

Book I of III: The Elysian Dynasty

### THE SWORDS OF THE SULTAN

### J. Eric Booker

Copyright, 2008.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

B. E. Books

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.

BOOK I OF III: The Elysian Dynasty:

The Swords of the Sultan

**Publisher's Notes** : 1) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or, are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 2) The numbered-translations to the two foreign languages used through the course of this story can be deciphered at the end of the book, where exist the English translations.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

Booker, J. Eric, The Swords of the Sultan

Special Sales

These books are available at special discounts for bulk purchases. Special editions, including personalized covers, excerpts of existing books, and corporate imprints, can be created in large quantities for special needs. Contact: BookerEnterprises@Hotmail.com

Edited by Em Petrova—ROMANCE AUTHOR

www.empetrova.com

Copyedited by Dr. Bruce R. Booker

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book to my mother. Thanks for all your assistance in bringing me up to be "an achiever in life," which I've really become, and thank you for your assistance in making this book a reality! Love ya, Ma.

SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I'd like to specially acknowledge my team of artists and graphic designers—all you guys did a tremendous job in making the swords and-or book-cover design: "BLING-BLING-BLING!!!"

Brenton P. Wilson

"Joliet James"

Philipp Leibelt

"That's what being young is all about.

You have the courage and the daring

to think that you can make a difference."

\- Ruby Dee

## CHAPTER I

Two hours after the sun rose on a cloudless morning, its light only then began to creep across the sand-covered alley between a pair of abandoned two-story sandstone buildings. This lower-middle-class area was located in the southeastern section of the Capital City of Pavelus.

It was a renowned fact all across the world that Sultan Brishavus Helenus ruled this Capitol with an iron fist, as well another fortified city several hundred miles away to the north, along with all of the land contained—the Sharia Empire.

The equally renowned reason it had taken this long, regarding this delay in light reaching some of the streets of Pavelus, happened to be a manmade one. Three-hundred-foot-tall by one-hundred-foot-thick by seven-mile-long walls of concrete-packed stone spanned around the southern, eastern, and northern borders— _she_ , this magnificent city, possessed the shape of a square. All quadrants had but one entrance, guarded twenty-four hours a day, every day by an elite company of soldiers. Archers and officers patrolled at the top of these walls.

What added to this formidable defense were the hundreds and hundreds of miles of surrounding desert terrains of all types, known as the Sharia Desert.

Although the western quadrant of this city bordered the Sea of Albusina, the largest sea on the planet, it too had been fortified. Guarding this quadrant was a manmade mountainous harbor containing five thousand waterproof-steel docks, as well the Sultan's five-star fleet oftentimes parked within—two thousand ancient-looking battleships of all sizes and shapes.

Perhaps a minute after the sunlight's arrival in this alley, the light began to poke through dozens of holes of various sizes upon an old wooden porch resting in front of a bolted-shut door attached to the building on the left. One such ray came to shine upon the brown face of a young homeless boy, who slept under a blanket of the same quality—dirty and thin.

Without any facial hair to note other than his thick eyebrows, the color of the unkempt hair on his head was black. This twelve-year-old—although most guessed him to be ten due to his small size—went by the name of Baltor.

Due to the annoying sunlight that penetrated through his shut eyelids, he turned over, yawned, and tried to fall back to sleep. Only a moment or two later, however, his stomach proceeded to grumble in angry tones, and it wouldn't stop.

Realizing that it was time to eat, he sat up, discovering in the process that all of his muscles and joints were quite stiff and sore from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Though the days were hot at this time of the year, the desert nights fell to near freezing.

Originally, and for most of his life, Baltor had lived a quaint lifestyle with his parents yet without any brothers or sisters. His father had been a blacksmith who loved to repair weapons of steel, but most of his customers wanted horseshoes replaced on their horses, so that is what he did to make ends meet.

His mother tended to their only child until he had turned eight, as was family tradition—it was then that his father began to apprentice him in the craft of blacksmithing for the next several years to come.

Not surprisingly, the son's brain (conscious and subconscious) was still traumatized and haunted by that horrific night a little less than two months ago, one week after his twelfth birthday. He and his family had long been asleep in their beds when a burglar had broken his or her way into their home in the middle of the night.

Baltor had only awoken out of deep sleep upon hearing his father yell angrily from downstairs, "I thought I heard some funny noises going on in my shop! Don't make me use my mace on you, but slowly lay down that sword and surrender! You...I know who—"

What interrupted his father's words was his "death scream," which in turn caused his mother to begin sobbing. Apparently, she had followed behind her husband, witnessing _the murder_!

Perhaps ten seconds later, she abruptly stopped crying to yell out, "Run, Ba—" As she hadn't finished yelling out the boy's name, Baltor knew with ever-growing sadness that she was dead, as was his father.

Frightened and grief-stricken, he managed to get his wits together, slip on his clothes and shoes, crawl out his second-story window, slide down the gutter and take off into the night—fortunately escaping mere seconds before the murderer had kicked Baltor's door open.

While running down the streets sobbing, scared, and confused—in fear that the killer might chase him down and kill him too—his tear-filled eyes barely discerned that both moons hovered on opposite sides of the sky, and both moons were full. The first was gray and filled with meteor markings of all shapes and sizes, while the other appeared to be twice as far away and half the size, bearing a red atmosphere. He knew they orbited in spiral-opposite directions, but only twice before in his conscious memories had he seen them both full—his mind blacked out.

The next morning, he woke up, discovering himself lying in this hole amongst holes—traumatized, homeless, destitute, and orphaned. Moments after waking up, he considered returning home, but as the idea popped into his head that the murderer might still be there waiting there to kill him, he changed his mind.

Instead, he found his way to the bazaar—ten minutes away from his new home. There, he stole a loaf of bread from an unsuspecting vendor, drank some water from a dirty animal trough, and headed back to his hole while eating the food. And for the last fifty-five days, he took bread, meat or fruit from vendors, but nothing else did he steal.

It was only three weeks ago that Baltor had first become aware of one of the most strictly enforced laws of Pavelus: stealing is against the law. Thieves minimally had a hand cut off, though the typical penalty was death. He witnessed a six-year-old orphaned girl's hand chopped off by one of the Sultan's guards—just for stealing an orange.

He had also been quite aware that she had belonged to the local street gang, ranging from the ages of four to nineteen. Not only did they steal food and other goods from vendors, they even carried weapons and mugged people to survive.

Thus, Baltor made sure to stay out of sight whenever this gang was nearby, including this day—his fifty-sixth as an orphan.

After tucking the blanket away into a little nook and making sure no one else was in the alley, he exited the hole before stretching his thin arms and legs out to get them nimble and loose. His stomach grumbled angrily yet again, as it demanded food.

Once more, he made his way to the bazaar.

Upon arriving at his destination, nearly ten minutes later, he observed with happiness that a few of the merchants hadn't finished setting out all their wares. He also noted that there were no gang members or guards patrolling about—yet. The one thing he wasn't happy about was that this place was already getting pretty packed full of shoppers.

Despite this setback, he had already begun to walk close by the tented stalls, all the while keeping his head locked straight ahead. His eyes, however, quickly scanned all around for the right moment when a vendor had his or her head turned away hoping for an opportunity to present itself—but most were looking right back at him suspiciously—as if they knew his intent. Located between almost every stall, he happened to see and hear an entertainer, or two, or three, ranging from jugglers of sharp weapons to singers, to musicians playing all types of musical instruments. A few of them blew exotic tunes from their horns in front of swaying king cobras.

Then "the moment" came, and as quick as a cobra strikes, Baltor's hand had surreptitiously tucked a loaf of bread into his shirt. As he casually walked away from the stall, he prayed that no one had witnessed his act—yet his heart continued to beat rapidly.

Luck, however, wasn't with the boy this time—and perhaps a half-minute after the theft, he first felt a child-sized hand clamp hard onto his shoulder from behind just before he heard a woman with a foreign accent declare, "Hey there, boy!"

He'd been caught in the act! He had to get out NOW!

Without looking, he slipped out of her grip, running down the street at top speed.

He reached the intersection only ten seconds later, made a right off the main strip, ran to the next intersection of this semi-busy street, turned left into a small alleyway filled with tons of clothes hanging on dozens of clotheslines, and then made another right onto the very next street without looking both ways.

Baltor almost became road kill, but fortunately and just in time, he jumped back from the first pair of galloping horses carrying soldiers. These men wore shiny armor, helmets, swords, and their black capes bore the gold emblem of crossed sabers—the symbol of the Sultan.

As the stampede continued to pass by, the boy tried his best to look calm and casual as he hurried on over to the sidewalk. However, due to the earlier running, his breath had turned ragged while sweat poured down his head, face, and body. Even worse, thanks to the dust that the horses had just kicked up, coupled with all the accumulated sweat, caused it all to cling to him like mud.

Finally, in what seemed to take forever, the last soldier had passed—sixty of them in total.

Baltor breathed a small sigh of relief while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand—and causing a mud-like substance to smear on both areas. He was too exhausted to care.

Instead, he scanned his horizons. After ensuring that the coast was still clear, he pulled out a chunk of the bread and began to munch on it—unfortunately, it tasted _very_ dry, too dry. He started to look around desperately for a trough to quench his ever-growing thirst.

After having swallowed the first bite, he heard—but did not yet see—the same woman ask, "Where are you running off to so fast?"

Frightened out of his wits, he jumped three feet into the air, landing on the ground in a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn, and he could now see for the first time the woman with the accent.

Her complexion was nearly white as a ghost, yet she had a beautiful face, sea-blue eyes, and golden-blond hair that cascaded all the way down to her waist. As for her stylish attire, she wore a pair of shiny blue, knee-high boots that had a strip of white fur sewn around the top, which met up with a snug pair of white breeches made of silk. Despite the black-and-blue-striped cape of silk that gracefully draped over her shoulders, clasped together by a jeweled broach, the silvery V-neck tunic she wore underneath revealed a small portion of her full cleavage.

Everything about this gal, perhaps only a foot taller and only a handful of years older than the boy, was wonderfully exotic and beautiful. Couple that with the fact that he was still startled by her most unexpected appearance for the second time, all he could do was to continue to stare in awe.

His first thoughts came to be, _Holey Moley! You are the prettiest thing I've ever seen..._

After an unknown amount of time had passed as the two unwaveringly stared each other in the eyes, she finally asked, "Well? Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"What question?"

"Where are you running off to so fast?"

"Ummm...you have me mistaken for someone else," he lied.

Unexpectedly, she laughed a few times before sighing, "Nope, no mistake."

"Listen, lady," he said. "You must have me mistaken for someone else, so unless there's something you want from me, I'm going to go."

With a wag of her index finger, once to the right and once to the left, the gal interrupted, "Uh, uh, uh. Open up your shirt and prove that you don't have a loaf of bread in there. If I'm mistaken, then I will apologize and go. Deal?"

His gaze darted around as he lied, "Trust me—I don't have—"

As if reading his very thoughts, she interrupted, "Don't even think about running again, boy. For if you do, not only will I catch you yet again, I'll turn you into the guards myself."

"Well, fine," he sighed in resignation. "I'll show you what I have in my shirt."

Slowly, he began to reveal the bread.

Halfway through, she gestured with a wave of her hand for him to tuck it back while saying softly, "There you go, boy. All you had to do was tell me the truth."

After considering her statement for only a second, Baltor easily explained the full truth, "I am an orphan. I am homeless. I do what I have to do to stay alive—there's your truth! So if you're not going to turn me in, what is it you want?"

The gal laughed yet again. Perhaps because of her laughter, for the very first time in the boy's life, not only did something strange, unexplainable and pleasant stir within the pits of his stomach, his heart began to race while his mind began to swoon.

As the wind suddenly threw her cape up into the air, a portion of her golden hair flew over her eyes. After pulling her hair back with her hand and holding it there, she cast a charming smile before introducing herself, "My name is Lady Lydia, and _YOU_ seem to have some remarkably quick talents, young man. Oh, and by the way, what _i_ _s_ your name?"

"I am Baltor," he tried to say but found his voice getting raspy from thirst, especially with the scorching sun beating down on him in the middle of the street.

Then, as if reading the boy's mind again, Lydia's eyes spotted a nondescript building made of sandstone just down the street, a building that possessed a wooden sign hanging above a door that read Myrkshia's Family Restaurant and Tavern. After pointing with her finger, she asked, "Would you like to get something to eat and drink, Baltor?"

The boy nodded his head a few times.

"Great," Lydia chimed just before she unexpectedly spun her body the opposite way in one swift movement. This action caused both her hair and cape to fly chaotically about for a few additional seconds.

Once both objects had resettled, she cocked just her head around, smiled, and said, "Follow me, Baltor."

Without waiting for an answer, she looked forward and began walking toward the restaurant. He followed.

After about a half-minute, the two entered the restaurant. While following behind her, he noticed that this cozy establishment was packed full of noisy patrons, with only one empty booth left that sat in the left-hand corner—the direction she headed. He also spotted a middle-aged man standing behind the bar, wearing a clean apron, washing glasses, and looking down.

That man looked up only a few seconds later, saw the boy, and yelled over the din of the patrons, "Hey there, you filthy rat! Get outa' here now!"

Everyone in the place instantly quieted, so they could turn their heads and look with shock and-or disgust at the "filthy rat."

Lydia halted, looked over at the man, and flipped back her cape with her right hand, revealing a plum-sized leather bag hanging from a string on the back of her belt.

As she began to shake the bag around with the same hand, jingling quite a bit of coin, she said in a matter-of-fact voice, "The boy's with me."

The man's eyes bulged at the sight of the bag of coins. Several seconds had passed before he sighed, "Fine, fine."

The chatter in the room instantly picked back up, a quarter of a minute before the two had taken seats on opposites sides of the booth.

Before either person had a chance to converse with the other, a plump, smiling and middle-aged waitress arrived, evident by the apron she wore. With a cheerful tone, she asked, "Top of the morning to the both of you—so, what'll you guys be having?"

Lydia cast a little smile and answered, "Just water and breakfast for the both of us...something that doesn't take long to whip up. Thank you!"

"No problem," the woman said. She left to place their order with the cooks, and retrieve their drinks.

Shortly after she was gone, Lydia slid forward in her seat, focusing her eyes on Baltor's. She then half-whispered, "I noticed that you have not only incredible skills, but you're also incredibly quick. Despite all that muddy dirt currently hiding you away, I can tell that you'll one day become quite an attractive young man."

Baltor did not know what to say, so he just shrugged embarrassedly.

She asked, "What do you think about the idea of getting some help by enhancing those skills?"

Instead of answering her question, he asked his own, "Why would you want to help me?"

They became quiet as the waitress returned with two empty mugs and a pitcher full of chilled water and small chunks of ice. After setting everything down on the table, she left to drop off the bill to an elderly couple who had just finished their meals, and then to take the order of three new customers—two ladies and a small boy—who had all taken seats at the far end of the restaurant.

Instead of answering Baltor's question, Lydia picked up the pitcher, filled both mugs, set the pitcher back down, picked up her drink, and took a small drink. Without hesitation, he took his cup and drank.

He became quite delighted that this icy water was quite clean, delicious, and refreshing—not like the warm and dirty water he drank ninety-nine percent of the time. That water was disgusting in his opinion.

After taking two more small sips, she answered in just above a whisper, "I want to help you for two reasons. First, I have a soft heart for those in need. Second, you have the rough skills that once developed and refined, could make you a master thief like me..." She allowed a crooked smile to cross her face.

Rather loudly, he blurted out, "You're a—" Catching himself before he could utter the final word to his question, a "word" that would certainly get them both into a heap of trouble, he mouthed out the word, "—thief?"

Lydia, who had already been observing the waitress' approach peripherally, remained silent until after she had deposited the two bowls of food and left. With a lingering smile on her face, she asked, "Surprised?"

"Wow—not in a million years would I ever have guessed that," the hungry boy whispered, picking up his spoon. Without looking down, he scooped a portion of the porridge and took a bite—quite tasty, as he discovered with happiness.

"Precisely," she replied. "That is what makes me a master."

He glanced down and continued to eat. The more he ate, the more he realized how hungry he was.

Lydia did not eat a bite, nor did she say a word. Instead, she gazed mostly about the restaurant and hardly at the boy. However, whenever their eyes made contact, she threw a sweet smile.

All the while gorging on the food, his mind remained in awe—he couldn't believe that this gorgeous woman was a master thief, and looking out for him! The more he thought about his future, or the lack thereof, the more he wanted to agree to her proposal.

At the end of breakfast, which included eating the second bowl of porridge that she had offered, he agreed, "Okay. I'll do it."

After nodding once, Lydia stated, "Perfect. Then we'll begin your specialized training in one hour—after of course, we get to our next destination, which, by the way, is _t_ _o_ _p_ _s_ _e_ _c_ _r_ _e_ _t_ to your ears at this time. So please don't ask me where we're going. In fact, just keep your mouth shut the entire time unless I ask you a question. Your food should have had enough time to digest by the time we arrive. Furthermore, I think you should just leave that bread here on the table—where we're going, there's plenty of food."

Upon noticing that the waitress was about to pass by, she looked on over and asked, "Waitress....check please?"

## CHAPTER II

After paying the bill with a decent tip and exiting the restaurant, Lydia led Baltor through three different sections of the city. Forty-foot-tall walls separated each part, in which she displayed her ID to the guards posted at the checkpoints.

The boy found it quite strange that the guards treated her with such a high amount of respect, especially after the way he'd seen the guards treat others, especially himself. However, at every gate, they would all bow low and call out, "You may pass, my lady."

He did not find it strange that they were always looking at him suspiciously and disdainfully. That is until Lady Lydia explained that she had just bought him at the slave market and that he would be getting his ID that very afternoon—slavery was both legal and lucrative in Pavelus.

They let him pass without hindrance.

Approximately an hour later, now traveling through an upper-class neighborhood, the pair made a right at a four-way cobblestone intersection and walked down yet another road that had concrete sidewalks on both sides. Most of the people around here traveled around in horse-drawn carriages, everybody and everything looking unique yet very, very expensive. Inevitably, Lydia and Baltor made their way onto the sidewalk on the left side of the street.

Butting up against the sidewalk was a thirty-foot-tall wall made of polished granite, spanning as far as Baltor's eyes could see—and carved into it by artistic masters were the detailed images of heroes battling dragons and other beastly monsters. A massive black palace existed far in the distance beyond this wall.

On the other side of the road, there stood a black-gated fence, revealing a very lush and colorful garden inside. This property ended about a thousand feet down at a three-way intersection.

After walking nearly a half of a mile down this same road, and passing three more three-way intersections on the right, he discovered a pair of iron-plated gates separating the wall on the left. This wall continued for at least another half-mile.

On each side of this closed gate stood a pair of armed guards, each equipped with a sword notched on his belt. Their yellow uniforms were different from any of the uniforms that the Sultan's forces wore.

Upon Lydia's approach, the guards opened the gates in unison and without as much as a word spoken.

Baltor became astonished as they passed through the gates and into a luscious tropical paradise. His mouth dropped all the way open, as he had never before seen a place like this.

After all, this huger-than-huge oasis possessed a cobblestone path—just wide enough for a carriage—that gently wound itself around all of the clustered groups of exotic flowers and palm trees. This route led up to a wooden bridge that arched over a small stream.

The stream of water wound around back and forth, until depositing itself into a small lagoon nearby, also contained within the confines of this magnificent property. Small groups of people walked here and there, mindful only of their serene surroundings.

A smile finally crossed the boy's face as soon as he stood on top of the bridge, looked over the edge, and discovered the schools of colorful fish playfully swimming below. Perhaps a quarter-minute passed before he heard Lydia say kindly, "Come on, Baltor. We don't have all day." He did.

Along the way, he couldn't help but notice that at the far end of the path, just beyond the empty parking lot, there stood that five-story palace made mostly of black marble. Four large cylindrical pillars—white marble—held up the front balcony. Located on both sides of the building was a patio.

Master crafters had constructed both patios by placing four white pillars upon the white-and-black-checkered tile floors at each corner, in which there were no walls. Each post held up a corner of a white marble ceiling. Perhaps an eighth of this roof had been chiseled out artistically, allowing that same portion of sunlight to shed in hundreds of swirly patterns throughout the shaded area.

In the center of both patios sat a large square pool that had thousands of reeds jutting out of the waters. Hanging from the ceiling above each pool was a golden cage filled up with exotic and colorful birds chirping noisily away. He bet silently to himself that there were colorful fish in those pools.

All the while, she strolled down the path and toward the palace's main entrance—fifteen-foot-tall mahogany doors with doorknobs made of polished gold, as well an armed guard that stood on each side.

Moments before Lydia and Baltor's arrival at this entrance, each guard opened his door.

Upon entering, the boy's mouth dropped open upon discovering what lay inside—a huge white marble foyer that possessed an octagonal shape. Four sets of mahogany doors sat at each of the quadrants, as well two posted guards at each exit. A ceiling-to-floor tapestry hung on the walls in between each exit, each revealing a different beautiful scene of nature.

In the center of the room, eight black leather couches sat loosely together, also forming the shape of an octagon. The boy counted out twelve richly dressed adults of varying ages who sat or stood around this area—seven males and five females. All were engaged in social chitter-chatter.

As Lydia and Baltor passed by the group, most bowed their heads in recognition and greeting toward Lydia. A few of them, however, stared at the boy with either a snobby or a disgusted expression.

As the duo neared the exit on the left side of the room, the pair of guards stationed there opened his door and without saying a word.

Lydia and Baltor entered the long hallway—made of gray marble except for the black-and-gold carpeting, and with six doors to the left and six to the right. Hanging in between each door was either a beautiful scenic painting or a mirror—at the far end of the corridor, which traversed for approximately a thousand feet or so, there stood a set of double doors with two more posted guards.

Halfway down this hall, she cocked her head to look back at Baltor, noting the bewildered expression on his face. With a wink, she hinted, "Trust me...there are many more surprises waiting to be discovered."

Only seconds before their arrival at this set of double doors, the two guards opened them—and as soon as Lydia and Baltor passed through, the guards dutifully closed them.

She stopped, turned around, and gestured with her hands and arms for the boy to take a good look around this aesthetically pleasing chamber, filled with artworks of all types just about everywhere.

The first thing to capture his attention was the fifty-foot-tall brass statue of a beautiful woman in the room's center.

Upon closer examination of this piece of art, he perceived that she wore a toga while standing upright on a blue marble pedestal that rose three feet over the top of a blue marble pool. The inside of this pool was filled-to-the-rim with water, and tons of sparkling jewels embedded on the outside.

An even closer examination revealed that this statue's right hand held a marble seashell that continuously, and mysteriously, poured water into that pool. His estimation was that this art piece's value had to be "priceless..."

Perhaps a minute later, he began to gaze at all the other beautiful, yet much smaller statues or sculptures—made of all types of valuable metals or woods and bearing a wide variety of poses. Some rested upon black or white marble pedestals—some rested on precious wood or metal stands.

He then proceeded to look at the hundreds of beautiful scenic paintings of all shapes and sizes hanging on the black marble walls. However, he also noticed that there were no guards or exits out of this room anywhere, nor were there any other living occupants, apart from himself and Lydia.

Thanks to his astonishment, he had completely lost track of time, and so he double-checked to make sure no one else was around. There wasn't, and so he whispered, "With all of this wealth you already possess, why do you need to be a thief?"

Lydia smiled before answering, "Everything will be explained to you when the time is right, and you are ready to understand." She had not whispered but spoken at a normal volume.

Without saying anything else, she walked up to the front of the fountain and reached out her hand. Grabbing hold of an emerald that jutted out, she twisted it.

A black marble tile on the floor slowly tilted upward, revealing a stone stairway that led down into the darkness.

After she had begun to climb down the steps, she half-sang, "Follow me...if you want to learn more."

Without a moment's hesitation, he followed her down the dark stairway until reaching the bottom. Upon turning around, he observed that there was only one burning torch nearby, which hung in a post mounted to the wall, that he stood at the beginning of an underground tunnel that descended in altitude, and that Lydia was walking down the tunnel.

Before descending into that abyss, he glanced back up to the top of the fifty-foot stairway, from whence they had just come. The light from the entrance slowly disappeared as the marble tile above shut tight. Now this torch was the sole source of light, providing barely enough for them to see ahead of them.

She cleared her throat a couple of times and waved for the boy to follow before strolling down a zigzagging tunnel, where more flaming torches sat in posts at every zag in this quarter-mile-long passage. From somewhere up ahead, they could hear a multitude of echoing noises, ranging from the sounds of clanging of metals and other objects to the sounds of people yelling.

This tunnel inevitably opened up into an immense cavern that contained tens of thousands of both stalagmites and stalactites spread all about in chaotically sized and shaped clusters, as well nearly a dozen other tunnels that Baltor could see, thanks to all the lit torches posted on all three levels.

Also, spread all about this rather noisy cavern were dozens of people engaged in hardcore-training—most appeared to be teenagers or older. Some raced through obstacle courses while the remainder sparred ferociously with other opponents; some using weapons of wood or steel.

Lydia stood quietly by and allowed the boy his time to explore his new surroundings.

Finally, Baltor whispered to Lydia, "I am ready to know: Would you now please answer my question?"

"We are all thieves," she revealed, "but not the conventional type... All around this world are priceless treasures and artifacts, waiting for the properly trained thief to discover and steal. Most are not only heavily guarded, but also booby-trapped!"

She inhaled a deep breath of air through her nose before saying, "We never steal from the poor, and quite often we give them a portion of our wealth. Still, good and honest thieves are hard to come by, especially these days. Therefore, we have certain secret oaths that a candidate must swear to before that person can join our unique thieves' guild—what we simply call, quote-unquote 'The Guild.'"

Once she had given the boy a bit of time to digest this information, she continued, "Before I go any further, I must inform you that if the Sultan ever discovered this place, he would not only plunder all our treasures, but he would painfully execute all of us!"

"So why are you showing all of this to me?" he asked. Without waiting for the answer, he asked another question, "And how do you know that I will not spill my guts out to the Sultan once I leave here?"

She laughed for a few moments, but did not answer either question—his facial expression instantly turned suspicious.

Once she had stopped laughing, she answered without an ounce of humor, "Well, Baltor, I'm showing all of this to you because I'm about to give you the opportunity you never had. However, should you try to leave now you'll have your guts spilled onto the ground before you even make it back to the ladder, as this place must remain _t_ _o_ _p_ _s_ _e_ _c_ _r_ _e_ _t_." She whispered those last two words.

The boy gulped.

She laughed a single time before adding, "Relax—if I didn't think I could trust you, I wouldn't have brought you here."

"I see," he answered warily. "I won't tell anyone."

"Perfect," she said with a cheery smile. "I hoped that you would say that. That means you won't die today and we won't lose such a promising candidate. Now, I have a couple questions for you, Baltor. First question—would you like to become powerful, get rich, and become a master thief? Second—are you ready to begin your training?"

Without hesitation, the boy answered eagerly, "Yes, to both questions! Are you going to train me?"

She shook her head a few times before answering, "No, not me...not at this time...perhaps later. Now I _do_ train candidates, but _only_ when I want to. And _only_ those thieves who prove worthy to become an Officer of the Guild, which on the average takes about fifteen years for the average person to get to this stage. There are a dozen higher grades before that officer can become a ruling member of the High Council, of which I am a Councilwoman. All of this is, of course, possible. Look at me! Nowadays, the thing I do most is to recruit raw talent to build up our numbers."

He asked, "What does 'recruit' mean?"

She answered, "Recruit means to 'find new talents like you.'"

"Oh," he said with a nod. Once again very curious about all that there was to see in this cavern, he began to look around.

She also had started scanning around the vast cavern, but for an entirely different reason. Happily spotting the man she was looking for about a half-minute later, she yelled, "Drill Instructor Humonus!" Her yelling had caused the boy to jump a half-foot into the air.

Having somehow heard his name even though he stood two hundred feet away from Lydia, Humonus turned around and began to approach her and the boy at a quick and steady gait—he had been initially watching two women fight each other with quarterstaffs.

The boy couldn't help but notice even from this distance that this man possessed strong lean muscles, that he had mocha-colored skin, and that he was tall.

As the man drew closer at a rapid pace, Baltor noted more and more details about his attire and physical appearance. He wore a short-sleeved green tunic, black breeches, and boots; his rugged-good looks consisted of shoulder-length brown hair that was slightly wavy, a five o'clock shadow and brown eyes. Once ten feet away, the boy only then observed a thin scar that ran up and down the left cheek on his face.

After arriving and bowing just to Lydia, Humonus asked, "Yes, my lady, how may I be of service?"

"Good Sir, are you currently training any students?"

Humonus answered, "To answer your question, no, I have no students at this time. My last student Shami passed his final exam yesterday, though not without a scratch. Were you not able to attend, Lady Lydia?"

"No, I just arrived back in Pavelus this morning from a month's long vacation on Aeitus Island, which was spectacular by the way! What do you mean not without a scratch?"

After sucking a deep breath through just his mouth, Humonus explained, "Well...on the seventh and final obstacle course, Shami paused a nanosecond too long and one of our archers smacked an arrow into his right buttock! _Ouch!!_ "

The two of them chuckled at that, drawing the boy's attention back to them.

Once Humonus' laughter had dissipated, he sounded serious as he said, "But seriously. I am so very proud of Shami, especially the way that he maneuvered through that final obstacle, to the finish line...and won!"

Humonus could not help but chuckle again just before he added, "Still, it'll probably be a month or two before he can sit down again...and his new teachers allow him to 'sit in' on their classes! Get the pun?" No longer able to contain himself, he busted out laughing while slapping his left knee.

Lydia began laughing along. Even though Baltor had been listening, he was not amused, nor did he join in the laughter.

A half-dozen seconds passed before she saw Baltor's serious look, stopped laughing, and said, "Well, I'll be sure to congratulate Shami later on today. Now, I have a couple of related questions for you. Are you ready to take on another student?" With a point of her index finger, she introduced, "This is Baltor."

Humonus looked over at the boy for the very first time, and after a few seconds of baleful study, he replied with a sneer, "This boy doesn't look like a thief. In fact, he looks like a coward that would turn yellow and run at the first sign of danger!"

Baltor—all-too-aware that _h_ _e_ was the boy Humonus was talking about—defended aloud, "That's not true! You have no idea who I am or what I'm capab—"

"Silence, maggot," Humonus screamed. "You will NOT address me as 'You!' What do you think I am—a female sheep? Keep your 'pie hole' shut until you are spoken to, scumbag!"

After taking a deep breath, he no longer screamed as he said, "As to your capabilities, which remains to be seen, or better yet—not seen. Follow me, maggot." Without waiting for a reply, he spun around and proceeded toward one of the tunnels located at the far-left side of the cavern.

Obediently, the boy followed a few feet behind Humonus as they entered into a straight and narrow tunnel—every seventy feet, there was a blazing torch fastened to the wall.

Twice, as Humonus came across forking tunnels, he took the left tunnel. Halfway through this third tunnel on the left side, there was a lit alcove—they entered.

A beautiful wooden desk sat on the dirt floor inside, and resting upon that, two small oil lamps burned. Behind this desk was a matching wood chair with a plush black pillow on the seat.

Humonus walked around the desk, took a seat, pulled open a drawer, took out a sheet of paper, closed the drawer, set the paper on the desk, looked the boy directly in the eyes, and asked, "Do you know how to read and write?"

Baltor answered, "No."

"No, what, maggot?" demanded Humonus.

"What?" the boy asked.

"You will either begin or end every sentence or question to me with the word, 'Sir.' Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Baltor responded.

"Excellent," Humonus responded. "As for you not being to read or write, you'll learn soon enough. So in the meantime, I'm about to read this contract for you. When I tell you to repeat something after me, you will be swearing to it. When I've gotten through the entire contract, you can just put an X at the bottom, signifying your name. Any questions for me, boy?"

"No, Sir!"

"Good, now raise your right hand and repeat after me," Humonus ordered. He picked up the contract and read aloud, "'I, state your name.'"

After raising his right hand, the boy swore, "I, Baltor..."

"'Do solemnly swear.'"

"Do solemnly swear," Baltor repeated.

"'Never to reveal the secret location of this thieves' guild that shall henceforth be known as the Guild.'"

"Never to reveal the secret location of this thieves' guild that shall henceforth be known as the Guild."

"'Nor to reveal the secrets of the Guild that are about to be taught to me.'"

"Nor to reveal the secrets of the Guild that are about to be taught to me."

"'Nor will I reveal any of the members of the Guild under any circumstances—ever!'"

"Nor will I reveal any of the members of the Guild under any circumstances—ever!"

"'And if I even begin to think of betraying this solemn oath, I swear that I will first acquire a dagger, cut my own eyes out, then my tongue, then each of my fingers and thumbs, and finally, plunge that dagger into my heart with my feet.'" Humonus finished reading.

Perhaps a quarter of the way through that last part of the oath, the boy forgot the rest, so his eyes began to squint, which was his "thinking look." Humonus, on the ball, assisted where the boy had left off.

Upon completion of the oath, Humonus turned the piece of paper around, handed a feather pen to the boy, and said, "Now, please sign on the dotted line."

Baltor signed with an _X_.

"Good—I am now officially your drill instructor, and _you_ are my student," Humonus stated. He gave a warm smile while extending out his hand for the boy to shake.

After returning the smile, Baltor shook that extended hand and for about a quarter of a minute. When he tried to pull his hand back, he discovered with surprise that his drill instructor held onto it in a vice-like grip, which grip was becoming tighter and painful!

Baltor yelped, " _Oww_! Please stop, sir!"

Although the drill instructor stopped squeezing the boy's hand any harder, neither did he relax his grip or say a single word. Instead, he glared evilly at the boy for yet another quarter-minute. He sounded just as evil when he promised, "One more thing—if you _d_ _o_ happen to violate your signed oath, it would be better for you to do all that you have sworn to, than for _u_ _s_ to take the matter into our own hands. I swear to you that the pain you will feel from being tortured over and over again before your death will be... _unbearable_!" After releasing the hand, he stood up out of his seat.

The boy gulped down his fears while rubbing his achy hand with his other hand.

Sounding nice, Humonus said, "Now you begin basic training...please follow me." He left the alcove and walked down the tunnel—the boy followed.

## CHAPTER III

Moments after this trip had begun, the drill instructor began to teach, "Let's start with a bit of history. Our Guild has been in existence for nearly five centuries—not too long after this city had been conquered by the empire. Yeah, it's also true that we have had members caught, tortured, tried, hanged, or worse—but no one has ever revealed the location of our headquarters or our members. After all, why should they want to? They know that we have always taken great care of them, and it was solely by their stupidity or clumsiness that they got caught. But now: onto more pressing matters."

The second that he had finished speaking, they arrived back at the training cavern. After having traveled several dozen feet inside this cavern, Humonus stopped, turned around, pointed his left index finger up into the air, and said, "One of the first things that we shall do for you is to build up your strength, dexterity and endurance through intense physical exercises and challenges. Later, once you pass the basic tests, you will then learn how to use a broad selection of weapons, and of course, be tested. Once you pass all of these physical tests, you will learn how to read and write, even foreign languages, and you will also learn etiquette, manners, and customs."

After giving the boy a chance to digest that information, the drill instructor concluded, "In time, should you pass all of the tests, you will know how to bust into any lock or door, how to talk or fight your way out of any situation. Ultimately, you will know how to blend in anywhere, as a master thief! Do you understand?"

Baltor answered with glee, "Heck yeah!"

The drill instructor yelled, "What, worm? Have you _ALREADY_ forgotten? You will either begin or end every sentence or question to me with the word, 'Sir.' Do you understand me, you scum?"

No longer sounding excited at all, especially because of the insult, the boy replied, "Yes, sir."

The expression on Humonus' face contorted even more as he screamed out, "I can't hear you—maggot!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Although still bearing an angry expression on his face with his arms defensively crossed, Humonus sounded calm as he replied, "Good...now, drop and give me twenty."

The boy looked confused just before he asked, "Twenty what, sir?"

The drill instructor growled, "Twenty push-ups, you idiot."

"Sir, what are push-ups?"

Sighing deeply, Humonus dropped to the floor, demonstrating how to do a proper pushup. After performing ten, he stood up and barked, "Now drop and give me twenty push-ups!"

The boy dropped to the ground into the pushup position. He pushed out one, two, three, three-and-a-half push-ups—his arms and chest buckled, collapsing onto the ground.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Is that all you got—three miserable-looking push-ups?" the drill instructor screamed just before kneeling down on one knee next to the boy's head. He then barked, "You'd better give me more than just three, maggot!"

With all of his might, the boy tried again but failed to get even one more pushup. After looking up, he whined, "Sir—I can't!"

"I _somehow knew_ that you were going to be a lot of work when I laid _my eyes on you_ ," Humonus sneered with derision. "Give me twenty sit-ups!"

"Sir what is a sit-up?"

The drill instructor howled as if he had lost his sanity, but instead of saying another word or making another sound, he laid down upon the ground. Lacing his hands and fingers behind his head, he crossed his legs and lifted them high into the air, bending his knees to a forty-five-degree angle. Repeatedly, he pulled his hands and head into his knees.

After performing ten sit-ups, he stood back up onto his feet and said, "Make sure that you pull with your stomach muscles, not your hands—now, give me twenty sit-ups."

The boy flipped over onto his back, lifted up his legs and knees, put his hands behind his head, and squeezed his abdominal muscles by pulling his elbows to his knees. One, two, three, four... five...

The five-and-a-half sit-ups were all he could do, and already his stomach muscles burned horribly. He looked up and over, noticing that his drill instructor was shaking his head in disgust.

Instead of yelling, Humonus clipped, "Give me more push-ups."

Many long hours seemed to pass, though it was impossible to tell exactly how many, especially being underground with no sunlight as a reference, before the utterly exhausted boy was finally told he could take a ten-minute break.

The drill instructor had already disappeared into one of the pitch-black tunnels.

Baltor sat down on the hard ground, trying to relax. Exhaustion and fatigue hit him all that much harder, and he began to crave sleep.

Only a few minutes seemed to pass before the drill instructor was already back, screaming at Baltor to do more push-ups, sit-ups and running.

After that, he proceeded to teach the boy how to do more types of exercises like jumping jacks, pull-ups and mountain climbers. Many more hours passed as the boy performed these exercises to the best of his ability, which wasn't good at all—he thought he was going to die. He also thought his drill instructor was very mean and cruel, though he kept all his opinions to himself.

Finally, the time came when Humonus said, "Go ahead and sit down...relax for one minute. Then I'll lead you to your bedchambers—what we call around here the barracks—so you can rest."

Through his exhaustion, the boy dropped to the sitting position before saying, "Yes...sir." Sweat not only covered his body and clothes, yet so did dirt and mud.

Once that minute had passed, the drill instructor said, "Let's go." He led the way toward and into a pitch-black tunnel located at the far right side of the cavern.

The boy was able to follow in the darkness only by listening as Humonus taught, "A thief must rely on his other senses besides sight. That's why we purposefully leave most of our tunnels without light so that our students can learn how to maneuver around in the darkness. Soon enough, you will learn and master this skill. Of course, you will later be tested in this skill."

The second the man had finished speaking, the boy observed a lit cavern up ahead on the right-hand side. Only moments seemed to pass before they entered the cavern that turned out to be the barracks.

Spaced evenly inside this decent-sized barracks were two-dozen bunk beds, in which sleeping people occupied every bunk but one. Against the wall on the left stood a huge metal table filled with fruit, vegetables, small loaves of wheat bread, wood pitchers filled with water, and empty, wooden mugs. Located at the far-right corner of the room was the only other exit; a tunnel lit up by a torch that hung on the wall twenty feet after this exit began, in which it veered sharply to the right.

Of course, the boy stopped walking right next to where his drill instructor now stood, which was a few feet inside the entrance.

Looking over, Humonus pointed to the empty bunk before half-whispering, "This is where you'll be sleeping. Better take advantage of it while you can."

"Yes, sir."

After pointing at the exit, the drill instructor added, "The latrine is at the far end of that tunnel. Make sure you clean up any and all messes when done by using the soap, water, and towels provided there. We don't need any diseases around here."

"What's a latrine, sir?"

"Rest room...so you can relieve yourself."

"Oh."

Without another word, the drill instructor turned around and exited the room.

Though Baltor was famished, he was too tired to care, and so he headed for the latrine as he needed to pee. After the winding tunnel had ended, about a dozen turns and a hundred feet away, he noticed there was a small cavern just big enough for a dozen small holes that were drilled into the ground on one side, and a large wooden table on the other. On the table sat six large buckets of water, bars of soap, and clean towels—next to the table sat a large hamper bag. After relieving himself, washing his hands, and depositing the dirty towel into the hamper, he headed for bed. He plopped into bed before falling right asleep.

It seemed to the boy's mind that only minutes had passed, yet his ears heard someone yelling out his name, which caused him to wake up and be scared out of his gourd! Popping open his eyes, he turned his head and looked fearfully over to see who was doing the yelling: Drill Instructor Humonus.

"I said get the hell up, for the dozenth time," the drill instructor shrieked even louder, looking quite ticked off. "From now on, when I tell you to do something, do it the first time! Do you understand maggot?"

Hurriedly sliding out of bed, the boy cried, "Yes, sir!"

"You have five minutes to eat, boy, and three of those are up," the drill instructor continued to yell.

While running over to the table, the boy couldn't help but release a deep yawn. Once there, he plucked off a loaf of bread and stuffed a piece of it into his mouth. Chewing on the food, he quickly poured a glass of water from the pitcher.

From his peripheral vision, he noticed that his instructor was standing behind him and waiting—and that all the other students were gone. He took a swallow of water, stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth, chewed on that for a few seconds, and then took another swallow of water.

It did not even feel as if he had even two minutes to eat, for upon consuming his sixth chunk of bread and the fifth gulp of water, the drill instructor barked out, "Time's up—let's go! Lead the way back to the training area!"

"Yes, sir," the Baltor yelled out before running into the pitch-black tunnel.

Making his way back to the training area turned to be an unbelievably frustrating task indeed; for many times over, he crashed into a tunnel wall, crashed into his drill instructor, or just became lost.

For the most part, Humonus remained silent during this rather long trip, except for the times that his student screwed up. When that was the case, he was on the boy like flies on feces—screaming away in the dark, reverberating tunnels that echoed chaotically—which was a very, very disorientating thing for poor Baltor.

It seemed as though an eternity had passed before the student finally saw the light from a torch ahead. Unfortunately, as he came to discover, the light came from the barracks.

Eventually, in what seemed like hours later, they arrived at the training area. Humonus pointed before yelling, "You see that trail marker on the ground over there, boy?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Follow it and run through that obstacle course as fast as you possibly can! Move it—move it—move it!"

Observing the line chiseled in the ground that began with an arrow pointing in the direction he needed to run, the boy ran for it at top speed.

His first obstacle, about two hundred feet away from the beginning, was a knotted rope reaching all the way up to the ceiling. Not surprising to him, his muscles were so fatigued from the day before that he could only climb halfway up the rope, about twenty-five feet, and that was it—despite the screams and curses hurled at him from his drill instructor.

Eventually, Humonus yelled up, "Get the hell down and move on—you sluggish puke!"

As the boy climbed back down, luck was with him that he did not fall because of his fatigued and sore muscles. Once on the ground, he ran down the chiseled line and up to the next obstacle—a rope that gradually angled its way up to a platform some forty feet high.

"How do I—" the boy tried to ask, only to be interrupted.

"Turn yourself around, slide your legs over the rope, and pull yourself with your arms and legs up to the top—do it, _NOW_!"

Doing as instructed, it took the boy about ten minutes before he finally reached the top. He was completely out of breath, his heart raced frantically, and sweat poured from head to toe.

The drill instructor shouted from the ground, "Get Down! Get Down! Get Down! Move on to the next obstacle—you're not done yet, boy!"

Baltor ran as fast as he could to the next obstacle, which was only about fifty feet away. This obstacle consisted of a circular pit spanning about ten feet in diameter, in which a rope hung from the ceiling over the pit. With all his strength, he leaped and successfully grabbed the rope, in which his momentum allowed him to swing to the far end. Once on the other side, he dropped to the ground. Looking back around and down in shock, he confirmed that this pit was bottomless.

"What are you waiting for, scum? Homlick Day?" Humonus snarled.

Without saying a word, Baltor began to run down the chiseled line and toward the next obstacle that was not currently in his sight, yet. After rounding a corner, he saw about fifty feet ahead that six bags of varying sizes hung from metal railings, which bags automatically swung back and forth, but at different rotating speeds.

Halfway there, he noticed that the bags connected to a bunch of interconnected mechanical gears, which somehow maintained a continuous motion.

He passed the first two bags without a hitch, but the third bag smacked into him incredibly hard—the impact caused him to crash into the ground, painfully, and now he only saw shooting stars everywhere he looked!

The drill instructor was all over the boy only a split-second later, as he ranted and raved and spat, "How in the hell are you supposed to be a thief if you can't even make it through this easy-as-pie obstacle course, of which there are many more obstacle courses that get successively harder? Well, you maggot? I'm about to give up on you! Geez..."

While stars continued to appear in the boy's field of vision, he answered, "Well, sir...I'm—I'm trying...the best that I can." All the while, he wiped the gobs of spit that had landed on his face with his forearm.

"You need a hell of a lot more work," Humonus retorted. After sucking in a deep breath and just-as-slowly releasing it out, he pointed with his index finger and ordered, "Get some water from the lunch table over there...eat some fruit too. You'll get a short break before we begin the next training exercise."

The drill instructor spun around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees before walking toward one of the exits. Perhaps ten seconds later, he halted. Without looking back, he said coldly, "Oh, by the way, if you want to quit because you can't handle my training anymore—you might as well jump into that pit you just swung across, because you're not getting out of this place alive until you pass everything." Only a half-minute had passed before he was gone.

The boy said not a word throughout—instead he stumbled over to the table, picked up the pitcher and drank. His weak body ached beyond comprehension, and his mind was far too exhausted to comprehend anything—except for the fact that his training day had only just started.

_Is it even close to lunchtime yet?_ he silently mused to himself while taking another drink and looking around.

Seeing that everyone else was training and no one was within earshot, Baltor mumbled aloud, "What in the hell have I gotten myself into? At least before, I was free. Definitely not wealthy, certainly homeless, but still, at least I was free! Maybe I should just jump into the pit and end my agony."

Just then, another voice said inside the boy's head, sounding suspiciously like his mother, _No,_ _Baltor...do not give up! Look at everything you've survived so far. And now—now you've been given the chance to succeed, my baby boy! You can do it...I love you._

Those new and encouraging thoughts seemed to stimulate Baltor, and at least for the moment, he no longer felt any pain or exasperation whatsoever. In fact, something changed inside him! He now felt an inner strength he had never felt before, and he knew that he would make it through his training—no matter what! In fact, he determined right then and there to become the best student this Guild had ever produced!

Reality abruptly pulled him from his thoughts as an all-too-familiar voice screamed out, "Your break's up, maggot. You were too slow and too weak during your last exercise. Do it again!"

With a zeal that the boy had never known before, he roared out, "Yes, sir!"

He ran alongside the chiseled line, leaped high for the rope ladder and caught it eight feet in the air. After climbing all the way to the top, he then made his way all the way back down.

Refusing any negative thoughts that might break his focus, he pushed through the next two obstacles, meeting them both with success. Finally, he knew that his next obstacle was the swinging bags.

Once within eyesight, he noted the time it took for the first bag to cross from one side to the other—approximately six seconds. By the time he neared the obstacle, he had also learned that the second bag was a bit smaller yet only took three seconds each way.

Mentally timing himself, the boy stopped just before the first bag. He waited for it to pass and then entered its path. Then the second bag crossed and he rushed six steps forward, in between the second and the third bag.

The third bag was even bigger than the first but only took four seconds to cross—it was on its way back. As he waited for it to pass, he observed that the fourth bag was a lot smaller and faster than all of the other bags, taking only a second for each direction. He could not make out how big or how fast the fifth bag was going.

Once the third bag had crossed yet again, the boy leaped toward the ground, tucked into a tight somersault, and rolled right underneath it and the fourth bag—his right shoulder began to ache.

Without pause, he stood straight up, so that the fifth bag would not clobber him. This bag was the biggest and the slowest out of them all, with an estimated time of nine seconds to swing each direction.

Simultaneously, he observed that the sixth bag possessed the same size and speed as the fourth bag, but with one noticeable difference. The frame around this last bag angled much lower to the ground, so rolling underneath it would be impossible.

Once the fifth bag had passed, the boy leaped, but this time straight up. He successfully grabbed the frame above him before pulling the rest of his body up and over until he stood on top of the railing. After running to the end, he noticed that the chiseled path continued onward. Because he didn't want to hurt himself, he turned around and climbed down to the ground.

"Well?" Humonus shrieked right away, "Keep going!"

Baltor pushed onward with all he had. He soon discovered that the chiseled line led him up to a sheer cliff face. As he drew closer and closer, he observed there was no ladder or stairway to climb, and that there were very few decent hand-or-feet holds in the wall. Looking up about forty feet, he deciphered that there was a mouth of a tunnel way up there.

_How do I get up there?_ he thought to himself. Then he saw the answer to his question: about four feet from the ground was a rock that slightly jutted out from the cliff face. He grabbed that rock with his left hand before leaning his body into the wall.

He next saw a tiny, almost imperceptible crack in the wall about two feet above that. After jabbing the fingers of his right hand into that crack, he tried to pull his body up. Again, he succeeded with his attempt.

The boy lifted up his left leg, placing it on the next rock before pivoting his entire body again so that the whole of his body weight rested on his left side. He then looked for the next handhold.

There was another crack, but it was a good three feet up and about four feet to the right of where he was. With all of the elasticity he could muster, he reached for it.

This time, unfortunately, he missed the crack and fell to the ground, smashing his knee into the pebbled earth, which sent shooting pains up his knee and throughout the rest of his body!

He lost his feeling of invincibility and resigned himself to defeat at the wall.

Despite the pounding pain in his kneecap, he heard his drill instructor once again screaming right in his ear, "Come on, you weakling—get the hell up there!"

With tears now steadily flowing down his cheeks, and with great pain and frustration, the boy turned just his head to face his drill instructor. "I can't...what you ask is impossible!"

Humonus began laughing like a crazed maniac.

"Damn you to hell!" The boy screamed as he tried to wipe the muddy tears away.

With a lightning speed that defied the laws of physics, the drill instructor pinched his dagger into the boy's neck, slightly drawing blood. He hissed, "The next time you curse me like that, boy, I will kill you..."

Frightened out of his wits, Baltor could not say or do anything.

Seconds later, the drill instructor put his knife away behind his back before saying nonchalantly, "Let me show you how to make the impossible—possible."

With that, Humonus took a few steps back, leaped over the boy, and climbed the wall with ease, almost as if he were walking on level ground. It took him less than ten seconds to accomplish this astounding feat, all while the student watched in total amazement.

Up above, the drill instructor screamed, "Now climb on up here, boy."

Following suit, the boy scaled the wall successfully this time—though it took him about four minutes.

"Keep going," Humonus ordered, as soon as his student stood next to him in the tunnel. "You're still not done!"

"Yes, sir," Baltor yelled before running at top speed. He straightaway discovered that this winding tunnel twisted not only right and left, yet up and down.

Forty seconds later, he made it to the end just before scanning his horizons. He saw the rope with the knots in it that he had first climbed, but it was more than twenty feet away.

From behind him, he heard his drill instructor order, "Back off a bit, run, and then jump for it!"

Baltor sucked in a deep breath to regain control over his fears—the fear of heights and the fear of possibly plummeting to his death. Even though it did not work, he still backed off as ordered, ran forward at top speed, and then jumped at the last second.

Whether luck or skill, the boy did not know or care, but he grew quite relieved upon realizing that he flew straight toward the rope...and he grew even _more_ relieved when his hands gripped the rope securely about five seconds later.

His momentum caused the rope to swing about seven feet out, and so he wrapped his body tightly around it.

It finally settled a couple of seconds later, and so he climbed his way down knot-by-knot and waited. The boy was out of breath, soaked with sweat, and worst of all, exhausted beyond comprehension.

As for the drill instructor, he slid down the rope with ease.

Of course, the boy already noticed that this man had not even broken a sweat—not even on his forehead.

As Humonus began to shake his head scornfully, his words confirmed, "You need a hell of a lot more work. It took you more than fifteen minutes to complete this course. Next time, I want you to accomplish it in under five minutes."

Still breathing raggedly, the boy replied, "Yes...sir."

"Take a half an hour lunch, and then we shall commence to doing some more physical exercises for the rest of the afternoon," the drill instructor concluded just before walking away.

"Yes, sir," Baltor said. Slowly and painfully, he made his way over to the lunch table. Once there, he began to munch on a loaf of wheat bread.

"So," Lydia most unexpectedly asked from behind him, "Are you enjoying it here?"

Startled but too exhausted to jump, he turned around. As soon as he faced her, he answered with a small portion of food still inside his mouth, "It's tough, and I don't think I'm doing so well if you want to know the truth."

She laughed a few times melodiously before answering, "That's all I've ever asked of you, Baltor, the truth. As for you not doing so well—nobody does well in the beginning. Remember this—soon enough any and all challenges will eventually be overcome. And also remember this—success is a road that you must pave for yourself. No one else can do it for you."

The boy pondered this for a few moments. He then asked, "Did you have to go through all of this yourself?"

"Yes, I did...everyone here does," Lydia answered. "As if you can't tell, I'm not exactly from around here...at the tender age of twelve, I was kidnapped from my parents and home in a land far away from here and kept as a slave. After nearly a year of my riding in one of their cages and going from town to town, I was finally bought. Unfortunately, the one who bought me would beat me senseless whenever I didn't do as he commanded."

"You were a slave?" Baltor asked in disbelief. "Then who was your master?"

After a single chuckle, Lydia replied, "The Sultan. I was one of his harem girls."

The boy looked at her in both shock and wonder. "How did you escape? Doesn't he still look for you?"

"In answer to your first question, I escaped with the help of one of the Sultan's generals," she answered. A wistful look suddenly appeared in her eyes as she added, "He had, upon seeing me for the first time in the Sultan's private quarters, fallen in love with me. I didn't find any of this out for several months until he told me of his feelings and delivered a potion for me to drink. He explained that its effects would only simulate death, but that I would return to normal in twenty-four hours. He promised me that he would take good care of me...if I wished."

She shrugged before stating, "Without any other choice at escape, I immediately drank the potion. As soon as the Sultan heard the news that I was dead and then seen it with his own eyes, he ordered a wagon cart to take me outside of the city to a gravesite. It was there the general waited until after the funeral was over. He then took my body out of the grave and hid me away in his place of residence. For the next year, I lived with him, and truth be told, we fell in love. Sadly, he died the following year in the Sultan's battle against the Mauritians."

After breathing a sigh of sorrow, she concluded, "As soon as I had found out this information from another servant, I packed a few outfits, left his place, took to the streets, and soon after—the Guild brought me in and gave me a new identity. To answer your second question, the Sultan doesn't know I'm still alive."

Baltor listened, enrapt in Lydia's tale. Once he was sure that she had finished speaking, he asked, "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

She chuckled a few times before answering, "I'm twenty-five."

"Wow," the boy sighed, as he felt his heart fluttering strangely. "I would never have guessed that—I thought you were like sixteen."

She laughed yet again before replying, "Thank you."

Just then, the boy peripherally observed his drill instructor fast approaching. He said to Lydia, "Well, it looks as if I'm about to go do some more 'hardcore training,' as my drill instructor likes to call it. It was definitely a pleasure to listen to what you had to say!"

With a smile, she promised, "Don't give up hope and you will see your own 'moment of glory'—soon enough."

Though Humonus was now nearby, he still yelled at the top of his lungs, "Baltor! To me. Now!"

"Yes, sir!" the boy replied with confidence in his voice, as well a small smile. With haste, he ran over to his drill instructor.

Because Baltor could not see behind him, he missed the smile that lingered upon Lydia's face. Still, for the remainder of the day, he pushed himself way beyond what he could have ever conceived possible...

## CHAPTER IV

After every long and grueling day had passed, Baltor slowly-but-surely discovered that he became fatigued less and less—even with only a minimal amount of sleep.

As the days turned into weeks, in which there were eight days every week, and the weeks turned into months, in which there were four weeks a month and thirteen months a year, he learned a bunch of awesome things.

First of all, his muscles were not only becoming _stronger_ , yet _bigger_!

Second, his timing and ability to maneuver through all six of the obstacle courses, each progressively harder, had improved quite a bit. Though Humonus rarely ever expressed any satisfaction as he unceasingly continued to push his student to do better, he did reveal the time frames for the courses, as well the physical training tests that got better every time.

Third, the boy learned how to maneuver at a decent pace through the dark tunnels by relying on his sense of sound alone. It was now a cinch to find his way from the barracks to the training area, in which there were five non-dangerous routes. The drill instructor had long ago warned and forbade the boy from exploring any other unlit tunnels, as they were both dangerous and deadly. Baltor followed all of Humonus' orders without question.

On the other hand, Baltor had also learned a couple of negative things despite the hundred or so nights he had lived in the barracks—he did not know exactly how many nights.

For one, he still did not have a single friend, in which he had only one opportunity to make friends, so far. About two weeks ago, he had entered the barracks early in the evening, noticing that most of his classmates were all hanging out together in the barracks and conversing with each other jovially. When Baltor had asked what everybody was joking about, one of the classmates named Muban unexpectedly told him to "Shut up, puke!" Baltor's feelings became even more hurt when the remainder began to call him other "mean names" while laughing raucously, so Baltor lay down in his bunk and pretended to fall asleep.

Of course, there were many occasions that he had woken up prematurely because of the other drill instructors who woke up his or her student at various times of the day or night. Baltor knew he had to keep quiet, as one other student had made the stupid mistake to yell back at a drill instructor about a month or so ago.

On that day in front of everyone, this boy had his hands smacked hard with a switch forty times. Twenty times by his drill instructor, and twenty times by the drill instructor he had yelled at in the first place. In the end, the boy's knuckles bled all over the place, and his eyes cried out a whole lot of tears.

The hardest thing for Baltor to deal with throughout these last few months was the fact that he hadn't seen Lydia even once, yet with every day that passed, he realized that he missed her that much more.

One day, or possibly one night, his drill instructor arrived at his student's bunk, noticing his student still slept. This time, unlike all of the previous times, he did not yell and scream. Instead, he quietly tapped Baltor on the shoulder until awake and then he said in just above a whisper, "I want you to report to my office in thirty minutes, as we have some important matters to discuss. When we're done with our meeting, you can come back here and go back to sleep until morning."

"Yes, sir," the Baltor replied before rising to his feet and heading for the food table. Meanwhile, the drill instructor left the barracks.

Baltor ate an orange, consumed a whole loaf of bread, and washed it down with a mug of water. After finishing breakfast, he made his way through the tunnels until reaching Drill Instructor Humonus' office.

Knocking on the side of the door, Baltor yelled out, as per protocol, "Sir, Baltor requests permission to enter, sir!"

"Enter."

The boy walked in front of the drill instructor's desk and assumed the position of attention. The drill instructor was sitting in his chair, but he had not looked up at all. Instead, he continued to flip from page to page as he read.

Perhaps a minute passed before Humonus closed the notebook, looked up and said with a smile, "Baltor, you have passed through Phase One of the training program. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, sir!"

"Tomorrow morning, Phase Two is about to commence," the drill instructor revealed. "In this stage, you will learn fighting skills that range from hand-to-hand techniques to handheld weapons training. Some students are slow learners and take many years before they even learn the rudimentary skills of fighting. Some students never make it through Phase Two at all. Before you can go on to Phase Three, you will have to prove your fighting skills."

Humonus paused for ten seconds to let these words sink in. He then said, "During weapons training, you may find a favorite type of weapon. But remember this—a thief may not have any weapon except his own hands, so he better damned be able to use them if he expects to get out alive."

The drill instructor paused for a few seconds to let this equally important info sink in before he continued, "From here on out, though it is not mandated, it would greatly benefit you to enhance your physical and dexterity skills through the obstacle courses during those afternoons I give you such free time. For now, as it is three in the morning, you can go back to bed until five when we begin training. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir," the boy exclaimed with a proud smile on his face.

He returned to his bed and tried to fall asleep, but all attempts failed, as he had become overly excited about this "new phase" of his training.

Precisely at five in the morning, the drill instructor arrived. Upon seeing his student lying there awake in his bunk while all the other students still slept, he softly spoke in the boy's ear, "Follow me."

"Yes, sir," Baltor said just before doing so. Along the way, he recognized something else besides the change of volume in the drill instructor's voice: the man had not called him any demeaning names like "maggot, or slime, or scum, or idiot." The boy felt he was being treated as a human now—with respect!

Humonus led the way to the training area, stopping at a massive rack that contained a vast arsenal of weapons—both training and real ones. It all sat in front of the opening of a smaller cavern, which happened to be the supply room.

After gesturing toward the rack, the drill instructor taught, "As I stated earlier, the first and greatest weapon that you will ever learn how to use is your own body. All of these other lesser weapons must only be an extension of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good," Humonus replied with a nod. "Hit me."

The boy sounded unconvinced as he asked, "Sir, why do you want me to hit you?"

Breathing out a single chuckle, the drill instructor answered, "Come on now, just hit me."

"Where would you like me to hit you, sir?"

Humonus' humored look instantly disappeared as severe irritation replaced it. "I don't care, for crying out loud—hit me!"

So, with all of his might, the boy swung his right fist at Humonus' face.

A nanosecond before it would have made contact, the drill instructor twisted his body out of the way, and the student only hit thin air.

"Do it again!"

This time, Baltor swung with his left fist, and again, Humonus twisted out of the way. His punch missed.

The drill instructor shrieked at the top of his lungs, " _Try harder!!_ "

The boy anticipated at which direction his drill instructor would dodge next. Making his best guess seconds later, he swung his right fist in that direction with all of his might.

Humonus evaded the punch by pivoting his body, which threw his student off balance. With both hands, he straight away grabbed Baltor's extended fist and yanked while twisting. This complicated maneuver caused the boy's back to slam hard into the ground!

For the next minute, he only saw shooting stars. Still, he could hear his drill instructor say, "In order to beat the enemy, you must first become that enemy."

Once Baltor had begun to regain clarity of vision, he looked up at Humonus in disbelief.

"Stand up," the drill instructor ordered. "Let me show you how to punch correctly."

The boy stood up as ordered but instantly became afraid—he flinched in terror when his drill instructor cocked back his fist.

Holding perfectly still, Humonus stated coolly, "Quit shaking like a little baby...take it like a man."

The boy tried to calm his fears but to no avail.

The drill instructor relaxed his posture just before he explained, "Listen...in any combat situation whatsoever, not only must you be able to dish it out, but you must also be able to take it. As I explained once before—if you don't think that you can do it, you know where you can go."

Baltor sucked in a deep breath in order to regain his nerves—at that same moment, Humonus launched a full-forced punch into his student's chest. Upon contact, the boy's body flew backward about five feet and rolled several times over until stopping.

This time, however, Baltor remained unconscious and did not get up.

An undetermined period later, he awoke to the painful sensation of someone slapping his face hard and repeatedly.

When the drill instructor noticed that his student had opened his eyes, he stood up and yelled, "Sit up!"

With tears flowing down his face yet still barely able to breathe, Baltor did as ordered by slowly sitting up.

While pointing his index finger up as a physical prompt, the drill instructor said evenly, "As you just learned the hard way, one good hit is all it would take to finish off any opponent—just one. You understand? You must make the first solid hit. First time. Every time."

"Yes, sir," the boy said while wiping the tears off.

"One hit," the drill instructor continued, "in the right spot, with the right amount of force, and with the whole of your body to back it up."

He paused for a few moments to let it sink in. He then asked, "But what if your opponent is wearing body armor? Well, certainly then, punching his gut won't work. What if your opponent is wearing a helmet? Obviously, punching his head is just as futile."

After lightly shaking his still-extended finger a few times in the air, he stopped shaking it before teaching, "Therefore, the first lesson is this: Learn your opponent's strengths and weaknesses before you attack, yet always be ready with a good defense in case your opponent attacks first. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Baltor replied eagerly.

"Not yet you don't, but you will," the drill instructor countered. "Stand up, and I want you to strike me again."

The boy stood up and tried to judge his drill instructor's weaknesses. He thought that perhaps he could launch a punch into the side of his gut, since it did not look guarded, and so he made his strike.

However, with but a tiny flick of his hand, Humonus grabbed the fist and twisted yet another direction—this simple motion caused the boy's body to fly before his back crashed hard once more into the ground!

For the third time that day, the boy saw shooting stars, yet his mind was clear enough to think, _This is getting to be a bad habit!_

Upon hearing his drill instructor order, "On your feet," Baltor did as ordered. However, his balance was still so completely off that he crashed right back onto the ground.

The drill instructor knelt on one knee next to his student, pointed two fingers into the air, and said, "The second lesson is this: Always, always, always keep yourself in a defensive position, no matter what."

Baltor gulped before speaking, "Yes, sir."

Humonus stood, extended his hand out to his student, pulled him back onto his feet, and then ordered, "I want you to take a break and then meet me back here."

The boy muttered, "Yes, sir."

With trembling legs, he stumbled his way over to the break table, and once there, he poured himself a glass of water with shaky hands. After taking a long swallow, he only then realized just how badly his stomach, his back, his head—hell, his entire body ached. He thought, _This is even worse than the first phase!_ _At least I didn't have him beating the crap out of me back then_.

Suddenly, from out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice a beautiful, middle-aged woman enter the cavern from the entryway tunnel. Her age was evident solely from the thick silver streak that lined her wavy raven-colored hair and certainly not from her youthful face. She wore a silky blue dress that loosely contoured around her shapely body, and would have been touching the floor, had she not been holding a good portion of it with her left fist.

A six or seven-year-old girl dressed in dirty rags followed right behind her. Once the two stopped, the girl began to look all around in utter amazement. For the most part, the woman stared at the girl.

Baltor took another long drink of water and watched the woman turn toward one of the other training areas. Loudly she called out, "Drill Instructor Manichai, are you training any students?"

Two men—fiercely battling it out with real swords and not wearing any shirts—stopped their intense battle. The man on the left had black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, thick angular eyebrows, and a long braided beard. The man on the right was clean-shaven and bald. Both men were muscular and sweaty.

It was the man with the beard who answered in deep-tones, "No, my mistress, I am not...neither am I looking. But I _DO_ know that Drill Instructor Jeramone is looking."

The woman asked, "Drill Instructor Jeramone, are you willing to train this girl, Vakshia?"

With a sneer, Jeramone replied, "Her? You've got to be kidding me! She's nothing but skin and bones! Throw her back on the streets and let the sun rot her out!" His crackly voice sounded as if he was still going through puberty.

Baltor stifled back a laugh.

The girl, now looking angry, boldly declared, "How about we let the sun rot you out, which task seems nearly complete?"

Her retaliatory reply both startled and amused Baltor. Even Manichai and the mysterious mistress had to stifle a laugh.

Jeramone, on the other hand, looked peeved off, especially with that evil glare on his beet-red face and that sword in his hand that trembled angrily. He looked like he was about to yell something back or maybe even slice off the girl's head. Vakshia was starting to look scared too, but she did not cower away.

Slowly, that murderous look on Jeramone disappeared, and what replaced it was one of total serenity.

He took a deep breath, released it, took another deep breath, and said with an impressed tone of voice, "Perhaps you do have potential to become a thief because you did not run off like a little coward. Follow me! See you later, Mani and my Mistress."

"Later, Jer," Manichai replied. The woman nodded her head a couple of times.

Baltor continued to watch as the two—Jeramone and the girl—disappeared down the tunnel that led to Humonus' office. He also watched as Manichai and the woman conversed together in hushed tones.

Only a few seconds had passed before he heard his drill instructor call out from their training area, "Baltor—time's up!"

The boy replied, "Yes, sir." As he ran over, he observed that his drill instructor now donned brown leather armor upon his torso that was long-sleeved, a steel helmet that not only protected his head and neck yet most of his face, and a mischievous smile.

"Feeling better?" Humonus asked, still smiling all the while.

Baltor replied, "Yes, sir!"

"Good," The drill instructor laughed. Suddenly, his face transformed from humored to menacing just before he yelled, "Find my weakness and strike—be quick about it! And I mean _NOW!_ "

Because the boy saw no armor leggings, he attempted to launch a kick at his drill instructor's legs.

Humonus dodged it effortlessly while yelling, "Quicker!"

Instead of kicking again, Baltor leaped hard and low.

Although the drill instructor attempted to dodge, he could not escape the boy's grasping hands around both of his kneecaps. His knees buckled underneath him and he crashed hard into the ground with his student right on top!

When the boy realized that his tactic had worked—that he had bested his drill instructor—he beamed a big smile while saying happily, "Yes, sir!"

Still lying on the ground with his student on top, Humonus said with enthusiasm, "Good job. Now get the hell off me!" His second statement had sounded angry.

Baltor wasted no time in carrying out the order.

After the drill instructor had risen to his feet, he pointed three fingers up into the air and said, "You have just demonstrated the third lesson: If one tactic doesn't work, switch to another."

"Thank you, sir," the boy said with a huge smile on his face.

"Don't get cocky there," Humonus countered. "You have much, much more to learn."

Erasing his smile, Baltor replied, "Yes, sir!"

The drill instructor walked over to the rack and pulled off a sword made of wood. As he casually tossed it from hand to hand, he barked, "Now come at me again!"

The boy did not lunge at him this time but waited for the right moment to strike.

This time, unlike the first time, Humonus did not wait—he slowly advanced upon his student, all the while twirling his sword ever so rapidly around the front of his body with his right hand.

Though the boy backed away from his drill instructor, he never turned his back on him, either.

With a loud roar, Humonus swung his sword down in an angled attack that surely would have struck Baltor in the head—had the boy not leaped to his right and crashed to the ground, a split-second earlier.

Before Baltor could get back onto his feet, he already saw the sword plunging toward him again.

Instinctively, he fell backward, the sword just missing him by mere inches. Before he could even think of moving, the tip of the sword caressed his throat.

"Game over," Humonus declared with a tight smile. He walked over to the weapons rack, placing the sword in its rightful place.

In the meantime, the boy stood again and waited for his next order.

After the drill instructor had taken off his helmet and set it comfortably into the nook of his right elbow, he began to wipe the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead with his left hand. Once done, he revealed, "You need a lot of work with your form, and _THIS_ leads me to your fourth lesson: Unite your body as a whole, making it fluidic like water. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Not exactly, sir," the boy confessed.

"Let me explain what I mean before I show you," the drill instructor said. He first held up his left hand with his thumb sticking out, and then he taught, "Most people make the mistake of dividing their body up into individual pieces. For example, here is my thumb, here is my pinky, here is my arm, here is my leg, here is my chest, here is my head, etc., etc. Yet only the best of the best of warriors know that the secret to fighting is by uniting their bodies and making it one single piece of machinery ready for anything. Do you understand me so far?"

"Yes, sir, I think I do," Baltor said with a single nod of his head.

Humonus set the helmet onto the ground before he explained while demonstrating, "Therefore, the best stance is to keep one foot forward, while your other foot remains at a ninety-degree angle from it at all times. Ensure your knees are slightly bent. And ensure you evenly center and distribute your body weight between your feet. Assume the stance."

The boy did as told but it felt extremely uncomfortable.

The drill instructor confirmed, "At first, you will feel awkward, as well will you be clumsy during any and all of your movements because you are still divided. But the more you practice and make your body one piece of machinery, the easier and more comfortable it gets. Now watch the complex movements I can make based on this simple, ninety-degree stance."

In one swift movement, he leaped forward while extending his hands out in front. As soon as those hands made contact with the ground, he tucked his body into a roll; and once complete, he stood on his feet in the same ninety-degree stance.

Without saying a word, he forthwith extended his hands out to his right, leaped in the same direction, and tucked his body into a roll. A second later, his feet were once again in the correct position, ninety degrees, although his body now faced a different direction.

He added, "When you get good, you can even roll backward. Watch carefully."

He demonstrated his words—he fell straight back, slapped his hands hard into the ground, tilted his head to the side, rolled his body backward, and was once more on his feet in the correct position. He ordered, "Now you try rolling forward."

Baltor tried, but his shoulder crashed into the ground, which sent shooting spasms of pain all across that area.

"Try again," the drill instructor stated evenly.

The boy stood up and retried the feat, despite his shoulder that still ached. This time he was able to accomplish the roll, even though the entire maneuver felt incredibly uncomfortable and awkward.

"Ninety degrees," Humonus said. "Try it again."

Baltor tried several times over, each time getting a little bit better.

Finally, the time came when the drill instructor stated with a nod, "Not too bad. Now try rolling to the right."

The boy leaped to the right, and even though he was able to get back up on his feet, his foot positioning was wrong.

"Ninety degrees," Humonus clipped. "Try again."

Again, Baltor tried; and again, his feet ended up in the wrong position.

The drill instructor shook his head a few times before saying, "Work on it, later. Now, I want you to roll backward."

Baltor attempted the feat but failed miserably as his back slammed into the ground before his arms could stop the fall. For the fourth time that day, he saw shooting stars, and now he couldn't even get his body to roll back over itself, much less move.

The drill instructor shook his head. "Slap your hands hard into the ground—it hurts a lot less than your back. Also, tilt your head to the side. Try again."

After the boy had slowly stood back up, he tried this maneuver again but did no better than the first time.

"Work on that later in your own free time—I have more to teach you right now," the drill instructor said.

"Yes, sir," Baltor replied, now completely sore yet again.

After Humonus had resumed the stance himself, he ordered, "Assume the stance."

The boy did as told.

While extending his hands and arms out at the same angle as his feet, the drill instructor taught, "Anywhere inside this ninety-degree span should always be your target area for offenses or defenses. With the simple pivoting of your feet, left or right, you can already have another ninety degrees covered without moving from your spot."

Once he had demonstrated the pivot, first left and then right, he ordered, "Now you try."

The boy repeated the pivoting without trouble—his feet were the only body parts that did not hurt.

"Good, good," the drill instructor congratulated with a nod. "Now with each and every attack or defense, punches, kicks, blocks, or rolls—all your movements must be contained within the perimeter of your stance. If any part of your body falls outside of that perimeter, your balance will be off, and your opponent will easily finish you off. Any questions?"

"Yes, sir, I have one."

"Yes?"

"How do I protect myself if someone's attacking me from behind?"

"Good question," Humonus answered. "There are three ways to do this. One...a defensive roll, which we have just gone over. Two, a defensive block. Or three, an offensive strike. Although you are not ready to learn the second or third ways, yet, watch my demonstration."

He forthwith launched into a one-minute set that consisted of punches, kicks, and rolls that utterly startled the student. This man had every area covered, using breathtaking speeds, precise movements, and a whole lot of power.

Upon completion of his demonstration, he stopped, resumed a normal stance and faced his student. He had not broken a sweat, nor was he out of breath, nor did he speak.

"Oh, my God," Baltor could only say about ten seconds later.

The drill instructor sighed before replying, "I am not God. I am a man. In time, should you make it through Phase Two, you will be able to accomplish all of this and much, much more. Any other questions?"

"One, sir. How did you learn all of this?"

"To answer your question in a nutshell—centuries ago, a traveler from a faraway land came to us and taught us these fighting skills. Only higher-grade thieves may learn the full history," Humonus answered. "For now, concern yourself with some lunch."

"Yes, sir," Baltor replied just before he wearily made his way over to the lunch table, looking at the ground most of the time.

Upon nearing the table, he observed that the new girl was over there, heartily munching away by herself. He reasoned that it was probably due to the fatigue and the suffering that he could not remember her name for the life of him.

After stopping in front of the table, he silently poured himself a glass of water, picked off a piece of bread, and began to chew. From his peripheral vision, he could see the girl now throwing sidelong glances over at him.

Once she had wiped her mouth with the dirty sleeve of her shirt, she said a bit shyly, "Hi."

With his mouth full of food, he replied, "Hello." He picked up his mug and took a drink to wash down the remaining bread—never once did he look directly at her.

"What's your name?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I'm Baltor," he replied just before he took another swallow of water. He grabbed a banana, and as he turned toward her, he began to peel it open. He noticed that despite her dirty face and snarled hair, she appeared to be cute, for a little girl, that is.

Just before he took a bite of the banana, he asked, "You?"

"My name's Vakshia." Now sounding curious, she asked, "How long have you been here?"

"I don't really know, to be honest with you. Months, I suppose," he said before chuckling a few times. He then asked, "You got here today, right?"

"Yeah," Vakshia replied. "Is this place tough?"

He laughed one time before taking another bite of his banana, and muttering, "That's an understatement."

"Really?" she asked with a nervous tension to her voice.

After swallowing the last bite of his banana, he answered, "Yes, it is—I can't lie to you. But you seem like a pretty tough girl, Vakshia!"

There was still tension in her voice as she sighed, "I don't know. The things that my drill instructor is telling me to do are impossible. He never seems to be happy even though I'm trying my hardest!"

"Well, what helped me to get through all of this were the encouraging words from a friend of mine. Now how did she put it?"

He scrunched his eyes nearly shut in order to recall. When the recollection came a few moments later, he opened his eyes while reciting, "'As for you not doing so well—nobody does well in the beginning. Remember this...soon enough any and all challenges will eventually be overcome. And also remember this...success is a road that you must pave for yourself.'"

She silently pondered the message. The boy wolfed down the final bite of his banana.

Finally, she said, "I will have—"

From the first obstacle course, Jeramone interrupted their conversation by screaming, "Vakshia, to me, _NOW!_ "

Baltor could not help but smile as he watched her run over to Jeramone and scream, "Yes, sir!"

Silently and stealthily, Humonus had managed to sneak up behind his student just before whispering right in his left ear, "Baltor."

The boy jumped nearly a foot into the air. With his heart racing and now holding his right hand over it, he turned around to face his drill instructor before asking, "Yes, sir?"

Speaking at a normal volume, Humonus said, "For the rest of the day, I shall let you practice today's lessons on your own. Practice as long as you want, but remember this...the more you practice, the better you'll get. Do make sure you eat dinner and get some sleep too. We have much to learn tomorrow."

Baltor snapped, "Yes, sir!"

"Dismissed."

Once the drill instructor had departed the area via one of the unlit tunnels, Baltor decided to practice his rolls. Despite the pounding that he added to his already sore muscles, he continued to practice for nearly an hour or so—until an interesting idea sprang to mind.

He thought aloud, "Maybe I could just integrate the training and combine it all with the obstacle courses?"

The boy jogged over to the first obstacle course, noting that Vakshia was standing next to the knotted rope and listening to her drill instructor scream reprimands, insults, and curses. Drawing closer, he perceived that tears were steadily pouring down her eyes.

In between one of those screams, Baltor asked, "Sir—do you mind if I jump in and use this obstacle course?"

Jeramone glanced over and muttered, "I don't care. Say, why don't you do just that and show this freaking weakling how it's done?"

After taking about ten steps back, Baltor ran for the rope and leaped as high and as hard as he could. He gripped it at eight feet up in the air just before beginning to climb. Once at the top about twenty seconds later, he slid back down. Without looking back, he ran for the next obstacle while overhearing her drill instructor yell, "You see? It is possible...now you do it just like that and get the hell up there!"

Long after the last person had departed the training cavern, Baltor continued his hardcore training.

When literal exhaustion was about to take him over, he decided to call it a night, and so he headed for the barracks. Upon entering, he observed that Vakshia and all the other students were zonked out. After eating dinner and utilizing the latrine, he went to bed himself.

The following morning, Humonus woke his student as he did the day before—without yelling.

Baltor ate a quick breakfast while noticing that all of the other students in the barracks had left; his mind guessed that they were training.

As the two made their way to their training area in silence, the student wondered if he had now acquired his teacher's respect.

Reaching the weapons rack, Humonus began, "Today, we shall review yesterday's lessons and see how far, or how little, you've progressed. Assume the stance."

Baltor did.

The drill instructor, however, noticed some imperfections, for he kicked his student's rear foot lightly until it was correct. Once so, he stated, "I said ninety degrees. Now roll forward."

Baltor leaped forward, extended his hands, tucked his body in, did the roll, and was back up on his feet.

Humonus yelled, "I said, ninety degrees!"

The boy looked down at his feet, and as he saw that they were not so, he shifted his feet until they were.

"Roll left," the drill instructor ordered without emotion.

Baltor performed the somersault correctly, for the most part, but his feet positioning must have been wrong yet again—for Humonus ran up and screamed, "Ninety degrees! How many times must I tell you this?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm really sore," the student explained in truth. "My body's not working like it should."

Still looking agitated, the drill instructor shook his head a couple of times, sucked in a deep breath, and then relaxed. "Fine then, sit down on the ground."

The boy sat.

"Extend your legs straight out, stretch your arms out, and without bending your knees, reach for your toes with your hands," the drill instructor ordered.

Baltor found that his flexibility was not good at all, for he could not reach his toes without bending his knees.

Humonus sighed in frustration before stating, "Well, then. I see we've found another weak spot—flexibility. From now on, we will work on that area through leg stretches and exercises before you begin your morning training sessions. For now, follow me."

"Yes, sir," Baltor said as he achingly stood up, and followed.

The drill instructor led the way toward one of the unlit tunnels on the right side of the cavern, in which the student had never entered this one before.

Overall, they passed through twelve different tunnels with six dangerous pitfalls; the longest tunnel was maybe a half-mile, while the shortest was forty feet; in the tightest tube that resembled a wormhole, they both had to crawl on their bellies to squeeze through.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Baltor, he observed about fifty feet ahead in this twelfth tunnel the sunlight that streamed down from what appeared to be a sewage grill in the middle. A twenty-foot ladder leaned against the wall, right under the grill itself.

The drill instructor climbed the ladder, opened the grill, looked around quickly, and after a gesture with his hand to follow, he disappeared.

The boy followed. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, he realized that his eyes were not used to the sun whatsoever, and so he narrowed them until they were tiny slits. He fuzzily made out that he was in someone's backyard, as there stood a tall mansion that was far too shiny for him to decipher. After looking the other way, he saw a blurry garden—mostly green and red. His nostrils couldn't help but smell the strong scent of flowers.

"Well, come on and be quick about it," Humonus ordered.

The boy climbed his way out before the drill instructor shut the grill.

"Follow me," Humonus said. He led the way to an underground stone fountain that shot water ten feet up into the air. Once there, he ordered, "Hop in and wash yourself down real quick, yet real thoroughly from head to toe. No dirt or mud on you."

"Yes, sir." By the time Baltor had finished washing his body in the lukewarm water, about a minute later, his eyes had become semi-used to the sunlight.

Noticing that the boy was clean, the drill instructor ordered, "Follow me."

"Yes, sir."

Humonus led the way to another stone underground pool, but these waters were boiling and steaming even in the hot air. "Take off your clothes first, other than your underwear, and then sit down in the water."

"You sure that this water's safe, sir?"

"Yes, Baltor."

After the boy had carried out the first command, he proceeded with the second. Slowly, he placed just his left foot into the water, becoming quite a bit surprised that the intense heat didn't cook him. All the while, the drill instructor said not a word, yet continued to survey his surroundings for guards or anyone else.

It took Baltor nearly a half-minute before he could sit down entirely in the neck-deep waters, as each section of his body had to get used to the water.

Right away, his tense and sore muscles relaxed while his eyes closed of their volition. However, his mind wanted his eyes to stay open to explore his elegant surroundings.

Perhaps a minute after sitting down, he no longer had any doubt that this pool felt so relaxing and spectacular. After opening his eyes, he discovered with surprise that Humonus sat inside the pool at the opposite end—his boots, socks, pants, and shirt folded neatly on the ground.

"Sir, how is it that this water is so hot, looking but not feeling like it is boiling?"

" _Ahhhhh_...they call this type of pool a spa," Humonus answered just before closing his eyes and crossing his hands behind the back of his head. "I suspect that an underground furnace heats it and that the bubbles popping up at the surface come from compressed air that continuously circulates through tubes from the heater and into the bottom of this here spa. I only discovered this place last week but have been here four times so far. _Wonderful!_ "

"Yes, sir!" As the boy's eyes had fully readjusted to the sunlight, he took "a good look" around. A beautiful rose garden surrounded them, concealed from the outside world by a fifty-foot-tall black-bricked wall surrounding the entire property. The property also included the three-story mansion that looked like a greenhouse, except for the fact that all of the bronze-tinted window panels reflected dozens of brilliant, bronze suns.

By the time he had completed his look around, he felt so completely relaxed that he had found himself getting a bit sleepy. After a short yawn, he asked, "Where are we, sir?"

Once more glancing around to ensure that the coast was still clear, Humonus answered, "Let's just say that we're someplace we shouldn't be. If the owner and his large entourage of guards should happen to come back home and discover us here, they'll probably kill us!"

Looking and sounding confused, Baltor asked, "Why did you take the risk?"

"I see some serious potential in you, boy. You have _raw talent_ that most thieves never acquire. It has only taken you months to complete what others have taken years, if ever. I considered the risk well worth it."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Don't get used to this nice treatment," the drill instructor countered neutrally. "You have so much more to learn—and I have so much more to teach. Let's go."

He stepped out of the pool and began dressing. His student followed suit.

On the way back, Baltor felt so incredibly refreshed and great! As soon as they had arrived inside the training cavern, nearly a half-hour later, he felt more than ready to take on anything that his drill instructor had to teach.

Not surprisingly, Humonus was back to his old self as he instructed, "I shall now teach you the ten stretching exercises I was talking about earlier. Of course, I want you to perform them alongside me. Later down the road, I'll teach you advanced stretching exercises that will greatly help you in your fighting skills."

"Yes, sir!"

One after the other, the drill instructor began to teach and demonstrate the ten exercises.

Swiftly figuring out how to do the exercises, the boy performed them. Only twice did he need correcting.

Fifteen minutes later, once he had stretched everything out, the drill instructor made his student repeatedly demonstrate his somersaulting abilities and for the next several hours. For the most part, the boy performed everything correctly.

Finally came the time when the drill instructor said, "It's lunchtime. But before you go ahead and head to the lunch table to eat, know that I'm releasing you for the day to train on your own. See you tomorrow morning bright and early."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, Humonus exited the area, via one of the dark tunnels.

Baltor walked toward the lunch table and began to eat. Following, he spent not just the entire afternoon yet well into the night training hardcore on his own—three hours after the last of the students and drill instructors had departed the training cavern.

After eating dinner—three loaves of bread, two oranges, and some water—he headed for the barracks, noticing that all of the students were already sleeping.

He hopped into bed, sleeping like never before...blissfully away.

Awakening early the next morning on his own, he discovered that the other students _still_ _slept_ —and that he felt in _tip-top shape_. His body wasn't sore at all.

While eating breakfast in the barracks, he decided to meet his drill instructor at their training area. Still, not a single student had woken up by the time he had left the barracks.

Shortly before his arrival, another idea sprang into Baltor's mind just in case Humonus wasn't there at the training area after Baltor's arrival. Seeing this to be the case, he began performing all of his stretching exercises, so that by the time his drill instructor arrived, they could immediately train.

A second or two before Humonus could enter the tunnel that led to the barracks nearly twenty minutes later; he heard his student ask, "Sir?"

Looking over and seeing the boy rising to his feet, the drill instructor's mouth dropped open a bit in astonishment, though that look lasted for only a single moment in time. He halted, turned to face his student, and asked, "Are you ready to perform your stretching exercises, Baltor?"

The boy replied with pride, "I already did them, sir!"

"Really," Humonus said with an impressed tone. As he began to walk toward their training area, he said, "Impressive. Roll left."

The boy somersaulted to the left. As soon as he had completed this maneuver, he looked down and noticed that he had his feet correctly placed at a ninety-degree angle.

The drill instructor ordered, "Roll forward."

Baltor did as ordered.

"Roll backward. Roll right. Roll left. Roll forward. Roll back. Roll forward twice in a row. Quite impressive."

"Thank you, sir!"

"You are ready to begin lesson five: The attack," the drill instructor stated with a smooth voice.

The boy replied with enthusiasm, "Yes, sir!"

"I shall now teach you the various styles of punches that utilize the entirety of your body," Humonus said. "Once I feel that you are ready to go to the next step, we shall go to kicks."

"Yes, sir!"

For the remainder of the training session that lasted for the next seven hours, the drill instructor taught the four different types of punches to his student; each strike began and ended in the same basic foot stance.

The four punches that he taught—in turn—were a straightforward, a twister, a roundhouse, and an uppercut. Before proceeding from one type to the next—not only did he demonstrate it, he made his student repeat it many, many, many times over.

It was while this practicing was going on that Humonus refused to show any more of his feelings and smile—in truth, he was very much in awe because the kid did it right after only a few tries.

Next, the drill instructor began to teach the basic blocks to hits and kicks. These blocks did not mean just using a hand yet the entire body while re-establishing the feet back into the ninety-degrees at the end of the blocking technique.

Once the boy appeared to have this all down, at lunchtime, the drill instructor dismissed his student for the rest of the day.

Like the day before, Baltor trained hardcore. This time he went through the second obstacle course, while occasionally stopping here and there to practice a roll, throw one of his new punches, or block. Also like the day before, long after the other students had left the training cavern, he continued training well into the night.

The next morning, the drill instructor saw his student at their spot, in which he had just started his stretching. He took a couple of steps back inside the tunnel so he could watch the boy without being watched, and waited.

Once Humonus realized that his student was close to being finished, he proceeded to walk that direction. Three-quarters of the way there, he yelled out, "Baltor! Roll right. Block up. Roll backward twice. Nice! Throw a roundhouse. Block right. Roll forward three times in a row. Throw an uppercut. No, no, you need to use your whole body, like this. Try again! Good! Now throw a twister. No—like this! Try it again. Much better! Roll left. Throw two straight punches in a row using both hands. Block down. Throw two twister punches back to back. Block right. Roll right. Throw two roundhouses back to back. Excellent! You are now ready to learn the kicks."

"Thank you, sir!"

The drill instructor taught, "In the same way as the punches, your kicks must be used by the whole body. If they are not, then they become pointless. As there are four basic punches, so are there four basic kicks."

One after the other, he taught those four kicks: a straight-up, a roundhouse, a ground sweep and a flying kick.

Because the kicks proved to be a whole lot harder for Baltor to learn than the punches, Humonus had him repeatedly demonstrate the kicks for the entire day.

The following morning, he attempted to test his student in these areas—however, as he quickly discovered, Baltor had not yet achieved the needed leg flexibility.

"Hmmm," Humonus hummed aloud while shaking his head a couple of times. "It appears that you are ready to learn some leg stretches. Let's start with the splits."

Baltor tried, but could only get himself halfway down...and that was it.

Therefore, the drill instructor assisted, pushing his student down until he yelped out in pain. For the remainder of this day, Humonus helped his student with performing twelve additional "painful" leg stretches and leg exercises, as well having him practice his punches, blocks, and somersaults.

That evening around dinnertime, instead of dismissing his student, the drill instructor snuck the two of them to the spa. Fortune smiled yet again, as there was no one around.

After a week of leg stretches and exercises every morning, and another two top secret trips to the spa at night by himself, Baltor could now comfortably sit in both the side and front splits.

To increase that flexibility still more, the drill instructor often assisted by picking up one of the boy's legs and stretching it as far as it could go.

During the afternoons of this same week, Humonus either tested Baltor on his punches, blocks, and rolls; or just dismissed his student, allowing him to practice on his own.

Once the next week had begun, the drill instructor reacquainted his student with the four forms of kicking. This time, the boy performed all of the kicks with ease. Once accomplished to the drill instructor's level of satisfaction, he tested his student in the rolls, the punches, the blocks, and the kicks—always in variation.

After Baltor had passed this final test with satisfactory results, only two days later, Humonus' only congratulatory reply was, "Tomorrow, we begin with weapons. Dismissed."

As the boy lay in bed on the verge of falling asleep after dinner, it suddenly dawned on him that he had not seen Vakshia for some time. In that same moment, he happened to look over at the lunch table and saw that only one other student currently awake and eating by himself at the table.

Thesmul was not only three years older than Baltor, which made him much bigger and stronger, yet this freckle-ridden, dark-redheaded teenager was the ringleader of the social clique, as well the meanest bully. He picked on the other students far more than anyone else did.

Still, Baltor's curiosity was greater than his fears as he asked, "Hey, Thesmul. Have you seen Vakshia lately?"

Although Thesmul did not answer the question, he did begin to laugh raucously while leaving the barracks.

Baltor wondered to himself, only moments before he drifted off to sleep, _I wonder if something happened to her? I'm going to have to find out tomorrow_.

The following morning, just after the boy had completed all of his stretching exercises, his drill instructor arrived.

Without as much as a "good morning," Humonus pulled two wooden daggers from the weapons rack. He then instructed, "Every weapon must be nothing more than an extension of your own body, and every attack or defense begins and ends within the confines of your basic stance, regardless of the size of the weapon or weapons you may be carrying. For learning purposes, we shall start off with the smallest and lightest of weapons, and gradually work up to the longest and larg—"

Baltor interrupted, "Sir, before we continue, I have a question that I'd like to ask, please."

"What would...you like...to know?" the drill instructor breathed out slowly, apparently irritated at this interruption.

"There...there was this other student and her name is Vakshia, sir," Baltor answered. "I haven't seen her for some time. Do you know what happened to her?"

Following a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Humonus replied, "Nobody knows what happened to her. She disappeared a few days ago and hasn't been seen since."

"Do you think she escaped?"

"That," Humonus answered, "is extremely doubtful. Never before, since the Guild's origins nearly five centuries ago, have any of our beginning students discovered the secret location of the underground latch that opens the tile in the fountain room. Yes, it is true that advanced students are granted this 'classified information,' as they are free to come and go as they please. In fact, they have their very own barracks that I'm ninety-nine percent sure you're not aware of, about a mile away down that tunnel where you see my finger pointing. This tunnel has no lights, is filled with pitfalls that can cripple or kill, and booby-trapped for even more security."

He sucked in a deep breath before adding, "And, yes, it is also true that no advanced student has ever stupidly revealed the location to a beginning student. And not just because of the oath that they swore to upon first joining the Guild...Baltor, I have two questions for you. Even though it has been a little over seven months since you took the 'Oath of the Guild,' do you perchance still remember it, and if so, would you please recite it for me?"

Scrunching his eyes in contemplation and then getting the answer, the boy cleared his throat before answering, "Yes sir, I do remember it, and, yes sir, I will recite it."

He recited, "'I, Baltor, do solemnly swear, never to reveal the secret location of this thieves' guild that shall henceforth be known as the Guild. Nor to reveal the secrets of the Guild that are about to be taught to me. Nor will I ever reveal any of the secret members of the Guild under any circumstances—ever! And if I even begin to think of betraying this solemn oath, I swear that I will first acquire a dagger, cut my own eyes out, then my tongue, then each of my fingers and thumbs, and finally, plunge that dagger into my heart with my feet.'"

"Excellent, Baltor," the drill instructor congratulated with a few enthusiastic handclaps.

"Thank you, sir," the boy said with a proud smile. For some strange reason, he had never forgotten that oath since he had taken it about seven months ago. To him, it felt more like seven years.

Humonus sucked in a deep breath before continuing, "Now I shall commence with the second reason that Vakshia couldn't have escaped that route. If you recall, it involves the lethally trained guards that protect all the sets of double doors leading to the outside world. Even if she had received the secret info from an advanced student and tried to escape through the fountain room, the guards would have killed her right away. They would have then reported the incident to their commanding officer, who would have reported it to the High Council. After all, the guards know who is allowed, and not allowed, to pass."

Pointing his left index finger up in the air, he revealed, "The only other way Vakshia could have escaped was through a vast underground maze of deadly tunnels that easily triples the size of the entire city above us. Furthermore, the Guild sealed off most of those tunnels intentionally, in order to make escape nearly impossible. No beginning student has ever successfully escaped quote-unquote 'the labyrinth' since our founders started the Guild."

"For all these reasons," Humonus said sympathetically, "we've all presumed that she died in a training accident, Baltor."

Baltor's eyes slightly bulged, and his mouth dropped open in a bit in disbelief. Finally, he muttered, "No."

"I'm sorry, Baltor," Humonus said. "Drill Instructor Jeramone was even called forth yesterday before the High Council to report what he believed had happened to Vakshia. Last night at the bar, after we had drunk a few rounds, he told me all about it."

After making sure no one else was nearby, he continued, "With sadness in his eyes, he told me that she had just begun to train through the obstacle courses at night without his assistance, even though he secretly oversaw her just about every night to make sure she didn't get killed. With tears literally flowing out of the man's eyes, he informed me that the very night Vakshia disappeared that he had been busy catching up on his errands. Because she is now missing-in-action, he feels so guilty and horrible. I believe the man was telling the truth, as I have worked alongside him for many years—he genuinely cares about his students! Trust me that he has sought her out to the best of his ability, but no luck. Sorry, Baltor, these things happen."

Baltor's face continued to betray disappointment and grief.

A few seconds passed before Humonus' left eyebrow rose upward while his right lowered. He asked, "Did you know Vakshia personally?"

Sniffing back the mucus while fighting back the tears, the boy answered, "I only talked to her once."

The drill instructor shook his head a couple of times before asking, "So why the tears?"

After formulating the right words, the boy answered, "I don't know, sir. Maybe because I believed, I wanted to believe that she could succeed."

The very second he had finished broadcasting his answer, his peripheral vision picked up Thesmul about sixty feet away from their current position. He was walking over to the lunch table about eighty feet away—never did Baltor's head or eyes turn, but neither did Thesmul's.

Humonus replied thoughtfully, "Hmmm..."

Baltor only then became quite angry as his memory recalled the cocky laugh that this worm had given to him last night. Still, he kept his voice tightly under control as he asked, "Sir?"

"Yes?"

Only because Baltor was sure that Thesmul was now out of listening range, he threw a cock of his head up and to the left. He then asked just above a whisper, "What do you know of him?"

Humonus asked just as quietly, "Who?"

Baltor threw another cock of his head over before answering, "Him."

Though the drill instructor made it appear as if he was yawning and stretching, what he was really doing was covertly looking over in the direction that his student's head indicated.

Perhaps ten seconds later, he stopped, turned back to face his student, and asked with a bit of surprise, "Thesmul?"

"Yes, sir," Baltor muttered while unconsciously averting his eyes toward the lunch table, noticing that Thesmul had picked up a loaf of bread, and was about to take a bite.

Though the drill instructor did not understand the curiosity that Baltor had for this other student, he quickly drew his own student's mind back to reality by snapping his fingers once right next to his ear, and saying, "Baltor."

A bit startled, the boy turned his head to look at his drill instructor. He asked in a loud tone of voice, "Yes, sir?"

As soon as Humonus saw that he and his student gazed at each other eye-to-eye, he said in a caring tone of voice, "I know what it's like to lose someone that you care about—believe me. I also know that I may sound like a hard-ass, but that is because it is my job to toughen you up. I have lost a couple of students in the past that I believed to have potential, but really, they had already given up long before they ever met me."

For the next few seconds, the drill instructor observed in silence not only the sadness, fear, and grief thanks to his student's posture yet the squinting eyebrows and eyes that indicated his student was contemplating his words.

Taking advantage of the silence, Humonus continued, "Baltor, I have two questions for you to ponder, which is in all actuality one question, but answer neither of them now."

After taking a deep breath in through his mouth, he asked, "Are you going to focus on the people that are lost, and shall always remain that way no matter what you do or say? Or are you going to focus upon the people that have hope and are looking for a new and better way no matter what?"

Baltor looked toward the ground in dismay before asking, "Sir, how am I supposed to know who has hope and who doesn't?"

"Your heart will tell you that," Humonus answered. With his index finger and thumb, he gently lifted the boy's chin until they were looking eye-to-eye yet again. He then added, "And also your mind."

"But, sir, you've already told me twice that I knew where I could go should I give up! How can you call that caring?" Baltor dared to ask.

Humonus took a step back, extended his open-palmed hands and arms out widely in front of him, and answered genuinely, "I've known all along that you wouldn't jump into the pit and kill yourself!"

"But what do your feelings tell you about Vakshia?" the boy asked with quite a bit of frustration. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "My heart told me that Vakshia would surely make it as a master thief, and now she's probably dead!"

"Ah," the drill instructor said with an affirming nod to his head. "That is why there must be the defenders, so long as there are the oppressors."

Lowering his voice until it was just a whisper, the boy asked, "So, do you think she was murdered?"

Upon hearing that most-unexpected question, Humonus sucked in a sharp breath while simultaneously raising both eyebrows. Instead of answering the question on that particular breath, he exhaled, breathed in deeply once more, and finally whispered, "It appears that you have a mystery that must be solved, but not now. In my professional opinion, you are not even close to being ready to begin this quest."

Baltor whispered, a bit louder and now with angry tones, "Sir, the longer we wait, the harder it will be to find out the truth. Then if she was murdered, we will never find the killer—"

Along with a wag of his finger, Humonus interrupted in a commanding tone but not with a loud volume, "Silence—do not say another word about this subject until I give you permission, my student. That is an order."

Baltor turned silent, though obviously upset.

The drill instructor said squarely, "This may one day become your little quest, but it is not mine. My quest, my mission, my job, which is how I get paid to live, is to train you—not to try and look for evidence to determine if another student's disappearance was murder, or most likely, suicide."

After giving the boy a bit of time to let this important info sink in, he then said, "After all, most of the pits around the obstacle courses, and throughout all the tunnels, are truly bottomless, so how easy it is to have an accidental suicide. On the other hand, maybe it was an intentional suicide. Who knows?"

Without waiting for an answer, he added, "No matter what, I cannot permit this because the High Council has already concluded that there is _not_ to be an investigation. And the High Council has the _final_ _say-so_ in all things related to the Guild."

He put his right hand on Baltor's right shoulder before saying softly, "Just so you know that I'm sympathetic to your cause, once you've completed your training with me, then go ahead and complete your quest, but I order you not to do it now—you're simply not ready."

The boy remained silent, even though he apparently had wished to speak the whole time.

The drill instructor squeezed his student's shoulder for emphasis. He then said, "I know that I've said _A LOT_ already, but I have one more thing to point out before we get back to training—okay? Nod your head in the affirmative if you've understood all I've said so far."

The boy nodded his head.

Humonus pointed his left index finger directly at Baltor's face—three inches away—and said in just above a whisper, "Good. Let's hypothesize that you decide to disobey my order, become successful in finding Vakshia in the nearby future, discover that someone murdered her, track down the murderer, and try to face him, or her, or them, on your own. Most likely, all I've taught you will go to waste, as you'll become the next missing victim. So do not disobey me, understand? Now you can speak."

The boy's eyes looked with disappointment to the ground, but he dutifully responded, "Yes, sir."

Using his still-extended index finger, Humonus again lifted up Baltor's chin until they were eye-to-eye for the third time. Now sounding sympathetic, he concluded, "Listen—all things will reveal themselves...if Destiny, Fate, and God ordain it."

"Yes, sir," the boy said while holding the gaze firmly with his drill instructor.

A few seconds passed before Humonus let go of Baltor's chin and shoulder. He then took two steps back and crossed his arms.

Upon observing that the student still looked calm and serene, the drill instructor ordered, "Go ahead and take your lunch break, and meet me back here in half an hour." Without pause, he started walking toward the tunnel that led into the fountain room.

Baltor cast his gaze over to the lunch table, noticing that Thesmul was nowhere around there, nor was he anywhere else in the cavern at all.

He made his way over to the table. There, he wolfed down a large lunch that consisted of three loaves of wheat bread and two delicious red oranges, washing it all down with a full mug of water.

By the time that he had finished eating, he took a seat against the wall in the training area, waiting and relaxing. Fifteen minutes later, he saw Humonus coming back, and so the boy stood to his feet.

Upon arrival, the drill instructor began, "Baltor, as I was trying to instruct you right before lunch, every weapon must be nothing more than an extension of your own body. Every attack or defense begins and ends within the confines of your basic stance, regardless of the size of the weapon or weapons you may happen to be carrying."

He pulled the daggers out of his belt. While holding one in each hand with the blade extended out, he said, "From the four stylized punches that I taught you earlier, you can incorporate weapons into your movements just as easily."

He then demonstrated all four of the punches while holding the daggers. Upon completion, he asked, "Do you see what I mean?"

Baltor's eyes squinted in contemplation for a couple of moments before his mouth answered, "Yes, sir."

The drill instructor flipped the daggers around in his hands before extending both handles out to Baltor. He ordered, "Good—now you try them."

After taking the daggers, the boy attempted the four different punches successively with a weapon in each hand.

"Not bad," Humonus informed with a single nod of his head, "but you will need to practice, practice, and practice, especially if you are to become fluidic like water."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now to the defensive rolls while in possession of weapons—hand me back the daggers," the drill instructor ordered.

Baltor clumsily twisted the daggers around until the handles faced out.

The drill instructor took them before teaching, "A strong defense is just as important as a strong offense. You must be extraordinarily careful while practicing your rolls not to let the weapon or weapons touch the ground, or you will lose one or both weapons, and possibly even injure yourself seriously in the process. Simply watch my movements, and you will see what I mean about how to do things right."

He leaped forward, and after ensuring that the daggers were parallel with the ground so that they did not contact, he rolled back onto his feet and assumed the ready stance. The daggers were still in his hands.

He leaped to the right while extending his arms that way, paralleled the daggers with the ground, and rolled back onto his feet. As before, the daggers remained in his hands, and he stood in the ready position.

Next, he fell backward while extending his arms out. Before his hands slapped the ground, he had already paralleled the daggers with the floor, so they did not make contact. He then rolled himself back over onto his feet—in the ready position and with daggers in his hands.

The boy looked on in amazement.

Humonus flipped the daggers around in his hands, handing Baltor the handles. He ordered, "Now you try...roll forward."

Baltor leaped forward and extended his hands out. He tried to keep the daggers from contacting the ground but failed. Though he rolled back onto his feet, he no longer had either weapon.

"Try again."

"Yes, sir!"

For the remainder of the day and the next week to follow during the mornings, the drill instructor made his student practice somersaulting repeatedly, all the while holding onto weapons of all sorts. During the afternoons until late at night, he allowed the boy to practice on his own, attempting to unite these new movements with his other learned skills and going through the obstacle courses. And all the while, he slowly-but-surely got better.

Ever so secretly, in the wee morning hours, while everyone else was asleep, Baltor had begun to investigate the disappearance of Vakshia, whether dead or alive, despite the orders and warnings of Humonus.

Sneaking into the supply room for the very first time, he had found a coiled one-hundred-foot rope in a dust-covered sack. Just as useful, he found a large wood box containing two-dozen torches and some flint.

For no longer than two hours each night, he checked the chasms, pits, and deep gorges around the obstacle courses.

At each spot, he would secure twenty feet of the rope to either a nearby rock or stalagmite, and slide down approximately eighty feet while safely holding the end of a lit torch in his teeth. Once at the end of the rope, he would drop the torch to see where, and if, it would land. For the most part, it simply disappeared into the abyss, thus enshrouding him in utter darkness.

Luck still was not with him even after the first week of diligent searching, even though he had already covered the first three obstacle courses, with no success. During the second week of diligent searching and covering three more courses, he had found a grouping of human bones, but they looked like they had been there for decades, maybe even centuries. By the end of the second week, he slowly began to give up hope.

After all, there was only one more obstacle course—with eight possible spots—that Vakshia could have fallen. Grimly, Baltor reasoned that she probably had not advanced to this stage in the short amount of time that she had been here. He thus decided to explore only one per night, so he would not be as tired during the day.

During the morning times throughout the third week of the boy's search, his drill instructor mostly watched and said very little as his student went through all the various combinations of the basic fighting styles while holding onto a wide variety of training weapons: offensive attacks, defensive blocks, and rolls. After all, Baltor's movements were "flawless" just about every single time.

For this reason, the drill instructor allowed his student to spend his afternoons, evenings, and nights—training on his own. During those early morning hours, Baltor continued to search the holes, gorges, and valleys in the sixth obstacle course for Vakshia, but now it was only one per night as he had earlier decided.

Finally, on the first night of the fourth week of the boy's quest to find his one and only friend, there remained one last deep valley that he knew about and could check. Earlier he promised himself that if he did not find her here tonight, he would have no choice but to give up.

After securing thirty feet of the rope around a solid tube of rock that spanned from floor to ceiling, he rappelled down the smooth slope of the valley. As with each time before, once he reached the bottom of the rope, he dropped the torch and watched it fall—this time, it slid down to the bottom of the valley approximately twenty feet, and what Baltor saw shocked him.

For lying on the ground just barely inside the perimeter of the torch's light, there lay a small body—crumpled and unmoving! Even though the boy's eyes began to flood with tears of grief, something else inside of him raged as his mind strongly suspected that the body below was Vakshia.

But as there was no way for him to drop the distance down to the ground and then climb back up the smooth face of the valley to get back to the rope, he reluctantly climbed his way up to the top.

Untying the rope, he rolled it back up, looped it over his shoulder, and eliminated all footprints before making his way back to the supply room.

As he lay in bed trying to fall to sleep, he resolved to find out for sure the following night after training was over when everybody was asleep. However, sleep eluded him for many hours this night.

The following morning, perhaps a half-hour after training had begun, Humonus only then began to realize that something was bothering his student by the slightly furled expression on his forehead, the dark shadows under his eyes, and most importantly, Baltor was not as eager-and-focused to learn like normal. "Are you okay?"

While unconsciously looking down to the ground, the boy answered, "Yes, sir."

"Don't lie to me," the drill instructor countered.

Baltor looked back up with an even expression before he yawned and then confessed, "Well, maybe I'm just a little tired, is all. Truth of it all is that I didn't sleep so well last night, sir."

The drill instructor's facial expression had relaxed to normal before he responded, "Oh—that hits us all every now and then, but what I'm going to need from you is for you to be fully awake and alert, especially before we recommence with training."

"Yes, sir."

With a shrug and a nod, Humonus asked, "Would you like to take a fifteen-minute break, and perhaps get a drink of water?"

"Yes, sir," the boy answered before heading to the lunch table.

Upon arrival, he poured himself a full mug of water, drinking most of it down in one swoop. With the remaining bit of water still in the mug, he splashed it onto his hands and then onto his face.

He grabbed an orange off the lunch table, peeled it, ate it, then picked up and peeled a banana. While chewing on that, he turned around, ascertaining that Humonus was nowhere in sight.

Just after the boy had made his way back to the weapons rack, all the while looking around, he confirmed his drill instructor wasn't anywhere in the cavern. Therefore, he sat down on the ground and waited.

A minute later, Humonus walked out of the supply room, but he wasn't alone. An old man—who had a long, gray beard and wrinkly skin—hobbled beside him while using a cane. His one-colored outfit consisted of a light-gray skullcap and flowing robes, along with a ton of colorful jewelry, ranging from jeweled rings to dozens of glittery necklaces. The two men spoke together in hushed tones, and thus the boy could not hear their words.

Because of the Baltor's late-night excursions and his borrowing supplies from the supply room without permission, he began to worry that they might have been talking about the missing torches.

Upon seeing the old man pat Humonus on the shoulder and say, "It was so good to see you again after all this time, my young friend," the boy felt relieved.

Humonus replied warmly, "And it was good to see you as well, Master Lupan. By the way, this is my new student, Baltor."

Lupan gave "the up-down look" at Baltor before stating, "You've got the best instructor out of the bunch...you know? After all, he got instructed by the best! You know by who, right? Me!"

With that, both he and Humonus began to laugh with quite a bit of merriment. Not surprisingly, Lupan cackled like an old man.

Baltor did not laugh, nor did he look amused—instead, he bore a very impressed look on his face. After delivering a bow, which is what caused the chuckling to stop, he looked directly into Lupan's eyes and said, "Thank you for revealing that information, Master Lupan. It truly is an honor to meet the drill instructor of my drill instructor, sir!"

Lupan looked over at Humonus before replying, " _Ha!_ This kid's going places."

With a nonchalant wave of the hand, Humonus responded, "Perhaps... But he's still got a whole hell of a long way to go first, sir!" Amusement filled his voice as he made that second statement.

Lupan and Humonus began to laugh heartily at the inside joke.

At the same time, Baltor looked over at his drill instructor in surprise because this man rarely ever cracked a smile. He noticed that the two men only gazed at each other while laughing.

As soon as Lupan's gaze had fallen back onto the boy a few seconds later, he turned serious before he said, "Well, I must be off—errands to run. You gentlemen have a nice day." He then began to walk toward the tunnel that led up to the fountain room.

Humonus pivoted his body until facing his student. He then asked, "Are you fully awake now, Baltor?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent," the drill instructor replied. "Now I want you to take those two short swords off the rack I'm pointing at, and then I want you to show me all rolls, blocks, and strikes...while holding on to them securely the whole time."

"Yes, sir!" After picking up the steel swords, the boy demonstrated all the maneuvers, all the while holding onto the weapons securely. Once the demonstration was over, Baltor looked over at Humonus.

After taking a deep breath, the drill instructor said with a smile, "Well, Baltor, you just passed the last basic test to my level of satisfaction—congratulations! Put those swords away and come back."

"Thank you, sir... Done, sir."

That smile instantly erased as the drill instructor taught, "The time has come for me to begin to train you in the advanced stages of fighting. From here on out things will get very complicated and technical. At first, just like with the basic stages, we will practice solely with hand-to-hand. Later, we will incorporate weapons into the mix! Are you not only ready and awake, yet enthusiastic?"

Sounding excited, the boy said, "Yes, sir!"

"Ok—the best way to best your opponent is by causing him to become unbalanced from his attack, and then to use that attack to your advantage. Throw a slow punch at me, and I'll show and explain to you exactly what I mean."

Baltor proceeded to throw a slow punch with his right hand.

At the same time, Humonus just-as-slowly pivoted his own body ninety degrees until standing on his student's right side. He next grabbed Baltor's fully extended fist with both of his hands before ordering, "Stop moving." The boy did.

"Observe as I ever-so-lightly yank your body the direction you were throwing your punch; that is, until the moment your feet become unbalanced. Then watch as I twist your wrist wide around in front of me until your body becomes forced to the ground and you are defenseless. Now, because you threw a punch with your right fist, I shall twist to my right. Ready?"

"Yes, sir."

The boy found his body slowly forced to the ground; and a second after that, his face commenced to burrow harder and harder into the hard cavern floor, which quickly became a very uncomfortable experience.

Not only did the drill instructor still have a firm grip on Baltor's twisted-up wrist, yet the man still stood on his feet. However, the student was not aware of this trivia because he could only see dirt.

Still, Baltor heard Humonus say, "For the purposes of learning and understanding, you will feel only a tiny sliver of the pain that's involved as I twist your wrist only a fraction of an inch more... Imagine how much worse it would hurt if I twisted but a fraction farther?"

Without waiting for an answer, the drill instructor twisted that wrist that fraction. Because of the agonizing pains that erupted throughout the boy's left arm and shoulder, he yelped aloud!

Though Humonus did not release his grip, he did loosen that grip three fractions. The first fraction caused the agonizing pain to be not as agonizing. The second fraction kept Baltor immobile but in a painless state. The third fraction even allowed him a bit of mobility, just enough to allow him to turn his head around so he could look up at his drill instructor.

Once Humonus noticed that he and Baltor were looking eye-to-eye, he continued with his lesson, "As you can now see, with my other free hand, I can punch you in the head as many times as I want, or kick you in the gut just as many times. Or, as you just experienced, I can simply keep on twisting. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

After the drill instructor had released his grip, he added, "One more thing about this defensive technique—it is effective against both punches, and even hands carrying weapons. So long as you grab and yank the wrist before the moment your opponent finishes his strike!"

As the boy stood back onto his feet, he replied while moving around his stiff arm, "Yes, sir!"

Humonus said, "Now, what I'm about to do is to throw a slow punch at you, and I want you to try the move on me." Slowly, he threw a punch with his left hand.

Baltor twisted his body the ninety degrees until standing on Humonus' left side. Even though he had grabbed his drill instructor's extended wrist with both hands, as well twisted that wrist widely around in front of him with both hands, the man strangely did not end up on the ground.

Moreover, Humonus broke free of the grip before launching a kick that stopped an inch shy of hitting Baltor's gut. A few seconds later, he set his foot back onto the ground.

"What am I doing wrong, sir?"

"The first thing you do after you grab my wrist," the drill instructor answered, "is to lightly yank it, which will cause me to become unbalanced. After all, when your opponent is unbalanced, you can do anything."

After taking a deep breath through just his nose, he ordered, "Let's try that again." Right away, he slowly made his punch with his right hand.

Meanwhile, the boy twisted his body ninety degrees to his drill instructor's right side. He grabbed the wrist with both hands before lightly yanking upon that still-extending fist. He next twisted that wrist widely to the right with both hands until his drill instructor's face had buried itself into the floor, and he was standing on top and in control.

Lying on the ground face down, Humonus commanded, "Stop!"

Baltor did.

The drill instructor ordered, "When I tell you to go ahead, in just a few seconds, slowly twist just a bit more, but only a fraction. As soon as I tap the ground repeatedly with my free hand, then that means that you are to loosen your grip, but do not let go, okay? Go ahead."

"Yes, sir!"

Baltor must have accidentally twisted a fraction or two too much, for Humonus began slapping his hand repeatedly into the ground while howling, " _Owww_ , damn it—let go!"

The boy released his grip right away. "Sorry, sir!"

The drill instructor rose to his feet. While rubbing his sore shoulder, he said with exasperation, "Damn that hurt—I said a fraction!"

"Sorry, sir—I swear I'll only go a fraction next time!"

"Ensure that you do, boy, or I will commence to whooping on you the next time."

Baltor gulped.

Several moments later, the drill instructor stopped rubbing his shoulder that no longer ached, and so he said, "There's a similar technique to the one I just taught you, but this time, you will twist the wrist the other direction with both hands. This action will minimally slam his back, possibly his head, hard onto the ground!"

They spent the next hour slowly going over this second technique over and over again.

Besides these two advanced techniques, Baltor learned one more that morning, which consisted of grabbing and holding the opponent's thumb in a certain way using both hands like a joystick. When done correctly, the opponent's body had no choice but to roll around whichever direction the thumb was jerked. Baltor had been quite amused by this last technique, except when it was done on him as it did hurt, especially the more he tried to resist.

Before lunch, the drill instructor promised that he had dozens of advanced techniques to teach in the coming weeks ahead; but instead of teaching his student any more after lunch, they spent the rest of the day practicing just the first three techniques and always in slow motion.

At the end of the day, he commended his student with, "Good job today."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Tomorrow morning, I have some finger, hand, and wrist stretches that I'm going teach you, and from then on, you will be incorporating these movements into your morning routine, but only on an every-other-day basis. These exercises will help you to effectively utilize any advanced technique against your quickest and-or strongest of opponents. Furthermore, they will improve your fighting skills while using weapons."

After taking a deep breath, he asked, "Why is the wrist just as important as the hand, you may be asking? Because the hand simply clutches the weapon—the wrist guides its direction and movement!"

"Yes, sir!"

Humonus said, "Oh—one last thing before I let you go for the day. Once you have finished learning all of the advanced techniques I have to teach, I will then teach you the final and hardest step—learning how to reunite your body as a whole. How much time all this takes is entirely up to you."

"Yes, sir!"

"Dismissed."

In the wee hours of the morning, Baltor tiptoed out of the barracks, heading for the supply alcove. The only other usable item in this room was another coiled fifty-foot rope hidden in an old, dusty sack sitting behind a small stalagmite. He did find it surprising that he hadn't noticed that sack before, but then again, supplies came and went.

Wasting no time, he tied the one-hundred-foot rope and the fifty-foot rope together with several tight knots until secure, placing the rope into the bag. After grabbing an unlit torch and a piece of flint, he placed both items into the bag before tying the bag's end with a knot and slinging it over his right shoulder.

Before exiting the supply room, he scanned his horizons to make sure the coast was clear—at least for now it was. For a few seconds he pondered grabbing one of the weapons off the rack, but in the end, he changed his mind; after all, any missing weapon would certainly draw suspicion and raise the alarm.

He ran as fast as he could toward the final obstacle course; and once there, went through the obstacle course until arriving at the valley where the body laid. Once at his destination, he did as the night before by wrapping the rope around the same spot, lighting one end of the torch, placing the other end in his mouth, and rappelling down. This time, he made it to the bottom of the valley and with about thirty feet of rope to spare.

He walked over to the child-sized body that rested in the fetal position and turned the body over. His mouth dropped open in aghast—it was indeed Vakshia.

After scrutinizing the body, he saw only one blood stain, but with many gashes spread out all across the front of her shirt. He lifted the blood-crackling shirt up, discovering dozens of puncture holes in her chest and stomach by something needle-thin and razor-sharp. In ever-growing horror and sadness, he thought, _Vakshia did not commit suicide...someone murdered her!_

Once he had overcome the shock—perhaps minutes later—he decided that he had no choice but to take the body now and let the Guild decide what to do next in order to find the killer, so that justice could be served.

Therefore, he walked back over to the rope, dragging it over to the body. After tying the rope securely around her body, he climbed his way up to the top. Once there, he began to pull up the rope.

He had perhaps pulled the body about three-quarters of the way up when he heard an all-too-familiar boy's voice snarl, "I thought that you've been acting a bit funny as of late, Baltor! I mean, besides being a pathetic little worm, now I know why."

Baltor's head turned to look over, in which he noticed that Thesmul had just entered the perimeter of the torch's light.

With a bit of annoyance to his voice, Baltor asked, "Thesmul, hey...how's it going buddy? Wait—what? What are you talking about? I'm just practicing some physical strength exercises—that's all."

"Oh yeah," Thesmul asked, now about a dozen feet away but drawing closer. "What kind of weights you using?"

Once Baltor saw the glint of steel reflected from the torch's light, he had no choice but to let go of the rope and turn to face his new opponent before it was too late.

Without any further delay, Thesmul leaped toward his enemy with a snarl and with stiletto already coming down in a strike—Baltor somersaulted to his left, just barely evading the attack!

Instead of waiting for his opponent to get another attack, Baltor leaped low at his opponent—his left shoulder smashed hard into the back of Thesmul's knees. This action caused both of the boys to crash into the ground, and for the stiletto to fly out and land at the edge of the torch's light.

Within a foot of the cliff's edge, the two boys proceeded to wrestle on the ground, each vying for the upper position or the stiletto.

Although Baltor knew about a dozen or so fewer advanced techniques than Thesmul, the elder boy had been training for a year-and-a-half longer, as well was he much stronger, taller, and about forty pounds heavier!

Nearly thirty seconds of combat time had passed before Thesmul was on top, punching hard and repeatedly—although he had taken quite a few hard hits himself, especially the one in his left eye that was already black, blue, and very puffy.

At first, Baltor blocked most of the hits that were coming in, but it did not take long before Thesmul's punches finally began making full contact.

Blood steadily poured from Baltor's nostrils and lips as well did he have two bruised eyes; only the right eye could see as the left had swollen shut.

A few hits later, Thesmul stopped punching, leaned back, clasped both fists together, and slammed them down into his opponent's chest, even knowing that his opponent was down for the count—only then did he leap for the stiletto. Of course, Baltor could only lie there on the ground and bleed.

After Thesmul had swiped up his stiletto, he turned around. While twirling it expertly between his hands, he asked, "You want to know what happened to Vakshia? I'll tell you. I promised her that I would help her succeed in this place. I even helped her all the way up to this point, but when I tried to have my way with her, she refused. At first, I was startled, but then I became upset and then angry. Regardless, she was a good girl until the end—except for the fact that she fought me the whole way through. Of course I couldn't have her report me, so."

He made several sharp and quick jabs downward with the stiletto, but then he stopped. With a cluck of his tongue and a shake of his head, he added, "I'm sorry to say, but there truly is no honor amongst thieves!" He began to laugh sadistically at his little joke.

His little speech had thankfully given Baltor somewhat of a chance to recover his wits. Though he had only heard the last half of it, his anger turned to rage. Slowly and unsteadily, he rose to his feet and assumed the basic ready position.

This caused Thesmul to laugh even harder and evilly. Through his laughter, he asked, "Do you— _ha ha_ —do you want some more of me— _ha ha_ —you pathetic worm? By the way, did you know that with all that blood all over you, you really do look like a worm? _Ha ha!_ "

Baltor remained silent.

No longer laughing, Thesmul began to approach his opponent ever so slowly while threatening, "I've got a little experiment I'm going to perform on you. I'm going to chop you into little pieces, beginning with your fingers and ending with your heart! We shall soon find out whether you, just like a worm, can regenerate."

Baltor said nothing, only waited.

Thesmul leaped at his opponent with a mighty roar and with stiletto jabbing in for the kill!

Precisely at the right moment, Baltor fell backward, slapping his hands hard into the ground in order to do a reverse roll, propping his legs and knees tightly into his chest, but this time he did not yet push himself back onto his feet using his arms. Thankfully, the stiletto barely missed by an eighth of an inch, but now Thesmul was in the process of falling on top.

The split-second Thesmul's chest made contact with his opponent's feet, Baltor only then propelled his whole body backward using all the strength in his back muscles, abdominals, arms, and hands, while extending his legs and feet straight out and with all the power that he had. These simultaneous motions caused Thesmul to propel back up into the air, and to begin screaming as he flew nearly a half-dozen feet beyond the edge of the valley.

Unfortunately, Baltor also felt nothing underneath him, except for thin air. Without pause, he reached out and forward with both hands. Luck was with him yet again, as his eight fingers barely clutched onto the edge of the cliff.

Seconds later, Thesmul's echoing screams stopped—yet Baltor clung there for dear life.

Several times already, he had tried to dig his feet into the cliff face, yet always without success—the rock was far too smooth.

He then tried to pull himself up using his feet and fingers. Not only were his hands already too weak to pull him up, yet they were weakening even further with every passing moment—he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

Shortly before the last remaining bit of strength in his hands was gone, he began to accept the possibility that he would be falling to his death and joining Vakshia in the afterlife, as well his parents—until suddenly, an idea sprang to mind that he immediately put into practice.

Thanks to all of his leg stretching and exercises, he barely managed to stretch his left leg over the edge of the cliff, hooking the tips of his toes behind a small stalagmite. Gripping his fingers tighter into the cliff's edge, he used all of his leg strength to pull the rest of his body back onto solid ground.

For an unknown amount of time, Baltor simply lay there too weak-and-tired to move. When he found that his strength had begun to return, he slowly stood onto his feet. He then began the horribly painful process, both physically and emotionally, of pulling Vakshia's body up.

Upon completion of this task several minutes later, he untied the rope, hoisted her body upon his shoulders, draped his right arm around her midsection, and bent down to pick up the torch with his left hand. He then began to make his way back.

It took him an agonizingly long time, particularly since his muscles were dog-tired and sore. Many-a-times his feet stumbled, but only once did he fall.

Once he had returned to the training cavern, he was so beyond the point of exhaustion that he did not even fathom that the other students and instructors had stopped in their training. Everybody focused on Baltor as well the mutilated body draped over his shoulders, but nobody had come over to help, nor did anybody say a word.

A few steps later, the boy's legs buckled, his knees crashed into the ground, and he collapsed forward to the ground face-first—her body now lay on top of his upper body and head.

A female drill instructor happened to be the first to arrive at the scene only a few seconds later. She moved Vakshia's body to the side, instantly noticing that the girl had been dead for quite a while. She next flipped Baltor's body over, noting after a few seconds of staring at him that he was still breathing, but no longer conscious.

## CHAPTER V

An unknown amount of time later, Baltor regained consciousness, already wondering why his head ached so badly. He had no doubt that he was lying in bed with a blanket wrapped around him. He tried to open his eyes and assume a sitting position, unsuccessfully. The throbbing pains in his head multiplied—he groaned in agony!

A strange woman's voice soothed, "Relax—you need to rest."

Once most of that pain had dissipated but not all of it, he finally asked, "Where am I?"

"You are in the Guild's nursing ward at the moment."

"What happened?"

"We are not exactly sure—we have been waiting for you to wake up to tell us that."

Something about that voice only now began to sound vaguely familiar to him, though he could not recall her image or name, so he asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Mistress Bayema," she introduced. "I was the one who first brought Vakshia to the Guild."

Once he heard Vakshia's name, many painful memories immediately began to surface. Not just the memories of Vakshia and Thesmul, but ones more distant like his parents' murders. With a deep sigh that physically hurt his chest, Baltor found tears pouring through his swollen-shut eyelids.

" _Shhh_ ," Bayema hushed with a gentle voice. "Relax...your trial will not begin before the High Council until you've fully healed..."

"That," he said, "may take many months, if not years."

She paused for a few seconds before stating, "Perhaps, but you're resilient, meaning tough. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Why were you so interested in Vakshia?"

After sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, he took another deep breath before answering, "She...she was the only other student that was ever nice to me, my Mistress."

"I see," Bayema replied thoughtfully.

A few moments passed before he heard the sounds of silk sliding. He then heard her say, "For now, relax and recuperate. I will be back soon."

He asked, "Before you go, I have one question that I'd like to ask you."

"Of course."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days," Bayema answered. "Your drill instructor has been here most of that time, patiently waiting by your side for you to wake up. He had to go to an important meeting about an hour ago, so I cannot say when he will be back. So just relax and get some sleep, Baltor."

He heard a door close and then he was left alone.

Over the course of the next several days, he slept most of the time while his body recuperated. It was during one of those occasions that he happened to be conscious—though still temporarily blind—he had heard the door to his room open, and then he heard someone quietly sit down in a chair near the bed. Because this person said nothing to him, he said nothing back. During the times that he slept, he had many strange dreams.

Finally came the time when he could open his eyes into tiny slits, in which his body hurt a whole lot less than it did. Inside this decent-sized room with several windows looking outside yet only one door, there were twelve beds, in which he was the only person residing here in one of the beds. On the far side were six metallic operating tables with drawers underneath—probably filled with medical tools, supplies, bandages, etc.

One such time shortly after he had just awoken from a nap, he observed Humonus enter the room.

His drill instructor smiled brightly upon seeing the boy awake before he said, "Hey there, champ! How are you feeling?"

"A little better, sir," Baltor answered with a weak smile.

"Good, good," Humonus said and without the smile leaving his face. Sitting in the nearest chair to Baltor's bed, he leaned forward, and added, "I'm glad to hear it."

Baltor asked, "How are you, sir?"

"Not bad, not bad...I'm just glad to see that you're looking a whole hell of a lot better!"

"How bad did I look?"

No longer smiling, Humonus shook his head a few times before confessing, "Whew... Let me put it this way—when I first came into work almost four days ago and saw you, I didn't think you were going to make it. Your body was beaten to a pulp, your face was redder than a beet from all the blood splattered everywhere, and you wouldn't wake up even when we splashed cold water on your face!"

Baltor chuckled.

The drill instructor did not laugh. Instead, he asked without an ounce of humor, "You know what's going to happen to you, right?"

Even though the boy suddenly found himself getting very nervous, he still asked, "What, sir?"

"There will be a formal inquiry into the matter," Humonus said, "and you will have to report the entire incident, from day one, before the High Council.

He gave the boy about ten seconds to contemplate before he added, "On the bright side of things, we are not only expert thieves, but we are just-as-good investigators, and the Guild has already begun the investigation. That is a part of what makes a good thief, really. Anyway, to keep to the point, here is what some of us speculate." He then explained the events of that night in relatively precise detail.

"That is precisely what happened," Baltor confirmed while nodding.

After another short pause, a look of irritation crossed Humonus' face as he added, "There is one thing that I am severely peed off at you about."

"What's that, sir?"

"You explicitly disobeyed my orders by continuing your own investigation into Vakshia's disappearance. Just so you know...you made me look as if I have absolutely no control over my student! You're lucky I wasn't fired, or worse," Humonus said with ruffled feathers.

"Sir, please accept my apologies and my fullest assurances that I will never disobey your orders again," Baltor said sincerely.

After considering the apology, Humonus sighed, "Apologies and assurances accepted this time, I guess."

"Thank you, sir," Baltor said in relief. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Once I've graduated all my training, I have decided that I am going to find the culprits that murdered my parents and exact justice. I also wish to state for the record that though I have learned many valuable lessons from you, there is one that I am most appreciative of, sir!"

"What's that?"

"I have learned how to care for others, and for that, I wish to thank you, sir."

Humonus nodded several times before saying, "I'm glad to know that I've been of service." After rising to his feet, he revealed, "Just so that you can mentally prepare, your nurse has informed me that you will be ready for the inquiry tomorrow, in which I'm not sure the exact time it will be held yet. I'm going to let you get your rest now—besides, I've some errands that I must finish."

He walked toward the door, opened it, stepped through, and was just about to shut it closed, but he stopped. A few seconds passed before he turned around and stated, "Oh, just so you know, Thesmul was a favorite amongst many of the students and instructors. Some believed him to have the potentials and qualities as a future Chief... And, by the way, several of the High Council members suspect, based from your many nightly disappearances, that maybe it was you who raped and murdered Vakshia and that later you returned to finish the job, but that Thesmul caught _you_ in the act. After all, no one is for sure who first held the weapon."

While Humonus spoke, he couldn't help but notice the ever-increasing look of shock and horror on the boy's face. Just before closing the door behind him, he promised, "Make sure you have your facts all put together. If you don't and the High Council disbelieves your story in any way, shape or form—expulsion from the Guild may be the least of your worries. As for me, I believe your story and your innocence."

"Thank you, sir."

The door closed and Baltor remained alone to heal and to contemplate.

The following morning about seven, Humonus opened the door while carrying a duffel bag. "Good morning, Baltor."

"Good morning, sir."

The drill instructor set the bag down onto the bed before stating, "The time has come for us to leave. Inside the bag are some hand-me-downs. Get dressed quickly, so that we can get some hot chow from the mess hall before we go before the High Council. Do you feel ready and competent?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent, Baltor, I'll wait for you outside," Humonus replied with a nod. Exiting the room, he closed the door behind him.

Baltor opened the bag. In under a half-minute, he was already dressed in clean underwear and socks, a gray tunic, brown pants, and an old pair of tan boots. Everything fit perfectly as if tailored for him specifically.

Once dressed, he opened the door and exited the room.

Humonus leaned lightly against the wall in a long majestic hallway that had fourteen stylish doors in total—six on the far side, six on his side, and two at each of the far ends.

The boy approached his drill instructor.

With another nod, Humonus gave a gesture to follow with one hand before ordering, "Follow me." Turning to his right, he walked toward the door at the far end of the hallway. Upon arrival, he opened it before entering another grand corridor. Three doors down on the right-hand side, Humonus opened it before gesturing for Baltor to enter.

This was not just any mess hall, but more like a fancy restaurant—indeed, this place was both beautiful and elegant. The dining room contained twenty large round tables with eight plush seats around each table—very classy people filled a little more than half of those seats. Even the waiters wore formal attire.

The boy was at first very self-conscious about the clothes he wore, but then he realized that his drill instructor wore casual clothes as well.

Once the delicious food had arrived only a minute later that Humonus must have preordered—scrambled eggs, sausage links, toast, and fruit juice—they feasted.

After breakfast, the drill instructor led the way back into the hallway, and down two more hallways. As the boy followed, he presumed that the door at the end of this third hallway would lead to still another one, but he was mistaken.

Humonus opened this door, gestured for the boy to enter first, and then closed the door behind them both.

Baltor discovered—with surprise—that this was no hallway but a spectacular throne room.

The walls were draped with red velvet that had paintings of all sizes and types hanging all over; in the chamber's center were two rows of twelve golden thrones placed in a semi-circle. A person sat in every seat, but no one wore a crown, and no one spoke—eighteen males and six females. Perhaps twenty feet in front of all these thrones, there sat a plain wooden chair. The only sources of light came from four crystal chandeliers filled with lots of burning candles.

Humonus had once again taken the lead, leading Baltor to the empty seat. Once there, he beckoned with his hand for the boy to sit in the chair. The drill instructor then stood behind his student and waited in silence.

Baltor continued glancing through the crowd of onlookers. The only three people he recognized were Bayema at the far-left end of the first row, Lydia next to her, and Lupan behind Lydia. Today, Lupan wore black robes and skullcap, and of course all his colorful jewelry.

Baltor was very pleased to see them all here, especially Lydia.

Humonus began, "Masters and Mistresses of the High Council, as you know, my name is Humonus. I have been a drill instructor here at the Guild for six years—and a member for fifteen. I am the defendant's instructor. Wasting no more of your valuable time, I shall now introduce the defendant who will present his side of the story. His name is Baltor."

Baltor felt all eyes in the room on him—his cheeks immediately flushed and his throat became constricted. After clearing his throat several times, he finally began, "Masters and..."

He found that he had to swallow the phlegm in his throat before he could continue with his defense, "Mistresses of the High Council, my name is Baltor. I have been a student for, well I don't really know for how long, but for quite some time..."

He had to take a full breath before relaying everything that happened with precise detail, from his encounter with Vakshia at the lunch table to the time she abruptly disappeared—it took about three minutes to reveal all of this information. He then confessed that he had disobeyed his drill instructor by seeking out Vakshia's whereabouts around all of the obstacle courses late at night, and for his disobedience, he apologized.

Before anyone else could think to say a word, he threw his index finger up into the air and added, "For more than a month, I didn't find anything; that is, until the night before I fought with Thesmul. It was on that night that I had dropped a torch down the valley on the sixth course and discovered a small, unmoving body. Though I didn't know whose body, I knew I had to find out, but my rope was too short."

He pointed two fingers up before saying, "The next night, I took another rope, secured it to my other one, and then headed back to the valley. After I had reached the bottom of the valley, I discovered with sadness and horror that it was indeed Vakshia. Now my initial plan was to bring the body back for the Guild to investigate, so I tied her body to the rope, climbed my way back up, and began pulling her body up. That was when Thesmul arrived with a stiletto in hand, in which I realized that my life was in grave danger! I had no choice but to drop the rope and roll backward to avoid his slash. When I leaped forward and collided with him, the stiletto flew out of his hand..."

Now with even more excitement in his voice, he said, "For the next minute-or-so we wrestled, but then he got the better hand and began to beat the hell out of me! Once he thought I was beaten senseless, he picked up the stiletto while confessing to me that he had raped and killed Vakshia for refusing his advances!"

Immediately came the feverish whispers of the council members. Because of the noise, he continued his testimony even louder, "I got so angry hearing those words—I stood back up! It was then that Thesmul threatened to cut me into little pieces like a little worm, leaping at me with full intentions to do so! Then, just as my instructor taught me, I turned my defense into an offense, and I kicked him over the edge of the cliff face and into the valley! From the roll, I went over the cliff myself, but thankfully, I managed to grab onto the cliff's edge by my fingers and get myself back on solid ground! Sometime after, though I don't know how long, I pulled Vakshia's body back up and carried her back to the training area! That's what happened from beginning to end, I swear to it!"

Perhaps ten seconds after he had finished speaking, several of the High Council members commenced to mutter to each in angry tones. Inevitably, one man's voice erupted from amongst the others, "Until you killed Thesmul, which you just confessed to by your own words, he had a very promising future here in the Guild. Do you have any evidence or witnesses who can prove that Thesmul's guilty of raping and murdering Vakshia?"

"No, but I swear on my honor my words are one hundred percent accurate, in that Thesmul's guilty as sin," Baltor immediately shot back.

The man, after a short pause, asked, "Do you have any proof at all that you're innocent of raping and murdering Vakshia?"

Aghast, Baltor answered the question with his own, "Why would I bring her body back to the training area if I was guilty? If guilty, I would have just left her there, or dumped her body down an even deeper gorge."

Lupan stood up, looked over at the man on the other side, and hollered over, "Do you have any proof that Thesmul's guilty?"

The man replied, "No, I don't, Master Lupan. I am trying to figure out all the facts. I have known Thesmul for quite some time, and I don't think it is possible for him to have done anything to Vakshia! Thesmul was a kind-hearted lad."

Baltor could not hold back his own anger as he yelled, "He was a bully to most of us! What I'd like to know is why you people didn't bother to investigate her disappearance in the first place? And I mean _INVESTIGATE_ like I did."

Outraged, the man stood up before yelling back, "How dare you! We ask the questions here—it shall be you who answers! Other than that, keep your mouth shut, boy."

At that, Lydia stood up and defended, "Master Salmot, Baltor has a point. Why didn't the High Council do a thorough investigation into her disappearance as soon as it was known?" Without waiting for his answer, she said, "Baltor should be declared a hero for the risks he took and overcame."

"The High Council has many affairs to attend to, much less checking into the disappearance of any beginning students—you know this to be quite true, Mistress Lydia," Salmot answered. "But not just in my opinion alone, Baltor deliberately tampered with the scene to make it appear as if Thesmul was the aggressor, rapist, and murderer."

At this, most of the council members stood up and began arguing amongst each other, especially between Lydia and Salmot. One voice, a feminine one, spoke out above the din.

The very second she spoke, the din quieted, "We should re-examine the area carefully and deliberate all the evidence in private, without having this student present. The Guild, our Shangri-La, has been in existence for nearly five hundred years! However, if you take a close look at us now during this trial, you will agree that we all have been acting like naughty schoolchildren. I say we deliberate in private without the defendant. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said many voices in unison.

"Drill Instructor Humonus, before you escort Baltor out of here, I have one more question for you," she said.

Humonus asked, "Yes, my Mistress?"

She asked, "What is your opinion? Do you think Baltor's guilty?"

"My Mistress...no, I do not believe he's guilty but innocent."

"Very well. Keep him under watch in suite twenty-two until we have made our final decision. Then we shall call upon you again."

He bowed before replying, "Yes, my Mistress." He rose from the bow, gesturing for the boy to proceed out the door.

After closing the door behind him, Humonus escorted Baltor to the suite just down the hall.

This tastefully decorated suite contained two full-sized beds, a couch, several chairs, a coffee table, and a wide assortment of books or board games sitting on the shelves.

Once inside with the door closed, Baltor asked, "So what do you think will happen now, sir?"

"I don't know," Humonus replied truthfully, "but I've never seen the High Council so heated up with one another." After sniffing the air for a half-second, he added, "Well...let's not worry about that now. Instead, let's check out some of these games."

Three days passed while the two waited in the suite. Although they were both nervous about the verdict, they kept themselves entertained. Besides eating in the mess hall, they slept, or had fun playing games; training was out of the question since Baltor's body was still bruised. The game played most often was a strategic game called "Voo-span" (thanks to Humonus' instruction), similar to four-dimensional chess. Finally, the time came at seven p.m. when the High Council sent a messenger to retrieve them.

As before, the drill instructor led the boy to his chair and stood behind him.

Baltor sat down, nervously waiting on his verdict.

The mistress that had previously silenced the argument spoke only a few seconds later, "Though this decision was not easy to come by, it is in the rulings of the High Council that you are innocent. The Guild owes you a debt of gratitude for services rendered. Tomorrow morning, you shall recommence with your training. That is all."

Baltor breathed a deep sigh of relief.

The High Council stood up from their seats and began to disperse—only four people remained in the room, Lydia, Bayema, Humonus, and Baltor.

Bayema spoke first, "I would personally like to thank you, Baltor, and I'm sure that Vakshia would have thanked you too. Best of luck with your training!"

"Thank you, my Mistress," Baltor responded with a bow.

Bayema left.

Lydia smiled from ear-to-ear before exclaiming, "Baltor, you truly are a brave soul! We need more people like you in the Guild. I knew that I was right when my heart first led me to you. Oh, just to let you know, there is a reason you haven't seen me for a long time—it's because I found my way to my hometown and let my parents know that I'm still alive and well. Take care, Baltor."

"Thank you, my Mistress! You too."

Lydia turned to Humonus and ordered, "Take good care of him, Drill Instructor, as you always have."

"Yes, my Mistress," Humonus answered before nodding his head one time. He turned to his pupil and ordered, "Follow me, Baltor."

"Yes, sir." He bowed one final time to Lydia before following his drill instructor to their next destination.

## CHAPTER VI

The drill instructor led the way through a maze of hallways until arriving at the fountain room. Along the way, the boy silently remarked how large this palace really was.

Once Humonus had twisted the emerald, and the trapdoor opened, he descended the steps and headed for their training area. Baltor followed.

As soon as they arrived at their destination, they proceeded with their stretching exercises. Ten minutes later, the drill instructor said, "Now, we shall go over those wrist stretches that I was about to teach you before your recent event. As I said before, perform these stretches every other day, and you will ultimately develop wrist control. Perhaps this afternoon, I will begin teaching you how to wrestle. For now, watch me carefully." After explaining and demonstrating the wrist stretches, he had his student perform them.

Humonus then pulled two wooden sabers from the weapons rack before saying, "Now, I want you to observe some of my attacks which are based entirely upon wrist control."

Over the next minute, without having moved the trunk of his body even one inch, his sabers flew in a multitude of directions that seemed to combine both attacks and defenses. Baltor watched in awe.

After completing the demonstration, the drill instructor explained, "As you can see, my body did not move except for my wrists, arms, and shoulders. My shoulders and arms only followed the commands of my wrists—wrist control. Now you try it."

With a flick of his wrists, the drill instructor flipped both sabers through the air and caught them in his hands by the sides of the blades. He then extended the handles out for his student to take.

Baltor gripped the handles and performed a left-face before attempting the feat—he was successful for about three seconds before the sabers clanked together and fell to the ground.

"Try again," Humonus stated evenly.

For the remainder of that week and the following two weeks, Baltor practiced and mastered wrist control during the mornings; in the afternoons, he learned the basics of wrestling.

The week following, on Charday, two days after Moonday, he finished performing all his stretching exercises on his own at the training area.

Humonus greeted him at the weapons rack with a "Good morning, Baltor."

"Good morning, sir!"

The drill instructor said, "From here on out, and this is my final lesson for you. We shall begin to incorporate each of the individual techniques and skills that you have learned, reunite your body back as one, and combine them all with the final element of speed."

"Yes, sir!"

"After you have mastered all of this, and we both feel that you are ready, you will have to go through a test with graders—it's an obstacle course. If you pass this test, you will be elevated to Phase Three. If you should fail, you will most likely be dead, as the dangers are deadly."

"Yes, sir. Sir?"

"Yes, Baltor."

"What does this test consist of, sir?"

The drill instructor revealed for the very first time, "There is another obstacle course that lies far beneath us. It is not unlike the other obstacle courses you have already gone through; ropes that you must cross and walls that you must climb. However, all of the swinging bags have sharp spikes poking out of them. There are moving straw dummies that will strike at you with real swords, which you must take out with the skills you have learned. There will also be professional archers who will be aiming for your heart or head...and, by the way, there is a time limit in which to complete it. Oh, and finally, yet most importantly, you will go through it all...blindfolded."

As Humonus explained this, he noted an increasing look of worry cross his student's face, especially when he came to the final part. Because of this, he added consolingly, "Relax, Baltor. Until both you and I feel competent, you won't be taking the final test. I am confident that when you are finally ready, you will pass with flying colors."

After Baltor's facial expression had relaxed, he asked, "One more question, sir?"

"Yes?"

"If I am blindfolded, how will I know when I must jump up to a rope, dodge a spike-filled bag, evade an arrow, or even attack armed dummies, sir?"

"Everything in life, whether a test or for real, always contains signs," Humonus answered. "Once your body has become reunited, your senses will tell you how to interpret those signs, what to do, and when to do it."

"Yes, sir!"

Three additional months passed as Baltor honed and perfected his skills, including learning how to wrestle like a pro, until his body finally acted as one and with proficient speed. During this time frame, he only saw Lydia twice, and both of those visits were terribly short in his opinion. He now recognized that the strange feelings for what they were...he was "in love" with her. He wanted to see her more upon this realization, but he also realized that it would rarely happen, so he kept his focus on his training.

Finally, the morning came when he asked his drill instructor, "Sir?"

"Yes, Baltor."

"I feel that I am ready for the final test."

Humonus' cryptic response happened to be, "What a coincidence."

"Why is that, sir?"

"Because last night, I swear that I came to that same conclusion!"

Baltor asked with surprise, "Really, sir?"

"Yes," the drill instructor confirmed, "I did. Still, I would like you to practice with me for just one more week, just to be on the safe side."

"Yes, sir!"

"Tonight, I will inform the High Council that you shall be ready to take the test next week on Harrnsday."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now, just to properly motivate you, Baltor—I will tell you what Phase Three is like," the drill instructor promised. After taking a deep breath, he explained, "Phase three is called Education. You may take as many classes for as long as you wish, and as many subjects as you can handle. Just so that you know, other instructors will be teaching these courses to you but not me. Depending on your interests, you can always choose to advance to Phase Four without ever stopping Phase Three."

He gave the boy a few moments to digest this information before adding, "Certainly all thieves take the classes that pertain to thieving, like picking pockets, disarming booby traps, and unlocking locks—they feel these to be the most important, especially for acquiring treasure and wealth."

He released a deep sigh before saying, "Unfortunately, most thieves significantly underestimate the treasure and wealth that comes from other basic courses like reading, writing, and arithmetic to advanced courses like learning foreign cultures, customs, and languages. It is in my opinion that all of these subjects are equally important, as I still take classes to this day. Have you understood everything I've said so far?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. During your free periods, you will be allowed to continue your physical training down here, and you will be authorized to roam the streets on your own. Whether you wish to stay in the barracks or eventually attain a place of your own is your choice, but you must never forget the vows you took when you first came here, especially after I show you the secret location of the underground latch. And that's Phase Three in a nutshell. Any questions?"

A dozen questions instantly popped into the student's mind, ranging from what arithmetic was, to what Phase Four consisted of, to how many grades there were in total. Yet he also realized that he needed to pass his current stage first. Therefore, he responded, "Not right now, sir!"

With a nod, Humonus said, "For now, let us continue training."

Over the next week, they trained longer and harder than they had ever done before, but by now, these elongated sessions had no effect on Baltor's energy.

The night before testing day, he went to bed without being nervous in the slightest. But when morning came, he found himself extraordinarily nervous—his adrenaline glands rushed like there was no tomorrow, perhaps literally!

After eating a hearty breakfast, he waited anxiously for his drill instructor to arrive at their training area while performing all his routine stretching exercises. The exercises did nothing to abate his nerves.

Just as he was doing his final stretch, Humonus arrived.

The drill instructor greeted, "Good morning, Baltor. Are you ready to take your test?"

"Sir, to be honest with you, I thought I was, but now I'm not so sure."

With a look of understanding, Humonus replied, "Baltor, that's just called nervousness. In any intense situation, nerves will erupt, and if uncontrolled, you will feel weak and helpless. But once you learn how to control it, it will be your greatest ally, ever! Now, take a couple of deep breaths."

The boy did as ordered, discovering that his nervousness began to lessen though it did not altogether disappear. "Sir, if I don't make it, then I'd like to tell you that I'm very appreciative of everything that you've—"

Humonus interrupted Baltor not with words, but with these actions. The drill instructor placed both hands squarely upon the boy's shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes for about five seconds. He then said emphatically, "Baltor, you must never think like that ever again! You are trained! You will survive! You will succeed! Take a couple more deep breaths." He placed his hands at his sides.

Baltor took a few deep breaths, feeling his nerves relax with every breath. On the third, he found himself relaxed and ready—therefore, he replied, "Lead the way, sir!"

With a nod and a small smile, Humonus ordered, "Follow me." He led his student through several unlit tunnels that wound themselves deeper and deeper underground.

About ten minutes later, they entered a cavern that was twice the size of the training area.

The first thing Baltor noticed was the metal bleachers sitting on the ground to his left, already filled with a large group of onlookers—approximately seventy—pleasantly chatting with one another.

His eyes then scanned the room, noting a dug-in path that led through a myriad of obstacles from ropes, ladders, walls, bottomless pits, chasms, spiked bags, and sword-wielding straw-dummies that were held taut by a thin rope.

Standing behind each dummy and out of harm's way was a man or a woman armed with a dagger ready to cut the ropes. He noticed that at random areas, archers stood with an arrow already hooked in their bow and he found himself becoming nervous again.

Humonus allowed his student a brief minute to look at the area, and then he said, "Follow me." He led the way up to the beginning of the dug-in path, stopped, and turned around to face his pupil.

Pulling a blindfold from his pocket, he said in a normal tone of voice, "Before I blindfold you, Baltor, I shall give you one last minute to scan your horizons."

With a frightened whisper, the boy said, "Sir, this is a crazy-as-hell obstacle course, and I don't know if I can do it blind—"

The drill instructor interrupted, "Stop thinking about the things you can't do...and start doing the things you can. I know that you can do this, but you must have no doubts. Now, close your eyes and keep them closed, and then take some deep breaths. In through the nose...out through the mouth."

About a half-minute later, Baltor answered with confidence, "I feel better, sir. I know that I can do this now!"

Now with a loud and commanding voice, Humonus ordered, "Good—now open your eyes and scan your horizons!" His voice immediately silenced the entire crowd of onlookers.

After sucking in one last deep breath, Baltor opened his eyes and scanned the path, from the first obstacle to the very end, as well everything else in between.

Strangely, everything he had to do on the course immediately became apparent to him, though his nerves remained quite a bit tense.

Finally, the boy's gaze finally rested upon his drill instructor. With a nod, he said, "I'm ready, sir."

"Excellent. I'll see you when you finish."

The drill instructor blindfolded his student, walked to the bleachers, and took a seat in the front row.

It felt to Baltor that an eternity had passed before he heard the word... "Go!"

Without sight, he proceeded to run as fast as he could, recalling that his first obstacle was a huge, circular, bottomless pit with a rope that he had to swing across to get to the other side.

He leaped, his hands deftly finding the rope—and he grabbed it. The momentum of the line swung him to the other side. Then he let go, continuing to run ahead at top speed.

The second obstacle course was a one-hundred-foot-tall wall that he had to climb; however, just as he began to near the wall, he heard a whooshing sound.

He somersaulted forward, barely evading an arrow by mere inches, before leaping up and forward, as his memory recalled. Again, his instincts were right on—he latched onto the wall and quickly scaled his way up.

Upon reaching the top, and without any more arrows shot at him yet, he remembered that the path veered up and to the left. He also recalled that up here, it was possible for the archers to hit him.

Confirming this theory right away, he heard two whooshing sounds coming at him back to back, and he rolled forward, evading them one right after the other—they missed him by mere inches.

A few in the crowd had only now begun to clap and cheer. Paying them no heed, he rose to his feet and sped ahead. He recalled that beyond the end of this tunnel—with a fifty-foot drop—hung a ninety-foot knotted rope from ceiling to the ground, but the rope was about twelve feet past the mouth of the tunnel. He would have to jump for it, grab it, and climb down as fast as he could because the archers would still be in range—if he missed the rope, he'd surely be dead because of the long drop.

He leaped, and three scary-as-hell seconds later, his hands miraculously found and grabbed the rope. Of course, it had begun to swing back and forth from the momentum.

As he began to climb down, a good idea crossed his mind—he kicked his legs back and forth to keep the rope swinging.

He heard over a dozen whooshing sounds coming at him, but none of the arrows struck and he safely made it to the ground—without delay he commenced to run. About a dozen-or-so additional people had joined in with the applause.

Once Baltor had made it halfway to his next obstacle, he recalled that there were several straw-dummies up ahead; fortunately, the archers could not get him over there.

Confirming this theory just seconds later, he heard the sound of someone cutting a rope followed by the noise of a sword slicing through the air to his left.

Instantaneously he rolled left, grabbing the sword that had just finished its swing by sound alone. With an angular attack downward, he sliced the dummy in half.

Once more running, he took out two more dummies with his newly acquired weapon. He could hear more people cheering now.

His memory continued to serve him, recalling that the next obstacle happened to be a twenty-foot ladder leading into another tunnel. He also remembered that once he began to climb, he would once again be in the range of the archers.

Nevertheless, despite the dangers, he climbed the ladder, hearing several whooshing noises. Holding the ladder with his right hand, he used his left hand to swing his sword defensively. Baltor deflected three of the arrows, but the fourth struck him in his right forearm—quite a few people in the cheering crowds had oohed upon seeing that!

Despite the horrible pain, he continued to climb the ladder. Once he had made it to the top and into the tunnel, he heard several more whooshing sounds.

He rolled three times forward, causing the shaft of the arrow to break off and send shooting pains throughout his entire arm, but thankfully, none of the other arrows hit!

He dismissed the pain and ran on, recalling that the path of this tunnel wound itself to the right. At the end of this tunnel spanning about two hundred feet, the next obstacle was a rope attached to the ceiling twenty feet beyond the mouth of the tunnel; the ground was some thirty feet below.

However, what Baltor did not know was whether he would be in range of the archers at the tunnel's mouth and beyond. Therefore, he ran up to the edge and stopped.

Not even a split-second later, he heard a whooshing sound just before his sword deflected the incoming arrow. Now he had his answer—he was definitely in range.

He thus took twenty steps back while deflecting four more arrows. Once he knew he was out of range as the archers had stopped shooting, he paused for about twenty seconds to catch his breath. He then proceeded to run as fast as he could. After leaping as hard as he could over the side of the tunnel, he extended his arms out before twisting his right wrist so that the sword was parallel with the ground.

As he plummeted the thirty feet to the ground, he only then remembered that there was a dummy waiting for him.

The split-second his hands made contact the ground, he rolled his body forward to break the shock before swinging his sword up and out—the dummy was destroyed even before the instructor had the chance to cut the taut rope!

Most of the crowd 'aahed' at what they saw before them.

After commencing to run, Baltor recalled that there was only one obstacle left on the course—the dozen spiked bags. As he drew closer to his objective, he remembered that a railing hung about fifteen feet or so off the ground, securing all the bags.

He ran harder and harder while avoiding the dozens of flying arrows. With a leap that literally caused the crowd to gasp, he grabbed the top of the railing before pulling himself up to the top. After running the length, he dropped to the ground at the far end. Without pause, he proceeded to run straight ahead for the finish line.

He heard loud cheering a few seconds later; and with an ever-growing smile, Baltor knew that he had passed the test!

From amongst the cheering crowd, Salmot yelled about five seconds after the cheering had started, "Wait—wait—wait!"

Everyone clammed up.

Salmot screamed, "He didn't pass! Make him do it again—he cheated!"

Humonus challenged, "How you figure?"

Salmot sucked in a deep breath before explaining calmly, "He didn't go through the obstacles like he was supposed to. Baltor was supposed to go through the spiked bags, not over them. He probably also loosened his blindfolds so that he could see what lay ahead of him!"

Baltor groaned quietly. Yet his ears heard Humonus reply a couple of seconds later, "Well then, why don't you check the blindfold yourself to ensure that they are secure?"

A quarter of a minute passed as the boy felt his blindfold checked thoroughly. He then heard Salmot say, "Well...even though he couldn't see, he still didn't go through the final obstacle course like he was supposed to—I say we put it to a vote!"

Baltor heard his drill instructor dutifully reply, "Yes, Master Salmot, I totally agree! All those who believe that Baltor cheated and didn't pass his test, say 'Nay!'"

Only a few people replied to that.

He next heard his drill instructor enthusiastically roar, "All those in favor that Baltor has passed, say 'Aye!'"

The majority shouted, "Aye!"

Humonus exclaimed just as loud, "The ayes have it!"

Baltor couldn't help but hear the thunderous cheering and applause that erupted from the crowds—in fact; the volume nearly deafened him. At the same time, he felt someone untie and remove his blindfold. Once gone, he saw that the crowd was literally on its feet.

Proudly lifting his student's sword-bearing right hand, the drill instructor yelled at the top of his lungs, " _The ayes have it!_ "

Still again, the crowd roared out its unwavering approval, accentuating the single greatest moment in Baltor's life.

## CHAPTER VII

After the last of the crowd had finished with their congratulatory applause and cheering, perhaps a minute after it had begun, nearly half of the spectators dispersed their separate ways. As for the greater half that chose to linger around, they congregated and chatted with each other in diversely numbered groups. Not surprising to anyone, Salmot left first and without as much as a single clap or a word of congratulations.

Right after his departure, ten waiters arrived, rolling in wheeled-carts filled with finger snacks, delicacy desserts, and fruity beverages. Some of those beverages contained alcohol.

Meanwhile, a man—in his early twenties, clean-shaven, and dressed in a professional black jacket with a white-furled shirt—had just begun to approach Baltor and Humonus' location from the bleachers. This man carried a red backpack on his back and a plush black chair in both hands.

As he neared, he stated with excitement, "Congratulations to you, Baltor!" He promptly set the chair on the ground before him.

"Thank you, sir," Baltor said with pride.

Lightly patting his fist into his chest, the man introduced himself, "Oh, I'm not a 'sir' just yet; thank you very much. Right now I'm a medic, and I am here to tend to the arrowhead lodged in your forearm. My name's Racine...but most people call me 'Doc.'"

Racine pointed to the chair before saying, "So, please take a seat and be patient, while I pull everything I'll need out of my medical bag." He removed the heavy backpack off his back before setting it onto the ground.

Upon being reminded about the wound, Baltor's forearm became unbelievably painful, and so he sat down while saying with pain in his voice, "Okay—thanks, Doc."

Racine opened the backpack, pulling out a thin piece of wood that was about a foot in both length and width. After extending the four legs from the bottom, he then set the table on the ground right next to the chair.

He withdrew two bottles out of the bag, setting the larger bottle filled with a thin clear fluid onto the table. Still holding the other bottle filled with a thick black fluid, Racine extended it toward the boy while saying with a smile, "Chug this all down—it tastes awful, but you'll be feeling awfully good in a minute."

After Baltor had taken the extended bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth, he sniffed its powerful and unpleasing aroma.

" _Ewww_..." he said with a rather scrunched up face.

Humonus, who had been looking here and there, had also been listening to their conversation. He looked back over to his student before saying, "Trust him—Doc knows what he's talking about!"

Baltor plugged his nose with one hand. With the other, he tilted the bottle and chugged the nasty fluids down his throat.

Racine had just finished extracting out several more medical tools, supplies, and bandages. He began arranging them all neatly onto the table.

" _Uggghhhh_..." Baltor managed to say upon completion, despite the horrible-tasting substance that clung to his tongue like tar.

Once Racine had completed his tasks a half-minute later, he said, "When you no longer feel any pain in your arm, let me know so that I can begin the operation, please."

The same second that Baltor had nodded, he began to feel a pleasant tingling sensation in his mouth, throat, and stomach. Less than a minute later, his injured arm had gone numb, as had all his other joints, including his head—even though he felt marvelous, he said to Racine with a slur, "Yesss. Go 'head!"

The medic gingerly grabbed the arm before pouring the clear alcoholic disinfectant onto the area of the wound. Though a frothy substance appeared there, the boy felt no pain or anything else, whatsoever—he had reached the state of oblivion.

Racine, on the other hand, remained quite busy. He first set the bottle back down onto the table before picking up a sterile scalpel. Carefully probing the flesh around the arrowhead, he extracted it so as not to damage any muscle tissues.

Once finished, he set the tool and the broken-arrow onto the table. After picking up a sewing needle with thread, he carefully sewed the wound shut. Using a sterile cotton ball, he next applied a thick coat of dark-green gel.

After dressing it up with a half-inch thick sterile bandage, he wrapped a bunch of the bandaging material around the entire forearm—the process took about fifteen minutes.

Because Baltor was still in the state of oblivion, Racine turned to Humonus and informed, "I'll be by every day to change his bandages, and I'll remove his stitches in about two weeks, okay?"

Humonus nodded.

"Oh, and don't worry about the chair—I'll return and get it later on today," the medic added. "By the way, the elixir should wear off in about ten to fifteen more minutes, and then he'll be back to normal—nothing physical for him for the next two weeks. Don't get the bandaging wet—and last but not least."

After pulling out a small black bottle from the bag and handing it over to Humonus, Racine added, "Here is some pain medication. Do not give him any more than two teaspoons of it every six hours, okay? It goes down much better with juice."

"No problem....thanks, Doc," Humonus said appreciatively while taking the bottle.

"You're welcome, Drill Instructor Humonus," Racine replied with a smile. He walked over to the backpack before pulling out a small leather bag and packing all of the bloodied materials into the bag. Less than a minute later, he slipped on his backpack, waved at Humonus, and left the area.

At the same time, Lydia and Bayema—who had been sitting in the bleachers with a group of seven others and chatting about all the highlights of the show—only then concluded their fond farewells with their friends. The two ladies stood up, exited the bleachers, and while giddily chatting away with each other, they strolled toward Baltor and Humonus.

The boy—who had just regained consciousness—clumsily turned just his head until he was looking at his drill instructor, and then he asked with a strong slur, "Sir?"

Although Humonus continued to watch as the two ladies approached, he answered the question with a question, "Yes, Baltor?"

"'M I 'K?"

"Of course you are," Humonus replied with a laugh. "You'll just need to take things easy for the next couple weeks. Relax—you'll be able to ask your questions in a few minutes."

"'K."

A half-minute later, the two ladies arrived.

Lydia congratulated, "Excellent job, Baltor—I'm so proud of you!" She gave him a tight hug.

Baltor's mind suddenly became "crystal clear" as his mouth said, "Thank you, Mistress Lydia."

Outwardly, he looked composed while returning the hug. Inwardly, his heart beat fast and hard in his chest, despite the fact that his body still tingled from that narcotic medicine.

Once they had released the embrace, Baltor remembered his question, looked over at his drill instructor, and asked, "Sir, I was wondering. You said earlier that a person could stay in Phase Three as long as that person wishes. My question is...what is Phase Four?"

At this point, Bayema interjected, "I can answer that question, if you don't mind, Instructor Humonus."

In acknowledgment, Humonus nodded his head respectfully.

After taking a deep breath, Bayema answered, "Phase Four consists of a mission that you must perform for the Guild—it is a mission of our choice; not yours. Once you have completed it, reported your findings, and given your treasures to the High Council, we are the ones who ultimately determine whether your mission was a success or a failure! If you are a failure, you will have to wait an entire year before you can retest—after all, there are plenty of other students waiting in line behind you to take this ultimate test of all their thieving skills."

She pointed her index finger up into the air before adding, "If you are a success, then you graduate to your first official rank within the Guild—'Thief!' Now just so you know, there are thirteen higher grades within our organization, all the way up to Secret Chief, but we don't need to talk about this subject just now."

After taking in a deep breath, she continued, "Sometimes this mission you may get assigned may seem straightforward and relatively easy at the beginning, only to become very challenging and complex in the end—or vice-versa. Seldom does any mission involve traveling to some faraway land in order to acquire a valuable treasure, and rarely the mission is to try and acquire a supposed magical artifact."

Bayema added with a laugh, "As for me and my three-month mission that's still classified to this day—I was pretty lucky twenty-two years ago. Since I trust you all here implicitly, let me say that my mission was to steal the legendary Shield of Ariakus from the third cousin of the Sultan, who still resides in his own heavily guarded palace here in Pavelus. Despite the fact that this valuable gem-and-rune covered golden shield possessed no magical or combative capabilities, the Guild handsomely paid me 50,000 parsecs upon completion! Most importantly, since they deemed my mission a complete success, they promoted me to the rank of Thief."

Lydia laughed a couple of times before exclaiming, "You were lucky indeed! I had to sail north-northwest across the Sea of Albusina on a chartered ship—all the way up to the Ruins of Gravensky near the north pole. This journey took nearly eight months one way, in which my mission was to recover the Tome of Time. Once there, the sailors wouldn't even land at the ice-covered docks, claiming the place was haunted and they were afraid of the undead. Thankfully, they loaned me their rowboat and promised they would return in a month to pick me up."

She sucked in a deep breath through her nose before adding, "I found out—that very night—that the ruins were indeed haunted, but other than the loud, clanging noises the spirits liked to make and only at night, I was quite safe. After all, I donned an amulet necklace bearing their religious symbol, which I had chiseled out of mahogany during the voyage and attached it to my silver necklace. It took three weeks of diligent searching in order to locate the book, made of a leather binder with papyrus parchment and buried within a secret library—then one week later, as prearranged, the ship returned. I rowed out to the ship with the book in hand, and we sailed back to Pavelus. Upon my return, I delivered it to the Guild; they paid me 70,000 parsecs and promoted me to Thief. A year later, they informed me that although the Tome of Time had been deemed worthless in every way except for its value as an ancient artifact, I could still keep the money they had granted for all my efforts."

Bayema asked, "You were the one who did that?"

With a smile and a nod, Lydia said, "Yes. That was me!"

Humonus chuckled and asked, "Oh, yeah? My top-secret mission was to infiltrate the Thieves' Guild in the Vaspan Empire's city of Mauritia in order to discover the mysterious whereabouts of the kidnapped Princess of Thorium and rescue her! The guild members there call themselves 'Ponchatas'—venomous-jungle snakes that can kill a human in mere seconds."

Both ladies looked astonished at his revelation and wowed together in unison, " _Ooooh!_ "

Lydia asked a few seconds later, "You did that?"

After a single nod, Humonus answered, "Yup."

The boy looked confused as he asked, "By the tone of your ladies' voices, I'm now really wondering. Was that a really important mission or something?"

Bayema answered, "Yes. Just about every major city has a thieves' guild, including Mauritia. However, within every guild, including ours, double agents are working for another guild, especially those coming from our main rivals in more than one way—Mauritia! We have spent the last three hundred years trying to eradicate all of our double agents secretly working for any other guilds. Unfortunately, despite our greatest oaths and measures and gifts, this has proven futile, sadly."

Once Humonus realized she had finished speaking, evident only by the fact that she looked directly at him and nodded a few times while waving her hand around in little circles, he nodded back one time. He then said, "Anyway, to share more of my adventure, a little over a decade ago, the Princess was kidnapped and held for ransom with an ungodly demand of 500,000,000 parsecs, evident only by the letter left behind on her bed. If not paid within thirty days, the letter promised that they would assassinate her in a torturous and brutal fashion before her remains were shipped back to Thorium! Despite the King of Thorium's love for his daughter that was so great that he would do anything in his power to get her back, even if it meant selling his entire kingdom piece by piece, he would only become to come up with about 320,000,000. If he sold his people and family into slavery, he had—at tops—about 380,000,000! That was precisely what Emperor-Sedious Vaspan—ruler of the Vaspan Empire and enemy of the Sharia Empire—counted on."

He cleared his throat a couple of times before looking at the boy and explaining, "For your information, Baltor, 'Sedious' is not just a name, but an ancient Fasian title meaning 'overlord.' This particular emperor is so pompous that he gave himself two ruler titles—not just one."

Baltor nodded his head once before replying, "Ahhh, ok."

Once again enrapt in his tale, Humonus said, "Continuing: with a little help from the Guild, I discovered the _very, very, very_ _secretive_ location of Ponchatas' chief's house. So that afternoon, I chartered a merchant ship displaying a neutral flag to sail me to Mauritia. And once there, two-and-a-half weeks later, I went to his house, snuck my way over the fence and around all his masterfully designed security measures that ranged from booby traps to guards—ultimately I arrived within the chief's bedroom, completely undetected."

After sucking in a deep breath, he went on, "Why did I go to his bedroom, you may be wondering? Because that was where my informant told me the man's hidden-away safe was located, but he didn't specifically know where—this safe held the map containing the exact coordinates of the Princess. Upon my arrival, I had to hide under his bed for two nights and three days with only the food and water I brought with me. Finally, the man _himself_ entered with three drop dead gorgeous females..."

He paused for effect before saying, "Minutes after their arrival, servants delivered food and alcohol; and three hours later, the chief and his guests were all drunk. The man commenced to brag about all his accomplishments in life; and of course, the girls became enthralled and began to giggle; this made him even more boisterous. After walking behind the luxurious furry white couch where the girls sat, he told them to stare deep into the heart of the fireplace that was set ablaze shortly after their arrival. The girls did as instructed. He turned around to face the bed under which I was hiding and noiselessly tapped the base of the corner post with his right foot; causing the entire fireplace to shift. Then he turned back around, facing the women. Sitting behind the fireplace was a secret passage leading downstairs. The girls _oohed_ and _aahed_ at what they saw, and so he invited them to follow him down the passageway. They did."

After chuckling a few times, he added, "Eventually, they came back upstairs to the bedroom. For modesty's sake, let's just say that some adult-situations happened—both down and upstairs—which I will not get into! Hours after they had passed out on the bed above me, sometime around midnight, I silently crawled out from underneath, tapped the same spot that the chief had kicked, and went downstairs. What I saw at the end of the passage caused my mouth to drool—tons of gold, jewels, paintings, you name it!"

He pointed his index finger up before saying, "But since I had come there for one purpose, I searched all around this hidden room. I finally discovered the safe underneath a floorboard, and after disarming it, unlocking it, and opening it, I found inside a rectangular-shaped box made out of ruby—inside this box was the map revealing the Princess' coordinates. I took the map, which I should have left for the reason that I'll get into soon enough, then closed and locked the box, rearmed the trap, and exited the secret room. Once upstairs, I tapped the same spot on the bed to shut the trapdoor, and stealthily exited the premises; reversing the course I had taken to get in."

At this point, he stopped speaking in order to clear his throat, He then said, "While looking at the map and walking the city streets, I became astounded to learn the location of the Princess, in which she had been in Pavelus all along! Therefore, I chartered the next ship heading that direction, a merchant ship. Once I got back, I immediately went to a boarded-up factory in the northeastern section. There, I found the Princess tied up to a chair in the basement all alone, so I untied her and told her to follow me out of the building."

After coughing one time in the sleeve of his shirt, he said, "What I couldn't predict was that the chief had discovered his map was gone only a couple hours after I left Mauritia, nor that he owned a souped-up frigate ship. So even though he and twenty master thieves sailed to Pavelus perhaps six hours after me, they arrived six days before me! Just as the Princess and I were walking out the front door, the chief and his henchmen surrounded us in the lobby, armed to the teeth and ready to kill..."

He sucked in a deep breath before declaring with pride, "I fought the most ferocious battle I've ever experienced or seen, barely winning by killing them all! Afterward, I brought the Princess back to Thorium by a different merchant ship just before dropping her off at her palace's doorsteps. Still another merchant ship dropped me off here in Pavelus; shortly after that, the Guild promoted me to 'Thief.' Overall, it was a terribly difficult mission indeed."

Bayema asked right away, "Isn't that where you got your battle scar?"

Humonus' hand gently touched the scar that strayed up and down his cheek. He then answered, "Yes. Had it not been for my face, the Princess would have been slain by the blade of the Chief!"

"Who is this Princess, why is she so important, and what has she to do with our Guild?" Baltor asked inquisitively.

Lydia answered without hesitation, "The now thirty-year-old Princess Calitta is the sole heir to the Kingdom of Thorium—amazingly her sixty-five-year-old father still lives today. His vast kingdom lies nearly fifteen hundred miles to the southeast, in which it is adjacent to our neighboring nation of Mauritia that is a country half our size. Because of all the territorial disputes between Mauritia and us, and Mauritia and Thorium, the Sharia Empire and Thorium have become good friends and trading partners."

Humonus interjected, "Thus, if I hadn't rescued this Princess, Thorium would have fallen under the rule of Mauritia, and Pavelus would have been the next city to fall. We do the majority of our trade and commerce with Thorium. That is why I was ordered to accomplish this mission—this and because I had already learned quite a few of the secrets about the Ponchatas from an old friend of mine, who shall remain nameless—and the rest I figured out on my own."

"One last question, sir," Baltor said. "Why would the Ponchatas want to kidnap the Princess in the first place, instead of Emperor Vaspan himself?"

With a very impressed tone in his voice, Humonus answered, "Excellent question! Though this man covets the wealth and lands of _both_ the Kingdom of Thorium and the Sharia Empire, he's not stupid enough to do the act himself! After all, he doesn't have the men or the supplies to launch a two-front war—literally! So, he secretly paid their chief 2,000,000 parsecs to kidnap the Princess!"

Baltor breathed a sigh of amazement.

After nodding his head a couple of times, Humonus added, "That is just one reason, Baltor, that I stress the importance of continuing your education beyond the basics."

Bayema extended her hand to Baltor. Once she had clasped it, she said, "Well, I have some errands to attend. Great job on your test, Baltor, and God's luck be with you for your future!"

"Thank you, my Mistress!"

Bayema departed.

With a warm smile, Lydia said, "Baltor, you have impressed me to no end. I know that you will go far in the Guild and make me proud!" She embraced the boy, giving him another tight hug.

Baltor felt his cheeks slightly burn, his heart flutter, and his words stutter, as he said, "Tha-thank you very much, my Mistress!"

Lydia released her embrace and departed. Moments later only Humonus and Baltor remained in the chamber.

"Sir, I shall make you proud. You have been an outstanding drill instructor, and for that, I shall always be in your debt."

"You are very welcome, Baltor, but you may now call me by my name, as I am no longer your drill instructor. The only time I insist you use my title is when I'm with another student or any other members of the Guild. Before I take you to the Hall of Education, let's get you cleaned up at the bathhouse, and then eat some grub. Sound good?"

Baltor answered with a smile, "Yes, sir."

"Humonus, Baltor. My name is Humonus."

"Humonus," Baltor responded.

Before the two had climbed the ladder that led into the fountain room, Humonus showed Baltor the secret latch. He then ordered, "Be sure that you do not tell anyone where this latch is, okay?"

"Yes, Humonus, I promise I won't tell a soul."

Humonus led the way to the bathhouse. Upon arrival, he said, "There is some soap and towels on the shelf over there. Go ahead and take a bath. I have some things I need to get in my apartment, but I'll be back in about a half an hour. Oh, by the way, the medic told me to tell you not to get your bandages wet." He exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Baltor soaked in the hot soapy bathtub while using a sponge to clean his body, yet kept his bandages dry. By the time that he wrapped a towel around his waist, he noticed that Humonus was only now opening the door. The man's right hand held a pair of black boots. His left hand clasped some underwear, socks, and a couple of metal hangers with some clothes hanging on them.

Humonus sang, "I purchased some brand-new clothes for you to wear!"

"Wow! Thank you very much, Humonus!"

"You're welcome—I hope you like them," Humonus said as he handed over everything but the socks and boots. He then turned around, waiting for the boy to put them on.

The t-shirt was blue, and the pants were black—Baltor found that everything fit perfectly and smelled clean. Once fully dressed, he asked, "What do you think?"

Humonus turned around, inspected the boy for a few seconds, and then said, "Nice! Now put these on." He handed over the socks, as well the boots.

Baltor slid on the socks and then the black knee-high boots that also fit perfectly.

"One more thing," Humonus said as he pulled a comb out of his pocket and handed it over, "there's a mirror over there, so you can fix your hair."

Baltor nodded, took the comb, walked over to the mirror, and brushed his hair until it was nice and neat. This process took him a couple of minutes since he had not tampered with his hair in ages, which now reached halfway down his back.

As soon as Humonus observed that the boy had completed the combing process, he said, "With this ring, you can secure that hair of yours, so it doesn't fly all about."

Baltor glanced over, noticing a shiny golden ring that Humonus held with his right thumb and index finger.

The boy asked in shock, "Is that real gold?"

Humonus smiled for a couple of seconds before saying, "Yes, it is! You earned it."

Baltor took the ring, pulled his hair together until it was tight, pushed it through the ring, pulled up the ring until it grew snug in his hair, and then gazed back at the mirror.

After Humonus had given the boy a chance to admire himself, he concluded with a sigh, "Well. The time has come for us to head to the chow hall. You look great!"

"Yes, sir! I mean, Humonus. Just so you know, it will take me awhile to get used to calling you by your name."

Upon giving an understanding smile, Humonus led the way to the fancy restaurant they had eaten at during his trial. There they ate an incredibly delicious lunch, consisting of charbroiled steaks, baked potatoes, and green beans.

While eating, quite a number of the other Guild members gave friendly smiles or waves at Baltor—he smiled, nodded or waved back.

Once done with lunch, they headed to the Hall of Education. Nearly five minutes later, they arrived.

Baltor realized immediately that this "hall" was not a hall at all, yet a massive library containing thousands upon thousands of books and scroll cases, all systematically stored upon sturdy oak racks spanning from floor to ceiling throughout this room that was bigger than any room he had ever seen before.

Minutes later, they stood before an old woman who sat behind an oak desk. This desk had only three objects sitting on it. One; a logbook bearing Baltor's name on the front cover; two and three; a feathery quill lying in a small bottle of black ink.

After gesturing to the woman with his hand, Humonus said, "Madame-Librarian Sharice will help you select your classes. As for me, I must get going. I've got 'a hot date' in an hour I got to get ready for."

Baltor replied excitedly, "Sounds like fun!"

"Oh," Humonus responded with a smile, "I'm sure it will be. Well, best of luck to you, Baltor!"

Baltor clasped Humonus' extended hand with his own while saying jubilantly, "Thank you so very much for everything, Instructor Humonus."

Humonus released the handshake before departing.

Once the man was no longer in sight, Baltor asked, "So, Madame Sharice, what classes can I take?"

After listening to a litany of introductory courses, which took Sharice nearly five minutes to recite, he spent several minutes pondering all his options. One course he silently promised to himself that he would take was archery, as soon as his arm had healed entirely.

Sharice opened up the logbook to the first blank page—twenty-five pages after the beginning page. Once opened, she picked up the quill in her right hand and patiently waited while Baltor deliberated in silence.

Nearly a minute later, he said, "I wish to take the Pavelian language course, basic math, history, and unlocking doors and safes. That's it for now."

After writing all his selections and weekly schedule down, she informed him, "School for you begins tomorrow morning—do not be tardy to a single class, or it will count against you as a strike. Three strikes and you'll be expelled from that course. One unexcused absence and you're instantly expelled. All classes are one hour in length and conducted six days a week, the days and times will differ because of your other classes. Now, do you know where you're going to be residing?"

"Umm," Baltor said, "I've decided to stay in the barracks until I can afford my own place."

"Okay, no problem," Sharice said. "You may reside in the advanced students' barracks as long as you wish, as most students do until they make some money, but there are five rules that you must never break. One, you are allowed to leave the property whenever you're not in school, but never use the palace entrances—use the tunnels below. We'll even give you a fake ID, in case you ever have a run-in with city guards. Two, do not go to your former barracks anymore. Three, do not chat with any other advanced students in your new barracks, even if you become friends with another advanced student. Chatting outside of the barracks is okay, but never in the barracks. Four, if any beginning student tries to talk with you, do not say a word; instead, you must immediately walk away as twenty-four-hour monitors are observing and recording everything."

After sucking in a deep breath, she said, "And rule number five...you are allowed to associate yourself with the advanced students only when you and they are not in class, but you must not bother the instructors when they are with their students, regardless the level of student: beginning or advanced. Violation of any rule bears the minimum punishment of a whipping while the maximum penalty is death. Punishment will be strictly enforced by the High Council! Any questions?"

Baltor answered, "No, ma'am."

"Good," Sharice replied with a nod. "Once our meeting is adjourned, I am going to have one of my assistants show you how to avoid the booby traps on the way to your new barracks. Never disarm those traps, even when you learn how. Last but not least, I will assign another assistant to wake you up tomorrow morning at six-thirty. He or she shall wait for you to eat breakfast before escorting you to each of your classes, as you will not be taking the same classes every day, and then take you back to the barracks just before dinnertime. You have one week to memorize the times and locations for all your classes. Any questions for me?"

"No, ma'am," Baltor answered with a shake of his head.

"Have a nice day," Sharice chimed aloud. She pulled a bell out of her desk drawer, ringing the bell six times. Only a handful of seconds had passed before an average-looking/seventeen-year-old girl arrived.

Although Baltor had never seen her before, he did see that she carried an unlit lamp in her right hand, so he assumed she was his escort.

Sharice confirmed, "Take this young man to the barracks for the advanced students, please."

The girl replied, "Yes, Madame Sharice. Follow me, boy." Her voice had sounded respectful when she answered Sharice, but snobby when she addressed Baltor.

"Thanks a lot for your help, ma'am," Baltor said while looking at Sharice. He then commenced following this girl that he already did not like.

On the way there, a trip void of conversation, he decided that after he had finished all his classes each day, he would continue to train on the obstacle courses after the two-week period to heal up was complete and his stitches were removed, just to keep up his physique. Today he would take the day off, other than settling in. He also decided that he would ignore everyone around here, except for instructors, medics, masters, and mistresses—much safer that way.

Shortly after making this decision, he noticed that they entered into the training cavern and that she headed for the second dark tunnel to the right. Once inside, the girl made a right-hand turn at the first bend in the tunnel a hundred feet away, turned on her lamp, and then she turned around.

Once he had arrived at her location, she said indifferently, "As you will come to learn about this particular tunnel, boy, you will note that there are seven pitfalls and four booby traps. All of them are lethal. For the most part, you will only need to stay on the right side of the tunnel. Only twice will you have to shift to the left side. Memorize exactly where everything's at...because you are not allowed to carry torches or any other forms of light."

"Okay."

She led the way. While he followed, he paid close attention to where all the pitfalls and traps were, learning how to avoid them by counting his footsteps.

They arrived at their destination about fifteen minutes later. It was then that the girl turned off her lamp, and left without a word spoken, not even a goodbye. Of course, he did not say a word back.

Other than the shape of the cavern, Baltor saw that this barracks looked similar to his old barracks, but there were footlockers and-or wall lockers sitting next to just about every bunk—altogether, thirty beds. However, most were neatly made up with nice sheets, blankets, and pillows. The remaining few had a green blanket that had been rolled up and placed at the head of the bed, as well a thick white pillow. Besides the only other tunnel that he presumed led to the latrine, he also saw a twenty-foot-long table. On it sat a dozen metallic containers sitting on metallic stands, in which small burning candles heated up the underside of each pan and the food inside. Sitting at the far end of the table were plates, forks, mugs, pitchers of water, and cloth napkins.

After surveying the room, he chose one of the empty bunks in the middle of the room and laid down in it to take a nap—unfortunate for him, someone had selected every one of the corner bunks. Still, he fell asleep right away.

Dinner turned out to be delicious a few hours later, consisting of a large turkey leg, spicy mashed potatoes, and some unknown type of cooked, green vegetable.

Because he felt a bit antsy after eating, he headed for the training area, picked up a long sword with his left hand, and trained for the couple of hours. Of course, he avoided using his damaged arm.

Following, he made his way for his bunk, unrolled the blanket, climbed into bed, and lay his head down on the pillow.

While lying there and staring up at the ceiling trying to get tired enough so he could fall asleep, he decided to stay in the barracks until he could earn some honest money and afford his own place. Sure he was technically learning how to become a master thief, but in secret, he thought of himself as an adventurer. Perhaps one day, he might even become "Drill Instructor Baltor!"

It was upon thinking these last thoughts that he passed out.

The next morning, as Sharice had promised, an elderly man politely woke Baltor from sleep, explaining that he was the assistant. After the boy had dressed and consumed breakfast, scrambled eggs, sausage, wheat toast, and a mug of orange juice, this man escorted him to all classes that day and the entire week. While Baltor attended and learned in each class, in which he also memorized the times and locations, the assistant took care of other daily duties he had on his list.

Ten school days later, after Baltor finished his final class of adding/subtracting, he entered the training area. It surprised him to discover that Humonus had a brand-new student—this time a girl.

From a distance, the boy watched in silent amusement, and recollection, as the hardcore drill instructor screamed insults in the young girl's face while egging her on to do more push-ups or sit-ups.

Baltor held back a laugh of remembrance as he watched her struggle, seconds before he made his way to his barracks for some much-needed dinner. While eating, he wondered if Humonus ever took a vacation.

Five nights later, exactly two weeks after the boy had received the stitches, Racine paid his fourth visit to the barracks in the middle of the night and saw that Baltor was sleeping.

After cautiously waking him up by wiggling his big toe, Racine said, "Hey buddy...let's check on your stitches."

While yawning, Baltor sat up in bed and extended his bandaged arm out, at which point Racine used a pair of scissors to cut off all the exterior and interior wrappings.

Upon taking a professional look at the stitches and seeing that everything had healed up, the medic informed with a little smile, "Yup...good to go." He began the process of cutting them off.

During this painless medical procedure, Baltor released a deep yawn before responding, "Awesome, Doc. By the way, how much longer should I wait before I can take archery?"

Racine's answer was, "Two weeks." At the same moment, he finished cutting off the last stitch.

While looking at his arm, Baltor replied, "Perfect...and thanks!"

"No problem, Baltor. Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I've got another patient to check on before I can call it a day. Trust me; it's been a long day!"

"Thanks again so much, Doc. Bye."

"Bye."

Baltor lay back down in his bunk, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

The next morning, he awoke and ate a hearty breakfast of warm porridge with a mug of milk, and then he went to his first class of the day—reading and writing.

After his final class of arithmetic had concluded that evening, Baltor painlessly trained through several of the obstacles courses before calling it "a day."

The next morning, Baltor revisited the Hall of Education. There, Sharice granted him the basic archery course in two weeks hence, as he already excelled in most of his classes.

Two weeks later, he began his first class of archery—quickly he found that he was getting the "hang of it."

Several months passed by and his level of education steadily increased. He had just finished graduating the basic arithmetic and archery courses and had just begun taking advanced mathematics, archery, swimming, and the Mauritian language course.

As for "unlocking doors and safes course," that was another matter, since he did not have a whole lot of patience for the complicated locks that Instructor Thaven set up. After all, the student could not unlock any of them within his teacher's tight time frames; it took him two semesters to graduate this course instead of one.

The months turned into years, and Baltor had inevitably become a sixteen-year-old who stood at five-foot-nine with a weight of one hundred and seventy pounds of muscle, having a peach-fuzz goatee, as well a crackly voice. He even had earned a week's worth of decent clothes, socks, and underwear, which allowed him a hundred percent maneuverability—thanks to Humonus' kind generosities whenever Baltor received an "A" in any class.

Overall, Baltor had graduated seven thieving-related courses so far. Furthermore, he could now speak, write, and understand four languages—Pavelian, Mauritian, Thoriumite, and Savekian. Just as impressive was the fact that he had graduated advanced algebra and geometry, and had just begun to take basic biology and chemistry courses the semester prior.

Because he always put a higher priority on his education over a job, he continued residing in the barracks, though he now had his private corner to himself. He also had a large wall locker with a lock and key—all gifts from Humonus. The handle of the key looped around the silver necklace, which objects always hung around Baltor's neck.

The evening after his seventeenth birthday—another two inches taller, ten pounds heavier, and with a manly voice—he had just exited his "basic-etiquette class" and was strolling down the hallway that led to the fountain room, he soon after observed Lydia approaching from the other direction.

As they passed by each other, she did not recognize him because he had his hair pulled back into a ponytail, he had facial hair, and he kept his body washed and clean. As for him, however, he had never forgotten her image.

After all the years that he had known Lydia, he was still very much in love with her, even though fifteen years his senior. He dreamt of her quite often.

He turned around and exclaimed with his manly voice, "Mistress Lydia—how are you?"

She turned around until facing Baltor. She next threw a puzzled look while asking, "Do I know you?"

Upon seeing his eyes squint just a bit, a look of remembrance crossed her face, and she exclaimed, "Baltor—how on earth are you?" She wasted no time giving him a tight hug, but as she loosened her hold so she could look at him again, she added excitedly, "Woooow...you look spectacular!"

Though his cheeks had turned red from the compliment, he managed to answer, "Good, very good, my Mistress."

She gave him yet another tight hug before saying, "That's great to hear!" She pulled herself away for the third time to get an even better look at the young man, and said, "My, oh my, what a powerful man you have turned out to be!"

Suddenly gaining courage, perhaps from all her compliments, he spoke aloud his heart and mind, "My Mistress, there's something I've been meaning to ask you for some time now, but I've never really had the nerve to do it before—until now. May I ask you that question?"

"Of course you may, Baltor."

Baltor was just about to "pop the question," but unexpectedly, his throat had clogged itself up with phlegm, the nerves throughout his entire body felt on fire, and his head began to swirl.

Lydia's face instantly turned from happiness to concern, and so she asked, "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat a few times, took a deep breath and slowly released it. After taking another deep breath, he asked her, "Would you like to go out with me sometime....like on a date?"

She henceforth looked away from him and toward the ground—only a second later, she completely released her hug, took a couple of steps back, and answered, "I can't, Baltor."

His facial expression instantly betrayed shock and hurt, but he still managed to ask, "Why not?"

"Baltor..." she confessed, "I'm with someone else and am deeply in love with him."

With disappointment evident in his face and voice, he asked, "What? Who?"

She perceived his crushed look, and so she added, "I have been for three years now. Besides, I am way too old for you."

With exasperation growing in his voice, he asked, "Did you know what it really was that helped me through all my training and tests? It was you! Even though my mind didn't know it at the time, my heart has always known. I'm in love with you, Lady Lydia! Who cares about our little age difference?"

She tried to console, "Baltor, you are young and so very handsome. There is no doubt in my mind that you can have your pick of any number of beautiful women your age. As for you and me, this can never be. Can't we just keep being good friends?"

A few tears unexpectedly poured down his face before he said, "I...I've got to go."

"Wait, Baltor!" she called out, but it was too late, for he had already begun running down the hallway toward the exit.

She was about to chase him down, but only after having taken a couple of steps, she changed her mind. She decided that it was best if Baltor remained alone...

Two additional productive years passed as he continued to reside at the barracks—Baltor was now nineteen, six feet tall, one hundred and eighty-five pounds of lean muscle, and sporting a six-inch-long goatee that he kept braided. Typically but not always, he shaved off the mustache and three-quarters of the sideburns.

Diligently he pursued deeper into his education, especially his thieving-related courses—and so rare were the times he ever left the Guild. During those times he wasn't in class, he either trained at the training area or studied from a book, or two, or three before falling to sleep late at night. He had never stolen anything from anybody.

On the other hand, he had mastered all eight languages from the neighboring countries, as well their histories and customs. All of his teachers were highly impressed by the remarkable amount of intelligence Baltor possessed.

One particular subject that he enjoyed learning was world history, especially about Mauritia's history, the only city of the Vaspan Empire. And the surprising fact that the legendary Emperor-Sedious Vaspan, ruler of the Vaspan Empire, was the younger brother of Sultan Brishavo Helenus XI, ruler of the Sharia Empire.

A family feud started between them, approximately twenty-five years ago, when Prince Vaspan Helenus had become enraged because his elder brother had refused to share any of his empire. Therefore, he dropped his last name, promoted himself to "Emperor-Sedious," stole about one-third of the Sultan's troops while the Sultan was away, and without a drop of blood spilled, conquered one of the three cities of the Sharia Empire—the city of Mauritia. Of course, none of this information was mentioned in _any_ of Pavelus's library books, but it was written in all three neighboring countries' world-history books.

Finally, regarding the feud, because of the lost wars and years that the Sultan spent trying to recapture his stolen city and one-third of his land, which always ended in failure, he continued to have only two thriving cities—Pavelus and Lasparus. After all, Emperor-Sedious Vaspan had quickly fortified his beloved city with huge labyrinth walls that surrounded her to date—very effective defense for stopping massive armies.

Naturally, Baltor loved learning anything and everything in school. Perhaps because of this, the times were rare when he saw Lydia, which was only twice. That was okay by him, for knowledge had become his new passion and love.

Even better, Baltor and Humonus had become good friends. Once or twice every week they would spar against each other in the training area to improve their fighting skills. And on a rare occasion, perhaps once every other month, they would even go out to a bar for a few drinks, in order to have a little fun...

## CHAPTER VIII

Five days after Baltor's twentieth birthday, he finally graduated from ninety-nine percent of the courses he could take as an advanced student. Still, he knew had one hundred and three additional courses to take; after, of course, he had achieved higher ranks in the Guild.

The final year-long course he had just completed with an "A" was "equestrian combat;" he had learned how to fight like a pro while riding on a horse at full gallop. The one course that he purposefully never selected was "picking pockets"—he felt this skill would undermine his vision of himself as "an honorable adventurer."

In fact, he now felt so ready to undertake any quest that the Guild could ever ask that he submitted the written petition for Phase Four.

Fortune smiled upon him, as he only had to wait one week and a morning before the High Council summoned him via a messenger. Within a half hour, he stood before them in their throne room, in which all ten council members sat on their thrones. The cast he remembered from his murder trial nine years earlier were Bayema, Lydia, and Salmot. Surprising to Baltor, Lupan was not in attendance, nor was that old woman who seemed to be the judge.

Sitting in that woman's place was a lovely middle-aged woman who wore a forest-green evening dress. Her most prominent feature was her black hair with sky-blue streaks in it that dropped halfway down her back before braiding itself back up into a tight bun on the back of her head; her second feature was the sky-blue eyeshadow surrounding her dark-brown eyes. She greeted pleasantly, "Good morning to you, Baltor! My name is Mistress Tricia."

Baltor extended his arms out until the entire High Council was within the perimeter of his hands before bowing for a few seconds. After rising, he sounded just as pleasant as he replied, "Good morning to you all, Masters and Mistresses! Mistress Tricia." He nodded his one time.

Tricia went straight to the point as she asked, "So, do you still feel ready for Phase Four?"

"Yes, I do, my Mistress," he answered right away.

"Baltor, in most cases, we do not give our candidates a choice to accept or deny the mission we select—however, in this particular case, we shall allow you that option."

His facial expression transformed from confident to surprise, but that lasted for only a second before returning to the original. In the next second, he replied, "No matter the mission, or missions, that the High Council wishes for me to accomplish, now or in the future, I shall succeed." He bowed for a moment.

"Excellent," Tricia said. "But please make your final decision only after I've concluded with my briefing okay?"

Once again, the same look of surprise crossed his face, yet this time it lasted for a few seconds; through this time frame, he still managed to answer, "Okay."

Tricia cleared her throat twice before asking, "Were you in Pavelus four months back when we experienced the major earthquake?"

After his eyes had squinted for a couple of moments, he took a breath through his nose before answering, "Yes, Mistress Tricia...I was in my chemistry class that was about halfway over for the day. Actually, it was quite fortunate for everyone in the class that Instructor Qels had only just begun reading from the next chapter on acid making when everything and everybody got unexpectedly thrown violently about for nearly ten minutes. To explain the reason I say it's quite fortunate was that we had been experimenting with the powerful acidic solution taught in the previous chapter the very day before. In other words, everyone in the classroom could have been blown to bits, including me!"

Three of the council members, including Salmot, apparently found Baltor's answer to be hilarious for they proceeded to laugh hysterically. Baltor, on the other hand, kept his poker face instead of expressing any anger or hostility to the man.

Neither did Tricia chuckle nor look amused. Instead, she looked sharply to her left and then to her right at the laughers seated around her; they silenced immediately.

She cast her gaze upon Baltor before clearing her throat and revealing, "What I'm fairly sure you're aware of is that the earthquake caused only minor structural damage to nearly a quarter of the city, yet it did a lot of damage to our harbor. Thankfully, only three of the Guild's properties were damaged at all. However, because of all the shifting earth, nearly three dozen tunnels had become impassable, while five we never previously knew about became revealed."

"Yes, my Mistress. I am aware, as I was a part of the clean-up crew; I spent most of my time cleaning up the library."

She half-sang, "What I'm one hundred percent certain that you are not aware of—as it was immediately labeled 'top-secret' after its discovery and has been zealously guarded ever since—is that one of those five tunnels leads up a particular cavern with a lagoon in it. This cavern is three times the size of our training area and is located about a third of a mile away to the southeast. Now, located on the far side of the lagoon just before the cavern's end is a white marble pedestal whose dimensions are three feet tall by two feet square. Inscribed on its sides are nine stars, ranging in number from three to twelve."

She sucked in a deep breath of air before adding, "If that's not enough to pique your interest, we discovered an even more interesting object sitting on it—a leather map. The Guild has tested and determined that both artifacts are at least a thousand years old. We have also learned from our investigation that it had to be the mapmaker who purposefully cut this map in half and in an ever-so-slight zigzag pattern so that it would fit precisely with the perimeter of the top of the pedestal. Despite all our best investigative searches around the cavern and the surrounding areas, there are no other pedestals, nor could we find the bottom half of the map anywhere. Understand me so far?"

"Yes, my Mistress."

After thrusting her index finger up into the air, she exclaimed, "Good!" Her volume returned to normal before she informed, "Now one of the reasons that this map is so important to the Guild is because it reveals the entire upper half of the world we dwell upon, meaning that the second half shows the entire lower half of the world. Before I continue with the briefing, do you know why this type of map could be beneficial and important to all of us?" She relaxed her index finger, placing her hand on her lap.

"I believe I do, my Mistress," Baltor answered. "Because there has never before been produced a world map, or so we previously thought?"

She threw both hands up into the air for a second before saying with excitement, "Exactly! More than two-thirds of the map we currently possess is still uncharted, as the Sultan and his ancestors have become wealthy and powerful by focusing all the activities of the empire only on trade. They certainly did not make any major conquests or, at the very minimum, any serious exploration of our continent, which I think is quite sad and pathetic. For these reasons alone, we often wonder why our current ruler bothers to call himself a Sultan at all!"

Following her statement, most of the High Council proceeded to chuckle. Only a couple of seconds had passed before she began laughing along with them while looking amused at the other members—but Baltor didn't laugh, look amused, or even speak.

Moments later, Tricia looked once more at Baltor, and once more with a serious expression. She pointed two fingers up into the air before saying, "The second reason that this map is important is that there is a small five-pointed star drawn on it, which typically indicates a capital city, located in the same coordinates as Pavelus. Though there are no other stars of any kind drawn upon the map, there are dozens of other dots, indicative of cities, spread throughout the entire continent. This authenticated map certainly proves that our city is much more ancient than historians have falsely presumed and taught for the last five hundred years."

Tricia paused once more, this time to clear her throat a few times. Instead of continuing, she turned just her head to the left and asked, "Master Fargot, will you carry on in the briefing, please? My voice is getting a bit tired."

"I'd be delighted to, Mistress Tricia," Fargot answered in a showman's voice. "Still another reason why this map could be so important to us, as well to you, is because of the tiny picture of a tower drawn near the center of a vast jungle named Galgaa lying far to the east, perhaps a thousand miles away beyond the equally massive Sharia Desert and Bospa Mountains. Oh, there is one more thing I need to mention about this picture of the tower. Drawn inside it is an 'X,' and in case you're not aware, 'X' typically marks the spot for treasure on a map... Understand me, so far?"

"Yes, Master Fargot."

Fargot nodded three times before adding, "If that's not all, there is a message written on the far-left side of the map, in which one of our expert translators already translated this ancient script. Five years ago, this translator found in his deceased father's collection a tattered, poetry book written in the same runic language and era; a book entitled _Love, Peace, and Joy_. Of course, the Guild let him keep this book, as it had no value at the time—now it obviously does."

After sucking in a deep breath, he added, "So, here is the translated message on the map, and I quote, 'The Rod of Ro'shain has magical powers beyond imagination, but it must be used wisely by only the chosen one. If one condition is not met, then the wrath of the gods shall utterly destroy...'"

He shrugged his shoulders one time before saying, "Because the Guild does not have the other half of the map, we do not know the second half to this message. Perhaps you will learn the whole message if you can locate the bottom half?"

Tricia interjected at this point to say, "My voice is much better now, Master Fargot. Would you mind if I concluded the briefing?"

"I do not mind, Mistress Tricia. By all means, please proceed."

Tricia briefed, "There are two more important subjects we need to cover. The first is that you will minimally be traveling a couple of thousand miles to get there and back, which will take you years until you return to Pavelus, if ever...

"The last subject that we need to discuss is this—there has never, ever, ever been any tangible proof that magic or gods exist, despite the centuries the Guild has sought, captured and tested supposed magical and-or religious artifacts and tomes from all over the world. In my opinion, we should only be focusing upon treasures of gold and jewels, instead of wasting our time on magical mumbo-jumbo."

Most of the council members had already commenced to nodding their heads while the remainder shook their heads.

Tricia released a deep sigh before concluding, "Therefore, even if the tower and the rod should still happen to exist today, this unusual quest will most likely prove to be a big waste of your time."

Following a shrug to her shoulders, she asked, "Now that I've concluded with my briefing, are you interested in such a quest?"

Baltor scanned the crowd while answering, "Not only shall I find this tower if it still exists, but I shall recover the rod if that exists." His eyes, in the same moment he had finished speaking rested upon Lydia, noting that she had been silently staring at him without expression. He stared back without a single emotion evident.

Tricia drew all of the attention back to herself a couple of seconds later, as she asked, "Even though this quest may take you years to accomplish?"

Baltor cast his gaze on Tricia before asking, "Will I be allowed to take a good look at the pedestal, the map, and the poetry book? Will I also be given enough supplies to at least get me through the formidable desert? For example, camping supplies, a weapon of my choice, some form of reliable transportation, plenty of water and dried rations, and one hundred parsecs, so I can buy any other traveling supplies I may need down the road?"

She answered, "Yes, we shall oblige you in all those things you requested."

"Then my answer is yes, my Mistress, I shall take the quest."

Tricia replied with an elated tone of voice, "Excellent! Tomorrow morning at nine, Varce will meet you at your barracks. This man is in possession of the poetry book and your duplicate copy of the map; he shall also be your translator, teacher, and your guide to the guarded location of the pedestal. When he arrives, the two of you will need to coordinate your busy schedules around each other for the next two weeks—only when Varce is with you can you visit the pedestal, or view the book and-or map. Two Moondays from now, you shall depart on your quest with the duplicate of the map. Show it to no one when it becomes your possession and defend it with your life. Understood?"

"Yes, my Mistress," Baltor replied. He rose to his feet, bowed one last time before the High Council, and turned to leave. Once he had neared the exit, he heard Tricia call out his name.

He spun around and then asked, "Yes, my Mistress?"

"Tell absolutely no one about the details of this top secret mission either."

"I won't, my Mistress," he said before he departed for the training area to do a couple hours of exercises.

For about thirty hours the following week in the library, Varce gave Baltor a crash course in interpreting the strange-looking runic language, though there was not a lot of material to work with. Just about twenty holding-on-by-a-thread pages of poetic material that contained less than a thousand words—for a language that could have millions of words. Not once had they gone to the cavern with the pedestal, which was something Baltor greatly wanted to do.

Once the second week had begun, Varce took Baltor to the cavern for the first time—of course, they had to pass the two guards, whose orders came directly from the High Council only to allow these two men to enter.

Upon entering for the first time, Baltor noticed that this cavern was indeed three times the size of the training cavern—its natural beauties mesmerized him for the first minute or so. Even more astonishing was the fact that not a single rock or stone within the entire cavern had dropped from the earthquake, except for the immediate area in front of the entrance itself. Adding to the beauties was a lime-green mildew that covered all of the stalactites, stalagmites, and even the ground surrounding this abstractly shaped lagoon that took up half the cavern. Far out of reach of the potentially damaging properties of the mildew, there rested the white pedestal that looked exactly as Tricia had described.

He and Varce went to work right away—at first observing, then thinking, then debating, and then fiddling with the pedestal for the remainder of the day. Despite all the hours they spent, they learned nothing else. Late that night they went their separate ways, in which Varce promised to be at Baltor's barracks at seven in the morning so that they could return to the pedestal and check it out some more after a good night of rest. Then they could explore the entire cavern out, including at the bottom of the lagoon, to discover any more clues. Then they could carefully investigate all of the surrounding tunnels leading back to the Guild.

Unfortunately, they learned no other clues on their eleven different appointments, which proved to be very disappointing to the both of them.

Not disappointing at all to Baltor, he spent these occasions learning a bunch of other useful information, besides the strange language taught by Varce. This man was an unbelievably intelligent man in his early fifties.

Near the end of their final appointment at the library, the day before Baltor's scheduled departure, Varce confided only then that he would have gladly taken the mission had he been twenty years younger. Baltor did not know what to say, so he just shrugged his shoulders.

Varce laughed a few times heartily before saying, "Well, I must be off, young man. Good luck to you in your quest!"

"Thank you, sir, I sincerely appreciate the help," Baltor said.

"No problem. Take care," Varce said just before he bowed, turned around, and exited the library.

Baltor wasted no time heading for the barracks. There, he ate dinner, lay down, closed his eyes, and fell asleep right away. After all, he had to wake up very early in the morning.

Once morning had come, a girl who carried a sealed-with-wax scroll in her right hand arrived at his bunk.

In a hushed voice, she ordered, "Baltor, wake up. I have an important message for you to read; it comes directly from the High Council."

Baltor sat up in bed, extending his right hand. She handed him the rolled-up scroll. Right away, he noted that the wax bore the official emblem of the Guild.

While she waited in silence, he cracked the wax, unrolled the scroll, and silently read:

' _We—The High Council—have voted and deemed that because of your usage of the word weapon and not weapons during your briefing, you are to begin your mission with only one weapon—a weapon of your choice from amongst our massive arsenal. If you happen to run across any weapons after you've left Pavelus, you may keep those._

Furthermore, we have packed onto your mount all the supplies you shall need for your trip through the desert, including a sleeping bag, utility knife, flint, tinder, rope, food, water, toiletries, a week's worth of socks and underwear, two pairs of boots, and even several traveling outfits with turbans. Your former Drill Instructor Humonus even volunteered to double-check that you shall have everything you need. Therefore, ensure that you do not try to sneak any weapons with you when you leave for your mission. Our messenger will be watching you closely.

Once you have finished reading the last word in this letter, get dressed, eat your breakfast, and follow her to the training cavern. There, give her your weapon of choice. Then the two of you will head for your mount that will be parked in the parking lot outside. Then you may proceed with your mission.

In part, we do apologize for any inconveniences this may have caused you, but really, you should think of this all as we do—a challenge!

Good luck with your TOP-SECRET mission,

_Masters and Mistresses of the High Council_.

P.S. Don't forget to burn this letter upon completion.'

As soon as he had completed reading the letter, he got out of bed, walked over to the burning candle sitting on the lunch table, and burned the letter. He then walked over to his wall locker, unlocking and opening it. His eyes glanced at the weapons sitting inside that he specifically purchased for this mission, including the longsword sitting inside a metal sheath, the longbow, the sheath holding forty arrows, and the two foot-long daggers. His mind thought with irritation for a few seconds about all the setbacks that most likely originated from Salmot, but of course, he did not let his eyes betray a single emotion.

His eyes next glanced at the backpack sitting at the bottom, containing a bunch of clothes, toiletries, and other supplies he had specifically purchased for this mission, but because he trusted Humonus, he took a deep breath and relaxed.

He dressed as fast as he could into his brand-new traveling outfit with a matching turban and boots; everything was tan-colored. He next attached a weapon sheath to the belt of his pants that consisted of two links of a waterproofed-steel chain—the top link looped around his belt strap. The bottom link could house many types of swords, especially the weapon he had already picked for his mission. And of course, the girl watched him carefully throughout.

The second after he had closed and locked his wall locker, nearly a minute later, he walked over to the lunch table and ate a hearty breakfast. Following, he looked over at the girl, cocking his head toward the training area. Understanding the gesture, she nodded.

He forthwith turned around and exited the barracks—she followed.

Upon reaching the training area, Baltor walked over to one of the racks, picking up a three-and-a-half-foot-long saber that had a two-foot-long, dual-edged, razor-sharp, curvy blade.

After testing out the saber out for nearly a minute and discovering that everything about it was still perfect, he extended the handle to the girl. She took it before leading the way to the parking lot.

Along the way, Baltor thought more about the suspect who was guilty of causing this to happen—where he only had one weapon and none of the supplies he had picked for this mission—it had to be Master Salmot. However, he also realized that there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it, so he might as well think of just about everything as "an extra challenge."

Exiting the main doors about fifteen minutes later, he observed a larger-than-average camel standing on the granite path about sixty feet away. Standing around the camel and chatting happily away were three people he knew all—too—well: Varce, Lydia, and Humonus. Thus, Baltor was sure that this camel was his mode of transportation.

All three were unaware of the messenger and Baltor's presence coming their way, or so they made it seem.

Halfway there, Baltor noticed that in between the camel's two humps, there rested a leather saddle topped with thick pillows. Firmly latched onto the sides of the seat were four large leather duffel-bags—two on each side—as well a dozen gallon-sized leather canteens. A large backpack hung on the back of the saddle, as did a leather sheath that attached to the saddle's right side.

Varce seemed to be the first person to spot them approach, as he extended his hand out, cast a warm smile, and declared, "Hey Baltor! Glad you made it. Before I leave, which I must here in a second, I wish you good luck. I hope and pray that I have been of help to you in your most noble quest, my friend!"

"Thank you, Varce, you certainly have," Baltor replied sincerely as the two men briskly shook hands.

By this time, the messenger had slid the saber into the sheath before heading back for the palace.

Once they had released the handshake, Varce nodded one final time to Lydia and Humonus before departing on his merry way.

Baltor—with a slightly suspicious look—had already turned to face Lydia before asking, "So you came to see me off, as well?"

"Of course, Baltor," Lydia replied, throwing him a tight hug of her own. "You're a great friend of mine!"

Baltor felt a little unnerved by the hug, but he did not return that hug. Instead, he asked with quite a bit of sarcasm, "Aren't you afraid that your boyfriend will become upset by your public display of affection?"

Although Lydia didn't release the hug, she defended, "Salmot has done nothing wrong."

"That's who your boyfriend is? Seriously?" was Baltor's indignant and loud reply. With a cluck of his tongue, he shook his head while adding, "Then I sincerely suggest that you let go of me—especially with someone like that!"

Lydia grew visibly offended and hurt by his comment, and so she let go. She looked at Baltor for only a second longer—with that same look—before walking briskly for the palace's front doors. Meanwhile, both men silently watched her until the guards closed the doors behind her.

Only then did Humonus turn to face Baltor before saying, "You should watch what you say to people, especially to a member of the High Council. Clearly, that was a sign of disrespect!"

While Baltor jabbed his index finger toward the last spot they had seen Lydia, he retorted, "It is my belief that she disrespected me by manipulating me and my feelings from the get-go!"

Humonus did not respond to Baltor's accusation but waited for him to lower his hand first. Once so perhaps ten seconds later, he said consolingly, "Baltor, she didn't use you. She loves you, but not in that way—she looks at you like a little brother. Many times during your training, she came to me and asked about your progress, though she did not have to do this. In my opinion, had it not been for her, you would still be a vagrant on the streets, and quite probably, dead."

With anger still etched on his face, Baltor climbed onto his camel and grabbed the reins.

"Baltor, Baltor, Baltor," Humonus said. "You will have plenty of time to consider my words of wisdom. Perhaps by the time you return, you will understand."

Baltor was about to snap the reins, but Humonus grabbed them before he could.

After releasing a sigh of resignation, Humonus said, "Before you depart, there are two crucial things I need to tell you, which Mistress Lydia, fortunately, revealed to me before your arrival. The first is that your map and new ID are safely tucked away in this pouch."

Baltor asked with a sneer, "She told you about the map?"

"Only that there is one—"

Baltor interrupted, "Why'd she tell you classified information?"

Although a shocked and hurt look crossed Humonus' face, he answered the question with a question, "Why—don't you trust me anymore?"

"Of course I do, Humonus, I'm just quite a bit surprised. The High Council did classify this mission: Top Secret."

"Maybe she's the type of woman who can't keep her mouth shut?" Humonus once again answered with a question.

After a short pause to contemplate his friend's words, Baltor said, "Maybe. So what was the second thing you had to tell me?"

"Something that was told to you long ago—there are double agents within every guild, including our own. You can bet that there are others besides me who know that you have a copy of the world-map on you, and who shall attempt to steal it from you along the way! Not so much because of the listed treasure but the map itself that's probably the greatest treasure of them all! Be careful!"

"Humonus, my friend, I'd like to thank you once again for your words of wisdom. I shall guard the map with my life."

Without another word, Humonus let go of the reins.

Baltor was about to snap those reins but refrained. Instead, he looked back while asking, "Oh, Humonus?"

"Yes, Baltor?"

"Would you please do me a favor?"

Humonus answered, "You name it, my friend, and it shall be done."

"Please tell Lady Lydia that I'm sorry for the way I just behaved? I'm just, I'm just—"

Humonus interrupted, "You're just in love, Baltor. I shall tell her as soon as you are gone."

"Thank you, my friend, and goodbye."

"Goodbye to you, my friend."

Baltor looked ahead to the gates and was about to snap the reins for the third time. He stopped upon hearing Humonus yell, "Oh wait—Baltor!"

Baltor looked back to his old friend before asking. "Yes?"

After pulling an object out of his front pocket, and holding it inside his closed left fist, Humonus said, "I have a gift for you."

"What?"

Humonus extended his closed fist out in front of him before saying, "Take it."

Baltor reached his right hand out, catching the golden object. As he gazed at it closer, he perceived it to be an eighth-inch-thick gold necklace that had a gold arrowhead as its ornament. He then said, "Thank you."

Humonus asked with a sly smile, "So you like it?"

"I love it—thanks, my friend!"

"So that you know...there is something extraordinary about that arrowhead."

"No way!" Baltor realized aloud with chills that ran up and down his body. His gaze strayed to the scar on his right forearm.

"Yup," Humonus replied with excitement. "Let it always be a reminder to you that you can accomplish anything if you set your mind to it."

While the man had been speaking, Baltor donned the necklace and gazed at it once again adoringly. It was just big enough where if he looked down, he would always see it.

Humonus concluded, "Goodbye, my friend. You come back soon now, you hear?"

With a single tear that streamed from Baltor's right eye and down his cheek, he looked back over at his friend while replying, "I will! You know, I think the Guild should make you an official master! Hopefully, long before the time I come back, which I will, they will see this as well and make it so...Master Humonus."

With that, Baltor looked back to the gates, flicking the reins on the camel to spur it on.

A minute later, the guards opened those gates.

Baltor departed the property, steering his camel eastbound down the road. All the while, Humonus watched in silence until his friend was gone before entering the palace.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Baltor rode down a street filled with a variety of upper-class shops. There he spotted a blacksmith shop containing beautiful weapons of all types sitting on shelves in the front-window, but he fought the temptation to cheat in purchasing any of them, especially a bow-and-arrow. Besides, he figured someone in the Guild was probably watching him anyway.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, he had begun to approach the first of the inner-checkpoints within the city. After pulling out the new ID that stated he was an "upper class" man with the name and title of "Lord Poleax," he handed the paperwork to a guard. The guard handed it over to his sergeant, who then checked to make sure that it was valid.

Baltor knew that if things didn't match up with anyone leaving or entering any section of the city, the guards could close and lock the five-foot-thick solid steel doors in seconds, while other guards blew the "particular horn call" alerting the other sections to shut their doors right away.

Thankfully, the supervisor handed the ID back to Baltor only a couple of seconds later while saying, "You may pass, Lord Poleax."

Baltor nodded his head a couple of times before moving to the next part of the city. Nearly two hours after having departed the palace, he passed through the last checkpoint—the three-hundred-foot-tall walls—before riding out into the vast, hot, and dry Sharia Desert.

Two riders on horseback followed behind him several hundred feet away, in which he had first peripherally noticed them fifteen minutes earlier, though he did not make this detection apparent. Without looking back even once, he continued to ride eastbound.

A total of sixty minutes had passed before his ears heard the sounds of hoofs galloping his way—he sensed that his followers were now ready to attack.

Once he approximated them to be about a hundred feet away, he tugged back upon the reins with both of his hands. His camel stopped.

Baltor used his left hand to pull the reins sharply to the left, causing his camel to turn in that same direction. At the same time, his right hand had unsheathed the saber before holding it straight over his head.

Although the riders were now about eighty feet away, he noticed that they both still wore turbans and veils to conceal their identities and that they had their swords raised high into the air. The person on the left wielded a weapon in the left hand, while the other person carried a weapon in the right hand.

As they neared to fifty feet from Baltor, the rider on the right pulled the reins hard to the right, causing that person's horse to veer sharply in that direction. At the same time, the rider on the left pulled the reins to the left—the horse turned that direction.

Nearly a half-minute later, both riders stopped their horses at the same time—the first rider was about thirty feet away to Baltor's left, while the other rider to the right was about forty feet.

Baltor realized that they outflanked him and that horses can easily outrun camels, but that was okay with him.

Without fear, he turned his camel ninety more degrees until he could see both people peripherally. He then relaxed his grip on the reins, and his camel halted.

In unison, both riders snapped their reins while crying out, "Hee-yah!"

Based on their voices, Baltor realized that both of them were men.

What seemed only seconds later, these two men drew their swords back, so they could slice their opponent into pieces; at the same time, Baltor crouched on top of the saddle and waited.

As soon as the closest person—the man on the left—was fifteen feet away, Baltor leaped off the camel and flew straight through the air for him.

Once five feet away, Baltor performed a quick roundhouse swing of his saber—the razor-sharp blade chopped off the man's head, causing his body to jerk back in the saddle! In turn, the corpse's hand yanked hard back upon the reins, which caused his horse to stop on a dime, rear its head and body back, and throw off the headless corpse.

At the same time, Baltor's hands had just met the ground to perform a forward somersault—with weapon parallel to the ground. In the next moment, he rose to his feet and assumed the ready position.

While the other enemy rode on by, he swung his sword to slice off Baltor's weapon-wielding arm but missed. He continued to travel in the same direction for a half-dozen seconds before turning his horse around.

Baltor wasted no time running over to the unmanned horse, leaping into the saddle, and then snapping the reins just in time. As his horse proceeded to run, he heard his enemy's sword sing just inches near his left ear.

Whoever this enemy was, he was much more cautious than his dead friend had been and did not pursue. Instead, he pulled back on the reins to halt his horse.

Baltor rode his horse an extra thirty feet before turning it around and challenging, "You want some? Come get some!"

Instead of the man charging in as Baltor had anticipated, he turned his horse around until facing the camel, kicked his feet hard into the sides of his horse, snapped the reins, and cried out, "Hee-yah!" His horse commenced galloping hard and fast toward the camel.

Baltor now realized that his enemy's goal was not to kill him at all, but to take the map! Therefore, he snapped the reins on his horse while kicking his feet into the stirrups.

As the man rode by the camel a few seconds later, he extended his free hand out, ripped the pouch off the saddle, and snapped the reins.

Baltor was only about forty feet behind, all the while kicking his stirrups, to get his horse to gallop even faster. Fortune smiled on him, as his horse ultimately turned out to be a bit faster than his enemy's horse—for, with every passing second, he drew nearer.

The man periodically glanced back, but when he saw that his enemy was about fifteen feet behind him, he waved his sword around the air in warning.

Baltor, on the other hand, had sheathed his saber. After one final snap on the reins, he crouched on the saddle, let go of the reins, and leaped into the air at his opponent. His arms and clenched-up hands remained extended straight out in front of him as if he could fly!

In the next moment, his fists pulverized hard into the man's back just before the rest of his body did. This action caused both men to fly off the horse and crash to the ground, as did their weapons and the pouch!

For the next several minutes to follow, the wrestling was on. Unfortunately, just like when Baltor had battled Thesmul, this enemy was far more skilled, soon gaining the upper position—this time with fingers already clutched around Baltor's throat and squeezing...murderously.

Unlike the time Baltor had fought Thesmul, he knew what to do when this scenario happened—he thrust his knee as hard as he could into the man's groin area, pushed him off and then rolled right on top. He then began throwing hard punches into his enemy's face, left and right, repeatedly—perhaps a dozen hits and a dozen seconds later, the man was finally unconscious!

Breathing hard, Baltor removed the veil and turban...becoming so shocked to discover this man's identity that his mouth dropped open—Master Salmot!

Taking a deep breath, he glanced over to the left, spotting only then that his saber lay on the ground in arm's reach. At that moment, his mind realized that he could easily kill this High Councilman, and get away with it by burying him under the sands.

He was about to do just that and reach for the saber, but then his memories began to replay that day—several years ago—when he had run across the oh-so-beautiful Lady Lydia before asking her out on a date. And of course, she had declined his proposal with her words of, "I'm with someone and am deeply in love with him."

For this reason alone, her love for this maggot, Baltor chose not to kill him but not to help him either: he left the man lying on the ground, bleeding and unconscious.

Still, he did pocket Salmot's veil and turban so the man wouldn't be tempted to keep following after regaining consciousness. He next picked up his weapon before rising to his feet and glancing all around.

With great disappointment, he noticed that Salmot's sword was no longer usable because the tip had broken off. Picking up the pouch, he shooed the slower horse away toward Pavelus by slapping it hard in the rear. After climbing aboard the other, he followed the trail back while searching for his camel.

It took about fifteen minutes to locate his camel traveling westbound toward the city. Once near his animal, he dismounted the horse, shooed it away toward the city, climbed into the saddle of his camel, and then the two continued their journey eastward...

More than five months passed—through this very long and mostly dull trip—as Baltor and the camel that he had named Valuspo traveled through hundreds of miles of the deadly Sharia Desert, yet "Lady Luck" blessed them both many times over in quite a few ways.

For one, they ran across nearly a dozen oases, some much larger than others, each consisting of palm trees, shrubbery, and at least one pool of water. There, they were able to wash clothes and replenish their water supplies though not always food supplies, except for the occasional fresh fruits which only lasted two days at the most, which was why he strictly rationed out the dried rations. Before they left each oasis, he always ensured that Valuspo had a chance to eat and drink and that every water canteen was full before they left.

The second blessing was that even though his path crossed several times with different caravans of travelers, especially around the oases, all of them left him alone in peace. Though wary at all times, he never sensed anyone following, especially Salmot.

The third blessing was that despite all the deadly creatures that he had heard roamed about the desert—snakes, scorpions, lions, hyenas, etc.—he next-to-never saw any creatures at all.

And the fourth blessing was that they had run across only four mild sandstorms, which blew in from the west, south, and-or north. Whenever one came about, Baltor quickly covered his face with the veil. He next grabbed one of the blankets as well twenty feet of rope, wrapped the blanket tight around Valuspo's head and long neck, wrapped the rope several times around the blanket at the base of his camel's neck, and tied the rope with a dozen knots so that it wouldn't fly away. Baltor would then throw on two extra layers of clothes, stand in place while holding the reins, and wait out the storm...once it was over, sometimes hours later, they continued their "merry way."

On a geographical note, the first five months and twenty-four days consisted of desert terrains of all types, primarily rolling dunes. Throughout these last two days of travel, however, the sands had sharply risen in elevation, which became interspersed by small to large patches of rock or vegetation, and finally, replaced by rocky hills bearing small random patches of prairie grass, cactus, and palm trees.

## CHAPTER IX

Inevitably came the morning when the sun rose, and Baltor looked eastbound, noting what appeared to be microscopic-looking jagged mountain peaks spread chaotically throughout that entire horizon, approximately fifty or so miles away—the Bospa Mountains.

By noon, and then another ten miles closer, he could even make out a large fertile valley where he and his camel could pass.

Without stopping his camel, he pulled out the map and checked his coordinates. After gazing at it for a few moments, he muttered aloud to Valuspo, "Hmmm. It appears that there is no exact way of knowing where I am on this map. The mapmaker just scribbled a bunch of angled lines to indicate the general shape of the mountain range, while certainly giving no clues as to the best route to pass through them. But that's all good—all we have to remember is that we have to keep heading east, right Valuspo?"

Valuspo turned his head back and grunted in agreement.

Late that night, Baltor decided to stop and set up camp, which passed by without incident. The next morning, he discovered—with happiness—that he had halved the distance to the mountains. Now they looked the size of oranges.

Well into the afternoon a day later, they entered the beautiful, fertile valley in between two groupings of mountains—the shortest mountain stood around nine hundred feet tall while the tallest was about fifteen hundred feet. The valley itself consisted of four-foot-tall patches of green prairie grass that chaotically intermixed with various clusters of lush green trees. All the while, he listened to the songs of birds, primarily sparrows, as they played amongst one another just about everywhere up there in the clear, blue skies.

Up ahead and to his left, his keen eyes soon after spotted several deer that had just started to run away from a small lagoon. He lightly tugged on the reins until his camel faced that source of fresh water.

After arriving at the lagoon, he dismounted his camel and led it by the reins to drink and refill. While Valuspo drank, Baltor pulled out all his water canteens to refill them.

Upon finishing about ten minutes later, he hung them back onto his camel, pulled out some dried jerky from the bag, plopped onto the ground, and began to eat his lunch and drink some water. After the break, he climbed into the saddle, and they pressed on.

It was only when the furious colors of the dusky cloud-filled evening set in that Baltor decided to make camp—for he could sense that his camel needed the rest.

After tying the reins to a tree stump, he compiled together a bunch of dead twigs, branches, and foliage, made two piles, collected a bunch of rocks, and placed them around one of the piles. Right up against the grass, he briskly and repeatedly struck his blade against the flint until the grass had begun to smoke. Once smoking, he ever-so-gently blew on it, until the mini-fire began, and then he set that grass directly under the pile of twigs. Once the campfire was going full blast, he sat six feet away and stared into the flames.

However, as Baltor continued to listen to Valuspo loudly munch on some grass, his stomach started to grumble yet again. He stood up, pulled out a piece of jerky from the saddlebag, and determined that he had a dozen meals left. He grabbed one and began to gnaw on it.

Moments after having started to eat the jerky, "a brilliant idea" crossed his mind—hunt for some fresh dinner before nightfall!

So with haste, Baltor used all of his tracking and hunting skills—in ten minutes time, he tracked down and caught an unsuspecting animal by the ears. Although the size of a rabbit, it was a different type of creature he couldn't identify.

After snapping its neck, he headed back to camp. There, he created a poker from a stick, removed the carcass and the guts as best he could with his saber, stuck a poker through its middle, sat down near the fire, and then held the poker over the fire. The food slowly began to roast, emanating a mouth-watering smell.

By the time darkness ruled other than the fire and the countless amount of stars in the sky, dinner was ready, and so he ate his tasty food until stuffed; the leftovers he threw into the fire so other animals, especially dangerous ones, wouldn't be coming to the area while he slept. He next pulled out his sleeping bag and pillow, set it up halfway between the camel and the fire, and laid down in it.

While staring up at the stars, he soon after fell asleep, in which this night passed by without incident.

The next morning just after sunrise, in which clouds and fog ruled three-quarters of the sky, he packed everything up on his camel, eliminated all signs that there had even been a camp, and climbed aboard. Together, they continued their journey deeper into the heart of the mountains. The terrain never stopped escalating higher and higher, yet the temperatures continued to get colder and colder.

By early afternoon, the temperatures had dropped twenty degrees—now feeling about fifty degrees Fahrenheit.

He felt hungry, so after hunting down a rabbit, he set up a campfire, ate his dinner, and went straight to sleep in his sleeping bag. The one time he had awoken in the middle of the night to relieve himself, he guessed that the temperatures were cold enough to snow!

The next morning, he awoke, and they pressed on. The valley continued higher and higher; and by afternoon, he noticed that there were small patches of snow here and there on the ground in between the trees around here that were mostly pine trees.

Soon after, he halted and dismounted his camel to put on an extra layer of clothes and socks, as well to place the sleeping bag on top of Valuspo. After climbing onto his camel, they continued their journey.

Afternoon turned into night, and despite the campfire nearby, the camel was not happy with the weather changes. Though Valuspo stood about seven feet away from it with all of the blankets wrapped on top of his back, he kept snorting his irritations at the cold. Also, a light snow fell from the sky for most of the night, confirming to Baltor that the temperatures were below freezing.

While he fought to fall asleep—because of Valuspo's loud snorts—Baltor realized that his camel did not have enough protection, especially since the weather was only getting worse.

Baltor himself barely had enough weather-protection except when he was in his sleeping bag, or wore it like a coat.

He contemplated on how to attain more protection for both of them, but only one idea surfaced: hunt down a pack of animals before cutting off the furs and making fur-coats out of them to the best of his ability, which wouldn't be that good since he hadn't any fur-coat making skills.

_The furs from what?_ Baltor thought, perhaps a minute after the idea had popped into his head. _I haven't seen any large animals around here, other than those two brown creatures back at the lagoon. His last thought before falling asleep was, I wonder why the Guild doesn't offer a fur-coat making course—I certainly would have taken it. Brrrr!_

The next morning, he awoke—tired. After getting out of the sleeping bag, he had no choice but to rub his hands briskly over his arms and legs to warm them up from the brisk air, while noticing that there was a good one-inch layer of snow everywhere. It had just stopped snowing several hours before he had woken.

All the while, Valuspo shook his head, grunted agitatedly, and pranced around as far as the reins would stretch—all at the same time.

With a sigh of resignation, Baltor decided to let Valuspo go. He first set the backpack, the water canteens, the sleeping bag, the two saddlebags, and the saddle onto the ground. He next opened his pack, stuffing as much as he could inside—food supplies, a half-dozen water canteens, flint, map, ID, rations, fifty-foot rope, and of course, the other empty large bags. On the outside of his backpack, he tied two of his water canteens, as well the sleeping bag. As for the leather sheath, he left that attached to the saddlebag, since he preferred the sheath on his belt.

After hiding the saddlebags, the saddle, and the remaining water canisters in a small grouping of trees, he marked the spot where he had stashed them in his brain. He then slung the backpack on before heading up the trail.

A few minutes later, he laughed in amusement as he could still hear Valuspo following behind. He turned around to face his friend, patted him gently on the face, and then said, "Valuspo, you need to go, boy. Where I am heading, you would not want to go...it's probably going to get much colder than this. You are free." He turned back around and continued to march up the trail while his camel continued to follow.

Perhaps five minutes passed before Baltor laughed over his shoulder, "Well, I can't force you to leave my side, my friend, but I'm willing to bet that you will go soon enough."

Valuspo grunted with irritation, yet continued to follow.

By noon, snow had begun to fall again. Two hours later, two more inches of snow covered the ground and trees. Meanwhile, Valuspo continued to follow behind, even though he complained non-stop.

Night had come before they knew it, but unfortunately, Baltor could find no dry sticks with which to build a campfire. Though he tried to start one with the wet ones, all attempts ended in failure.

Making matters worse, the temperatures had been steadily dropping all day long. Because of the camel's incessant cries, it took Baltor a couple hours to get to sleep that night.

Approximately three hours before dawn, Baltor unexpectedly awoke from his light slumber. The original reason that caused him to return to consciousness was some snow that had melted into cold water, which dripped through his sleeping bag and onto his face.

What got him to pop open his eyes only a couple of seconds later was the sound of an ominous howl that filled the night sky—sounding suspiciously like a wolf! Confirming that something was wrong, Valuspo had just begun to grunt in frightened tones.

After exploding like a volcano out of his sleeping bag with saber in hand, Baltor looked all around while standing in a defensive posture.

Fortunately, the two moons in the sky illuminated the white snow, so visibility was good for about sixty feet or so—of course, he had no time to gaze at them.

Suddenly, coming into Baltor's visibility was a pack of animals circling in—dozens of pairs of eyes illuminating the darkness.

Once they had neared to a distance of thirty feet, Baltor deciphered that they were wolves.

Surprising to Baltor, these beasts did not immediately come in for the attack; instead, they slowly continued to circle closer and closer to their prey—Baltor and Valuspo. Twenty-five feet. Twenty-three feet. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Twelve feet.

Baltor continued waiting for the sign of their attack with saber ready to swing.

As soon as the wolves had begun growling menacingly at ten feet away, the two nearest ones leaped in with fangs and claws exposed!

In a split-second, Baltor cleanly sliced off the head of the first wolf with a sideswipe before rolling directly underneath the other flying beast. As it flew harmlessly over him, he angled his saber up and sliced that wolf's guts open!

Without stopping, he leaped into another roll between his camel's legs, but before he had risen back to his feet on the other side, he saw that two more wolves were already in mid-leap!

Baltor swung his saber upwards into a full arc, instantly killing one, but only slicing through the leg of the other. After twirling his weapon around in a circle one time, he plowed it deep into the guts of the crippled beast. He then somersaulted to his right to protect his camel's front side!

After slaying two wolves with one long swing of his saber, Baltor rolled back to Valuspo's right side, killed one more, somersaulted between Valuspo's legs, slaughtered two more on that side, and then rolled to Valuspo's rear before eliminating another. An eternity seemed to pass as he eliminated beast after beast after beast!

Finally, the last few remaining members of the pack retreated into the night.

Because Baltor knew he hadn't been clawed or bitten one time, he wasted no time inspecting his camel. Thankfully, Valuspo had no injuries either, but one of the blankets lying on him had gotten ripped by a set of wolf's claws, as was he still frenzied.

Baltor gently patted his camel on the neck to calm him down for a minute. Once so, he remarked, "How lucky we both are not to have any injuries, much less killed...we're going to be okay. Hey—maybe I could now make some fur coats for us!"

In response, Valuspo made yet another frightened squeal, this time because of all the excitement in Baltor's last statement.

"Relax, Valuspo," Baltor whispered soothingly. "We're okay." Valuspo relaxed.

Though untrained in the art of fur-coat making, he commenced skinning the wolves with his saber as best he could, in which there were sixteen carcasses overall.

After peeling ten of them, he threw five of the large meat-covered furs on top of Valuspo's neck and back to get his camel warm. Next, he wrapped a medium strip of fur around each of his camel's legs before using a thin strip to secure it to the leg.

Once finished, he proceeded to make himself a fur-coat, cutting slits for his arms and head into the largest fur before draping it over his torso. Like what he had done with his camel, he tied a strip onto each of his legs. Neither he nor the camel made complaints about the blood that drenched their bodies; they were just glad to be warm.

Right after he had finished with this exhausting and frustrating task, he noticed that dawn was filling the skies with ever-lightening colors, that a light snow was starting to fall, ever-so-slowly covering the wolf tracks, and that the sun would probably only be visible for about ten minutes due to the cloud coverage.

Perhaps a quarter-minute later, he turned to face his camel, and yawned, "Well, Valuspo, I guess you'll be coming with me after all, huh, boy?"

Valuspo licked Baltor's face in response.

After wiping off all the drool, Baltor hopped onto his camel's back, grabbed the mane of hair on the back of his animal's neck, kicked his boots lightly into his creature's sides, and they continued on their journey eastbound. He steered by gently tugging the hair whatever direction he wanted to go.

That afternoon, the valley they had been traveling through split into two directions, thanks to an ice-covered cliff face directly to their east, certainly not climbable by a camel. There were only three routes he knew they could go—north, south, or west.

Once at the fork, Baltor halted his camel before looking to the south. This path consisted of rocky terrain that escalated higher into the mountains. Turning his head to look north, he noticed that this route had a declining slope and that the terrain was much smoother.

He wasted no time directing his camel to the north. Once nighttime had arrived, he set up camp, which night passed without incident.

Shortly after dawn, they continued on their journey going north. Several hours later, the path switched from veering downward to upward while steadily becoming rockier and colder.

By afternoon, the temperatures had dropped to about twenty degrees Fahrenheit, and snow steadily fell. Although it snowed all night long, Baltor and Valuspo remained warm all night long, so neither made any complaints as they slept.

After Baltor had woken up the following morning, he noticed two feet of snow on the ground.

He commenced to eating a small breakfast of dried rations before they continued their journey north. The rocky path they were traveling on elevated higher and higher and the air grew colder and colder still.

Late that afternoon, the below-zero blizzard winds had become so tumultuously violent that they began to lift the furs off their bodies—making them both quite cold. Valuspo, had for most of the day, been making grunting noises, to confirm his displeasure.

An hour later and with no sign of the blizzard stopping, which Baltor took that as an ominous sign, he released a deep sigh of exasperation. Because his legs and rear-end were quite sore, he decided to loosen them up by doing some walking as they retreated from whence they had come to find another route. He climbed down to the ground, turned his camel around, and then headed back south. They pushed on through the entire night without stopping.

The snow stopped at three in the morning; and by six, the bright sun had poked itself between two mountain peaks, creating a gorgeous morning scene within this frigid-cold environment.

Unfortunate for Baltor, his eyes, mind, and body were so exhausted and numb that he didn't assess a thing. Around seven in the morning, he climbed back onto his just-as-exhausted camel just before they continued onward.

Not even a minute later, yet without any warning whatsoever, an unseen force had managed to sneak up and crash hard into Baltor, causing him to fall off his camel; a split-second later, he slammed even harder onto the ground with that force directly on top of him!

As he lay on his back, the only thing he knew in his dazed and starry state was that this creature was perched on him, huge, weighed at least a hundred pounds, and as white as snow.

When his senses came to a couple of seconds later, he realized that this creature looked similar to a tiger, yet it had two extraordinarily long fangs that protruded downward. While it sat firmly on top of Baltor's legs, it had already begun to tear through the wolf furs with its razor-sharp teeth to get to the meat underneath—Baltor's meat.

He forthwith launched the hardest punch he could into the cat's nose, to try to get it off him. However, because he did not have the power of his whole body to back that punch up, the cat roared out in anger before throwing a mighty swipe of its massive paw into Baltor's head!

That swipe instantly knocked Baltor "out cold"–no longer able to fight against the wild and hungry cat!

## CHAPTER X

An unknown amount of time had passed before Baltor returned to the state of consciousness. Although he had never forgotten about the cat, he continued to feign unconsciousness because the cat wasn't eating him at the moment nor was it on him. Once he had better assessed the situation by using his other senses besides sight, then he might open his eyes and look around.

First, there was no doubt in his mind that he was still alive while lying on his back, especially because of those awful aches that erupted chaotically through his torso, the pounding headache, and the entire left-side of his face. Second, he could feel a soft, thick, warm blanket that covered him all the way up to his chin. Third, he could feel a comfortable bed underneath him—not the cold, hard, snow-covered ground. Fourth, he continued to hear the sounds of a small crackling fire nearby—not the sounds of howling, cold winds. Even his exposed face felt warm. He knew he was indoors somewhere—somehow!

What he could not fathom with his eyes closed was if he was alone or not. Therefore, he listened attentively, especially for the sounds of any cats or anything else moving about...all he heard were snaps, crackles, and pops.

He cracked open his eyes just a smidgeon before discovering that his vision was quite blurry—and at first, he saw anything and everything times three.

The first thing to capture his attention was the black fur blanket that covered him. Next, it was the bed that he was lying in, which looked like it could fit a giant. Then it was the oak headboard and footboard of the bed itself—etched into both objects was a luscious forest that intertwined with the sky—near the top-right corner of the headboard, there hovered a little sun. Also spread throughout the skies were birds that flew around various-sized clouds; spread throughout the lands were small groups of forest animals, including more birds. In Baltor's opinion, this bed was "an incredible masterpiece."

As his vision slowly-but-surely cleared, which just happened to occur at the same speed that his headache had started fading away, he looked to the right, discovering another bed of the same size and model sitting a half-dozen feet away from his bed. Two feet beyond it was a cedar wall that was about fifteen feet tall.

After looking to the left, he saw a giant-sized rectangular wood table with six wood chairs surrounding it; it all sat in the center of this gigantic room. Two of those chairs were normal in size while the other four looked like giants could sit on them. With relief, he discovered no cats, nor any other living creatures including humans.

Just beyond the table on the other side of this cabin sat the living room, evident by the fur carpet that covered most of the floors. Taking most of the space on this carpet was a giant-times-giant sized, fur-covered couch that formed the shape of a "v." This furniture's opening happened to stop at the same spot where the carpeting stopped, and both objects ended fifteen feet from a roaring fireplace and chimney. Hanging upon a stoker inside the fireplace was a black cauldron—steam continued to pour out of the tiny holes in the middle of the lid.

Within this one-room cabin—floors, walls, and ceiling made of cedar—there were but six frost-covered windows revealing the winter darkness outside. He counted out thirty-eight silver or steel plaques mounted on the walls. Each trophy contained a different type of stuffed predator animal head, but no giant white cats. However, there was not a single living creature to be seen or heard...unless it happened to be hiding behind or under some furniture.

After having looked everywhere once more, he confirmed only one entrance in or out—a ten-foot-tall door made of cedar, and right now, it was closed. Upon closer examination, he perceived a doorknob and a keyhole underneath it.

In the next moment, he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and began to think, _I'm now fairly certain that the cat is someone's pet...someone who commanded it to attack but not kill me...or I'd already be cat chow. Perhaps this someone is a giant? And that after I was knocked out cold, the owner called off the cat before taking me here and depositing me in this bed...but why go to all that trouble? Why order it to attack me in the first place? I mean no one any harm...do I look like a threat? Maybe this cabin is actually my prison—the door and the windows being locked? Perhaps the cat and its owner are guarding that door right now, somewhere outside in that frigid night? Perhaps I am meant to be dinner for this giant...or possibly a family of giants? Maybe...I should check to see if the door is locked in the first place, which will tell me more about my rescuers...or captors. Not that I'm worried about picking that lock...I am a thief. Well, let's go check it out, Baltor._

He tried to sit up in bed and had risen to the point he leaned on his elbows, but by then, the throbbing pains inside his temples had multiplied by ten! Thus, he had no choice but to relax his head back on the pillow, shut his eyelids, and mentally try to block the pain.

As soon as that headache had begun to diminish, perhaps ten minutes later, his keen ears detected the crunching sounds of someone walking through the snow—moving at a quick pace toward the cabin.

Twenty seconds after that, the crunching sounds became replaced by creaking sounds, as that same person walked on the wood porch outside, fast nearing the door.

Baltor shut his eyes into tiny slits while turning his head halfway toward the door—it was his intention to appear unconscious until he had deciphered the nature of this person, peaceful or hostile. He had never forgotten that things could turn dangerous in the blink of an eye!

Only seconds passed before he heard and saw the doorknob twist ninety degrees, followed by the door getting pushed open all the way. A dark silhouette of a giant stood outside on the porch, in which this person's head was an inch or so shorter than the ten-foot-tall doorframe. Moreover, Baltor couldn't help but also notice—still through squinting eyes—that this giant was nearly as wide as the door!

While standing in place, this giant began to stomp his or her snow-covered boots on the porch, and only a moment later, the whole place began to vibrate increasingly from the thunderous impacts by this six-hundred-pound giant—so Baltor estimated.

Seconds later, he or she then stomped into the room that caused still more vibrations, though on a much lesser scale, coupled with the occasional squeaks in the floor.

After the giant had entered into the cabin, Baltor could tell through his slightly-less squints that this never-before-seen man wore a fur coat, hat, pants, and boots—his attire being far different from anything Baltor had seen before. Then it was his white-skinned hands—twice the size of his own. Then it was his clean-shaven, masculine, pale face—it was flawless. Golden blond, thick, and wavy hair not only surrounded his face and gave him bangs, yet his hair reached down to his shoulders. Though Baltor was not interested in men in that way, he still believed that this giant was handsome.

Inevitably, the giant stopped at the table and turned toward it—he was as big from the frontal view as he was from the side.

Baltor's immediate thought became, _He'll be unbelievably hard for me to take out if he proves a threat, especially since I have no weapon_! Even though his eyes only then searched and discerned that the giant bore no visible weapons, his mind asked, _What other weapons could he possibly need other than his gargantuan fists?_

Just after having asked this question, a woman that was only half the giant's size had just entered the cabin, closing the door behind her. _Is she his daughter?_

Like the giant, she had pale skin with thick, wavy, and luscious blond hair, but her hair swam three-quarters of the way down her back—her lovely face looked vastly different from the giant's face. Her attire matched his, comprising of a black, brown, and white fur coat that stopped just above her waistline, a shiny white leather pair of pants, and shiny black boots—everything looking quite fashionable.

This woman took off her coat, revealing a furry v-necked shirt and pants, in which everything snugged tight to her athletic body frame. _Wow—she's hot! She and Lady Lydia could be cousins, or even sisters, as they look quite a bit alike!_

Soon after, she joined the giant at the table just before hanging her coat over the back of the chair. He had just finished the process of emptying a bag containing three giant loaves of bread onto an even larger steel plate sitting in the middle of the table.

The giant looked to his left where the woman stood before mumbling something both short and foreign to Baltor's ears. Without warning, the giant began shifting his head and eyes to his right to look at the bed. By the time he looked that direction only two seconds later, Baltor had his own eyes closed—of course, not moving a single muscle.

After hearing a little rustling sound, Baltor heard the thunderous footsteps getting five feet closer to his position every step. It seemed like only three or four seconds had passed before those footsteps stopped in between the two beds. His ears next heard the giant's voice bellow aloud, "Pasusco—sahu mao brevi!" (1)

Even though Baltor continued to feign unconsciousness, he only then began to doubt that he was successful in his feigning, especially after the giant repeated his statement—yet despite that ever-growing doubt, Baltor didn't move an inch.

A quarter of a minute passed—even though it felt to him like an eternity—before his ears heard the giant boom out toward the woman, "Ta hup gap's shatir lankia snet—bre pato semesa pasusco aspena crish Ta peusna gop retux Ta hatish, ven gap'd cher scarain lexum!" (2)

Upon completing his statement, he commenced to laughing in booming tones.

Perhaps because of the almost-deafening volume, Baltor could not tell if the woman was laughing or not. He drew the conclusion that these people seemed to be "friendly enough," and so he opened his eyes to reveal his conscious state to everyone, for better or worse.

The first thing he observed—with crystal-clarity—was the fact that this giant stood like a tower in between the beds, in which his entire body faced the woman. The second was that the giant had taken off his fur coat. Now he wore a tight, black, leather shirt that clearly revealed his hulk-like muscles—arms crossed underneath his super-duper-sized chest—and a pair of black leather pants.

Baltor's mind thought, _I wouldn't doubt it one bit if this giant is truly the world's strongest, biggest, and tallest man!_

Only then did he notice the amused-yet-friendly expression in the giant's blue eyes that continued to look at the woman as he laughed. Baltor averted his gaze toward the woman, noting that she was smiling kindly back at the giant—she did not laugh. Neither of the two had yet noticed Baltor's conscious state, so he cleared his throat several times on purpose. His sounds straight away drew their attention.

The giant turned just his head to look down at Baltor and repeated his earlier statement but this time at a much-quieter volume, "Pasusco—sahu mao brevi?" (3) His massive shoulders only then rose to their fullest height, as did his thick eyebrows.

Though Baltor did not understand the language one iota, he did comprehend that this giant had just asked a question. Therefore, in answer, he shrugged too. What he did not expect was for his little headache to explode into a migraine, and as a result, become forced to shut his eyes while scrunching his forehead!

The giant broke out into a highly amused laughter. While laughing, he looked over at the woman before saying, "Ta'm pan fe tarisha semesa lankia pasusco's yamas fe grevant!" (4) Because Baltor's eyes continued to remain closed, he did not see that the woman glanced over at him with a tender smile before nodding her head several times in the affirmative.

It was at that moment that two visual images first crossed Baltor's mind—Valuspo, and even more important, the map.

Despite the explosive pains he still felt inside his head, Baltor forced open his eyes before trying to get out of bed. Unlike the previous time, he felt too weak to even prop himself up onto his elbows, yet the explosive pains had reached their zenith! He moaned out the word, " _Ow!"_

The giant uncrossed his arms before gently waving his open-palmed hands up and down a few times. He then said with a gentle tone of voice, "Vikshu sarmani."(5)

Though Baltor did not understand the giant's words, he did comprehend the gesture that indicated he should lie down and rest—he did before closing his eyes.

A few seconds passed before he opened them and looked over at the woman, noticing that she had just begun to walk toward the fireplace—in her left hand, she held a metal ladle and a wood bowl.

Once she had arrived at her destination soon after, she used her left hand to pick up a poker tool that had been leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, turned to the cauldron, and pulled out the stoker with the poker. This last action caused the slightly steaming pot to pull away from the fire. Once done with the poker, she set it back into its original place.

After shifting the bowl into her right hand, the woman used the ladle to scoop some steamy fluids into the bowl, most likely stew or soup. Once half-full three scoops later, she walked toward the table.

Because Baltor had been giving his undivided attention to the woman and not the man, he was not aware that the giant had just finished sliding his heavy four-inch-heeled boots off his socked feet, making him nine-foot-eight, and then sliding those boots underneath the other bed.

The giant next walked toward the table, this time a bit more quietly although just as fast. Upon arrival, he grabbed two bowls off from the table. Meanwhile, the woman had just reached the table, giving the handle of the ladle to the giant—he took it before heading for the cauldron.

She picked up a wood tablespoon from the table before walking toward Baltor's location—by this time, the giant had arrived at his destination to fill both bowls.

Upon her arrival, she sat down within arm's reach of Baltor's head. After half-filling the spoon, she extended it toward Baltor's mouth while asking, "Sahu mao yar?" (6)

Understanding this to be his dinner, he opened his mouth to accept the food, immediately discovering that the spicy flavors of this meat-and-potatoes stew to be wonderfully delicious—surprisingly perfect in temperature as well!

As soon as he had finished chewing and swallowing the food about six seconds later as it melted in his mouth, she had another spoonful of stew ready.

At the same time, the giant arrived at the table. He sat down in his giant-sized chair before setting his bowl before him and setting the other bowl before the human-sized chair on the opposite side of the table. He wasted no time ripping off a chunk of bread with one hand, picking up his spoon with the other, and gorging on his meal; frequently he dunked his bread into the stew before taking a big bite into it.

As soon as Baltor had finished the entire bowl nearly two minutes later, the woman stood up, walked over to the countertop, and set the bowl down on it. She next picked up two mugs sitting on the counter nearby, walked over to a large oak barrel, filled both cups up with the frothy beverage, walked over to the dining room table, and set one mug down next to her bowl of stew. She held the other mug in both hands as she headed for Baltor's location; once there, she even graciously held the cup as he drank down the entire contents of the slightly bitter yet delicious ale.

Once done, the woman walked over to her chair, sitting down on the opposite side of the giant, of who was eating his third bowl of stew and drinking his second mug of ale.

In between taking bites, they began to share some conversation, which Baltor could not understand although he continued to listen for clues—only moments seemed to pass until things grew dizzy and he fell asleep.

The following morning, due to a brilliant stream of sunlight seeping through the transparent glass window and into his shut eyelids, Baltor awoke. Thankfully, there was no trace of a headache, yet his face and torso still ached quite a bit.

Opening his eyes and then darting them around, he saw no signs of the giant, yet the woman was here. She sat on a wooden chair near the fireplace, working on something with her undivided attention.

Without saying a word to alert her, he turned his head to look her way so that he could figure out her project. In her right hand, she held a foot-long pair of sharp metal scissors while cutting a piece of fur into a foot-long square that she skillfully maneuvered about using her left hand. It looked identical to the type he had acquired from the wolves. Once she had finished with that piece nearly a half-minute after she had begun, she discarded the scraps into a wood box that sat next to her chair, and then neatly placed that square piece onto a single pile, in which he counted out approximately two dozen squares.

Upon closer inspection of the stack, he confirmed that they were indeed the wolves' furs and that all the flesh had been cut off the skins.

Just then, his ears began to hear approaching footsteps that moved fast through the snow toward the cabin—the woman never stopped working on her project. Baltor suspected that this person might be the giant, but he wasn't for sure, as he presumed there to be other giants around due to giant-sized chairs in the dining room.

Perhaps a half-minute later, the creaking sounds commenced as someone walked on the porch toward the front door. Upon arrival, that person began stomping his or her boots on the porch, which once again sent vibrations through the cabin.

The door opened, and sure enough, Baltor's suspicions proved correct; the same giant entered the cabin, turned around, and closed the door.

During that brief period that the door was open, Baltor had gotten a little chance to look outside at the picturesque scenery. Various-sized clusters of snow-covered pine trees stood amongst the large rolling patches of snow-covered rolling hills. Perhaps a few thousand feet away that direction, the land sharply dipped below his sights, in which he surmised a big valley existed there. Beyond the valley, perhaps three thousand feet away, hundreds of snow-covered mountains stood with ice-covered and dagger-sharp peaks, although he had only been able to count about a dozen mountains within the perimeter of the doorframe.

Baltor decided only then to sit up in bed and throw a friendly smile. He did and with hardly any pain.

As soon as the giant turned around, he noticed that Baltor was up. Therefore, he threw a friendly wave of the hand before booming out, "Sahu mao anamos vrisha gabor blaka, pasusco?" (7)

Baltor assumed that the giant was asking about his health. He nodded once before saying in Pavelian, "I'm feeling much better, sir."

The giant's face bore an expression of utter confusion for a few moments, but then that look changed to amused before he began to laugh. Once that laughter had subsided, he turned just his head to look at the woman before saying, "Vesna gap prisha bagusaham, brim semesa pagor ana e pesanar vigi brevisto!" (8)

The woman's gaze had fallen to Baltor before she threw a little smile, but she said nothing nor did she chuckle—in the next moment, she looked back down so that she could re-commence with her cutting.

The giant slapped his fist hard into his chest, which loud sound instantly drew Baltor's attention, as well the woman's attention.

Using the index finger of that same hand, he pointed toward Baltor, then toward the door, then toward himself, all the while saying three times in a row, "Gaor tao." (9) He opened the door, stepped onto the porch, left the door open, waved his hand for Baltor to follow, repeated his last statement, and disappeared from view.

Understanding the hand gestures but not the words, Baltor got out of bed, only to realize he was not wearing a shirt or breeches. Fortunately, he wore a clean pair of drawers, though he wondered who had taken them off, washed them, and put them back on. His ears heard the woman say, "Oopsa dooopsa!" (10)

Casting his gaze toward her right away, he noticed that her gaze had already shifted away from him and toward the kitchen table. Her index finger pointed to one of the kitchen chairs for about five seconds.

Neatly folded and sitting in that chair, he saw his socks, shirt, and breeches; his boots sat underneath that chair on the floor. He almost found it funny he hadn't seen his clothes earlier.

After looking back at the woman once more, he noted that her eyes remained locked on her job.

While gingerly walking toward the chair, he noticed—for the very first time—that ugly multicolored bruises covered eighty percent of his chest and shoulders, yet surprisingly enough, there were only six minor scratches on his chest and belly. He knew without having to look that the left side of his face and head were bruised badly.

Once there, he proceeded to get dressed, in which he could tell that someone had washed everything—even his gold necklace and arrowhead had been polished and buffed.

Following this task, he turned in appreciation to face the woman, but since she looked busy and he did not want to bother her, he cupped his hands together in a gesture of appreciation, bowed his head for a moment, and exited the cabin.

Once outside, he closed the door behind him before taking a good look around. Someone, probably the giant, had built this beautiful giant-sized log cabin at the top of an enormous hill inside of a gargantuan-sized valley that had many dimensions to it...overall, dagger-sharp ice-covered mountains surrounded the entire valley.

At the lowest level, just beyond a large forest of pine trees, there stood at least a hundred more giant log cabins spread all about—each cabin looked unique and beautiful. The one thing they all shared in common was the continuous swirling smoke that puffed out from each chimney and up into the crisp blue skies above.

Due to his mind begin mesmerized by this "quaint town," his ears did not hear the giant approach from behind and tap him on his shoulder.

Baltor had become so startled from feeling the tap—that he leaped instinctively into a sideways roll, only to land back on his feet in the basic ready position and facing the giant. These actions, however, caused an incredible amount of pain to surge, especially in his forehead. His hands had no choice but to tightly cup themselves over his forehead while his mouth moaned aloud, "Owww!"

Though the giant bore a dumbfounded expression on his face upon seeing Baltor's maneuver, only a second or so passed before that expression turned to amused; he proceeded to laugh with that booming laughter.

A few additional seconds had to pass before Baltor's pains receded to the point where he could open his eyes—he did.

The giant stopped laughing shortly after that, bearing a serious look. He pointed the tip of his thumb toward his face before saying, "Yaush."

Understanding this to be the giant's name, Baltor nodded his head a few times. He next pointed his left thumb at his face while saying his name, "Baltor."

With a cock of Yaush's head toward the backyard, he boomed, "Baltor, pasant gaor tao, jaosaim. Gaor tao—gaor!" (11) He turned around, waved at his new friend to follow, and then began to walk around the house to the back.

Of course, Baltor followed. Once they stood in the backyard nearly a half-minute later, he realized it to have the overall space of about two acres, in which the base of a massive mountain jutted out of the ground that defined the perimeter of the property. Lying inside this spacious area sat a huge barn, as well clusters of sporadically placed pine trees.

The giant had already reached the door to the barn, in which he waited in silence for his friend to come close. Once this was so shortly after that, he opened the main door to the barn before beckoning his friend to enter with a wave of his hand.

As soon as they were both inside the barn, the giant closed the door.

Already had Baltor counted out six stalls; three to the left and three to the right; the first two on the left had a normal-sized horse sticking its head out, though the far booth looked empty, as did all the stalls on the right.

Yaush perceived it when his friend's head had turned toward him in confusion, and so he pointed with his index finger over to the last stall on the left.

As Baltor neared it, he noted that all of the stalls were quite large, ten feet wide by twenty feet long. Hidden inside the very booth the giant had pointed toward—lo and behold, he discovered his camel standing in the back and eating away on some hay. Baltor instantly became joyous to see his camel and friend alive and well!

Valuspo appeared to be equally joyous to see his master. When Baltor leaned over the stall, the camel marched right on up and slurped a big fat juicy kiss on his smiling face.

While Baltor spat out a few pieces of hay from his mouth, Yaush again burst out into booming laughter.

A few seconds later, Baltor looked over at his new friend and joined him in the laughter, even though he had to spit a couple more times in between to get the remaining strands of hay out.

Soon after, the air turned serious, and both people stopped laughing.

The giant slapped himself hard in the chest, said his name, "Yaush," pointed at his own eyes with both of his index fingers, and added, "kahusho." Finally, he jabbed the same fingers toward Baltor's direction while saying, "Baltor." (12)

Baltor nodded in understanding that Yaush had "seen" Baltor.

After taking a deep breath through just his nose, Yaush continued, "Yaush kahusho scarain—scarain." (13) He then demonstrated what "scarain" meant by baring his teeth, making a growling noise, and clenching his hands open and shut. Once done with his demonstration, he again said, "scarain."

Baltor nodded in understanding that Yaush had also seen the giant white cat—scarain.

Yaush next said, "Yaush mansuon scarain." (14) He demonstrated what "mansuon" meant by fisting both hands directly in front of his chest, side to side. While keeping his left fist in place, he drew back the other fist. Once it had evened out with his chest, he opened that hand by spreading all his fingers outward, followed by his mouth making a "zinging sound," followed by a "clicking sound."

Baltor nodded in understanding that Yaush had shot an arrow into the beast, and judging from the enormous size of this giant, most likely killed it in one shot.

Yaush confirmed his friend's suspicion by pointing his index finger to his temple, and rolling his eyes into the back of his head for just a moment before saying, "Yaush banari scarain." (15)

Even though Baltor was ninety-nine percent sure that Yaush had said he killed the scarain—he was one hundred percent sure—and equally grateful—that the giant had saved his life.

Because Baltor didn't know how to say "thank you" in Yaush's language, he cupped his hands together in front of him at the abdominal level and threw his head into a bow, to express his sincerest appreciation. He hoped his physical gesture was considered respectful around here; like in his land.

Yaush walked close enough to clamp his huge right hand upon his friend's left shoulder before saying, "Gemne mao." (16)

Although Baltor did not understand the words Yaush had just spoken, he threw his gaze first to the same shoulder for a moment before casting that gaze at Yaush's face. The giant was looking down and smiling—Baltor smiled back.

After letting go of Baltor's shoulder and taking a step back, Yaush cupped both hands out in front of him, bowed his head for a second, and then said, "Gemne mao, Yaush." When he said his name, he commenced smiling.

Baltor now understood how to say "thank you," and so he confirmed, "Gemne mao, Yaush."

After nodding his head affirmatively twice, Yaush pointed his index finger at his friend, and said, "Mao sahu vlaidim, Baltor." (17)

Baltor assumed that this meant, "You are welcome."

If he was right, besides the very few phrases he had learned, he had just figured out two important keywords: "mao" meant "you," and "tao" meant "me." Furthermore, nodding your head means, "yes," and so he nodded his head a few times. He wondered if shaking the head meant "no."

A round of nodding and smiling occurred between the two men. Soon, however, Baltor began to feel uncomfortable from his friend's deep-deep staring. He cast his eyes toward his camel's stall, noting with happiness that two of his possessions sat in the far-right corner on the ground, one on top of the other—1) his saber 2) his unopened backpack. With an elated expression, he looked back at Yaush.

The giant, after a chuckle, walked over to the stall and unlatched the door. Instead of opening the door all the way—because he assumed that the camel would probably try to run away—he only opened the door a sliver before looking at his friend.

Baltor, on the other hand, knew better; he put out his hands directly in front of him, left hand in front of the right. He began to wiggle his index and middle fingers back and forth a dozen times, indicating a moving animal.

Once he had stopped wiggling his fingers a few seconds later, he clenched his fists and shook his head negatively, trying to suggest that his camel wouldn't run away. Finally, he pointed at his camel with his right index finger while introducing, "Valuspo."

Understanding, Yaush fully opened the door to the stall, and after entering, he tenderly patted the camel's face while cooing, "Visha blaka fe mao, Valuspo. Tai, mao sahu yuits e rescha chirsa, po larse eithen po vixtes!" (18)

While Baltor assumed that Yaush's first statement was either "hello" or "good morning," the only clue with the second statement was that it must have been "some compliments," for Valuspo's head reared back quite proudly while his eyes equally reflected both "pride and happiness."

The camel abruptly slurped Yaush in the face, which caused Baltor to burst out laughing; and a couple of seconds later after spitting out the hay in his mouth, Yaush joined in the laughter.

A few moments later, Valuspo looked a bit confused, and let out an excited " _Annhhhgggrrrrhh!_ "

The camel's abnormally loud sound caused Baltor and Yaush to burst out laughing heartily. Because of their laughter, the camel continued to make those strange noises, which in turn caused the two men to laugh even harder...where tears poured out of their eye sockets and down their cheeks. It took a grand total of three or four minutes before the out-of-control laughter finally subsided!

While still wiping the tears from his eyes and chuckling, Baltor walked over to the saber and backpack and knelt down on one knee—the giant continued petting and talking to Valuspo.

Baltor picked up the saber, set it down next to the pack, and opened the bag. He grew relieved upon discovering that everything sat inside exactly the way he had left it. After sliding a bunch of items around, he became even more joyous to notice that the map still sat in its original place at the very bottom.

He henceforth slid the items back into their original place and shut the backpack. After setting the saber back down onto it, he stood back up onto his feet and turned around.

Yaush noticed the furtive movement, turning his head to look at his friend. After pointing outside the open stall, he said, "Gaor tao, Baltor." (19) He exited the stall, walked to the outside of the stall door, and put his hand on the door latch.

Understanding, Baltor exited the stall while watching Yaush close and secure the door.

The giant turned before heading for the entrance to the barn. Baltor followed.

By the time they both stood outside, Yaush closed the barn door before marching for the front of the cabin.

Once both men had arrived on the front porch, they stomped off all the snow, although Baltor barely had any snow on his boots and thus he was done first.

As soon as Yaush had finished stomping all the snow off his feet about ten seconds later, he opened the door, and gestured for his friend to go inside first—once so; he entered before closing the door. He then said, "Baltor."

Baltor, who now stood near the dining room table, turned around. Meanwhile, the woman had just looked up from her task. Yaush pointed at his nodding head, and said, "Gav."

As Baltor figured out that "gav" means "yes," he asked one question in all eight languages that he fluently spoke and understood, "Can you speak this language?"

In the end, however, Yaush and the woman's confused faces and heads that shook "no" showed that neither understood a single one of Baltor's eight languages.

Shortly after his friend had stopped speaking, Yaush stopped shaking his head to say, "Busk." (21)

Baltor began to look frustrated, so the giant rubbed his stomach in tiny circles, and asked, "Yar?" (22)

Baltor nodded his head in the affirmative several times, as he understood the sign language that Yaush was asking him if he was hungry.

The giant nodded his head while confirming aloud, "Gav." He then shook his head from side to side and said, "Busk."

"Gav," Baltor replied.

Yaush pivoted his entire body to face the woman while noticing that she continued to gaze at Baltor. He then asked, "Pia, prisha maotaos casaom leama fe briska vas Baltor? Gaps yar, Jimnee." (23)

While gesturing to the fur coat, the woman looked at the giant before replying, "Aprica busk, Ta've casaom optan suara vusko pren fretha rastuten vas gop sen gep chirso." (24)

After a short pause, she pointed her index finger toward the door while suggesting in the form of a question, "Yaush, nenso prisha't mao marsa gop fe _Peov Baeus?_ " (25) Without waiting for a reply, she looked back at Baltor; and as she saw he was looking at her, she pointed at herself and said, "Jimnee."

With a hearty laugh, Yaush slapped himself lightly in the head. He then rolled his eyes in the back of his head several times before saying, "Baltor, Jimnee. Jimnee, Baltor!"

Baltor nodded and smiled at her for a few seconds. He next walked over to her with hand extended—though she took his hand in hers, she did not shake that hand before releasing.

At that moment, he remembered how to say "thank you" in their language, and so he said, "Gemne mao, Jimnee."

With a mild look of surprise, Jimnee promptly responded, "Mao sahu vlaidim, Baltor." (26)

He was one hundred sure she said, "You're welcome," so he nodded his head a few times while still bearing a friendly smile.

Right after the giant had opened the door, he slapped himself hard into his chest, which action drew Baltor's attention back over to him. He said, "Gaor tao, Baltor." (27)

"Gav," Baltor said just before following the giant out the door.

Once they stood outside on the porch, Yaush closed the door. He then led the way down the hill, through the forest, into the village itself, and then into the busiest section of town. Dozens of people walked here and there.

Other than the children, Baltor came to realize that all the adult males stood between six and nine feet tall, while the adult females happened to be around five to six feet tall—most had pale skin with blond hair, but a select few had red hair. In all of his days, he had only seen one "blondie" before yesterday, and that was Lydia—and only once had he seen a "carrot top," Thesmul. Today, he had counted out four redheads, so far.

Though many of the townsfolk threw inquisitive looks at Baltor, none of them said anything directly toward him. Instead, they threw friendly waves and-or smiles while greeting to Yaush, "Visha blaka fe mao, Yaush." (28)

Each time, Yaush responded back similarly.

Baltor assumed that they were saying "good morning" to each other. However, as he did not want to accidentally offend them by pronouncing those words the wrong way and be saying something else that might be an insult, he threw friendly smiles and-or nods into their direction—always did they return those smiles.

Finally, the two men arrived at a restaurant, in which a wood sign hung above the door that had some foreign writing etched on it and the picture of a roaring bear in the middle. The only reason that Baltor knew that this place had to be a restaurant was from the smells of foods cooking and the loud chattering going on inside.

The giant entered the restaurant first with his friend following right behind.

The very second that the patrons saw "the stranger"—the chattering died down and everyone stared at Baltor in blank silence.

Yaush stepped to his friend's side before placing his hand lightly on Baltor's shoulder. With his other hand, he extended it out amongst the patrons while saying with quite a bit of excitement, "Partastucia, caloph hup tai laka jaosaim, Baltor! Baltor, calophin sahu vusko tai visha jaosaims!" (29)

Even though Baltor didn't a clue as to what Yaush had just said, he did understand as the bulk of the patrons greeted back, "Visha blaka fe mao, Baltor!" (30)

Baltor felt a bit sheepish from all the attention, yet managed to respond, "Visha blaka ve mao."

Several in the crowd laughed at Baltor's mispronunciation, yet they went back to their business—eating and-or chatting.

Yaush gestured toward an empty table with four chairs nearby and said, "Baltor, haso." (31) Without waiting for a response, he walked over and sat down in one of those chairs.

Baltor sat down in the chair opposite his friend.

Within moments, a strawberry-blond-haired girl approached their table; she held a serving tray in her right hand that held two see-through glass mugs of cold water. His immediate opinion was that she was so cute and adorable; his jaw dropped a couple of inches.

The girl's gaze, however, remained locked upon Yaush. With a wonderfully sweet voice that made Baltor's heart pump even harder, she said, "Visha blaka fe mao, Yaush!" (32)

Yaush answered, "Po visha blaka fe mao, Yeea." (33) He next introduced, "Baltor. Yeea. Yeea. Baltor."

They nodded at each other with a shy smile for the next few moments to follow.

Once that period had ended, Yeea set a mug down in front of each guest, looked at Yaush, and asked, "Mensa pagor Jimnee?" (34)

Yaush answered, "Sap pagor peov—gemnes vas bagusa!" (35)

Yeea looked at Baltor before smiling and saying, "Visha blaka fe mao, Baltor." (36)

Baltor's brain suddenly lapsed as his heart took all the blood—he had already forgotten how to say "good morning to you" even though she had just said it to him.

As if psychic, she repeated, "Visha blaka fe mao."

With a sheepish smile, Baltor looked back down at the table before muttering, "Visha blaka fe mao."

Yeea's gaze fell over to Yaush before asking, "Larsa Yaush, lamars trisha Ta eutra mao po maos jaosaim vas brasha?" (37)

After the giant had pointed his index finger several times between Baltor and himself, he answered, "Trisha maotaos pasant casa cal barags vigi runags, paomche po richita, mentos oansa manati alasvo leeta, pasant?" (38)

Yeea replied with excitement, "Onas lea!" (39)

Although Baltor remained lost because he did not understand their conversation, he listened anyway. All the while, he kept looking at the table because he was feeling quite a bit shy because of Yeea. That is, until Yeea had relayed her last statement, causing him to throw his glance back up at her.

She purposefully threw a wink and a smile directed at Baltor before leaving for the kitchen to place the order.

Once she had departed, he averted his gaze back up toward Yaush, noticing that the giant had already begun to look nonchalantly around the dining room. Just in case he might have some more of his language to teach, Baltor mainly kept his gaze on him, but he did periodically look around at the people or the decorations inside the room, or drink sips of water.

A minute later, Baltor couldn't help but notice a look of amazement that crossed Yaush's face as soon as he looked at the front door.

The giant stood up a few seconds later, causing the sounds of his chair to screech on the floor, before saying with excitement, "Salami!"

Baltor looked that direction, noticing a thin and lanky eight-foot-tall giant who had just entered the restaurant and closed the door. His neatly groomed facial beard and long braided hair was mainly dark-red intermixed with a hint of silver; the gaunt-shaped skin on his face and hands possessed a light tan. He wore old dark-brown leathers throughout—even his wide-brimmed hat and boots came from the same exact leather material.

With a gesture of his hand toward the empty seat next to him at their table, Yaush asked this giant, "Salami, tai aserti jaosaim, yosbe mao pasant sakti maitai vas brasha?" (40) He sat down in his chair.

At this point, Baltor assumed that Salami must be this man's name.

After answering the question with "gav," Salami began to approach Yaush and Baltor's table.

Halfway there, Yaush added, "Salami, caloph hup tai blaka pasusco, Baltor. Mit hrai semesa tai jaosiam trisha ara loots e valon otra illansis, sot gap trisha net ara Valakanese. Ta, lerta e breta oaste fretha yamika, trisha retis ara mautau wersa dravinsky. Yosbe mao pasant aserti po kahusho shari mao trisha ara cas vigi gap illansis, tai jaosaim?" (41)

Just as Yaush had finished speaking, Salami had just gotten comfortable in the empty chair next to the big giant.

At this point, Salami puckered his lower lip out just a bit while scrunching his thick auburn eyebrows for a few moments. He then nodded, looked over at Baltor, and tried speaking in three different languages, none of which Baltor understood. The one thing that Baltor could tell for sure was that they sounded like questions.

Finally, on the fourth attempt, Salami asked with a very thick accent in Thoriumite, "Do you know this tongue?"

Baltor beamed a smile that reached from ear-to-ear before replying with just as much excitement in the same language, "Yes!"

The man introduced with a broad smile, "My name is Salami—what was your name again?"

"My name is Baltor."

Just then, Yeea arrived while carrying her serving tray that carried two full mugs and two heaping plates of steaming food—cheese and sausage omelets—a fork stabbed into each omelet. As she began to set everything onto the table, Baltor smelled a pleasing and spicy aroma that made his stomach growl in desire. He couldn't help but glance down at his food.

Salami asked, "You are from Thorium, yes?"

Baltor looked up to both of the giants sitting at his table. He then answered, "No I am not from Thorium, but I do speak Thoriumite fluently. To answer your question, I'm from Pavelus, and Pavelian is my native language; as a matter of fact, I can fluently read, write, and speak eight languages."

Salami commenced to interpret right away.

Since the three men were completely delirious at the breakthrough in the language barrier, no one noticed the wistful look in Yeea's eyes—her eyes had remained locked onto Baltor the entire time since she had left the kitchen.

Even after Yeea had completed setting everything up, perhaps a half-minute ago, she continued to stand there and stare at him, hoping to get his attention. Perhaps ten seconds later, a disappointed look abruptly crossed her face because Baltor hadn't even glanced at her once, and now she had just begun to think that the "unexplainable chemistry" she felt for Baltor "wasn't mutual." In the next moment, it dawned on her that she still had one other table to tend to, so she turned to leave.

Just as she was about to take that first step, Yaush noticed the movement. He asked, "Yeea, al puor, pasant?" (42)

She spun around to face him before asking with a hint of excitement, "Gav?" (43)

Yaush asked, "Salami, lamars yosbud mao jamir vas brasha?" (44)

Salami turned his head to look at her while asking, "Ta'll casa yani laos're casaoman."(45)

Yeea's eyes betrayed a bit of disappointment just before she said, "Onas lea..." (46)

Her tone of voice instantly drew looks of confusion from all three men, as none of them could fathom the reason for her disappointment.

However, no one could ask why either, for she had already took off into the kitchen with tears pouring steadily out her eyes.

In unison, the three men looked at each other in utter confusion while simultaneously shrugging their shoulders; from all the parallelisms, they burst out laughing.

Yaush became the first person to stop laughing a quarter-minute later, and now he looked serious. He asked Salami a short question (47) before taking a giant bite of his food.

Salami interpreted the question, once more in Thoriumite, "Yaush wants to know what brings you through these parts."

Baltor answered, "I am on a quest." He took his first bite of the delicious omelet, and both his stomach and his taste buds craved more.

Due to Baltor's interesting response, Salami now had a curious look on his face. However, instead of probing further, he interpreted the response to Yaush.

Yaush nodded one time before saying something with excitement to Salami. In turn, Salami interpreted to Baltor, "We are a people of peace, but we know that other people are not for peace. Do you understand, and are you for peace?"

Baltor could only nod as he had just taken a big bite. Once he had swallowed the remaining bit of food in his mouth, he said, "Gav."

Yaush appeared to relax, for he picked up his fork and stuffed some more food into his mouth.

Salami added, "Even though Yaush has never left Valakan, I am a world traveler and businessman myself. I have even been to Pavelus several times on business. While there, I had to hire a Pavelian translator, as I know only about a dozen phrases in your language. Anyway, enough about me. My personal question for you is this: Is your quest for Sultan Brishavus Helenus, perhaps to expand the Sharia Empire in this direction?"

Baltor finished taking a long draught of the sweet juice before he looked at Salami, shook his head, and answered, "No—Busk. My quest is my quest—certainly not the Sultan's quest. I was trying to pass through these mountains and toward the jungles before I got jumped."

Already bearing a look a curiosity, Yaush tapped Salami, who in turn interpreted what Baltor had just said.

Yaush almost choked on his food as he had begun to laugh. After managing to get it down the right pipe, yet still chuckling, he said something lengthy to Salami.

Salami immediately interpreted, "Yaush says that you were very, very lucky! He says that he was hunting for food when he saw you laying on the ground—a scarain sitting right on top of you, already tearing into you with claws and teeth! How do you say scarain in your language?"

"White tiger with very long fangs."

"Ah....white tiger with very long fangs."

Baltor threw his gaze at Yaush, bowed his head for a second, and said, "Gemne mao, Yaush." (48)

Yaush nodded his head a few times, and then he said something else lengthy to Salami. Afterward, Yaush took another bite of food.

Salami interpreted, "Yaush says that you can stay at his home as long as you like. He says that his wife Jimnee is making you and your camel the proper gear to travel safely through these mountains, but he does not know how long her task will take. He says that once you have finished your quest, you are more than welcome to return at any time. He says that though he does not know why: he likes you."

At that moment, a six-and-a-half-foot-tall man—obviously the cook due to the dirty apron he wore—brought out a serving tray. A plate of an omelet stuffed with sausage and cheese sat on it, as well a full mug.

After having swallowed another mouthful of his food, Baltor said, "Gemne mao, Yaush." He took another large bite.

The cook laid out the order of food in front of Salami, but he did not leave. Instead, he, Yaush, and Salami shared a conversation, in which Baltor understood none of it. (49-53)

The same moment that they had finished their conversation, Baltor had finished everything on his plate—his stomach felt overstuffed.

"Gemne mao, Paelsho." (54) Yaush and Salami replied in unison to the cook—and immediately they began to roar out their laughter from yet another parallelism.

Baltor looked quite confused resulting from the "second bout of laughter" without him involved, and so he asked Salami a few seconds later, "What's going on?"

After Salami had stopped laughing, he explained, "Oh—just a misunderstanding. Remember when the three of us were laughing a bit ago? Yeea, our waitress, thought we were all laughing at her right after she had taken my breakfast order, which was just a big misunderstanding. Yaush explained to Paelsho, the cook, that we were really laughing at ourselves!"

"That's true—by the way, gemne mao, Salami."

"For what?"

"For taking the time to explain to me what's going on."

"No problem, Baltor. You, I can tell, are a good guy!"

"Gemne mao," Baltor answered with a smile.

By this time, Yaush had nearly finished eating his meal, yet Salami had only eaten a few large bites overall—seven-eighths of the food still sat on his plate.

Yaush took a break from eating to say something to Salami. Salami used this opportunity to wolf down a couple more bites of food.

Once Yaush had finished speaking, Salami nodded his head, looked over at Baltor, swallowed the remaining food in his mouth, and interpreted, "Yaush wants me to tell you one more reason why he likes you."

Baltor asked, "Why's that?"

Salami answered, "Because...you are trying to learn our tongue. Most foreigners never make that attempt. They try to make us learn their tongue." With that, he pushed back his chair, causing his chair to screech on the floor. He stood up from the table before saying, "I will be gone for most of the day since I have important errands to tend. Later this evening I will stop by Yaush's home, and we talk some more, okay?"

With a nod, Baltor replied, "Gemne mao, Salami."

Salami tossed some foreign currency on the table, heartily waved his hand a few times, and said, "Taumaploth." (55)

Baltor figured this meant "farewell" and repeated the word, as did Yaush just before he stuffed the final bite of his food into his mouth.

Salami turned around and exited the restaurant.

After swallowing the food, Yaush stood up, deposited some currency onto the table, and said, "Gaor tao." He walked toward the exit, and of course, Baltor followed.

Shortly after they made it back to Yaush and Jimnee's cabin, the two men began to target practice in the backyard, using a metal lightweight longbow and wood arrows with metal tips. Yaush was quite impressed with Baltor's "bull's eye" shooting skills; in turn, Baltor was just as impressed by the giant's monstrous power and accuracy. His arrows shot through the inch-thick wood targets before impaling themselves in a tree, or in the ground.

That evening around eight, Salami stopped by the cabin.

The four of them shared a great tasting dinner that Yaush had whipped up in the frying pan—mutton and potatoes. _Delicious!_

After dinner, Yaush gave a mug of ale to everyone, except for Jimnee—already had she begun to work like there was no tomorrow in the far corner of the cabin. Periodically, Baltor watched in amazement while she sewed like a pro, but not by hand.

She used a high-tech sewing machine, and by pumping her right foot repetitively onto the foot pedal sitting underneath it on the floor, power was supplied that allowed the sewing needle and thread to sew the fur skins together. Never had Baltor seen a machine like this before!

A good portion of the "friendly and intelligent conversations" that the men shared with each other consisted of Yaush explaining—via Salami's translations and Yaush's actual demonstrations—that he was the inventor of that sewing machine, as well quite a few other ingenious inventions.

Baltor pointed out—late, late that night—that the time had come for him to "go to bed," since he had to leave early the next morning.

As soon as Salami had interpreted this piece of news, Jimnee immediately made him explain that she had just finished making Baltor his new hat, coat, pants, gloves, and boot covers. Furthermore, she wanted him to try everything on, just in case she had to alter something.

Shortly after that, Baltor stood in front of the mirror admiring his new clothes. They seemed to fit over his regular clothes for the most part. Jimnee visually scrutinized these clothes just before saying something to Salami.

Salami interpreted right away, "Jimnee told me she needs to make a few alterations still with your clothes. As for your camel, she will use the scarain's fur to make him a blanket for his back, as well leggings, in which everything should be complete by the time you leave after breakfast."

Baltor looked right into her eyes for a moment or two before saying, "Gemne mao, Jimnee."

"Baltor, mao sahu vladim, tai jaosaim," Jimnee replied happily.

He had no doubt she said, "You are welcome, my friend!"

Before they knew it, the night grew late, so Salami left.

Moments later, Yaush fell asleep in one bed, while Baltor slept in the other. Jimnee continued to sew on through the rest of the night...

## CHAPTER XI

Shortly after waking up at the crack of dawn, the trio ate a warm, hearty porridge breakfast that Yaush had cooked in the cauldron. The giant smiled to everyone in between slurping down his porridge but said not a word.

Jimnee—totally exhausted from working all night—appeared tired and haggard. She mindlessly stared at her bowl of food the whole time while consuming it at a slow pace.

Baltor, on the other hand, had not slept this great in months, thanks to the soft bed. Because of the language barrier, he silently ate his porridge that proved to be delicious or smiled back.

After breakfast, they each grabbed an armload of furs sitting in the corner of the cabin before heading for the barn. Once standing inside the camel's stall, they deposited those furs on the ground.

Without a word spoken, Yaush picked up two large empty bags before walking to another booth to pack them full of hay for the camel to eat later.

Yawning all the while, Jimnee began to lay the scarain fur rug over Valuspo's back before using two long fur-strips to tie that rug snugly around his waist.

Baltor wasted no time walking for the corner of the camel's stall, where his gear still sat. He picked up his saber and sheath, looped the sheath on his belt, knelt down on a knee, opened the pack, and examined everything inside. Not surprising to him, nobody had tampered with anything.

He tucked the map inside his shirt, stood up, spun around, and walked toward the camel.

By this time, she finished her task, realizing only then with happiness that the blanket fit perfectly. She next began the process of lifting up one of the camel's legs before putting on a legging and then using leather string to secure the blanket and legging together; of course, Baltor assisted as best he could.

Once they had put the last legging on, Yaush entered the stall. Now, he carried two full bags, in which he had tied the mouth of each bag closed with the ends of one piece of rope about five feet long.

He set down the bags onto the ground just before a look of remembrance crossed his face. After snapping his fingers one time and pointing his index finger straight up, he ran out of the stall—Baltor understood he needed to wait a minute.

Thus he cast his gaze over at Jimnee, observing that she had begun making cooing noises while petting Valuspo's face. His camel, he noted, looked and sounded quite thrilled at all this attention from a female.

Nearly a half-minute later, his ears heard stomping noises grow louder and louder as the giant rushed into the stall. Looking over, he saw—with surprise—that Yaush carried a bunch of items on him. Hanging over his right shoulder was a leather saddle with a thick fur pillow sewn onto it. Hanging over his left shoulder were a bunch of thin leather straps attached to a steel mouthpiece, appearing to be a new set of bridle and reins. And in his left hand, he carried the same longbow they had used the day before for target practice, as well a wood quiver filled with about fifty arrows.

The giant said not a word but began to whistle a chipper tune just before setting the bow and quiver onto the ground. He next picked up the saddle before throwing it on the camel's back in between his humps; once set, he knelt down on a knee, grabbed the ends of two of four straps under the camel's belly, and buckled them together before buckling the other two.

Because Baltor did not know enough of their language to ask, he wondered in silence, because of the weapon, if the giant had plans to go hunting after some wild game later that day.

Once secure, the giant grabbed the bridle and reins, walked in front of the camel, and began to secure them around the camel's mouth, all the while continuing to whistle.

Baltor used this time to walk over to his backpack, pick it up, walk to the side of Valuspo, and tie his pack to the back of the saddle.

By then, Yaush picked up the bow and quiver, walked around the camel until he stood next to Baltor, and set the quiver right-side-up into a pouch sewn into the side of the seat.

Because this quiver slid in and fit in perfect, Baltor doubted that any arrows would ever fall out, even if riding at full gallop.

The giant still had more to do, with his tune and his task, as he secured the center of the longbow into an iron clamp bolted into the side of the saddle. This demonstration took a single second.

That is when he stopped whistling, glanced over at his friend, and pointed toward a little latch sitting to the side of the clamp. He then made a low-to-high pitched whistling sound before flipping the mechanism.

In milliseconds, the clamp sprung open wide so that the bow dropped into the giant's waiting hands—he raised the bow back and pushed it back into the clamp, yet without having to flip that little lever, the clamp secured the bow with a click. He released his grip.

Needful to say, this high-tech gadget astounded Baltor—he had no doubt that his new friend was "a genius amongst geniuses!"

Yaush looked over at his friend, smiled, and bowed his head for a few seconds. When he looked up, he continued to smile.

Thankful for all the wonderful times multiplied by all these useful gifts, Baltor cupped his hands together and bowed his head for just as long. When he looked up, he declared, "Gemne mao, Yaush, tai jaosaim!" He proceeded to smile.

"Mao sahu vlaidim, Baltor, tai jaosaim," the giant boomed back.

The two men briskly shook hands for about a quarter-minute. Yaush's hands were a little more than double the size of Baltor's hands.

Upon releasing the handshake, Baltor walked over to the bags of hay, picked them up, lifted up the backpack, and then threw the bags right behind the saddle yet before the final hump—evenly, of course.

No longer in the slightest suspicion of his trustworthy friends, he pulled out the map, held it out in plain view, and cleared his throat several times.

Yaush glanced at it for about twenty seconds. On the twenty-first, he pointed his finger at a spot in the middle of the Bospa Mountains, again saying the name of his village: "Valakan."

Nodding his head while looking at the map, Baltor noticed that the mountain pass from east-to-west was shortest at this town's latitude and that Pavelus lay on the same latitude but far to the west. However, there were no dots at all anywhere around Valakan, which meant the mapmaker did not know about this town...if it even existed a millennium ago.

"Gemne mao, Yaush," Baltor stated cheerfully before tucking the map into one of the large pockets in the saddle.

The giant snapped his fingers before pointing to the pile of furs lying on the ground outside the stall—Baltor understood that he needed to get dressed into his cold-weather attire, so he nodded affirmatively once.

Yaush ran out of the stall and down toward the first stall on the right before entering it.

At the same time, Jimnee stopped petting the camel to help Baltor get dressed in the furs.

The same precise moment that they had completed this task, nearly a minute later, Yaush arrived. He carried two wood water canteens, as well a full leather bag about the size of a watermelon. After shaking both canteens around to show that they were empty, he set them into one of the saddle's pockets. He then opened the bag at the end, showed the jerky to Baltor, sealed the bag, and put it in the same pouch.

Baltor extended his hand out to the giant while saying, "Gemne mao, Yaush. Taumaploth, Jaosaim!"

Mao sahu vlaidim, Baltor. Taumaploth!" Yaush sang while shaking hands again with his friend.

Once released about five seconds later, Baltor looked at Jimnee one final time, saying, "Jimnee. Gemne mao, Jaosaim. Taumaploth."

She remained silent, except for throwing a warm smile, a nod of her head, and a wave of the hand.

Baltor mounted his camel and flicked the reins just before riding out of the stall, the barn, and finally the town of Valakan.

During this first morning of travel—spent in total comfort and warmth for both he and Valuspo—he recalled all the hospitalities and wonders of these people. He promised that he would come back and visit; maybe even on his way back from the tower.

At noon, they came upon a small frozen lagoon. There, Baltor broke through the thin ice with his saber before filling up his canteens. While drinking a half container down, he led his camel up to the watering hole, but Valuspo refused to drink. He then offered a handful of hay, but as the camel also declined that, he climbed into the saddle, and they continued on their way.

That quiet day turned into a dull week; and throughout this period, the mountains and the valleys descended lower and lower at a rather steep incline, sometimes too steep in which they had to backtrack and find another route. Finally, they reached the foothills of the mountains that interweaved with the dense jungle beyond. Frequently he heard the sounds of exotic birds singing somewhere up in the luscious trees, though rare was the time he saw them.

As soon as the weather had become hot, humid, and sticky, he took off all of the furs—from his camel and himself—stuffing them and the map into one of the bags. Although he continued to sweat profusely without the fur on, he did not complain. Neither did Valuspo make any complaints.

That afternoon, they ran across a pack of monkeys—some swung from tree to tree while others played, and still others ate bananas or bugs off each other. He had seen many species of this animal in Pavelus before, but they usually sat in cages. He watched these monkeys in silent amusement for about five minutes before he and his camel continued on their trek eastbound.

Not even an hour had passed before they came upon a river, perhaps an eighth-of-a-mile thick. Fortunately, it did not appear to be deep anywhere, no more than waist-high at some locations. Just to be on the safe side, Baltor dismounted, kept a firm hold of the reins, and entered the river first—Valuspo had no choice but to follow.

Seconds after they had begun wading through the river, Baltor dunked all the way underwater for a few seconds to cool off before standing back to his feet—it felt great!

Ten minutes later, they exited on the other side of the river. Once on dry land, he refilled the water canteens, and gave one final opportunity for Valuspo to drink—the camel refused.

After examining his hands and seeing they were dry, he pulled out the map from the bag, glancing at it for a minute.

According to the map, this jungle was one and a half times bigger than the area of the mountains, and the tower appeared to lie somewhere in the smack center. Baltor said, "Indeed, it may take many years to find this blasted tower, if ever."

Valuspo turned his head back and snorted.

Baltor laughed at his friend's response before rubbing the side of his neck for a few seconds. He next stuffed the map back into the bag before climbing back into the saddle. Together they headed toward what he guessed was the jungle's center.

After stopping for the night, an hour or so before sunset, he had just begun the process of compiling a bunch of dead branches for the campfire when he once again became "incredibly lucky!" The tail of a giant green snake suddenly lashed down from the trees to try to ensnare its prey!

Baltor instinctively rolled out of harm's way a millisecond before the tail could get a death grip on him. Only once he stood on his feet again did he see that the long tail was already halfway up and quickly rising back into those trees.

Because he did not want to take a chance at throwing and losing his saber in the brush, he ran over to his camel to retrieve his bow and several arrows. However, by the time he had the first arrow notched in his bow, he could see no trace of the snake.

While still looking up, he said to Valuspo, "It appears that we are going to have to be extremely careful, my friend! Who knows what else lies around here?" This time, the camel did not make a sound.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before they entered a small clearing with short grass. At this point, Baltor decided to make camp here, and so he dismounted his camel, tethered him to a large branch, and gathered a bunch of twigs and brush; five minutes later, he had a small fire going. He plopped down on the ground about ten feet away from the fire and commenced to eat dried rations, while his camel chewed on some grass. The saber sat in arm's reach to Baltor's left and the bow and quiver to his right.

As sunset approached, he began to hear some loud screeching sounds, in which they strongly resembled bats; but just in case they might be vampire bats that he'd heard about from a couple of other thieves in the Guild, he had an arrow notched into his bow and ready to shoot.

Over the trees, they flew—hundreds—no thousands of them, and their screeching grew irritatingly loud—small bats; fortunately, none flew near Baltor and Valuspo.

By the time that the last one had flown by, many minutes later, stars now twinkled in the darkening sky. The gray crescent moon had just risen above the eastern horizon, though the red moon was not in sight.

With a yawn, he once again relaxed, sat back, and finished his dinner. Soon afterward, he fell asleep.

The next morning, he awoke, repacked the gear, and they continued going east. By noon, he noticed that the foliage was beginning to get too thick to ride through.

Inevitably, he had to walk ahead of Valuspo while slicing through the dense foliage with his saber to pass through it all. By sunset, the foliage had only grown progressively worse. From all the hacking and slashing, he found that even his strong arms were getting extremely fatigued!

After clearing a twenty-foot-diameter with his saber, he set up a small campfire, ate his dinner, sharpened his weapon with the flint, and then lay down to go to sleep in his sleeping bag—physically and mentally exhausted.

Sometime during the night when the gray moon had begun to descend, and the red moon had just risen, he awoke to painful, stinging sensations in about a dozen different areas throughout his body, especially the one on his forehead and the one on his left forearm! Nearby, he could hear Valuspo snorting in irritation, as well.

With eyes still closed, he slapped at the one on his left arm as it hurt the worst, thinking it to be a mosquito. However, his hand discovered a small bump that was slimy and cold. He opened his eyes and looked at the spot. Though the campfire was already out, the moons' light allowed him to see a black wormy creature clinging on his skin; he knew it had to be a leech now.

He tried to pull it off, but this only caused him more pain. "Ouch!"

Again, he tried to pull it off, which produced the same painful result—Baltor swore, "Damn it!"

Working through the dizzy spells, he stood up, retrieved a branch, and stuck it in the embers of the campfire until hot. Then he took the end of the stick and pressed it into the leech.

It let go of his skin, dropping to the ground. It took several more minutes for him to remove the remaining eight leeches, and then he proceeded to work on separating the dozens of leeches attached to Valuspo.

Once done, he extinguished the fire, climbed on his camel, and they continued to ride until the foliage had cleared out.

After the sun had risen the next morning, Baltor examined his wounds more carefully, noticing a small stream of blood that had dried up from each bite mark; fortunately, none looked infected.

He looked to the eastern horizon, spotting an enormous prairie that lay ahead. Scattered throughout the eight-foot-tall patches of grass were large boulders chaotically stacked upon one another. Circling this five-mile-long grassland, he could only see jungle trees.

Interestingly enough, a pack of black-and-white-striped horses grazed on grass to the northeast about two miles away—perhaps thirty of them.

He pulled out a piece of dried jerky and the map. While nibbling, he glanced at the map. Because the mapmaker had not drawn any prairies on it, Baltor had no way of knowing his position, or if he was even going the right way.

For the first time since beginning his quest, he grew exasperated to the point that he contemplated throwing away this useless map, but changed his mind because of the runes written on it that may ultimately prove to be crucial to the success of his mission. He put it away in the saddlebag.

After glancing around one final time, he spurred on his camel; the two began to cross the prairie. Halfway through, however, he began to get a funny feeling that they were being watched.

He halted his camel before standing up in the saddle and looking all around; even after a minute had passed with him still surveying, he still had not found any indication of a threat. He sat down in the saddle and lightly snapped the reins.

Three-quarters of the way through the prairie, his sharp eyes detected for the very first time—and for only a split-second—some black creature running rapidly between two huge patches of tall grass to the south about a hundred and fifty feet away.

Although he pondered sitting there and using his bow and arrows for a couple of seconds, he realized he would only get a shot or two before the creature would have the chance to attack.

Baltor sat down before snapping repetitiously on the reins and kicking his feet into the stirrups to get his camel to gallop. Once so, he withdrew his saber and had it ready to strike, just in case there might be more of those sneaky creatures around here. In his mind, he formulated a plan of defense by using the horses as a distraction; that is if he could get near enough to them.

He snapped the reins yet again while yelling at the top of his lungs, "Hey!"

Hearing the sound, most of the horses stopped eating to look his direction.

Peripherally, Baltor spotted the creature only a second later darting between a different patch of prairie grass and a stacked group of boulders, in which these boulders were currently about eighty feet away from him and his galloping camel. This time, he could identify the type of creature, as he had seen one before sitting in a cage in Pavelus. Unfortunately, this panther was not locked in a cage.

As he snapped on the reins to get his camel going even faster, he yelled out toward the horses, "Hey! Hey you!"

Following the yelling, every single horse stared at the intruder; several had just begun to prance around to warn away this new threat.

By then, Baltor had ridden his camel seven-eighths of the way through the prairie. The panther continued to chase them down—now about forty feet behind—drawing closer by the second.

"Hey you—yeah! I'm talking to you! You better start running!"

The horses had had enough—they commenced to run away, though the wrong way.

Still, the distraction worked for a moment as the panther slowed its pace to look over at the horses. In the next moment, this predator decided that it would get its next meal from the two closest preys, and so it quickened its pace back to full stride.

As soon as the panther thought it was near enough to strike about ten seconds later, it lunged at the galloping camel. However, it had calculated wrong as its claws missed Valuspo's rear legs by only a few inches!

Upon seeing this, Baltor realized that the only way to get rid of this panther was to fight it on foot—so he did. He lunged out of the saddle with saber in hand. When his hands hit the ground, he somersaulted before assuming a defensive crouched position.

Surprised by the unexpected action from this prey, the predator slid to a complete stop—only two feet away from its prey who continued to stay still. For five seconds, the two looked each other squarely in the eyes.

Hunger overtook the panther, and with a growl, it attempted to throw a swipe with its front-left claws to finish off its prey, only to realize with a whole lot of pain that Baltor's saber had just sliced its front-left leg in two pieces!

It roared out in excruciating pain but did not get a chance to do anything else, as the saber ripped through its abdominals and all the way up to its throat! The panther died instantly.

Baltor scanned his horizons until finding his animal that had stopped about a hundred and fifty feet away to the southwest. He whistled loudly for his camel to come to him before scanning once again, just in case there may be more panthers around.

After Valuspo cautiously returned a minute later, Baltor sheathed the saber before climbing back into the saddle—and they rode east to the border of the trees.

By the time they had arrived at this location only three minutes later, Baltor had found only one small path that barely looked to be travelable with his camel's long stride. This route chaotically wound itself around thick barrages of interweaving roots that sprang out of the ground from gigantic trees—most of these trees were about forty feet thick and about a hundred feet tall.

They took the path. Just before turning past the first major bend that would block the view of the prairie, Baltor looked back one last time. He noticed that vultures slowly hovered closer and closer onto their treat.

An hour later, he began to suspect that something was not right, and so he scanned his horizons. Though he could see nothing wrong, neither was there any of the typical jungle noises.

Ten minutes later, he noticed a twelve-foot-thick tree about sixty feet ahead that had long ago fallen, which blocked his path and the view of what lay beyond.

When he drew closer, however, he realized that it was not a dead tree at all, but actually, many exposed roots that sprang from one single living tree—a colossal tree that stood nearly two hundred feet tall and thirty feet thick. The nearest part of this trunk to him happened to be about fifteen feet to the south of the path, while its roots gradually extended and lowered themselves back into the ground, approximately ten feet to the north of the trail.

While noticing another cluster of roots from the same tree that sprang in the southwestern direction, he admitted aloud, "Wow...I've never seen a tree this big!"

After having chosen to go around the northern end, he steered his camel cautiously around all of the roots, which took them about ten minutes to get beyond it all.

What he saw on the other side caused his mouth to drop open in shock—for lying on the ground several hundred feet away was a child who appeared to be dead as he or she did not move at all! From this distance, he could tell that this person had black skin and wore a grass skirt and sandals, but he could not determine the age, height, or gender as this child faced the other direction. Never before in Baltor's life had he seen a black person.

He proceeded to steer his camel for that area to investigate further—all the while; he remained ready to grab either his saber or his bow, depending on the situation.

Once about five feet away, he halted his mount and looked down at the corpse. This was no child but a four-foot-tall man, evident by the hairy chest and the scruffy beard—a midget to be precise. He also noticed that blood still poured from a plum-sized hole in the middle of his chest and down the side of his body before amassing into the ground—something or someone had killed him within the last twenty minutes.

To be on the safe side, Baltor decided to draw his saber—he did. He was just about to scan his horizons, but then his keen ears ever-so-barely detected the soft sounds of crunching leaves coming from somewhere far to the southeast. His eyes darted that direction, just in time to see four black midget-men who ran northbound about five hundred feet away—none of them carried any weapons in their hands, nor did they even look Baltor's direction.

In fact, they disappeared back into the recesses of the jungle only a few seconds later, at which point the sounds of crunching leaves quickly faded until the area returned to complete silence.

He scanned his immediate vicinity more thoroughly, discovering directly to the south about fifty feet away that there were two additional corpses laying about ten feet apart from each other. Their bodies were mostly hidden behind another cluster of roots.

After pondering for a couple of seconds whether to investigate but then deciding not to as they had probably died the same way as the first corpse, Baltor lightly snapped on the reins so he and his camel could keep traveling eastbound. All the while, he continued to listen for any sounds, apart from the ones coming from Valuspo's hoofs stepping onto the ground—Baltor's saber remained ready to strike.

A minute or so of silence passed, until suddenly, from deeper within the jungle directly to his south, a bird cawed loudly, "Cee-cee-caw-caw!"

Following that bird call and for the next few moments to pass, he could hear no other noises, except for the footsteps made by the camel.

That silence ended at the same time that the sounds of crunching leaves began. After halting the camel, Baltor looked over just in time to see another midget running northbound, probably chasing those other men.

This three-foot-seven man looked different from any of the others in the fact that he had chalky-white stripes painted all over his face that made him look savage and wicked—more important than that, his right hand carried a long spear that had colorful feathers attached under the spearhead.

Upon seeing Baltor for the first time only a few seconds later, the savage halted. He next cawed using the same exact bird calls, "Cee-cee-caw-caw-caw-cao-cao-cao!"

With his left hand, Baltor sharply yanked Valuspo's reins to the left, so that his camel would turn that direction until his saber was clearly within the man's eyesight. Baltor's goal was to intimidate this savage from coming closer.

However, the black-skinned man did not appear to care whatsoever that this brown-skinned man wielded a weapon, for he began to run straight for Baltor while cawing progressively louder, "Caw-caw-caw-cao-cao-cao!"

Once within throwing range a few seconds later, the savage cocked his spear back before launching it as hard and as accurately as he could!

A split-second before the tip of the spear could sail through Baltor's chest, he deflected it with his saber, causing the spear to fly harmlessly away. He then twirled his weapon several times around in a tight circle before stopping this movement and assuming the ready position.

The man screamed in extreme anger but did not approach any closer.

Baltor remained in place, as well.

Only a few seconds seemed to pass before at least two dozen face-painted savages arrived, coming from out of the woodwork and surrounding Baltor's location—almost all wielded spears while the remainder carried foot-long bamboo reeds. The tallest person in the group happened to stand at about five feet tall, while the shortest stood about three feet tall.

Because these savages kept their distance at varying distances ranging from thirty feet to one hundred feet, Baltor sheathed his saber before grabbing his bow and an arrow. Before he could even notch the first arrow, he felt a sharp stinging sensation in the back of his neck, which caused him to drop the arrow!

Instinctively, he reached out with his free hand, discovering a thin needle poking out of his neck. While pulling it out and dropping it to the ground, his mind strongly suspected and worried this dart might be poisoned with a lethal dose!

His head promptly started to get dizzy while his vision became blurry; the number of little people tripled in number.

Seconds passed but never did any of these savages draw any closer. Instead, they began to "caw" repetitiously.

Before he could snap the reins so he could escape, he fell off his camel and crashed to the ground—no longer conscious!

## CHAPTER XII

An unknown amount of time later, Baltor returned to consciousness and with a splitting headache. After opening his eyes into a little squint, he discovered that his vision was incredibly blurry.

Despite his partial blindness, he could distinguish that the skies above were crystal-clear blue, along with a bright yellow sun hovering in the middle of it all. He could also clearly tell that he was lying on the cold, hard, and uncomfortable ground. What felt far worse than the ground were the venoms still coursing through his veins, especially around his neck area, feeling like a horde of scorpions had stung him!

Through the intense pain, he checked to make sure there were no other darts in his neck—there weren't. His hands only then felt the golden arrowhead necklace still hanging around his neck, in which he felt relief that no one had taken it.

After the blurriness had begun to recede, he turned his head to the right to figure out his location.

He inevitably counted out twelve midget-men, all without white makeup on their black faces—eleven wore grass skirts while the last person in the far-left corner wore a loincloth made of animal fur. They all crouched on the ground while staring at it mindlessly; after all, within this roofless cage made of twelve-foot-tall bamboo sticks, everyone was a prisoner.

Slowly he turned his head to look to his left. He counted only one entrance/exit this way yet no prisoners. The exit happened to be a bamboo door with a rectangular-shaped window that sat three-quarters of the way up. Standing on the opposite side of the window were two men with white-painted faces.

Baltor tried to prop himself up but found that his head was just far too dizzy, and now his stomach felt a bit nauseous—so he slowly laid back down.

When he finally did begin to feel a bit better, he propped up into a sitting position. After discovering that he still felt semi-okay a minute later, he cautiously rose to his feet.

Though a dizzy spasm crossed Baltor upon standing, he still felt okay. Just to be on the safe side, he stood in place for another minute.

He next walked over to the old man who sat by himself nearby, and whispered, "Hello."

The man completely ignored the greeting while his eyes continued to look in the direction they had initially been looking at—the ground.

After a few seconds had passed, Baltor walked over to the group of men huddling together—three of them—and whispered to them, "Hello—anybody speak this language?"

All three responded the same way by studiously ignoring him, just like the old man.

After his eighth attempt in all eight languages, he finally gave up, walked over to his spot, sat down, and looked out the window at the two guards. It was then that he first became aware that the guards sounded like birds as they chatted, and not real birds making the "coos" and "caws."

While listening to the guards, he rose to his feet, walked over to the wall that was his prison, found a small hole in between two of the bamboo stalks, and looked out that hole.

Outside this prison, he discovered an entire village of midget men, women, and children, each having a unique pattern of white makeup on their faces. They moved about the fifty or so large bamboo huts. Some sat around and chatted in that foreign language, while others walked around and others worked. Nobody wore shirts, just skirts, and leather sandals; the women wore long bone necklaces to conceal their privates. Unfortunately, he could not locate Valuspo anywhere.

He scanned this side of the village as best he could, walked over to the other end of the hut, found another hole, and scanned out that area.

He saw no living people, no camel named Valuspo, nor any other animals. Instead, there was a large smoldering smoke pit dug into the ground—hanging horizontally over the small fire within the thick smoke that smelled like hickory were a dozen human corpses, each skinned body tied up to a long bamboo stick. They were being turned to smoke jerky.

Even though Baltor had never before seen a group of cannibals, he had certainly heard and never forgotten about them, thanks to a bedtime story about cannibals dramatically relayed by his mother's only sibling—ole' Uncle Baltor. Because of the uncle's profession of choice—a captain on a merchant ship that sailed the "Eleven Seas"—the man had only three one-week-long opportunities to visit his nephew.

The nephew's mind began to get frantic as the thoughts of his impending doom swelled. His stomach commenced only a couple of seconds later to feel queasy to the point that he crouched down on his knees, and puked his guts out while tears poured out his eyes.

Minutes later yet not feeling much better, he started to hear someone trying to speak to him quietly in that bird-like language.

He looked up to see the young man standing right in front of him and talking to him—the one wearing the fur loincloth. On second glance, Baltor estimated that he stood at five-foot-six and had strong lean muscles—the tallest and strongest midget out of them all.

Baltor shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he did not understand what the young man had said.

Again, the young man said something; and yet again, the words that came out of his mouth were incomprehensible to Baltor's ears.

This time, Baltor decided to ask in the language of Misharan, "Can you speak this tongue?"

The young man responded by saying something in his language.

Baltor next tried the Pagasian language, asking the same question for the second time.

Without giving a reply, the young man turned around, walked back over to his buddies, squatted down, and stared at the ground.

Having given up as well, Baltor stood up before walking back over to the hole in the cage that revealed the other huts and the cannibals. He stared through the hole as the day slowly turned into night. After all, he could do nothing else but wait and study his adversaries...

Once night had fallen—still without any sign of Valuspo—he noticed that the entire tribe had gathered at the fire pit. After a dozen or so cannibals had taken the corpses to another location outside of Baltor's view, the rest of the tribe had begun to build a big bonfire in the pit.

As soon as the last cannibal had returned, the tribe initiated the ritual—a fast drumbeat commenced, at which point they simultaneously began to dance chaotically around the fire while chanting in that foreign bird-like language.

From amongst the crowd, a seven-foot-tall figure emerged. Even with the strange shadows cast by the fire, Baltor could tell that this was no man at all but a gorilla.

Almost amusingly, this beast joined in as it began to dance around the fire several times, with the rest of the tribe following behind it—until all of a sudden, everyone stopped at the same moment when the drums stopped, including the gorilla.

Next, this gorilla beat its fisted paws into its chest quite harshly, screaming something out that did not sound gorilla-like at all, yet bird-like, "Chee-caw-chee-hee-choo-cha-ha-hoo-chaw-chee-caw!"

Baltor only then began to suspect that this gorilla wasn't a gorilla at all but a man dressed in a costume.

While screaming the chant back, the cannibals commenced to spread themselves further away from the fire, in which they inevitably formed a spacious circle surrounding the gorilla.

Once again in that bird-like language, it screamed out, "Caw-chee-chaw-hoo-ha-cha-choo-hee-chee-caw-chee!"

A woman—who wore a feather-covered costume, including a feathered hat that bore the head of a vulture sewed into the top—joined the gorilla. Meanwhile, the cannibals screamed back the chant, their voices even louder this time.

The gorilla next screamed out, "Cha-ha-hoo-chaw-chee-caw-choo-hee-chee-caw-chee!"

As soon as the cannibals had finished repeating the words, one of the two guards opened the cell door. Both guards proceeded to caw something to the prisoners inside the cage while gesturing with the tips of their spears for all of the prisoners to exit the hut.

Within seconds, the prisoners proceeded to shuffle mindlessly toward the door, including Baltor. Once he stood outside, his head and eyes quickly gazed left and right seeking any escape.

One of the guards—who had been watching all the prisoners especially this brown-skinned one—slapped this prisoner fast and hard in the back of the knees with the back of his spear. In turn, Baltor's kneecaps slammed hard into the ground, and thus caused a lot of pain!

Angrily, the guard cawed something out while gesturing with the tip of his spear in Baltor's face to follow the rest.

He rose to his feet as fast as he could, even though his legs still hurt badly, before stumbling toward the other prisoners that had already neared the bonfire. The crowd had made a small gap for them to pass toward the center.

When Baltor drew closer to the fire, he confirmed this to be no gorilla at all, but a man in a gorilla suit that covered him from head to toe. That is, except for the gorilla's face that had been cut out, revealing a black-painted human face underneath.

Once all of the prisoners including Baltor had lined up near the fire, the gorilla-man screamed out, "Choo-hee-chee-caw-caw-chee-chaw-hoo-ha-cha!"

The cannibals closed the gap while concurrently screaming back the gorilla-man's chant.

The vulture-woman yelled, "Chee-caw-chee-hee-choo-cha-ha-hoo-chaw-chee-caw-caw!"

The others, excluding the gorilla-man, began to chant, "Caw. caw. caw. caw! Caw! Caw! CAW! _CAW!_ " The chanting not only grew faster, yet louder.

That is, until the cannibals stopped the chanting in unison. Meanwhile, the gorilla-man and vulture-woman made their way over to the first prisoner.

Once there, the gorilla-man growled out, " _Grrroooooooowwwwwwwwwwllll!_ "

Though Baltor was the last of the thirteen prisoners, he pondered any escape option without moving his head. Unfortunately, he discovered no options, as the entire tribe of cannibals consisting of several hundred people surrounded them.

Only a few seconds had passed before Baltor heard the sound of a shocked gasp. He looked over to see that two cannibals held the first man firmly in place, while the gorilla-man stabbed a pointy and sharp ivory tusk into the center of the prisoner's chest!

As this prisoner screamed over and over again, Baltor could barely hold back his gasp of shock and horror as he observed the heart physically removed by the gorilla-man's free hand—a heart that continued to beat. He watched in ever-increasing horror as the gorilla-man extended the heart out to the vulture-woman. In turn, the vulture-woman crunched her teeth into the heart, which caused blood to spray all over her white-painted face.

Shocked, horrified, and disgusted, Baltor bit back his scream by biting his tongue. He watched the prisoner drop to the ground while clutching his heartless chest and continuing to shriek.

As for the gorilla-man, he looked ecstatic while raising the remaining portion of the heart high into the air. While tightly squeezing it with his fist, which caused a fountain of blood to pour down his arm, he screamed out, " _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_ "

Baltor could no longer hold back his scream that occurred at the same time as the rest of the cannibals who shouted back in response to their leader, so no one heard his.

As soon as he had completed his scream, he bent over and began to dry-heave, yet his tear-filled eyes could not look away as the gorilla-man took a bite into the heart, causing still more blood to squirt all over his face.

The gorilla-man casually tossed that heart into the fire as though it was a piece of tinder; the prisoner died.

Meanwhile, Baltor could no longer hold back the remaining fractional contents of stomach juices that he vomited.

When he looked up about a half-minute later with tears pouring down his face, he blurrily saw that the gorilla-man and vulture-woman now stood before the next prisoner—the young man who wore the fur loincloth.

The gorilla-man commenced once more with that strange and frightening chant.

Baltor realized that if he did not do something quick, he would be the last to die this horrific and disgusting way, so he needed to use the element of surprise by trying to escape while ready to fight anybody who stood in his way—NOW!

In the next moment, he ran for the jungle at top speed; and as expected, he even valiantly fought for freedom for the next several minutes. Unfortunately, the hordes of cannibals closed in on his position like masses of flies on a tiny piece of dung before leaping at him with arms and legs extended fully outward as if flies without wings!

Overall, Baltor had knocked out or killed a grand total of fourteen cannibals before the fifteenth person successfully pinned him to the ground, with dozens more piling on top! The cannibals had immobilized Baltor, especially since they had a combined weight of more than two thousand pounds. Even worse, he could not breathe, and his body felt like it was being crushed!

The pile of cannibals separated about thirty seconds later; the last two cannibals forcibly brought their prisoner to his feet.

Even though Baltor's body ached, his mouth coughed frequently, his lungs breathed raggedly, and his vision saw stars zooming everywhere he looked, he still saw that the gorilla-man and vulture-woman now stood but a few feet away in front of him.

For the first time, he noted that they both wore bone rings that began from inside their nostrils and curled around to the outside of their noses—even weirder than that, they bore friendly smiles. All Baltor could do was to gulp down his fears and wait.

The gorilla-man drew even closer, giving Baltor "the up-down look," still with that friendly smile on his face. He scanned across the tribe around him while saying calmly, "Choo-hee-chee-caw-caw-chee-chaw-hooha-cha."

The vulture-woman added in a gentle voice, "Chee-caw-chee-hee-choo-cha-hahoo-chaw-chee-caw-caw-caw."

As soon as she had finished, the others began to chant. At first, they chanted quietly, but quickly it rose to a crescendo, "Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw! Caw! Caw! _CAW!_ "

In unison, they stopped chanting.

The gorilla-man's gaze returned to Baltor just before his friendly smile turned diabolically evil a second later. He growled at the top of his lungs, " _Grooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwllll!!_ "

Baltor closed his eyes and awaited the plunge that would terminate his life. When it seemed as if the gorilla-man had graciously given his human sacrifice a few extra moments to live, Baltor thought, _What will life be like for me after I die? Oh—sorry God if I've done wrong, but I tried as best I could!_

Infinity seemed to pass as he continued to wait for death; instead of that happening, his ears heard a whooshing noise followed by the sound of someone's body crumpling on the ground nearby. Curiosity enveloped him, so he opened his eyes and looked around.

He saw that the gorilla-man now lay on the ground, completely unmoving, as well did he notice the vulture-woman shoving her way past the scattering cannibals who had all commenced to caw in a loud alarmed fashion. She and nearly the rest of the savages ran to retrieve their weapons located in their homes on the other side of the prison.

Only eight cannibals remained behind, in which six of them wielded either a spear or a blowgun; the other two held Baltor tightly. All the while, the savages searched around the dark jungles for their enemy or enemies, while the other prisoners ran off in all directions.

A few seconds passed before Baltor couldn't help but notice that three of them, including one of the men who held him in place, collapsed to the ground all at the same time.

Seeing his partner fall, the other unarmed cannibal holding Baltor let go, especially after having witnessed firsthand Baltor's powerful fighting skills only a few minutes earlier. This savage ran back for the village all the while screaming at the top of his lungs.

Baltor entertained the thought of chasing him down and taking him out. However, he changed his mind as he heard the screams of cannibals get progressively louder while running back to the bonfire.

From amongst the din to his right, he heard someone yell out, "Caw-chew-chee-cha-cha-che-cha-cha-chew!"(56)

Turning his head to the sound, Baltor saw the young man—about ninety feet away—standing on the far side of the bonfire. This man had been looking right at Baltor while yelling and frantically waving both hands. At least for the moment, two armed-with-spears savages stood between Baltor and the young man.

Once the young man had seen Baltor look at him, he turned around and began to run at full speed toward the dark recesses of the jungle.

Of course, Baltor followed while running as fast as he could. With a spear that he had just scooped off the ground lying near an unconscious cannibal, he ascertained that the nearest conscious enemy was about forty feet away while the next was about fifty-five feet away—unfortunately, the further of the two had just spotted the young man, taking off after him in hot pursuit.

As Baltor ran around the left side of the bonfire, his peripherals detected a female cannibal on the other side. She had just risen onto her knees while looking straight toward him and placing the end of a blowgun into her mouth. He had already tabulated that she was about twenty-five feet away from his current position while the next closest enemy—a man armed with a spear—was about thirty-five feet away.

Not surprising to Baltor, the woman had just begun to aim carefully at the moving target that she knew to be "a dangerous threat"—him! The man continued to look around the jungle.

As soon as Baltor decreased the distance to twenty feet between himself and the man, he leveled one end of the spear into the ground while gripping the other side with both hands just below the tip.

After pole-vaulting through the air and now with both feet kicking out straight in front of him for maximum thrusting power, he shifted his grip on the spear until holding it in the middle while curling up his legs tightly into his chest.

The moment his feet made contact with the man's chest a split-second later, as this person had turned his body toward his enemy a split-second earlier, Baltor kicked both legs straight out with full force into the man!

As a result, the cannibal flew out-of-control through the air nearly five feet. That is until his head smashed hard into the ground, at which point his neck snapped sideways! Though he died instantly, his corpse continued to roll sideways perhaps a half-dozen times before stopping.

While flying backward, Baltor performed a backflip, in which his legs automatically tucked into his chest. Only a moment later, he heard a whooshing sound from a passing dart that would have hit him had he not tucked.

After landing back on his feet, he cocked back the spear in his right hand, flicking it like a dart toward the female cannibal who had just finished reloading her dart gun!

The spear plunged through her midsection before stopping at the halfway point inside her—in both shock and pain, she dropped the blowgun! She then grabbed the spear buried inside her to try to pull it out but to no avail. A second or two later, she collapsed to the ground dead.

Baltor had wasted no time watching her die, for he had already begun to run ahead at top speed. Meanwhile, his mind noted that even though the young man had started to near the perimeter of the jungle, this young man's only immediate threat ran about twelve feet behind him while drawing closer by the second.

Baltor slowed down his pace for but a moment to scoop up a spear off the ground. After recommencing with his full running stride, he cocked it back in his right hand before launching it with all of his might at the savage chasing the young man.

The cannibal had just cocked back his spear to hurl it when Baltor's spear sailed completely through his midsection, causing him to capsize to the ground. To Baltor's chagrin, the spear he had thrown continued to fly straight toward the young man. Baltor began to grit his teeth in fear and frustration just before his feet skidded to a complete stop.

A split-second later, the young man abruptly stopped and turned his body. Baltor's spear zinged past his stomach by a mere inch.

Inevitably, that spear sank a quarter of the way into a palm tree standing about ten feet beyond where the young man now stood.

Baltor breathed a deep sigh of relief before quickly wiping all the sweat off his forehead with his left hand.

The young man glanced at the spear stuck in the tree for only a second before turning around. He then excitedly waved with both hands for Baltor to follow a couple of times before turning around and entering the dark jungle.

Baltor followed, in which he proved to be a slightly faster runner than the young man.

As soon as they had escaped the village, they both began to hear a whole lot of whooshing, fighting, and screaming sounds coming from behind them. Neither person looked back.

After about five more minutes of running, the young man stopped, turned around, and knelt onto the ground. Without saying a word, he began pulling together a bunch of dead leaves into a pile before hiding himself within them. Getting the idea, Baltor followed suit nearby.

Less than a minute after he had buried himself under the leaves, he heard the sounds of footsteps running by, as well the sounds of bird-clucks. He remained completely still and silent, which included lightening his breathing up until noiseless.

Only seconds later, those footsteps receded, thankfully. Ten minutes or so passed before the area became silent other than the sounds of grasshoppers and other jungle noises.

Soon after, without meaning to, Baltor fell asleep.

## CHAPTER XIII

After night had turned into morning, Baltor woke up, still buried under leaves. He had only awoken because his ears detected the slight sounds of someone shifting leaves around on the ground nearby. Because of the distinct possibility that this person might be a cannibal, he gingerly turned his head to look that direction, so that none of the leaves on him would shift off; he saw the young man squatting next to him and looking directly at him.

With a single wave of his hand, this man gestured for Baltor to follow. Without any further delay, he stood up, turned to the north, and commenced to jog in that direction.

Baltor rose to his feet, caught up, and paced alongside the young man...

An hour before sunset three days later, and with only about a couple dozen short pit stops to rest, eat berries and-or other foliage that the young man had selected, or drink water collected from leaves thanks to the rain, the two well-beyond-exhausted men finally reached the borders of another tribal village. Neither person had spoken the entire time.

Baltor immediately noted the striking similarities between this village and the last, in that a large number of straw huts dwelt inside a gargantuan-sized clearing, and that the villagers here were midgets, wore the same attire, and spoke the same bird-like language. However, located on the far side of this village just before a thick backdrop of jungle trees, there stood a single massive bamboo hut—at least thirty times larger than the rest. Thankfully, not a single person around here wore that gruesome white makeup.

The young man took the lead before strolling in between the little huts and toward the big one.

While Baltor followed about five feet behind, he observed that every single villager had stopped in his or her task as this young man passed on by, bowing low to the ground on his or her hands and knees. His mind recognized the "universal sign" that this young man held a high rank in his society, perhaps even royalty.

As soon as the villagers looked up after the young man had passed, however, their eyes remained firmly locked onto Baltor. Never had they before seen anyone with such light skin before, or seen such strange-looking clothes!

Curious, they all began to follow the two men while rapidly speaking amongst each other in that bird-like tongue—Baltor felt their hands touching his backside gently, but never did the villagers grab or stop him as he walked.

Baltor did his best to ignore the pesky annoyances, which certainly was not easy; that is until someone unexpectedly poked his left butt cheek with his or her finger.

Before he could turn around and yell out a reprimand, he heard the sounds of someone's hand slapping another hand, a woman cawing something harshly, and then a young child crying.

Because he assumed the culprit to be that child, he didn't look back but kept following the young man.

Perhaps ten minutes later, they—the young man, Baltor, and all the villagers who followed—finally reached the large hut.

Upon closer inspection, Baltor perceived that this three-story hut had windows on every floor and outdoor patios on the top two floors. Located at the only entrance he had seen so far, there stood a tribal guard in a semi-relaxed position on each side, each person armed with a feather-laced spear.

The young man entered the hut first, while Baltor continued to follow about five feet behind.

The guards instantaneously crossed their spears together, clearly indicating to Baltor that they were not going to let him enter this hut. Therefore, he stopped and patiently waited.

Two or three seconds passed before the young man stopped a couple of feet shy of the wall ahead, pivoted his body to the left, turned just his head to look at the guards, and then said something in that fast tongue of his. (57)

As soon as he had finished speaking, the guards returned their spears back into their original positions. The young man began to walk the direction he faced.

Because Baltor assumed the young man had ordered the guards to allow him to enter the hut, he did.

The guards crossed their spears right away, forbidding entry to all the other villagers who all wanted to enter.

Even though Baltor could see no stairs while following the young man, yet, he noticed that they walked down a long hallway that escalated higher and higher into the hut. On the left side were windows; on the right were a dozen entryways evenly spaced. In front of each entrance, there hung a large piece of animal fur from the ceiling that did not quite reach the floor.

He could tell—from a passing glance through the cracks between the fur and the wall—that there was at least one room behind each entrance. Of course, he had no clue if these rooms connected with each other, but he did become aware that the hallway circled inside all four exterior walls of the hut.

Shortly after arriving at the third floor, Baltor noticed a short hallway ahead of him that turned right at a ninety-degree angle—no more than ten feet long.

After making this turn, he saw that the corridor ended ten feet ahead, in which there stood an entryway twice the size as all the rest. Unlike any of the other ones except for the main entrance leading outside, a spear-wielding guard stood on each side, and no animal furs blocked the view inside this room.

Therefore, the first thing that grabbed Baltor's attention was the large group of villagers who all stood at the far end of this room, facing the other way as he.

As before, the young man entered without the guards stopping him; and as before, when Baltor neared the entrance, the guards crossed their spears. Unlike before, the young man did not look back or say a word as he continued walking toward the far end.

Baltor decided to wait patiently, and so he spent this valuable time examining this chamber that he approximated to be one hundred feet in length and two hundred feet in width. Hanging on the walls were the heads of a large variety of stuffed predatory jungle animals—every single eye socket stuffed with a large jewel or diamond! Hanging between each plaque was a unique-shaped tribal shield, in which most possessed colorful feathers glued to the molten metallic substance underneath, apparently gold. Underneath each shield were two crossed spears, also made of gold, feathers dangling just below the spearhead.

He even had the time to count out sixty-two villagers, who all bowed as the young man passed. These villagers wore furs, gold-laced tribal necklaces and other expensive jewelry, including earrings and-or neck rings decked out with jewels.

It was not until the last of the villagers bowed, perhaps a half-minute later, that Baltor could see three thrones lined up against the wall at the far end of the room. Black furs covered most of these thrones, yet the exposed parts revealed gold and jewels, including large diamonds!

But that's not all he saw—a senior man sat on the throne in the middle and a senior woman sat to his left. They both wore a real panther's head ornamented with diamonds stuck in the eye sockets, as well animal furs that covered most of their bodies, despite the hot and humid temperatures. A King and his Queen, Baltor realized right away.

As soon as the young man had drawn near to the thrones, about five feet away, he stopped. Without bowing, he proceeded to talk rapidly to this King and Queen. (58)

The young man turned around, pointed with his finger at Baltor, and said something in that language of his. (59) After a short pause, he said something else. (60) Once he had finished speaking, everybody in the room turned to look at "the strange-looking stranger."

Baltor had no doubt he was the center of attention, but he did not know why. Another thing he now knew, without a doubt, was that the young man he had been following for the last three days must be royalty because he had not bowed once before this King and Queen. And the final thing he knew was that because the spears remained crossed before him, he needed to stay put.

Perhaps a quarter-minute passed before the King said something. (61) As soon as he had finished speaking, the guards returned their spears into their original position by their sides.

The King beckoned with his hand for "the stranger" to enter.

As Baltor drew closer to the thrones, he observed that both the King and Queen wore an extensive amount of valuable jewelry around their neck and ears. About twenty feet away from the throne, he stopped and bowed in the same fashion as he had witnessed the villagers bow.

This King said something sharply (62) while gesturing with his hand for Baltor to come closer.

Baltor looked up, saw the King's gestures, rose to his feet, and approached the thrones.

Approximately five feet away, the King raised his left arm straight in front him while the palm of his hand faced Baltor. He then said something else. (63)

Baltor stopped as he understood the gesture but not the words.

The King stood up, in which he was five feet tall. He then walked over to Baltor's location before proceeding to walk around and around Baltor while giving him "the up-down look" the entire time.

About the tenth time around, the King stopped directly in front of Baltor. He next patted Baltor's chest before saying something with a whole lot of excitement. (64)

Although Baltor didn't have a clue as to the words, everybody else in the room did as they began to caw in unison loudly; the only people who remained silent were Baltor, the King, Queen, and the young man. By this time, Baltor strongly suspected that the young man might be a Prince.

He attempted to turn his head around to look at the still-cawing crowd but felt his jaw gently grabbed and pulled back until facing the King. His eyes instantly noticed that the King bore a happy smile, though Baltor did not know why.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young man sit upon the right throne—this Prince, as he obviously was, continued to gaze and smile at Baltor.

A few seconds had passed before Baltor realized that the Prince's face strongly resembled his father's, except for the factor of age.

After the King had said something else with quite a bit of excitement, (65), the crowd stopped cawing before exiting the throne room—meanwhile, the King sat down on his throne.

Perhaps a quarter-minute passed before only the royalty remained in this room, and of course, Baltor.

The Prince stood up from his throne, walked over to Baltor, pointed at his chest with his left index finger, and identified, "Cheo-Sucanamo-Chaosnam-Casaman-Namao."

"Cheo," Baltor said, only repeating the first part to his friend's name. He next pointed to himself before identifying, "Baltor."

Unexpectedly, the Queen said something (66).

Cheo shook his head from side to side a few times, in which Baltor assumed the Prince was saying no to whatever the Queen had said. The Prince next gestured with his right hand for Baltor to follow, leading him out of the throne room and taking him down to the second floor.

After passing three entrances, he used his left hand to pull back and hold the fur while his right hand gestured for his new friend to enter first.

Even before entering, Baltor had already observed a five-and-a-half-foot-tall by fifteen-foot-wide circular tub made of wood that sat in the middle of this small room. A pit of burning charcoals sat underneath the tub, a ladder leaned against the side, and steaming hot water filled it to the rim. Besides the doorway they had entered through, there was one other fur-covered exit to the right.

After Baltor had stopped and turned around ten feet inside this room, the Prince said something in his way-too-fast-to-comprehend language (67). He climbed the ladder, entered the tub, took off his loincloth, threw it over the side, and gestured with his hand for his friend to join.

Baltor took off his shirt before kicking off his boots and socks. Just as he was about to take off his pants yet leave his underwear on, as he didn't want to dirty the water with his filthy clothes, he saw two beautiful young women enter the room, each holding a sponge in hand.

The Prince was already sighing deeply, as the hot and medicinal waters soothed his aching muscles all the way up to his neck. Baltor, on the other hand, continued to stand there, completely unmoving yet watching as the two girls entered the tub.

As soon as Cheo realized that his friend wasn't undressing but standing there with a beet-red face even with his tanned complexion, he began to laugh, "Ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca!" Once that laughter had subsided, he gestured with his hand for Baltor to enter the tub. Meanwhile, one of the girls began sponging the Prince's back.

Baltor took off his pants before slowly entering the hot tub. As soon as the water level had reached the top of his neck perhaps a half-minute later, he took off his underwear and tossed it over the side. Only then did his entire body begin to relax....

In under a minute, he could no longer feel those aching muscles that he had long neglected. As the girls massaged and scrubbed the two men within the confines of the bathtub, Baltor and Cheo spent this time trying to learn to understand each other's language, but all for naught.

This Prince's language proved to be far too fast and repetitious for Baltor to comprehend, even when he spoke it slowly. For example, when the Prince said Baltor's name, he pronounced it pretty much this way, "Ba-cha-cha-cha-al-chu-chu-chu-tor-chew-chew-chew."

When the girls had finished their task, nearly ten minutes after they had started, they smiled at both men before exiting the tub and then the room out the side entrance. Both surprise and relief hit Baltor that the woman who cleaned him had never touched his private parts, not even accidentally.

For the next few minutes to pass, neither man said a single word but merely soaked in the tub while smiling at each other, which was all they could do. Inevitably, the Prince cleared his throat before exiting the tub.

Baltor exited a second or so later, only then noticing that the two girls must have silently returned to lay neatly on the floor two pairs of fur loincloths and two pairs of jewelry-laced sandals.

Neither man wasted any time throwing on their loincloths while keeping their gazes away from each other until both were fully dressed.

Following, Cheo led his friend outside the tribal palace and up to the giant bonfire in the middle of the village, in which all of the commoners were there, prepping on a variety of tasks. The King and Queen were also there, but they sat in the two middle bamboo seats, in which there were four overall.

At the same time that the Prince and Baltor had taken their seats, the sun set below the western horizon. Four of the commoners approached, each giving a gold mug filled with an alcoholic beverage to each of the royalty and Baltor. Language or no language—the partying commenced!

Though Baltor did not understand a word that any of the villagers said, other than that person's name, he recognized their kind faces and friendly pats on his back. All signs of nervousness ended after he had taken several long draughts of the liquor-like alcohol and gotten a little buzz—therefore, he slowed his drinking down because he did not want to get drunk.

Perhaps a half-hour later, thirty of the commoners proceeded to serve dinner to everyone, beginning with the royalty and Baltor. Dinner consisted of boars roasted under the ground for most of the day; the cooks next cut the meat up into bite-sized chunks and mixed it up with a green type of vegetable before serving it all on a foot-long sturdy leaf.

Before Baltor commenced to eat, he noticed that nobody ate the leaf held in one hand, yet used the free hand to scoop a bite-sized portion into his or her mouth.

Everything turned out to be both delightful and filling!

Shortly after dinner, one of the commoners approached, carrying a foot-long tribal pipe in his hand—he gave it to the Prince.

Cheo lit the pipe, took a couple of puffs, and extended it out for Baltor to take—he did. Baltor took two hits, and for the rest of the night, experienced nothing but a pleasant blur of events....the only thing he could remember for sure was that he hadn't gone to sleep until right after the sun had risen.

That afternoon, Baltor awoke lying on a thick blanket of furs, yet he was not alone. Curled up next to him was a beautiful woman who looked about his age—fortunately they both still wore clothes.

Only seconds after he sat up in bed, an aging woman entered while carrying a green leaf that had some funky-looking green substance on it. It was not until she patted her stomach that Baltor realized this must be his breakfast.

When he took a bite, in which he discovered it to be bitter, slimy, and clingy, it took all of his willpower not to spit it back out—his scrunched-up face showed that he did not like this gunk.

The old woman, however, would not leave until Baltor had eaten the entire thing. Even worse, she did not give him anything to drink to wash down the bitter aftertaste before leaving. The young woman strangely managed to continue sleeping through it all—other than her light breathing; she hadn't moved once.

Right after the old woman left, a middle-aged man entered the bedroom before gesturing with his hand for Baltor to follow—he did.

This man led the way up the hallway until they reached the top floor. They stopped several feet in front of the two guards, yet this time, these guards kept their spears at their sides the entire time—the man gestured with a wave of his hand for Baltor to enter.

Although Baltor entered, the man did not as he went the other way. While walking toward the thrones, he quickly looked around and noticed that only he and Cheo were in this room right now. The Prince continued sitting on his throne with a smile on his face while looking directly at Baltor.

After Baltor had refocused his attention back on his friend, he noticed that Cheo now wore a thin gold crown embedded with a variety of sparkling jewels, a black fur coat and a loincloth, golden earrings and other types of expensive-looking tribal jewelry, and sandals decked out with gems on top.

As soon as he had reached the halfway point, he dropped to his hands and knees and bowed.

The Prince rose to his feet right away, walked over, and placed his hand gently on his friend's shoulder.

When Baltor looked up, the Prince gestured with his other hand to rise—Baltor did.

Over the course of the next several hours, they tried their absolute best to learn the other's language to communicate, but again, all their attempts proved futile.

Just after nightfall, the feasting and partying commenced, just like the night before. Unlike the evening before, Baltor thoughts soon came to focus on his quest for the Guild, and that he would need to leave soon. However, since he no longer had his camel, and even worse, he did not have the map, he had no clue of which way to go to find the tower that may or may not still exist in Cheo's jungle.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea crossed Baltor's mind! He picked up a stick off the ground and drew the picture of the camel into the dirt.

Because the Prince had a clueless look on his face, Baltor realized that he did not know anything about Valuspo.

Therefore, he scribbled out the drawing with his foot before using the stick to draw the tower into the ground. He looked up to see a petrified expression upon Cheo's face while his foot obliterated the drawing and his mouth clucked something incomprehensible to Baltor's ears. (68)

Realizing that the Prince must know something about the tower, Baltor drew its picture for the second time—for the second time the Prince scribbled it out with his foot while saying something else. (69)

Baltor slapped his chest hard, said his name, drew the tower into the sand for the third time. He next wiggled his index and middle fingers back and forth a few times to indicate that he needed to be traveling that way. He then pointed at the drawing with the stick while looking back and forth between the picture and the Prince.

Cheo was about to obliterate it, but then he stopped his foot an inch shy of the drawing before returning that foot right next to the other. He sighed in resignation, pointed at his friend, pointed at the picture, gestured to the night sky overhead, and then extended out four fingers.

Baltor nodded his head in understanding and agreement that his friend wanted him to stay four more nights. However, since the Prince looked confused from the nodding gesture, Baltor bowed his head for a couple of seconds before looking at his friend and smiling. Understanding that, Cheo smiled...

For the next three days and nights to pass, even though verbal communication had proven impossible so far, both refused to give up. Despite this setback, Cheo and Baltor gradually learned how to communicate in other ways—sign language (especially finger pointing) and now drawing pictures.

With this brand-new form of communication, the Prince explained in about an hour's time that no one in his village was a cannibal. In fact, his tribe and the cannibals had initially been one nation until about a century ago when about a dozen of his ancestors had secretly decided to band together to become human-eaters, and so they ran away and started their village that seemed to multiply as all of the adult males repopulated with all of the adult females. The two tribes, ever since, warred too many times to count.

Another interesting thing Baltor came to learn was that the villagers loved to party every single night, including Cheo's parents, and every night turned out to be a great old time.

During the days, he and the Prince spent just about every waking moment exploring all the natural wonders and beauties of his kingdom, from cascading waterfalls to unusually shaped rock formations. Very little sleep did either of them get through this whole time, but neither did either seem to need hardly any rest.

Finally, the fourth morning came, and a tribesman arrived at Baltor's bedroom. After a prompting of his hand to follow, he led the way to the throne room. This time, the King, Queen, and Prince all sat in their thrones to see Baltor off before his scheduled departure.

Once Baltor stood five feet away from the thrones, he bowed for a few seconds before rising to his feet.

The Prince stood up, walked over, and gave his friend a tight hug.

When they released a few moments later, Baltor noticed that a teardrop had formed at the corner of his friend's eye.

Instead of wiping it away, Cheo extended his pinky out, swiped the teardrop before it fell, and rather surprisingly, rubbed it in a little circle right on Baltor's forehead.

Baltor did not know or understand why the Prince had just performed this unusual action—nor could he even begin to ask, with only the fractional bits of sign language they had painstakingly co-developed.

Unexpectedly, he found it even more unusual that his mind's eye suddenly began to relive these last few days spent with all of the villagers, which included smiles, laughs, and fun, of whom had become his newest collection of incredible friends!

Upon completion of all the happy recollections a few seconds later, Baltor realized he was going to miss these people after his departure. His heart unexpectedly tightened up in his chest, and a tear mysteriously formed in his eye, so he repeated Cheo's unique act.

He glanced up to the thrones only a moment later, noticing that the King and Queen were smiling with pride, though he had no clue why they seemed so proud and happy.

Meanwhile, the Prince looked over to a tribesman who stood idly by, and then said something to him. (70) That man nodded his head, bowed down on his hands and knees, and then ran out of the throne room.

Cheo walked over to his throne, sat down, smiled again at his friend, and pointed one finger up in the air. Baltor understood that he needed to wait a minute, and so he did.

Exactly one minute later, that same man re-entered the throne room carrying two of Baltor's possessions in one hand, 1) his saber and 2) the map! In his other hand, he held a pear-shaped/sized bag made of black fur.

Baltor's mouth dropped all the way open in shock upon discovering that someone had miraculously retrieved his most-prized objects, most likely from the cannibals—still, he threw an ear-to-ear smile, along with a respectful nod to the King, Queen, and Prince.

The man gently placed these objects onto the floor in front of Baltor, bowed to the royalty, and went back to his former post.

Baltor wasted no time picking his everything up in turn—he first stuffed the map into his shirt, sheathed his saber in the sheath on his belt, and then picked up the bag to look at it.

He discovered that this bag was soft and furry on the outside, yet hard and shifty on the inside.

His mind's eye once again saw Valuspo—his camel, companion, and friend. He looked up before drawing the picture of the camel into the air.

Like before, Cheo rolled his head around in a circle, indicating that no, no one had found his camel.

Once more curious as to the contents of the bag, Baltor looked down and was just about to open it up when he heard his friend unexpectedly whistle, in which he had taught Cheo how to whistle. He looked up.

The Prince first gestured with his index finger by pointing all around at his throne room a few times. He then pointed at himself, pointed at Baltor, gestured around the throne room again, and then pointed at the bag.

Baltor shook his head from side-to-side in understanding that the Prince wanted him to open the bag only after he had returned home. Out of respect, he looked down at the bag before tying its end around his belt loop. Once tied, he looked back up.

Cheo smiled just before saying his name right for the very first time, "Baltor." He then pointed at the tribesman that had given Baltor his possessions.

As Baltor looked over, he saw that man prompting him to follow—he followed the man out of the throne room.

However, he stopped in the hallway and turned around to face the thrones. His eyes noticed the Prince trace the outline of the tower into the air before pointing eight of his fingers up.

Baltor delivered an affirming nod to indicate he understood the Prince's message. He then dropped down to both hands and knees to bow.

Perhaps a quarter-minute passed before he rose to his feet, cast one final smile, waved his hand in a farewell fashion, and followed the man down to the palace's main entrance.

Once outside, he discovered with surprise that an entire caravan of twenty men waited around in loose formation, armed with spears or blowguns.

Even more surprising, a woman stood in the front-middle of the formation, holding onto the reins of a giant gray animal with long ivory tusks that had just knelt down onto its knees so that Baltor could climb to the top.

This saddled beast, as his memory reminded him, was called an elephant. Only once before had he seen any elephants, and that was when he was six-years-old—thanks to his mother who had taken him to the bazaar. Along the way, they had to wait for a short parade of visiting royal dignitaries to pass; their guards rode on horseback or elephants. While waiting, his mother had told him the name of this animal. Never, ever, ever had he conceived he would get to ride one...until now.

He sat into the elephant's multi-pillowed saddle and relaxed. After all, per Prince Cheo's message, the journey to get from the village of Chao-chu-sha-maen to the tower would take eight days.

## CHAPTER XIV

About thirty minutes before the sun was about to set—eight days later and without so much as a single problem or encounter through this trip through the jungle—Baltor's eyes gazed upon a tall black lonely tower far to the east. Hanging just above it in the skies was the full gray moon, as well a dozen twinkling stars.

This tower rested at the top of a large grassy hill without any trees. Even from this distance, he could tell that parts of this ancient structure had collapsed, and were in severe ruin due to the harsh elements.

He could also tell that his escorts had been acting nervous, especially after these last few days as they drew nearer to this taboo area.

After climbing down to the ground, he pointed them back to their village, although he knew they knew the way better than he did.

The tribeswoman gave him a lit torch before she, the elephant, and the rest of the escort headed back for home.

Once alone, Baltor turned to face the tower that had just begun to blend into the fast-darkening sky. He mentally noted that—amongst this prairie containing mostly two-foot-tall patches of grassy rolling hills—there were quite a few clusters of grouped trees here and there, for possible predatory animals, robbers, or even cannibals to hide.

As his mind considered his options of whether to stay or head to the tower, he mused aloud, "Well, how much safer am I here?"

He began jogging toward the tower. Despite the darkness that had conquered most of the skies, he could easily tell that this building was definitely in a dangerous stage of decay—more than half of its extended rectangular-shaped base had collapsed.

A few minutes after sunset, he reached his destination. While throwing another quick glance westbound into the last of the furious colors of dusk, he noticed for the first time that the red moon sat in the western skies.

After cautiously circling the perimeter, which took about an hour as he scrutinized everything using his torchlight, he came to realize that the only real entrance to the tower was a lopsided door that hung solely by its bottom hinge. Inside, he noticed that the wooden floors had been exposed to the elements, as large gaping holes existed on it, the walls, and the ceiling.

The next problem that he had to solve was where the rod could be, but only one option surfaced on where to start—the front door. By this time, a luminescent night consumed the lands, thanks to all the reflected light shed from both moons.

Baltor entered the tower, only to have his right foot accidentally kick a tiny rock that flew down into one of the dark holes in the floor. In turn, the rock caused a whole lot of echoing noises below.

Subsequently, he heard more echoing sounds as hundreds of small bats flew and screeched their way around him and out the front door. Once they left, he muttered under his breath, "So much for the quiet way." His hand drew his saber as his eyes scanned a wooden staircase with lots of gaping holes that led up and down—he decided to go downstairs first.

After walking over to the stairs, he mentally prepared to jump over a gaping hole between ten missing steps; the torch's light revealed the floor he stood on now, the story above and the story below. If he did not make it to the other side, he knew his body would plummet into darkness and crash at the base of the tower, in which he would either die or wish he was dead. Once prepared, he jumped and made it.

Three more gaping holes existed right below the first, in which he jumped across them all before reaching the bottom of the stairwell three stories down—the only light around here came from Baltor's torch. At the base of the staircase, he counted three doors; one to the right, one to the middle, and one to the left. He sheathed his saber so that he could turn one of the doorknobs; that is, once he had selected a door.

He chose the one in the middle about a quarter-minute later, opened it, and was about to walk through. However, he stopped in his tracks the same second his "warning senses" had begun to ring!

He scanned down the hallway ending with a door at its far end about a hundred feet away. Though a good inch of dust covered the floors, he could still see thousands of slight bumps that elevated from the ground in various spots. On both walls, there were thousands of little pinprick holes.

Though he had no doubt that this hallway was booby trapped, this minor setback didn't stop him, but it did slow him down. He used all of his agility skills to maneuver down the hallway, always ensuring that his tiptoeing feet never touched any of the bumps...

Thirty minutes later, he stood but a few feet away from the door, in which bumps covered the floor even in this area. Remaining on his tiptoes, he checked for booby traps all around the door and doorknob, yet discovered no traps. Therefore, he slowly cracked open the door before checking for any traps on the other side.

Once he found no traps upon, near, or around the door, perhaps a half-minute later, he pushed the door all the way open. To the best of his ability, he checked around the stone floors, walls, and ceiling of the room for still more traps—he found no traps. In fact, the only silhouetted object he could see was sitting in the middle of the chamber, but it sat outside the perimeter of the torch's light.

He tossed the torch, aiming to land it halfway between his position and that object—success! The object happened to be a pedestal that looked exactly like the one in Pavelus, except that this one was black.

Cautious as always, he proceeded to look all around for dangerous traps or creatures while walking up to the pedestal, but he could find no dangers. Halfway there, he picked up his torch.

As soon as he stood ten feet away from the pedestal, a soft white light had just begun to beam through the ceiling and sparkle down onto the pedestal. He looked up with bewilderment for a few seconds, trying to figure out what could be causing that light especially since it was nighttime, but no answers or ideas popped up in his head.

Upon arrival at the pedestal, perhaps a half-minute later, he could see that it also had a hollow pit at the top. Lying inside it, he discovered a rod resting on top of a map.

With excitement, he leaned in to gaze at what he now believed to be the Rod of Ro'shain, as well the bottom half of the world map, but touched neither! They might be booby-trapped.

Upon closer inspection of the rod, he quickly realized that there were absolutely no markings upon it—the six-inch-long handle was made of stone, most likely granite, while a six-inch-long dark-stained pine happened to be the other half; it looked boring and valueless.

Before gazing at the map lying underneath it, he pulled out the top half from his shirt and positioned it a half-foot over the other map while comparing the jigsaw patterns—a perfect match. Unfortunately, because the handle of the rod lay directly over a portion of the runes on the map, he could not even begin to decipher the second half to the message.

Once again, he stepped back to gaze more carefully at all the engraved symbols, in hopes that this pedestal might tell whether or not this thing was booby-trapped, or at the very least reveal some puzzle, riddle, clue, or story.

As with the pedestal in Pavelus, all of the symbols on this stand were chaotically placed pictograms of stars, whose points ranged from three to nine. In other words, the pedestal revealed absolutely nothing.

Deciding to do or die trying, he reached his hand over the edge of the pit to grab the handle of the rod. His hand was only an inch away from grabbing it when his ears heard a man's hollow-sounding voice say in Pavelian, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

Baltor stopped moving his hand toward the rod, but neither did he move his hand any further away.

Approximately ten feet away on the other side of the pedestal—a prismatic-bright light suddenly sprang in the middle of the air that was the size of the pointy tip of a needle. However, the dazzling glare was already so bright that Baltor had no choice but to scrunch his eyes into tiny slits.

That magical light seemed to grow bigger and brighter by the second—not only did he become forced to close his eyes yet shield them with his right arm—his left hand continued to hold the torch safely away from his body.

Not even fifteen seconds had passed before the diamond-shaped bright light grew to ten-foot-tall by eight-foot-wide by one-inch-thick, though Baltor was not aware of the dimensions.

From the depths of the portal, a figure stepped out. The portal and its light slowly dissipated away into nothingness, which just as slowly brought the room back into its original shadowy state, except for right around the pedestal, of course.

That same man's hollow voice said, "Open your eyes."

Ever so slowly, Baltor did. He commenced studying the masculine being that now stood before him only a couple of feet away. Resembling a man in his mid-twenties with a pale complexion, he had a flawless face without any sign of facial hair, and brown, thick, curly, shoulder-length hair. His simple attire consisted of flowing gray robes and nothing else like rings, necklaces, etc. The only strange thing at all was his pair of green eyes, whose pupils still magically glowed with that same prismatic color as the portal!

Because of this being's portal, voice, and eyes, Baltor believed he had just met God. Immediately, he bowed to the ground on both hands and knees while lowering his head and eyes to the ground.

This being knelt down on a knee just before using his left hand to gently grasp Baltor's chin and lift it until they were looking eye-to-eye. With a look of amusement, he released his grip, stood up, and said, "Stand up there young one. I am not God." His voice no longer sounded hollow.

Baltor stood up before asking hesitantly, "You're not? Who—what are you then?"

The being tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe, laughed merrily a couple of times, and answered, "I was once a human like you, Baltor, but now I am something else. As for my name, I was once called by mortals Trendon Harrn."

"How—how'd you know my name?"

"I know quite a few things about you, young one, besides just your name," was Trendon's elusive answer.

"So tell me what you are now—if you're no longer human."

"Consider first all the legends and myths you've been exposed to throughout your very short life. Then consider that which is far, far, far greater—this is what I have ultimately become after nearly ten thousand years of existence."

For quite a few moments, Baltor wanted to believe this man, and all his cryptic talk, but what he had to say sounded way too good to be true. _T_ _e_ _n_ _th_ _o_ _u_ _s_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _y_ _e_ _a_ _r_ _s_ _of_ _e_ _x_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _en_ _c_ _e!_ _?_

Trendon chuckled a couple of times before saying, "That is okay there, young one. I do not expect you to believe me, yet. In time, you will learn that I speak only Truth. For now, consider your legends and myths, please."

Although already annoyed with all of the elusive answers, Baltor squinted his eyes while thinking long and hard about the legends of dashing heroes and diabolical villains. Dozens of people on both sides popped up in his mind. Okay, myths...well, he heard a lot of those too, revolving around elves, goblins, dwarves, genies, angels, sea serpents, dragons, ghosts and other undead—demons and devils even.

All the while, this being continued to wait in silence, without moving a single muscle, including his unblinking eyelids.

After spending another minute to contemplate, yet with nothing else springing forth, Baltor began to give up.

Trendon appeared to have read his mind yet again, as he continued to explain, "In order to fully explain and understand what I am would take many centuries of your time. So, please let me briefly summarize all the successes that I have accomplished within my immortal existence into a tiny nutshell. I have traveled through hundreds of worlds and dimensions, and conquered them all!"

Though Trendon's lips did not move except to form a smile, Baltor still heard the man's voice say emphatically inside his head, _Yes, Baltor, hundreds of worlds and dimensions! In some worlds, I have discovered that magic seems to come from nature alone; in others, it comes solely from the mystical powers that the gods (sometimes inaccurate) or the Creator of the Multiverses (never false) bestow..._

Why, there are even some worlds where there seems to be no need or belief for spirituality, magic, or religion, because their technological advances appear to rule quite efficiently, or so they think! They, however, are quite mistaken, as these are the easiest of worlds to conquer...if that was my destiny, I could be their master, but it is not. Instead, I like to watch. And if necessary, defend the innocent from the worst of the villains out there in this universe.

Now speaking aloud, Trendon stopped smiling before saying, "Oh yes, magic does exist in many forms. But in this world, in particular, it primarily comes from within."

At that instant, a perplexed look crossed Baltor's face.

Trendon answered the look, "I know. Now that you realize I'm neither human nor a god, you want to know what I am—correct?"

Baltor nodded a couple times. He heard Trendon telepathically say, _I call myself quote-unquote, "A Watcher," and like you, I'm one of the good guys. On the other side of the coin, there is a whole race who shares the same physical forms and magical powers like me, but they are Chaotic Evil and classify themselves quote-unquote, "Vompareus!"_

Their single mission is to control the entire universe with them being the sole masters. These are the villains I still fight against, ever since I first became a Watcher nearly ten thousand years ago.

Although Baltor wanted to hear Trendon's definitions for a watcher and a vompareus, the first question within his mind was: _W_ _hat_ _w_ _ou_ _l_ _d_ _ha_ _v_ _e_ _happ_ _e_ _n_ _e_ _d_ _i_ _f_ _I_ _h_ _a_ _d_ _t_ _ou_ _c_ _h_ _e_ _d_ _t_ _he_ _R_ _od_ _o_ _f_ _R_ _o_ _'_ _sha_ _i_ _n_ _?_

Trendon squinted his eyes for a second before answering this question aloud, "You would have opened the portal between the hundreds of worlds and dimensions, a portal known as, 'The Dragon's Realm.' Some of the beings and creatures that could come out of it might be awesomely beautiful for sure, but they could also be disastrously deadly!"

Once more using telepathy, he added, _To_ _n_ _a_ _m_ _e_ _of_ _f_ _j_ _u_ _s_ _t_ _a_ _f_ _e_ _w_ _o_ _f_ _t_ _he_ _e_ _n_ _d_ _l_ _e_ _s_ _s_ _e_ _x_ _a_ _m_ _pl_ _e_ _s—evil_ _w_ _i_ _z_ _a_ _r_ _d_ _s_ _o_ _r_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _m_ _a_ _g_ _i_ _c_ _-_ _g_ _i_ _f_ _t_ _e_ _d_ _hu_ _m_ _a_ _n_ _s_ _,_ _e_ _l_ _v_ _e_ _s_ _,_ _d_ _r_ _a_ _g_ _o_ _n_ _s_ _,_ _v_ _a_ _m_ _p_ _i_ _r_ _e_ _s_ _,_ _d_ _e_ _m_ _o_ _n_ _s_ _,_ _d_ _e_ _v_ _i_ _l_ _s_ _,_ _o_ _r_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _he_ _m_ _o_ _s_ _t_ _p_ _o_ _w_ _e_ _r_ _f_ _ul_ _t_ _y_ _p_ _e_ _o_ _f un_ _d_ _e_ _a_ _d_ _c_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _t_ _u_ _r_ _e_ _o_ _f_ _a_ _ll_ _,_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _v_ _o_ _m_ _pa_ _r_ _e_ _u_ _s_ _..._ _y_ _o_ _u_ _n_ _a_ _m_ _e_ _d_ _q_ _u_ _i_ _t_ _e_ _a_ _f_ _e_ _w_ _o_ _f_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _m_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _r_ _s_ _e_ _l_ _f_ _,_ _B_ _a_ _l_ _t_ _o_ _r_ _._

"Of course," Trendon stated aloud, "this will not be a problem to the fully trained user."

Baltor pursed his lips together for a couple of seconds before replying, "I see. Well, the map said, and I quote, 'The Rod of Ro'shain has magical powers beyond imagination, but it must be used wisely by only the chosen one. If one condition is not met, then the wrath of the gods shall utterly destroy'—unquote. Am I this chosen one?"

"Perhaps in time, you will be," Trendon answered, "but for now, you have way too much to learn, young one, before such an esteemed position could be bestowed. And that is, only after you've proven your mastery over the rod and its many powerful secrets."

Baltor chimed, "I see! Well, can you tell me who created the pedestals, the map, and the rod? And what their purposes are for?"

Trendon answered, "Yes. First, let's get rid of that torch. We don't need its light."

Before Baltor could think of where to put the torch that he had been holding, it disappeared in the blink of an eye. For a few seconds, he looked at his empty hand with disbelief.

"Now," Trendon interrupted, "in order for me to accurately answer your questions, you are first going to need to hear this relevant piece of history which I'm about to teach you. So please sit down and get comfortable on the chair I have provided. It's right behind you."

Baltor turned around, and amazingly, he saw a one-man couch with some plush white cushions sitting on it only a couple of feet away. He sat down, and indeed, it proved to be comfortable.

Once Trendon noticed that he had Baltor's undivided attention, he answered, "Simply put, a little over nine thousand years ago, I created the rod, which took a millennium to create...no joke. Then one thousand years ago, I created the world map, the tower, and both pedestals—with but a willed thought. I then cut the sheet into two pieces. I placed the top half upon the pedestal underneath Pavelus, which at that time was the imperial capital city of a different dynasty called the Elysian Dynasty, coincidentally enough! Back then, Pavelus used to be called by its first citizens, and royalty, Taumaploth."

At this point, Baltor could not help but make an interested humming sound.

After an affirming nod, Trendon said, "As for the bottom of the map, and the rod, I placed them both upon this very pedestal right here, an area also ruled by the Elysian Empire."

He cleared his throat a couple of times before continuing, "In fact, this continent took but four centuries for the Elysian Empire to conquer and command; and for six more centuries, the Elysian Dynasty ruled nearly unchallenged! More than a millennium, they lasted..."

After releasing a sigh, he added, "That is, until five hundred and fifty-four years ago, the quote-unquote 'Helenus Invasion' began. The Helenus Clan were, back then, a clan of seafaring barbarians consisting of more than fifty thousand strong. They originally stemmed from a neighboring continent they ruled, in which they sought to conquer this continent as well. After a century-long war with no winner, the barbarian leaders set sail for Taumaploth, who, with a white flag raised on the bows of their ship, proposed peace.

"While they discussed peace negotiations in the palace with the last living royalty, a naïve eleven-year-old boy named Sultan Rotan Elysian XIV, your ancestor, the rest of the fleet quietly sailed into the undefended harbor in the middle of the night before attacking the city.

"Before morning, the Helenus conquered most of the city against the thirty thousand unprepared and disorganized soldiers. Regarding the sixty thousand citizens, the barbarians mercilessly impaled all the men and boys and took the girls as slaves.

"It was presumed that someone else within the ranks of the Elysian Empire had murdered Sultan Rotan the very night of the invasion, or so the Helenus believed after they kicked his bedroom door open to kill him! For what they discovered was the burned corpse of an eleven-year-old boy who wore the pajamas of the Sultan, lying in his burned-up bed."

Baltor looked shocked and horrified to learn this information about his ancestor—still he did not say a word.

Trendon sucked in a deep breath of air through his nose before saying, "What they did not know was that the body of the boy was a magical illusion. I had already taken the Sultan and delivered him to a family that I trusted, in another city far away from Pavelus. I told Rotan to keep his mouth shut about his true identity and to change his name, or the Helenus would find and kill him. In the end, I promised him that one of his offspring would rise in the future and redeem the family name of Elysian. He agreed..."

After a short pause, he added, "Now, because the Elysian Empire was without a leader, it quickly fell apart. The Helenus Clan next eradicated just about all the historical artifacts, statues, coins, books, and even symbols that identified the Elysians. Soon after the conquest, they changed the name to the Sharia Empire, because of the neighboring desert and the fact that they lost their homeland to still other invaders."

He stopped teaching at this point to ask, "Are you following me so far, Baltor?"

"Yes, I am. So far, yes."

Trendon nodded one time before chiming, "Excellent! Let me continue. What the Sharia Empire did not know either was the fact that the Elysians had many cities spread throughout the entire continent. However, without any strong leaders governing them, they inevitably grew weak and transformed into other nations, such as the Kingdom of Thorium and the Vispano Province...

"Ultimately, it was I who caused the earthquake a year ago and turned the pedestal in Pavelus visible, as well this tower. Yes, I am the one who arranged for you to come here two thousand years ago, though you ultimately made all the right choices along the way."

Baltor looked at Trendon with disbelief. He could only ask, "Why me?"

Once again using telepathy, Trendon answered, _I_ _h_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _s_ _ea_ _r_ _c_ _h_ _e_ _d_ _m_ _i_ _ll_ _e_ _nn_ _ia_ _fo_ _r_ _t_ _he_ _r_ _i_ _g_ _ht_ _pe_ _r_ _s_ _o_ _n_ _t_ _o_ _c_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _a_ _l_ _o_ _ng_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _a_ _s_ _s_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _m_ _e_ _._ _Th_ _o_ _u_ _g_ _h_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _r_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _y_ _f_ _e_ _w_ _i_ _n_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _u_ _n_ _i_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _s_ _e_ _t_ _h_ _a_ _t_ _c_ _a_ _n_ _s_ _i_ _n_ _g_ _l_ _e_ _-h_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _e_ _d_ _l_ _y_ _s_ _t_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _u_ _p_ _t_ _o_ _t_ _he_ _p_ _o_ _w_ _e_ _r_ _o_ _f_ _m_ _y_ _m_ _i_ _g_ _ht_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _m_ _a_ _gi_ _c_ _—_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _y_ _,_ _m_ _y_ _t_ _h_ _r_ _o_ _n_ _g_ _s_ _o_ _f_ _e_ _n_ _e_ _m_ _i_ _e_ _s_ _,_ _d_ _o_ _e_ _x_ _is_ _t.._ _._

_T_ _o_ _g_ _e_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _,_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _y_ _c_ _o_ _n_ _t_ _i_ _nu_ _o_ _u_ _s_ _l_ _y_ _t_ _r_ _y_ _t_ _o_ _d_ _e_ _s_ _t_ _r_ _o_ _y_ _m_ _e_ _,_ _s_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _a_ _t_ _c_ _h_ _a_ _o_ _s_ _a_ _nd_ _dis_ _o_ _r_ _d_ _e_ _r_ _c_ _a_ _n_ _r_ _u_ _l_ _e_ _o_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _a_ _l_ _l_ _o_ _f_ _t_ _he_ _o_ _r_ _d_ _e_ _r_ _e_ _d_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _l_ _d_ _s_ _I_ _p_ _r_ _o_ _t_ _e_ _c_ _t_ _..._ _a_ _nd_ _w_ _a_ _t_ _c_ _h_ _!_

Baltor begged, "Take me along with you! Train me, and I will learn...together, we can fight these atrocities—"

"No, young one," Trendon answered aloud, "you have way too much to learn, and I have far too little time to train you. For now, you must master this realm before I take you to any others."

Baltor asked, "What do you mean, master?"

"Even that answer," Trendon answered, "must you decipher for yourself in your own time—but let me give a little hint. When you have indeed discovered, and mastered, the greatest law that governs this world where you currently exist, then that all-too-real discovery shall lead you straight to me—but I can guarantee you that we shall not meet again in this tower."

By then, Baltor had become exasperated with all of Trendon's cryptic answers. With frustration clearly on his face and in his voice, he stated, "Well—if everything that you say is true, then it will take me literally centuries and centuries to get where you are! In fact, I'm sure I'll long be dead before I'm even close to being ready—"

Trendon interrupted, "In a sense, you will be, and in another sense, you will not be."

Baltor looked as confused as he sounded while asking, "Huh?"

After sighing aloud, Trendon explained, "Even those elves who do exist upon other planets, and whose lives literally span two to three thousand years, only get a fraction of a glimpse of what unquestionably lies out there in our multiverses and dimensions. That's because most of them are stuck on one planet—but I'm not...thanks to the rod and my immortality."

Now sounding irritated, Baltor asked, "So you're saying that it will be impossible for me to learn everything in my lifetime, in order to become the chosen one...am I correct?"

"Yes and no," Trendon answered back quite calmly, "to truly live, one must first have died."

Baltor thought to himself in disbelief, frustration, and even anger, _T_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _m_ _an_ _i_ _s_ _i_ _nsan_ _e_ _!_ _H_ _i_ _s_ _c_ _l_ _a_ _i_ _m_ _s_ _a_ _re_ _i_ _m_ _po_ _s_ _s_ _i_ _b_ _le—_ _eve_ _n_ _r_ _i_ _d_ _i_ _c_ _u_ _l_ _ou_ _s_ _—_ _no_ _w_ _ay_ _c_ _an_ _a_ _ny_ _of_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _b_ _e_ _t_ _ru_ _e_ _!_ _M_ _a_ _y_ _be_ _I'_ _m_ _t_ _he_ _one_ _w_ _ho_ _i_ _s_ _ha_ _ll_ _u_ _c_ _i_ _n_ _a_ _ti_ _ng_ _and-or possibly even_ _i_ _ns_ _a_ _ne!_

Trendon appeared to have read Baltor's mind yet again, for he said, "No, you are not hallucinating or insane. Now listen carefully, since my time grows short. What I am about to offer to you is a choice that I was not given a long, long time ago."

Baltor asked, "What's that?"

"If you should accept, Baltor, I will make you an immortal, though the costs and demands of this powerful type of immortality will be incredibly high at first. In fact, far greater than any other kind of immortal race. You must learn how to curb them all through your wit and resources—should you accept!"

Sounding like a pouting toddler, Baltor asked, "What type of immortal race, Trendon?"

Trendon telepathically answered, _A_ _v_ _o_ _m_ _p_ _a_ _r_ _e_ _u_ _s_ _..._ _o_ _r_ _i_ _n y_ _o_ _ur_ _b_ _e_ _s_ _t_ _un_ _d_ _e_ _r_ _st_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _i_ _ng_ _o_ _f_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _d_ _,_ _a_ _v_ _a_ _m_ _p_ _i_ _r_ _e_ _!_

As for the word "vampire," Baltor did comprehend. He had read an ancient compilation scroll on undead creatures only about two years back in the Guild's library. The semi-zany author who wrote it four hundred years ago claimed that the undead once walked the world millennia ago, but they were banished to hell by the lawful-good-aligned god Titus so that humanity could be tested for its value, whether good or evil.

The author listed and illustrated seven types of undead: ghosts, skeletons, zombies, wraiths, specters, mummies, and vampires. Regarding vampires, the author mentioned how vampires were the only undead creatures who still looked alive, happened to be bloodsuckers, and preyed only at night upon living creatures, preferably human beings—but during the day, they slept in coffins, graveyards, or at least someplace underground. Sunlight was the only thing that could permanently destroy them. They also hated religious symbols and holy water. Oh, and there is always "a head vampire."

Baltor looked down to the ground. A few moments of silence had passed before he asked, "So your plan is to make me a vampire, let me master this world and realm completely on my own; and once mastered, you will teach me about all the other ones?"

"If that is your destiny and your will."

"I don't know," Baltor replied quite reluctantly, as his mind flashed upon his recent encounters with the cannibals, and of course, their disgusting rituals. He did not want to hurt anyone, much less drink blood to survive.

Again having read his thoughts, Trendon added, "As I have already explained, you must use your wit and resources to help you overcome all your weaknesses, and master every level—even with your survival instincts to feast upon human blood! Even in the beginning, be selective by removing only the human vermin from the earth and feasting upon the blood of your enemies.

"Ultimately, to understand the future, one must also learn from the past; in the same way, to determine what absolute good means, one must also comprehend absolute evil. If that's not enough of a hint, then let me put it in a way you will understand—in order to beat your enemy, you must first become your enemy!

"And since we're now talking about you, young one, let me confirm that many obstacles in your past prevent you from clearly seeing the potentials for your future! But, the signs are also clearly there."

Trendon pointed his left index finger up before saying telepathically, _Y_ _o_ _u_ _h_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _o_ _ne h_ _o_ _ur_ _t_ _o_ _d_ _e_ _c_ _i_ _d_ _e_ _,_ _a_ _s_ _I_ _h_ _a_ _ve_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _a_ _ff_ _a_ _i_ _r_ _s_ _t_ _h_ _a_ _t_ _I_ _m_ _u_ _s_ _t_ _t_ _e_ _nd_ _t_ _o_ _p_ _r_ _e_ _s_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _l_ _y_ _._ _D_ _u_ _r_ _i_ _n_ _g_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _time,_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _a_ _r_ _e_ _n_ _o_ _t_ _t_ _o_ _t_ _o_ _u_ _c_ _h_ _t_ _he_ _R_ _o_ _d_ _o_ _f_ _R_ _o_ _'_ _s_ _h_ _a_ _i_ _n_ _fo_ _r_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _ea_ _s_ _o_ _n_ _s_ _I'_ _v_ _e_ _a_ _l_ _r_ _ea_ _d_ _y_ _s_ _pe_ _c_ _i_ _f_ _i_ _e_ _d_ _._

He switched to verbal communication as he stated, "Should you choose not to accept my offer; that is okay, but you must leave and never return here. If you do and-or you bring others, I will be forced to destroy you all, for the rod must stay upon one of the planets, and I have chosen this world for a particular reason! However, should you accept my offer; you will soon find a whole new world of opportunities and powers that were previously unfathomable."

Trendon switched back to telepathy as he said, _Once y_ _o_ _u_ _h_ _a_ _ve_ _f_ _u_ _ll_ _y_ _m_ _a_ _st_ _e_ _r_ _e_ _d_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _l_ _d_ _a_ _nd_ _r_ _ea_ _l_ _m_ _,_ _I_ _w_ _i_ _l_ _l_ _c_ _o_ _mm_ _e_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _t_ _o_ _t_ _a_ _k_ _e_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _t_ _o_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _l_ _d_ _s and realms_ _a_ _nd_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _i_ _r_ _b_ _o_ _u_ _n_ _d_ _l_ _e_ _s_ _s_ _o_ _pp_ _o_ _r_ _t_ _u_ _n_ _i_ _t_ _i_ _e_ _s_ _._ _T_ _h_ _a_ _t_ _is_ _,_ _o_ _f_ _c_ _o_ _u_ _r_ _s_ _e_ _,_ _i_ _f_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _s_ _ti_ _l_ _l_ _w_ _a_ _nt_ _t_ _o_ _kn_ _o_ _w_ _t_ _he_ _m_ _y_ _s_ _t_ _e_ _r_ _y_ _b_ _e_ _h_ _i_ _n_ _d_ _a_ _l_ _l_ _o_ _f_ _t_ _he_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _m_ _y_ _s_ _t_ _e_ _r_ _i_ _e_ _s_ _,_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _o_ _n_ _l_ _y_ _p_ _a_ _t_ _h_ _t_ _o_ _g_ _o_ _!_ _T_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _he_ _w_ _a_ _y_ _t_ _o_ _w_ _a_ _r_ _d_ _a_ _bs_ _o_ _l_ _u_ _t_ _i_ _o_ _n_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _t_ _he_ _a_ _bs_ _o_ _l_ _u_ _t_ _e_ _t_ _r_ _u_ _t_ _h_ _,_ _w_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _e_ _t_ _he_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _y_ _He_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _ns_ _a_ _nd_ _t_ _he_ _D_ _i_ _v_ _i_ _n_ _e_ _c_ _o-_ _e_ _x_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _!_

Baltor nodded his head a few times before proceeding to sit down in the chair so that he could contemplate in silence.

Trendon asked, "Do you have any other questions?"

Still looking away, Baltor shook his head negatively.

"I shall be back in one hour."

As soon as Baltor nodded his head, Trendon snapped his fingers and instantly disappeared.

Baltor stood up, walked over to the pedestal, and looked at the rod again. Shockingly, he noticed hundreds of tiny teardrop-shaped emeralds placed into the mahogany wood. Furthermore, a baby-smooth gray, white, and black piece of marble happened to be the handle.

He took a closer look at the marble, and his mouth dropped open upon seeing the patterns continuously swirl around! _Beyond priceless!_

He wanted so much to touch it, but because Trendon said not to, he sat down in the chair and thought.

For the next hour, he considered the fact that he now stood at the crossroads of life—on the one hand, he did not want to become a vampire, forced to drink people's blood to survive. On the contrary, he wanted to know the mysteries of the universe, and maybe Trendon was right that this was the only way to go about it, and that this was Baltor's only chance to decide. He admitted that he had always been curious about the truths of life and death.

At the end of the hour that only felt like minutes to Baltor, Trendon reappeared.

Trendon stated aloud, "Now is the time for you to make your choice, young one."

Looking doubtful, Baltor asked a couple of whiny questions, "Why can't you just train me to be a Watcher now? Why do I have to become a blood-sucking vampire first?"

Trendon sighed before answering, "It is as I explained before...in order to beat the enemy—one must first become the enemy. Let your heart and mind continuously be your guide as you have always done before, Baltor, and you shall never fail again. This is the very reason I believe that you have the potential to be the chosen one."

With fear, Baltor looked to the ground. After swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in his throat, he asked, "Will it be painful?"

After considering this question for a few moments, Trendon answered from his own experiences, "It is always painful when one wants to know the truth, but I can guarantee you this. Once one has ultimately discovered the _Tr_ _ut_ _h_ _of_ _Tr_ _uth_ _s_ , there shall never be pain again, only utter joy and peace. Even I, after nearly ten thousand years of existence, have not yet found it, though I believe that I am very, very, very close!"

He added a few seconds later, "But I know exactly how your question was couched, Baltor—yes, the physical pains are just as excruciating as the emotional, mental, psychic, and spiritual pains."

Baltor looked up into the kind eyes of Trendon before slowly nodding his head three times.

Almost as an afterthought, Trendon snapped his fingers just before he informed, "Oh...something else you need to know right now. Within the cosmic heavens, souls are continuously being generated that spread out throughout the multiverses and beyond, while filling new life forms. For each great soul that takes a physical or spiritual form, there erupts from the furious planes of hell an anti-soul to taint and destroy its counterpart!"

He pointed his index finger at Baltor, and said, "You have not had the opportunity to meet your 'anti-soul' just yet, but when you do, you'll know it, and so will that other person, when he or she meets you! In other words, Baltor, you have had since before your birth an enemy whose sole mission is to destroy you, an enemy of equal power! Only once you have destroyed your counterpart can you truly transcend to the next stage!"

After giving Baltor a few moments to digest all that critical information, Trendon promised, "As for me, I am here to help you, Baltor, to fulfill your rightful destiny...if you should accept my proposal."

Baltor nodded.

"Do you accept my proposal?"

Baltor nodded again and confirmed, "Yes, I do."

Trendon concluded, _Be_ _fo_ _r_ _e_ _w_ _e_ _c_ _o_ _mm_ _e_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _w_ _it_ _h_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _t_ _r_ _a_ _n_ _s_ _fo_ _rm_ _a_ _t_ _i_ _o_ _n_ _,_ _I_ _h_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _t_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _u_ _l_ _e_ _s_ _fo_ _r_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _._ _O_ _n_ _e_ _,_ _n_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _r_ _e_ _v_ _ea_ _l_ _w_ _h_ _a_ _t y_ _o_ _u'_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _b_ _o_ _ut_ _t_ _o_ _b_ _e_ _c_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _t_ _o_ _a_ _ny_ _o_ _n_ _e_ _._ _T_ _w_ _o_ _,_ _n_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _c_ _r_ _ea_ _t_ _e_ _a_ _n_ _o_ _t_ _he_ _r v_ _o_ _m_ _pa_ _r_ _e_ _us_ _w_ _i_ _t_ _h_ _o_ _ut_ _m_ _y_ _e_ _x_ _p_ _r_ _e_ _ss_ _e_ _d_ _c_ _o_ _n_ _s_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _,_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _n_ _i_ _f_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _l_ _ea_ _r_ _n_ _h_ _o_ _w_ _—_ _b_ _r_ _ea_ _k_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _s_ _e_ _r_ _u_ _l_ _e_ _s_ _,_ _e_ _v_ _e_ _n_ _o_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _,_ _a_ _nd_ _I_ _w_ _i_ _l_ _l_ _d_ _e_ _st_ _r_ _o_ _y_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _a_ _nd_ _y_ _o_ _ur_ _c_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _ti_ _o_ _n_ _b_ _a_ _c_ _k_ _i_ _n_ _t_ _o_ _o_ _b_ _l_ _i_ _v_ _i_ _o_ _n_ _i_ _n_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _n_ _e_ _x_ _t_ _m_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _!_ _D_ _o_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _un_ _d_ _e_ _r_ _s_ _t_ _a_ _nd_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _a_ _g_ _r_ _e_ _e_ _t_ _o_ _m_ _y_ _t_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _u_ _l_ _e_ _s_ _?_

With ever-growing fear, Baltor nodded a few times, but this fear did not come because of the verbal threat.

It was because, as soon as Trendon had finished asking his question, his body had quickly begun to transform _from a human and into something else_! The fingernails turned into foot-and-a-half long claws while the hands tripled in size and turned to onyx. At the same time, his human face had transformed into the face of an onyx gargoyle beast. Vampire fangs now pointed down from its mouth, a set of curvy horns protruded up and outward from its forehead, and of course, it had glowing red eyes!

His gray robes next disappeared, revealing a crystalline/muscle-packed chest, arms, torso, legs, and feet that continued to grow quite rapidly. Furthermore, erupting from behind the abominable beast that now stood at twenty feet tall were two abnormally large pairs of clawed wings that spread themselves out into the heavens.

As the creature drew closer, right after the transformation, Baltor managed to stammer out, "Why me?"

_IT_ answered in a hollow whisper, " _Because you have been found worthy..._ "

Before Baltor even had the chance to flee, which he was about to do, the horrifying monster thrust one of its razor-sharp claws deep into his stomach, and the nail broke off! Baltor screamed out in agony beyond comprehension!

Not even a split-second later, IT disappeared back into oblivion.

The room around Baltor began to swirl between reality and darkness. Agonizing moment after moment passed as he—slowly and agonizingly—felt that claw somehow inch its way of its own accord up through his abdomen, and into his chest cavity. Upon rupturing his heart, what seemed an eternity later, he screamed one final time, only a moment before Death overtook his life!

## CHAPTER XV

An unknown amount of time had passed before Baltor's mind returned to consciousness, which greatly surprised him as he thought he was dead and would never wake up again. However, his sense of touch revealed that sand buried him from head-to-toe, which meant that he did not need to breathe air, which proved that he had indeed become "undead!"

Despite this uncomfortable situation with sand just about everywhere, his eyes, his mouth, and yes, even his nostrils and earlobes had somehow closed throughout his slumber time. And even now they remained shut as he began to dig himself out of the ground. Never in his past had he been able to close his lobes and nostrils, nor had he heard of anyone who could.

Even without a single clue as to the time, date, or location, he greatly hoped that he had been buried somewhere underneath the sands of the Sharia Desert near the city walls of Pavelus—his home and final destination. And soon enough, he would be able to report to the High Council about the seven-month quest to date that his analytical mind revealed just then.

Once standing on solid ground, he commenced to dusting off most of the sand before trying to figure out his location. The muffled sounds he heard, due to his closed earlobes, revealed that he stood near a raging ocean. _P_ _er_ _h_ _a_ _p_ _s_ _th_ _e_ _S_ _e_ _a_ _of_ _A_ _l_ _b_ _u_ _s_ _i_ _n_ _a?_

While dusting, his sense of touch felt his clothes, boots, and arrowhead necklace, as well a piece of parchment tucked inside the front of his shirt. His left hand reached down to his right side—his saber was gone, but the sheath remained attached to his belt.

Once he had cleared enough of the sand, he opened all his orifices before looking all around the sandy dunes for his saber, just in case danger happened to be nearby. Unfortunately, he could not locate his weapon anywhere, but fortunately, the coast was clear.

He next gazed at the sea that began with the crashing waves about twenty feet away. Though neither moon floated in the skies, thousands of stars twinkled over that vast and dark sea alone.

He sighed aloud, "Perhaps this is the Sea of Albusina, and if I but turn my head one direction or the other, I will see Pavelus...right?"

While dusting off the sand from his clothes to make himself look presentable, he turned his head to look both directions, yet spotted no signs of civilization at all anywhere.

With a confused look on his face, Baltor spun a one-eighty. He witnessed the last fractional bit of sun disappear behind the dense layer of trees that lay just beyond the last of the sandy dunes about three hundred feet away.

Upon realizing that he faced to the west with the sea behind him to the east, this meant that this could not be the Sea of Albusina at all.

Suddenly, Baltor's mind began to ask these series of questions, _A_ _m_ _I_ _eve_ _n_ _on_ _t_ _he_ _sa_ _m_ _e_ _c_ _on_ _t_ _i_ _n_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _?_ _M_ _a_ _y_ _b_ _e_ _I'_ _m_ _on_ _a_ _d_ _i_ _ff_ _e_ _r_ _e_ _nt_ _pl_ _an_ _e_ _t altogether_ _, or_ _m_ _a_ _y_ _b_ _e_ _eve_ _n_ _ano_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _d_ _i_ _m_ _e_ _ns_ _i_ _on_ _a_ _l_ _p_ _l_ _ane_ _of_ _ex_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _e_ _n_ _ce_ _,_ _b_ _ut_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _n_ _i_ _f_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _l_ _ast_ _p_ _o_ _ss_ _i_ _b_ _ilit_ _y_ _w_ _e_ _re_ _t_ _ru_ _e_ _,_ _w_ _hy_ _w_ _ou_ _l_ _d_ _I_ _b_ _e_ _b_ _ur_ _i_ _e_ _d_ _u_ _n_ _de_ _rn_ _e_ _a_ _t_ _h sa_ _n_ _d at all_ _?_

Shortly after he had finished with these series of questions, he sighed before saying aloud, "Obviously if any of these answers are true, then that means it would be pointless to go west, as there is no Pavelus in that direction. So where should I go?"

After asking his final question, he only then observed a sliver of the all-too-familiar gray moon in the northeastern skies, as it rose above the sea's horizon. Although he could not locate the other moon, he knew that he was on his planet.

A few more minutes passed, yet never did he receive "a solid answer" for his last question of which way to go, internal or external. He started to become frustrated.

Several minutes later, and still without any answers, he grew so upset that he screamed out to the sea, "So where in the hell should I go!"

Other than the continuous sounds of the waves crashing into the coastline, still another minute of silence passed.

Baltor, in severe agitation, shifted his body to look to the north to scream out his question once more. At the same time, the parchment tucked in his shirt moved a little.

He pulled it out, blew off the excess dust, and then gazed at it carefully—it was the bottom half to the world-map! After lightly slapping himself in the head with his left hand, Baltor's eyes mysteriously began to translate the second half of the message. It read: ' _ALL_ _th_ _a_ _t_ _th_ _i_ _s_ _C_ _h_ _o_ _s_ _e_ _n_ _O_ _n_ _e_ _h_ _a_ _s_ _c_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _t_ _e_ _d_ _,_ _so_ _th_ _a_ _t_ _L_ _a_ _w_ _a_ _n_ _d Order_ _will_ _p_ _re_ _v_ _a_ _i_ _l_ _until the End of Time_ _w_ _i_ _th_ _i_ _n_ _th_ _e_ _s_ _e_ _U_ _n_ _i_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _s_ _a_ _l_ _R_ _e_ _a_ _l_ _m_ _s,_ _w_ _h_ _i_ _c_ _h_ _th_ _e_ _abominable_ _e_ _v_ _i_ _l_ _Vo_ _m_ _p_ _a_ _re_ _u_ _s_ _—_ _o_ _th_ _erw_ _i_ _s_ _e_ _k_ _n_ _o_ _w_ _n_ _a_ _s_ _th_ _e_ _v_ _a_ _m_ _p_ _i_ _r_ _ic_ _-_ _b_ _ea_ _st_ _-over_ _l_ _o_ _r_ _d_ _s—_ _s_ _e_ _e_ _k first_ _t_ _o_ _conquer_ _a_ _n_ _d_ _th_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _o_ _utterly_ _d_ _e_ _s_ _t_ _r_ _o_ _y through Chaos_ _!_ '

As he finished reading the final word, he clearly heard Trendon's voice say inside his mind, _G_ _o_ _w_ _e_ _s_ _t_ _,_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _n_ _g_ _m_ _a_ _n_ _._ _G_ _o_ _w_ _e_ _st_ _!_

After tucking the parchment into his shirt, Baltor turned to the west and began to run—only two seconds later, he reached the maximum speed of sixty mph! Of course, he couldn't help but feel ecstatic about his superhuman speed, but just as ecstatic for him was learning that his inhuman dexterity allowed him to maneuver past the sandy beaches, and through the thick, lush, dark jungles.

Nearly twelve minutes and a dozen miles later, however, he had no choice but to stop near the middle of a decent-sized prairie surrounded by trees. He had not stopped due to being tired or out of breath, but because about five seconds and a hundred feet earlier, the map had slipped out of his shirt and fallen to the ground.

Before he had the chance to turn around, retrieve the map, and recommence to running to the west, his nostrils unexpectedly smelled the smells of living animals coming from somewhere upstream—his stomach grumbled from hunger pains.

He sniffed the air again, turning his head over toward the direction of the odors. His night-vision eyesight dramatically increased like binoculars, discovering fourteen adult animals and four babies grazing on some tall grass about eight hundred feet away.

They looked like pigs, except for the pair of the curved horns that wrapped around their head several times.

Baltor's human-mind faded to black only a split-second later while his beast-mind emerged and dominated. Even before the animals even had a chance to react, the beast had already crossed the long distance, ripped into the neck of one of the adults, and ravenously feasted!

Though the fresh blood ever-so-slightly quenched the predator's hunger, it did not like the taste of this prey's blood at all—it was not human blood. Not surprising, all of the other animals had run away.

Therefore, as soon as dinner had concluded, Baltor's human-mind regained control. He discovered—with shock—that there were no traces of blood anywhere, yet the rest of the shriveled-up animal was intact. Just as shocking, his clothes and boots were on his body and completely intact!

Closing his eyes, he lifted his hands up into the skies that had only just begun to lighten up to the east, and screamed out into the heavens, "What, oh God, have I become?"

After many minutes had passed, yet without any external answers, he began to shoot for the internal answers. His thoughts contemplated his conversation with Trendon, specifically to the part when he had told Baltor that he was about to become a vompareus, or as he would understand...a vampire.

Once again, he proceeded to think long and hard about everything that he knew about these undead evil creatures, especially now that he was one himself. Other than that one book, no other useful information existed in his deepest of memories...

Due to all his contemplations and his eyes remaining shut, he had not been paying attention to the fact that the skies were lightening up, thanks to the sun that was now only a dozen or so seconds from rising to the east.

He opened his eyes just as the sun's first indirect ray poked into the morning sky, and quickly scanned his horizons—the light was already unbearable and painful! He noticed that at the southern end of this prairie about a thousand feet away, a massive foothill stood, covered with jungle trees, bushes, and grass.

Looking the way he had come, he detected the map lying on the ground about four hundred feet away. He looked back over to the hill, only then noticing a cave at the base in the middle. Without hesitation, he ran toward the map, and only a second later, he picked it up. Moving just as fast, he reached the entrance of the cave.

Once inside, he turned around and looked out. The sun's rays had just burst over the eastern horizon, shedding its light onto the land; a light that forced him to shut his eyes as it proved to be too bright and painful! Therefore, he turned around, tucked the map inside his shirt, and then proceeded deeper into the darkest recesses of the cave.

The fresh smell of animal crossed his nostrils only a few seconds later, and he suspected that he was not alone in this cave. That confirmation came as a giant black bear stood up from its sleeping spot in another part of the cave, with teeth bared and with a low-pitched growling noise.

Due to the low height of the cave, the bear could not stand up on its hindquarters, but it did casually approach on all fours. Once it drew nearer, it began to kick up dirt with its front paws, stirring dust into the air.

Baltor instinctively reached for his saber, only to realize again that it was not there, yet from that simple movement alone, he felt super-weak. And as the seconds passed, he came to realize; he felt super-exhausted.

With his peripherals, he quickly searched throughout the cave for a weapon though his pupils remained locked on the bear. Except for a bunch of bones scattered throughout the cave, he saw nothing useful. _B_ _e_ _tt_ _e_ _r_ _t_ _hat_ _t_ _han_ _no_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _ng!_

He somersaulted backward away from the bear while simultaneously picking up the longest bone in reach—a foot-long thigh bone.

Once he had risen back to his feet, he realized that it had a sharp point at the end, not unlike a stiletto, and that it might prove to be a decent weapon after all—he readied it for the bear that had neared to eight feet away.

The bear growled ferociously before sweeping both of its front paws into the dirt yet again, which caused a lot more dirt and dust to fly up in the air—then it charged toward him!

Though blind, Baltor heard the stampeding approach of the bear—at the right moment, he rolled to his left and jabbed his weapon like a stiletto!

The bear roared in pain and anger as it felt the bone plunge deep into its upper-back before it stopped, turned its head, and bit its sharp teeth deeply into Baltor's shoulder!

Although he yelped out in pain, he never stopped his jabs with the bone; the bear finally received a fatal puncture in the neck, fell right on top of Baltor, and died...

Despite his best attempts, he could not squeeze his way out from underneath the immense weight of the bear—he felt too weak, exhausted, and sleepy.

Then, without even realizing it, he fell asleep; and only moments later, a dream began to form.

Within this dream, Baltor could only see that he floated in the middle of the air inside a black area of unknown proportions. Though no sources of light at all existed anywhere, he, upon glancing at himself, could see himself as if standing outside in broad daylight.

Just after pinching himself to be sure that he wasn't dreaming while surprisingly feeling substance, he began to suspect that maybe he was now in another dimension!

As he glanced around one more time, he confirmed that there were absolutely no sources of light, or anything else, anywhere else. He purposefully yelled aloud, "Is this all a dream...or am I in all actuality awake?"

This very question echoed all around the void about a dozen times until silence took over. Meanwhile, he waited patiently for any answer.

Suddenly, his eyes spotted a bright and prismatic twinkle from an unknown light source far, far off in the distance—a twinkle that lasted only a nanosecond.

He attempted to try to scan in that area that continued to remain in utter darkness, but his eyes could see nothing. That is until that star re-emerged a few moments later, but again, it remained for a split-second.

It was then that he began to wonder if maybe he was seeing a flickering star, though it did become a bit bigger each random time it flashed.

As soon as the slow-approaching star had quadrupled in size, twelve times later, Baltor realized it to be no star, yet a glowing sword that spun all around in the middle of the air.

The sword floated to within five feet of Baltor's position, with its pommel pointing straight up and its blade straight down, before it stopped moving, twirling, and spinning. Once it had stopped, his eyes only then recognized this to be the sword that had been his father's most-important treasure.

The dream did not end there; rather, it added the complete backdrop of his father's workshop behind the sword, where it once again rested inside his father's trophy case.

Because Baltor was still aware that he was within the parameters of a dream and that his father was dead, he became quite surprised to see and hear his father walk into his field of vision with that all-too-familiar limp. The man unlocked and opened the glass trophy case, and then carefully pulled the sword out with both hands.

Baltor's father turned to face his son before he declared with pride, "Countless hours of meticulous work has my dad, your grandfather, invested in creating this priceless, artistic masterpiece—you've never met the man, for he died five years before you were born. Yet despite the fact that Grandpa Veran spent the remainder of his life trying to make a duplicate sword, all his best attempts ended in failure."

For some unknown reason at that moment, Baltor gazed down at his own hands. He discovered with astonishment that they were youthful in appearance, as when he was nine years old.

"Baltor, you need to pay attention to me when I'm talking to you. Now please look at the sword, okay?"

Almost surprisingly, Baltor heard his boyhood voice saying, "Yes, Popa." His eyes averted to the blade that his father gestured toward with his left hand.

As soon as the father saw that he had his son's attention, he said, "As you can see, boy, your grandfather used a whole lot of valuable materials to construct her—gold, diamonds, ivory, and of course, the platinum. Don't be deceived in thinking that there's even an ounce of silver in this sword, which tarnishes so quickly. Platinum is worth twice the value of gold, and like gold, it rarely ever needs polishing..."

He took a deep breath before adding, "She was not created to kill, or designed for combat, but merely be an artistic masterpiece! Not even on his dying day would he tell how he got the money for the materials to make this sword, or for the materials to make a duplicate. I had no choice but to sell these materials about six years back, in order to keep this shop running when business was very slow, and rent was overdue...

"Thankfully, I—we—still don't have to worry about paying rent for the next ten years, and business is doing good nowadays. So after I retire when you're about thirty, in which you will know everything you need to know how to run the shop on your own efficiently, the shop will be yours. And depending on how good you do, I may finally be able to retire and spend the quality time with your mother that she so richly deserves. Understand?"

"Yes, Popa."

"Son, let me talk a little more about what _s_ _h_ _e_ can do...this sword. _S_ _h_ _e_ can chop off a man's head with but one light swipe! After all, this three-foot-long blade of steel had been folded hundreds of times over, and as you can see, it is paper-thin, measuring at 1/1000th of an inch. In other words, very few blades in the entire world can match this one."

Following his explanation, he proceeded to pull an apple out of his pocket before tossing it up into the air. Once it had risen to its maximum height, he flicked his sword-bearing wrist side-to-side one time. This action caused not only the sword to sing loudly for a moment, yet for the apple to fall to the ground in three pieces!

Baltor exclaimed, " _W_ _h_ _o_ _a_ _!_ "

"Now, my son, feast your eyes upon the pommel, but please do not touch the sword," his father added before carefully flipping the sword around until his hands cupped around the blade. The front of the pommel now faced Baltor.

The first thing the boy noticed was a golden hawk's head that served as the pommel—a head with two large diamonds representing its eyes. Next, it was the vanilla-colored leather grip around the handle, secured together by leather string. Finally, came the defensive bracers, with a golden sun-disk on one side and a platinum moon-disk on the other—on both sides sat a pair of ivory hawks that had been safely tucked inside the curvy defensive bracers made of solid steel.

His father asked about a quarter-minute later, "Again, you can see the countless number of hours that your grandfather spent on this sword, eh?"

Baltor's head nodded a few times in complete agreement.

His father twisted the sword around until the top of the pommel faced the boy. He then said, "On the top of the head, you can even see our family's royal crest etched into it, which according to Grandpa Veran, originated back more than a millennium. He told me, as his father told him, and so on and so on, that our ancestors once ruled a great Province far larger than the Sharia Empire. Our ancestors went by the name of the Elysians, but something happened where we lost the entire empire."

He sighed deeply before adding, "Your grandfather also told me that, as a youth, he had found the design on an old parchment in an old trunk in the basement before showing it to your Great-grandfather Pabs. That was when your great grandfather explained the meaning of the crest, and our ancestral heritage, to him..."

He gave the boy a few seconds to digest that information. He then said, "Ironically enough, it was only three months after Grandpa Veran married Grandma Blasa that, while in the process of making this very sword, he had a horseback-riding accident that caused both of his legs to become paralyzed. You never met your grandmother before, since she passed away eight years before you were born—she was a wonderful woman to the end."

At this point, his eyes looked wistful for a few seconds before his mouth sucked in a deep breath, and he said, "And when I was about your age; that was when your grandpa first showed me the sword he had made while telling me all that I'm telling you now. Even way back then though, it was too late for me to ever become a hero, as I had popped my left kneecap out at the age of five from falling out of a tall tree."

He had to swat away a fly that had landed on his right ear before he could add, "As for the reasons why no other of our family members have tried, I do not know, but I'm sure there must have been a good reason in every case. Your grandfather even believed in a chosen one, but I do not. I keep my head firmly rooted in the ground so that I can make ends meet for our family. As you well know, we may not be rich, but we certainly survive. So, who knows? One day, this sword and everything it represents will be your inheritance. That is...if you can beat the family curse..."

He paused in what he had to say in order to look around the shop. After looking back at his son, he concluded, "But now is not the time to think about such matters. For now, we must keep our heads firmly grounded in reality, as we have three dozen horseshoes to make before dinner tonight. Okay?"

"Okay, Popa."

Baltor took a final look at the crest while his father gently placed the sword back into its proper spot in the trophy case before closing it and locking it up.

Without warning, the parameters of the dream changed into "utter darkness," snuffing out the view of the sword and everything else—and in the next moment, still in the dream, he discovered that he was lying in his old bed in his parents' house.

Just like the night that his parents had been murdered, he became petrified upon hearing his father's outraged cries a few moments later. Even though the adult-Baltor knew what was about to happen, he tried to speak...to warn...to scream...his voice remained mute. He then attempted to get out of bed, but his body remained frozen.

History repeated itself—first, he heard his father's cut-off scream, and then came his mother's screaming and warning that started and stopped! At that moment, just like that fateful night, his body became unfrozen, and he managed to get out of bed, slip on his clothes and shoes, and crawl out the window—that was all he could do.

As he climbed across the roof this time, he saw _something_ moving on the ground that he hadn't remembered seeing that night, perhaps due to his fearful, shocked, and devastated state.

This time, he detected an animal parked in the alley behind the shop. Scanning closer, he realized this animal to be a powerful-looking white warhorse; hanging from its youthful neck, it bore a gold crest on the front with two crossed sabers—the crest of the Sultan.

It was then that the dream faded into nothingness just before Baltor's actual eyes popped open. Even where he lay inside the cave with the seven-hundred-pound bear still on top of him, he knew that it was nighttime.

He first tried to push off the animal, in which he believed that he was still physically weak; but this time, he found—with great surprise—that it was like removing a featherweight. He once again had his superhuman strength!

After rising to his feet, he examined his shoulder where the bear had bitten him. Interestingly enough, although his shirt remained torn, his skin had not a single scratch or bruise...he didn't even see any sort of scarring.

As he moved his shoulder all around to confirm, all the while without an ounce of pain, he noticed that the leech scars had completely disappeared on his arms, as was gone the arrowhead scar on his forearm. However, these little movements caused his stomach to gurgle hungrily.

He wasted no time exiting the cave, all the while looking for something alive to eat, as his stomach quickly revealed that it wasn't just hungry yet famished!

He first scanned the prairie out, but as he saw no decent-sized animals around, he ran westbound back into the thick clusters of trees. Although his powers had diminished by half from the night prior, he was all-too-aware that he ran at the speed of thirty mph—and that was incredibly fast!

It seemed only minutes had passed before his nostrils detected the smell of fresh meat. His beast-mind once again took over for an unknown amount time...

Once his human-mind had returned, he discovered—with shock and disgust—that he had just feasted on the blood of an ape. Though he continued to hear the sounds of other gorillas screaming from within the trees, he no longer felt famished yet he did feel repulsed from his vampiric act. Therefore, he continued in his voyage westbound, ignoring those light hunger pains. That turned out to be a huge mistake!

Ten minutes or so before dawn, he was on the brink of starving, feeling oh so weak and hungry—all night long had he searched for food yet without any luck. Even worse, the last cave he had run across occurred about four hours ago, about one hundred and twenty miles away, and he knew of no caves around his current location. He commenced to searching for a cave.

About a half-minute before sunrise, he gave up in his search just before furiously digging a six-foot-deep hole in the dirt. He had just finished covering his head when the sunlight penetrated the area, and he passed out...

The next night, he awoke with such an intense hunger that his entire midsection hurt like someone had beaten him up with a club! All the while, his stomach gurgled and growled non-stop.

Through the agony, he crawled out of the dirt just before scanning through the thick forest of trees. At the same time, his nostrils sniffed the air, trying to detect the scent of some living creature with blood—not the worms and underground bugs still crawling all over his body. Unfortunately, he could detect no animals nearby, and so he hightailed it west—running at a speed of fifteen mph.

About a dozen or so minutes later, the jungle forest transformed into a small prairie filled with field grass, just as the mostly cloudy skies began to pour down rain. He did not care about the rain, but rather, the animals that stood at the far end of the prairie.

Three abnormally long-necked animals with orange and black polka dots all over their bodies feasted on the leaves at the top of tall and lush trees.

Never before had he encountered such an animal, but his beast-mind did not comprehend or even care. The only thing _i_ _t_ knew was that it was time to eat. In the blink of an eye, t _h_ _e_ _b_ _ea_ _st_ attacked one of these creatures before gorging away on the blood.

Although it felt to _th_ _e_ _b_ _ea_ _st_ that _i_ _t_ had drunk a ton of blood before this large animal turned dry, _i_ _t_ did not feel satisfied at all, as if this prey had only been a side salad. Therefore, _i_ _t_ tracked down another of the same species and consumed it as well.

This time, Baltor's human-mind returned. Though he felt much better though not full, he continued along his way. Shortly before morning, he found an empty cave and slept in it during the day.

The following night, after he had begun running, he discovered with disappointment that his powers and speed had faded to normal and he no longer had night-vision.

Even more disappointing was the fact that he could find no game anywhere around all night long, feeling all the while like he was "starving to death!" Thankfully, he never ran out of breath nor did his legs ever get tired.

Shortly before morning, he had no choice but to dig a grave, as he hadn't seen any caves whatsoever—he seriously hated sleeping in the dirt because of the bugs. That night, he traveled on.

And for the next two days to follow right before sunrise, he had to dig graves to protect himself from the rays of the sun. The only good thing going for Baltor during the nights was that he had been able to find just enough animals to keep him alive.

Upon reaching the borders of the mountains, he chose to head north and cross the mountains via another path. After all, he did not want to eat any of the friendly folk from Valakan, even accidentally.

So north is where he headed for about ten miles until he ran across the next passable valley. Though the blizzard-like weather conditions and freezing temperatures would have frozen to death the unprepared traveler, he startlingly noted that it had no effect on him, whatsoever.

It took him an entire week to cross through the mountains moving in a west-southwestern direction while always luckily finding caves to sleep in during the day, and wolves or other small animals to keep him barely alive at night.

Not one time since becoming a vampire had he run across a human—that was about to change.

## CHAPTER XVI

Just after sunset the following night, Baltor sucked the blood from a coyote that he had hunted down, though it did absolutely nothing to curb his thirst and hunger. Although his mouth voiced no complaints, his stomach certainly made up for the silence through its continuous whining and grumbling while his now human-mind did its best to ignore the sounds.

After having traveled through the final valley and all the way up to the tallest mountain at the far end on the left, he noticed that the area ahead abruptly transformed into the Sharia Desert.

He took his time gazing out all across these sandy dunes as well the other mountains around him, soon realizing that he must still be an unknown distance north of where he had initially entered the mountain pass. Of course, his initial goal had been to reach the fertile valley. Shortly after that, he began running southwest to compensate.

After having traveled halfway through the night without any moons or encounters at all, he unpredictably discovered a bonfire up far ahead in the distance, perhaps a dozen miles away.

As he drew to about a mile away, he could tell that this fire was located within the confines of a rather large oasis that contained a large lagoon, hundreds of bushes and trees, a dozen large tents, a half-dozen or so parked wagons, and a bunch of people camping all around.

Once about five hundred feet away, he counted out twenty-four people within his field of vision while noticing that three-quarters of them engaged in a celebratory party. Of course, this number did not include those people inside wagons, or tents, or anyone outside of Baltor's field of vision.

He continued walking that direction, all the while wondering if there might be "a vermin" amongst this group...someone he could feast upon without anyone watching.

Just then, a bald man with a shorty pointy black goatee—wearing a snazzy green outfit that had many silver-colored swirls sewn throughout the long-sleeved shirt—climbed onto the top of a covered wagon before beginning to make a wide variety of beep-box sounds with his mouth, including a drumbeat. Quite a melodic tune, as it turned out...

Joining him about a quarter-minute later was another man who had shoulder-length blonde hair, a red beard with about six beard-beads in it, and a black outfit. He began to hum along with a deep voice that was in perfect harmony with the other man. In fact, this tune sounded incredible to Baltor's ears!

As soon as this humming man had begun to sing the words to this song, everyone else in the group joined in the singing as well—in the language of Pavelian.

"Yo—ho—ho,

I've got this song I know!

You—hoo—hoo,

I've got some news for you!

I was alone and lost,

Being pulled, whipped, and tossed!

It wasn't until just yesterday,

That I joined my family at play!

And we sang, yo—ho—ho,

We've got this song we know!

And we sang, you—hoo—hoo,

We've got some news for you!

Family is my number one goal,

Harmony is what makes me flow!

You wanna mess with the best,

You gonna die like the rest!

And we sang, yo—ho—ho,

We've got this song we know!

And we sang, you—hoo—hoo,

We've got some news for you!

We have come, never gone,

We're just hidden in this song!

Strike that bell and make your ding,

Imagine the treasures that we will bring!

And we sang, yo—ho—ho,

We've got this song we know!

And we sang, you—hoo—hoo,

We've got some news for you!"

Precisely at the same time that this song ended, Baltor stumbled out of the depths of the darkness by entering the perimeter of the torchlights. He purposefully made it look like he had been traveling through the desert for a very long time without water, yet it wasn't water that he craved. Still, even though he relished in the song, he knew there had to be at least one vermin amongst this group.

Many of the members, in which most were men, glanced at this newcomer as he stumbled by, but nobody said a word to him—they continued to talk amongst each other while drinking their alcoholic beverages.

Twenty feet away from the bonfire, Baltor stopped and gazed at it for a few seconds. He then noticed a large fat man with a long black beard who sat on a palm tree log on the other side of the fire.

At the same time, this man apparently noticed Baltor, for he raised his mug while saying with a slightly drunken slur, "Who are you, stranger?"

Baltor cocked back his head for a second before answering, "I am Lord Poleax from Pavelus."

Just as he had finished speaking, his peripheral detected to his right about thirty feet away—a person attempt to stand up. This person had initially been sitting on the ground with his or her legs crossed and his or her back leaning against a palm tree; however, he or she collapsed back to the ground, most likely due to his or her drunken state. This person's gender and identity remained unknown the entire time because he or she wore a black cape with an attached hood pulled over his or her head, thus casting his or her face into shadow.

The man with the beard either did not notice or care that this person had fallen, as he declared robustly, "Lord Poleax from Pavelus—well then, come and join me for a drink! My friends call me Big Bear." He proceeded to chortle a few times.

Baltor smiled—he was indeed ready for a drink. He sat down on the log a few feet away from the man before attempting to politely respond the words, "Nice to meet you, Big Bear," but he physically couldn't. His throat had unexpectedly become quite itchy, and so he attempted to clear his throat three times so he could speak.

Big Bear kept silent throughout this time.

Baltor attempted to speak once more, yet that itch that forbade him to speak initially was still there; furthermore, to make matters worse, his chest had just begun palpitating hard, and it was now becoming hard to breathe!

Big Bear extended the mug to Baltor before saying, "Drink it all, Lord Poleax. You seriously look like you need it, my friend!"

Baltor took the mug and tried to take a long swig. However, the moment that the fluids touched the insides of his mouth, that mouth forced him to spit it out onto the ground—it was repulsive, to say the least.

Big Bear laughed, patted him a couple of times on the shoulder, and said, "Sure it takes a bit of getting used to, but it'll get you feeling nice and cozy once you do—please, take another deep swig!"

Baltor shook his head while choking out the words, "No thanks."

Big Bear patted him heartily on the back a few times before saying, "Come on! What'll it harm you? It's just some wine!"

Baltor attempted to hand the mug back to Big Bear while rasping, "No really."

Big Bear looked quite offended as he stood to his feet, pulled out his dagger, and growled, "I said, _drink!_ "

"Are you threatening me?" Baltor somehow managed to ask through his dry mouth while setting the mug onto the log. He rose to his feet and assumed the ready position.

Big Bear shook his head, dropped the dagger, and sighed, "I'm sorry... I don't know where that came from. It's just that the wine takes a bit of getting used to, but once you do—you'll love it! My wife spends a lot of time preparing it for—"

At that moment, the hooded person stood to his or her feet, and interrupted in a strangely familiar man's voice, "The brat's obviously not going to drink the stinking wine! Let's just kill 'em now and get it over with, Big Bear. Surely, he's got to have the rod or the map on his person somewhere, probably hidden somewhere the sun does not shine! We'll just have to find out now, won't we, boys?"

Quite a few of the men laughed—Big Bear chuckled along while nodding and picking up his dagger. Baltor did not laugh or even smile, yet he did begin to scan around the crowd, looking for the worst threats.

Just then, the hooded man purposefully pulled back his hood, so that Baltor could see his face—Salmot.

Baltor no longer contained himself as he lunged toward his enemy. Before Salmot had the chance even to draw his sword, Baltor had already clotheslined him to the ground, leaped on top, and sank his vampire fangs deep in Salmot's jugular vein!

In the blink of an eye, Baltor's body transformed into the twenty-foot-tall vompareus while ravenously feasting upon his enemy's blood! Unbeknownst to him, every previous time he had feasted, his body remained in human form.

Upon everyone seeing this physical transformation, they all freaked out—those that could run into the desert, including Big Bear, ran for their lives!

Those that couldn't move due to being too intoxicated watched in utter shock, horror, and disgust as the monster continuously feasted on Salmot—not only did quite a few pass out from fear, several more became violently sick and threw up all over themselves.

Aside from the physical transformation, a mental transformation simultaneously occurred; Baltor's bestial side and human side had just become connected. Simply put, he had the instincts of an animal combined with the intelligence of a man—actually, two men.

After all, Salmot's entire life flashed before his own eyes. Not only did Baltor learn all of the man's master thievery skills, yet many more interesting things.

For example, Salmot had been the person who first introduced Thesmul to the Guild—yet no one in the Guild knew that Thesmul was Salmot's nephew. Another example, Salmot happened to be a double agent for the last two decades with the thieves' guild in Mauritia. Still another, he had been the one to ensure that, for the last six years, Humonus had been passed for promotion to Senior Drill Instructor three different times, and all because of what happened to his nephew—Salmot evilly hated Baltor and Humonus.

Just as evilly, Salmot had secretly arranged and bribed three-quarters of the other High Council to make Lydia a Ruling-Mistress Thief at such an early age. The underlying reason why he spent nearly ten million parsecs...not because he believed she was High Council material, but that he wanted her to be _his material_ , which eventually worked out that way only six months before Baltor had asked her out on a date. The whole time Salmot knew her, he deceivingly made it appear as if he loved and cared about her. Up until the last second of his life, everything that Salmot did was to satisfy his lustful desires. He never cared about Lydia, the Guild, or anyone else.

Though the night skies previously had been cloudless, from across the western horizon they came and quickly—deep, dark, thick, and angry clouds filled with dazzling bolts of green lightning—a raging thunderstorm it looked to be!

As soon as the last drop of Salmot's blood and life force had entered Baltor's mouth, he rose to his feet.

From all around, the winds picked up to the point it sounded like screaming banshees, causing dry sand to fly everywhere through the air. Only a few moments later, large drops of rain splattered down, fast-drenching all those around.

Baltor did not care about the sand or rain but tilted his head back and roared like a monster, which sounds filled the stormy skies!

A few seconds had passed before an answer from the heavens came, as a loud clapping of thunder rolled across the fast-moving clouds while thousands of green lightning bolts zigzagged just about everywhere in the skies!

At the same time, Baltor discovered, ecstatically, that he possessed two sets of wings on his back that allowed him to fly higher and higher into the air. Just below him on the ground, thirty feet below to be precise at this moment, he could see the fearful expressions of the people gazing up.

He flew up to the altitude of fifty feet before hovering. Through the pouring rain, his eyes scanned all across the desert—one second later, he found his target.

With but a willed thought, he flew toward Big Bear, who continued to hightail it across the desert sands—the man who had pretended to be a friend to get Baltor drunk and pass out, so he could easily be killed!

In the time it takes to snap a finger, Baltor had already caught up to his target before engulfing this man's blood, as well his memories.

He learned that Big Bear was "no good guy" either, although he pretended to be such to his unsuspecting victims whom he typically robbed and murdered. Yes, "victims" being the appropriate pluralistic word. If that was not enough, there were six times during Vamen's life that he had backstabbed those that called him a "friend" or "family member."

From all the intoxicating bloods and knowledge that now flowed through Baltor's mind, reality became distorted and blurry until he saw and felt as if he flew through the skies—several moments later, he blacked out.

Right after sunset the next night, he awoke to find himself buried underneath the earth, with no knowledge of how he had found his way underground, or where he was. Now, he only knew that it was night, and for the first time in a very long time, his stomach felt full.

He pulled himself out of the ground, and after standing upon one of the rolling dunes, he noticed that he still wore his clothes and boots. As soon as he discovered the map tucked underneath his shirt, he looked all around his terrain, beginning northbound.

The first thing he noticed—both moons orbited in the sky above. The gray moon that was three-quarters-full circled to the northwest while the red moon orbited to the northeast. Because of all the moonlights, he could barely see any stars.

The next thing he noticed—with surprise—were the city walls of Pavelus that lay about a mile or so to the west, in which the western wall cast six-hundred-foot-long shadows. The sun had set only moments earlier, and thus much of the starless skies this direction contained six different shades of blue.

As his eyes strayed to the south-southwest, he discovered—with even more surprise—a building that he had not seen before. Now under construction, a massive coliseum stood about a half-mile to the south of the city, in which three-quarters of this structure was still incomplete.

While glancing back at the city itself, he only then remembered that he had been able to fly the night before, so he jumped straight up to fly again. Even though he jumped more than forty feet up into the air, he inevitably landed right back on the ground.

Just then, all of Salmot's master-slinking skills again resurfaced within Baltor's mind. He used those techniques to maneuver within the dark shadows cast between the dunes, rendering him invisible from the guards watching on top of the city walls, until he finally neared the western wall.

Standing ten feet away, he made a springing jump for it and grabbed hold of the wall at forty feet high.

Seconds later, Baltor had already climbed to the top.

As a safeguard, he first scanned the lengths of the guards' walkway to see if the coast was clear—it was, but only for a very short time. He ran across the one-hundred-foot span in the blink of an eye before jumping off the other side and into the heart of the city.

Once standing upon the streets, a weird sensation occurred as if his spiritual eyes had just got yanked out of his body—thankfully, this was a painless experience. His "gaze" flew of its volition passed two city blocks, turned left, passed eight blocks, and then turned to the left—deep inside the scummy sections of Pavelus.

The "gaze" stopped in its movement, focusing upon a very-familiar-yet-much-older-looking white warhorse that bore the crest of the Sultan, just like the one he saw in his dream.

The warhorse snorted a bit as it returned the gaze back, and the image instantly dissipated.

He knew exactly where to go...and only a few seconds later, he saw the same horse with his own physical eyes, though he was quite a bit of shock that his vision had been real!

He next looked around at the two-dozen other horses also parked outside, and then to the bar that bore the sign, _The Rusty Pipe._ Even from outside, this bar sounded packed full of drunkards. Without fear, Baltor entered.

Indeed, the bar reeked of stale beer and sweaty people, and to confirm, ruffians, sailors, and fat old women occupied this "hole in the wall" environment. Of course, shady-looking people sat in the dark corners.

As he scanned the crowd, he thought, _Now_ _w_ _h_ _y_ _w_ _o_ _u_ _l_ _d_ _s_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _o_ _n_ _e_ _w_ _h_ _o_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _k_ _s_ _f_ _or_ _th_ _e_ _Sultan_ _w_ _a_ _n_ _t_ _t_ _o_ _c_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _t_ _o_ _a_ _p_ _ut_ _r_ _i_ _d_ _w_ _o_ _r_ _m_ _h_ _o_ _l_ _e_ _such as_ _th_ _i_ _s_ _?_

He walked to the far end of the bar, only then observing a concrete staircase leading down into a basement—he could hear the loud cheers and jeers coming from below, for some unknown reason.

From the depths of this smoky environment, two drunken patrons clambered up the concrete steps; the man on the left was excitedly telling the man on the right that he had just won five hundred parsecs. Thankfully, both men ignored Baltor.

Upon nearing the bottom step, the answer to Baltor's earlier question came as he discovered what was going on within this concrete basement.

Although filled with more than a dozen large circular tables spread throughout, only three tables had a single burning candle sitting on it, with nearly sixty chairs surrounding all those tables. Drunk and loud patrons sat in more-than-half of those chairs—with three different groups of soldiers also sitting or standing around, two small and one large. A liquor bar without any stools sat in the far-right corner; behind the counter, a middle-aged man dispensed drinks to the ugly waitresses who in turn distributed drinks to the inebriated customers. In the middle of the room, a dozen or so patrons stood around a well-lit circular pit that was thirty feet in diameter, calling out bets and swapping money. It was only because of all the light emanating from inside the pit that this basement had any light.

As he walked over to the edge of the pit, he leaned over on the safety steel railing in between two sailors before looking down. Located at each of the four quadrants halfway between the top and the bottom was a burning torch. At the bottom, about thirty feet below, two vicious dogs tore into each other with fangs and claws. Currently, this pit had two doggy doors on opposite sides that were both open, as well a human-sized, gated, shut door.

Baltor thought, _The person or people who murdered my parents_ _e_ _it_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _c_ _o_ _m_ _e_ _t_ _o_ _w_ _a_ _t_ _c_ _h_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _n_ _g_ _s_ _f_ _i_ _g_ _h_ _t and kill_ _,_ _or they do it themselves,_ _fo_ _r_ _v_ _i_ _o_ _l_ _e_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _i_ _s_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _i_ _r_ _n_ _a_ _t_ _u_ _r_ _e_ _._

From the other side of the pit, a bright beam of light flashed into his eyes, but only for a split-second. He looked that direction right away, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, except for the large group of soldiers. Two of them now leaned on the railing on the far side of the pit to watch the fight close up, while the rest sat directly behind them at two tables, drinking and laughing away. Other than their armor and sheathed weapons, nothing glinted.

Even after spending an entire minute watching them, and counting fifteen soldiers in total, he never once saw anything out of the ordinary glinting; he also noticed that there were two other groups of troops in this room. One of these soldiers had to be the owner of the white horse parked outside, though Baltor did not know which person.

Once that minute had passed, he directed his attention to the next largest group of soldiers—three of them—sitting near the far left corner of the room. In the corner was a concrete, spiral stairwell that led down.

Ten seconds passed before a flash of light caught Baltor's eye from the direction of the first group, and so he threw his gaze that direction instantly.

His binocular-vision zoomed in on the source of the light, observing two prismatic lights that reflected off two diamonds set in a golden hawk-headed pommel. With growing excitement and anger, Baltor realized this weapon to be his grandfather's sword!

Just then, his vampire hearing multiplied, and he listened as one of the two soldiers leaning over the pit looked back over at the man donning his grandfather's sword, and said with excitement, "Major Briggs, you've got to check this out! I told you that the pit-bull was going to take out the rottweiler, and I was right. I mean, please, sir, come and take a look-see!"

This Major Briggs—a rather powerful-looking officer with angular eyebrows, a thick, graying goatee, and ripped muscles—finished drinking a swig from his mug of ale, laughed, and then said, "I'll be right there, Lieutenant Harshem. I'm kind of in the middle of an important discussion right now with Captain Lowell."

Baltor had just begun to approach when the major had started to speak, but upon drawing several feet from them all, the lieutenant turned to look at him with great suspicion.

Without a word, Baltor walked past him, and was about to pass the remaining soldiers to reach Briggs, but found swords pointing at him from all directions.

"Identify yourself and state your business," Harshem was the first to say though he did not have his weapon drawn.

"My name is Baltor. I am a messenger from the Sultan, and I bear a message solely for Major Briggs! I shouldn't be saying this to you, but I think that he plans on promoting him to colonel."

Harshem asked, "How come I haven't seen you before?"

"I have just started, good sir. May I please speak with him so that I can be on my way, sir?"

"Lower your swords, men," Harshem ordered. He looked over at his major and stated, "Major, there is a man here who says that he bears a message for you, directly from the Sultan."

Briggs stood up from his seat, approached closer until about fifteen feet away from Baltor, halted in place, and then asked, "What is this message from the Sultan?"

Without hesitation, Baltor answered, "You have a possession that belongs to me—you must give it back, or else."

Looking and sounding confused, Briggs asked, "The Sultan said this?"

"No...I did!"

Briggs laughed a few times while putting his hands on his hips. He then asked, "Well then...what possession do I have that is supposedly yours, and what are you going to do about it if I don't give it back to you?"

Despite the fact that Baltor once again had swords pointed in his face, he still calmly said, "Give me back my grandfather's sword, or else I will be forced to kill you."

Briggs' right hand cupped protectively over the sword's pommel before he ordered, "Men—"

With a wag of his index finger from side to side, Baltor interrupted, "I wouldn't issue that command if I were you!"

Although Briggs had just about enough, he still asked with an incredulous tone of voice, "Why not?"

Baltor answered calmly, "According to the law of the Sultan, stealing and murder are not crimes to be tolerated within this city. All here know this legislation to be true—yet it was you, Major Briggs, who stole my family's sword a little less than a decade ago before murdering my parents!"

He chuckled one time before adding, "If I were you now, however, I'd fight me in the dog pit below. After all, who am I but a skinny punk pitted up against an ultimate warrior like you?" As he had asked this question, his voice sounded snotty.

Seething with uncontrolled rage, Briggs roughly shoved his way through his men—the soldiers hurriedly moved their swords out of the major's way.

Upon arrival, the major used both of his hands to grab and yank the collar of Baltor's shirt, which caused Baltor's body and face to be less than an inch from his own. The major hissed, "Let's go!"

He released his grip on the shirt, which in turn caused Baltor to fall to his knees. He stared at the young man who continued to look at the ground and kneel, while mentally daring him to stand up.

Perhaps ten seconds passed until Briggs felt confident enough to look around at all of his men standing around. He then laughed a few times before adding, "Because this snotty punk and I are about to fight to the death in the pit below, I'd like to place my entire life savings on the duel—eighty-five thousand parsecs for me to win! Anyone want to match my bet?"

Briggs began to look around the room, but not a single person said a word, especially for the fact that Baltor continued to remain on his knees and watch the ground.

"Come on—is there not one single person amongst you who wants to take on my bet against... What was your name, punk?"

It was after he had asked that question that he stared back down at the kid.

Baltor apparently loved to push buttons, for he looked up until he and the major looked at each other eye-to-eye, smiled, and answered, "My name's not relevant. What is important is that I have an excellent idea to make this fight even more interesting."

After a laugh, Briggs asked, "What is your idea?"

"Let's add some fresh dogs to the pit, during our battle to the death," Baltor suggested nonchalantly.

For a split-second, Briggs looked quite a bit nervous at that suggestion, but he could also see the eyes of his men, and everyone else, looking at him. He nodded while answering in the form of a question, "Why not?"

Baltor had just risen back onto his feet, when his ears heard an old woman's voice declare, "I'll match your bet, Major Briggs. The house knows I'm good for it!"

Everyone turned to look at the woman—most looked shocked. Everyone here, except for Baltor, knew the crone's name, Sessy, and that she was indeed good for it since she owned _The Rusty Pit_. The shock came because she had never placed a bet before now.

Briggs had also looked at the woman, yet his facial expression betrayed anger, as he had been a loyal patron here for years and had thought of Sessy as his friend; that is, until now. Instead of displaying any further emotions that would make him look weak, he sucked in a deep breath, put on a poker face, glanced over at his captain, nodded his head, and said evenly, "You heard Sessy."

Lowell replied, "Yes, sir."

Briggs proceeded to walk to the stairwell in the corner of the room. Baltor followed.

Two soldiers marched behind, and Harshem and Lowell followed in the rear of this little formation—all made their way down the stairwell just in case Baltor should try to do something underhanded to their beloved commander.

Once in the basement's basement, Baltor noticed that this void-of-furniture, square-shaped, brick-walled room surrounded the concrete walls of the pit. From where he stood, he could see two shut doors leading into the pit—one human and one doggy. On the left side of the room was an opened wood door leading into another room—a room filled with steel dog cages of all sizes, and with yapping dogs that occupied most of the cages.

Seconds later, a dirty old man—with a whip in his hand—walked out of that room before closing the door.

Briggs ordered the old man, "Gerry. I'm going to need you to remove the two dogs in the pit and prepare three fresh dogs to enter after we commence with our battle in the pit...three minutes after. Got it?"

Delivering a toothless smile, the old man nodded his head, opened the door he had just closed, and entered that room. He did not shut the door this time.

Moments later, the old man came back with his whip, followed by two assistants carrying beating sticks.

They entered the pit through the human-sized door, at which point they beat the dogs senseless before clearing the unconscious bodies out of the pit—all of the gamblers who had bet money on these dogs groaned.

Once cleared, Briggs entered the pit, walked to the far side, and turned around. With a wicked smile, he drew out the hawk-headed sword from a specially-designed sheath looped onto his belt—due to the swift movement, the sword sang for a moment.

Harshem turned to one of the two guards at this point, and ordered, "Give this man your sword, Private Simons."

Simons said, "Yes, sir," before reluctantly extending the handle of his sword out—Baltor took it without a word of thanks before entering the dog pit.

Lowell ordered the other guard, "Shut and lock the door, and only open it when the winner has declared his victory over the dead loser, Corporal."

The corporal replied, "Yes, sir," before shutting and locking the door.

Lowell next ordered his three underlings including Harshem, "I want you all to stand guard here—understood?"

"Yes, captain," all three men said before snapping to attention. Lowell turned and proceeded back toward the staircase.

At that moment, a slight look of hope crossed Harshem's face just before he asked, "Sir? Can I please watch the fight upstairs with you?"

Lowell turned around, nodded, and said, "Sure, but you two other men must stay here."

"Yes, sir."

Lowell and Harshem headed upstairs to watch the fight—all the while Baltor continued to gaze up at the packed crowd leaning over the side of the edge, looking back down at them. This was a show, and the bets were on, though all but one betted on Briggs to win!

With a cocky smile, Briggs looked at his opponent before asking, "So should I say ready-set-go, or should we just battle?"

Without waiting for a response, Briggs angled an attack with his sword—Baltor swiftly deflected the incoming sword away with his own before taking six steps back.

Baltor shrugged his shoulders while answering nonchalantly, "Just battle."

"Have it your way," Briggs growled as he jabbed in with his sword—this time, Baltor somersaulted away twice and resumed a defensive position.

Briggs came in again, delivering dozens of thrusting or slashing attacks back to back. Although he was never able to get past his opponent's defenses, neither had his opponent made a single attack. Finally, he stood back, and while breathing a bit heavily, he commented, "You're pretty quick, aren't you?"

At this point, several of the gamblers began shifting their bets from Briggs to Baltor, as they saw that Baltor had not even broken a sweat these last couple of minutes of combat and that he was extraordinarily handy with the sword.

Baltor did not respond to the major's question but listened as the dog gates slowly began to rise on both sides. After throwing a quick smile, he made his first offensive strike of the duel, a roundhouse type of swing with his sword.

Briggs parried with his sword before launching a counterstrike—only by an inch did Baltor manage to roll safely out of the blade's way.

As for the crowd, they were fast becoming frenzied and loud. Some booed while others cheered—the remainder of the crowd screamed out their bets to the man taking all the bets, as they wanted to ensure that their bets were in before the end of this already-climatic duel.

A nanosecond after the gates had opened, three dogs rushed into the pit with fangs bared, and the roar of the crowd from up above became deafening.

Baltor leaped to make a sword attack, but found out "the hard way" that a dog had firmly grabbed with its teeth a hold of his right pants leg—Baltor's sword flew out of his hands and slid across the floor. As for his knee, that also crashed hard onto the ground, causing pain for a single moment.

Taking advantage, Briggs attempted to end the battle quickly by slicing off his opponent's head but discovered with frustration and anger that another dog's set of teeth had just ensnared the sleeve of his shirt so that he could not deliver his attack.

Only a split-second later, the third dog slammed hard into Briggs's side, causing his sword to fly out of his hand and slide ten feet away. As for the man himself, he fell smack on top of Baltor!

Briggs wasted no time as he attempted to reach for the dagger in his boot, but couldn't—his opponent had already locked Briggs' wrist into place, thus preventing him from reaching his dagger at all.

On the other hand, Briggs' other hand was free, and so he proceeded to punch his fist into Baltor's face repetitiously.

As the two men continued to fight and wrestle, mainly with Briggs on top, one of the dogs bit hard into Briggs' stomach, and the man yelped out his first cry of pain! The dogs continuously climbed on top and all around while snarling and biting away into both combatants. The crowds above were going freaking ballistic!

Although the dogs bit and tore into both men, Briggs had no chance at all against his opponent. Nor did he understand why his opponent wanted dogs in there in the first place, in which Briggs was the one meant to be on top in the end.

For Baltor used both the dogs and Briggs as shields to prevent the onlookers from seeing what he needed to do. Immediately after grabbing the back of Briggs's neck, he sunk his vampire fangs deep into this man's jugular vein!

Though Briggs had already been screaming from all the painful dog bites, he screamed even louder from Baltor's bite. At that moment, a cyclonic gust of wind blew throughout the basement, and the basement's basement, that even the torches in the pit went completely out, enshrouding the entire bar in complete darkness!

Meanwhile, Baltor's body had transformed into the vompareus, and he began to feast upon Briggs's knowledge, blood, and life.

In a flash, Baltor saw a much-younger soldier—unquestionably Briggs—enter his father's shop sometime during the day, but as no one was currently in the shop, he began to stroll around the store while glancing around.

As Briggs walked by the trophy case, he glanced inside, and a look of envy crossed his face as he gazed at the sword adoringly.

A quarter of a minute passed until Baltor's father entered the shop from the attached house, in which he greeted in a cheerful tone of voice, "Good afternoon, sir. I was just on my lunch break. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, my warhorse parked outside needs his horseshoes replaced, and I heard from my troops that you were the perfect man for the job."

"Of course I am, sir! If you can just bring your horse in here, I will get to work right away—only twenty parsecs, sir."

"Deal. Also, is the sword in that trophy case for sale?"

"Sorry, good sir, but it isn't."

"Why not?"

"Because it is the only one of its kind," Baltor's father politely explained. "And my dad made it, so for these two important reasons, it is very sentimental to my family and me. So, in answer to your question, no, this sword is not for sale."

"Can you make me a sword just as good, if not better?" Briggs asked with a lot of hope in his voice.

"It'll be very tough to beat my father's work, good sir, but I can give you my best!"

"How long will it take for you to deliver your best?"

"At least six months...more likely a year."

"One last question—how much?"

"That really depends upon the materials used and the time spent—after all, appraisers have determined my father's sword to be worth 68,800 parsecs."

Briggs first whistled in admiration before saying, "Well, that's too bad. I'm only on a sergeant's pay, and not a general's, yet. Thanks for the info, but I'll just bring in my horse."

"No problem, sir."

As Briggs went to retrieve his horse, Baltor even heard this man think, _There are quite a few valuable treasures in that case, besides that sword! I think I'm going to take a little trip here after work. Why wait six months when I can get the whole package tonight—for free? Even better, I can come back tomorrow morning to thank this blacksmith for his excellent work on my horse, take down his report about the stolen valuables as I am the man in charge of this police district, but, never turn in that report to my lieutenant...yeah! And, if anybody asks me how I got all this stuff, especially that sword, I can say my wealthy grandfather from Lasparus died last month, and this is all my inheritance. Genius...._

The vision ended, just as Baltor had swallowed the last drop and Briggs died.

Baltor's body changed back into human form in the next second, so he took Briggs' sheath, strapped it on his belt, and then psychically commanded the dogs to feast—they obediently feasted upon the remains of the dead major.

He walked over and picked up his grandfather's sword, holding it in his hands for the very first time in his life. He then called out, "The battle is over! Please turn on the lights and open the door...thank you."

Perhaps a half-minute passed before several of the workers relit the lights in the basement, after which the guards opened the door to the dog pit.

By this time, Baltor had his sword sheathed, and he exited the pit—none of the guards tried to stop him.

While leaving the bar, many of the patrons clapped him on the back while congratulating him, especially Sessy who had just made a fortune. She promised him free drinks for a year.

Five minutes later, Baltor approached the gates to the Guild, in which he saw two guards.

Upon seeing this stranger, the guard on the left informed, "Let me see your papers, please."

Baltor only then realized he no longer had his ID. Despite this setback, he sounded like a snob as he greeted, "My name is Lord Poleax. Unfortunately, I've lost my ID, but I do know Lady Lydia and Instructor Humonus very well, as do you. Please let me in."

Sounding equally snobby, the other guard replied, "Well, without papers, we cannot permit you to pass, no matter who you claim to know or be. This is, after all, Ambassador Rolsch's palace, and this place is restricted access except for those who have their authorization papers."

Baltor nodded his head in understanding, turned to the left, and walked down the main street. Halfway to the corner, he climbed over the wall. Quickly, he hid in the bushes just before a pair of guards walked on by while chatting with each other.

Once they were gone, he knew the location of Humonus' apartment, and that is where he proceeded in stealth mode.

Not even a minute later, the man himself opened the door just before his mouth dropped open in amazement. Perhaps five seconds passed before he said with excitement and happiness, "Come on in, Baltor! Come on in!"

"I'm sorry about waking you up at this hour, my friend."

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, Humonus said, "Not a problem—I don't have to be at work until nine in the morning. I'm so glad to see you're alive!"

"Thank you."

"Please take a seat, Baltor. Would you like some food?"

"No thank you, Humonus. I just dined on a delicious and fulfilling meal...I'm stuffed!"

"Well how about a glass of ale, or some water?"

"No thanks, Humonus. Please relax and let me relay my tale."

"Okay, let's hear it!"

For the next hour, Baltor relayed his quest starting from day one. He was truthful with Humonus when he revealed all of Salmot's treacherous plots, as well with everything that happened until he came across the rod. That part he lied about, saying that the pit only contained the bottom half to the map. He then added that besides the map, he had acquired "something else," though he did not know what was in it.

When Humonus looked confused, Baltor untied and opened the furry sack that Prince Cheo had given him, sprinkling its sparkling contents onto his bed—dozens of small-to-mid-sized emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds spread all about on the bed!

"Whoa," Humonus and Baltor both said in utter amazement.

Humonus picked up a diamond from the stack that was the size of an acorn. He first closed one eye, and with the other eye, he gazed at the clarity of the diamond within the lamplight. His mouth dropped open in shock because there wasn't a single crack in it. He asked with excitement, "Do you, can you, imagine how valuable these treasures are? The quality of this diamond alone is exquisite! You are a rich man, my friend, a very rich man!"

Baltor chuckled one time before replying, "I am a wealthy man, but not because of wealth. It is because of my friends, and you are one of my richest and wisest of them all—so half of all this is yours!"

Humonus became puffy eyed, as he sobbed happily, "Thank you, my friend!"

Baltor released a little sigh, and then he said, "No problem, but back to business. I have some significant findings to report to the High Council, as soon as possible, and I'm sure that they will love to hear it as well to acquire the bottom half of the map. Can we have this arranged?"

Humonus took control over his emotions before answering, "Of course, Baltor. It might take some time, so you'll have to be patient."

"Of course. I have one more question, really a favor to ask."

"You name it."

"Is my bed and all of my other stuff still there in the barracks?"

"Yes, it is, but why in God's name would you want to live there when you have all this treasure? You could easily buy your own house with this diamond alone!"

"Let's just say I miss it. By the way, I'm sorry if I don't sound excited anymore, but I'm exhausted..."

"No problem. Well, since you lost your ID, I will have to take you to the barracks. Are you ready to go now?"

With a yawn, Baltor asked, "Not just yet. I do have an important question to ask you...has the Guild promoted you to Master yet or at the very least Senior Drill Instructor?"

After shrugging his shoulders, Humonus answered, "Well, there have been a few rumors these last couple of months to making me an SDI."

Baltor countered, "In my opinion, as I said before I left on my adventure, they should've promoted you long ago."

Humonus changed the subject by asking, "Say, do you want me to help you find a new apartment or house tomorrow?"

"Maybe tomorrow night...but for now, I must be off to bed."

"Well," Humonus said with a wave of the hand toward the door, "let me get you to your bunk before I bid my final goodnight to you, my friend."

"Thank you, my friend," Baltor replied appreciatively.

## CHAPTER XVII

Baltor awoke at sunset in his bed in the barracks—because of the way his hands clasped protectively over the hilt of his grandfather's sword resting directly upon his body, he resembled a knight who had passed away.

After sitting up, he looked around and noticed that he was alone. He next got out of bed, sheathed his sword, unlocked his wall locker, grabbed some clean clothes, boots, and a comb, and headed for the bathhouse. Once there, he took a quick bath, put on the new outfit, tossed his old clothes into the garbage can, and combed his hair. Following, he headed back for the barracks.

Upon arrival, he sat down in his bed and decided to spend some time to examine the sword thoroughly. For the next half-hour or so, he studied the magnificent beauties of his grandfather's sword...his family inheritance.

Shortly before finishing his examinations, his super-hearing detected the nearly soundless footsteps, and so he stood onto his feet with sword in hand. When he saw Humonus walk around the corner, he placed the sword back into its sheath.

Humonus had a warm smile plastered upon his face, as he greeted, "I hope your day was a restful one, Baltor!"

"Indeed it was, my friend!"

"That's good news," Humonus replied. His smile had disappeared before he said, "But I do have some bad news, as well. I talked to one of the High Council members today, and he stated that it might be a month, or maybe even longer before they shall be able to convene and hear about your mission."

"Why's that?"

"Yesterday, the Sultan has decreed twenty percent higher taxes upon all of his residents, and for two reasons. Not only does he want to re-conquer Mauritia no matter the cost, especially since it costs us and not him, yet he also has called us to assist with the finances for building the coliseum. He wants to draw more foreigners to the city with gladiator games, which he promised he would pay back in full, once the profits start pouring in! Yeah, right."

"Hmmmmmm," Baltor replied.

Humonus added, "Regardless of what we think about it, the Sultan has his men going door to door, in order to retrieve his tax money or properties. Most in the Guild are still stashing away their most-prized possessions, just in case they decide to resort to probing around the upper-class neighborhoods again."

Baltor sighed before replying, "I see."

"I'm sorry, but there's no way to swing around this—you'll just have to be patient."

"I have learned much about patience from my quest, Humonus."

Humonus congratulated, "That's great to know. Oh, by the way, I've got some incredible news to deliver!"

Baltor asked, "What's that?"

"Well, this afternoon, I had the jewels appraised. Do you know how much they're worth?"

"How much?"

"Eighty-one thousand parsecs!"

With a whole lot of shock, Baltor asked, "Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah... As soon as I heard that astronomical number from a trustworthy source, I immediately sold the jewels to the guy; I figured you would be happy with that amount. After I had divided it up evenly between you and me, I decided to check out some houses for you within the thirty thousand bracket—I found one with an incredible view of the city not too far away from here! But, before you and I go to check out this house, how about going out for a couple of rounds of ale first? I'm thirsty!"

"Of course I'd love to accompany you, Humonus, but I'm not much of a drinker anymore."

"Fair enough," Humonus said. He laughed a few times before adding, "Then I'll do the drinking!"

Mere seconds after they had entered the training area, Humonus pointed at Baltor's sword before saying, "Wow...that's a beauty! Don't think I didn't notice it before, but I just had too many other things going on in my mind. So, where on earth did you find that?"

After glancing down to his sword for a few seconds, Baltor answered, "This—this was created by my grandfather, long ago. But we can talk about that at the bar, right?"

Humonus laughed and said, "Sure."

The duo made their way out of the Guild and toward the local bar that they used to drink at on an occasional basis, called, _The Hurried Wind_.

After having entered the packed tavern, they took the only two empty stools that sat next to the bar.

A middle-aged man with thick black hair and a clean apron approached from behind the bar, in which Baltor knew this bartender. His name was Kerrick.

Kerrick greeted enthusiastically, "Hey there, Humonus and Baltor! Long time no sees either of you guys, especially you, Baltor—how's it going?"

"Good," both men replied at the same time.

"So what can I getcha'?"

Humonus answered, "I'll have a mug of Bolinksy ale."

Baltor added, "Make that two, Kerrick."

"One minute, guys."

Once Kerrick had gone to retrieve the drinks, Humonus asked, "So tell me more about that sword—I'm dying to know all about it!"

"Please wait until after Kerrick has given us our drinks."

"No problem."

Kerrick returned only a half-minute later, set two overflowing mugs of ale onto the bar, collected the two parsecs from Humonus, and then went to serve the next customer.

Baltor proceeded to recall all the stories and legends of the sword that his father had passed on to him; meanwhile, Humonus held on to the sword and gazed at each little part adoringly.

Once he had completed with the saga, Humonus returned the sword back—Baltor sheathed it on his belt.

Humonus took a deep draught and sighed, "Whew. So, it's all really because of this sword is how you ended up orphaned and destitute...am I right?"

"Yes, sir."

Humonus sucked the last drop from his mug, and then said, "Wow!" Upon noticing that his friend had not touched his drink, he asked, "You're not going to drink that?"

Baltor shook his head negatively.

"Well, you don't mind if I have that, do you?"

"Not at all, my friend, not at all."

Humonus took the mug and began to consume it. He had finished his third round when his eyes first spotted a squad of the Sultan's guards entering the front door—there were at least nine of them. Both Baltor and Humonus turned their eyes toward the guards, but not their heads.

Their leader, a sergeant, held out a rolled-up scroll in his hand, and declared, "The Sultan has decreed that all inhabitants are to pay twenty percent of whatever they own to him—we have been sent to collect! All of you are to pay at this time, or we will immediately execute you. Are there any questions?"

One skinny man stood up and said in a whiny voice, "I have one—I was at home not even an hour ago when the Sultan's guards came to my door stating the same thing, and I paid! My question is: Do I have to pay again?"

The sergeant laughed, "Yes, you do. You should have stayed at home where you belong. If you're coming to bars, then that means you must have plenty more to give for charity."

The man exclaimed, "That's bunk...I already paid once, and I'll be damned if I pay again!"

A couple of other grumbles began to fill the tavern. However, before this man's words of defiance could carry throughout the crowd, the sergeant rushed over to the man, and without hesitating, he chopped off the man's head—many gasped in horror and fear at being the next!

The sergeant looked around the room while asking, "Does anyone else have any questions or problems?"

No one said a word.

The guards began to extract from the patrons whatever goodies they wanted—meanwhile, Baltor and Humonus sat on their stools, but said nothing.

It appeared evident that Baltor's sword had no less of an impact on this sergeant, for he soon approached and asked, "Well, what's this?"

Baltor looked at the sergeant before casually answering, "It's my ancestral sword, and my name is Lord Poleax."

"Hmmm." the sergeant said. He gazed adoringly at the diamonds that brilliantly reflected the lights in the room.

"Lord or not, I think I'm just going to take—" he said as he reached for the sword, but became interrupted in two different ways.

"I don't think so," Baltor interrupted aloud. At the same time, his hand had physically interrupted the sergeant by grabbing the man's wrist, twisting, and locking him into an inescapable position by the time the word "so" had crossed his lips.

The sergeant yelled out in pain, "Guards! Kill him!"

From Baltor's peripherals, he noticed that Humonus had his hand on the hilt of his dagger, but had not pulled it out just yet.

Meanwhile, the other guards slowly drew nearer.

Baltor felt the urge to sink his teeth into this man's neck, but resisted—after all, he did not want Humonus to know the truth about his "vampiric nature." Therefore, he twisted more upon the sergeant's wrist, causing his face to mesh even further into the disgusting floor. He next called out, "Stop! If any of you come any closer, I will literally rip your man's arm right out of his shoulder!"

The sergeant had already begun screaming out in agony, "Stop! Stop! Please, I beg of you, quit hurting me!"

The guards stopped, though their swords remained drawn.

"Drop your swords, or this man dies," Baltor commanded.

The guards reluctantly did as ordered.

"Now, clear away so that my friend and I can safely depart. Only once we are outside and clear, will I then let go of your sergeant. Oh, don't even think of following us either, or you will regret it, I promise you that!"

The guards shuffled their way so that there was plenty of room for them to depart.

Baltor twisted the sergeant's wrist the other way, which caused the man to jerk back onto his feet though still off balanced, and still firmly locked by Baltor's grip. Although Humonus said not a word, his eyes showed that he was quite impressed regarding his former student's outstanding performance.

The trio made their way outside while the rest of the guards stayed put inside.

Once outside, Baltor slammed his elbow into the back of the sergeant's neck, knocking him out cold. He then growled, "Forget the house for now...let's get back to the Guild before they come out!"

Humonus and Baltor wasted no time in getting back to the Guild, via the back routes.

Once safely in Humonus' apartment, he said, "You know, Baltor, there will be a high price on our heads by morning. And you know that there were plenty of guards who will be able to identify us—they will comb this city seeking us out!"

Smacking a fist into his open palm, Baltor replied defiantly, "Let them come!"

Humonus extended both hands out in front of him, and while waving them wildly around, he said, "No... The Guild must remain TOP SECRET!"

Instead of pushing the subject, Baltor said, "Fine—still, I would suggest that you find any High Council member, and tell whomever, that we need to conduct a meeting first thing tomorrow night. As I said before, the quest I went on taught me a lot of useful information about our past, present, and especially about our tomorrows!"

Though Humonus looked both nervous and unconvinced, he said, "I shall try to do what I can. As for tonight, I suggest we both sleep in the underground caverns, just in case."

"I agree with your suggestion," Baltor replied.

For the rest of that night, they slept hundreds of feet below ground on sleeping bags.

The next evening, Baltor awoke to see that he was alone in the cavern; he could still see clearly in the dark since he had feasted only two nights ago.

He made his way back up and toward the surface. Even as he passed by the training area, he could not locate Humonus anywhere. After entering the main foyer, Baltor's eyes rested upon Lydia as she stared into oblivion while sitting alone on one of the plush couches.

Her eyes looked at him just before she said pleasantly, "Good evening to you, Baltor."

Baltor bowed low for a second before replying, "Good evening to you, my Mistress." Without waiting for any more cordiality, he asked, "Has the High Council determined whether they will see me or not?"

Lydia answered, "Yes, we will. In forty-five minutes from now, we will convene to hear your story in the council chambers. However, the majority has already voted that you will only be given five minutes of our most-precious time."

After a nod, Baltor replied, "Fair enough. While we're waiting, I need to tell you something really, really important, but please, I need you to listen until I'm done speaking. Okay?"

Though looking and sounding confused, Lydia answered, "Uh—sure."

It took him a little more than half an hour to chronologically brief Lydia about Salmot's diabolical ways, including those two separate, unsuccessful opportunities when the man and his just-as-diabolical friends had preemptively tried to murder Baltor. During the first occasion, he allowed Salmot to live another day, out of respect for Lydia—but the second time; Baltor did kill Salmot, since this man proved hell-bent on killing him.

Before Lydia could say a word, he silenced her by gently placing his left index finger on her upper lip, and saying, " _Shh_...please listen, my Mistress."

Seeing her nod, he removed his finger off her lip. However, he kept it pointing up in the air and even began lightly shaking it around, as he stated, "Other than lust, greed, and power, Master Salmot never gave a damn about anything or anybody, especially about you or our Guild—the man's truly a traitorous worm. Oh wait, he did care about his nephew Thesmul, another worm we all know is guilty of raping and murdering Vakshia. Finally, I swear on everything that I had no choice but to kill your boyfriend; and for every single word I've spoken this last half-hour, it will all be proven if you'll give me but a week to produce the evidence."

All the while, Lydia had shown a myriad of negative emotions on her face. Mostly it had been disbelief and shock, but now horror and grief ruled. Her body began to tremble, and then she tried to run away and escape. Before she could get away, Baltor clutched on to her tightly.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, my Mistress! I swear to God that I didn't want to kill him, but seriously, I had no other choice."

After a couple of minutes of struggling had passed, her body finally began to relax—even though there were still the flowing tears and sobs.

A minute or two later, he released her, looked at her straight in the eyes, and gently confirmed for the fourth time, "I had no other choice. Besides, why should you even care about that worm when he only used you, and never loved you?"

Lydia's teary eyes continued to meet his, and after a few more moments, she shook her head in disbelief, flatly stating, "I don't believe you. You never saw Salmot the way I did, especially during our intimate moments—he was like a little boy! I don't even know why I just told you that!"

"Most likely you told me because you are traumatized, my Mistress! You must believe me—I swear that all I've said is true," Baltor swore.

A man's voice unexpectedly interrupted their slightly-heated conversation by calling out, "Are you ready to join us, Mistress Lydia? The remainder of the High Council is quite anxious to see Baltor after his quest."

Lydia turned her head to face the man before answering, "Yes, we'll be right there, Master Jensa." She looked back at Baltor, and said, "There are always two sides to every story. You have your viewpoint, as would Master Salmot if he was alive to tell his story. As for the proof you speak of, we'll talk about that later. But for now, follow me."

Without another word, Lydia escorted Baltor into the council room before taking her place on her throne.

Although a wood seat sat in the middle, Baltor chose to remain standing up as he said, "Masters and Mistresses of the High Council, I have been given five minutes to explain a mission that took seven months to perform... A three-fold mission, really, that all began because of the top half of an ancient map found in our underground labyrinth due to a major earthquake.

"Number one, locate the tower. Number two, retrieve the Rod of Ro'shain; and number three, obtain the bottom half of the map.

"As for number one, the tower itself does exist, though it is in such a severe stage of decay that I doubt it'll last too much longer, maybe several years, tops. As for number two, yes, I did explore everything possible in and around this tower, but no, the Rod of Ro'shain could not be found anywhere; that is if it even existed in the first place."

"Mistress Tricia," Baltor said while pulling the map out, walking over to her, and extending it for her to take. Once she took it, he said, "As for number three, here is the bottom half of the map, which obviously proves my claims that I did indeed make it to the tower. Regarding the map I just handed you, you will soon find that it is as authentic as the top half of the map, which should still be in your possession."

"Thank you, Baltor, it is," she said happily.

He continued, "Even though one-third of my mission was a failure by not retrieving the rod itself, the other two-thirds of my mission was a complete success, which makes me feel like my mission was a success, ultimately.

"Especially if you were to consider all the trials and tribulations I overcame through my adventure, like barely surviving through deserts, blizzards, and jungles, even escaping from a vicious cannibal tribe! Of course, my story would take far more than five minutes to explain. More like five hours, or maybe even five days!"

After a short pause, he asked, "So...do you all—Masters and Mistresses of the High Council—find my quest to be a success, as well?"

Tricia glanced to her left and her right, in which she saw a vast majority of heads nodding with pleased smiles because of receiving the bottom half of the world-map. She confirmed, "We of the High Council do find your quest to be a complete success. As a result, we are promoting you to your first official rank: 'Thief.' Congratulations! As for the monetary reward that you will receive from the Guild for all your efforts, we will award you that amount in the next week or so, once we've decided how much this map is worth."

Despite the fact that Baltor had noticed that Lydia had been staring off into oblivion with a sad facial expression, he said with a bow, "Thank you, Mistresses and Masters. Before I go, may I be allowed one more minute of the High Council's most-valuable time?"

After Tricia had looked to her left and right and noticed that more than half of the High Council nodded their heads at the one-minute extension, she said, "Sure, go ahead, Baltor."

Baltor cleared his throat a couple of times before he said, "During my journey, I learned many other important things that pertain to the past, present, and the future—very relevant things that also directly relate to the Guild."

After releasing a deep sigh, he revealed, "The Guild, from what I have ultimately learned, is nothing more than a secret rebellion against the Sultan's tyrannical dictatorship! Moreover, the time has come for us to unite the people of Pavelus and overthrow him for good! I believe that this can easily be done once—"

A feminine voice interrupted, "Overthrow the Sultan? Are you out of your freaking mind?" The High Council began furiously whispering amongst one another; that is, except for Lydia, who still had a mournful look in her eyes.

Baltor did not answer either question, but continued in the speech, "Once the Sultan and his imperial forces have left Pavelus in their attempt to conquer the city of Mauritia—this is when we shall make our strike. I can guarantee you that he certainly will not be expecting an attack to come from within his own beloved Capitol at the very same time!"

Another voice, this time coming from a man, questioned, "I, for one, do not think that we can afford to take that chance—mutinying against the Sultan! What makes you think that you stand a chance in hell?"

Baltor answered confidently, "We will only be successful once we have secretly united the peoples of Pavelus, and we overthrow him together as one; together we will create a brand-new republic!"

"Preposterous," screamed one person.

Another person yelled, "I'm not taking that chance of exposing all that we have worked so long and hard to keep secret!"

"Agreed," said another.

Another cried, "I have a family to think about!"

Although Lydia continued to remain quiet, she only then looked at Baltor.

He promised, "If the answer's no, then I shall go about the task alone and kill the Sultan tonight!"

Tricia glanced to her left and right, noting that all but two members shook their head negatively. Therefore, she said, "If you do undergo this task, you will do it without the assistance from the Guild. If you should become captured alive, you must remember your oath, no matter how they might force it out, Thief!"

"I understand, my masters and mistresses," Baltor said before turning around, exiting the room, and exiting the Guild's property.

## CHAPTER XVIII

On the way to the Sultan's palace, Baltor extracted the blueprints for just about the entire property, by piecing together the pieces from Briggs' memory banks. The only area that this major had never visited or seen on any map was the top floor of the palace.

Still, Baltor reasoned to himself that the Sultan's bedroom had to be on this floor since he had not been able to locate it anywhere else on the property.

It took him perhaps five minutes to near the palace's external walls—thanks to his superhuman speed and sticking to the shadows the entire time. By the time of his arrival, he had already formulated a simple yet effective game plan.

First, he would sneak his way passed the hordes of guards until arriving at the Sultan's bedroom. Second, he would hide under the man's bed, and wait until the Sultan had fallen asleep in his bed. Third, he would assassinate the man, and escape undetected until getting back to the Guild.

Indeed, it turned out to be "easy as pie" for Baltor to tiptoe speedily by the guards, most of whom drank, chatted, and laughed away by a roasting fire. He next passed between two of the hundred or so bodies impaled upon spears around the palace walls—slightly less than a third of those impaled still lived, cried, and bled. Only seconds later, he made it to the eighty-foot palace walls.

Once he ascertained that no guards looked his direction, he rapidly scaled the wall before cautiously poking his head over the top. As soon as the coast was clear on the other side, he climbed over, dropped to the ground, and rolled out his body to spread out the shock. He next jumped in the middle of the nearest thick and tall bush, filled with long-stemmed white and blue flowers growing all over.

While hiding, he took a good look at his surroundings. He observed a lush, colorful and august garden, making the Ambassador's garden pale in comparison—his mind approximated that thirty thousand people could comfortably fit inside the palace walls. At the same time, his eyes could not help but feast upon the five-story golden palace located in the middle of the property, lit by a golden lamp on every corner that made the walls illuminate.

A pair of palace guards—apparent by their purple capes and steel plate mail armor bearing the Seal of the Sultan located in the middle of the chest—guarded every double-door entrance. Further, an entire platoon of palace guards patrolled the winding cobblestone paths, a pair of them passing near Baltor's hidden position every few minutes.

He sat in his position motionless for a half-hour; until finally, the palace guards stationed at all of the double-door entrances acted in unison—each took a step forward, pivoted until facing the other guard, took another step forward, and pivoted until facing the double doors. Still acting as a single unit, each guard opened his door, entered, and closed the door.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Baltor ran across the garden in the blink of an eye, and in the next blink, he leaped onto the first-floor balcony. He then hopped from balcony to balcony, until hanging by his hands on the balcony of the top floor.

Poking just his head up over the ledge, he discovered that the room was dark and void of occupants, so he climbed over the ledge's railing and crouched onto the balcony.

He was about to stand up so he could enter the room, but he crouched down upon hearing Briggs' voice unexpectedly say inside his head, _Only royalty, their guests, and officers with the rank of colonel or above ever visit the third floor. Including, of course, the Sultan and his beloved daughter, Princess Brishava, whose bedrooms are on this floor..._

Briggs had sounded kind and respectful, Baltor realized only then with surprise.

His mind next heard Briggs' voice say, _Even though I've never been in this part of the palace, I've heard that there are a dozen rooms on this floor, including a harem room, and I am sure that the Sultan has four bedchambers. Two colonels continuously guard each bedchamber, except during the changing of the guards at night. The Princess has three bedrooms, also guarded_...

Baltor waited to see if Briggs had more to say.

Sure enough, Briggs did as he said about ten seconds later, _Only Ruling-General Glacius knows exactly which room the Sultan will sleep. It is during the night shift change that the two men walk the halls alone. The Ruling-General leads the Sultan to the pre-assigned room and then selects one of the other three bedchambers to spend the night before the guards have returned so that not even they know who sleeps where..._

Without replying, Baltor waited to see if Briggs had any additional thoughts, but none surfaced; not even an apology for murdering his parents. While waiting, his night-vision eyesight continued scanning the room—a room regally decorated with exquisite valuables and furniture. It included an emperor-sized bed lying in the center of the bedroom, surrounded by hundreds of silky purple veils hanging down and around the overhead bed frame. Matching pieces of silk loosely hung from the corners of the walls. Also fashionably hanging on the walls was a wide assortment of beautiful scenic portraits. Two gold chandeliers, with dozens of unlit candles posted on each, dangled from the ceiling.

Because he was sure that the coast was clear, he tiptoed toward a double set of mahogany doors—doors elegantly designed with gold vines, and set with diamond-studded knobs, no doubt real diamonds. He saw no other ways out of this room, except for the balcony.

He had just turned the doorknob on the left when he heard a little girl's voice whine from the hallway, "But it's not fair, Daddy!"

After letting go of the door handle, he positioned himself behind the door and leaned up against the wall, just in case the door should happen to open.

"I don't care what you think, Brishava. You will not wear that dress at dinner tonight, and embarrass me in front of everyone!"

"Fine then, be a butt-head."

"You will not call me names either, young lady! If any of my subjects ever heard you talking like that way to me, they'd instantly rebel! Remember that I am not just your father—I am first and foremost the Sultan! Now, go change into proper dinner attire. I will be back to check on you in thirty minutes!"

Baltor heard her sniffle a few times before she said, "Yes, Popa."

Seconds later, he heard the sound of a door closing to his right; and seconds after that, he heard the sound of another door closing a little further away to his right.

Despite not knowing which of the two rooms to his right that the Sultan had just entered, he remained determined to find out, cautiously. Therefore, he opened the door a split crack and peeked out into the hallway.

The floors of this rather long hallway consisted of mahogany wood; covering only half of the floor's width was a royal-red-interlaced-with-gold carpet whose length appeared to span the entire hall. Additionally, there were abstract-shaped three-dimensional designs artistically chiseled and polished into the shiny marble walls on both sides. Hanging from the ceiling above each set of double doors was a crystal chandelier filled with burning candles. An artist who loved to portray angels in a variety of acts had masterfully painted the ceiling, and the bright reflections from those crystals caused the angels to appear rather mystical.

Finally, the end of this rather long hallway turned left. As he looked the opposite direction through the crack, he saw that the corridor turned right at the far end, and without any doors in that direction.

What really drew his attention, however, were the two guards stationed at the other two sets of double doors in this hallway. He wondered though why no guards stood outside the bedroom he occupied.

Just then, the door to Baltor's immediate right reopened, and this "Lady" wearing a shimmering white evening gown stepped through that door, and out into the hallway. Because she looked like an angel without wings, he strongly suspected her to be the Sultan's daughter, Brishava. Fortunate for him, she had already begun to walk toward the room at the far right, instead of having turned to walk in his direction.

His binocular-vision scanned in, discovering small prismatic diamonds sewn into the back of her dress; as well, diamond studs were sewn into her jet-black hair that ran down her back in thick weaves while being pinned down at the base by several diamond barrettes. He could not tell just how old or young she was from this angle, yet he did think, _I don't see anything wrong with that dress_...

She turned toward her father's door and approached it—only when she turned did Baltor observe that she wore a silky white veil concealing the lower half of her face, a cover filled with tiny diamonds.

Judging from the upper half of this girl's face, which looked flawless in every little detail, he guessed her to be sixteen or seventeen. Baltor's thoughts, a moment or two later, became, _No doubt in my mind that she has the face and the beauty of a real Princess! Lord have mercy..._

Just as he finished his thought, she raised her hand up to knock on the door but didn't—a few more moments passed, but she still did not knock.

Instead, she turned to her right and walked back up the hallway toward his direction. Baltor closed the door until but a tiny sliver, just enough to allow him to glimpse through.

" _Ah_..." When his eyes scanned in, he now understood the reason for the Sultan's disdain—the top-front of the dress cut into the shape of the letter "v," revealing a fractional portion of her full cleavage. Competing for this area's attention were several varying lengths of platinum necklaces interjected with small yet brilliant diamond studs.

That wasn't the thing that really captivated this thief's attention—it was again her face. Moreover, one thing about it all stood out in particular—her doe-brown eyes that sparkled ever so radiantly.

The more that he stared, the more he found himself not wanting to look at anything else. Suddenly, something else grabbed his senses, but this time, it came from his sense of smell.

As he took a strong whiff, a scent fully penetrated his nostrils and his brain—thanks to his superhuman powers, he had the full opportunity to learn that it was an intoxicating and flowery fragrance, making him want to sniff the air more and more.

She had just turned toward her room, but suddenly, she stopped and faced his direction just before her hands cupped lightly over her mouth. After giving a slight gasp, she breathed out the word, " _You.._."

It was only because of his super-hearing that he deciphered this whispered word from more than one hundred feet away.

One of the two guards who stood by her bedroom door asked after a bow, "Yes, Your Highness is there something that you want from me?"

The Princess quickly looked over to the guard, and stammered, "No, no, there isn't, colonel. I was just, uh, talking to myself again, sorry. I forgot my, uh, my favorite comb in the spare bedroom, yes. I need to go get it, right away."

As soon as the Princess said the two words "spare bedroom," the colonel unconsciously looked in that direction but saw nothing out of the ordinary—for Baltor had just closed the door a split- second before.

"No problem, my Princess. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, thank you—I can handle it on my own, thanks," she answered before proceeding toward the spare bedroom.

Meanwhile, Baltor continued to wait in the room, and his curiosity began to swell as to why she had uttered the word "you." Most especially, he wondered why she had not alerted the guards to his position.

Despite all his curiosities, he refused to forget his mission here: Restore justice and freedom for all Pavelus and the Sharia Empire by assassinating the tyrannical Sultan.

What seemed an eternity to Baltor passed before he saw her finally open the door to the guest bedroom, enter, close the door behind her, and begin to walk toward him. Of course, he stood only a few feet away from the balcony ready to escape.

As soon as she stood still—about five feet away from Baltor—she smiled before greeting, "Hello."

He wasted no time asking, "Why did you say 'you' like that to me?"

She began to giggle like a little girl while both of her hands draped her veil—still this act did nothing to stop the giggling underneath.

He threw up his hands in slight exasperation, and asked, "Well?"

In between the giggles, she answered, "You— _hee-hee_ —wouldn't believe me— _hee-hee_ —if I told you."

He asked with a bit of exasperation, "Can we get serious for one moment please?"

"Fine then—you want me to be serious?" the Princess asked while straightening out her composure until her back was arched straight back. She then lifted her chin until it was parallel with the floor while placing her hands delicately by her sides as she grabbed the folds of her dress. With the eloquence of a Princess, she asked, "Is this much better for you, kind lord?"

"Yes, thank you," Baltor said with a nod. He then asked, "Now, please tell me why you said 'you' like that to me, and why you didn't alert the guards to my presence?"

"Well, I dreamt about you rescuing me when I was a little girl," the Princess informed earnestly.

"Come on," Baltor said in exasperated tones while throwing his hands up with just as much exasperation, "That's preposterous! You obviously have no clue why I'm here at all, much less do you know who or what I am. So—why don't you tell me the truth?"

Both of the Princess' jet-black eyebrows rose into sharp angles upon hearing that. She sucked in a gasp of air through her nose, walked over, leaned her face until inches away from his face, and retorted, "In my dream, you weren't so mean."

His heart had strangely begun to flutter—perhaps by those gorgeous and angry eyes of hers that captivated him so—and for a few moments, he didn't know what to say at all.

Finally, as a question popped into Baltor's mind, so too did it come out of his mouth, "How old are you?"

That look of anger disappeared from the Princess' face—what replaced it was shyness before she looked down to the ground. A few moments later, she looked up at Baltor, and evenly replied, "I'm seventeen, almost eighteen."

"What's your name?" Upon completing this question, he only then remembered the answer. However, because he also thought that he would sound foolish if he said her name now, he kept silent.

A few seconds had passed before she answered, "Brishava. So how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-one," Baltor said while his eyes scanned over toward the door to ensure that it was still closed and everything was still okay—it was, even if for a moment.

The Princess began to look around uncomfortably.

He was just about to ask her if something was wrong, but then he chose to remain silent upon hearing her say, "Listen, my father's going to be looking for me soon—believe me when I say that he's very protective of me. Right now, I need to go and get ready for dinner, but I can guarantee you that there will be no royalty coming into this bedroom tonight, except for me, so you will be safe right here until I get back. Maybe an hour so."

Because she saw the confused look on his face, she explained right away, "Right after dinner is over, I will tell my father that I'm rather tired and wish to go to bed early, and then I can come back here, and we can talk some more, okay?" She headed for the door.

Instead of answering the Princess' question, Baltor asked, "What makes you think that I'm here to talk?"

She did not answer his question until after arriving at the door. She turned around and said without a doubt, "I have my strong suspicions why you're here. Please, before you do anything rash, talk to me one more time first. Promise?"

After sighing reluctantly, Baltor said, "Fine—I promise."

Without another word, she left, closing the door behind her.

Just to be on the safe side, he hid inside a closet, closed its door, and patiently waited. His patience seemed to pay off, as it seemed that an eternity had passed until that door reopened. He looked out the mostly-closed closet doors and became quite relieved to see that it was the Princess and not some roaming guard.

He noticed that she now wore a modest blue silky gown with a thick reflective-gold hem that ran along the seams, as well a matching veil that covered her face. She had her pulled back into a tight bun on the back of her head, which then splashed down around her shoulders until curling back up into the air about another inch.

"Hello?" she asked a bit timidly while looking all around the room.

He opened the door to the closet and took a step out. "I'm here, as I promised. Now, what do you want to talk about, your Highness?"

Most unexpected to him, she ran over and leaped into his arms, giggling all the while.

Though he was a powerful man, physically and otherwise, he was not ready for her surprising move. Subsequently, he had no choice but to take a few steps back.

"What in the world are you doing?" Baltor asked in shock. A different type of vanilla-smelling perfume wafted up to his nostrils, no less exotic or wonderful than the first perfume she had donned—in fact; it proved to be an even better smell.

She ripped off the veil, revealing a perfect button-shaped nose, and a full set of prominent lips already posed to pucker. Her kisses spread throughout Baltor's face and neck—all the while giggling like a little girl.

Taken aback, Baltor asked, "Why—why are you kissing me?"

The Princess did not answer the question, but instead began to kiss his lips ever so softly—he found that he was beginning to enjoy all of the passionate feelings coursing through his body. Never before had any girl kissed him like this.

An unknown amount of time had passed before she stopped kissing to gently grab his face, guide it to hers, and profess, "I love you."

That comment brought him to reality. "What in the hell are you talking about? You don't know the first thing about me."

"But we shall have our whole lifetimes to learn about each other, all the while exploring our infinite love."

He realized that this Princess' head was seriously lost in the clouds, and therefore, he decided to show her the real Baltor. He confessed, "You want to learn about me? Well, there's not much to know about me, woman, except that I am an orphan, a thief, and a killer. I do have friends, yes, but they're all thieves and murderers too."

Her mouth fell open in aghast just before she put her feet back onto the ground. While her eyes began to quiver, her mouth formed a frown.

The moment that the first tear had poured down her face only a few seconds later, he found his own heart struck, and so he tried to apologize, "I'm sorry if the truth hurts you."

"But in my dream—you were not only a mighty hero, yet also a real leader, Baltor," she revealed.

His mouth dropped open that she had somehow known his name—he had specifically not said it for an easy-to-figure-out reason.

"You—you know my name?" he finally stammered.

The Princess' only answer was to wipe away the tear with that beautiful hand of hers first before turning to leave.

He grabbed her hand before she could escape. He then asked, "How do you know my name?"

She tried to shake the embrace off while answering, "Maybe I do, but from what you just told me, then even dreams do lie! Please, just let me go."

He released his grip, but requested, "Please don't go yet. I made my promise to wait, so you owe me one. Let me talk to you for one more minute, and then you can go one way while I go another, okay?"

Slowly, she turned around while nodding her head—Baltor observed that her mascara had slightly spread out from underneath her tear-stained eyes, which eyes continued to stare at the ground.

As he gently wiped the mascara stains off her face with both of his index fingers, he thought, perhaps aloud, " _More and more beautiful every single moment!_ "

"What?" she asked just before her head shifted up so she could stare into Baltor's staring eyes.

A moment, or an eternity, later, he turned away to look to the ground. Instead of repeating his earlier statement, he muttered, "Well, Princess Brishava, it appears that I'm in quite a predicament."

"How so, Lord Baltor?"

Ignoring the added lordly title, he replied, "I'll be blunt. My purpose for coming here was not to meet you, but to assassinate your father—he is a tyrant that needs to be stopped! He doesn't care about his citizens, taxes us at ridiculous rates, robs us, or tortures or kills us if we can't pay him—one of his men even murdered my parents! But now, there is you, and I no longer know what to do."

Even though this Princess stood four inches shorter than Baltor, she gently lifted his chin until they looked eye-to-eye. Once so, she said with a hint of sadness, "Even though my father tries to hide the truth from me, I too know that he is a ruthless tyrant, but for you to kill him makes you no better!"

"Great," Baltor said with frustration and certainly not enthusiasm, "so what do you suggest?"

After drawing closer with a seductive smile now etched upon her delicate face, she wrapped her arms loosely around his waist. Just before kissing his lips, she answered, "There are better ways to become the Sultan."

This time, he could no longer resist her kisses, and for an unknown amount of time to pass, the passionate kissing commenced...

## CHAPTER XIX

Inevitably, the time came when Baltor purposefully twisted his head away, so they had no choice but to stop kissing, which time certainly was not enough in the Princess' opinion. He asked, "Like what?"

"Silly," she answered, "that's the easy part."

"It is?"

She propped herself forward onto the tips of her toes so that her lips were a half an inch away from Baltor's ear. She then whispered seductively, "Yes, run away with me, tonight. Marry me tomorrow. As far as I'm concerned, our honeymoon can go on for many months, or years."

Because of her bold marriage proposal, Baltor could only stand there in shocked silence.

While still clasping his arms, she abruptly rocked back onto her heels, which allowed her to swing away a few inches so she could give him "the up-and-down look."

Upon looking directly into his eyes, she cooed with a pleased smile, "After all, you are the finest thing, my eyes have ever seen...and that is what I truly mean, you absolutely gorgeous machine!"

The shock inside of Baltor instantly became replaced by the feelings of being flattered, due to her poetic compliment!

After all, he had never really thought of himself as good or bad looking, just average. In fact, the only person who had ever complimented Baltor on his looks, besides his mother, a few other girls in the Guild, and this Princess, was Lydia. And even though Lydia had once told Baltor that he could have his choice of any number of women, he could not have the one woman he had wanted for so long—Lydia herself.

Now here was this girl he did not even know one iota, except for the fact that she is the daughter of the man he had been planning to kill, and that she had just proposed marriage to him.

All the while, Brishava gave a light sigh of content, wrapped her arms delicately back around his torso, looked deep into his eyes, and then whispered, "Only when the time is right, and we are ready will we come back. It shall be then and there that I declare to my father that you are my husband—and one day, the next Sultan of the Sharia Empire!"

Baltor thought her plan preposterous, and so he pulled away from her hug, and said in an almost-too-loud tone of voice, "Your father will never concede to this—never! I am an orphaned peasant...literally!"

"Not once you've married me. Once you are my husband, you shall become the royalty that I have always been since birth! Regardless of whether my father accepts us or not; in the end, one day he will pass off into oblivion, and you will be the Sultan. And I, the Sultaness."

"But—"

She gently cupped her hand over his mouth, which immediately silenced him. She whispered, " _Shhh_... You are making things far too complicated! I know that I have always loved you ever since my eyes first beheld you within my dreams as a little girl, but can you grow to love me? Do you want to take the chance and be with me—to tease out all my girly secrets, while simultaneously exploring all my womanly secrets? I have many, I can assure you of that, and they're all excellent ones."

She removed the hand cupped on Baltor's mouth, placed it lightly upon his strong shoulder, and silently gazed into his eyes with absolutely no doubt.

Baltor responded, this time much quieter, "Yes, I feel something for you. But I, we, don't even know what love is, nor do we even know each other at all."

A curious expression crossed her face just before she began to study every contour of his face. Except for a manly-looking nose and a neatly braided goatee, she realized that the rest of Baltor's facial features semi-resembled that of a hawk.

Upon looking into his eyes once more, she sighed, "Baltor, Baltor, Baltor. To me, love begins as a simple feeling, yet ultimately it ends as a unified state of mind, heart, and soul. Never will those feelings end, not even Death...unless, of course, you want those feelings to stop! And trust me that we'll have plenty of time to get to learn about each other. That'll be half the fun!" She smiled from ear-to-ear.

Baltor stood in silence for a lengthy amount of time and pondered her words, especially, "not even Death." Finally, he said, "I hear your promises, but—but you don't know the first thing about me. Until you do, marriage is out of the question."

"Why?"

"There are some things about me that you may not like discovering."

"Like what?"

"I... I have an unusual and mysterious illness that prevents me from bearing sunlight, so I live by the night and sleep during the day. My illness also prevents me from eating the same foods as you—my meals have to be specially prepared, in which I always eat alone! If that's not enough, I don't think that I'm ready to get married, just like that. Now, do you understand my three critical reasons why?"

"Then I will become nocturnal myself, and you can eat whatever you want on your own whenever you're hungry. As for the marriage, I will patiently wait until you are ready, okay?"

"Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that, Baltor. So please relax."

"I'll try."

"Will you also please try things my way, and if they don't work for you, then you can go back to your way?"

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of killing my father, take me with you, and let's run away...tonight."

"As you wish, Princess Brishava."

"Just like that?"

Baltor smiled. "Just like that."

"Great," she squealed with excitement. "There is one last thing. My father will check on me before he goes to bed at midnight. Afterward, I will come back, all packed and ready to go. The only problem we will have is how to escape the palace."

"Escaping will be no problem, my Princess. In fact, I've got an idea—why don't I climb onto the roof, walk over to your balcony, and hide in your room until after your father checks on you, and then we can leave right after? After all, I am a professional thief."

She exclaimed, "That sounds like a great idea!" She turned to head out of the bedroom. However, before she had even taken a step, she turned, and jumped into Baltor's arms while exclaiming, "I love you! I love you! I love you so much, my beautiful Baltor, my beautiful soon-to-be Sultan!"

This time, Baltor was ready for her leap and even happier about the ensuing kisses.

Right after she left, perhaps a minute later, he headed out to the balcony. While reaching for the ledge above, he jumped straight up and grabbed onto it.

After climbing onto the roof, he quickly made his way to the Princess' balcony before dropping down behind a patio chair and scanning the room out for people.

Upon realizing that no one was in this room, he sat down in that chair and got comfortable.

Just then, the guards opened the door, the Princess entered the room, and the guards closed the door.

As soon as her eyes had discovered Baltor sitting on her balcony, she became startled to the point that she nearly jumped two feet into the air—thankfully she didn't yelp.

Baltor said in just above a whisper, "Hey there, beautiful..."

"My," she hummed, "you are quick."

He threw her a gentle smile, yet instead of commenting about his quickness, he asked, "So where would be a good place for me to hide?"

"Under my bed, but give me a quick kiss first! My handmaidens will be here momentarily to assist me into my nightgown, so you must be one hundred percent quiet from the time they arrive until the time they leave."

He obliged the Princess with a quick kiss, climbed underneath the center of the king-sized bed, closed his eyes, and unexpectedly drifted off into a light sleep.

About a minute later, two young women entered the room. They first removed the barrettes out of the Princess' hair, causing it to splash all the way down her back, and then they combed through it all thoroughly for several more minutes.

Upon completion, they carefully removed the makeup on her face with a moist sponge. Five minutes later, they assisted her out of her dress, and into her nightgown. Once done, they gave a bow, said their good nights, and left for the evening.

The Princess wasted not a single second as she began the process of packing her belongings into a black backpack.

Once done about thirty minutes later, she hid the pack in her closet before climbing into bed. A few moments later, she whispered, "Hello, my love."

He forthwith awoke from his nap, and whispered back, "Hello. Are you now done with everything?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good."

"Hopefully my father will soon come so that we can go! I don't like not being able to look at you—not one bit."

"Well, at least it's not too uncomfortable down here."

After a short giggle, she added, "That's good to hear. If you like, later, I could give you a back massage?"

Baltor hummed, "Hmmm."

" _Shhh_... I think he's coming."

The sounds of two muffled voices slowly-but-surely grew louder as they approached the Princess' bedroom. One voice sounded to Baltor like the Sultan's while the other voice must belong to his ruling general.

Perhaps a quarter-minute passed before the guards outside the bedroom opened the double doors, and in walked the Sultan, himself.

Once inside, the man turned around and said, "I'll be right out in a minute, Ruling-General Glacius. I need to say goodnight to my daughter."

Glacius's snappy reply was, "Yes, my Sultan! Guards, once you've both closed your door, you are relieved of duty for tonight, as your replacements are on the way. Dismissed..."

"Yes, Ruling-General," the guards responded before closing the doors and heading for the staircase.

Meanwhile, the Sultan continued approaching the bed—the only thing that Baltor could see under the bed was a pair of the man's gold-embroidered velvet slippers, each bearing the symbol of the crossed-sabers on top.

Baltor kept perfectly still, including stopping his breathing altogether.

As soon as the Sultan reached the side of the bed, he said, "Good night, my beautiful Princess."

"Good night, Daddy," she responded.

"I apologize for yelling at you earlier, Brishava, but you must ensure at all times that the attire you wear is appropriate. After all, one day, you will become the next Sultaness, and I do not want any of our subjects thinking of you as a slut!"

Hearing that last word caused her to get angry to the point she half-yelled, "Just because I decide to show a little skin does not make me a slut, Father! Now if I was inviting all the hunks in our empire to have a fling with me, and you know what I mean, then I would understand why our subjects would think of me as a slut, which I never was and never will be! I'm still a virgin."

In turn, the Sultan had become just as angry, and so he snapped back, "Brishava! I would suggest that you keep your mouth shut, especially once you've married the Duke of Vispano in nine months from now. He may not be as forgiving of a man as I am, and I shall not live forever to protect you!"

After releasing a little sigh, she sounded submissive while replying, "You're right, Father. I'm wrong. Okay? For now, I'll keep my little mouth shut, except to swear to be the obedient wife to the man I ultimately marry before God—I swear that on everything. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Daddy—I love you!"

The Sultan chuckled a few times before saying, "Good, now maybe we can have some peace around here. I love you too—goodnight!" He leaned in, gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead, turned around, headed toward the door, opened it, exited the room, turned around in the middle of the hallway, and waved at his daughter. His ruling-general closed both doors only a moment later, at which point the two men walked toward another bedroom located in another hall.

Perhaps five minutes later, Baltor heard the sounds of new guards taking their posts outside the Princess' bedroom door.

Because he knew that the coast was clear, he slid out from under the bed, stood onto his feet, and then asked, "Ready to go?"

"No, I'm not. I have to change," she answered just before walking behind a three-piece stand.

When she came out a minute later, she wore a silky black cape with a matching tunic and pants; her knee-high boots were also black but made of leather. She next opened the closet, pulled out the backpack, strapped it on, and then said, "I'm ready."

Despite her camouflaged appearance, Baltor could make out her perfectly formed curves and confirmed that she was indeed an extraordinarily beautiful woman, no matter what she wore.

A few seconds passed before he stopped staring at her, spun his body around until facing the balcony, walked over to it, but did not step out. Instead, he scanned the area outside thoroughly, and then he said, "Climb on my back and hold onto me tight with your arms and legs...in other words, I'm going to carry you piggyback style."

Without hesitation, she did—once he saw no guards around the area, he hopped down from balcony to balcony until landing on the ground.

It took him only two seconds to reach the exterior palace walls, even with the Princess on his back!

Though she wanted to "wee" out from this exhilarating ride, she continued to remain silent as she watched him swiftly climb the eighty-foot walls, even with her added weight.

Instead of hopping down and perhaps damaging the Princess due to the impact with the ground, he scaled his way down the other side before speedily running past the impaled people and then all the guards. Fortune smiled as not one person had seen Baltor or the Princess, yet.

Several city blocks away from the Sultan's palace, of which there were quite a few other upper-class mansions with spacious properties around here, Baltor halted in place as no other people were in eyesight. He looked over his shoulder before saying, "You may get down and walk beside me now if you wish."

Without saying a word, she stepped down onto her feet, at which point she pulled the hood over her head to conceal her face. They began to walk through the streets side-by-side.

Several minutes had passed before she broke the silence by asking, "How is it that you can do such amazing feats with such breathtaking speeds?"

"I'm a professionally trained thief, remember?"

"I see," she said in awe. After releasing a deep sigh, she added, "Well, as for me, for an unknown amount of time to come that may turn out to be many years from now, I'm just an ordinary peasant girl wishing I was a Princess, right?"

"Right."

Neither person said another word as they continued to walk the city streets.

Perhaps ten minutes later, they were twenty feet away from a T-intersection when a squadron of guards marched around the right corner and directly toward them! The buildings surrounding this intersection was a five-story mansion to the left, a three-story mansion to the right, and a two-story mansion in front of them; in this neighborhood, all the buildings butted right up against the sidewalks.

Even though Baltor was astonished that he had not heard them marching, especially with his vampire hearing, he still counted out a squad leader leading two columns of six guards—all were armed with weapons. While the furthest two guards carried a longbow in hand, the remainder carried sheathed swords on their belts.

He stopped walking while gesturing with his hand for Brishava to stop—she did.

Once the squad leader was ten feet away from Baltor and the Princess only a couple of seconds later, he called out to his troops, "Halt." His voice sounded nasal.

The squad leader and his guards halted in unison a step later: In that same nasal tone of voice, he called out, "Who goes there?"

Baltor had been using his peripherals to scan his area quickly while trying to formulate a plan of escape.

Unfortunately, he could not think of a way to safely get Brishava onto his back and scale any of these walls without giving the guards at least one opportunity to hurt her. The only other escape option that existed was picking her up in his arms and taking this road back toward the Sultan's palace until finding another route. His mind wondered, _Will I be quick enough to grab Brishava, hightail it that way, and lose these guards without getting her hurt?_

Moments after the squad leader had asked the question, Brishava recognized his lieutenant-rank, and so she answered, "Lieutenant, that is none of your business, as we are on a top-secret mission for the Sultan, himself."

Even though this lieutenant issued no orders, ten of his men had just begun to march forward until surrounding Baltor and Brishava, which only took them an additional ten seconds. The two archers stayed in place while notching arrows into their bows.

Now surrounded, Baltor realized dismally that the option of escape was gone; the only two options now were talking or fighting. And fighting all of these men would probably get Brishava killed, which left only one option.

"Really," the squad leader sighed nasally. "Then I don't suppose you have top secret proof to your supposed claims?"

She chimed, "That's why it's called 'top secret,' dear."

"Are you trying to get smart with me? I'll take you in for that alone!"

"No, of course not, officer," she answered humbly.

"There's something oddly familiar about your voice—let me see your face, woman."

The hope that she would be persuasive enough to get out of there without a fight was beginning to disappear within Baltor's mind. Once more, he commenced to look around with his peripherals, this time for anything or anybody he could use as a distraction to give them the time to escape, yet found nothing.

Meanwhile, Brishava answered, "I'm sorry, but I really can't do that."

"Why not?"

She answered in haughty tones, "My identity must also remain top secret, Lieutenant—the consequences for revealing my identity could be disastrous to the Sharia Empire!"

"Yeah, right. Take off the hood now. Or I'll have my troops do it for you!"

Slowly but surely, Brishava complied.

Out of the thirteen men, only this lieutenant had ever met the Princess before up close. This event happened at the only military ball he had been invited to attend, shortly after his commission about a year ago. After his major had introduced him by name and rank to the Princess in the greeting line, the lieutenant had never forgotten the moment when her mesmerizing eyes met his own eyes—his heart not only pounded in his chest back then but now. Nor had he forgotten when she had smiled before replying, "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Cuffins." Nor when he had smiled back before saying, "The pleasure is all mine, Princess Brishava!"

Unfortunate for him, his major tapped him hard on the shoulder before pointing to the next person in line they had to greet—he kept his poker face and followed the major. Ever since that event, even though Cuffins believed that he had a rat's chance in hell of hooking up with the daughter of the Sultan—he never stopped secretly wishing that maybe one day he would become her rescuer, her hero, and now maybe that day had finally come!

"Princ—" Cuffins tried to say, but Baltor's sword interrupted him by slicing off his head!

Even though the guards had become stunned as to what they just witnessed, they did recognize that this man was a grave threat and needed to be executed, as he had killed their lieutenant. They also gathered from his last incomplete word that this woman must be the Princess, and must be kept safe.

All but one of the guards who carried swords drew their weapons, yet nobody launched an attack. That guard without a weapon in hand—a sergeant—grabbed the Princess by her hand and quickly yanked her out of harm's way. Only then did the other guards commence to move closer to Baltor with swords ready to strike!

Baltor's sword arm proved to be so fast that he easily deflected every single attack, occasionally landing a finishing blow of his own, one after the other!

One minute into the battle, the sergeant noticed that all of his buddies were swiftly getting slaughtered, and so he promised Brishava, "Come with me, your Highness, and I'll get you to safety back to the palace where you belong!"

She shook her head a couple of times before saying, "No way."

The sergeant decided to get her to safety no matter what she wanted, so he picked her up, threw her body over his shoulder, and began to run toward the palace's main entrance about ten blocks away. This time, she commenced to scream and fight back—but he kept his grip on her locked as he ran. On occasion, he screamed out, "Guards...help me! Guards...I have Princess Brishava! Help!"

Because Baltor heard all of the screaming, he quickened his offensive strikes; it only took him thirty seconds to finish off the four remaining guards!

He wasted no time running at top speed for the sergeant, who he saw was now nearly two blocks ahead—especially since his binocular-vision spotted another squad of soldiers about three blocks ahead! They all had their weapons drawn as they ran in formation toward the sergeant, as well!

It took five seconds for Baltor to reach the man, at which point he punched both of his fists into the man's back, causing him to crash hard into the ground with Baltor on top! As for the Princess, she flew and landed five feet away!

Baltor snapped the sergeant's neck, ran over to Brishava, picked her up, and ran for a half-mile before stopping. He then gently set her down onto her feet.

After giving her "the up-down look," he asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head, and said, "My shoulder hurts a bit from hitting the ground, but other than that—yes, I'm okay."

His eyes glanced around for a couple of seconds before he said, "Brishava, we've got to get going and quickly—more guards may be around at any corner! Climb on my back." She did.

This time, he used his super speeds to get them to their destination—never before had she ever seen anyone move so fast, and she had seen many fast runners.

Less than five minutes later, he slowed down his pace a quarter-block short of the Guild. He then said, "We'll be there in a moment. Until we find my friend and I say it's okay for you to talk, I'm going to need for you to remain completely silent. In other words, let me be the one doing the talking...okay?"

She tightened her grip even more before sighing, "Okay, love."

A few seconds later, they stopped in the shadows of the thirty-foot wall that contained the Guild.

After glancing from side to side to ensure that the coast was still clear, Baltor climbed almost to the top of the wall, gripping the edges with his fingers. Slowly he pulled himself up until just his head peeked over the wall.

When he saw no one around on the other side, he climbed over the top with Brishava still on his back before dropping down to the ground.

Stealthily, he maneuvered toward Humonus' apartment, although he saw no guards or people around the entire time—it was, after all, late at night. Once standing before the door, Brishava stepped back on her feet and stood to his side; meanwhile, Baltor lightly tapped the door several times, but no one answered. He knocked again about ten seconds later, this time louder, but still no response.

After the third set of knocking that was even louder, he growled, "Damn! I have no way of getting us underground before morning...my friend's my only ticket in that big building over there, which is how we get underground!"

"Why not?" she asked, having forgotten that she should not speak unless he said it was okay.

"Because," he answered, "there are plenty of lethally-trained guards who watch all of the entrances at all times, and I don't have a pass anymore."

Just as he had finished saying that, a good idea crossed his mind—there was another person he knew who could get him in. He snapped his fingers before saying, "Better yet—climb on my back and let's just go to my other friend's apartment, and see if she's there to get us in."

She nodded her head, and said, "Okay."

With her once again on his back, he snuck over to Lydia's onsite apartment, which took several more minutes.

Once there, he knocked loudly on her door several times, but no one answered.

Frustrated, he cried, "Damn. Now I don't know what to do—I have to get underground soon! See? The skies are seriously beginning to lighten up...dawn will be here soon!"

"There's got to be something we can do, sweetheart," she responded. "Do you know if any other entrances around here lead underground?"

He snapped his fingers upon thinking about the tunnel near the spa he had visited hundreds of times over the years, and said, "Yes I do."

"Which way do we go?"

"Damn it—forget it! I don't know how to get there from above ground—damn it!"

She sighed before suggesting, "You must relax, please. An answer will reveal itself before it is too late!"

He sounded discouraged as he asked, "The answer to what?"

"The answer to the problem of how to get you underground before the sun rises."

"The only other solution I can foresee is fighting my way inside, even though I do not want to go that route and for a couple of reasons! First, there are not only a lot of guards, yet trained thieves...hundreds of people at least. Second, I'd rather not be involved in a bloodbath."

She did not say anything, though her face betrayed a concerned and worried look.

After grimly shaking his head a few times, he said, "Let's go—climb on my back. We're just going to have to fight our way in, and hopefully, we'll be able to hide way down there in the labyrinth until tonight. Then we can leave the city."

Upon arriving at the side of the palace a quarter minute later, he began to run for the front doors.

Only a handful of seconds had passed before he knew it was too late to fight, as the sun had just risen; his body felt weak and tired! The only thing that worked in his favor was the fact that the shadows here would block the sun's rays, but for only a couple of hours.

Precisely one second after the sun had risen; he found his weak legs give out beneath him, causing both of them to crash into the ground.

She picked herself up, rushed to him, flipped him over onto his back, laid his head upon her lap, and began to rub his hair. His eyes wanted to shut from sheer exhaustion, but neither did they want to close either and stop gazing upon her lovely face.

From out of the corner of his now-squinting eyes, he noticed a furtive movement, and so he looked over to see someone jogging upon the winding cobblestone path. It did not take him long to realize that this person was Lydia.

"Lydia," he tried to call out but found that the only sound he could produce was a hollow whisper.

Brishava had heard the name, however, and yelled it out far too loud.

Lydia stopped running and looked over, but she saw only two shadowy figures by the side of the building, one sitting and one lying on the ground. She also noticed that one of the guards by the door had heard the sound as well, and had begun to run toward the source of the noise.

While approaching closer, she called out, "Who are you?"

Although Baltor's eyes had just closed, perhaps forever, he whispered, "Tell her that it's Baltor."

"Baltor," Brishava said much louder.

Lydia jogged over until standing ten feet away. After stopping, she could now see that it was indeed Baltor, as well a woman she had no clue of her identity. She asked, "Baltor, who—who the hell is that with you?"

"I'll explain in a minute. Right now, I need to get inside," Baltor whispered as loud as he could, hoping Lydia heard.

By this time, the guard stood next to Lydia. He asked, "Is there a problem, Mistress Lydia?"

"No, there isn't. I know them. They're with me."

"Yes, ma'am. Would you like assistance?"

"No, thanks, I've got him," Lydia said. She assisted Baltor onto his feet by draping one of his arms around her shoulder, while Brishava wrapped the other arm around her shoulder. They led him inside and past the guards.

Once seated on one of the lush couches, Lydia probed, "Who is that with you and why is she here?"

Even though all Baltor wanted to do was sleep, he explained, "She's just a good friend of mine. I brought her here— _yawn_ —because guards were chasing us and I had no other choice."

"You know the rules, Baltor," Lydia replied. "The High Council will not be pleased."

"What they don't know— _yawn_ —won't hurt them," he replied.

Lydia had a response for that, but Brishava beat her to the punch by saying, "Please, Lydia, we need a place to sleep today, deep underground. We'll be out of here by tonight, I promise!"

Lydia scanned back and forth between Baltor and the woman. From a quick glance, she could tell that this young woman was deeply concerned for him, yet she suspected much more. She could also decipher that he was nearly asleep on the couch—Lydia's sympathy won, barely. Therefore, she said, "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you today, Baltor, but you both can sleep in a spot I personally select, but only for today. Do not leave! I will come down tonight so that we can talk further before you head your own way. Deal?"

"Deal. Thank you," he said just before yawning deeply.

The two girls assisted Baltor until they inevitably arrived in one of the deeper tunnels.

Once Lydia had stopped, she said, "This spot will do—you'll both be safe here. But remember, before you leave tonight, I need to talk to the both of you."

After nodding, Baltor plopped down onto the ground—already sound asleep.

## CHAPTER XX

As soon as the sun had set, Baltor awoke. Even before opening his eyes, he felt a warm woman's body pressed up tight against his own while his arms just-as-tightly wrapped around her waist; all the while, his ears continued to hear something else. The sounds of two hearts beating as one—for the first time since his transformation to an undead vampire did he become aware that he still had a heartbeat!

Upon opening his eyes a few seconds later, he confirmed it to be Brishava who slept beside him. His mind became relieved that his stomach had not accidentally taken control, in which he felt no hunger pangs at all. However, because his body relished holding this woman, he soon after drifted off to sleep.

Several hours had passed before she sighed contentedly; that straight away woke him up.

He whispered, "Are you awake now, Brishava?"

She answered with a question, "Hmmm?"

"I asked...are you awake now?"

"No and yes. The first time you asked that question, I was sleeping. The second time, I thought I was dreaming yet was afraid to wake up and find that it was only a dream, my love!"

From her response, he could only sigh pleasurably. Never in his life had he ever imagined that he could be so happy!

Even in the utter darkness, she turned over until facing him before cradling his face with both of her hands. "My—your skin is cold! I wish I had a blanket to keep you warm, my love."

"I—I can't believe it!"

"What can't you believe?"

After a moment to formulate the right words, Baltor answered, "I can't believe how happy I am! I can't believe that I've been lucky enough to meet you..."

"Really?" she cooed. She commenced kissing his cheeks and forehead with her lips to warm them up.

He laughed confidently, "Yes!"

Her lips soon found his lips, and they began to kiss, softly and gently. Soon after, their kisses intensified as their passions began to rise...

However, that bliss was interrupted only a half-minute later—thanks to Baltor's keen ears hearing _someone else_ heading their way. He stopped in mid-kiss to look the direction where he heard the virtually soundless footsteps but saw nobody yet.

Brishava asked, "What is it?"

"Shhh," he whispered just loud enough for her ears to hear.

A few seconds had passed before he saw Lydia round the bend about twenty feet away before walking toward them through the pitch-black tunnel.

He stood up while saying aloud, "Mistress Lydia, I'm over here."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that you are," Lydia answered—her voice strangely without any emotions.

"We shall be leaving immediately. As for where we're going, we plan to let the tides—" he tried to say.

Sounding irritated, Lydia interrupted, "You can't go anywhere! The High Council needs to speak to both you, and your girlfriend, who we already know just happens to be the Sultan's daughter!"

After noiselessly picking up his sword that lay on the ground a few feet away, he asked, "How'd you know about her?"

She snapped back, "Who doesn't know? The Sultan's men are desperately tearing Pavelus apart trying to find her. It will only be a matter of time before our headquarters gets searched. Please come with me."

"Listen, Mistress Lydia. Please let us escape out a back entrance or something...and then we'll be gone forever!"

"No, Baltor," Lydia replied insistently, "I've strict orders to take you two lovebirds before the High Council right now. Let's go."

He stated, "No, we won't go. Please—just report to them that we were long gone by the time you got here!"

"No," Lydia said just before snapping her fingers one time. Six people walked out from around the bend behind her; two carried burning torches, while the other four wielded weapons.

Sword still in hand, Baltor assumed the ready position.

Lydia said, "Do not fight us but come voluntarily."

"We will not come—after all, we plan to get as far away from here, and as soon as possible," Baltor declared.

Perhaps ten seconds passed before Lydia said, "If you do not come voluntarily, then the majority have already voted that you are to come involuntarily, alive or dead! So if you insist on fighting, I'd have the Princess take some steps back, since she'd become utterly worthless to the Guild if she were to die accidentally."

Baltor said, "Step back, Brishava."

She took a dozen steps back until standing outside the perimeter of the torchlight, and then she stopped so she could watch.

"Baltor, before I order my thieves to take you down, in which everyone here has at least five more years of experience than you, I need to declare the charges brought against you by the Guild, in case you don't live to see trial...

"Number one—you showed a non-member the location of the Guild. Number two—you revealed the identity of a guild-member to a non-member. What makes this second charge far worse is the fact that this member is a High Councilor—and, here's the clincher. That member happens to be me! You know the penalties for violating your most sacred oath, especially since you refuse to defend your reasons for kidnapping the Princess before the High Council."

To the thieves behind her, Lydia commanded, "Kill Baltor slowly, piece by piece—but leave the Princess alive! She'll be worth a hell of a lot of money upon her safe return to her daddy!"

The four thieves armed with weapons assembled side-by-side in front of Lydia. The first held out his steel quarterstaff, the second pulled out a stiletto from his boot, the third drew out two of daggers from her belt, and the last person unsheathed the longsword sheathed on his back—they stood twenty feet away from Baltor.

Solely because of Brishava, Baltor dare not let loose the beast within—he did not want to kill her, not even by accident. Instead, he began to take steps forward, concurrently twisting and twirling his sword with one or both hands all around his body—the speed and the song of the sword astonished three of the thieves to the point they stopped maneuvering to watch in awe. Even Lydia looked mildly impressed.

Only one thief had the courage to keep going, the man armed with the stiletto. Because he had never lost a single battle since acquiring this extraordinarily speedy weapon fifteen years ago, and he had been in dozens of battles, he came to discover with great surprise and confusion that he could no longer feel anything below his neck—Baltor's sword had cleanly separated his head and his body. Before that same second had ended, the man's head, body, and weapon fell to the ground!

Baltor stopped moving forward, assuming the position with his sword ready to strike or block.

The man with the quarterstaff drew closer, all the while expertly twirling it around his own body with one or both hands about a dozen times. He stopped six feet away from Baltor, assuming the ready position with his weapon horizontally resting four inches in front of his body.

With total wrist control, that man flicked one end of his quarterstaff straight out in front of him, intending to make it bop the top of his opponent's head and knock him unconscious—however, Baltor had already safely somersaulted to the front-right just before launching an upward slice of his sword!

Blood began to gurgle from the man's mouth as he unsuccessfully tried to speak while blood and guts spilled out from the large gash that started in his lower abdomen and ended in his chest. Even before his body and quarterstaff dropped to the ground, he was already dead.

Loud, ringing sounds reverberated throughout the cave tunnels, thanks to the quarterstaff that continued to roll downhill. Meanwhile, the woman twisted and twirled both daggers around her body like a pro while taunting, "You think you're quick? I'll show you quick! Come on!"

Baltor smiled sweetly in response to her threat, yet remained in the defensive position.

Without warning, the woman somersaulted forward. After rising to her feet, she launched one of her daggers like a spear—aimed for his heart!

At the last possible moment, he slapped the side of this weapon with his sword, causing the knife to fly away before its tip stuck into the ground—he once again assumed the ready position.

Though he heard the woman growl angrily, he also saw her flick the other dagger, as if a dart—a dart that flew straight for Baltor's right eyeball!

A nanosecond before this dagger could penetrate—he slapped his sword into it. In turn, the second knife deflected off the wall before clinking on the ground.

He threw her another sweet smile before asking, "Would you like to throw that third dagger you've got tucked in your belt behind your back at me? This time, I must warn you, you will find it plunging all the way up to the hilt in your heart—without it even so much as having touched my hands one time. You will die quickly, but it will be excruciating to the end."

Without another word, the woman turned around and ran away, as did one of the two people carrying a torch. The remaining thieves—Lydia and a man Baltor didn't recognize—did not approach closer. They both looked astonished!

"Please leave, or I will be forced to kill you both, even though that is not my intent or desire," Baltor promised.

After a short pause to consider his words, Lydia stated evenly, "Even if you should happen to kill us, the rest of the Guild will eventually track you down and—"

Baltor interrupted, "Perhaps, but I seriously doubt that they'll be able to take me down by killing me. After all, I lied to the High Council about one thing regarding my quest—I did find the rod. And not only is it very magical, but it has also even given me the strength, speed, and power of four men!"

Lydia couldn't help but slowly shake her head from side to side while asking, "What in the world are you talking about? When I saw you not even twelve hours ago, you were weak as a baby!"

" _Ahhhh_ ," Baltor replied, "but that's because I have only had it for a brief time. Yet every day and night that passes, I become that much stronger and more powerful!"

Lydia did not believe his words, nor did she want to hear any more of what she believed were lies. Therefore, she decreed, "by order of the High Council, I command you to surrender by slowly placing your weapon on the ground and raising your hands above your head! This is your final chance, or I will dispose of you myself."

He replied, "No." He began to take steps backward while always remaining in the ready position. Without looking back, he soon found and grabbed Brishava's wrist with his free hand and said, "Let's go, my love."

As he began to head down the tunnel, still facing his enemies the whole way through, he noticed that they continued to follow though they kept their distance.

Nearly a minute later, out of his peripheral vision, Baltor spotted a twenty-foot-long ladder that led up to a grate. He placed Brishava's hand on the ladder before telling her, "You climb first. I'll be right behind you."

Without saying a word, she began to climb. Once she had reached the top of the ladder and opened the grate, he started to follow.

Upon reaching the halfway point, he stopped, looked over at Lydia, and said, "My Mistress, you turned my life around many years ago. You gave me a direction where I had none. It has all led up to this date—this moment in time. Please, just let us go, and you'll never see me or my beloved around here again, though you'll always have my gratitude and friendship for everything."

Lydia drew her short sword before snapping, "I can't let you do that! You violated your oath by bringing the daughter of the Sultan here. You even told her who I am—you must be punished for your crime...by death!"

She leaped at Baltor—but his speed proved to be even faster. He had already landed on the ground a dozen feet away.

Her target was not him, but the ladder—she yanked hard on it, causing it to collapse to the ground. She then said, "Now let's see how your pretty little Princess behaves on her own, for once in her life. It is time for you to die!" With a look of hatred planted upon her face, she leaped again at Baltor while jabbing her sword at him.

He easily parried with his sword, and though he could have just as easily turned the defense into an offensive strike and killed her, he did not. Instead, he rolled several times backward. Once he had regained the ready position, he pleaded, "Please don't fight me, Lydia. Don't make me unleash the power of the rod upon you!"

She paused.

"All we wish to do is leave and go far, far away to the opposite side of the planet. Forever!"

Lydia sheathed her short sword before releasing a deep sigh and ordering the thief who stood nearby, "Put the ladder back up."

Baltor was speechless at hearing her words, but he let his face betray no emotions.

That thief wasted no time as he picked the ladder up and leaned it against the grate. At the same time, Lydia sighed. She then said, "I'm sorry, Baltor! I don't know what came over me—you're right. Am I forgiven?" She proceeded to walk closer while extending her arms out in front of her for a hug.

In turn, he sheathed his sword before raising both of his hands to hug her back while saying, "Of course you are forgiven."

Perhaps five seconds after the hug had begun; Baltor unexpectedly felt her dagger plunge deep into his back and into his heart—he screamed loud and long in unbearable pain! The very second that he had commenced to scream, a fierce gust of wind simultaneously passed through the tunnel—powerful enough to extinguish the torch and cast the area into immediate darkness!

That scream abruptly transformed into a monstrous roar as the vompareus emerged— _IT_ grabbed Lydia, pulled both her and the dagger even deeper into him, and then sank its vampire fangs into her neck—Lydia screamed in agony before blacking out!

Even before the roaring had ended, the final thief in the vicinity freaked out and took off through the pitch-black tunnels while often stumbling in the process.

A second or so after commencing to drink, _IT_ unexpectedly began hearing the sounds of footsteps descending the ladder. _IT_ pulled its fangs away from her throat before looking up and over—upon seeing the feet of Brishava, Baltor's human-mind-and-body instantly returned.

Before she had the chance to look his direction, he had already thrown Lydia's body over his shoulder and ran off into the darkness. About two hundred feet away, he stopped, but as he watched the blood flow from her jugular vein, he felt his stomach growling for more—he continued to feast. Lydia's knowledge began to surge into his brain.

He learned all her master thievery skills, in which he now knew nearly every skill possible, yet he learned all about her personal history. In particular, he became quite surprised to discover that she had fallen in love with Baltor upon his declaration and challenge to the High Council to overthrow the Sultan the night before. However, when Lydia had first seen Baltor and the woman-in-black this morning, it did not register to her that this woman was Princess Brishava. Furthermore, Lydia was confused by this woman's strong feelings for Baltor, and also his physical exhaustion and weakness.

If that wasn't enough, when the High Council convened early this evening to discuss the "missing Princess," Lydia only then pieced together the facts. Because her loyalty lay with the Guild, she reported not only these facts, yet the confession she heard Baltor make about being forced to kill Salmot after claiming that the man had tried to kill Baltor on two separate occasions. She concluded her report by saying that Baltor did claim to have proof for all his claims, but shown nothing to her.

Upon hearing this, Tricia proposed that she had two options regarding Baltor's fate, in which the High Council needed to vote one way or the other. One, bring him in alive whether he wanted to come or not—unharmed and unarmed—so that he could defend himself in a trial for all his actions, including kidnapping and murder. Two, trick him into thinking that he would be granted a trial, disarm him, tie him up, and then dissect him until dead. Lydia, Tricia, Bayema, and three others voted for the first option—everyone else the second. As always, the majority won.

Tricia next asked the Council about what they should do with the Princess—kill her and throw her body down a bottomless pit or return her alive and well to her father, and earn a huge reward. Unanimous votes came from everyone for the second option right before they concluded the meeting.

Just before Baltor finished his meal, he discovered the most shocking piece of information about Lydia; news that made him feel horrible. Only a few minutes earlier, when she had heard Baltor call Brishava "my love," Lydia realized that this man was now in love with the Princess and no longer in love with her—she felt hurt, betrayed, and worst of all, unloved. Just as her life ended, she realized her only "true love" was the Guild itself.

By the time dinner had concluded, Baltor felt pretty guilty that it was too late to save her life—for he had consumed every last bit of blood.

Brishava had apparently not seen Baltor, or his vampire act, as she timidly called out, "Baltor, my beloved, are you still there?"

For the next minute or so, she kept calling out his name with fear growing in her voice each time.

While trying to sound weary even though feeling incredibly vibrant, he answered, "I'm coming. Hold on a minute, please."

He laid Lydia's body on the ground, unsheathed his sword, chopped her head off precisely over the bite marks, and then sheathed his sword.

Because her memory banks had also revealed that she carried her ID in her back pocket—he took that ID and put it in his front pocket.

He next took off his shirt and looked over his shoulder at his back—the dagger wound had not only healed up, yet he could find no evidence of a scar, at least a physical one.

"I'm on my way," he replied after tossing the bloodied shirt onto the ground and walking to the ladder.

Even before he entered the perimeter of her light, he could tell that Brishava looked frightened, and that tears had stopped flowing from her puffy eyes upon having seen him emerge from the darkness.

Her fears appeared to be only semi-relieved, as she cried, "Baltor! Are you all right?"

Baltor looked down at the ground before answering, "Not really."

She checked all over his body, yet after having found no wounds, she asked, "Where does it hurt?"

"In my heart..."

She walked around him one time before saying, "But I see no wounds on your chest or back."

"The injuries that I speak of are not physical—they are emotional," he said with sadness.

"Why?" Brishava asked, "Were you close to Lydia?"

"Yes, I was," he answered. "I've known her longer than I've known anyone else, including my parents!"

Before she could ask another question, in which it looked obvious to him that she had many more questions to ask, he shook his head a couple of times and said, "Please let me elaborate on all this at a later date. For now, we must get out of this city right away, since I'm sure many others are looking for us—people sent by the Guild and people sent by your father. Thankfully I remember the intricate route through this labyrinth, in which I plan to take us to a cave located a mile north outside the city walls. So please climb on my back...okay?"

"Okay," she said before she did.

Because he had just feasted on a human, he could run at sixty mph. However, because Brishava rode piggyback and he didn't want her to get hurt, he kept his speed down to ten mph while traversing through more than four dozen tunnels. Therefore, it took about forty-five minutes for them to reach the cave before they exited and proceeded north along the coastline. The top speed Baltor ran outside was fifteen mph because he realized it would seem far too suspicious to Brishava if he went any faster than that.

Five hours later, which was about a half-hour before sunrise, he located another cave about eighty-six miles north of the city, and this cave is where they made camp for the day.

## CHAPTER XXI

When Baltor awoke the next night, he noticed that Brishava was no longer next to him or nearby—his eyes followed her tracks, soon observing that her last set of footsteps led outside and to the left.

After sheathing his sword and exiting the cave, he came to discover that she stood about four hundred feet away to the west on the sandy beach. She looked westward across the Sea of Albusina, presumably having just watched the sun set below the waters.

A split-second later, he stood right behind her just before wrapping his arms loosely around her waist and nuzzling his chin into her neck. Her dainty hands came to rest on his muscular forearms.

He whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She said aloud, "Yes. I'm better than okay, my love."

Neither person said a word for the next minute or so as they stared deep into the ever-darkening sea and sky.

Finally, he dared to ask, "Are you sure you don't want to go back home?"

She turned around to face him before placing both of her hands upon his waist. After studying his face for a few moments, she asked, "And take a chance at losing you?"

His answer to that question was not with words, but actions; he placed his hands upon her waist while staring at her eye-to-eye.

Several moments passed before she sighed, smiled, and then declared, "Never will I lose you. I already love you so much!"

"How can you love me so much when I don't even love myself?"

She gently began caressing his cheek with one hand while saying, "The only thing that I know is that the first time I saw you in my dreams when a little girl, I fell in love. And now that my dreams have come true, my greatest fear is that I will wake up and find out that all this was only a dream."

From her comment, or maybe it was her touch, or maybe both, he did not know, but he found himself chuckling.

Even though her hand continued caressing his cheek, she did ask, "Why are you laughing, mister?"

He chuckled a few more times before shrugging his shoulders and answering, "I don't know, missy."

She placed her hand back upon his waist while replying, "I do."

He stopped laughing to ask, "Oh yeah? Why?"

"Two reasons. One, you're happy. And two, you love me!"

Once realization hit nearly right away, he pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side for a second before confessing, "Yes, you're right. I am happy, very happy, and I do love you. Moreover, I am in love with you, and I want to marry you tonight! Will you marry me?"

Instead of answering "the big question," she asked the question looming in her mind, "But where can we go to find someone who will marry us tonight?"

"Good question," he answered. He turned his head to the right and left while scanning the horizon, yet no answers formed, internal or external. "I don't know."

She hugged him tight before whispering in his ear, "Yes, I will marry you. Now I have an idea of someone who can marry us."

He whispered back, "Who?"

"Before I tell you who, I need first to know something about you. Do you believe in God?"

With scrunched-up eyes, he pulled back from the hug so that he could view her entire face. He then asked, "What kind of a question is that?"

"Just answer it, please," she said in kind while looking back.

"I... I have never met God; if that's what you mean. But I do believe that it takes intelligence to create intelligence."

"So, is that a yes?"

"Yes," he answered, although he had no clue as to where her line of questioning was leading.

She gave him a light kiss on his lips before saying, "I don't know that any of us have met God, but I choose to believe that He exists. It is also in my beliefs that God started the scenario of this universe, and that He is watching to see what we do with it—for good or for evil—while always hoping for the good."

He listened attentively to her every word. Despite her particular religious beliefs, and despite the common knowledge that her grandfather had been the one to ban all religions in the empire, he still did not understand where this was leading, so in silence, he waited for her to finish.

Her gaze dropped down to his powerful chest, and her little hand soon followed where she commenced drawing little imaginary circles there. A few moments passed before she looked back up and saying, "Maybe it'll take us many days, months, or even years before we can find a Justice of the Peace who will dare to certify our marriage. So with vows that stem from our hearts, minds, and souls, why don't we marry ourselves before God, right now?" With her piercing brown eyes, she looked back up at his face, sucked in a deep breath, and waited for an answer.

He sucked in his own deep breath before asking skeptically, "We can do this, ourselves?"

While raising her eyebrows to their highest peaks, she answered confidently, "Yes. Later down the road, we can have a formal wedding that is best suited for the heir and the heiress to the Sharia Empire!"

He cocked his head slightly to the right in confusion before asking, "Right here—right now?"

"Only if that's what you want."

All the while smiling, he declared, "I do—I really, really do!"

"Me, too!"

In unison, they released their hold of each other, although they continued to face each other and smile. Still, even though the temperatures were warm, he could feel goose bumps running up and down his legs!

A few seconds had passed before she began to declare, "I, Brishava Helenus, do love you, Baltor, with all of my heart, mind, and soul." She lifted her arms up toward the heavens, and with growing excitement, she added, "I declare unto this world, unto this universe, and most especially unto God—from this day forth, and until eternity's end, I shall always be your loyal and loving wife!"

He took from her impending silence that it was his turn, and so he swore, "I, Baltor Elysian, do love you, Princess Brishava Helenus, with all of my heart, mind, and soul." Following suit with her physical gestures, he added, "I declare unto this world, unto this universe, and most especially unto God—from this day forth and until eternity ends, I shall always be your loyal and loving husband!"

The two, on cue, joined hands.

She said right away, "I also promise that I shall be supportive of whatever decisions that you make, in the present, and in the future, my husband..."

A couple of seconds passed before he responded, "I also promise that I shall be supportive of whatever decisions that you make, in the present, and in the future, my wife..."

"I swear that I have always loved you since you first became the man of my dreams long ago! And that I will always love you until my last breath," she replied.

He chuckled a few times before saying, "Even though I never had the privilege of getting to dream about you, I think that the reason for this is because you are way beyond my wildest dreams! Yet I swear I shall always love you until my last breath!"

"Really?"

He answered without any doubt, "Really."

After a couple of moments had passed, she asked with a soft tender voice, "Well? Aren't you going to kiss your bride, Lord Elysian?"

He dutifully responded, "With pleasure, Lady Elysian."

A gentle kiss began between the two, and only moments later, the winds of the sea picked up to twenty mph as if to confirm their mystical marriage ceremony. In turn, their long strands of hair flew up into the air and even intertwined.

Once they had completed their "magical kiss" about a half-minute later, in which their hair settled back down due to the winds that simultaneously dissipated, she then asked, "Aren't you going to carry me inside our honeymoon suite, my husband?"

"Yes, my wife," he answered. He picked up his wife and carried her back into the cave—the newlyweds filled up the rest of the night with incredible and wonderful passions far beyond what words can describe....

## CHAPTER XXII

The following night right after sunset, Baltor woke up but did not move his body (other than opening his eyes) because his brand-new bride slept with her body pressed up against his.

While lying there and staring at the stalactites hanging down from the ceiling, he thought, _So where in the world are Brishava and I going to live next, and safely out of the way? Obviously, the Sultan is going to be sending bounty hunters to at least every major city and town in the world in search of her until she is safe and sound at home. So what are my other options? What about Valakan or Chao-chu-sha-maen? Hmmm!_

Well, I know for sure that we would both love to live in the beautiful and serene mountains of Valakan...but I also have a strong feeling that bounty hunters will inevitably find this village, so Valakan is out. I guess this leaves Chao-chu-sha-maen as the only viable option, considering foreigners haven't ever discovered this community as it sits hidden in the middle of a vast jungle. I really doubt anybody from the Guild will even consider the possibility that I would dare go back to cannibal-infested territory—not even Humonus.

Well, there we go...we now have our destination. Now, I need to figure out the best route. Yes, it would save us a hell of a lot of time to go east straight through the Sharia Desert, but we have no transportation, no water, no food other than what I hunt down, no supplies, and probably next-to-nil caves for us to sleep in through the day. Traveling through the desert would be suicide for both of us!

At this point, he recalled from his geographical studies and the world-map that the Sea of Albusina continued northbound for a little over a hundred miles. There, the Bospa Mountains butted up with the desert at this point, going east and west; to the west beyond the continent's landmass ended were a bunch of mountainous islands. Perhaps sixty miles northwest of where the mountains began on the mainland, there sat Lasparus, a seaport that belonged to the Sultan; he and his wife would need to avoid this area at all costs.

Thus, the best route he surmised was to keep heading north alongside the coastline until they reach the mountains, find the first eastbound valley, make their way that direction through the mountains, enter the jungles going a southeastern direction, and ultimately arrive at Chao-chu-sha-maen.

Once she had woken up of her own accord about ten minutes later, he suggested his plan to which she agreed right away. He then hunted down some food—a small brown-feathered bird that had wings yet couldn't fly—and cooked it for her in a spit over the fire, which took about an hour—they departed right after dinner.

Due to this being the third day since having feasted on a human, his top speed was fifteen mph, so he had her ride piggyback as he ran north at full speed. Throughout this night, he had to take pit stops about seven times so she could stretch her legs out or relieve herself—but never had he become tired or out of breath. At the same time, he was grateful that she never asked a single question about his inhuman speed or endurance.

Perhaps an hour before sunrise, in which they had traveled ninety-two miles, they discovered the first cave since the one they had stayed at the previous night. After he had hunted down a couple of crabs and cooked them up right outside the cave, she ate. This cave is where they camped at for the day.

That night, after fishing and cooking a perch dinner for Brishava, they continued north.

Throughout this night as he ran, he talked about his youth and his ancestors' sword. This included the tragedy that befell his parents because of that same sword and his subsequent destitution. He spoke of the day he had run across Lydia, the Guild, Humonus, and all his training. Of course, he told quite a bit about what happened to him on his quest, including running across the cannibals and finding the world map, but never did he talk about the Rod of Ro'shain, or Trendon Harrn, or the fact that he was a vampire.

Her love for him only flourished from his words. In turn, she talked about her youth; and the fact that only four months prior, her father had involuntarily engaged her to wed the Duke of Vispano, who she said was only younger than her dad by nine years—almost three times her age.

These two men had concocted the grandiose plan to unite the two powerful kingdoms into one super-powerful nation via the marriage ceremony, so that they could conquer the rest of the continent. Following a week-long honeymoon spent between bride and groom, all of the leaders would march/sail their armies and navy, approximately 110,000 forces, down the coastline to Mauritia, and not only easily conquer this city, but the entire Vaspan Empire. However, now that she had run away and eloped, this plan wouldn't ever happen.

Though she mentioned many hobbies she liked to do such as embroidery, archery, and arts and crafts of all types, she said that her favorite hobby was riding on horses, equestrian style. From all of her precious words, he found himself falling in love with her more and more.

Once they had entered the tree-filled mountains an hour and a half later, they found the first valley that went east before heading that direction.

Three more nights passed without any encounters with people or predatory creatures; but on the fourth night, when he awoke, he noticed that his wife had left the cave once more.

After sheathing his sword, he followed her footsteps northbound for about eighty feet, perceiving that the tracks had stopped at a bush filled with ripened raspberries. He also saw several other horse tracks that had come in from the north. From the looks of it, she tried to escape, but one of the horse's riders had grabbed her and thrown her onto the horse about a dozen steps away from the bush.

Upon realizing that someone had kidnapped his wife, rage immediately set in!

He ran while following the horse tracks that went back northbound, yet found at the next valley about three hundred feet ahead that they ended on a gravel road. Unfortunate for him, he could find no signs of which direction they had gone on this road that went east and west, and was just wide enough for a large animal like an elephant to walk on it.

He stopped running upon reaching the middle of the road, at which point he looked both ways while contemplating the possibilities. He could only assume that going west would take him to the city of Lasparus, though he had not a clue as to where going east would end up, as this road did not exist on the world-map.

He then tried to rationalize who her captors could be, which he hoped might give him a hint which way to go. _Was it the Sultan's troops or bounty hunters who got my wife? If yes, then there's a one hundred percent chance that they'd take her to Lasparus so that they could send her home on the fastest ship. However, if it was another group of bastards like slavers, then there's a fifty-fifty chance they'd go west, right? Sure...so statistically speaking, I have a seventy-five percent chance of finding her by going west...hopefully this road doesn't split up into a bunch of different directions. No more negative thoughts, Baltor--let me find my wife! Now._

He ran west as fast as he could. After traveling eight miles, the road started veering northwest, which slightly elevated his hopes that it led to Lasparus.

About an hour before morning, he spotted a cave to rest, and that is where he slept without incident.

The next night, he continued his journey. Though hunger had set in, his love for his wife prevailed, and so he ignored his hunger pains to the best of his ability. The only times he had stopped were during the daylight hours or when he found small game nearby to satiate him temporarily.

Three more nights passed until he finally observed the lights of Lasparus several miles ahead at about three in the morning, in which he did not run into a single person the entire time on this road that had never split up. All the while, he contemplated on the possible locations Brishava could be in this city; that is unless she had already been shipped to Pavelus, or her captors had gone east on the road.

The best solution he came up with no matter whether she was there or not...infiltrate Lasparus, find and kill a "vermin" to reacquire his vampire abilities, and locate the palace. Once there, he would use his superpowers to find her, assuming that she was still there. If not, he didn't know what to do, as it seemed that the monster always took over anyway...

"Fortune" indeed smiled upon arriving within two hundred feet of the one-hundred-foot-tall city walls, as he discovered a platoon of guards patrolling in single file around the southern wall. Utilizing all of his skills, he noiselessly knocked out the last guard, of whom he suspected was "vermin"—none of the other guards noticed as they continued marching away.

Baltor wasted no time dragging the man's unconscious body into a large group of bushes, biting into his neck, and drinking. He quickly came to find out this man's name was Vushna, in which this man was dumber than dumb—only things he knew about were farming and soldiering, in which he had been a guard for the last two years. Only a year ago, Vushna had murdered another man in cold-blood in an alleyway because he had lost fair-and-square in a card game but got angry about it, which proved to Baltor that this man was vermin.

As soon as he pulled his lips back from the man's neck, he felt monstrously powerful—this time, he had the power to remain in human form and to think!

After concealing the body in the bushes, with the speed of shadow, he ran toward the wall and leaped over to the other side!

A man and a young girl happened to see him land in the middle of the street, only a dozen feet in front of the same direction they walked.

The man stood protectively in front the young girl before pleading, "Please leave—leave my daughter and me alone! We have no money if that's what you want!"

Baltor waved his hand from side-to-side one time before replying, "I do not want your money or anything else from you. Say nothing of what you just saw for I am a phantom of your imagination. Go about your business."

The man answered right away, nervously, "Ok. Jonish, come with me."

"Yes, Popa," the girl said with fright. They departed away at a rather brisk pace.

As Baltor watched them disappear around the corner, he wondered for a moment if he might ever be a father one day. However, the present moment hit him, and he realized that he must find his wife or there won't ever be kids in the future.

He combed out the seaport moving at the speed of shadow; in twenty minutes times, he located the property walls of the main palace. After waiting for the right time when no guards were around, he leaped to the top of the sixty-foot walls, and while standing on top of the wall, he looked over to the other side.

There, he observed a grand two-story palace with luscious gardens surrounding it, but the magnificence of this palace couldn't compare to the Sultan's palace in Pavelus. With but a willed thought, he flew above and across all of the guards until landing on the deck of a balcony on the top floor.

After quickly examining the interior of this room from the balcony, he noticed that this wasn't a bedroom, but rather, a huge royal banquet hall, containing more than two-dozen elongated tables that were all covered by red tablecloths interwoven with golden threads. Sitting around all of the tables were gold chairs that had red velvet cushions upon the seats and backrests; hanging from the ceiling were more than a dozen gold chandeliers that filled the cozy room with light to see.

All but one table was empty of people—the one in the middle. Here sat a group of ten nobles, six men, and four women, all sipping on alcoholic beverages while socializing. Except for two guards who stood by a set of large gold doors at the far end about fifty feet away from Baltor's current position, the rest of the room was empty.

Without fear or caution, he walked straight in, and boldly called out, "Any of you happen to know where Princess Brishava is?"

Hearing that question, the group of people all looked toward the direction of the voice—with a lot of surprise and shock. However, none of the guards had heard or seen Baltor, even now where he stood in front of them all.

A man—old, bald, obese, and dressed in regal purple garments—stood up and asked, "Who—who in the hell are you?" He sounded buzzed.

"It doesn't matter who I am. What is important is the answer to my question. Any of you know where she is?"

The same man answered, "To answer your question, no one knows where the Princess is, as the report arrived but today that someone kidnapped her and there is a substantial reward of a million parsecs for her safe return... Why—do you know where my betrothed is? Or should I say was? Now you will answer my question, as I am the Duke of Vispano!" He screamed out his final statement.

Baltor did not respond but turned around to exit the palace the same way he had arrived—the balcony.

The Duke instantaneously began to run in that same direction as fast as his fat old body possibly could while screaming, "Guards! Intruder! Get him and bring him before me!"

Before the guards could even react, Baltor had already flown across the grounds and over the entire height of the wall. As he proceeded to fly out of the seaport, he could hear troops alerting other troops, but he was already long gone.

In fact, with his vampire speed, it took him less than a minute to depart the perimeter of the seaport and travel the southeastern road, although he saw two more roads. One went north and the other northeast.

He flew back to the cave where he and his wife had last resided, so he could rationalize his thoughts to try to figure out her location. However, since there were only a couple hours left before the sun would rise over the eastern horizon, this is where he decided to camp.

As he sat still in the dark and lonely cave, his frustrations increasingly began to get worse while contemplating his beloved, especially for the fact that her kidnappers could have gone any direction at all and he was receiving no clues, despite all his superpowers.

About thirty minutes later, his agonies exploded into a fit of rage as he screamed, "Trendon Harrn! It is I, Baltor! Come to me! Look at what you've made me! A worthless creature by day, and a powerful creature at night, but only when I've feasted on a human being! I could not even protect my wife when she needed me the most! Come to me, damn you! You told me that when the time was right, I would know when, where, and how to find—"

He stopped in mid-sentence, as he saw a brilliant light pop up in the middle of the air—the size of a tiny dot!

This time, however, his mind realized with surprise that his eyes could handle the intensity of the light as the portal opened up to its full size—not unlike the sun whose indirect rays hurt Baltor's eyes. Without so much as a squint, he watched Trendon step through it.

Once the portal had closed a second later, Trendon sounded sympathetic as he said, "Well there, young one, it appears that you have quite a dilemma on your hands now, doesn't it?"

Baltor screamed with actual bloody tears pouring out from his eyes, "Yes, I do!"

Trendon extended his arms straight in front of him before slowly lowering them until they were by his sides. He then said, "Shush there, young one, and listen carefully."

He pointed one finger in the air. After shaking it from side to side one time, he said, "Baltor, I am going to assist you this one time, and that's it. Next time, you can cry, beg, rant, or scream all you want, but you will entirely be on your own. I will not help you again until I am one hundred percent sure that you are ready to begin your training with me. Do you understand me? One time only."

Baltor nodded, almost in shame.

After a nod, Trendon said, "Good. Several members of a large caravan found and kidnapped your Princess while foraging for food, in which they had departed Lasparus only the day prior and were heading east; there are fifty-eight of them to be exact. What this caravan does is to travel from town to town, kidnap young and attractive girls, and then sell them off to the highest bidders down the road—basically, your run-of-the-mill slave traders...

"It is quite fortunate for you that wanted posters only reached Lasparus today instead of two days ago, or they would have altered their route back for Lasparus to claim the substantial reward and give her to the authorities, who in turn would have shipped her home for Pavelus and the Sultan. As I speak, they are camped about two-hundred-and-fifty miles southeast of us within the desert, in which they have just woken up to prepare for their journey today...everyday they travel about sixty miles. Their next destination is Mauritia...

"Tomorrow night, take the road east. You shall soon find that it veers off into two different directions, one going northeast and the other going south. Take the southern route; it shall lead you straight into the Sharia—"

Sounding like a whiny child, Baltor interrupted, "But—but how am I supposed to find her in the middle of such an enormous desert that's probably at least a hundred thousand square miles?"

Trendon shook his head and sighed, as he had been about to forthright reveal that answer. Instead, the cryptic bit of advice that Trendon had received nearly ten thousand years ago and now delivered to Baltor was, "Will it and you shall."

Baltor's eyebrows furled just before he asked angrily, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Trendon, with a snap of a finger, disappeared into oblivion.

Although alone in the dark, Baltor could feel that the sun had arisen in the next second, and he fell asleep right away.

## CHAPTER XXIII

Just after Baltor had awoken after sunset, he got up and walked toward the mouth of the cave. For some unknown reason, he decided to turn around and look around one final time. For the first time, he noticed with quite a bit of surprise that his wife had left her backpack in the far right corner.

He walked over, picked it up, donned it, exited the cave, and then began to trek eastward with that speed of thirty mph. As he shot through the night, he also began to think long and hard.

He first realized that the way he behaved last night toward Trendon was rather childish, and he still felt sorry for it. He next began to think about his newlywed wife, and of the immense amount of love that he already had for her, and that anyone else probably would have reacted the same way.

Yet the more that he meditated, the feelings and memories of his past victims also began to surge through his consciousness. He saw and felt the relationships and twisted love affairs of Salmot, Big Bear, Briggs, Lydia, and of course, Vushna.

Although each person had his or her unique share of tragedies when it came to losing loved ones, each had particular ways, some were bad, and some were good when it came to dealing with their losses.

He spoke aloud his rational conclusion, "Yes, I did act rather immature. But that was not an unusual response from my part, either, especially given my history."

By the time he had finished speaking, he had just entered the perimeter of the desert and could tell that the skies were beginning to lighten. He pushed on for another fifty minutes before sunrise, dug a six-foot-deep hole, buried himself in that sand, and fell asleep.

The following night, after he had pulled himself out of the ground, he looked around while asking aloud, "Now how am I going to 'will it and it shall'?"

Because an idea popped into his head only then, he closed his eyes before recalling the world map. In his mind's eye, he focused upon the boundaries of the entire Sharia Desert—once he had that image, he shifted his focus upon the image of Brishava.

A few seconds passed before her image formed, in which she sat inside a large cage with a dozen other women—the lights in the sky were even darker than where he was.

He next saw a pair of horses, one black and one white, pulling that cage at a decent pace through the desert—two men sat outside this cage in the front on a pillow-covered bench; the man who didn't steer stood out due to his head-to-toe outfit that was bright red. Several moments had passed before he counted out fifty-six additional men who rode on horses; half led the way in front of the cage while the other half followed.

Still in the parameters of Baltor's mind, he made this entire image of the caravan begin to shrink until it became the size of a tiny dot on the world map—by now, they were one-quarter the way through the desert, and still going southeast. At this point, he realized that they were about a week away from reaching the Bospa Mountains, and one hundred and eighty miles away from him.

Excited he knew her location, he wasted no time opening his eyes and beginning to run that direction!

While traveling, he began to meditate more. His thoughts reminisced back to the time when he had first met this Trendon Harrn, if that was really his name.

Specifically to the point in the conversation when Trendon had said, "As I have already explained, you must use your wit and resources to help you overcome all your weaknesses, and upon every level—even with your survival instincts to feast upon human blood! Even in the beginning, be selective by removing only the human vermin from the earth and feasting upon the blood of your enemies.

"Ultimately, to understand the future, one must also learn from the past; in the same way, to determine what absolute good means, one must also comprehend absolute evil. If that's not enough of a hint, then let me put it in a way you will understand—in order to beat your enemy, you must first become your enemy!

"And since we're now talking about you, young one, let me confirm that many obstacles in your past prevent you from clearly seeing the potentials for your future! But, the signs are also clearly there..."

Once that memory had dissipated, Baltor asked aloud, "What parts of my past are preventing me from seeing the future?"

Although he received no concrete answers, his thoughts came to dwell upon his days of youth before his parents' murders, specifically to the time when his Uncle Baltor had visited and relayed one of his exciting bedtime tales.

This story revolved around a particular sea hero named Captain Percos. In it, a starving giant sea serpent erupts from the bosoms of the sea, swims to a nearby river, locates a nearby village, and slowly begins to stalk and eat the villagers at night and on land. The villagers, in response, send a fifty-man hunting expedition to kill the serpent, but Percos—a twenty-year-old man—becomes the sole survivor, as the surprisingly intelligent snake takes out the rest of them, one by one. During the first of many battles between Percos and the serpent, he luckily manages to thrust his spear deep into one of the creature's eyes, at which point it retreats to the river and then to the sea. Percos does not let it get away, but steals a rowboat and follows the serpent back out sea!

"The eleven seas" is what this adventure inevitably becomes, as Percos chases the beast all across the world; all the while, he visits and learns about other towns, cities, nations, and cultures. Along the way, he even earns a galleon-class warship, a crew of four hundred men, and the official rank of captain. With this ship and the whale-hunting equipment, Percos ultimately destroys the sea serpent—after a ferocious and bloody battle—and thus, the end of the story!

Following this tale's conclusion, Uncle Baltor gave his nephew a little hug while saying, "Good night, my nephew...sweet dreams."

The nephew replied, "Good night, my uncle," before falling asleep.

Baltor's thoughts next came to focus on the following morning when eating breakfast with his parents while noticing his uncle wasn't anywhere around, and so he asked aloud, "Where's Uncle Baltor?"

After swallowing the food in her mouth, his mother answered, "He left in the wee morning hours, and won't be back for some time. His lieutenant arrived right after you fell asleep, delivering the news and the charter that their ship needed to send a boatload of silks to the city of Tunisan right away. Though your uncle didn't tell your father or me any numbers, he did say that all the money they would make for doing this charter was way too good to pass up. Before he left, he specifically told me to assure you that he loves you a lot."

Because Baltor's father saw the look of disappointment still on his son's face, he added, "He'll be back, sooner or later, son. After all, he found us here in the first place, and has visited several times since we moved here."

"Okay," Baltor responded. His face abruptly transformed to excitement just before he said, "Last night, Uncle Baltor told me a really awesome story about a man named Captain Percos...when I grow up, I want to be just like him...a hero!"

Instead of getting the congratulatory reply he expected, he watched as his father began jabbing his index finger toward the boy while declaring with irritation, "There are no sea-serpents; there are no heroes; there is only reality. You and your uncle both need to get your head out of the clouds, especially you. We have a lot of work to do around here...for real!"

"Yes, Popa..."

That memory faded just as an even earlier memory surfaced, occurring the day after Baltor's seventh birthday: once more he sat at the table with his parents, but this time, the food consisted of pork chops, rice, and some green mushy vegetable.

Shortly after they started eating, his mother said with joy, "I so love my baby boy! Honey, is there any way we can postpone having Baltor start working for you at the shop until next year, instead of tomorrow?" Her voice abruptly transformed into worry before adding, "I'm already afraid I'm going to be so lonely and depressed without having him around me all the time. I have no friends around here...only you two. Remember that you're the one who said I couldn't have any friends."

His father sighed before replying, "No, honey...there isn't. I desperately need his help around the shop, especially since Jae decided not to show up to work for the third day in a row...from now on, I need someone I can train and trust to work for me, instead of these losers off the street. And you, you need to quit babying him!"

"Well, how come am I not getting pregnant, honey? I know we've been trying so hard since Baltor was born but to no avail! And though I said nothing before to you about this, Baltor's already told me on numerous occasions that he would love to have a baby brother or sister."

At that, the boy exclaimed, "Yeah! Then I will have someone to play with!"

His father released a deep sigh of exasperation before saying, "You said it yourself...we've been trying so hard but to no avail. Now, I don't know what to tell you, except to say, sorry! Oh, and to say, Baltor is working for me starting tomorrow, and that is my final word."

Not surprisingly, his mother ran off toward her room, now crying.

His father, apparently the winner, looked over at his son and pronounced, "Baltor, I know that it's time that you become a man, even though your mother sees otherwise. You must trust me on this. One day, you'll be thanking me for it."

That memory faded just as another surfaced—a far earlier memory. It occurred when Baltor was about three years old, apparently too young to remember anything at this stage in life...until now. He was sitting in his mother's lap, while they lounged on the hammock hanging under the front porch.

Still, he listened as she spoke, "My little baby boy, Baltor! I know that I should probably let you do things more on your own, but I love having you by my side. Your father works so very hard and long to keep us alive, but I've always had a huge problem with loneliness ever since I was a little girl...yet I've never figured out why my depression gets so severe."

She sighed before adding, "I know you'll never remember what I'm about to tell you as you're far too young, but I'm going to say it anyway. Your father and I aren't from anywhere around here in Pavelus, but from a city far, far away named Politesse. Unfortunate and unbeknownst to us when we met, my family and his family have been involved in a 'bloody family feud' with each other for nearly two centuries...yet one fateful day, I had the opportunity to meet your father in the supermarket, in which we both had gone there alone. I knew from the very first second that he was the man for me...and he knew right away I was the woman for him—both of our worlds literally spun around upon eye-to-eye contact...

"Of course, once everything returned to normal, he sounded suave after approaching me and introducing his first name to me, Tank. I, on the other hand, was shy while saying my first name. He asked me if he could take me for a picnic, and of course, I agreed, at which point he purchased all the food we needed before we exited the city and entered a beautiful forest nearby...

"There, we shared a lovely picnic, talked, fell in love, and decided to marry...yes; it happened that fast. When I asked him for his last name shortly after, and he told me, I grew scared because of the family feud—so I told him my last name. He said verbatim, 'Not too worry, beautiful, but we must run away right away and elope... Trust me that I have enough money saved up in my bank account from working as a blacksmith for my father, so we can charter a boat to another city and start up a brand-new life...how about Pavelus?'"

She sucked in a deep breath before saying, "I told him okay, so long as I could tell my brother, your Uncle Baltor, who I trust where we were going...he agreed. Only a year after our arrival in Pavelus, you were born, and your uncle found us two years later. This is why I need you by my side because other than my brother, your father, and you, I'm alone...I love you!"

The adult-Baltor heard the toddler-Baltor say back, "I love you, Moma!"

That memory dissipated, but when another memory did not surface, the twenty-one-year-old Baltor thought, _So_ _w_ _h_ _a_ _t in the world_ _d_ _o_ _th_ _e_ _se_ _m_ _e_ _m_ _o_ _r_ _i_ _e_ _s_ _m_ _e_ _a_ _n_ _?_

When no answers came from the heavens, he rationalized aloud, "Perhaps these memories are the reasons that prevent me from seeing the future...somehow. Perhaps there's something far more than meets the eye if I try to read between the lines of my history?"

Just then, his eyes spotted a single column of lights moving on top of the dunes against the southern horizon, moving west to east—he altered his direction for this caravan.

About a half-minute later, he counted out twenty-three people riding on camels; twenty-two rode on camels while the man in the rear steered a beautiful black mighty warhorse. Disappointment hit Baltor upon not seeing a horse-drawn cage filled with slave women, in particular, his wife—even more disappointment hit him when he couldn't sense any villains in this group to appease his thirst for blood!

He stopped in place at the bottom in between two large hills, to stay "out of sight" as he weighed his options, regarding this caravan, and especially that horse that he could use. Not that he minded running non-stop at an incredible pace while never getting tired, yet horses ran at least twenty miles faster than he could, except when he had his superpowers...and his wife could use the horse once he rescued her.

Unfortunately, he had no money on him to purchase it, and even though he knew he could easily steal it, he refused to compromise his honor. He also knew that the only possession worthy-of-trade was his grandfather's sword—though it was incredibly valuable to him, yet so was his wife, Brishava!

Once he had made his final decision, he ran to the top of the dune before yelling out, "Hey—hey guys!" His voice echoed across the skies.

Without any delay, he began to jog toward them. Within moments, they had already formed a complete circle with each member facing outside of the perimeter, apparently a defensive position.

Upon standing only one dune away from them, Baltor held up both of his hands in a symbolic gesture of peace before calling out, "I am alone, and I mean you no harm."

Despite this assurance, the caravan remained in their defensive position; a woman who wore robes, as well a hat with an attached veil that covered her entire face, called out, "What do you want?"

"Listen, I would like to purchase that horse you've got, and trust me, I have a treasure that is five times more valuable than that horse."

Sounding incredulous, that same woman asked, "What could you possibly have in exchange for my prized warhorse? This horse is a pure breed and could easily go for eighteen thousand parsecs."

"I have this—" He stopped speaking three-quarters of the sentence right before he said the word "sword." During that moment he stopped talking, his mind only then remembered his wife's backpack on his back, in which his mind also pondered the possibility that she might have something valuable in it. Therefore, he said, "Hold on a minute, please."

"Okay," the woman responded.

He pulled the backpack off, opened it up, and looked in. His hand pushed aside a bunch of clothes stuffed inside before angling it so that he could see at the bottom.

What he saw made his mouth drop open in shock—besides a bunch of small-to-mid-sized precious stones, two large diamonds sat inside, in which the largest was a princess-cut the size of an apple!

He pulled out the bigger diamond before saying, "I have this diamond here, which I'm guessing is worth more than five times the asking price, maybe even six. May I come closer?"

Hearing the word "diamond" more than any other word, the woman responded, "Yes, but cautiously. And don't try to do anything stupid, or you'll find yourself dead before you can even blink an eye. My archers have arrows locked on you already."

"Okay," he said before walking toward her. Once about ten feet away from her, inside the perimeter of several of the torchlights, he stopped walking before pulling out the largest diamond and holding it up to the light.

The woman couldn't help but see the prismatic bright reflections cast from this diamond, and the value!

Though he could not see her facial expression because of the veil, he heard her gasp, "Oooh... Let me check it out first, to make sure it's not a fake."

With a wave of his hand toward the diamond, Baltor said, "By all means."

After the woman had climbed off her camel, she handed the reins to another caravan member. Still holding a torch, she drew nearer.

The woman took the diamond in both hands, examined it for a moment against the light, and said, "Give me some glass, Bonsu."

Bonsu gave her a small square piece of transparent glass, after retrieving it from the sidesaddle of his camel. She set the glass onto the ground, stabbed the unlit end of the torch into the sand, held the diamond in both hands, and then drew a circle upon the glass.

After giving the jewel back to Baltor, she picked one end of the glass off the ground, and then tapped the center of the glass one time—this caused the circle to pop out and drop to the ground. She immediately declared with excitement, "Deal!"

Baltor nodded his head in relief before handing it over. He then glanced up into the skies briefly, noticing that they were beginning to lighten up; at the same time, his mind considered that he would need to care for his horse during the day, somehow, with food and water.

The woman had already mounted her camel before saying, "Opsam, give the horse to the man, please. You can ride with me on my camel."

Without a word spoken, Opsam dismounted the horse near Baltor, handed over the reins, and mounted the woman's camel until sitting right behind her.

"Listen," Baltor said, "the day is nearly upon us, and I have no food or water to care for my horse or me. Is there any way that you guys can hook me up, especially with that huge diamond I just gave you?"

"What else do you have to barter?" the woman asked.

"Hey—that diamond is worth five of these horses, and you're going to ask for more?"

"Well I guess you're right, but a deal is a deal, and that deal is done. Pity, without water, neither you nor the horse will be alive by tonight. I heard that through these blistering deserts, people could only survive for about ten hours without water."

Baltor sighed before pulling out a ruby the size of a plum, handing it over, and saying, "Fine...how about this for a week's worth of water?"

"Deal—we'll even graciously give you a water bowl for your horse."

Opsam set two sets of large water leather bags—tied shut at the ends—across the horse's back. At the same time, Bonsu handed Baltor a large bowl made of wood.

"Anything else we can do for you?" the woman suggested. "Maybe some food for both you and your horse?"

"True," he replied while lightly slapping his head because he had forgotten to mention the food part as well. After pulling out a slightly smaller sapphire and holding it out, he asked, "Do you have fresh food to sell, perhaps?"

The woman shook her head a couple of times before answering, "No—we currently carry only dried rations and hay, as we sold all our other goodies. Currently, we're en route to Pavelus for more."

"That's fine," he replied. "A week's worth of both."

The woman exclaimed, "Deal!"

After handing her the sapphire, he watched as two different men each tied a large bag onto each side of his new horse's saddle. Inwardly, Baltor began to wonder whether this animal would be able to move swiftly with all of the added weight on it, not to mention his own.

The woman appeared to recognize the dubious look on Baltor's face, for she said, "Oh...you got a good deal, don't you worry—this is the most powerful and fastest warhorse my eyes ever witnessed! Took six men in a row to tame her; I kid you not, as I watched this spectacle with my very own eyes. And despite her immense size, she's been clocked at running forty mph!"

Although he heard every word she said, he also recognized that the skies had turned another lighter shade of blue. Still, he took an extra minute to examine his new purchase; indeed, this warhorse's legs were twice the size that he had ever seen on any other horse, and she stood at seven feet tall.

He turned back toward the woman with an appreciative smile, and to say "thank you"—but he noticed that they had already begun to continue on their journey.

After putting the bowl into the right saddlebag, he climbed into the saddle, grabbed the reins, and spurred her on. He decided—in the next moment—that he would name the horse after his mother, "Grasha."

He wasted no time snapping her reins while kicking his feet into the stirrups repetitiously, which in turn, caused her to pick up a speed that was breathtaking!

Perhaps a minute passed before he had regained control over his emotions enough to look toward the eastern sky—the sun would be rising within fifteen minutes. He purposefully slowed her down until at a trot: five minutes later, he pulled back on the reins until she halted.

After hopping down to the ground, he pulled out the bowl, put it under the tap at the base of the water bag, filled it up to the rim, and set it on the ground in front of his horse. She began to drink.

It took her a minute to consume only a quarter of the bowl, in which she lifted her head to its normal position before looking around. Realizing she was done drinking, he refilled it to the rim and again set it before Grasha. He next pulled out two large chunks of hay, laying it all down on the ground.

With only seconds remaining before the sun rose, Baltor dug as fast as he could into the loose sands while holding the reins in his clenched right hand.

Upon sunrise, he fell asleep.

## CHAPTER XXIV

The moment the sun had left the sky, Baltor returned to consciousness. Even though he could see and hear absolutely nothing because the desert sands still buried him from head-to-toe, he did experience a minute amount of relief upon feeling the leather reins in his hand.

However, that relief lasted for only a single moment, as three serious concerns crossed his mind. One, his warhorse might not have had enough food or water to survive the long and scorching desert day. Two, someone might have seen Grasha, cut the reins, and stolen her. Three, a ferocious sandstorm might have randomly come along and killed her.

None of these possibilities would prove very fortunate at all, which is why he worried—he commenced to digging up toward the surface.

As soon as his head and neck had cleared the sandy ground, he vigorously shook his head to clear away most of the sand.

Once so, he stopped shaking around and opened his eyes. Not two feet away stood Grasha, chewing on the last bit of hay that he had left out. Dry sand, however, filled her water bowl.

"How ya doin', Grasha?"

Because some sand had crept into his mouth as he spoke, he had no choice but to spit it out, and then to spit out the new sand that entered his mouth while he spat.

Meanwhile, she threw her head back with irritation, coupled with the sounds that came along with the looks.

After spitting another time, he replied, "I know you're thirsty, Grasha. Before you know it, you'll be drinking some delicious water, okay, girl?"

She made a _H_ _hhhr_ _r_ _rr_ _mmmm_ _pppphh_ _h_ _hh_ sound.

By this time, he had freed himself of the sandpit, standing on solid ground. He then walked several feet farther away from his horse before shaking his body around vigorously to get as much sand off as possible, without getting any on her.

After clapping his hands together several times, he used his dusted off hands to wipe off the remaining particles of sand that still clung to his ears, face, neck, as well, his other personal areas.

Once finished perhaps a minute after he started, he headed back to the bowl, emptied it of sand, filled it up with water, and set it before her—she began to drink thirstily.

He released his grip on the reins before petting the top of her head and giving her some attention. Strangely, he noticed that she had no sand clinging to her body.

As soon as she had finished drinking the entire bowl about a minute later, she snorted her nose back into the air, but this time, it was a much shorter _H_ _r_ _r_ _r_ _mm_ _ppphhh_ sound.

He chuckled a few times. While refilling her bowl with more water, he said, "Of course you can have some more, Grasha. You truly are a magnificent creature, but you already know that, don't you?"

She darted her head up and down several times before dunking her head back into the bowl to continue drinking.

"And smart too," he concluded with a laugh. He next pulled her brush out of the saddle so that he could give her a quick grooming anyway.

By the time she finished drinking, several minutes later, the bowl was a little more than a quarter full.

Not wanting to waste anything, most especially water, he poured the rest back while thinking, _B_ _r_ _i_ _sha_ _v_ _a_ _c_ _an_ _j_ _ust_ _d_ _r_ _i_ _nk_ _f_ _rom_ _t_ _he_ _o_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _w_ _a_ _t_ _e_ _r_ _b_ _a_ _g_ _—that is, on_ _c_ _e_ _I_ _'_ _v_ _e_ _go_ _tt_ _e_ _n_ _h_ _e_ _r_ _b_ _a_ _c_ _k_ _f_ _rom_ _t_ _hose s_ _l_ _a_ _v_ _e-_ _t_ _rad_ _i_ _ng,_ _w_ _if_ _e_ _-_ _s_ _t_ _e_ _a_ _li_ _n_ _g_ _b_ _as_ _t_ _a_ _r_ _d_ _s._ _Oooh...t_ _h_ _ey_ _'_ _re_ _s_ _o_ _d_ _e_ _a_ _d_ _m_ _e_ _a_ _t_ _!_

As he reflected upon his final thought once more—despite the anger etched onto his face—only pure determination could be seen through his squinting eyes.

He grabbed hold of the reins, climbed into the saddle, snapped the reins while kicking his feet into the stirrups, and roared out at the top of his lungs, " _To_ _B_ _r_ _is_ _h_ _a_ _v_ _a_ _!_ _!"_

His words echoed for miles across the lands and the skies. Despite all the weight from the nearly full water containers, Grasha instantly charged into such a furious gallop that it felt more like flying—the scenery passed them by in the blink of an eye!

"And so powerful too," he whispered aloud in awe.

As soon as the adrenaline rush had tamed down nearly a minute later, he called forth his wife's image in his mind's eye.

This time, he saw her standing outside the cage and stretching out her body's limbs, as did the other women—only a few moments later, he saw that the entire caravan, currently camped at a small oasis, surrounded them and guarded them so they couldn't escape. He next called forth the image of the world-map, and the two separate images quickly merged into one.

Even though it was impossible for him to tell just how far the caravan was from his current location, he observed with relief that he was indeed catching up speedily, though he needed to steer his warhorse a bit more to the southeast. His guess was that they were about a hundred and forty miles away.

For most of the night, he pushed her hard in that direction through the desert sands, and it turned out to be a night without any encounters.

An hour before morning, they came across the single largest oasis Baltor had ever seen, stretching for at least a square mile. Contained inside were about five thousand or so palm trees: hundreds of them had coconuts hanging near the top or sitting at the bottom on the ground. Filling the gaps between the trees was a myriad of other lush vegetation like berry bushes and tall grasses. And in the smack middle of it all sat a large lagoon.

Without a second glance, he believed that this lovely oasis would require dozens of sandstorms back-to-back to cause it to disappear into oblivion.

However, right before his arrival into this oasis' perimeter only a minute later, he had already decided not to stay—only to refill the horse's water canister, which was now close to being empty, and then leave. After all, oases are the "saving graces" of the desert for any and all lost travelers, and he did not want anybody to find and steal his prized horse during his sleeping hours.

Therefore, after he had refilled the water container, grabbed a dozen coconuts, and stuffed them into the saddlebags, he pushed Grasha hard for another thirty minutes.

Five minutes before sunrise, he halted her, hopped off the saddle, pulled her bowl out, and refilled it with the water container.

Grasha dunked her head into the bowl. She drank about three-quarters of it before she stopped drinking and turned her head away from the bowl.

By this time, Baltor had already set down two large chunks of hay onto the ground. He quickly refilled the bowl back to the top, and while gripping tightly onto one end of her reins that he had just unsecured from her bridle, he dug himself back under the sands only seconds before sunrise.

The next night, he discovered with elation that his horse had survived yet again! As she consumed her dinner and water, he used that time constructively to locate Brishava's position, as before.

From the merged images, which happened soon after, he discovered—with a bit of relief—that the caravan had not traveled this day at all, as he easily recognized the small oasis surrounding them. For what reason they stayed put this day, he did not know.

In fact, the only notable difference with this mental vision from the last was that the women stood up, sat down, or lain down inside the cage. The most important part came at the end, upon discovering that he had halved the distance to the slavers on the map.

About five minutes later, once she had finished drinking another bowl of water, he climbed back into the saddle and pushed her back into a full gallop.

Three in the morning or so—still without a single moon in the sky this entire night—he observed a small bonfire to his southeast, perhaps a mile away.

About ten minutes later, once he and his horse had begun to draw near the perimeter of the bonfire's light though still protected by the darkness of night, he pulled back on her reins, causing her to halt.

He then carefully looked all around this small oasis, which housed this bonfire. He had seen this place twice before...in his mind's eye. Now it was for real!

Parked amidst the hundred or so palm trees surrounding a small lagoon located in the center were sixty horses and thirty two-man tents all around, as well as a covered-wagon sitting right next to the lagoon.

Lying thirty feet away on the far side of the bonfire was the cage filled with women—all of whom slept. Standing at each corner of the cage was a nomadic guard, each wielding a sword strapped onto the belt—they were "wide awake." Baltor presumed that the rest of the slavers, including that man in ruby-red clothes, slept in their tents.

He entered the perimeter of their campfire before halting his horse.

Not even three seconds later, the nearest of the four guards looked over, saw the stranger, and loudly called out, "Halt! Who goes there?"

Several of the members of the caravan woke up out of their sleep just before rushing out of their tents to find out what was going on and with weapons in hand—so Baltor observed out of the corners of his eyes. The other three guards united into a single file with the guard who had spoken.

Baltor brought his horse to a halt before he said oh-so-casually, "Evening—my name is Lord Poleax from Pavelus. I just, ah, came to this here oasis to quench my horse's thirst, refill my water canteens, and ah leave, if that's okay with you."

"Well, okay, but be quick about it," the guard informed.

By this time, a vast majority of the members that had come out appeared to relax their stances, as well their grip upon their weapons, but none returned to their tents.

Baltor—who made it seem that he was oblivious to the women in the cage—hopped off Grasha and led her by the reins to the nearby pool of water; at which point, she commenced to drink.

Just after he had pulled off the three-quarters-full water bag, he dunked it under the water. While it slowly filled, he simultaneously began to stretch himself around into weird contorted positions, all the while yawning.

His real purpose for stretching was to scan out the area for the worst and biggest threats, in which he had counted out nine so far. Five wielded a variety of handheld weapons, while the other four carried a bow notched with an arrow.

He turned around until facing the cage, in which he tried to make it look "accidental" that he had seen the women at all. After casting an astonished look on his face, he looked at the nearest guard and asked with a point of his finger, "What are those in that cage?"

That guard yelled out his answer, "None of your business! I think it best you be on your way now, stranger!"

Regarding the members who had been watching the spectacle, most tightened the grips on their weapons; further, a half-dozen more people came rushing out of their tents, also armed with weapons.

Despite the fact that the caravan members surrounded Baltor at this point, except for the lagoon behind him, he still asked in casual tones, "Are those women in there?"

The guard yelled at the top of his lungs, " _E_ _v_ _e_ _r_ _y_ _o_ _n_ _e_ _—_ _w_ _a_ _ke_ _u_ _p_ _!_ _In_ _t_ _r_ _u_ _d_ _e_ _r_ _a_ _l_ _e_ _r_ _t_ _!_ "

Within a half-minute, the entire caravan of fifty-eight men surrounded Baltor—all but one was armed.

Baltor waved his left hand down nonchalantly while replying, "Relax—I was just curious."

"Well, you best be on your little way before you get hurt there, boy," threatened the guard menacingly. "You're severely outnumbered."

While jabbing his index finger at the guard, Baltor declared just like a lord, "Now hold on there just one minute. As I said earlier, I am Lord Poleaxe from Pave—"

A fat old man wearing a purple turban and matching robes, the only person not armed yet the person who Baltor recognized from the vision, stood in front the bunch, and interrupted, "Nay—ye hold on just one minute! I give the orders around here, not ye!" After gesturing wildly around using his hands, arms, and even his whole body, he added, "As ye can see, we ain't exactly in Pavelus, are we?"

Several of the caravan members laughed merrily.

Baltor lifted his hands straight up in both a gesture of peace and surrender, and said, "You're right, sir. You give the orders, but please trust me that I'm only tell—"

The man interrupted, "Me first order be that ye mosey the hell out of here 'fore I have to give me second order, and that be have ye throat cut!"

The entire caravan, other than the man-in-charge, began to laugh raucously.

Through the laughter, Baltor asked, "Fine, but can I ask one little question first?"

In unison, the group forthwith stopped laughing.

With the snap of his finger, the man promised, "One question then ye be gone—one way or the other! I don't like you..."

Seedy chuckling erupted from several of the members that lasted about six or seven seconds.

Nicely and gently, Baltor asked, "My question is this: May I please, please, please buy one of those lovely girls from you? After all, I'm a wealthy and powerful lord, yet even I am in need of some human female companionship, and I couldn't help but notice that at least one of your fine ladies looks good enough to keep me nice and warm, especially during these cold desert nights!"

"Ye ain't look like ye no lord nor got no money," the man glowered skeptically. "Lords don't travel around the desert alone. They have a huge procession of guards with them at all times...you're alone."

"I—I don't look like I have money? Sorry for the desert destroying my attire, but I do have money, including some large expensive jewels! As for why I'm traveling around alone, that is none of your business."

That piqued the purple-turbaned man's interest. With his right eyebrow fully raised and his left eyebrow half squinting, he slowly nodded his head while saying, "Show me what ye've got first—then we negotiate."

"Okay, great," Baltor said with a hint of excitement just before pulling off the backpack. After opening it up, taking the clothes out and dropping them to the ground, he then angled the opening of the pack so the purple-turbaned man could make out the contents.

This man had already taken a couple of steps closer, as his eyes had spied some glittering objects within the bag, yet those same eyes caught sight of Baltor's just-as-glittery sword. He halted in place, crossed his arms defensively, and implanted a suspicious look on his face. Voicing this look, he asked, "How do I know ye won't strike me with ye sword once I draw near, eh?"

Hearing that question, all of the caravan members prepped their weapons or aimed their arrows right at Baltor.

"Sir," Baltor promised, "the only thing I'd like to do is to buy at least one of them girls off you—that's all! If you like, I can holster my sword onto my horse, which is my only weapon, and we can talk by the fire? How about that?"

"Fair enough...and I promises that me and me men won't lay a single finger on ye, if ye be tellin' me the truth. But if ye be wastin' me time, or tryin' to trick me, then ye be a dead man!"

"Fair enough," Baltor said before holstering his sword onto his horse and then walking casually toward the fire.

Meanwhile, one of the members had just placed a sinister-looking dagger into the right hand of the purple-turbaned man. This man walked toward the fire, about ten feet ahead of Baltor. As for the caravan members, they continued to stay encircled around the two the entire time.

Less than a quarter-minute later, they arrived a few feet away from the fire.

The purple-turbaned man turned around; and with his free hand, he extended it out toward Baltor and said, "All right. Now, give me the backpack. Don't ye be worryin', me lord—I won't steal it from ye."

Once Baltor drew to about two feet away from the man, he handed it over.

As the man began to peer inside, he used his left hand to shift it all around; his other hand continued to hold the dagger straight out in front of him.

A couple of seconds had passed before his mouth dropped open in pure bewilderment, particularly with the size of the large diamond. With a happy smile on his face, he looked back up at Baltor before glancing around at all his underlings while declaring with happiness, "Aye, what exquisite treasures ye have!"

He continued to look joyous until he and Baltor looked eye-to-eye once more; he then ordered, "Kill—"

The man was about to say "him," but looked down in surprise to see that Baltor had just grabbed his dagger-wielding hand, holding it firmly with both of his hands!

Still holding the man's hand, Baltor expertly twisted both of his arms around in a big wide circle, which caused the dagger to stab deep into the man's fat gut!

All the while, the man remained flabbergasted that he had been holding the weapon almost the whole way through! Even though blood gurgled out of his mouth for a moment before he died and his corpse and the backpack dropped to the ground, he did manage to rasp out the last word "him" before dying.

As for the dagger, Baltor now held securely that in his right hand. It was fortunate for him that the caravan members had surrounded him because the archers did not want to kill their own accidentally.

Fourteen of their most-brave fighters, however, took a few steps ahead of the rest, forming an inner circle surrounding Baltor.

He waited patiently; that is until one huge man bearing a long sword tried to attack him. He leaped into a roll just off to that man's side, and while coming out of the roll, he angled his dagger outward, which slicing action ripped the man open from the abdomen to shoulder—that man collapsed to the ground dead!

Baltor already stood in the defensive position, waiting.

An even larger man—seven feet tall with a weight of three hundred pounds of pure muscle and wielding a double-edged axe—thought he now had the advantage over his opponent that faced the opposite direction about twenty feet away. After he had charged, he swung his weapon around vertically and repetitiously with all of his might—so that it would split his opponent right down the middle into two pieces.

What this man didn't count on was for Baltor to pivot his body ever-so-slightly out of the axe's way, nor for the weapon to suddenly fly out of his powerful hands, implanting itself solidly into the ground several feet away from his position. He grew even more surprised when his opponent extended his foot, tripping the man in mid-stride. A split-second later he landed on the axe's razor-sharp blade that split him down the middle of his torso, at which point he died!

Over the course of the next four minutes, a fierce battle became waged as Baltor slaughtered fighter after fighter using just the dagger—eighteen more to be exact!

Despite the fact that the slavers still severely outnumbered him, the survivors fled off into the dark desert night going all directions.

Once the last opponent near Baltor was gone, he took a last cautious look around all around the oasis. Satisfied about a half-minute later, he looked at the cage to locate his wife.

Just then, the blood that drenched his body and his dagger caused him to become exceedingly hungry from all the intoxicating smells, and he knew that the beast needed to feast. NOW!

He hopped onto Grasha, and after snapping her reins and kicking her stirrups, they pursued the footsteps of one of the fleeing members.

After leaping off his horse perhaps a minute later, he slammed hard into that man; both men plummeted hard into the ground with Baltor on top!

He sank his vampire fangs into the man's neck, who in turn screamed out in agonizing pain; Baltor's body remained human while feasting. During dinner, he learned that this man's name was Ciaro, yet another piece of vermin. Following, although Baltor felt full, he thought, _There's a whole hell of a lot of vermin all around this world...sad! Well, I got to get my wife, just in case some of those slavers come back...not sure what we're going to do with them other girls though._

He climbed back on his horse and returned to the camp, feeling quenched and incredibly powerful. Not surprising, none of the other caravan members had returned.

A few moments later, he found the key on the purple-turbaned man before unlocking and opening the cage. He then stood to the side as all the beautiful yet dirty women poured out. Already they had begun to congratulate, hug, and even to kiss him, despite all the blood that soaked and caked his entire body.

From amongst the voices, one stood out from the rest—Brishava's!

She fought her way through, gingerly pushing off the young women who either clung on to and-or kissed their new "hero"—they had all witnessed the battle and were impressed to no end. Upon arrival, she hugged her husband tight before squealing, "Baltor—Baltor—Baltor! You rescued me!"

While hugging her back, he chuckled for a few moments, and then replied, "Yes, I did! But it was because of my love for you that I was able to find you, my gorgeous wife."

Hearing that comment, the rest of the girls realized whom he had come to rescue; all of them looked disappointed.

A drop-dead-gorgeous woman—a brunette with sea-blue eyes—became the first person to ask, "Now what are we going to do?"

After turning his head to look at this woman, he smiled before replying, "Go back home. You're all free!"

This woman glanced all around for quite a few seconds. She then said, "I have no clue where I'm at now, except for being in the middle of a desert—originally, I came from Pawshen. Do you know where my town's at from here?"

He sighed, "No, I don't. To be honest with you, I've never even heard of that place before."

Because Brishava had never heard the name of Pawshen, she could give no directions, so she kept silent.

A few moments had passed before the brunette asked, "So where in the world are we supposed to go?"

He pondered that question for a few seconds until an idea suddenly hit him! He said, "I have a great friend of mine named Yaush who lives in a village not too far away to the east called Valakan. Unfortunately, I can speak very little of his language or he mine, but I am in high hopes that he will be able to help us all find accommodations there; that is, until you girls decide what you're going to do, okay?"

Other than Brishava, the girls talked amongst each other for a minute before they all said at the same time, "Okay."

"For now," he replied, "let's gather as much as we can—goods, food, weapons, supplies, tents, water, parsecs, and other valuables—and as fast as we can...throw it all into the wagon that we will take with us. As for the horses, we will attach four of them to the front of the wagon, and the rest of you ladies will each have a horse, as will Brishava and I share mine. The remaining horses we will tether to the back of the wagon so that we can sell them at my friend's village. Okay?"

"Okay," the girls agreed, using that or a similar term.

Over the course of the next ten minutes, as quick as they could, they had thrown almost everything they could find into the covered wagon. Once completed, which included the water and food bags stored on Baltor's horse, the vehicle was three-quarters full.

Two of the girls elected to steer it—both had previous experience. The nine others, not including Brishava, each chose a horse that she liked. They tethered the rest of the animals, except for Grasha, to the back of the wagon.

The newly formed caravan commenced to ride east toward the mountains—Baltor sat on his warhorse leading the way, with his wife sitting the opposite direction in the front of the saddle while facing him. Nearly right away, they began kissing...

Another hour or so passed as they continued their journey at a trot, but he was so obliviously happy to have his wife back, and vice-versa, neither of them had been paying attention to anything else—they had both been kissing each other with eyes closed nearly the whole time. He wasn't worried as he knew his superpowers would alert him if danger drew near.

Brishava was the first to open her eyes and notice that the sun would soon be rising due to the ever-lightening skies. She broke her lip-lock to exclaim, "Baltor—the sun...the sun is about rise!"

That statement brought him back to reality!

He looked around all across the sandy dunes; even with his binocular-eyesight, he saw no oases, or caves, or anything else whatsoever to protect him from the sun, except for the desert sand, itself.

While his eyes scanned, his mind realized that if he dug a hole in the sand and buried himself completely under it, it would seem odd and maybe even obvious to everyone that he was, in fact, a vampire, especially his wife.

After realizing he had no viable options, he grew extremely frustrated, especially after having gone so far and through so much just to get her back, but he tried not to let it show. He looked back at his wife, shrugged his shoulders, and said grimly, "There's nothing to protect me from the sun's furious rays—it's soon going to be over for me!"

Sounding hopeful, she asked, "Can't we at least wrap some clothes over you? Maybe that would help. We could also fit you into the back of the wagon...maybe that will also help?"

He believed without a doubt that he had to be underground, and that the clothes and-or wagon would do absolutely nothing to protect him. He sighed, "I doubt it. In only a few minutes, my love, I may no longer be alive. So let me say now, I love you!"

"No," Brishava cried out, "I will not let Death tear us apart after having overcome such incredible struggles and adversaries, especially now that we have been reunited, my husband!"

Tears began to pour down from her eyes as she gripped onto him desperately.

Several of the nearest women riding behind wondered what the problem was, and why Brishava was crying instead of squealing in delight, as she had been doing almost the whole time since being rescued. Therefore, they sped up their horses to find out why.

After having seen the tears, a young woman with wavy blonde hair asked, "What's the matter?"

Hearing that question, Brishava began to bawl once more. She could see that within a minute or two, the sun would rise over the eastern horizon.

A single bloody tear poured down his face as well, but no one saw it as he quickly wiped it away.

Even though his heart ached—not physically—his mind wondered, _What lies on the other side of life, even though I'm an undead creature...?_ Probably due to all the intense emotions, he only then realized that he did not feel tired in the least bit.

Brishava somehow regained her senses at that moment. Through her tears, she yelled, "Do any of you girls have some extra clothes that we could throw on top of my husband? We need to hurry—he has a rare illness that prevents him from tolerating the sun at all, and will kill him!"

He and his wife hopped off the now-halted horse, and onto the ground. The rest of the caravan had stopped upon seeing their leader stop. The brunette with the sea-blue eyes asked from near the rear of the procession, "What's going on up there?"

"Ladies," the blonde yelled out, "we need as many clothes as soon as possible! Can one of you please check in the wagon to see if there are any more clothes in there, and bring them up here?"

Meanwhile, Brishava had already opened her backpack, pulling out the two new outfits that she had stuffed in there the night prior. She began to try to wrap them around her husband's face and neck.

Even though both outfits technically covered him from head-to-toe, it did not seem as if the wrappings would be secure at all; any little bump and they could fall right off.

Moments passed as the women passed along any extra clothing that they were wearing though there wasn't much. A couple of them had even begun to think about going topless.

Just then, the only redhead in the group—who had been riding on the bench in the front of the wagon—discovered a large sack in the back of the vehicle. This bag contained but one item, an item that could prove to be very useful—a large roll of black silk.

After dragging this sack out of the wagon and depositing onto the ground, for it weighed sixty pounds and she was not strong physically, she put her pinkies into the corner of her mouth before whistling. It was a loud and distinct noise, which henceforth drew everyone's attention to her.

Possessing a rather unusual twang, she yelled out, "I've found some silks for Baltor. Will someone please get over here and help me get this bag to him? Or better yet...Baltor...you get over here as soon as you can, so we can wrap you up and put you into the back of the wagon before sunrise."

After taking off the extra clothes with Brishava's assistance, he ran over to the wagon. She followed right behind, as did all of the other girls.

In under a minute, Brishava and the redhead wrapped the silky cloth around Baltor's feet, legs, torso, arms, hands, neck, and head—nobody said a word.

With a knife, one of the girls cut the rest of the roll off. Even though he could still shuffle and move his arms a couple of inches, he could not see a thing—he looked just like a mummy.

The next step consisted of guiding him into the back of the wagon, in which several of the other women had already cleared a spot that was just big enough for both he and Brishava to either sit or lie down. They assisted him into the cleared spot in the wagon, at which point his wife joined him in the wagon a moment later. She grabbed a pillow and sat on it.

The woman with the jet-black hair—the current driver of the wagon—said, "Baltor, my name is Poila, and if you like, I could ride your horse today while Chelsea drives the wagon. Is that okay with you?"

"No problem...thanks!" He muffled aloud through his silks, unsure of whom Chelsea was.

As the caravan began to move forward again a minute later, Brishava held onto her husband as tightly as she could, ready to fight Death himself if he should come.

Even though he could no longer see, he still knew that the first direct ray of the sun had risen over the eastern horizon, for he had become sleepy. He turned to face his beloved, and muffled through the silks, "This may not work _—_ _y_ _a_ _w_ _n_ —just remember, I shall love you for all eternity, my Brishava!"

The sun's rays hit the wagon and continued to rise in the next moment. Meanwhile, Brishava whispered, "I shall love you for all eternity, my Baltor!"

Despite all of the layers that included his clothes and boots, the silks, the extra layers of clothes thrown on top, and even the covered top of the wagon, he could still feel the sun's heat. At first, it penetrated his feet, then his legs, then his hips, then his abdomen, then his chest, and finally his head.

As he lost consciousness a moment later, he doubted that he would ever return...but he hoped he would.

## CHAPTER XXV

When Baltor did wake up—the second after sunset—he grew both relieved and joyous that his body had not turned into a pile of ashes, though he could not see a thing even after opening his eyes.

Still, despite his temporary blindness, he knew without a doubt that he was "alive and well" because he could feel the silks wrapped around him from head-to-toe. He simultaneously felt and heard the ground beneath continuously shifting around, thanks to the wagon that was still in motion. Most importantly, he felt somebody's warm arms tightly wrapped around his waist, which he presumed to be Brishava's arms.

Just to make sure he was alive and not in the netherworld, he asked, "Am I alive?" His voice sounded muffled because of the silks.

"Yes, you are, my beloved," she sighed just before nuzzling her cheek into the side of his neck for a few moments. She then released her grip, sat up, and added, "Yes you are."

Without saying a word, he sat up. She proceeded to remove all the clothes thrown on top of him before removing the silks that covered his head and face.

Once he could see, nearly ten seconds later, he noticed that she was still the only other person sitting in the back of the wagon. Also, the last of the sun's direct rays had left the multi-colored-blue cloudless sky, as became revealed through the single opening that looked westward across the dark-gold rolling dunes. Three brilliant stars hovered directly overhead, bearing the shape of an acute triangle.

A few extra moments of enjoying the scenery in silence had passed before he stated—in a loud volume—to the wagon-driver, "Hey—I'm both alive and awake now. Can you please alert the girls right away that we can stop, set up camp, and rest for the night?"

Brishava said not a word, yet continued unwrapping the silk.

The driver of the wagon whistled aloud—obviously the redhead with the distinct twang. She next yelled out, "Hey, gals—time to stop and set up camp! And guess what? Our hero Baltor's alive and well! Yeehaw!"

The caravan brought their horses to a halt while whooping out sighs of exhilaration at hearing "the great news," including the news about resting. After all, their fannies were quite sore from riding all day long, with only one short pit stop. Once halted, they dismounted and began to look all around while stretching.

Brishava finished her task perhaps a quarter-minute later, after which she and her husband exited the vehicle before commencing to look around.

At first, Baltor gazed to the west, then to the north, then to the east. There, perhaps a hundred miles away sat the Bospa Mountains! His gaze next fell to the south-southeast, and he inevitably came to discover the same fertile valley that he had passed through the first time about one hundred and sixty miles away. All of this was due, of course, to his night/binocular vision.

After looking back at his wife—she stood to his left while stretching out all her sore muscles—he asked aloud in wonder, "How can this be? How can I still be alive?"

"It could have been a number of factors," she answered. After shrugging her shoulders, she added, "Perhaps all you needed were the silks, the extra-clothes, and the wagon to protect you from the sun. Perhaps it was our strong love for each other...perhaps God?" She gave him a kiss on his cheek before saying, "Most likely, it was probably a combination of all those factors." She couldn't help but giggle a few times.

"I'm alive!" he exclaimed with utter glee. He grabbed hold of his wife around the waist and kissed her lips in exultation—she was just as joyous, especially from the flood of positive emotions that poured from her husband.

Once the kissing had abated perhaps a minute later, she lightly drew her finger down her husband's cheek and said, "I love you."

"And I love you!" he sighed—they began kissing yet again...

Poila "broke up the moment" by loudly clearing her throat a few times. After she had seen them stop kissing and start looking at her, she said, "I hate to break you two love birds up, but it's starting to get very dark around here...is there any way we can get camp set up?" Without waiting for an answer, she added, "None of us knows how to set up a campfire, much less the tents. Also, although we don't know what we've got to eat for dinner just yet, Chelsea is already in the back of the wagon and figuring that out. As you know, we just threw anything that looked valuable or necessary into the wagon this morning."

"Of course, we can set up camp," he replied with a nod and a smile. After releasing the grip he had on his wife, he looked all around the immediate area before asking, "Will a few of you ladies please volunteer to gather up one full armload's worth of firewood from the back of the wagon and place it into a pile...right over there?" He pointed his finger at a spot that looked perfect for a campfire.

Every hand sprouted up—he picked his volunteers by saying, "You, you...and you." They left to take care of the task.

He next pointed his finger at Poila for a second before asking, "And will you please get my flint? It's located in my horse's front-left saddlebag. It's a rectangular piece of rock about this big...gray in color." He gestured with his two-cupped hands to indicate the size of the flint.

"Of course."

After looking at the rest of the girls, including his wife, he pointed still another direction before stating, "The rest of us will set up the tents all around this fire. Fortunate for us, I paid close attention when we took them down this morning, so it should be just-as-easy to set them up. However, we need to retrieve all the tents from the wagon, so let's go, ladies." He clapped his hands a few times.

"Sure," they agreed, using that or a similar term. They walked toward the wagon to make things happen. It took about a half-minute to get to the wagon, in which the girls who picked up firewood were now walking toward "the campfire spot."

While helping to pull the tents out of the wagon, Baltor silently noted that Chelsea—the woman sorting through the food and supplies and conversing all the while—happened to be the redhead with the twang and the red hair.

Right after he—and all the girls with him—had arrived at "the tent spot" with tents in hand, a few minutes later, Poila came with the flint and handed it to him. The girls all watched and listened as he explained how to set up a tent, and then they worked together as "a team" to set up the rest of the tents.

Once the last had been set up, ten minutes later, he headed over to the pile of firewood. He took one-third of it all, and built a second collection about ten feet away from the first: following that, he ignited that second pile up with the flint and the dagger. All the while, Brishava continued to follow right behind her husband, ready to assist whenever he asked her to do something.

Meanwhile, Chelsea had just finished tabulating they had two months' worth of dried rations, a week's worth of fresh breakfasts and dinners, and of course, pots, pans, plates, silverware, mugs, a tripod grill, etc. She wasted no time looking out the back of the wagon, and informing everyone about her discoveries with that unusual twang, and that she would be making stew for dinner.

Chelsea then began the process of mixing a salted ham and vegetable stew inside a large pot. Once complete, she set up the tripod grill directly over the fire before she and another woman placed the pot onto the grill. While doing so, she explained to everyone that dinner would take about forty-five minutes to cook. Everyone else sat around the fire on the thick patches of short green grass and watched that fire in silence.

Once that time had passed, Chelsea tasted her concoction before calling out to everyone with that twang, "Dinner time, everybody—time to eat! And trust me, my stew's quite tasty!"

For the first time in a very long time, Baltor was not hungry or thirsty, and so he continued to sit near the fire and stare deeply into it.

Once Brishava had arrived at Chelsea's location, in which she was the eighth person in line, she picked up a plate. Chelsea, while spooning some of the stew onto her plate, asked, "Why isn't your hubby eating any of my stew—it's quite delicious!"

Brishava shrugged her shoulders before explaining, "He's got his own special type of diet. By the way, just to let you know, my name is Breeze."

"I'm Chelsea—nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you!"

After the two girls had given each other a little hug, Brishava then asked, "So, where are you from, Chelsea?"

Chelsea answered, "Oh—I'm from Lochas, a small town located in the Vispano Province. You?"

"Oh. As for me, I'm from here and there."

Now smiling from ear-to-ear, Chelsea replied, "Oh, well nice to meet you! Well, go ahead and enjoy your meal, Breeze! I'm sure you're hungry."

"Thanks—I will!"

Everyone spent the duration of eating the meal void of conversation. Following dinner, all of the girls, excluding Brishava, sleepily headed for her assigned sleeping bag in her tent right away. Most were far too exhausted not just from today's voyage yet more-so from traveling with those slavers for months if not years—but Baltor and Brishava had no problems staying awake by the fire all night long.

There wasn't a single incident to report all through this time frame, but she did ask him shortly after the skies had begun to lighten to call her Breeze from here on out; the nickname her father had given to her as a little child.

He agreed.

Just before they wrapped him up into the silks the next morning, he pointed toward the south-southeast and informed Chelsea (who had volunteered during breakfast to ride his warhorse that day and lead the caravan), "Hey Chelsea, make sure you keep steering us all in that direction, okay?"

With a wink of her left eye, Chelsea replied, "No problem, Baltor...."

Two quiet evenings later, except for the fact that each night his hunger multiplied, the caravan left the last of the desert and entered the fertile valley of the Bospa Mountains. The women, including Brishava, could no longer take the continuous riding on the horses or the wagon, due to their incredibly sore fannies, and so they parked near the lagoon around noon, set up camp including a fire and all the tents, and relaxed.

Once he awoke after sunset, his fourth night since having feasted, he discovered that the caravan wasn't moving and that he had no vampire powers—not that they did him any good anyway. His mind proceeded to wonder if he would only have his powers in three-day bursts for all eternity, and for the remainder of eternity, he would starve. At the same time, his stomach continued to gurgle angrily—it demanded nourishment!

Baltor quickly slipped off the silks before noticing that he was alone in the wagon. He then grabbed a bow and a quiver filled with arrows and exited the vehicle—when he saw the girls all sitting around the campfire and chatting, he interrupted them by saying, "I will be back shortly...I need to hunt us down some fresh food."

Without waiting for a response, he left camp. At first, he set down the bow-and-arrows against an unusual-looking tree that he could easily remember about thirty feet away from camp just before he began scouting for fresh animal tracks. Perhaps five minutes later, he ran across the tracks of a pack of wild pigs—five additional minutes passed before he spotted that pack as they grazed on grass. He hunted one down, sucking down every single drop of blood. By the time he finished, the rest were long gone.

Although far from being quenched, he knew the time for hunting for himself was over. Therefore, he located his bow before scouting the ground for other medium-sized animal tracks. Nearly ten minutes passed until he ran across a small herd of five-foot-tall, black-skinned animals with long legs and cloven hooves, about a thousand feet away—the leader had large horns on its head.

He shot his arrow at one of the smaller creatures, which zoomed in one eyeball and out the other before that arrow thudded in a tree. The creature—already dead—dropped to the ground; the others took off. After propping it over his shoulders, all the while holding the bow in one hand and the quiver in the other, he headed back for camp...

Later that night, the girls all sat around the campfire, ate a delicious dinner, drank fresh water, and relaxed, while Baltor watched silently. Halfway through dinner, however, he stood up and said, "Ladies...in about three days or so, we will come to a major fork in the path that goes both north and south. Make sure that if it's daytime and I'm sleeping, we choose the southern route, even though it looks easier to go north—trust me on that...

"Also, the weather will be getting much colder from here on out, in which it may even snow—day and night—so I would suggest that you find whatever extra clothes you can in the back of the wagon, and be ready to put them on. It may even get cold enough to blizzard, even during the middle of the day—okay?"

The women nodded their heads affirmatively, but no one said a word since they were all so tired. Right after dinner, all but one of them headed to their tents and fell asleep.

The only woman who stayed awake for a little while longer was Brishava, as she cuddled against her husband near the fire. She confessed, "Honey, I've been suffering from a severe migraine all day long—can you please give me a little massage, including on my temples?"

"Of course, dear," he replied. "Sit in front of me."

Once she had, he commenced to giving her a massage—after about ten minutes, he realized that she had at least a dozen knots in her shoulders and her neck, probably from all the traveling. He worked out the knots with his index fingers, in which she squealed out in pain a few times, but inevitably, he removed all the knots.

Following the massage, she said, "Thank you so much! I feel much better...my headache is even gone! But I need to get some sleep...so with that, good night, my love!"

She gave him a minute-long kiss before departing for the wagon and falling asleep in her sleeping bag.

Baltor remained on guard all night long without a single encounter, or negative incident, or even a single snowflake.

When not patrolling out the area and-or hunting for food for himself, he spent that time taking "good care" of his warhorse. He provided not only a stack of hay and a bowl of water, yet took off the saddlebags and the saddle before brushing her mane out from head-to-toe with a horse's hairbrush. All the while, he talked to her, petted her, and loved her.

Needful to say, Grasha always loved the attention she received from her master. It's also needful to say that because he had some extra time this night, he had—for the first time—cleared out everything in the saddlebags so that he could remove all the sand in it.

Thus, it became quite a surprise for him to discover a cantaloupe-sized leather bag sitting inside one of the saddlebag's pouches. Curious as to the contents, he opened the sealed bag by untying the leather string wrapped around the end and looked inside...not only did he see yet he smelled the pleasant aroma of coffee beans. His father had loved to drink a cup of coffee in the morning just about every day when he had been alive, in which his son had not forgotten the smell.

About an hour before sunrise, Baltor woke up his wife by crouching next to her in the wagon and sticking the half-full mug of steaming coffee under her nose, holding it at the bottom—her eyes popped right open just before her hand reached for the glass. He let go, once she held it firmly.

In turn, she sat up, blew into the glass a few times to cool the fluid down, and took a little sip. She whispered, "Thanks, honey...my headache's still gone, and the temperature of this coffee is perfect. By the way, where on earth did you get coffee from?"

"I found a bag of beans in one of my saddlebag's pouches. Made enough for everyone as a matter of fact, which we will serve to them, just before we serve breakfast. Ready to help me cook?"

"Yes, sir," she said before giving him a wink and a smile.

Together as a team, they made breakfast for everyone—three dozen scrambled eggs cooked in the cooking pan over the fire, twelve loaves of bread they toasted on sticks, a half-serving of grape juice, and of course, a half-serving of coffee.

Once done with cooking, he used a serving spoon to portion out the food onto each plate that had been previously set into a long row on a long log. He then stuffed the end of a fork into each pile of eggs. At the same time, she poured coffee into the glasses resting on a steel platter sitting on the ground. The next step consisted of her picking up the tray, and together, she and her husband would enter each of the tents, in which he would take a glass and stick it underneath the nose of a girl. Every person woke right up...and once awake after only a few sips, he directed that girl to her plate of food.

Once husband and wife had accomplished this part of their mission, their next mission was to dismantle the tents.

As for the women, they ate and drank by the fire—before long they introduced themselves to each other before chattering happily away like hens in a henhouse, most of them for the very first time, as the slavers had never allowed them to talk to each other.

Poila even volunteered to ride on Grasha and lead the caravan—nobody made any objections.

By the time the women finished breakfast, about ten minutes before sunrise, Baltor and Brishava had just finished putting everything back into the wagon, neatly, so that there was just enough room for the both of them to either sit or lie down.

Even though Chelsea was the fourth person to eat, she was the first person to arrive at their location, and volunteer, "Would you like me to help you get wrapped up, Baltor?"

"Please and thanks. By the way, your name is Chelsea, right?" He smiled.

"Yeah," she said, returning the smile.

"Nice to meet you."

Chelsea chimed back, "Nice to meet you also."

Brishava had just produced the roll of black silks, and so she asked, "Are we ready?"

After a nod, he answered, "Let's do it."

With Chelsea's assistance, the two girls wrapped him up and set him into the back of the wagon.

As he lay comfortably on the floor with his wife's arm already wrapped around his chest, the last thing his ears heard just before he fell into "a deep sleep" was Chelsea's twanged voice yell out, "Giddy up!" The sun rose in the next second.

After sunset, he awoke while feeling the wagon still moving. Though he did not feel Brishava, he heard someone nearby flip the page in a book. His voice sounded muffled as he asked, "Honey...is that you?"

"I'm here, my husband...ready to get unwrapped?"

"Sure, my wife."

While doing so, she briefed, "So that you know; we rode nearly all day long—I know everyone's exhausted beyond comprehension. No one's talked about it, but I can see it in their eyes...hear it in the tone of their voices. We only had three twenty-minute pit stops, to give the horses some water, hay, and rest. At the same time, we stretched out while eating dried rations for lunch, etc. Hardly anyone spoke all day long, in which we rode for about twelve hours."

"Hmm."

"I figured we could stop for dinner once I finished unwrapping you, and we could ask them if we maybe we should camp for the night...or keep going after a few hours of rest. Sound good?"

"Yes, my love."

After looking toward the front of the wagon, Brishava called out, "Chelsea...please stop the wagon. Let's eat chow."

"Gotcha, Breeze...whoa, horses!" Chelsea said while pulling back on the reins—the horses stopped. "Girls, halt, and let's eat some chow!"

While the girls ate a quiet dinner of dried rations as all the fresh food was gone, Baltor asked, "Do you guys want to set up camp here for the night, or just keep on traveling? If we stay, I can hunt us down some fresh dinner."

In unison, just about all of the girls simultaneously mumbled, "Keep traveling." Only Brishava remained silent.

"That's fine," he replied. "However, the horses need to rest too, as do you all. We will leave in four hours, so after dinner, get some sleep...I heard from around the way that's the minimum amount needed to feel rested. Meanwhile, I will be on guard and protect us all. Okay?"

"Okay."

A few seconds of silence had passed before Brishava asked, "By the way, what is the name of your friend and his village? We can't remember."

"Yaush is the name of my friend. His village is Valakan."

Poila said only a couple of seconds later, "Yes, we all decided that we just want to get to Valakan as soon as possible and relax for a week, maybe a month...maybe even a year."

With a smile, Baltor replied, "That sounds like a fantastic idea!" Unexpectedly, his stomach made a grumbling sound that instantly alerted Brishava's attention, as well a few other girls' attention.

"Honey," Brishava asked right away, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I am, but I'll be all right," he answered.

"Oh. Okay," she responded.

Looking around at everyone, Baltor said, "I agree with you ladies that we should ride as long as possible, to get to Valakan as soon as possible. After all, besides the cozy town, there'll also be hot and delicious meals, refreshing and tasty beverages, yet most especially, warm beds for us all to sleep in. Maybe even in a day or two, if we push it to the limit!"

"Hooray," they all agreed enthusiastically, using that term or a similar one.

Four hours later, his stomach grumbled nastily at him as he climbed on his horse; he took an extra shirt and tied it tight around his waist. Meanwhile, his wife said nothing this time about it as she climbed into the front of the saddle, although she did lightly pat her husband's shoulder in understanding.

Throughout this second night, the temperatures remained surprisingly warm...unlike the previous time he had traveled through this location. Before morning, his wife wrapped him into his silks after they sat in the back of the wagon. The girls continued their journey eastbound.

By noon, however, nobody conscious could take the constant riding any longer, and so they stopped the caravan. They began to stretch their arms and legs around, including Brishava who had just woken up from a nap—she joined them outside.

They spent two hours at this location, which break consisted of eating a small portion of rations and water while stretching their arms and legs out, or relieving themselves, or relaxing—nobody said a word until it was time to go, which words came from Brishava. She stated at a volume so all of the girls could hear, "Mount up...time to go." Within the minute, the caravan continued eastbound.

Afternoon turned into night, in which Baltor awoke but did not feel Brishava anywhere around him in the still-moving wagon, so he sat up. From the quick movement, his stomach roared like a savage beast, thanks to the pangs of hunger...but his mind forcibly ignored his stomach!

Once that sound had ended, his ears heard someone setting a book down. Next came the sounds of someone removing the silks—this someone had to be Brishava.

"Good evening, my lovely wife," he said. "Did you have a nice day?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, sounding just as chipper. "I'll have these silks off you momentarily, and then I'll alert everyone to stop and take a thirty-minute break. Following this break, you and I shall ride on Grasha for most of the night, except for a few pit stops along the way. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect to me..."

Once the caravan had stopped, only a minute later, Baltor and Brishava exited the wagon before heading for the warhorse. Although Poila now stood on her feet while holding the reins securely, she and the other girls stretched their bodies out.

As soon as the half-hour was over, Chelsea drove the wagon while Poila slept in the back—Baltor and Brishava rode on Grasha at the front. By four in the morning, the weather had become ten degrees colder, which was the factor that caused Brishava to wake up from a light nap while leaning against her husband.

She was also the first to spot a small campfire about a hundred feet up ahead to the right, for her head had been blocking Baltor's view in that direction.

"Baltor," she asked while shifting her head over so that he could see the direction she pointed with her index finger. "Do you think that maybe that person camping up right over there next to the mountain possibly comes from your friend's town? Valakan, did you say?"

He looked over in that direction and shrugged his shoulders before answering, "Perhaps..."

Just then, the camper happened to spot the caravan, so he or she stood up and began to run on over while waving his or her arms around maniacally; because it was night and this person wore a cape-with-hood, telling the gender was impossible.

About sixty feet away, the camper cried out with a voice that apparently belonged to a man, "Help—my caravan was just attacked a few days ago, in which nearly everybody was killed! I am certain that I'm the only survivor, but even so, I'm lost, scared, and hungry as these mountains and valleys are like a labyrinth, and at points, it gets to blizzard conditions while traversing tight paths on sheer cliffs! Even worse, I had to kill my horse this morning because he broke his left-front paw due to an accidental misstep! Can you people please help me? Please?" He pulled back his hood.

Baltor deciphered and remembered this man's face in the next second...he was one of the members of the slave-trading caravan! Without a word spoken, he slid off the back of his horse, landed on the ground, and began to approach the man while drawing his sword. After taking about six steps, he screamed, "I know who you are—you are one of the bastards who stole my wife away from me!"

The man said not a word, but turned around and ran off into the darkness!

Baltor waited a few seconds before turning to face his wife, and saying, "I'll be back...please have everyone take a thirty-minute break. I need to exact some justice."

After he had witnessed her nod one time, he proceeded to chase the man down on foot.

Once out of sight from everyone, he notched his sword back onto his belt before allowing himself to transform into the vompareus through a willed thought. Before the next half-minute had passed, the beast's fangs took a chomp into this man's jugular veins!

While consuming Kartan's blood and knowledge, Baltor's beast-and-human mind merged into one...and he felt unbelievably powerful! In fact, he felt that with but a willed thought, he could fly to the moon, to the end of the galaxy, maybe to the very end of the universe!!!

Before he could do just that, however, his heart couldn't help but dwell upon his love for his wife, and this is the sole factor that stopped him from literally flying off into space.

Thus, he landed on the ground about fifty feet away from the caravan, transformed into human form, and called out so they would know that he had returned, "Guys—I'm back! Justice has been served."

Brishava replied, "Good to know, my husband! Are we ready to continue our journey?"

"Yes, we are, my wife," he responded before hopping into the back of the saddle.

The caravan continued traveling eastbound for the rest of the night. Shortly before morning, the girls wrapped him up and stowed him in the back of the wagon. Once they had consumed breakfast—dried rations and water—they went eastbound. At noon, the caravan reached the fork, taking the southern route.

Two uneventful nights later—on the third night since he had feasted—the procession finally reached the borders of Valakan. After he and Brishava had resumed riding on Grasha at the lead, they inevitably arrived at Yaush's home.

Once there, and everyone had dismounted and tethered their horses to the wagon, Baltor knocked on his friend's door—moments later, the doorknob turned.

As soon as the door had opened, Yaush's mouth dropped open in astonishment at seeing his good friend standing on the other side. A smile had formed before he proceeded to close his eyes and give Baltor a good bear hug.

Another astonished look crossed Yaush's face upon opening his eyes a few seconds later and discovering all the beautiful women who stood right behind Baltor. The girls including Brishava, of whom all bore astonished faces at the size of the giant.

Yaush released the embrace, and with a friendly gesture of his huge hand inside, he said to all, "Vlaidim zaus!"

Even though Baltor understood the physical prompt, what greatly surprised him was the fact that his mind translated the words for him. Yaush had said, "Welcome all!"

Just before Baltor entered the cabin, he replied, "Gemne mao, Yaush."

Yaush, in turn, replied, "Mao sahu vlaidim, Baltor."

As Baltor remembered these words, his mind didn't have to translate, "You are welcome, Baltor."

After entering the cabin and glancing around, Baltor proceeded to walk over to Jimnee who sat on the couch by the fireplace.

Only a moment later, Jimnee turned her head to look over. With a dumbfounded look on her face, she stood up, ran over, and gave him a tight hug of her own before saying, "Baltor, mao've platha caloph!"

Quickly, Baltor's mind translated, "Baltor, you've come back!" At the same time, his peripherals observed that Brishava now stood to his right.

Once they had released the hug, he introduced the two ladies to each other. Meanwhile, back where Yaush stood on the outside porch, he had counted out eleven beautiful women as they passed him by while entering the cabin. All possessed "warm and friendly smiles."

With an amused cock to his head, the giant closed the door behind them all. He then began to slither his massive body around the attractive young women, to get to Baltor.

As Yaush began to draw near, he quickly deciphered that his friend had his arm wrapped loosely around the waist of a beautiful woman, and vice-versa.

Baltor looked at the giant before asking in Valakanese, "How are you, my good friend?" He smiled warmly.

Returning the smile, Yaush replied in the same language, "Very good, my friend!" With an inquisitive gesture on his face, he used both of his index fingers to point at all the girls while asking aloud, "Now, who are they?"

Once Baltor's mind had interpreted, he explained in Valakanese, "To explain in a nutshell, my wife was kidnapped from me about a week and a half ago by a caravan of slave traders in the Sharia Desert—not too far away from here. Soon after, I caught up and killed nearly half of them, while the majority of the caravan fled like cowards into the desert. Not only did I rescue my wife from a locked cage, but I also rescued all these other women."

With a cock of his head toward his wife, he added, "By the way, this is my wife, and her name is Breeze."

Yaush only then realized—with shock—that Baltor had said everything in Valakanese. He could only ask, "How is it that you have learned and mastered my language so well? You don't even have an accent!"

"I found a very good teacher, my friend."

Yaush shook his head back and forth a couple of times to clear the cobwebs before he laughed a few times. He then said, "I have so many more questions for you, Baltor—however, I hardly know where to begin!"

With a hand gesture toward his wife, Baltor introduced, "Well, let me once more introduce you to my newlywed wife, Breeze."

Although she did not understand the words, she could decipher that an introduction had been made, especially upon hearing her name, "Breeze." Therefore, she curtsied while bowing her head in greeting for a moment, as was her custom.

Baltor then spoke in Pavelian, "My beautiful wife and friends....this is my friend, Yaush, the one I told you all about?"

All of the girls smiled, waved, or curtsied. On the other hand, Brishava extended her hand out.

Yaush took it, but he did not shake it or even hold it; one of his fingers was the equivalent of three of hers. Instead, he brought her hand up to his lips, gently kissed it, and then released his grip.

Baltor asked in Valakanese, "Yaush, I need to find some rooms for us all, for we have nowhere else left to go, and we are all too exhausted from all the traveling. We should have whatever money it might cost. Is there an inn that we can stay at for at least this night?"

"Well, I'm not sure what and how many rooms there might be at _Hungry Bear_ , which is the only hotel in town, but there's only one way to find out. Jimnee, would you like to come with us?"

Jimnee replied with a smile, "Of course, my darling husband." She stood up, set her sewing materials onto the chair, and walked over to her husband's side.

They, the whole group, departed the cabin—Jimnee closed the door behind everyone.

As soon as Yaush noticed all the untethered horses sitting around, he asked Baltor, "Before we head to the hotel/bar, I think it best we park all these horses in my barn, especially since there are wolves and other predators around here. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," he responded before translating the news to everyone else that they needed to place these horses safely inside the stalls of the barn. Once so, perhaps fifteen minutes later, Yaush locked the barn gate, and then everyone walked toward the town.

Perhaps a minute after this part of the trip had begun, Jimnee informed Baltor, "Tell your beautiful wife that it is an absolute pleasure to meet her!" Baltor translated right away.

Brishava responded right away, "Please tell Jimnee that it is a great honor for me to have met one so highly spoken of by my husband...both Jimnee and Yaush saved your life, after all!" Baltor translated.

Following, Jimnee and Brishava instinctively clasped hands while smiling warmly at each other as if "long lost sisters." However, nobody said a word for about a quarter-minute.

That is until Jimnee turned just her head to face Baltor before asking in her language, "Did you find the furs to be of help for you in your quest?"

In the same language, Baltor replied, "Yes, they were of great help, thank you so very much. Most unfortunate for me, my camel took off into the jungles; that is after some sneaky cannibals poisoned and captured me, in which I barely escaped from with my life. The fur suit you made was in my camel's saddlebags. Sadly, I have no idea what happened to Valuspo."

With a nod and a sad look, Yaush interrupted the conversation by saying, "Valuspo was indeed a magnificent animal, too! Sorry he's gone. Say...can you tell me of your quest, now?"

"That," Baltor suggested, "should be told before a roasting fire with a mug of ale."

Yaush laughed at his comment, and confirmed aloud, "You're right! Indeed, it should! I guess it is quite fortunate that we are on the way to the inn and restaurant now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, my friend."

Once they had reached the inn about ten minutes later, they entered two at a time. Only three giant-sized patrons sat in this place, drinking up the suds at the bar. When they saw Yaush, Jimnee, and Baltor enter, they greeted casually, "Good evening." However, when they discovered all of the beautiful girls enter their haven right after, their mouths instantly dropped open with their conversations forgotten.

All the while, Baltor, Jimnee, and Yaush approached the bar, in which they saw a bartender sitting behind it.

Yaush asked the bartender, "How many rooms do you have, Jerishan?"

Jerishan replied, "Of the fifteen rooms I have, twelve are currently available, Yaush."

"Great," Baltor interjected in Valakanese, "We'll take them all for a week."

After figuring out the costs in his head for a couple of seconds, Jerishan looked over at Baltor and said, "That'll be ninety-five baushans, please."

Baltor asked, "Will you take a precious gem as payment?"

"Well," Jerishan answered. "Is it worth ninety-five baushans?"

Baltor turned to look at his wife, who now stood by his side. He then asked, "Can I get a gem, please?"

She randomly pulled out an emerald the size of a chicken egg from her backpack, and as she handed it over to Baltor, she replied, "Of course, honey!"

Baltor extended it out toward the bartender while asking, "Will this cover for a week, Jerishan?"

Without having even touched the emerald to feel its quality, Jerishan's eyes bulged as he declared, "That'll surely cover a month!"

"Deal," Baltor replied. As he extended the gemstone over to the man, he asked, "Say—will that buy us all a round of ale, too?"

"Sure thing, buddy," he replied with excitement just before taking the emerald. After pocketing it, he began the process of pulling out two dozen mugs and filling them up with alcohol for everyone in the entire bar.

Perhaps a minute later, Baltor picked up one of the mugs and pretended to take a small sip from it. Yaush did not sip—instead, he grabbed his cup and chugged it all down in one swoop. Everyone watched in amazement.

" _Ahhhh_ ," Yaush sighed deeply. "I needed that. Another, please, after you're done taking care of the lady."

Jerishan had only then set a mug of ale before Brishava, but she cleared her throat several times. When he glanced up, he saw her shaking her head negatively while pointing at the mug.

Jerishan's facial expression transformed from happiness to confusion—he looked over at Baltor.

Brishava wasted no time grabbing the sleeve of Baltor's shirt and tugging it twice to get his attention, which worked out perfect. She then asked, "Honey, I don't like ale. However, do ask him if he has any wine, preferably red, please?"

Baltor translated her request.

Jerishan looked from Baltor to her before throwing a smile and a nod. Without a word, he disappeared into the kitchen for about ten seconds. When he returned, he held a corked bottle in his hand, as well two wooden mugs. He then told Baltor, "Tell that lovely woman that this is my best wine—reserved for only the most special of my guests!"

After Baltor had translated, Brishava smiled at the innkeeper appreciatively while nodding her head and saying, "Thank you very much!"

Baltor translated while filling both glasses.

Even though Jerishan listened, he instinctively grabbed Yaush's empty mug, walked over to the tap, and began refilling it. During this final step, he responded, "You're welcome, good sir. What's your name?"

"I'm Baltor...great to meet you, Jerishan!"

"Likewise, good ole chap. Likewise...I'll remember your name, Baltor!"

Yaush interjected at this point by saying, "So, Baltor, there are a couple of things Jimnee and I need to discuss with you in private, including your quest...and why you have returned to my town once more with all these beautiful women, including a wife?"

"Of course, good sir, let's go and talk! However, what I'm about to tell you shouldn't be said in private, yet translated into the two languages that everyone understands...know what I mean?"

After Yaush had grabbed the handle of his full mug, he stood up from the barstool and snapped his fingers loud three times, which drew everyone's attention right away. He next pointed at all three elongated tables sitting in the middle of the room, in which each table had six chairs surrounding it.

The rest of the group immediately figured Yaush's game plan, and so they moseyed their way that direction. The women each grabbed a chair and pulled it away just before the men pushed all the tables together until it formed the shape of a triangle.

The women next slid all of the chairs up against the tables just before everyone took a seat nearly at the same time; everyone commenced to converse amicably.

Perhaps ten seconds passed before a waitress came out from the kitchen—Baltor forthwith ordered a dozen bottles of wine and two dozen mugs of ale.

Only after everyone had a drink in-hand did he stand up and begin to relay his history from beginning to end, and in both languages—he omitted any parts that regarded the Guild, the tower, the rod, Trendon, and vampires. He also withheld the info about his wife being the daughter of the Sultan of the Sharia Empire—he continued to call her "Breeze." Meanwhile, the whole bar hovered over every word he said.

Moments before he had finished relaying his tale, his eyes only then spotted a brand-new patron sitting in a dimly lit booth at the far-right corner of the room, all alone.

This person wore all black clothes, including the gloves that extended past the elbows and the black cape with a pulled-over hood. As this person leaned forward in the booth with his or her fingers interlaced, Baltor could only assume that this person heard every word that he said.

In turn, the hooded figure became aware that he or she had been spotted, and so that person stood up and began to approach—although Baltor did not make it look obvious, his hand rested upon the handle of his sword.

Once that person reached the table, without warning or a word spoken, he or she raised his or her left hand. At the same time, Baltor had not only unsheathed his sword, yet the tip was only an inch away from this person's throat who had just pulled back the hood—goose bumps surged up-and-down Baltor's body upon discovering with shock that this person was none other than Humonus! The man continued smiling, yet said not a word.

"Hey, Humonus," Baltor exclaimed just before sheathing his sword. He stepped out of his chair, turned to face his old friend, and extended his arms out for a hug—Humonus returned the embrace.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group looked over to check out the commotion.

Baltor pulled back from the hug a few seconds later before asking, "So how are you doing, my good old friend?"

"Couldn't be better, my good old friend," Humonus answered with a nod and a smile. "From the way it sounds, things are going quite well for you, as well!"

"Yes, they are, for the most part," Baltor responded. Gesturing toward Brishava, he introduced, "Have you met my wife, Breeze?"

Humonus looked at her for a few seconds before looking back at him and replying, "No, I haven't, but you are certainly a lucky man."

Brishava extended out her hand, to which Humonus took. He brought that hand to his lips and gently kissed it. With another bow yet without releasing his grip on her hand, he added, "My...you are as beautiful and as lovely as a Princess."

Baltor's mouth dropped open for a moment that he knew and revealed her identity so openly; still, he managed to shut his mouth, point his index finger up into the air, and stutter aloud, "So how—how did you know?"

Humonus' face turned serious while answering, "Everyone in the Guild knows, as well many, many others. That's why I came here to this town—I arrived three weeks ago. I figured you'd end up here, sooner or later."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you're here," Baltor replied enthusiastically.

"Listen, I need to talk to the both of you in private, your bride and you, though this conversation can wait until shortly before we all retire for the night."

"You got it, brother!"

About two in the morning, the new group of friends—who were all drunk except for Brishava who kept herself sober by drinking slowly and Baltor who was not the least bit intoxicated despite all the drinks he consumed—exchanged their fond farewells with everyone else.

Humonus, Brishava, and Baltor left the bar area by walking upstairs and down the hall to Room 9—Baltor and Brishava's room for at least tonight if not for a whole month.

## CHAPTER XXVI

Once comfortably seated on one of the two couches in the hotel room with the door closed, Humonus began, "There are four reasons why I've come looking for you, Baltor."

"I have my suspicions why."

Humonus nodded his head three times before saying, "Your suspicions are probably right... One, the Guild has a 200,000 parsec bounty on your head, Baltor, dead or alive. Why may you ask?"

He answered his own question by saying, "Because—shortly after you made your escape, one of the survivors went straight to the High Council! Romach heard your confession to Lydia regarding the rod, and not only did he say that you admitted to finding this magical weapon, but you also lied about your discovery to the High Council. Not only to them did you lie if this is true, but you lied to me!"

"I had no choice," Baltor replied evenly.

Humonus stated just as angrily, "Romach also testified that you killed everyone else there in a fit of murderous rage, including Mistress Lydia; everybody that is but the Princess!"

Baltor released a deep sigh before replying calmly, "It was not because of murderous rage but merely self-defense—really, you must believe me, I had no choice."

Humonus dropped his tone to a whisper while saying, "Romach said some other things to the Council, but we will talk about this a little later when you and I are alone, Baltor."

He sucked in a deep breath, pointed two fingers up into the air for a second, and then said in hushed tones, "And it is only now that I begin with reason number two. There is a 1,000,000 parsecs reward offered by the Sultan for the person who brings his only daughter back to Pavelus, alive and well. Not only did he send half of his troops to scour the lands, yet thousands of bounty hunters and adventurers have joined the cause! Now you may ask—how can reason number two possibly get any worse?"

He answered his question right away, "Easy—they know what Brishava looks like based on a recent painting of her that was then mass-produced by scores of sketch-artists and shipped out across the world—so that she could be identified, and brought back home to Daddy even sooner! Soon enough, someone will come looking for you both here so neither of you is safe..."

Perhaps ten seconds of silence passed before Baltor asked, "Is that all?"

Humonus wasted no time answering, "Nope. There are two more reasons why I'm here, but before I do relay them, let us—just you and me—walk down to my room, so I can relay it to you in private. Okay?"

Instead of answering, Baltor began to look at Humonus suspiciously.

Humonus caught the "look," and said, "Listen, my good ole buddy, if I had come for the real bounty, I would have taken her, not you—she's worth a hell of a lot more money." He chuckled a few times while lightly tapping Baltor in the arm with his fist.

Upon noticing that his friend still looked dubious, Humonus stopped laughing. He wildly threw up his hand for a second before asking in a serious tone, "Why in the hell would I have told you everything I did if I was going to take either of you in?"

Without waiting for an answer, he asked another question, "Baltor, is it logical for a thief to give up his greatest asset—the element of surprise? Have you already forgotten who taught you most of what you know? Are you not aware that I have learned three times as much in martial arts since then? Even though I heard you're good, you're really good; I could and can easily beat you in combat!" He laughed a few more times before clamming up.

Baltor contemplated these questions for about ten seconds before shaking his head negatively a couple of times. He then answered, "Sir, please lead the way, sir!" He turned toward his wife, leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and then said, "Honey, I'll be right back...I promise."

"I'll be waiting for you right here, my husband," she sighed.

Humonus led the way to his room, opened the door, and politely gestured for his friend to proceed first; after both men had entered, Humonus shut the door.

Even though the man continued to face it, he asked, "Have you heard the strange rumors spreading throughout the Guild, and even by quite a few Pavelian citizens, about an enormous black monster roaming about?"

Baltor remained silent.

Perhaps ten seconds passed before Humonus added, "Why—some of the zanier reports claim that this monster can even fly in the sky at incredible speeds, and can even turn invisible—wow! As for me, I've always been and still am a skeptic of supernatural stuff. Romach, however, swore up-and-down to the Council that he saw you get stabbed in the back where your heart is located right before a fierce wind caused his torch light to go out! He then heard a monster's roar that replaced your scream, in which it sounded like it came from the same spot you and Lydia both stood. Of course, this scared the hell out of him and caused him to run the hell away from there—many other people heard the roar too, including all of the students! As for me, I was sleeping heartily away at my apartment, so I heard or saw nothing...

"Although the Council forthwith called forth just about everyone—Guild members, students, and even all of the guards excluding the two protecting the front gate—the Councilmembers ordered Romach to show us all where this happened while explaining to everyone what he witnessed from beginning to end. Two hundred and twenty-eight of us went to that location, in which we soon after found Lydia's corpse—yet not a single drop of blood was to be found anywhere around her immediate area! We did see your footprints there, in which we backtracked them to the spot where Romach said he saw you get stabbed—indeed, there was a lot of dried blood in that area! Because we saw Lydia's footprints leading up to the same spot, we surmised that you sliced her head off right then, waited for her to bleed out, picked up both head and body, and deposited her remains where you did. Then, you walked back to the ladder, climbed it, and escaped off into the night. So let me ask you...did you happen to hear or see anything strange like a monster that night?"

"No," Baltor replied while throwing his hands up into the air for a second. He then asked, "Is that your third and final reason for coming all the way out here to Valakan...to ask me about a monster?" Although he remained quite curious as to the reason why Humonus continued to face the door, he did not ask this question yet.

"It leads up to reason number three, yes," Humonus replied just before performing a one-eighty.

"Huh?"

"Please," Humonus replied while gesturing his hand toward a couch, "Sit down and get yourself comfortable."

After a nod, Baltor did.

"I will tell you this reason in a moment, Baltor my friend, but let me first congratulate you for passing yet another test—which confirmed to me that my reason for coming out to see you is still quite doable if you should grant it!"

"Okay, Humonus, I'm baffled now."

"I know that it seems like I'm elusive, but I swear that it'll all make sense in a minute," Humonus stated. After releasing a deep sigh, he sucked in an equally deep breath before asking, "Remember when you came back from the jungles and told me of your mysterious illness that prevents you from withstanding the sunlight, and of course, your encounter with the cannibal tribe?"

Baltor nodded his head a couple of times.

"Well," Humonus said, "just because I am a skeptic of mysticism and superstitious folklore does not mean that I don't recognize and consider more mundane possibilities, especially ones that seem to add up strangely." He paused for a couple of seconds before suggesting aloud, "One possibility that I heavily considered, during the time it took me to get from Pavelus to Valakan, in which I left a week after you did so as to not arouse suspicion, is that this might all be the ingenious contraption of a thief trying to gain some berth."

After inhaling two deep breaths, he added, "This particular thief that I know personally runs so fast that he virtually looks to be flying through the air and fights so well that he is practically unbeatable. Most especially, this thief is so dang talented that it would be easily possible for him to make it look like the work of a quote 'sloppy vampiric monster trying to conceal its tracks,' unquote. Does this person sound familiar to you at all?"

Without waiting for an answer, he extended his index finger up into the air, cleared his throat several times, and then walked to the far end of the room where rested a small table. Resting upon this table sat a metallic tray, which had a pitcher and a mug sitting on it.

After picking up the pitcher, he poured some water into the mug, set the pitcher down, picked up the mug, took a long draught, and set the mug back down. He turned around and faced his friend once more before saying, "Still another possibility that I considered, heavily, is the proven fact that some people do go crazy, especially after having spent a lengthy period isolated from any other human contact. Imagine how much harder it must be for those lonely souls to retain their sanity, especially after being a prisoner of a vicious tribe of cannibals for even a second!"

While nodding and cocking his head to the side, Baltor said, "Okay, I think I see where you're going with this."

"No matter which of these possibilities exist, Baltor, they all lead to one conclusion. If you were _the monster_ , and you didn't want anyone else to find out, especially your brand-new bride, wouldn't you have tried to kill me the very second my back was to you, as I started talking about the subject?" When Humonus had said the words "the monster," he had whispered them.

Still, he did not pause as he asked, "Or how about the second time my back was to you, just after I had finished talking about a particular master thief I know, and then I walked over to the other end of the room and then nonchalantly drank some water right after that? In other words, you had quite a few opportunities to make your strike on me, yet you never did. Therefore, my conclusion is this: You are no monster at all, though you did a great job making it look that way, to buy you and Brishava as much time as possible to escape! Am I right?"

Baltor nodded his head a couple of times while bearing an impressed look on his face; of course, he did not want anyone to know that he was _THE MONSTER._ He next asked, "So, that's reason number three for you coming all the way out here to Valakan? Deciphering what really happened that night?"

"Actually, no...I already figured it all out on my own, but I wanted to see how you would react. My third reason is to warn you that you, your wife, and even this town are not safe by the two of you being here," Humonus answered bluntly. "Therefore, as soon as possible, you must both disappear for a very, very long time, but before this event happens, I'd like to come along with you guys, if you'll allow me, which is reason number four!"

Baltor replied with excitement, "Of course you can come along, my friend!"

"Do you have a place already in mind where we should go?"

"As a matter of fact, I do...a village named Chao-chu-sha-maen. It's the perfect place for us all."

"Do you have a time set as to when we'll leave, and what times would be best for us to travel, during the day or night? Finally, do we have a map to get there, if we should move during the day while you sleep?"

"I'll have everything from beginning to end mapped out for us by tomorrow morning, which is when we'll depart, my friend!"

"Excellent idea, for leaving so soon," Humonus replied with a smile. "Thanks for letting me come along!"

Baltor walked over to the door, placed his hand on the knob, and was on the verge of opening it. Instead of doing that, he turned around and said, "By the way, before I head back to my room to make sure Brishava's okay, I have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why do you want to come along with me?"

"Because...out of all the pupils I've had over the years, you're the only one who ever became one of my best friends, really brothers, afterward!"

"Thanks, brother—for everything," Baltor replied before walking back over and giving his friend a brotherly hug.

Humonus' gruff reply was, "No problem."

A few seconds had passed before Baltor released the hug. He then stated, "Good night, friend." He left the room, closed the door, and headed back to his room.

While closing the door behind him, he noticed that Brishava had fallen asleep on the bed. He quietly set his sword onto the cushioned sofa, and watched her in slumber for a few minutes while relishing in her exquisite beauties.

Despite the fact that this room had no windows, Baltor could sense that the sun was about to rise, and so he covered himself completely with the silky cloth before snuggling next to his wife and falling asleep.

The following night when he awoke, he instantly realized that his wife was not with him though he had no worries about her being gone...not around here. Therefore, he continued to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

Nearly ten minutes later, Brishava entered through the room door while carrying quite a few large shopping bags and chiming in Valakanese, "Good day!" In Pavelian, she finished without pause, "Sweetheart."

Meanwhile, he smelled a spicy yet feminine scent protruding from her being just before he happily greeted in Valakanese, "Good day!"

A moment later, Jimnee entered the room while also carrying a couple of shopping bags in her hands. The two women began to set down the bags on the floor next to the table.

As Baltor sat up in bed against the wall, he replied, "Good evening to you, Jimnee!"

"And a good evening to you, Baltor," Jimnee said with a chipper tone. She added, "Tell your wife that she is so wonderful! Even though we couldn't understand each other's language, we had a fantastic day together, shopping and having fun!"

By this time, Brishava had not only carefully finished setting the last bag onto the ground, but she had begun to take items out of one of the bags and set them on the table. Meanwhile, Baltor translated the words for Brishava.

She stopped in mid-task to turn around and give Jimnee a hug. While focused on her eyes, Brishava said, "Gemne mao, Jimnee."

With a rough accent yet a gentle smile, Jimnee replied in Pavelian, "Thank you, Brishava."

"You're so welcome," Brishava said, returning that smile.

After sucking in a deep breath, Baltor said to his wife, "You know that we must be leaving first thing in the morning, right?"

Brishava sighed, "I know. Humonus told me earlier today, as we ran into each other at the shops."

"Oh," he said. He looked over at Jimnee before saying in Valakanese, "It is quite unfortunate that we must be leaving tomorrow morning, but it is for all of our safety that we do so."

Jimnee replied, "I assumed that from all the traveling gear your wife purchased today, though she was not able to explain to me why you must leave. Can you tell me why? After all, you just got here last night!"

He released a deep sigh before answering, "That, I shall explain over dinner, if you and Yaush would kindly honor us with your presence."

Without hesitation, Jimnee replied, "We'd be delighted!" She then added, "Speaking of Yaush, I must return home and wait for him to come back from work, but I can assure you that we'll be back in an hour or two."

With excitement, Baltor said, "Great! We'll be looking forward to seeing you tonight."

After Jimnee had left and closed the door behind her, Brishava sang over her shoulder, "Guess what I got?"

He walked behind her, wrapped his arms around her, kissed her spicy neck with his lips several times, and then asked, "What?"

"Guess," she cooed.

"I don't know—new clothes."

"You're one hundred percent right, Baltor. Though it took a whole shop of tailors all day to reconstruct them from your silks, they have made you gloves and a suit with a hood to protect you from the sun! Unfortunately, they made a boo-boo and made eye-holes in the hood, so I had to purchase a hat to protect those beautiful eyes of yours, as well some new matching boots. Oh, and I got you a brand-new outfit to wear tonight!"

"Wow, that's quite a lot! You got all that for me?" he asked as he looked over her shoulder at all the stuffed bags.

She released his hug, turned around, and pulled a black suit out of one of the bags. While holding it out for Baltor to take, she said sweetly, "About half of it is yours, yes—now try it all on and see how your pajamas fit."

After giving her another kiss on the cheek, he stripped down, took the outfit, and commenced to dress in the one-piece black and silky suit that was sunlight impenetrable when buttoned from the ankle up to the neck—meanwhile, she watched him with ever-increasing desire.

Once he had put on the black suit with the silver lining, he found that the silk stretched throughout his muscular body exceptionally well, except for his feet and hands. He then pulled down the veil that concealed his face and neck; he could see through the holes.

"Perfect," she half-sang. "Now, try on the hat."

He picked the wide-brimmed black hat with a white feather sticking out of it and put it on.

She extended out the black leather boots toward him, and said, "Here are your shoes."

"Thanks," he replied before taking the boots and putting them on. After buckling them up with a dozen silver buckles, he realized they fit perfectly.

While holding out a pair of black gloves, she said, "Last but not least, here are your gloves."

Once he had put these on, she chimed, "Perfect!"

He couldn't help but chuckle a few times while looking at himself in a mirror. He then looked at her before saying, "I kind of feel like a pirate!"

She laughed at his comment for a few seconds. Once her laughter had subsided, she sounded serious as she ordered, "Now, take it all off, my valiant swashbuckler!"

"Okay," Baltor dutifully said.

He did as ordered, except for his underwear, and was about to put on his regular clothes.

Before he could, she grabbed hold of his hand and slowly led him to the bed while saying playfully, "We have plenty of time to play before we go to dinner, my husband!"

The husband growled in desire just before the wife squealed in delight....

About an hour later, he brought in five buckets of hot water, four large towels, and a bar of soap that a busboy had set outside the room about ten minutes earlier.

Baltor commenced filling the giant-sized bathtub with water, in which it sat behind a three-piece privacy stand.

While he lay back down in bed, she climbed into the tub. Once she finished about fifteen minutes later, which included wrapping the dry towel around her body under her armpits and the wet towel around her hair, she called out, "You're turn, honey."

Only moments later, he climbed into the bathtub and commenced to bathe—she began to get dressed in some colorful fur garments that she had purchased for herself earlier that day.

As soon as he had stepped out from behind the stand with a dry towel wrapped around his waist about ten minutes later, he halted in place before beginning to stare at his wife. She now wore a long silky red dress with black sandals, and sat in front of the mirror while applying a light amount of makeup on her face; oh, and she had a towel still wrapped around her head.

Perhaps a half-minute passed before he watched her remove that towel and commence to comb through her damp hair—he found that he wanted her yet again!

Approximately ten seconds later, she stopped grooming to look over at him, also in a desirous fashion, but both resisted their primal urges.

After clearing her throat several times, she pointed her finger at the bags while informing, "Oh, I have some stuff for you in the middle bag, my love. Take a look-see!"

He opened that bag up before pulling out a long brown-and-white strip of fur, then some matching fur garments, and finally a pair of brown leather boots—everything he set down onto the bed.

While looking back into the bag one final time, his eyes only then spotted a gold necklace with small gems embedded throughout its length. He held up the necklace and asked, "Even this?"

"Yes. Why, don't you like the necklace?"

"I like it all very much, thanks—I'm just not used to be being spoiled," he said as he donned the necklace. It was a snug fit, and only enhanced the other golden necklace with the arrowhead.

She playfully replied, "Well, get used to it, mister!"

Once done with getting dressed into his outfit and boots, he commenced to combing his hair with the comb that she had just given him. About a minute later, she handed him the golden hoop that Humonus had given him so long ago so that he could pull his hair through it.

"Thanks, baby," he said while continuing his grooming procedures.

"No problem, love," she said while continuing to stare at Baltor adoringly. Perceiving that he had just finished grooming his hair, she sighed, "No doubt you are _the finest man_ I've seen by far, my bright and shining star!" When she had said those words, _the finest man_ , her voice had stressed dramatically.

"Really?" he asked. "Didn't you tell something like that to me once before?"

"Yes," Brishava sighed. "I have, yet I'll certainly say it thousands of times more in thousands of other ways, I'm sure. You are h-o-t!"

He chuckled a few times before saying, "Thanks, you know that I feel the same exact way about you. You are h-o-t! Moreover, I'd like to do something about that if you get my drift, but I—we can't! Humonus is probably sitting in the dark corner of the inn, alone with no one to talk to, and desperately waiting for us to come—I'm ready to go, how about you?"

"I'm ready, but have you yet inspected yourself in the mirror, my husband?"

Baltor answered with a question, "Why?"

"Because you should do this from now on before you ever go out in public—ensure that you look as good as you think you do."

He looked over at the mirror to his right and saw his image stare back. As he turned his body to face the mirror, he saw that his body had indeed become quite muscular—easily decipherable through the thin fur garments he donned.

His eyes next glanced up to his face—he noticed that he had a strong jawline with relatively thin lips, dark-brown eyes, slightly angular eyebrows, and a slightly curvy nose—a unique-looking face.

Finally, he looked at his hair, only then noticing the small clump of hair that stuck out at the golden hoop, making his hair look a bit "out of whack."

The same second he had patched it up, she already wore a black fur-coat that reached the floor before saying with a smile, "Let's go."

Together, hand in hand, they headed downstairs to the bar area. Upon entering, Baltor was slightly amazed to see Humonus standing in the middle of the bar with a mug in hand, talking happily away to all of the former slave girls—and with a slight slur. In between taking long sips, it was evident that he was telling some tale through his showy arm gestures.

Meanwhile, the girls all appeared to be completely enrapt.

When Humonus saw his friend, however, he stopped his tale in mid-sentence. With a prompting gesture of his hand, he said, "Baltor! Come here, my friend."

Baltor replied with a smile, "I'm already on the way."

Humonus added with a laugh, "On the double!"

Baltor began to suspect that his friend might have been talking about his old training days. After a chuckle, he replied, "Sir, yes, sir!" These words triggered an outburst from the girls, confirming his suspicions.

Once he had reached Humonus, only eight seconds later, he could smell the alcohol reeking off his friend's breath—whew!

Humonus wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders while asking the girls, "Did you know that when I first saw him, he was nothing more than a raggedy, thin, and mud-caked boy! Now, look at what I've made him into...a simply magnificent beast, he is!" With his free hand, he threw a hard slap into his friend's stomach.

Baltor didn't even flinch.

The women looked over with admiring glances. Poila became the first person to sigh, "Really? I thought you were a prince from the get-go. Nevertheless, what a handsome hero you still are!"

Most of the girls began to giggle. Meanwhile, Brishava noticed the looks but said nothing. She didn't feel the pangs of jealousy—well, maybe _a_ _little_.

Baltor wasted no time as he said humbly, "I just did what I had to do, that's all! Anybody else would have done the same thing."

"Oh come on, Baltor," said Humonus. "How many people would have dared to fight an entire caravan of slavers just to become a hero to a bunch of beautiful women, besides me?"

All of the girls giggled for a few moments, including Brishava.

Once the giggling had almost subsided, Baltor shrugged his shoulders and laughed, "I don't know. Perhaps everyone, perhaps only you and I, I don't know."

Because Baltor could see from his peripheral that Yaush and Jimnee had just entered the bar, he looked over their way before saying in their language, "Yaush and Jimnee, we're over here."

Right away, they proceeded to walk over. Meanwhile, Humonus leaned in close toward Baltor, and whispered with a drunken slur, "I must confess, my friend...I'm pretty drunk...and pretty hungry. How about we get something to eat?"

"Excellent idea, Humonus." Using both languages, one after the other, he next asked, "Are we all ready to sit down and order some dinner?"

They answered by nodding their heads.

Baltor escorted his friend over to a table and gently sat him down on a chair. He took the seat next to his friend, at which point Brishava took the seat next to her husband.

Yaush easily linked the three tables on his own so that they could all sit together. He and his wife next took seats on the other side of the table while the girls filled in the remaining seats.

Humonus must have already arranged dinner with the innkeeper somehow, or someone did—for the moment that they had all gotten comfortable, three serving girls began to pass out the steaming plates of steak and potatoes, while three more brought out mugs of ale.

Amongst those serving girls, Baltor noticed Yeea—she had long known that he was amongst the customers, but she had also seen the gorgeous woman clinging to him like glue, which is why Yeea said nothing but only kept her gaze focused on her task.

Once everything had been set down on the table, the group of friends commenced eating, except for Baltor who stared at his food. As for the serving girls, including Yeea, they left.

Even though he found himself only slightly hungry for blood, the delicious smells of the spicy food wafted up to his nose, and his stomach unexpectedly growled.

He wondered—for the first time—whether he could tolerate eating the cooked food, and so he gave it a shot.

Baltor discovered that everything tasted quite delicious and that he was able to stomach the food and the ale, even though dinner did not curb his hunger one iota.

Meanwhile, as Brishava ate, she also watched in amazement as her husband ate the offered food because she had never forgotten or been allowed to forget that Baltor had his special diet. Despite her curiosities, she said nothing about her thoughts.

Once everyone had finished eating, the drinking and the conversations began. Baltor found that he was the sole interpreter between the two different languages, which he could still speak on the fourth night since having feasted last.

The first important question came from Yaush perhaps ten minutes later, as he asked, "Where are the three of you guys going, and why do you have to leave so soon after having just arrived?"

After Baltor had interpreted the question, he answered in both languages, "Let me say that it's best for everyone that we disappear, as soon as possible, and for awhile. As to the why and the where, I really can't answer those questions for all our safety..."

Hearing that, Yaush nodded his head a couple of times before saying, "Ah, ok. I understand."

Though many people asked many questions that night, one of the most-important ones regarded the plans of the girls.

Baltor interpreted the girls' answers that they had already voted to stay in town, acquire a large cabin to accommodate them all, learn the Valakanese language, and get jobs.

Upon hearing that, Brishava said, "Hold on a minute, guys. I have something that should help you out." She stood up and briskly walked upstairs. Upon her return a minute later, she carried her backpack in her hands. She opened it, poured out the remaining jewels onto the table, and offered, "This should help you get started!"

Seeing a few dozen jewels splattered around, the girls all squealed in delight over this unexpected generosity and exclaimed, "Thanks!"

Humbly, Brishava smiled, nodded a couple of times, and replied, "You are most welcome."

Several more hours of friendly conversation and drinking alcohol passed as everyone attempted to learn the very basics of the Valakanese language through Baltor—even though he continued to drink wine, he did not even so much as get a slight buzz.

Finally, around two in the morning, he made the sobering announcement that the time had come for him and his wife to go to bed, especially since they had to leave before sunrise. Except for the girls who did not have to get up early in the morning and so they wanted to stay up longer, everyone else agreed that the time had come to call it a night.

After everyone had concluded all the fond farewells a few minutes later, Baltor held on to an intoxicated Brishava with Humonus staggering in the lead; meanwhile, Yaush carried in his arms a passed-out Jimnee home; all but one of the girls continued to drink at the table.

At this point, Chelsea—who had only consumed one alcoholic drink all night long—rushed over to the staircase and purposefully blocked their path at the base of the stairs.

Humonus halted in place while throwing an inquisitive look at her.

She answered the look with a question of her own, "Humonus, guys, would it be all right if...if I—if I came along with y'all?"

Humonus turned his drunken head to look at Baltor and Brishava, who had also halted in place, only then noticing that both were nodding in the affirmative and with smiling faces.

After a slight pause, Humonus laughed once before saying in a drunken slur, "Sure... So, what room you in...Chelsha?"

"Chelsea, but close enough. I'm in room six!"

With another laugh, Humonus said, "I'll be at room six first thing in the morning."

"Thanks!" Chelsea said before giving each of them a quick hug, and then stepping out of the way so they could head to their respective bedrooms. She then headed back over to the girls, told everyone the news, said her fond farewells, and then headed to her room.

Brishava, once in her bed, fell asleep right away but Baltor stayed awake all night long preparing for the ensuing journey, which would commence first thing after sunrise.

Not only did he neatly pack everything up, but he also spent several hours drawing up a map based off memory. In particular, he had placed an arrowed-line on the map, indicating the specific route he had taken to get through the Bospa Mountains and through the Jungles of Galgaa—safely. As Baltor already learned the first time—take the wrong turn, and there would be some grave repercussions.

By the time he had nearly completed all of his tasks, there remained only about an hour or so until sunrise. Or so he approximated as there were no windows in this room.

He decided that the time had come to change into his new pajamas, though he would wait until the last minute to wear the hat with the optional facial visor that had eye holes. He opened the black leather waterproof bag, and after pulling the hat out by the top of the crown, he dropped it nonchalantly onto the bed, where it came to rest after a slight thudding noise.

The next thing to catch his eye within the bag was the one-piece black suit. Immediately after pulling it out of the bag, putting the suit on, and then buttoning it up, he threw a glance over into the mirror.

He laughed a couple of times before muttering aloud, "Looks like kiddy pajamas."

He put on the socks, which had been lying right under the suit before he pulled the final item out of the bag—the black boots. After securing the boots to his feet, he put on the necklace Brishava had purchased for him.

He took one last look over to the bed, to pick up the hat and put it back into the bag, but then he noticed a thin black cord that now hung down from underneath the visor.

He picked up the hat and flipped it upside down, noticing with surprise that his wife had added two extra features to the cap since last he saw it. First, there was a front pocket to hold the facial/neck visor whenever he didn't want it down, which visor no longer had eye holes; and second, someone had sewn the ends of the cord into opposite ends at the base of the crown. He realized only then that whenever he did not want to wear the hat on his head, he could simply hang it around his neck like a necklace.

After choosing the second route, he noticed that the hat hung a quarter-way down his back. He strapped on the belt that held the sheath that held his beloved sword and looked again into the mirror. Instead of laughing this time, he possessed a look of one hundred percent satisfaction on his smiling face while nodding his head in approval.

Perhaps a minute later, he began to wonder how much time he had until sunrise, so he opened the door, and peeked out the window on the other side of the hallway that revealed the colors of dawn that were fast approaching; sunrise would occur in about a half an hour. Therefore, he closed the door, walked over to his still-sleeping wife, and shook her gently while whispering her name.

"Hmmm?" she responded, sounding very sleepy. Her eyes did not open.

"It's nearly time for you to wake up. Everything's packed, and hot water will be on its way shortly so that you can take a bath. Right now, I need to talk to Humonus about something important, which he will later explain to you soon, so I'll be right back—love you!"

After planting a light kiss on her cheek, Baltor grabbed the map, exited the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Humonus' room and knocked on the door.

A few moments had passed before he heard his friend say from behind the door, "Come in."

He opened the door, entered, and then closed the door. As he turned around, he noticed that Humonus was still packing his belongings away and that Chelsea was sleeping soundly on the bed.

Not wanting to wake her up, Baltor half-whispered, "Humonus, I made a map that will get us to Chao-chu-sha-maen safely. It is critical that I show it to you right now. Later, you can show it to Brishava and Chelsea. Most likely, I'll be asleep by the time we leave, so you'll have to attach four horses parked behind Yaush's barn, drive the wagon here to the inn, and pack everything up into it, including me. You know where his barn's at, right?"

Humonus answered using the same volume, "No, I don't know where his barn is...does your wife know?"

"Yes."

"Great," Humonus replied. "Hold one more second...okay." He stopped packing before meeting his friend halfway in the bedroom.

It took Baltor the next several minutes to explain the route based on his map—all the while Humonus nodded his head. Once done giving directions, Baltor concluded, "...and that's it! Oh, and don't forget to grab my warhorse either."

"Gotcha, buddy," Humonus replied with a thumbs-up, "I'll explain the map to Brishava and Chelsea later, as you requested. As soon as we're done, probably between ten and twenty minutes from now, we'll meet you over at your room, okay?"

"Okay."

Baltor exited the room, closed the door, and walked back to his room. Upon opening the door, he became quite surprised to see Yaush and Jimnee standing inside; he saw only their backside as they faced his wife.

Brishava was now "wide awake," wearing a red bathrobe and sitting on the couch.

Even before he had closed the door, Yaush and Jimnee turned around—both people looked sad.

In confirmation, Yaush said in a sad tone of voice, "My great friend, I am going to miss you so much!"

Baltor responded, "And I you, my great friend!"

Yaush appeared to fight back some tears, as he said with his arms extended out, "Come here."

Baltor approached and accepted the tight hug from Yaush. A minute passed until the giant finally released his embrace, in which Baltor could see tears sprout down the man's face.

Through his unabated tears, Yaush said, "You must promise me that you'll come back again. You and your most-beautiful wife can stay in our home anytime! You both are now family to us..."

While trying to fight back the tears, Baltor replied, "I swear that I will come back, but only once we've resolved our problem."

Yaush sobered up before pointing his index finger up into the air and replying, "I know that you are the man to address any situation that comes your way. And I know that Brishava is the woman to help and support you along the way! Did you know that the two of you are soulmates, just like Jimnee and me?"

Without waiting for a response, Yaush proceeded to walk over to where Brishava stood—though she listened, she did not understand a word they said. Only then did Baltor realize that he had forgotten to translate all they had said.

Upon drawing near to Brishava, Yaush extended his massive arms out. She stood up and gave him a tight hug for a few moments.

Following the hug, the giant took a couple of steps back, yet kept looking eye-to-eye with her as he said, "Baltor, my brother, please tell Brishava that it's a pleasure and an honor to meet you!"

Baltor interpreted.

She responded, "Please tell Yaush that rarely have I met someone who is as noble as he! And I've met many, many, many nobles."

Baltor interpreted.

At this point, Jimnee walked over to him, gave him a tight hug, and with tears flowing out of her eyes, she promised, "Baltor, as my husband says, you two are more than welcome to stay at our home at any time. If you should ever need any more clothes made, you'll always know where to come!" She released her hug, took a single step back, and then clasped onto his hands while laughing, "Oh—did you know some of the townsfolk of Valakan conjured a little nickname for you the day after you left? You are now famously known around here as quote-unquote 'Volfenpakslaer!'"

Baltor's mind translated the word to mean a series of words meaning, "the slayer of a whole pack of wolves!" As he laughed a few times, he gave Jimnee another tight embrace; from all the high emotions in the room, he could no longer fight back the bloody tears pouring from his eye sockets.

As soon as Jimnee pulled back from the hug, and she saw all the fresh blood pouring down Baltor's face, she stammered out in shock, "My Lord! What, what is this—blood pouring from your eyes?"

Baltor wiped the tears, which only smeared the blood even worse upon his face as he tried to explain, "I've obtained a mysterious illness from the jungles."

"How strange," Yaush added with astonishment—Jimnee replied at the same time, "Oh my goodness!"

Even though Brishava could not comprehend the language, she understood the shocked expressions, and so she said to her husband, "They're wondering about your illness, aren't they? Tell them your illness may be strange—but that you are the noblest man I've ever met!"

While still trying to wipe off the remaining blood with his hands, Baltor translated the words.

Jimnee spoke first, "Tell Brishava that I know this to be true, but I've never seen anything quite like it before, and I, well, we were just in shock, that's all. I am sorry if our comments hurt you, or your husband's feelings."

As Baltor translated, Brishava relaxed. Once completed with the translation, she replied with a curtsy, "Gemne mao, Jimnee."

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Brishava walked over to the door, opened it, and saw that Humonus and Chelsea stood in the hallway with bags in hand.

There was still a tad bit of dried blood on Baltor's face that he had missed—Jimnee noticed it, licked the sleeve of her shirt, and then quickly wiped the blood off until gone.

Humonus didn't step in the room; instead, he asked, "Well guys—are we ready to go?"

Baltor answered, "Yeah, just about. Are you ready, honey?"

"I haven't taken my bath or gotten dressed in my daily attire," Brishava answered.

Humonus asked, "You haven't? Why not?"

"Long story, Humonus," Brishava answered. "Ten more minutes and we'll be ready to go."

"Okay," he replied.

Meanwhile, Baltor's gaze fell to the window, noting the skies were seriously lightening up—he figured it'd be about two to three minutes until the sun rose.

"Baltor, please tell your friends, Yaush and Jimnee," Humonus said, "that it was an absolute pleasure to meet them."

Baltor translated.

"And tell Humonus and Chelsea the same thing," was Jimnee's reply.

Baltor translated before saying in Valakanese, "Oh, we'll be dropping by your barn to pick up the wagon and five horses, including Grasha. As I will be sound asleep very soon in the back of the wagon, I must make my final farewells now. My friends, Yaush and Jimnee—farewell!"

At the same time, Yaush and Jimnee gave Baltor a group hug while saying, "Farewell!" Brishava joined in right away; and a few moments later, Humonus and Chelsea joined in.

About a minute or so later, everyone released the hug and took a few steps back.

Yaush and Jimnee gave a final farewell wave of the hand to everybody before exiting the room and returning home.

Once gone, Humonus informed, "We'll be back in the room, whenever you guys are ready."

Brishava replied, "Okay."

After Chelsea and Humonus had left, Brishava took off her robes and her pajamas behind the stand before climbing into the warm bathtub—meanwhile, Baltor pulled out the visor, laid the hat and visor right over his face and neck, and fell asleep upon the bed.

Once Brishava was ready to go, she retrieved Humonus and Chelsea. Together they walked to Yaush's place, retrieved four of their horses from the barn, and attached them to the front of the wagon--only five minutes later, Grasha was ready to go with saddle and reins.

After waving to Yaush and Jimnee who looked out of one of their windows, they traveled back to the hotel. Humonus rode on Grasha while Chelsea steered the wagon and Brishava sat next to her.

Upon arrival, they packed everything up into the back of the wagon, which included cautiously moving Baltor's sleeping body so that sunlight never hit him. Once everyone had taken a quick restroom break in the hotel, the group began to make their way east. By the time they left the borders of Valakan, it was an hour and a half after sunrise.

## CHAPTER XXVII

For the entire day that was filled with mostly-cloudy skies and intermittent light rains, Humonus followed the directions of the map, all the while scouting the areas for danger and the best routes—once more, he rode upon Grasha. All the while, either Brishava or Chelsea steered the wagon, and Baltor slept in the back. The only breaks they had taken throughout this day were for breakfast, lunch, and one other fifteen-minute break in the late afternoon.

That evening, around seven or so, the rain had just stopped for the dozenth time. At the same time, Humonus found a perfect spot for them to camp, which area was a small clearing located between three tree-covered mountains. Only moments later, the girls began the process of setting up a four-man tent, while he commenced building a campfire using timber stored in the back of the wagon.

Just after the sun had set about forty minutes later, Baltor awoke to feel famished. With haste, he set his hat onto the bag and booked out of camp at top speed.

Baltor was starving, and his single mission was to scour the area out for fresh animal blood. Fortunate for him, it only took ten minutes to track down and capture a fox, seven more minutes to consume its blood, fifteen minutes to track a sheep down and drink that, and another fifteen minutes to get back to camp.

By the time he had returned, feeling a little better but still quite hungry, he saw that the camp was now fully set up with a tent and a campfire. Furthermore, a metallic tripod grill stood over the fire itself, which rack held a small, black cauldron that had steam pouring out. He did not see either girl, but Humonus was continuing to stir something in the pot with a large spoon.

"Where'd you go, Baltor?" Humonus asked while looking over.

"I checked the area out for about a mile in every direction. Area's clear."

Humonus replied enthusiastically, "Great! Dinner will be ready in an hour...my top-secret-recipe chicken stew tonight! Oh, and in case you're wondering, the girls are reorganizing the wagon."

"Perfect," Baltor said contentedly before plopping down near the fire and relaxing.

Nearly an hour later, they gorged on the stew in silence, because it turned out to be that delicious. Unfortunately, this food did nothing to quench Baltor's hunger pains. When no one was looking, he tied a strip of cloth under his shirt tight around his clenched-up waist.

After everyone had drunk a few rounds of ale, coupled with some light and pleasant conversations, everyone but Baltor went to sleep in the tent.

All night long, he stayed awake, guarded their camp, went hunting four times for food, took care of his sword, and the horses. The night passed on by without incident. About an hour before sunrise, he cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon in a frying pan on the tripod grill before waking everyone up with the word, "Breakfast!"

Following breakfast, in which Baltor was the only one still famished even though he ate, they broke camp. Once complete, he climbed into the back of the wagon. He next put on his sleeping clothes and hat before falling asleep the very second the sun rose.

As soon as the rest of the group was ready to go, only a minute after the sun had risen on this beautiful day without any clouds, they continued their journey east. Early that evening before sunset, they stopped at another place that Humonus thought looked good to camp.

Sometime after the time they had set up camp yet before Baltor had awoken at his scheduled time—he had a "bizarre dream," but he could not recall any of the details except for one. There was an enormous white bear involved.

Right after sunset, he climbed out the wagon and discovered with shock and horror that Humonus lay on the ground about thirty feet away with his eyes closed. Zooming his vision like binoculars, he noticed several additional layers of clothing wrapped around his chest and back; the girls knelt on either side of him.

Upon seeing the pained expression on Humonus' face, Baltor asked with great concern, "What the hell happened? You all right?" It was only then when he inhaled that he smelled iron in the air.

Humonus slowly opened his eyes, and then just-as-slowly turned his head until facing Baltor. With pain etched into his quiet voice, he began to explain, "While you were asleep about thirty minutes ago, Brishava and Chelsea had left to take a bath in the lagoon located nearby..."

After wincing aloud, he added, "Meanwhile, I was happily roasting a couple of rabbits for our dinner tonight, and stupidly wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."

At this point in Humonus' story, he had to take a long pause because of another painful spasm in his chest!

Chelsea—who had already heard the story—continued, "A giant white bear also smelled the cooking meat. Not even ten minutes ago, it quietly entered the camp directly right behind him, at which point he was turning the skew right next to the fire, and then he said that—"

After putting his hand on Chelsea's arm to silence her, Humonus interrupted, "When I turned around, the bear was on all fours about three feet away from me while the fire pit was only about two feet behind me."

He took another lengthy pause. Just as Chelsea was about to continue in the story, he pointed his index finger up into the air for her to remain silent.

Finally, he said, "In the next moment, I attempted to shoo him away since he was on all fours, but he wouldn't go away. Not more than three seconds later, he decides to get mad at me, probably because I was standing in the way of the food, and then he rears back onto his hind paws, growing to fifteen feet tall while growling viciously at me!"

When Humonus took another lengthy pause, Chelsea did not say anything, nor did anyone else.

He continued, "By this time, I realized that I was in grave danger. I thought I had planned out a good solution to this problem—I was oh so very wrong!"

Upon hearing all of this, Baltor looked stupefied, especially since he heard it from his friend, teacher, and a master thief/warrior, though not technically by the Guild's standards.

When Humonus did not say anything after a dozen seconds had passed, Baltor asked, "What was your plan?"

"My plan," Humonus answered, "was to wait for him to drop down to all fours, figuring that he would charge. And that just before reaching me, I would roll to the right or left, and he would plunge into the fire and burn up—but he didn't do that!"

"What did he do?"

"I kid you not—this bear had arms that were five feet long! It threw one unexpected swipe of his paw into my direction, and my chest shredded open!"

Chelsea gently lifted up the clothing on Humonus' chest.

Baltor saw three bleeding slashes spanning from one side of his chest to the other. The smell of the blood was _deliciously intoxicating!!_

He ever-so-barely resisted the vampire urges by forcibly looking away, not breathing in, and asking, "Where's the bear now?"

"On the far side of the fire pit—dead," Chelsea answered.

Humonus added with weak excitement, "Yeah—I got so mad that I pulled my daggers out of my belt, and then I leaped up at him while swinging both of my daggers up and at him! Only a split-second later, each blade went through each eyeball while plunging deep into his brain, instantly killing him—they did!"

Still fighting the urges, Baltor asked, "Should we go back to Valakan and get you some medical treatment?"

"No, my friend," Humonus answered. "We can do that here. Thankfully, I brought my first-aid kit, located in the back of the wagon. The kit has disinfectant, bandages, and even better, a week's worth of that numbing elixir. Can you get that for me, Chelsea, please?"

"Got ya, babe," she replied before running to their vehicle.

Humonus then said, "After I'm all bandaged up, I'll need some help into the back of the wagon, and so long as whoever's driving the wagon tomorrow goes real slow because it is a very bumpy ride, especially around these mountains...then we can be on our merry way." After his face had winced, he added with a small smile, "Trust me, my friend of friends—I'll be all right."

"Are you sure?" Baltor asked, still not convinced.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Humonus answered confidently.

Cocking his head to the side, Baltor said, "Okay..."

At the same time, Chelsea returned with the kit. Before she could start, Baltor excused himself by saying, "I'll be back, guys. Gonna check the area out. I know you two girls can help him with the medical procedure...right?" What he didn't say was that he needed blood, oh so bad!

Chelsea answered, "Right."

Right away, he left camp so that he could hunt.

Perhaps an hour later, he finally ran across a pack of coyotes—he had no choice but to kill six of them in a row before his stomach stopped grumbling. However, he knew it would start growling again...all too soon.

On his way back to camp, he began to contemplate the possibility of taking his warhorse tonight and galloping her at top speed to the cannibal tribe, perhaps four hundred miles and many weeks away, and feast on one of them. After all, it had long ago been his ingenious plan to use the cannibals as dinner for many years to come—they were all vermin, in his opinion.

However, that plan became squashed upon thinking, _Because neither girl knows how to fight, and Humonus can't fight, I have no choice but to stay and protect everyone. While, of course, continuously resisting the bloodthirsty vampire inside me, which is getting harder and harder to control...why I almost took a bite into his neck tonight!_

After returning, he noticed that the girls had fallen asleep on the ground, perhaps thirteen feet away from the campfire—in turn; he picked each up and lay her down in the tent before pulling guard duty all night long.

The next morning after breakfast Brishava had cooked and served all on her own for the first time, Chelsea changed all of Humonus' bandages in the back of the wagon, noting happily to everyone that the wounds had finally stopped bleeding—now in a soft-scab form. He would survive!

After she had exited the wagon nearly five minutes later, Baltor changed into his pajamas. He forthwith laid down, put the hat and visor on, and fell asleep as the sun rose only seconds later.

A minute or so later, Chelsea began steering the wagon at half the speed while Brishava rode on the warhorse and scouted around; the two men rode in the back and slept. The group continued traveling east.

As the days and nights passed, Humonus slowly became better and stronger; still, due to their slow movement, it took a week and a half before they reached the jungles. By the time they entered, he was almost back to full health, and thus they could ride at a decent speed. Needful to say, nearly every waking moment was torturous for poor Baltor; only his even stronger love for his wife kept him going....

Three days later, Humonus finally regained full mobility without any pain.

That night, Baltor took his nightly disappearance for food. However, unlike the previous times where he hunted in the vicinity on foot, this time he steered his horse through the wide variety of jungle terrains (frequently at a gallop). Somehow, he knew that the cannibals' village lay somewhere nearby to the southeast. _Perhaps fifty or sixty miles away?_

Shortly before midnight, he became quite lucky upon spotting an unsuspecting cannibal guard patrolling the external borders of their territory, perhaps a quarter of a mile away from Baltor's location.

Therefore, he climbed off his horse and tethered her to a tree, ran about a hundred feet, transformed into the vompareus, flew on over, and feasted on the man's blood! At the end of this delicious feast, Baltor felt not only satisfied and powerful, yet for the first time in a very, very long time— _FULL._

Although he felt it was possible to fly anywhere in the universe, he had never forgotten his family, his friends, and even his warhorse and so he transformed back into a human, and rode Grasha back to camp. They arrived a little before four in the morning.

Not surprisingly, Humonus was up and guarding with sword drawn. Upon seeing that it was Baltor, he sheathed his sword before asking, "So...anything to report? _Yawn!_ "

"Nope," Baltor said before dismounting his animal and tethering her to a tree. "Why don't you get yourself some sleep? It's my turn for guard duty anyway."

"Ok, buddy...."

The next morning before sunrise, Baltor whistled a chipper tune as he cooked breakfast of whole-wheat pancakes and sausage for everyone. After all, for the first time in weeks, he was not hungry one iota. Once ready, he woke each person up in turn by handing that person a plate of food that had a fork stuffed into it.

It took another two solid days and nights of traveling, without stopping to camp or taking hardly any breaks, before the group finally reached the borders of Chao-chu-sha-maen.

Nearly an hour after sunset, the group finally arrived at the village's outskirts. Baltor rode in the lead on his warhorse. Humonus steered the wagon while the girls sat beside him.

Upon seeing the huts and the villagers, Baltor hand-signaled for Humonus to halt the wagon—the man did. While keeping a hold of the reins, he dismounted his warhorse and entered the village.

As soon as Humonus, Chelsea, and Brishava stood on their feet on solid ground, they began to follow Baltor while looking all around in amazement, yet for different reasons. For Chelsea, she had never before seen black people before—for Brishava and Humonus, they both had seen black people before, either visiting royalty or their slaves, but never had either seen an entire village of little people...until now!

The villagers instantly remembered Baltor from his first visit, so there was no alarm—just the same curiosity toward these brand-new newcomers, as well to the giant warhorse; the closest type of animal they had seen like this before were zebras. As before, they stopped whatever they were doing and began to follow.

Soon enough, everyone reached the tribal palace—with Baltor still in the lead. About ten feet away from the entryway, he halted while noticing that both guards kept their spears by their sides.

As soon as his friends and wife stood by his side a few moments later, the guards linked their spears across each other, which indicated to him that they would let him pass, but not them. Therefore, he handed the reins to his wife, and saying, "It looks like they're going to let me in their palace...but not any of you, yet. Trust me—you guys will be just fine. I will be back as soon as I can."

After the group had nodded, Baltor began to walk closer to the entrance—the guards pulled back their spears. He entered, turned, and briskly made his way up to the throne room.

At the throne room's entryway, there stood two guards armed with spears. Baltor had no doubt that they would not allow him entry; that is until the King, Queen, or Prince granted permission.

This time, however, those two guards did not cross their spears at all, allowing him to enter the throne room, which he did.

As he walked toward the three thrones, his eyes saw that the King, Queen, and Prince all bore joyful smiles upon their faces.

Once he had neared, Baltor bowed in the same way he had done when he left. When he looked back up a few moments later, he saw that the Prince was now standing up and had begun to use the sign language, drawing the symbol of the tower into the air.

While still kneeling, Baltor proceeded to shake his head from side to side, which indicated the affirmative to them. He pointed his index finger into the air, then his mouth, then at the Prince's mouth, and then said in Pavelian, "How are you doing, Prince Cheo?"

Right away, the Prince looked confused, looked to his parents, and said something in less than five seconds.

Baltor's mind instantly heard the Prince's words interpret into, "I believe he wants me to speak to him. As we've proven, there is no way for him to speak our language or for us to learn his, other than names, drawings, and a crude form of sign language—of course!"

The King asked something in his native tongue, which Baltor's mind interpreted, "Why don't you try saying something to him?"

At this point, Baltor stood onto his feet.

Cheo asked in his language, "So...you found the tower?"

Baltor threw a smile and replied in their tongue, "Yes...I...did."

Everyone in the room except for Baltor threw gasps of shock at the same time!

Once silence filled the room a few moments later, Baltor added, "Your Highnesses, the language barriers that we once had no longer apply. From now on, we can communicate by speech."

More gasps of shock coursed throughout the room.

With a stammer, Cheo was finally able to ask ten seconds later, "How—how did you master our language while you were away, and with no one to teach you?"

Baltor answered evenly, "To answer your question requires understanding a bit of my history, which I will now commence explaining. I am from a city called Pavelus that has a population of around one hundred and twenty thousand—a massive and powerful city that is far, far, far away from here."

Before he had a chance to continue with his briefing, he was interrupted as every one of the villagers excitedly yelled out the word "coo" or the word "caw!"

His mind instantly interpreted that "this custom" was similar to his own of saying "ooh" or "aah" whenever being utterly amazed.

Continuing his briefing only a few seconds after he had stopped, he said, "Now the reason I have traveled such a great distance was to locate the tower that I had found drawn upon an ancient map and retrieve a magical item that is a rod. Though I no longer have this rod in my possession, it magically taught me how to overcome any language barriers, as you guys have just learned."

Again came the "coo" or the "caw;" this time with a mega amount of excitement and happiness that Baltor's mind easily interpreted as cheering.

"Unfortunately," he added, "before I had left the jungles, I also contracted a mysterious illness which prevents me from bearing the sun's rays at all as it burns my eyes and skin, which makes me nocturnal."

This time, the responses from the villagers sounded sympathetic, sad, shocked, or horror-stricken—Baltor's mind did not have to interpret a thing.

With a thoughtful look, the King replied, "I am sorry to hear about your illness, but is it wrong of me to rejoice in the fact that we can now fully communicate?"

"No, your majesty, King Cha—it is not bad for you at all to rejoice. As for my illness, I deal with it as best I can."

The Prince said excitedly, "Welcome back to Chao-chu-sha-maen, my brother! So tell me, and please do not take offense, but is there a particular reason that you have traveled all the way back here so soon, Prince Baltor?"

Baltor's mind did not acknowledge the added title as his mouth explained, "Yes, there is—I have several friends of mine waiting outside. We are on the run from others who wish to take away our happiness, our lovers, and our lives. For a time, we will need a place to stay, perhaps for quite a while." After releasing a sigh, he suggested in the form of a question, "I was hoping that maybe we could stay here if your Highnesses would be so gracious?"

The Queen answered, "Prince Baltor, you and your friends are most welcome here. Since your departure, we all have missed you very greatly!"

Baltor smiled. Suddenly, the added title registered in his brain, yet he still asked doubtfully, "My Queen Che, did I hear you just call me a Prince...or am I misinterpreting your words?"

Instead of her or anyone else answering, the King looked over to a servant and informed, "Allow his friends, and ours, to enter."

The servant bowed just before running out of the throne room, up to the window, and cawing twice to the guards downstairs to allow Baltor's friends to enter.

The Prince walked in front of Baltor, touched his face just below the eye, and then put that pinky upon Baltor's forehead. He asked, "You know that you are also royalty here, right? You and I are brothers."

Baltor looked confused while asking, "What do you mean?"

"We have been soul brothers since the day you left, which officially makes you a Prince by our customs," Cheo informed.

"I did not know that," Baltor said. A smile crossed his lips as he added, "My brother."

The two Princes gave each other a brotherly hug, just as the rest of the group entered the throne room, looking about in wonder and amazement.

"Tell your friends to approach," the King said.

Baltor looked back before saying in Pavelian, "Guys...come on over here. The royalty wishes to meet you."

His wife and friends did; as soon as they stood by his side, they stopped and bowed almost in unison.

"Tell them," the Queen said, "that they are most welcome to stay within our lands for as long as they wish."

Baltor interpreted.

The group expressed their sincerest gratitude, to which Baltor translated.

Following the translation, the King, Queen, and Prince began cocking their heads from side-to-side.

Baltor informed his wife and friends, "By the way...when they make that head gesture, it means yes. When they roll their heads around in a circle, that means no. Okay?"

"Okay," the group answered nearly at the same time.

As Baltor gazed at Brishava for a couple of seconds, a proud smile crossed his face. He next looked back over at the royalty and said in their language, "There is one more part of my history that I need to inform you all."

"What is that?" Cheo asked with curiosity.

"I have since become married, and this," Baltor said. He gestured with his right hand toward his wife before introducing, "This...is my beloved wife, Brishava!"

Even though Brishava could not even begin to understand what her husband had just said in under a second, she assumed that he was introducing her, and so she curtsied toward the thrones.

Cheo looked surprised to hear this information, yet a few seconds later, he said, "Tell Princess Brishava, since she is your wife, that it is an honor to meet her!"

Baltor interpreted. He then explained to the group that he had been designated a Prince in this land and that Brishava was now a Princess here, as well.

For a moment, her face conveyed bewilderment and awe at this additional entitlement, but then she smiled, nodded, and then curtsied before the thrones.

Out of respect, Humonus and Chelsea bowed before "Prince Baltor" and the Princess of two countries, Brishava.

Baltor responded, "My friends, that's not necessary."

Humonus replied right away, "Oh, but it is necessary, your Highness!"

The King declared emphatically, "Tomorrow night, there shall be both a coronation and a celebration for the return of Prince Baltor and his bride, Princess Brishava!"

Many cheers rang out in the room, but Baltor's friends looked around in thorough confusion.

Once the din had quieted a minute later, he translated what the King had just said—in turn, Humonus and Chelsea began to cheer, in which the villagers and even the royalty joined in yet again! Of course, Baltor and Brishava both remained humble and silent. That night, they all partied quite heartily.

The following morning, Baltor slept in his pajamas inside a hut designated for him and his wife. The villagers wasted no time packing a tarry substance onto the outsides of the walls, which would make the room sunlight impenetrable during the day.

Brishava could not take the smell of the substance, so she exited the hut and passed out in the extra bunk in Humonus and Chelsea's hut.

Only moments after sunset the following evening, after Baltor had removed his hat, he saw an old woman enter his hut.

She used the torch in her left hand to light a torch posted about four feet away from the front door.

He sat up in bed before saying in their language, "Good evening."

The villager bowed and replied, "Good evening to you, Prince Baltor. My name is Pa-cheku. So that you know, it has been assigned to me to light the torch in your hut just after sunset every night by King-Cha-Abduja-Chem-Masgaran-Chai. This way you will know that the sun has indeed set."

"Oh," he replied with a cock of his head and a smile. "Well, thank you, Pa-cheku."

"It is my pleasure to serve you, my Prince," she said with a toothless smile before she bowed and exited the hut...

That night, the Kin gave a gold crown and a lengthy ritualistic speech to Baltor and Brishava—in turn—officially making them a Prince and Princess of the Chao-chu-sha-maen village. Following the coronations that took five minutes each person, the partying commenced, lasting the entire night...

The next evening, unusually shaped clouds filled the skies. Just as the sun was about to set, the skies erupted into eight or nine brilliant colors—Baltor still slept, of course.

Suddenly, the villagers began to get super-excited as they dropped to the ground, rolled on their backs, extended their arms and hands into the air, and appeared to be clutching for the very skies!

At the same time, Brishava had just begun eating dinner with Humonus and Chelsea out on the front porch, in which the group of friends commenced to stare confusedly at the spastic villagers. Even more confusing was the moment the colors in the sky had started to fade, the villagers rose to their feet and acted as if nothing at all had happened.

A few minutes later, as soon as Baltor had arrived at their hut, he saw Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea chatting quietly amongst one another.

Humonus looked over and greeted, "Good evening, Your Highness!"

A moment later, the rest of the group greeted similarly.

With a nonchalant wave of the hand, he responded, "Good evening to you all, my friends, but please, just call me Baltor."

Humonus asked, "Say Baltor, can you tell me why the villagers get so worked up whenever the sun is about to set, and the skies are infuriated with colors?"

Baltor laughed as he replied, "I've seen them do this once before, during my last visit here. However, to be honest with you, I have no idea what it means. Let's go ask Prince Cheo, okay?"

"Good idea."

Coincidentally enough, the man himself walked from around the corner of the hut and took a seat at their table. Baltor wasted no time asking him, "We have a question. What's the ritual that you guys do at every colorful sunset?"

"Oh that?" Cheo asked. "This is our way of communicating with our God who shines his beautiful lights upon us! Did you not know that Chao-chu-sha-maen means 'the nation of heavenly lights,' my friend?"

"No, I didn't—thanks," Baltor answered before translating this information to the group.

Because Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea could not learn even the basics of the verbal language, other than shortened versions of peoples' names, Baltor began to teach them the sign language that he and Cheo had already started to expand, along with the rest of the tribe....

For the next couple of months, as the group stayed in the village, there were no incidents to report regarding the cannibals' village, which lay twenty-eight miles to the south.

That is—except for the weekly trips that Baltor would make to quench the beast. He soon gained a new and powerful psychic ability to read minds, amongst his other ones—all but one of his powers lasted three days before they faded away, a power he classified: "interpreting unknown languages."

Two months and five nights after their arrival, however, the cannibal tribe launched a surprise attack, perhaps in retaliation to the mysterious attacks launched upon their members. Unfortunately, the bloodthirsty savages killed fifteen villagers and wounded twenty before they retreated, thanks to Baltor and Humonus' help!

Fortune only smiled on the villagers that it had been a night attack and not a day, or Baltor would not have been able to help, and they might have all lost the battle and their lives.

Thirty minutes after the enemies had retreated home, and the healers were treating the wounded, King Cha called a meeting in the throne room for everyone else, including the group.

Once assembled two minutes later, he declared, "Chao-chu-sha-maen can no longer tolerate these merciless attacks from Conga-chasa-casua-craen. Enough is enough! The time has come for war to be declared!"

Throughout the room, more than a hundred whooping noises erupted from the villagers—Baltor's mind translated that the name of the cannibals' village meant, "The warring gods that dominate over the blood-thirsty gorilla and vulture!"

Once the whooping noises had ceased, Baltor translated the King's message to his Pavelian-speaking friends.

The King waited for Baltor to finish, and then he said, "Tell your friends that our wars are not your wars. You and your friends may stay here if you wish."

As Baltor translated the message to the group, Humonus began stroking his bearded face while he squinted.

Once translated, Humonus pointed his index finger into the sky, and suggested, "Tell King Cha that I have a better plan! What if we—you and I Baltor—train all of the villagers in our fighting style? Give it a year, that's all we'll need, and then we can decimate the cannibals for good! In the meantime, we can also help the villagers to build some defenses around the village, to give us better protection. Ask him."

The plan sounded uncontestable in Baltor's opinion, so he translated the words to the King and Queen and Prince.

The King said, "Tell Humonus that my warriors already know how to fight!"

Baltor replied in the villagers' language, "Not like this." In Pavelian, he barked, "Humonus, face me!"

Humonus did.

"Attack me!"

Humonus threw a full-forced punch at his opponent's face—easily, Baltor evaded the blow, grabbed his opponent's wrist, and twisted. Humonus' body instantly flew over Baltor's just before slamming hard into the ground!

Baltor continued to twist his opponent's wrist a couple of fractions more; that is until the man cried out in pain and slapped his hand hard onto the floor several times!

Baltor released his grip, faced the King, Queen, and Prince, and then bowed—throughout and after the three-second-long demonstration, they all bore amazed and shocked expressions upon their faces. Humonus rose to his feet.

After waving his opened hands around in a circle a few times, Baltor added, "This is but a taste of what we can teach your warriors...in fact, we can show anybody who wants to learn. I started learning this form of martial arts at twelve-years-old."

Several moments of silence passed; the Queen became the first person to ask, "Can we see more, please?"

"Of course, Queen Che," Baltor said with a smile.

For the next half-hour, Baltor and Humonus demonstrated over two dozen techniques of their fighting skills with blinding speeds. As soon as the demonstrations were over, the King, Queen, and Prince all agreed to Humonus' idea.

It took two days of hard work to set up a solid defensive perimeter—also thanks to Humonus' brainstorming. First, they collected an enormous amount of twenty-foot-long bamboo sticks, created spears out of them, and buried one-quarter of the spears into the ground while angling the sharp points in an outwards direction around the entire village, except for the two entrances where they set rotational guards. Next, they built watchtowers at every corner of the wall, in which they set up guards up there.

Once the defenses were all built, Humonus and Baltor wasted no time beginning to teach the villagers how to fight. In total, there were one hundred and twenty-seven villagers that attended night class, ranging from ten to sixty years old, which numbers did not include Brishava and Chelsea who also took classes. The King and Queen, however, were too old, but they loved to watch. During these classes, Humonus would instruct the lessons and the movements; meanwhile, Baltor translated or assisted in whatever ways he could.

When not learning martial arts, eating, partying, or sleeping—everyone (friends, villagers, and royalty) would all come together to learn, enhance, and master the sign language.

After three months had passed, Humonus became good enough where he could teach solely through the art of motion or sign language...

By the end of the year, there were one hundred and thirty-one highly skilled warriors of the Chao-chu-sha-maen tribe, including Baltor, Humonus, Brishava, and Chelsea. In return, the tribe taught the group how to do ventriloquism, the art of casting their voices into other locations.

Thanks to Humonus' homework, "a battle plan" formed that everyone agreed sounded perfect, and the King ordained. The army immediately began preparing for the three-day trip and the upcoming fight; they left just after sunset the following night. Only the King, Queen, all of the children below thirteen, and about a quarter of the women remained behind.

Just before sunrise, the army camped about halfway to the cannibals' village. That day, no incidents or encounters at all occurred while Baltor slept in the back of the wagon—once night arrived, he woke up, hopped onto Grasha, and they all moved on.

At two in the morning, Baltor rode ahead and killed an unsuspecting cannibal guard. With his powers once again in full force, he traveled on his horse back to his forces—he had learned that the vulture-woman had been killed in the battle when he and the Prince had escaped, but the gorilla-man was still alive.

At three in the morning, the three squadrons of thirty troops split up before surrounding the cannibals' village. Cheo led the first unit, Baltor led the second, and Humonus led the final.

At four in the morning, the simulated bird-cries erupted throughout the jungle—the army silently stormed into the village, eliminating anyone that was armed.

Only two minutes had passed until the war was over since most of the cannibals surrendered without a fight. There were only twelve casualties in total—all of them being the enemy. The cannibals that survived were gathered into the center of the village, directly in front of the fire pit.

Without a word spoken, Baltor sliced the gorilla-man's head off before he could react. Once the man was dead, Baltor cocked his head from side-to-side several times at Cheo.

While lifting his hands up into the air, the Prince proclaimed, "Cannibalism shall no longer be allowed! Nor shall attacks be allowed upon my village of Chao-chu-sha-maen! We shall be leaving guards behind to ensure that our rules remain in place. If so much as one of our soldiers gets hurt, we shall decimate you all completely! Do you understand?"

The villagers responded by cocking their heads from side to side. All but fifty of the glorious warriors returned home the following night; those fifty remained behind to guard the village.

It was quite ironic that at the beginning of the first night of their journey back, Baltor only then began to worry about how he was going to survive now that his food sources were gone. Perhaps a minute after the worrying had commenced, however, he saw three large gray bats with extraordinarily huge wings landing at a green bush filled with red berries not too far away.

He asked a nearby tribesman, named Hoo, "Are those bats?"

Hoo answered, "Those are vampire bats, my Prince."

"Vampire bats," Baltor asked with a lot of curiosity, "What are they doing around that bush?"

"They are eating the cah-su-cahn berries. That is why we don't cut them down so that they will not feast on us, my Prince. We believe that's where the cannibals first got the idea."

"Really," Baltor replied just before climbing off his horse. He began to walk closer, but Hoo stuck out his arm to block his path.

With a lot of worry in his voice, Hoo warned, "My Prince, I wouldn't get any closer to them if I was you—they will bite!"

Baltor laughed, "You—you guys go on ahead without me. I'll catch up in a minute. That's an order from your Prince."

He waited until everyone was out of sight before tethering his horse to a nearby tree. He then walked over to the bush, noticing that the giant bats did not pay him the slightest bit of attention. He picked up a berry and chewed on it—it was _wonderfully delicious!_

After eating a dozen more berries, he could tell that the juices were miraculously _quenching his vampiric thirsts_ —only moments later, Baltor realized with _ever-growing joy_ that he would no longer have to be a killer to survive!

Several more months passed while the group stayed hidden away in the massive jungle province of Chao-chu-sha-maen, now consisting of the two villages that had a thousand square miles of land.

During one of those nights, at a bonfire party, Baltor had finally learned the mystery from Cheo as to how he had acquired Baltor's possessions right before he left for the tower long ago.

The day after Baltor's arrival to their village, several kids had been playing in a large pile of dead leaves in their playground, and there they found lying inside—his map, saber, and sheath. Nearly right away, the kids delivered the objects to their parents, who in turn gave them to the Prince. For some unknown reason, Cheo suspected they belonged to Baltor. However, there had never been any sighting of his camel, nor any of his other gear, by anyone of either tribe; Valuspo's fate remained a mystery.

Another mystery that Baltor solved on his own, which he had figured out through experimentation only a few nights before this party, is that if he dried the cah-su-cahn berries and ground them into dust, and then sprinkled the powder into his food or drinks, he quenched his thirsts and hunger. Only one of his powers remained, language comprehension, and that was okay by him.

After all, the more that Baltor and Brishava learned about one another, the more their love flourished and reigned—the power of "True Love." Finally came the day, nearly a year after their arrival, that they became officially married—the Chao-chu-sha-maen way.

And only one day later, Humonus and Chelsea married each other in the same tribal fashion. The group, now a part of the Chao-chu-sha-maen tribe and family, had grown robust and inseparable throughout all of these most wondrous of times...

## CHAPTER XXVIII

Only a minute or so before the sun had set a little more than a year later, upon a particular evening that had partly-cloudy skies—those dull-gray clouds unexpectedly lit themselves up into a dazzling array of beautiful colors and patterns. Pinks, peaches, oranges, purples, yellows, blues (light to dark), and yes, even greens.

As always, this spectacle of nature instantly drew the attention of the villagers and excited them so greatly that they stopped whatever they were doing, dropped to the ground, and began chanting, whooping, and rolling all around on their backs. As their hands and arms remained extended above them reaching for the skies, their fingers continuously opened and shut as if trying to clutch the heavens.

And as for Baltor during this time frame, he remained obliviously asleep on his back, in his bed, and in his hut, as it was still his slumber time. Sleeping next to him in bed but facing the other direction was his wife, Brishava.

As soon as the loud noises of the villagers had begun, however, she awoke from her slumber. But as she understood all-too-well their unique religious customs, she shifted her body close to her husband in bed, placed her head on his shoulder, and drifted right back to sleep.

Precisely one second later—Baltor's sleeping mind commenced having a lucid dream.

At first, he could only see that he stood within a black area of unknown proportions, floating in the middle of the air. Though he saw no sources of light by glancing around, he could see his own body as if he stood in broad daylight.

Right after physically pinching himself to be sure that he wasn't dreaming while surprisingly feeling substance, he began to suspect that maybe he wasn't dreaming at all, but more likely, fully conscious in another dimension.

He looked around one more time and confirmed yet again that there were absolutely no sources of light—or anything else anywhere else. That is, until about a minute after his arrival, just off to his right about fifteen feet away, this sultan-sized bed unexpectedly popped out of nowhere!

As he turned just his head to look over, the first thing about this bed that caught his eyes was the mahogany post located at each of the four corners, which he estimated to be ten feet tall. Also, wrapped around each post were two see-through veils of silk, red and blue, which began at the base and then wrapped their way around until reaching the top, in which the silks passed through a golden hoop and streamed to the post in the opposite corner, forming a loose "x" pattern.

Upon closer examination of the bed's mahogany base, he only then noticed various predator-styled animals etched all over it. A purple velvet blanket, embroidered with dozens of rows of golden diamonds, hung over the bed. Last not but least, though he saw no headboard, he noticed a wide assortment of colorful pillows that someone had neatly arranged at the head, each embroidered with one large golden diamond.

Now, even though this bed was "elegant" in his opinion, he did not see much relevance in it, so he began to look elsewhere to see if anything else would pop out. It does, but not where he was watching at the time when it happens.

Only a short time later, as he glanced again at the bed, he surprisingly saw a thin old man lying under a blanket near the edge of the bed, who looked as if he had been there all along.

As Baltor looked closer with scrunched-up eyes, he saw that this man appeared to be venerable, bearing a few scattered strands of silvery hair upon his head, dark and sunken eyes, a ghostly-white complexion, and skeletal hands and wrists that extend from underneath his purple pajamas. Still, despite this man's venerability, he commenced staring harshly at Baltor, as if peeved off for some reason.

Unexpectedly, the old man tried to sit up by propping his hands into the bed and pushing himself up but failed miserably. Instead of trying a second time, he looked over to Baltor angrily, pointed his bony index finger at him, and growled out the word, " _You_..."

Baltor began to feel electrifying chills running up and down his spine! With each passing second, those chills intensified in degree until they started to get painful to the point he felt like he was being electrocuted to death—and that's when he woke up.

_Did I just have a dream?_ He began to wonder upon hearing two final whooping noises coming from outside, followed by complete silence. At the same time, he felt his wife still sleeping on his shoulder.

Ironically enough, it was then that the door to the hut quietly opened up as Pa-cheku entered, allowing a tiny bit of the twilight to come in.

That light allowed Baltor to see peripherally that Brishava's eyes remained closed and that she looked comfortable.

He then thought with a hint of amusement, _I must've been dreaming, or she would have felt the electrical surges, too_.

Perhaps because of the sliver of light that only then fell onto her eyelids, she released a deep sigh in the next moment.

Pa-cheku threw a sweet smile at Baltor, in which he returned it. She then exited the hut, closing the door behind her.

Once alone, Baltor half-whispered, "Honey?"

"Yes?" she sighed, half in sleep.

"I just had the strangest dream."

"Tell me?"

"Okay," Baltor said. After telling her the dream in precise detail, he added, "I know now that it must have been a dream because you apparently didn't feel a thing. So, what do you suppose it means?"

Brishava shifted her head so that she could look away from the ceiling and directly into her husband's eyes. She then said, "I think that this is the sign, my husband, that we need to head back to Pavelus so that we can claim our thrones." After taking a deep breath through her nose, she said, "If my father dies without me there, the next person to become the Sultan would be my older half-brother, Imperious-Lord Rasta...especially since my dad has forbidden my Uncle Vaspan from ever inheriting the kingdom. Unfortunately, although my brother pretends to be just and noble, he is really just as ruthless and sinister as both my father and uncle."

"But we have a kingdom here, as well," Baltor countered.

"Then let us unite the two countries, my love," Brishava said as she sat up in bed. "But do not fight our destiny, for Pavelus needs us as well—we are Pavelus!"

"But so is Chao-chu-sha-maen," Baltor argued while still lying down.

She replied calmly, "Yes you are right, but we must make our kingdom—not take theirs away from them. Besides, who says that we can't honor them as royal kin whenever they come to our cities...?

"Know this, my husband—I was born as the heiress to the throne of Pavelus, for a reason. We cannot let that reason be for naught. Besides, perhaps I can change even my father's stern mind, especially when he sees just how much love I have for you, my husband! Oh, and even more so when he learns what a brilliant leader you are..."

"You are right, my love," Baltor sighed. "When do you wish to leave?"

After Brishava had playfully snuggled the side of her face into his chest, she suggested, "How about two weeks? That'll give us plenty of time to say our farewells to our wonderful friends—our family!"

"Ok," he said. After a few seconds, he chuckled, "I love you, my Princess!"

"And I love you, my Sultan!"

He realized right away that this to be the first time she had ever called him "sultan," but he said not a word about it as only time would tell what would happen with the actual Sultan.

Several hours later, as soon as they had informed Humonus and Chelsea of the decision to return to Pavelus two weeks hence—they immediately agreed to come along and help.

That night at the campfire, after Baltor had officially announced the group's decision to the villagers, the Prince appeared to expect it as he signed, "Can you guys go on a journey with me before you head home to Pavelus?"

"Sure, my brother. You got it, but as you know, we need to be heading back in two weeks," Baltor signed back.

"I know...my brother," Cheo replied in the language of Pavelian, which indicated that he had been listening and learning when the group spoke to each other in their mother tongue, and that surprised the heck out of them all, too. He then added, "Tomorrow night we go. We'll be back...seven nights...from tomorrow night...okay?" A sheepish smile crossed his face.

"Okay," they all answered back in unison—several different languages, including sign language, were used to deliver this reply. This caused everyone to burst out laughing a moment later from the hilarity of the situation!

The next night, the party of five began to travel straight north. Over the course of the next three and a half nights, they saw several breathtaking sights along the way, including the abrupt addition of jagged mountain peaks ascending hundreds of feet up in the air amongst the thick and lush jungle vegetation.

Continuously, the temperatures remained in the high 90's coupled with thick humidity. The only person who never sweated at all was Baltor.

About two hours before sunrise, Cheo stopped next to a tall bush that bore thick leaves, resting right in front of a cliff face. He then said in his native language, "We're going to need some light to see in here."

"In where?" Baltor asked.

Cheo chuckled a couple of times before answering, "In the cave hidden behind this bush."

Baltor translated Cheo's request to Humonus.

Humonus pulled a torch and some flint out of his backpack and began the process of lighting it. Once lit, a few seconds later, he handed the torch to Cheo.

Carefully keeping the torch flames away from the bush, Cheo walked around it into a small cave with a tunnel at the end of it angling downwards—the rest of the group followed behind.

About fifteen minutes later, and still in the same tunnel that continuously angled downward, the group began to see something glowing a strange gold color far ahead of them.

About two minutes later, the corridor transformed itself into a vast cavern that consisted entirely of pure molten gold, covering the floors, the walls, the stalactites and stalagmites, and even the ceiling!

" _Wow!_ " Chelsea was the first to say in disbelief.

Baltor sighed aloud, "My God. This is unreal!"

Cheo asked in Pavelian, "What is God?"

"God is that which made us all, I guess," Baltor said in sign language. "I just used that phrase as a figure of speech, for I was amazed by the heavenly qualities of this place!"

"Oh...my mind could not initially interpret that Pavelian word, God, but now I do understand. As you already know, we call God, Shava-Tula-Suah-Lakasa-Casusea. We never use God as a figure of speech."

"I see. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Ah, do not apologize to me, my brother. Apologize to God. Come, if you think you were amazed by the divine qualities of this place, wait till you see what lies ahead!"

Cheo wasted no more time leading the group to the far end of the cavern, in which they entered another tunnel leading downwards.

After having passed two other junctions, yet still going straight for another half an hour, they entered another immense cavern.

This breathtaking chamber even had an underground waterfall that cascaded into an underground lagoon. Now, the reason that everyone could see everything so crystal clear—because of the small, medium, large, and even large colored lights reflecting back from a wide assortment of precious crystalline emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and even diamonds!

"Whoa," was the group's response.

Humonus signed, "Do you know how much money this all is worth?"

Cheo signed, "What is money?"

Humonus answered, "Money is used to buy and sell things like food, clothes, homes, whatever."

"I see, as you know, we have no such thing, as we are a utopian society. Do you think that these are worth a lot of money?"

"You have no idea...perhaps billions of parsecs! Perhaps more?"

A smile formed on Cheo's face as he signed, "Really. We did not know that they were valuable—we just liked them because they are pleasing to look at!"

"Aren't they though?" Humonus signed back.

"Perhaps we could establish a trade sometime between our two nations; after all, we have lots of pretty and useful things in Pavelus," Brishava suggested in sign language.

Cheo verbally answered in Pavelian, "Yes, maybe we can."

The group decided to set camp in the cave just near the surface; that is, until the following night.

Immediately after sunset, everyone in the group but Humonus left. He stayed back to conceal all of the tracks; and once finished several minutes later, he ran to catch back up.

After the group had returned to the village three and a half nights later, they partied almost non-stop for the next six days and nights. On the final evening, the group partied while exchanging hundreds of fond farewells with everyone, including King Cha, Queen Che, and Prince Cheo.

During this party, they shared several more ideas about establishing trade between Pavelus and Chao-chu-sha-maen, sometime soon. After the discussions, the celebrating continued until the wee hours of the morning.

They—Baltor, Brishava, Humonus, and Chelsea—all began the journey west the following night. Just before they had left, Baltor hung two large sacks on the outside of the wagon, each bag containing dirt, roots, and a cah-su-cahn bush filled with berries. He figured that he could plant them once they reached Pavelus.

During their trip, which included a month-long stay in Valakan, they even discussed and perfected a strategy on how to get to the Sultan, himself. The plan's conclusion—originated by Yaush—was to simply walk in through the front gates, inform the guards that they had rescued the Sultan's daughter and that they to collect the reward. The guards would have no choice but to bring them before the Sultan. It was in all their greatest hopes that the Sultan would accept Baltor as Brishava's husband.

A little over four months of time had passed until they reached the city walls of Pavelus...

After arriving at the eastern gate, fortune smiled upon them, and the plan worked out great as the guards escorted them to the palace. When the guards informed the Sultan that a group of three people had found his daughter, he was overjoyed, even though he lying on his deathbed.

Because he heard the news that there were others with his Brishava, he commanded that two squads of guards fill his bedroom, just in case things should turn underhanded. The Sultan knew that his Ruling-General Glacius could not attend since the man was training the troops for the upcoming war in the coliseum.

Once the guards escorted the group into the Sultan's bedchambers, Baltor realized this to be the same old man and the same exact bed he had seen in his dreams. However, he was not too surprised at the revelation, nor that guards filled the entire room, either.

Without hindrance, Brishava passed all of the guards before sitting next to her father as he lay down in his bed. Once she had passed, the guards blocked the way leading up to their Sultan.

Sultan Brishavus said sweetly to his daughter, "Oh how I have missed you these last few years, my Breeze."

"I've missed you too, Father," she said before laying her hand on his chest.

After giving his daughter a tender smile, he revealed, "Soon I will die, and the kingdom will become yours and Duke Marlborough of Vispano. I have just dispatched word for you to be married tomorrow. For the last year, he has been eagerly waiting here in Pavelus for your return, my daughter. He has also brought along his best seventy thousand generals, knights, and troops. They are all camped to the north of the city to help protect us from—" A sudden spasm of coughing erupted.

Once the coughing had abated, nearly a minute later, Brishava countered, "But Father...I cannot marry the Duke, for I am already married! I've been married these last couple of years, since shortly after my disappearance. Baltor, my husband, is standing over there." She pointed toward her husband.

"Impossible," the Sultan retaliated without even having looked where she pointed. "You must marry the Duke, or this empire will fall. My brother is already on his way to attack Pavelus—he has even hired several divisions of seafaring mercenaries to assist. So tell me then, who in the hell authenticated your marriage?"

"God did," Brishava answered. "And I will not marry any other man, ever."

The Sultan said, "Let me see this man."

The guards made space so that Baltor could pass, and as he neared the bed, he saw the Sultan try to sit up in bed but fail, point at him, and then heard him growl out the word, " _You..._ "

Precisely what happened in Baltor's dream, as did the electrifying chills that now ran up and down his spine, but this time, he had no doubt he was wide-awake. Despite the chills, he took a deep breath through his nose before replying confidently to his father-in-law, "I am Prince Baltor Elysian."

"Prince? Prince of what? I have never heard that name of Elysian before," the Sultan scoffed. "Where is your kingdom?"

"I am the Prince of Chao-chu-sha-maen."

A myriad of chuckles erupted around the room from the guards.

Brishava snapped, "That's not funny! Quit your laughing."

The guards stopped laughing.

"How many soldiers did you bring with you from Chaoshu, or whatever the hell was the name of that place you just called it?" The Sultan had asked most of his question seriously but found himself bursting out laughing at the end.

Only a moment later, raucous laughter erupted from everyone, except from the small group of friends.

Brishava snapped, "Father!"

Perhaps five seconds later, the Sultan finally squashed his laughing before asking, "Well?"

Through the dissipating laughter from nearly everyone else, Baltor answered, "I brought four warriors back with me, your daughter and myself included. She is very skilled in martial arts. All we will need to do to succeed is to unite and train all the non-disabled citizens of Pavelus in these same martial arts, and then we can handle any foes that come our way, my Sultan—no matter the numbers!"

Upon hearing Baltor's ridiculous solution, the Sultan became enraged as he cried out, "Guards, kill him...in fact, kill them all!"

As the guards drew their swords and began to encircle the bunch, the Sultan quietly said to Brishava, "You will marry the Duke—do you understand me, young lady?"

What the man did not expect was that his only beloved daughter would pluck a small boot knife out, plunge it straight into his heart, and then twist!

His eyes bulged out in surprise and pain, yet without so much as a peeped sound from his lips, he instantaneously died with that look of surprise on his face!

Quickly, Brishava closed her father's lifeless eyes before tucking the knife under the mattress with one hand; with the other, she pulled up both the silky blue sheet and the royal purple blanket until all neatly tucked under her father's neck.

She stood up, turned around, and commanded, "Stop—I order you! The Sultan has just died. As you all well know, I am Brishava, his daughter—the next in line to the throne of Pavelus. In other words, I am now your Sultaness! I command you to stop your attack on my husband and friends!"

The guards stopped their original order to look over to the bed. Despite the fact that all of the guards knew, or found to be true, all of Brishava's words, they also saw that their Sultan's blanket was now forming a small circular pool of blood right over his heart area.

For another few moments, silence reigned in the room as the guards looked around in confusion for their officer-in-charge, General Hawkins. They came to discover that this man was staring at their obviously murdered Sultan, bearing a look of shock on his face.

Though it seemed obvious to all that the one who had been nearest to the Sultan had done the assassinating—there were two reasons for all the confusion, surprise, and shock. One—even though the palace guards did not care for the Sultan and his incredibly obnoxious and mean behaviors—the man was dead. And two, the main reason, most of these guards including their general, had very much come to know and love Princess Brishava since infancy, since they had watched over and protected her—it had never before been like her to hurt even a fly, much less kill her father.

Once Brishava saw the looks shooting her way, she stated, "Yes, it is true that my father has died by my hand, but all present know that his tyrannical ways had to be stopped. Most also know that I have been kind and just for all of my life! Finally yet most importantly, my husband's plan is strategically sound that we can save Pavelus without the Duke or his men! On our own, the Sharia Empire can become glorious."

Hawkins ordered, "Sheath your swords, men."

The guards followed orders.

Brishava pointed at Baltor before adding, "By my marriage with him, this is your soon-to-be Sultan, Prince Baltor Elysian. Kneel before your ruler!"

Again, the guards looked to Hawkins. They observed that he had already gone down onto his knees, and they proceeded to follow suit.

A few moments passed before Brishava looked over at Baltor and noticed that he looked unsure of what to say. Therefore, she commanded, "You may all rise."

Once they had risen, she added, "No one will ever speak of what transpired in this room to anyone—ever. Understand?"

"Yes, Sultaness!"

"Good," she replied with a nod. "Commanding-General Hawkins, before I assign you to secretly dispose of my father's body in the furnace, though we will have a public funeral, I would like to introduce to you all to our new Ruling-General. You will listen and obey every word that this man has to say since he has already successfully demonstrated his skills at training and governing troops to maximum proficiency! General Hawkins, this is Ruling-General Humonus."

Humonus' eyes looked bewildered for a moment, but then the newly promoted ruling- general retained his poker face as he said, "Pleasure to meet you, Commanding-General Hawkins."

Hawkins assumed the position, snapped a salute, and barked, "Ruling-General Humonus—I, and my ranks, are under your command, sir!"

Humonus nodded a few times before replying, "Excellent. Once you have completed the Sultaness' command, I want you to call forth all my other generals, and inform them that we shall conduct a meeting in one hour. I shall need as many statistics as possible...

"How long do we have until Emperor-Sedious Vaspan arrives? How many troops is he bringing along with him? What types of machines of war does he have? How many troops do we have? What types of defenses and offenses do we possess? Etc., etc. Statistics, General Hawkins, statistics."

"Yes, sir!" Hawkins said. He snapped a salute and began to walk toward the door. Just before he had exited the room, he heard Humonus say, "Oh, one more thing, General." Therefore, he stopped, turned around, and asked, "Yes, sir?"

Humonus turned to look at Brishava before asking, "My Sultaness, what are you going to do about the former ruling general? We can't have him wandering about freely, and possibly starting up any revolts, especially now."

She snapped her fingers as she replied, "Excellent point! General Hawkins, I want Glacius tried for his crimes against humanity, I know quite a few that he is personally guilty of; however, I do not want you to arrest him in front of his men..."

She sucked in a deep breath before adding, "Instead, only tell him that the Sultan has commanded his presence—escort him directly to my husband and me with two squads of your most loyal soldiers! When he arrives here, I will personally deliver the order as the Sultaness that he is to be arrested and locked in the dungeon with maximum security."

Hawkins said, "Yes, my Sultaness. However, because of the commands to secretly dispose of the Sultan's body in the furnace, and to locate and bring Glacius here before you, it'll take me at least a few hours to have all the other generals tabulate statistics for you, Ruling-General Humonus."

Humonus asked, "How much time will you need, General?"

"I can get everything done in two hours, sir."

Humonus said, "Done."

Hawkins snapped another salute, delivered a bow, and then left the room; the two troops that had just finished wrapping up the Sultan's body in the blanket followed.

Once the double doors had closed, Chelsea looked over at Brishava before asking, "My Sultaness, which bedroom would you like my husband and me to stay in tonight?"

Brishava answered, "Ask the guards posted outside to direct you to the nearest spare bedroom on this floor. Make sure they let me know which room you'll be staying in, so it'll be easy for me to find you, okay?"

Chelsea answered, "No problem and thanks."

Humonus added, "I will most likely be very busy with the generals soon enough, so I wish to spend a little quality time with my wife first, if that's okay with you, my Sultaness?"

Brishava lightly laughed and said, "Go right ahead."

Humonus looked at Baltor, and added with a look of remembrance, "Oh, Prince Baltor, I have a present for you when the time is right."

With a curious expression on his face, Baltor asked, "What is it?"

"You'll soon see," Humonus said with a small smile, which became reflected in Chelsea's smile—obvious to Baltor, she knew what that present was. A second later, she and her husband left the room.

"Guards," Baltor said, "I want you to wait outside for a minute as I need to speak to your Sultaness all alone. I will let you know when you can come back in."

"Yes, Prince Baltor!"

Once alone, his smile disappeared before he stated incredulously, "I can't believe you murdered your own father!"

As she stared back into his eyes, evenly yet softly, she replied in the same tone of voice as her eyes showed, "Yes, I did. I did murder him." Her eyes cast to the ground as she added, "Remember when you first came here to this palace to assassinate my father, and we bumped into each other? Remember the following conversations we had?"

"Of course I do, but—"

She looked back up and interrupted, "Well, everything you said about him was and has been true. You told me that he is a tyrant who needed to be stopped—but that is not the sole reason I killed him now. There are several others. For one, he has never respected my thoughts and opinions, ever! For two, you are my husband, and I will never have another! But the third and main reason is that we can save Pavelus without the Duke's men, and make the Sharia Empire truly glorious!"

He said nothing, though his eyes continued to squint in contemplation.

After a short pause, she added, "I hope and pray that you don't think of me differently now, do you?"

He shook his head a few times before he answered, "No, I'm just quite a bit surprised! What's to stop you from plunging a dagger into me?"

She breathed out a light laugh as she drew near her husband, wrapped her arms around his waist, looked deep into his eyes, and innocently said, "Just don't be a tyrant, is all."

As he looked back into her eyes, he inhaled deeply before saying, "No problem there." He wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her tight into his body and hugging her.

A few moments later, as another thought popped into his head, he asked, "So, where are we going to sleep? I don't think it wise to sleep in here with the balcony and windows."

"Hmmm?" she hummed as if she had awoken from slumber.

He leaned back from the embrace, and asked, "Where should we sleep?"

"Oh. I think it wise if we get a bedroom without windows; that is until we can have curtains made to block out the light in here during the day. In fact, why don't we just get this whole room remodeled, my husband?"

He cocked his head to the side, smiled, and replied, "Good idea, my wife." As another question formed in his mind, he asked, "Oh—where do you think we should plant my bushes?"

"I'll make sure they're well taken care of first thing in the morning, under constant guard of course. I'll also ensure that our cooks put the dried powder into a seasoning shaker."

"You really do have every little thing covered, don't you?"

"Of course," she replied with a giggle.

He affirmed, "I love you!"

"I love you too, my Sultan!"

"My Sultaness," he whispered before delivering a gentle kiss on his lips. He took a couple of steps back before ordering, "Guards, you can come back in!"

The guards posted outside opened the double doors, in which two squads of guards entered.

Once they stood in formation inside the room, Baltor added, "Ensure you protect the Princess with your life, no matter what happens. Understand?"

"Yes, Prince!" they responded.

Everyone only had to wait about twenty minutes before Hawkins and Glacius arrived. To make a long and dramatic story short; after Brishava had ordered Glacius's arrest right away while presenting all of the charges, the man pleaded his innocence by stating that if he didn't follow the commands of the Sultan, he would be executed. Brishava, in turn, promised a speedy trial; for now, she ordered the guards to incarcerate him in the dungeon with maximum security. The guards, in turn, bound him in handcuffs and escorted the still-pleading Glacius to the cell with Hawkins in the lead.

Soon after, Baltor and Brishava moved into a guest bedroom without windows, at which point she fell asleep with her head upon his chest. Though he stayed awake all night long staring at the ceiling as he thought about all the major events of his life leading him to become a Prince of Chao-chu-sha-maen and the Sultan of the Sharia Empire, he neither minded nor moved.

Come morning, just after he had fallen asleep, Brishava woke up, after which six handmaidens bathed her and dressed her up in an elegant yellow dress that had small silky red embroidered flowers hemmed chaotically abroad, from top to bottom. The girls had even pulled her hair into a tight weave that wrapped itself back into the diamond-encrusted crown, which rested upon her head.

Once complete, she entered the throne room and took her place upon the throne. Long story short, her first decree regarded the berry bushes, in which the gardeners needed to plant them in the botanical gardens, and guards needed to protect them on a twenty-four-hour basis. Only she, her husband, the gardeners, and the cooks shall ever be allowed to enter the area and to pluck the berries so that they could be dried into a powder, and then placed into their about-to-be Sultan's seasoning shaker.

Her second decree regarded the harem room on the top floor of the palace, and the dozens of girls who resided there. The harem girls were to be given real jobs within the palace, as well quarters with the other servants. As for the harem room itself, Brishava suggested that it be transformed into a recreation room one day, but not for a long while as they had many more important tasks to consider.

Her third decree regarded the coronation ceremony at eight-thirty that night. She spent a little more than an hour giving all the specifics she wanted for this "significant event" to the Chief Foreman. This twenty-something-year-old man—handsome, well mannered, and well dressed—went by the name of Jamar.

Just as Jamar was about to exit the throne room to execute her orders, Brishava called out, "Jamar? Can you please ensure that the invitations get sent out to all the nobles of Pavelus, A.S.A.P.? Can you also please ensure that you do not forget to mention in the letters that the coronation ceremony is to be held at 8:30 p.m., for which only the nobles and senior-ranking officers are invited to attend the ritual? Furthermore, don't forget that the official welcoming of the new Sultan and Sultaness commences at nine-thirty, for which all the citizens of Pavelus will need to be notified so that they can attend? Understand?"

With a confident smile on his face, Jamar replied evenly, "I will not let you down, your Highness. Let me assure you that I have every last specification you said already pictured in my mind's eye—you and the Sultan will not be disappointed."

Brishava smiled in genuine appreciation before replying, "Thanks, Jamar."

Jamar bowed before leaving, already in the process of turning all of his pictures into reality.

Not even ten seconds later, she spotted Humonus, who she saw had just entered the throne room. Without hesitation, she greeted, "Ruling-General Humonus—what perfect timing for you to arrive! I can assure you that I will only need a minute of your time, as I know that you are an incredibly busy man."

Humonus bowed low for a second before asking, "Yes, my Sultaness?"

Brishava answered, "Please ensure that only those nobles' names written on the first of two pages—which pages Chief Foreman Jamar shall deliver to you upon completion in the next couple of hours—be allowed to enter the palace itself at seven tonight. Anybody blacklisted will have their names written on the second page. Precisely at nine, I want all of the city's inner gates, including the palace gates, opened. From what I understand, this will be the first time the palace grounds have been open to the public since her construction five and a half centuries ago!"

"Finally yet most importantly," she concluded, "Since I know you are brand new to your job, please double all the guards in and around the palace, so that my husband and I are kept safe. Understand?"

"Yes, my Sultaness," Humonus replied with a bow, "your wish is my command." He then left to carry out her orders.

After his departure, she ordered an aide to find the Duke of Vispano and politely invite him to the throne room; the messenger left to carry out the order.

About thirty minutes later, Jamar was the next person to arrive. He delivered the report that the total cost would be about nine million parsecs. Finally, he mentioned that the treasury held over sixty-nine million parsecs, which did not include her family's treasures.

Without hesitation, Brishava nodded and with a pleased smile. Jamar bowed again and left to get things rolling.

Not even two minutes after Jamar had left; the Duke Marlborough of Vispano and a dozen of his top commanders arrived.

After waving his hand flamboyantly outwards, the Duke began with a very pleased smile on his face, "Princess Brishava—how nice it is for you to return."

"Thank you. It is good to be back, Duke Marlborough."

After looking around the throne room just to be sure, Marlborough's face straightened out as he asked, "So, where is your father?"

Without emotion or explanation, Brishava replied, "He died last night."

He asked with a bit of shock to his voice, "Really?" Now with sympathy to his voice, he quickly added, "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Me too."

The Duke's bushy eyebrows rose sharply just before his thin-lipped mouth asked, "So... I understand that you must be in a state of mourning with your father gone...but are we to be still married tonight, as was the word dispatched to me by his messenger last night?"

"Well...actually...no. Here's the situation: My father never knew until just moments before he died last night that I have been married these last few years to a man I love with all my mind, heart, and soul; a man with royal blood named Prince Baltor Elysian."

Although a look of agitation crossed his face, he replied slowly, "Prince...Baltor...Elysian... I have never heard of this man."

"Though you've never heard of my husband, Duke Marlborough, this does not change the fact that he is a ruler of a kingdom far to the east on the opposite side of this continent, and my husband."

After glancing all around the throne room, but seeing no men wearing any crowns, the Duke asked, "Where is this Prince now, and what kingdom does he rule, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Of course I don't mind you asking. My husband is sleeping now, as he is quite weary from our long, long, long journey back home. He is the Prince of a kingdom that lies about a thousand miles to the east, called Chao-chu-sha-maen."

Now bearing a clear look of anger on his face, the Duke growled, "I see.... Well, it would have been nice to know this information before I transported seventy thousand of my best knights nearly six hundred miles around the continent to get here almost a year ago, needlessly!" His tone transformed from growling to whining as he added, "Even worse, I waited for many years to marry the girl of my dreams, you, only to painfully find out just now that my betrothed is already married!"

Brishava sucked in a deep breath through her mouth before replying with sympathy, "I understand that you're upset, my Duke, so let me ask you this question. What will it cost me so that we can continue our trade and peace between our two great nations?"

"Hmmm. That's a tough one. How about ten million parsecs?"

"Ten million?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. Would you like me to go over every last item of what I'm going to be missing out on, especially you?"

"Fine. You can have your ten million."

"Excellent—I'm now confident that the Sharia Empire and Vispano Province will continue with our trade and peace," the Duke said with a pleased smile.

"See my treasurer on the way out, and have a good day, my Duke," Brishava replied, bearing a forced political smile on her face.

The Duke nodded before exiting the throne room. Once he had collected his money from the treasurer, he departed Pavelus via horseback to meet up with his seventy thousand troops camped to the north of the city. By that afternoon, they had all begun traveling north to the borders of Vispano.

For just about the entire day, Brishava kept busy by micromanaging the transformation of the throne room into the coronation room—she wanted everything perfect.

Just after sunset and without having experienced any dreams, Baltor returned to consciousness. Before he had opened his eyes, he felt a soft bed under his body and an even more delicate woman's face lying on his stomach, coupled with her just-as-soft hair that splashed like a waterfall from his torso and onto the bed—based on his experiences, he presumed this head belonged to his wife.

After opening his eyes a second later, his suspicions were instantly confirmed—Brishava had been intensely studying his face while he slept, as she so very often liked to do.

Right away, she gave him a quick peck on his stomach before looking back up and cooing, "Good evening to you, my husband."

While releasing a deep sigh, he replied, "Good evening, my wife!"

She said, "I have some fantastic news to share with you."

"Yes, my love, what is it?"

After sitting up, she answered with excitement growing in her voice, "Tonight, we are to be officially crowned the new Sultan and Sultaness of the Sharia Empire! Following that there will be two back-to-back ceremonies—the first to be formally introduced to our subjects, and the second for the nobles—the whole city of Pavelus will be celebrating here at the palace tonight!"

He asked, "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she promised. "I will teach you how to make things work for you on much broader scales, my love."

He said emphatically, "That's great!" As a curious expression quickly grew on his face, he asked, "So did you talk to Humonus at all today?"

She nodded her head a single time before answering, "Yes I did. Ruling-General Humonus reported to me about a half an hour ago that he had just received an urgent report from the advanced naval scouts. That report stated that my uncle now has six divisions of troops under his command, more than one hundred and twenty thousand men! Per the scouts, they left Mauritia three weeks ago—on foot, on horse, or on ship—and in three to four weeks, they are expected to arrive here at Pavelus..."

She sucked in a deep breath before adding, "This gives us very little time to prepare, and certainly not enough time to hire any mercenary divisions ourselves. I have already hired out the services of dozens of merchant companies to dispatch ships to other cities and request for mercenaries and volunteers."

"I see," he said.

She nodded her head one time before continuing her briefing, "Basically, as our troop count stands now versus theirs, we are outnumbered three to one—we have a little over forty thousand soldiers—both army and navy. Even though the strong fortifications to our outer walls will stop them for quite awhile—perhaps a month—it will not stop them forever because they have hundreds of siege and catapulting machines."

She paused for a few seconds so that he could digest that information. She then added, "While half of our naval fleet is continuing to protect the harbor, the other half has already been dispatched to retrieve ten thousand soldiers from Lasparus—half of the troops currently stationed in our other city. Unfortunately, they won't be arriving here until but a few days before Uncle Vaspan and his army."

"So, therefore," she concluded, "it is in my hopes and prayers that we shall be able to recruit citizens with the promise of payment and training. After I have formally introduced you to the people of Pavelus at nine-thirty tonight, I want you to be straight with them and tell them of the upcoming attack, and to call for their assistance in defending the city. Speak from the heart—got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She gently kissed her husband's chest before she smiled and sighed, "Good. Before we get ready for our coronations, let's have fun first!"

She began to giggle; he growled with desire....

An hour later, after the two had even shared a nice bubble bath together, they finally went their separate ways. He now blankly allowed himself to become dressed, tailored, and groomed by six assistants in the master bedroom, while she was similarly taken care of in her dressing room by six handmaidens.

Once Baltor's aides had completed with their multitude of tasks, they bowed. The supervisor asked, "Are you pleased, Your Majesty, with the way you look?"

Only then did Baltor begin to gaze closely at his reflection in the mirror. The first thing to catch his attention was the prince-tribal crown now secured on his head; the second was his grandfather's sword attached to the sheath on his belt. The third and fourth things were his two very precious necklaces. Despite the multiple complaints from all his assistants to take them off, Baltor won the argument in the end.

As for the rest of his _royal attire_ , they had perfectly tailored his purple, gold, and blue-striped shirt made of silk, as well his silky black pants that had a golden-stripe going down the outside hem. At knee-level, they crisply folded those pants before tucking them inside his shiny black boots, bearing a vertical-stripe made of actual gold that lined up with the stripe on his trousers.

Next, he gazed at his hair, shockingly noting that it was no longer long and straight, but short and very wavy since they had also cut it to shoulder length. His gaze next looked at just his face, observing that his braided goatee was thankfully still there, yet one of the assistants had drawn a crisp line using black eyeliner right around his eyelids, which made his eyes and face look all that much more "hawkish!"

"Well, Your Majesty?" the supervisor asked.

"Umm," Baltor said with a small smile, "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said with a smile just before delivering a final bow and leaving with his assistants.

Only seconds had passed before Humonus entered the bedroom; though he wore the formal uniform of a ruling-general, he said rather casually, "My friend—you look good!"

"Thank you...as do you!"

After nodding appreciatively one time, Humonus' smile faded as he said, "The time is nearly at hand for me to escort you to the throne room, where you shall be officially crowned the Sultan of the Sharia Empire! When I first met you, you were nothing but an orphaned boy, and I never expected anything like this to happen...but here we are. Before we do all of this, I, Humonus, have a gift for you Baltor—friend to friend—come with me, please?"

Looking surprised, Baltor nodded his head, delivered a smile, and began to follow Humonus out the doors—though a dozen guards followed the pair to Humonus' unguarded bedroom down the hall and to the right, they stayed outside as the two entered the room.

Once the guards had shut the doors, Humonus turned around and said, "Now, close your eyes."

Baltor closed them. Thus, he could not see as Humonus walked over to the bed, slid _something_ out from underneath the mattress, and then walked back with that _something_ in his hands.

Nearly a minute later, Humonus finally said, "Open them, and surprise."

Baltor opened his eyes, and his mouth dropped open in shock—for, within Humonus' extended hands, he held a duplicate sword.

In shock, Baltor exclaimed, "No way!" His hand unconsciously strayed to the handle of his sword just to make sure it was still there—it was. Nearly a half-minute later, Baltor finally stammered, "How—how on earth did you have that made?"

"I'll tell you the whole story later. For now, let's just say that I have a very-well-trained eye! Take it. It's yours, my friend."

Baltor took the sword, and examined it even closer—it even felt the same weight. Just to be sure, he pulled the first sword out, and confirmed that every single detail on both swords was "perfectly identical." He could only ask, "How in the heavens?"

Humonus smiled before asking, "Do you like it?"

"I—I love it, my friend...thank you," he answered. He set both swords down on the bed before giving his friend a strong hug of gratitude.

"Oh, I also have an identical sheath like the one you have on your belt right now, but I also made the designs so that you can sheath your swords on your back—my friend and my Prince," Humonus stated just before pulling away from the embrace. After he had picked up a duplicate sheath from on top of the table, he handed it over while adding, "It appears that the leader has become the follower!"

Even though Baltor laughed a few times, he attached the sheath onto the other side of his belt.

Humonus did not laugh whatsoever as he delicately picked up both swords by the handles off the bed, and flipped them around in one quick movement so that he now gripped the sides of the paper-thin blades—he extended the handles toward Baltor.

Once Baltor gripped both swords by their handles, Humonus placed his hands to his sides.

Still smiling ear-to-ear, Baltor sheathed both swords in one quick movement. His right hand clasped firmly onto his friend's left shoulder just before he said with a whole lot of appreciation, "Thank you very much, my best friend."

Instantly, Humonus snapped to the position of attention, threw his crispest salute, and declared, "The time for your crowning has come—my best friend, my Prince of two nations, and my about-to-be Sultan of the Sharia Empire!"

Baltor glanced over to the mirror for another moment. Upon seeing that everything looked in order, he looked back at Humonus and said just above a whisper, "Yes, it has, Ruling-General, yes, it has!"

After an affirming nod, Humonus released his salute, performed a right face, and walked to the bedroom doors—Baltor followed.

Ten seconds later, Humonus called out, "Open the doors!"

Simultaneously, two of the guards standing out in the hallway opened the two doors.

With Baltor and Humonus marching in the middle of the platoon of guards, they made their way down several hallways until arriving at the staircase. After descending, they traveled down the final hallway that led to the double doors of the throne room—doors made of pure gold with large diamond doorknobs. In the middle of each door was the carving of a curvy saber. Not surprising, Brishava stood in the center of this hallway, along with a platoon of her guards who surrounded her.

Upon arrival, the guards automatically shuffled around, so their leaders could unite at the entryway.

Once together, Brishava gently reminded everybody, "Just remember that you'll each be called in turn to enter the room by the Justice of the Peace—you first Ruling-General, then me, then you, my Sultan. Before we get crowned in turn—me first—in front of the nobles and officers, my love, we have certain oaths that we will have to swear to; once you and I are both crowned, we sit on our thrones at the same time. Trust me that this coronation ceremony will be long and tedious, not unlike a wedding. And at the end, about an hour from now, only you and I, my love, will be standing out here in this hallway. Oh, and of course our guards." After inhaling deeply, she concluded, "Right after that, I have some essential errands to take care of, so just head on down to our bedroom and wait for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Just then, the trumpets blew as the ceremony began—this turned out to be a very elaborate ritual that lasted exactly an hour. It appeared that Jamar the coordinator had every reason to be as confident as he claimed, as all the "t's" were crossed and all the "i's" were dotted.

Following the ceremony, in which they now stood once more in the hallway, Brishava gave her husband a quick kiss before saying, "Love ya. Gotta go."

With that, she left for another part of the palace with a platoon of guards. Meanwhile, Baltor and another platoon made their way back to the bedroom with the balcony.

Once inside the room and all alone, as the platoon had returned to their other duty posts, he heard the sounds of tens of thousands of people talking outside.

When he peeked outside past the balcony, he first noticed the night sky above before it came to be the palace grounds, packed with tons of people. A little nervous, he snuck into the back parts of his bedroom, sat on a comfortable couch, and waited for his friends and-or his wife.

Only a minute later, Humonus entered the room. After the guards had closed the doors behind him, he snapped a sharp salute, and said just as sharply, "Good evening, my Sultan!"

"Humonus, when we are alone, please just call me Baltor."

"As you command, Baltor," Humonus replied at a reasonable volume.

Baltor cocked his head toward the balcony for a second before saying, "I must confess that I'm a bit nervous, my friend."

Humonus declared, "We all get nervous, Baltor. Use those nerves and make them steel—that is what shall make you truly dominant! Show Pavelus you are her Emperor, and Pavelus will be yours! Show the world you are her Sultan, and the world will become your Empire!"

Just then, Baltor became surprised for but a moment as Brishava seemingly came out from nowhere while saying, "Ruling-General Humonus is both correct and wise. So, my Husband and Sultan, are you ready to meet your subjects?"

Baltor happily noticed that his wife had not changed her appearance a bit since he last saw her. She still wore that beautiful green silky dress, filled with course with genuine diamonds and emeralds running along dozens of vertical seams on her bodice and arms. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she wore a thin platinum crown stuffed with diamonds and emeralds.

The one thing above all else that grabbed his attention was her adorable face—light-green eye-shadow around her doe-brown eyes, and glossy red lipstick on her thick, luscious lips. In Baltor's opinion, she looked like a beautiful porcelain doll.

After giving him the sweetest smile, Brishava asked her earlier question, "Are you ready to meet your subjects, my gorgeous Sultan?"

Baltor stood to his feet, cleared his throat, returned the smile, and then said, "Yes, I am, my Sultaness."

She turned to the guards stationed at the doors, commanding, "Allow Ruksha to enter so that he can make the royal announcement."

Without a word, each guard opened his door.

A man—who appeared to be in his late fifties and regally dressed—entered the room. He slowly bowed upon hands and knees.

Brishava commanded, "Ruksha, you may rise and call me out."

Ruksha slowly rose to his feet, because his knees were bad, yet declared with enthusiasm to his voice, "Yes, my Sultaness!"

As soon as he had stepped out onto the balcony, dozens of trumpeters began to play the royal anthem, quieting the crowds.

After the tune had ended, Ruksha proclaimed with pride, "Citizens and soldiers of Pavelus.... It is my privilege and honor to introduce to you the firstborn daughter and Princess of Sultan Brishavus Helenus, who sadly passed away last night. Please welcome our new Sultaness of the Sharia Empire—her married name is Sultaness Brishava Elysian!"

The crowds instantly took to their "Sultaness" as she stepped out onto the balcony, for a myriad of cheering and applause erupted; she waved her hands out joyously to the people!

Once the people had settled down, she proclaimed, "First of all my beloved citizens, you should know that the time of my father's cruel and unjust reign is over!"

Again, the crowds broke out into cheering and applause!

Once settled, several minutes later, the Sultaness proudly introduced, "And now, it is my honor to introduce my husband, the new Sultan of the Sharia Empire—his name is Sultan Baltor Elysian."

This time, silence reigned in the city except for the chirping of crickets, for the citizens became fearful that their "new Sultan" might ultimately turn out to be a tyrant like all the others for the last five centuries.

Baltor cocked his head over to look into the mirror one last time. Not only did he see his present and his past, yet his future—a future cast in the present. He now knew what he needed to be—his nerves became as steely as the swords on his back—his eyes darted forward—his feet walked onto the balcony.

As soon as he stood to Brishava's right, he halted. In that same moment, his mind somehow tabulated that nearly the entire population of Pavelus had attended, one hundred twenty-two thousand, five hundred and seventy-seven people—approximately two-thirds of them consisted of the nobles and citizens while the final third were soldiers and sailors. Only thirty thousand people had been admitted inside the palace grounds (nobles and officers first) by the palace guards—"First come, first enter." The remainder stood outside the palace walls, and all about the surrounding streets for about two miles every direction, in which these streets had been set up with elegant party decorations and hundreds of drink and-or food stands.

With a lightning-quick flick of Baltor's wrists, his swords crossed each other above his head and toward the heavens, as he proclaimed, "I have been officially crowned your Sultan, though not too long ago, I was once a peasant...

"Please listen to my words of warning, or of wisdom, your choice. As I speak, more than one hundred and twenty thousand enemy soldiers are making their way toward Pavelus—by land and by sea—led none other than by Emperor-Sedious Vaspan. They will plunder us of all our riches until bone dry, and they will make all our women and children their slaves—the men will be executed...

"Unfortunate for us all, with my forces alone, we are currently outnumbered three to one—so the time's come for me to ask for volunteers. We will pay you just the same as my regular foot soldiers—you will be trained by the best of the best, I swear to that on my honor!"

Baltor took a deep breath before promising, "Those who can't fight—we shall provide you with a haven within Pavelus' strong defenses, or you may attempt an escape on your own, by land or by sea, if you so wish."

A few moments later, he sheathed his swords in one quick motion, thrust his open-palmed hands out to the crowds, and suggested with fervency, "But consider this option for a minute. Declare me your Sultan and fight with me, and I will lead you all toward successes that are beyond imagination. Believe me; it is my intention to pave the entire streets of Pavelus with gold, even if it means that the walls of this palace become the very material used to build them...

"So who amongst you shall hail me... _your Sultan_?!"

THE END

Of Book I

## VALAKANESE TRANSLATIONS

1) "Kid—are you okay?"

2) "I think he's still out cold—boy, was that kid really lucky I saw him when I did, or he'd be cat chow!"

3) "Kid—are you okay?"

4) "I'm glad to see that the kid's going to survive!"

5) "Lie down."

6) "Are you hungry?"

7) "Are you feeling better this morning, kid?"

8) "If he can talk, then that is definitely a sign of improvement!"

9) "Follow me!"

10) "Oopsy-daisy."

11) "Baltor, please follow me, friend. Follow me—follow!"

12) "I see Baltor."

13) "I see saber tooth tiger."

14) "I shot saber tooth tiger."

15) "I killed saber tooth tiger."

16) "Thank you."

17) "You are welcome, Baltor."

18) "Good morning to you, Valuspo! My, you are such a beautiful creature, and so strong and powerful!"

19) "Follow me, Baltor."

20) "Yes, Baltor."

21) "No."

22) "Hungry?"

23) "Honey, do we have anything to eat for Baltor? He's hungry, Jimnee."

24) "Sorry no, I've been very busy making these fur coats for him and his animal.

25) "Yaush, why don't you take him to _Starving Bear_?"

26) "You are welcome, Baltor."

27) "Follow me, Baltor."

28) "Good morning to you."

29) "Everyone, this is my new friend, Baltor! Baltor, these are all my good friends!"

30) "Good morning to you, Baltor!"

31) "Baltor, sit."

32) "Good morning to you, Yaush!"

33) "And good morning to you, Yeea."

34) "How is Jimnee?"

35) "She is great—thanks for asking!"

36) "Good morning to you, Baltor."

37) "So Yaush, what can I get you and your friend for breakfast?"

38) "Can we please have two orders of omelets, eggs and sausage, along with some alasvo juice, please?"

39) "Sure thing!"

40) "Salami my old friend, will you please join us for breakfast?"

41) "Salami, this is my new friend, Baltor. It appears that my friend can speak quite a few other languages, though he cannot speak Valakanese. I, being a simple local hunter, can only speak our native tongue. Will you please try and see if you can speak any of his languages, my friend?"

42) "Yeea. One second, please?"

43) "Yes?"

44) "Salami, what would you like for breakfast?"

45) "I'll have what they're having."

46) "Sure thing."

47) "Salami, can you please ask Baltor what brought him to Valakan?"

48) "Thank you, Yaush."

49) "Good morning, my friends. I have a serious question for you all—were you guys by chance laughing at Yeea?"

50) "Absolutely not, Paelsho. My friend, the only thing we were laughing about was our own silliness—that's all, I swear! Where is Yeea now, so I can explain to her about the misunderstanding, and apologize?"

51) "I let her go for the morning. Yeea seemed so convinced, and shaken up, that you guys were laughing at her—that she was literally in tears when she gave me Salami's order! Just so you know, I didn't believe a word of it to be true, as I've known you two gentlemen for many-many years, and we all know how women can be at times—emotional wrecks!"

52) "We must also apologize for the inconvenience it has cost you as well, Paelsho—apology accepted?"

53) "Ahhh, don't worry about it—breakfast's crowds almost gone anyway. Oh, don't worry about Yeea either—I'll explain the misunderstanding and extend the apology when she comes back this afternoon. She'll be just fine! Come back soon, friends."

54) "Thank you, Paelsho."

55) "God speed!"

## CHAO-CHU-SHA-MAEN TRANSLATIONS

56) "Follow me!"

57) "Let him pass."

58) "Father and mother, our attack on the cannibals of Cheu-sha failed miserably—they were somehow ready for us and launched their own surprise attack while we were camped the night before! Those not instantly killed or able to escape were taken prisoner, including myself. Even though I was next on the list to become sacrificed that very night, this man who now stands behind me fought valiantly for his escape, but there were too many of them on him—he took my spot as the next to be sacrificed. Just as the high priest was about to stab his tusk into this man's chest, his heart removed, eaten, and tossed into the fire, our rescuers arrived and saved the day."

59) "Had it not been for this man who now stands before me, I would have been sacrificed, and not be alive now. I shall forever be grateful to this man who is now my brother..."

60) "Come, come."

61) "Allow this young man to pass."

62) "Come, come."

63) "Stop."

64) "This man has the heart and strength of a tiger!"

65) "It is my command that everyone but my wife, my son, and this man who is now a hero, leave my throne room. "

66) "That tiger desperately needs a bath, as you do. By the way, I love you, my son."

67) "Servant girls, we need your assistance."

68) "The black tower—that is taboo! No—no!"

69) "No, no, please don't draw this picture again—very bad luck!"

70) "Escort this Prince by royal procession to the black tower."

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When the author, J. Eric Booker, is not creating his literary or musical masterpieces upon "cloud 9," which is seldom, he and his best friends make music in their recording studio. Their band is named 747. Despite the fact that J. Eric Booker hasn't attended a single day of college, it is in his belief that although an education is important, it is not the crux of writing or music—it is the imagination and the determination.

To learn more about the author, please check out his websites:

www.jericbooker.com

www.soundcloud.com/e-main-1

Twitter: @E_Man777

Instagram: e_boss_1

Amazon.com: J. Eric Booker

Barnesandnoble.com: J. Eric Booker

Smashwords.com: J. Eric Booker

And please don't forget to rate and review his books...thanks!

## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I'd like to thank my wonderful family!

I'd also like to thank:

Brenton P. Wilson, Loreen Engel-Wilson, Inge Engel

Brian Kuhn

Dave Barr

Dave Jones

Dr. Bruce R. Booker (Copyeditor)

Dr. Joel Bolton

Dr. Masaaki Hatsumi (Soke)

Dr. T

Em Petrova (Editor)

Eric Ondoy

Eric Smolich

General (retired) Patrick E. Rea

George Craig

Griffin Kisner

Henry Miller

James Clausen

Jamie Caldwell

Janice Korzik

Jason Williams

JT, Geo and Jeanty Etienne

Liz and Trinity Johnson

Margaret Weis (NYT Best Selling Author)

Marlene Hamilton

Marshane, Mandy, "Monkey" and Malachi Kitt

Matt Jones

Mike, Deanna and Larry Behning

M n T Glenn

Mike Janzcak

Randy Roberts

R.A. Salvatore (NYT Best Selling Author)

Ray, Tracy, Hailey, Joey, Jaden and Rusty Fjeldheim

Raymayne Gray

Ryan and Kacey Stevenson

Shanna Caldwell

Tracy and Laura Hickman (NYT Best Selling Authors)

Wil and Jeannie Wilson

## LITERARY WORKS WRITTEN BY J. ERIC BOOKER

_THE Making_ © 2004—MYSTERY

"The Elysian Dynasty Trilogy" © 2008—FANTASY

**BOOK I:** _THE SWORDS OF THE SULTAN_

**BOOK II:** _THE REIGN OF THE SULTAN_

**BOOK III:** _THE WAR OF ALL WARS_
