

The Cursed Sun

by Paul Westwood

Copyright 2011 Paul Westwood

formerly titled Malediction

Published at Smashwords

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Chapter 1

I still look both ways when I cross a street, even though there is nothing left to look for. There are no longer any running cars left in this wreck of a world, but old habits still remain. When I was a child, my father would take me firmly by the hand and pause at the curb. He would stop and ask me if any cars were coming. I would dutifully crane my neck and peer down whatever road we were on. Once I had given the all clear, we would then hastily cross the street as if some rogue vehicle was about to strike us down. Cars were rare then, but now there aren't any to watch out for because there aren't any left. The fuel and spare parts have long since disappeared. The roads are now just crumbling into weed-choked rubble with only foot-traffic, a few horses, and the rare caravan making use of the Ancients' once-proud achievement.

In my father's days, the Trail was always busy with the carrying of goods. But now, those times were only a memory. The Traders are now rare because the number of goods scavenged from the crumbling ruins had diminished considerably. Everything that was easy to take has been taken. Since no one has the skill to make these glorious objects again, it would only be a matter of time before we were all reduced to digging in the dirt for sustenance. We were now mere parasites on a dying world, waiting for the end to come.

Before entering, I paused outside and looked at my home of twenty-eight years. It was one of the few hotels left on the Trading Trail. Like the other large buildings in the town of Ewark, it too was made by the Ancients. What made my hotel different was it stood three stories high, which these days is a rarity. Anything else taller has crumbled away into decay, becoming yet another ruin to be scavenged for building materials. But nonetheless the brown brick of the outside walls has been repaired many times and hardly resembled the building I remembered from my childhood. Back then it had looked as new as the day it was made. But now, large parts of the exterior had been patched roughly with mud because there were no more proper bricks left to make the repairs. My father and mother would have cried if they could see what it looked like now.

The town of Ewark was nothing more than a few prominent buildings surrounded by a number of smaller residences made with inferior materials. Besides my hotel, there was the mosque where the calls to pray emanated, the town hall where the local Sharif named Faisi ruled, an open market that had nothing much left to sell, and a general store that often had empty shelves. The desert we lived in was bad for farming, so the residents raised some half-starved livestock, or made their living by providing services to the traveling caravans. In the days past, it was a good living, but recently there had been a decline in business. Part of me would have preferred to move north, but this town was all that I had ever known or wanted to know. It has been said that the northern climate was cooler and the cities more prosperous. Every day someone left our city to make the trek there. I still hadn't decided what to do.

Near the entrance to my hotel, a line of nine tethered horses stood at the hitching post. They snorted and drank from the wooden watering trough, their tails brushing away the ever-present flies. Two soldiers of the Mujadeen, resting lazily against the shaft of their spears, were watching the horses with disinterest. There was very little to see in this town and even less to do, unless you knew the right men. I was one of those men who could find entertainment for the most jaded of customer. There was the brothel, though the woman there were of little interest, a place to wager against the throwing of dice, and even a bar. Of course all places like that were forbidden against the holy laws that ruled the entire world, but such vices will always be around until man is no more.

One of the soldiers saw me. He grinned when he saw the small barrel balanced on top of my shoulder. He said, "As you know, landlord, the possession of alcohol is strictly forbidden. We will have to confiscate it unless you would like to lose your head."

Not changing my expression, I stopped and bowed deeply, which is hard to do with a barrel resting on your shoulder. With my natural strength, such a task is not unmanageable. "This is just fresh water for your master," I lied. In fact it was beer that I had just bought from my friend Kalam, who lived nearby. He was a brewer by trade and only sold to a select number of clientele. His product was well-known to the upper classes of the area and any visiting dignitary would want to partake.

The other soldier laughed knowingly, his round belly shaking under his dirty tunic made of roughly knitted wool.. He spat out, "We would be more than willing to sample this so-called water for our master. We wouldn't want him to be poisoned or fall sick."

"I'm afraid not," I said and pushed past them. There was no reason to talk any further to those two, but there was also little reason to anger them. The common soldiers of the Mujadeen were an underpaid lot, but at least they had the security of knowing where their next meal was coming from. The beer in my possession would have cost any other man his life, but the sub-Vizier staying at my hotel was beyond such petty rules. His men knew that he imbibed the forbidden liquid, but so did everyone, if given the chance. Locally, I was one of the few black-market sellers of beer, which allowed me barely enough coin to keep this place running.

Compared to the heat outside, the lobby of the hotel was a cool haven from the blazing sun. The carpeting underneath my feet was quite threadbare, and the oak panels were in dire need of a repair, but the building still managed to cling to the long-forgotten charm of an older era. Placed against the wall was an aged grandfather clock that had broken years ago, the hands permanently stuck at ten minutes after five. There were also a few paintings and faded photographs showing unknown scenes of the past: building, people, and streets crowded with cars. I would have loved to repair the interior to its former glory, but like the bricks outside, no carpenter could truly master the techniques of the Ancients.

Hussen, my recently hired clerk, looked at me impassively from the front desk as I passed him by. He was a man of medium build, a shock of black hair that always looked unruly, and brown eyes that were forever roaming as if hunting for prey. I missed my old worker, Pawl, but he had recommended his cousin to take over his many duties. I really had no reason to complain of this new man's performance, but he was sullen and did not show me the respect that I thought I deserved. But at least he could read and write, which is more than I can say for many of the other residents of this shrinking town.

Taking the creaky wooden stairs two-at-a-time, I climbed to the third story. I then took the hallway leading to my very best room. It was dark here, the only light coming from the open window at the end of the hall. After suppertime, candles were lit to guide my customers to their rooms, but economy forced me to rely on natural light during the day.

I stopped at the door near the end of the hallway. Giving it a tentative knock, the door was immediately opened by a thin sergeant with a wispy black beard.

His dark eyes looked me over, perhaps checking me over for weapons. With such an important visitor, all precautions were being taken. "Ah, the landlord has finally arrived," he said. He then flung the door open to let me pass.

As I mentioned before, this was the best room in the hotel. It was really two rooms that at some time in the past had been combined into one. The original wall that had once separated the two rooms was now a graceful arch that ended with a white column on either side. The open windows revealed the seemingly unending desert outside. On the two sofas sprawled the other soldiers, busily eating the lunch of lamb stew that the maid had brought up. They were messy eaters, so I rightfully feared for the condition of the fabric, which was worn but in amazing condition considering the age.

On the other side of the room sat the sub-Vizier Rasid. He was resting in a low chair, his feet propped up on the edge of the bed. Rasid was large, perhaps the only obese man in the entire region. It seems that the rest of us were working too hard to stay alive to afford the luxury of a large dinner. His Sherwani jacket and turban were made from the finest golden-colored silk, while his pants were made from the whitest cotton. Only the very richest could afford such garments since paying for such rare workmanship was prohibitively expensive for anyone else. Peeking from the sash wrapped around his rotund stomach, I could see the butt of the ceremonial pistol. The secret of the gun has been lost ever since time of the Ancients. Only the powerful Mujadeen had the power to get the rare but required ammunition. Their soldiers and the rest of us made due with swords, spears and bows. It was amazing that such a small device could kill scores of men while leaving the user free of exertion.

"Mikel!" Rasid boomed out. He beamed at me, his black, pointed beard bobbing up and down in anticipation of the beer resting on my shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you. Come here and bring that good drink to me."

I graciously bowed in my most ingratiating manner since Rasid was a valued customer of mine. Though his visits were rare, he was a big spender, helping to provide enough income to help keep me afloat in these bare years.

As I drew near, his black eyes glittered at me from the rolls of fat that made up his face. "Has this year's batch turned out well?" he asked, licking his lips.

"It certainly has, sir," I answered. "Do you wish me to tap the barrel now so you may sample it?"

He nodded and watched greedily as I rested the barrel on the table and spiked it open. The cellar-stored beer splashed cold against the bottom of my hand. I then poured the golden liquid into a long, tall glass that had already been placed in readiness for the sub-Vizier's visit.

Smacking his lips in anticipation, Rasid took the glass from my hand and drank deeply. After a moment, he looked up from his glass with flecks of foam on his upper lip. He said, "By Allah, you are correct. This is the best batch yet! Someday I will have to meet the maker of such a fine drink. Now pour out a mug for each of my men and then come replenish mine. We shall then sit and talk since I have much to discuss with you."

I did as he bid, pouring out a mug of beer for each of his man. Though alcohol was forbidden by law, they did not seem to mind. I then returned to Rasid and refilled his now-empty glass. He motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bed, which I did.

Rasid leaned over and squeezed my knee, the sour smell of his breath hitting me in the nostrils. I smiled wanly at him.

"Tell me, Mikel, how is business?"

"Fair," I replied.

Rasid squeezed my knee one more time before returning his interest back to the glass of beer. He took another gulp. "Trade is down and does not appear to be getting any better. The Warlord is worried that the Rebels may be having an effect on the caravans. What do you think?"

I knew that Rasid reported directly to the Warlord. Whatever the sub-Vizier said was also of interest to that faraway ruler. I shrugged. "Over the years, trade has been getting steadily worse. I do not see it getting any better, especially since the traders can no longer loot the Ancients' cities like they once did. As time goes on, common objects and luxury goods can only get more expensive. That will hurt all of us."

He stared at me. "So you do not think the Rebels are of any consequence?"

I shook my head. "I have never seen one here in Ewark." Which was true. It seemed any rebellion was small and of little consequence. Sometimes men talked of them, but it was mostly with humor. It was commonly thought that the Mujadeen used them as a easy scapegoat.

Rasid's free hand waved across the points of the compass. "The Rebels are everywhere. They travel the roads, looking for easy prey. It is only through the magnificent power of the Mujadeen that we have any civilization at all. Do you not agree?"

"Of course I agree," I said, bowing my head in supplication. "The Mujadeen also keeps us safe from the creatures of the Wasteland." In fact the Mujadeen had been in power ever since the evil days when the Ancients were destroyed. No one could imagine a world without the Warlord and his followers. They not only made the laws, they also enforced them with an iron fist. It was said that the Warlord, who governed from the city of Washtin, had a mighty army at his command. Why they did not simply crush the Rebels was a matter of some speculation.

"If it wasn't for the Mujadeen, there would be no law. There would be no order to the world. And what do the Rebels want? They speak of freedom when no one can afford it. They speak of liberty when they offer nothing but chaos. Those old words mean nothing anymore. Now what kind of world would their promises bring?"

"I'm just a simple hotel owner," I replied, slowly shaking my head. "I know little of politics and even less of these ancient words that the Rebels speak of." I was, of course, speaking the truth. Though a few of the visiting Traders spoke of the Rebels, no one ever claimed of being robbed by them. I personally put little stock in these so-called Rebels since I had never seen any evidence that they had a hold on the countryside. People feared the Wasteland more than any man.

Rasid, meanwhile, laughed, the fat jowls of his face shaking with mirth. "My friend, you would succeed under any regime! You only care about business, don't you?"

"Stability is good for business," I answered meekly. "What is good for business is good for me."

He took another sip from his beer, his expression hard to read. "This is why I need to talk to you. The Warlord is worried that the Rebels are starting to gain prominence in this area. That is evident enough in other towns. He worries that they will be supported by the populace, especially since the trade is diminishing. There will be some hungry bellies soon, and that means the land will be ripe for revolution. Hungry people are more willing to listen to far-fetched promises that no one could possible keep. We will need people like you to be our eyes and ears, to stop the rebellion from spreading here in Ewark."

I frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You run a business that caters to travelers. You certainly must hear many a rumor from the men that stay at your establishment. If you could pass that information on to me, then that would be of a great help."

"You attach too much importance to my position," I said humbly.

His eyes narrowed, becoming near-invisible slits. His voice became suddenly harsh as he said, "I think not. And this isn't exactly a request. This is an order. You will do as I say or else there will consequences."

"As you command," I replied quietly.
Chapter 2

The next morning, I watched as the sub-Vizier and his men rode away. I was glad to see him go since I did not like any man to give me orders, especially inside my own hotel. But still, I couldn't decline his demands since I had a business to run. It would only take one word from Rasid and I would be thrown out of my own home or even put to death. The unfairness of it irked me to no end, but that was the way of the world. There was nothing that I could do but do as he commanded.

Days passed, and the summer heat became almost unbearable. It was like an oven inside the rooms and except for the blowing sands, the world outside became very still. Travelers were few, so I decided to leave and visit Kalam at his home. It was here in his cellar that he brewed his beer and kept the precious liquid stored away from the beating rays of the sun. Kalam was much older than I, having been an old friend of my father. His actual age was unknown, and rumor was that he had once been a great warrior; a Captain in the Mujadeen. But when pressed for information, he would never say a thing, but would instead just shake his head and smile. When I took over the business after the death of my father, Kalam continued to sell his illicit alcohol to me without a further word. He seemed to like me well enough in his quiet way.

As I watched, Kalam was carefully measuring out hops, his dark, wrinkled hands gently moving the cup from the burlap bag to the pail. His turban-covered head was held low, his eyes concentrating on the task. I don't think I have ever seen him lose a single one. A gray beard cascaded down from his chin, covering the front of his simple cotton shirt. It was always relaxing to watch a craftsman at work, and the coolness of the stone floor was a relief from the boiling heat outside.

Kalam was a man of few words, so I was surprised when he finally spoke. His gravelly voice was always low and almost incoherent except to his closest friends. He croaked, "I've heard that Rasid, the sub-Vizier, came to visit you."

When I had bought the beer, I had not mentioned this to him since he did not seem to care who consumed it. He trusted me enough to keep his name out of any dealings with the law. That was expected without comment since my father would have done the same. "Yes, he did," I replied uncertainly.

He nodded, the hair of his beard bobbing up and down. "And what did he want of you?"

I replied cautiously, "He stops at my hotel at least once a year. It is part of his tour of this province to make sure that all is well. Nothing unusual about it."

"Rasid did not ask anything special from you? No favors?"

I began to wonder why I was being asked these questions since Kalam had never shown any interest in my business before. My voice sharpened as I replied, "Why do you care?"

Kalam shrugged. "It's of no importance. I'm just curious."

Slightly mollified, I answered, "He spoke of the Rebels and their growing influence. I was then asked to report any rumors or anything out of the ordinary that came my way. It was actually more of an order really. Something seems to be bothering the Mujadeen."

"And how did that feel? To be told to spy on others?"

"I did not like it at all," I replied honestly. "My job is to run my hotel, not to spy on my customers."

Kalam returned his attention back to his work. He said over his shoulder, "Times are changing. The old order is crumbling like the bricks of your hotel. You will have to be very careful if you want to stay alive."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He shrugged but did not answer.

I angrily left Kalam, letting the old man keep his mysterious words. From there, I entered the town. These days Ewark was certainly not an impressive sight, but it has been said that it was once a mighty metropolis in the days of the Ancients. Back then, it supposedly had innumerable buildings built to dizzying heights, a network of roads which were mysteriously lit at night, and thousands of residents. Now, looking at the rutted track that ran between the handful of low buildings, such past stories had to be the creation of a fanciful imagination. There was nothing here but sand. Underneath the surface, scraps of old wreckage was occasionally discovered by someone digging a well or repairing a foundation. But still, if there had been a great city here, not all of it could have disappeared under the sands.

Before returning to my hotel, I decided to replenish my larder. The store I stopped at had been built a scant twenty years ago, but already looked as it would collapse. The hardened mud that made up the sides was faded from years of blowing sand, and the thatch roof sagged on one side. It really wasn't that good of a place, but except for the open market, the owner had the luxury of having a monopoly on the trade.

I pushed open the wooden door, which let out a clang from the bell mounted above the frame. Inside, I saw I was the only customer. It was dingy as usual, with only two oil lamps providing the light, except for the sun which shone dimly through the dusty window. The glass counter that stretched the length of the store was equally dirty and the cuts of meat inside were swarming with lazy, fat flies - which is one reason why I preferred to buy my meat from a local farmer. The rest of my food and supplies I sadly had to purchase here.

"Ah, Mikel!" a voice rang out from behind the counter. It was Myliss, the storeowner. She was a skinny shrew of a woman with lank brown hair that was streaked with gray. Her manner towards me was always ingratiating, but I heard that she had a sharp tongue for her employees and less wealthy customers.

"Good morning," I said. "I shall need fifty pounds of rice, ten pounds of butter, and five loaves of bread. I will also need some saffron, ginger, and garlic."

She sadly shook her head. "I have everything but the butter and the garlic. And for now I can only give you twenty pounds of rice."

I hesitated before answering, calculating the state of my own supplies. "That's going to make things difficult. Are you having trouble with your vendors?"

"The regular supply caravan is late. There hasn't been one here for over a week. I'm going to have to start raising prices if things don't get any better."

I shrugged since caravans were usually notoriously late. "Well, deliver what you can. I can make what I already have last a little longer. With the number of customers visiting my hotel, there is little chance that I will starve to death."

"I need payment now," Myliss said, her normally friendly tone was now hard and unyielding. "I also need payment for last month's bill."

"But I always pay on time," I replied indignantly. "Why are you changing your terms with me after so many years of business?"

Her expression was now cold and unyielding. "I'm not only asking you, Mikel, but everyone. If I cannot get the food in, then prices are going to have to rise. That means my costs are also going to rise. So I will need the money to pay the few suppliers that do make it in to Ewark."

"It's really that bad?" I grumbled. "Very well, I will return with money in hand."

Her face softened, revealing an underlining anxiety. "The way things are going, it will be a wonder if I'm in business next year," she complained. "The deliveries are getting rarer and rarer. The few caravans who do make it in complain of robbery, theft, and even death."

I pondered this news. It was always dangerous for the caravans, but such things had never stopped them to this degree. "I am sorry to hear that, Myliss. Has no one complained to the Sharif? It is his job to keep the province open to trade."

She shook her head. "I have made several appeals, but he always tells me that he lacks the manpower to cover every route. Anyways, much of what happens is beyond the borders of the province. I've heard word that the creatures of the Wasteland are on the march. But I don't take much stock in such fantasies. There's nothing there but sand, unless you believe those childish stories."

The Wasteland was a massive empty desert to the west of us. It went on for innumerable miles and was rumored to be populated by the most terrible of beasts. Most traders steered clear of the area, but the roads heading north and south still touched the borders of the accursed place. The Mujadeen were supposed to patrol these areas, keeping the citizens safe from violence.

With a bow, I then left the store, wondering what this fresh information meant to me.
Chapter 3

Summer was now reaching its zenith. The days were long, dusty and hot. It was in the afternoon when I was at the front desk with Hussen, going over the accounts. His pencil scratched busily on the paper as I read out the pitiful amounts. The recent visit of the sub-Vizier has enriched my pockets, but other than that, business had been poor. The hotel was currently unoccupied and would probably stay that way for the next few weeks. At this rate, I would have to close up in only a few months. There just wasn't enough business to keep me solvent. The price of food was now higher than ever since everything but livestock was dependent on trade. Only a handful of caravans had made it through, leaving the city practically starving. No one knew what happened to the missing wagons, making it all more mysterious.

These dire thoughts were cut short by the opening of the front door. In walked a swarthy man dressed in a dusty tunic, grimy pants, and black leather boots that had seen better days. The travel-worn turban wrapped around his head was partially undone, the loose cloth knotted across his face to protect against the ever-present dust and scorching sun.. The gray eyes stared keenly at me.

"You have a room available?" he asked with a quiet, dignified voice.

"I think I might just be able to fit you in," I lied with the manners of a practiced hotelkeeper. I would have been happier if he could rent out an entire floor.

Hussen was staring dumbly at the stranger. I'm normally not a cruel man, but Hussen's attitude had a way of bringing out the worst in me. The fool finally moved when I kicked him squarely in the rear.

"Get the guest's bags!" I shouted at him.

Hussen scuttled outside, giving me a malignant glare as he left.

The visitor just smiled at this scene of modern employee management. He said calmly, "I would like a room with northern exposure and one that lies on the ground floor. Do you have such a room available?"

"Yes, that can be arranged. A wise choice, if I do say so myself. That side of the hotel is much cooler this time of year. Now if you would please, could you sign the register?"

He studied the register book for a moment before untying the cloth over his face, exposing a short-cropped beard and narrow cheeks. "I would prefer not to sign. Is it really necessary?"

I looked at the guest closer, wondering why he balked at signing. Perhaps he did not have enough money to stay here. "It is the law," I replied firmly, hoping to scare away any potential dodging of payment.

He smiled, the fine lines around his mouth growing in prominence. "Let's just say that I have a private disposition. I would be willing to pay to keep my privacy."

I shook my head. "It's the law – everyone must sign the ledger or else I would be fined."

Reaching into his tunic, the guest reluctantly retrieved a leather purse. He opened it, pulling out a stack of gold dinars which he placed on the desk. "That will be more than enough to pay for your silence," he said. "But do not abuse my trust."

In these lean times, no man could refuse the sight of gold. Nodding, I grabbed the stack of coins and pulled them towards me. At that moment, Hussen returned with two leather cases hanging from his arms. His eyes followed the money as it disappeared into my pocket. He then looked suspiciously back and forth between the stranger and me.

"Take our guest to room twelve," I commanded.

"Yes, sir." Hussen replied sourly. He then shuffled off with our new guest in tow.

I called after the stranger, "Sir, dinner is served promptly at six o'clock. Tonight it will be chicken and rice. If you do not come, then you will be left to your own devices."

My mysterious guest did not respond, but instead disappeared down the hall. I was left wondering why he was trying to remain concealed. It would have been easy enough to write a false name since I wouldn't have bothered to examine his traveling papers. Anyways, the local Sharif never came around to check my register. It was a mystery, but not one that I was going to concern myself with. I really had no reason to pry in this man's affairs.

But I suddenly remembered the words of the sub-Vizier. He would have been most interested to hear of a man trying to travel the roads without leaving a trace behind. But how could I contact Rasid? Did he expect me to go through the Sharif? He gave me no instructions for such a situation. He merely asked for the rumors and stories that passed my way, not to point out potential troublemakers to the police. That thought salved my conscience somewhat. There was probably nothing to report here since some traders liked to remain anonymous in fear of being robbed.

I pushed those thoughts aside and returned to my book-keeping. I was happy for the small stack of gold I had just received since it would allow me to stay open for a little longer than planned. Perhaps, once the heat reduced in the autumn, more travelers would take to the roads. It was a faint hope, but it was the only one I had. It was too bad that there wasn't anyone left in Ewark who could afford to buy my business. I really did not want to travel to the cooler north and leave everything behind since this was the only home I had ever known.

Later in the day, after I had finished my other chores, I was in the kitchen, helping my maid Molli prepare dinner. I could see that the rice was bubbling nicely on the stove and from the oven came the delicious smell of chicken. I stole a glance at Molli, who was looking as lovely as ever.

She has been with my family for almost twenty years now, having started with us at the age of nine. That made her only a little older than me. She still retained much of her beauty, but the ever-present sun had turned her once-fair skin nut brown. When I was a younger man, I had fallen under her spell. Back then, she taught me much about the mysteries of woman, but our love was not meant to be. After a brief blaze of lust, we had drifted apart, falling into an amiable friendship. Even though she had been courted by several prominent men of the town, she loyally stayed with the hotel. It was her home now.

She caught me looking at her. With a faint, knowing smile that just showed the edges of her white teeth, she returned her attention to stirring the rice.

I asked with a slight trace of embarrassment, "Molli, have you seen our only guest?"

"No, I haven't. When I brought him a basin of water, he told me through the door to leave it outside."

"Well, he had better come down for dinner. I'm not going to send you up there just because he can't be on time."

She nodded absentmindedly and returned to her cooking duties. From the pump inside the kitchen, I filled a pitcher of water. I brought it outside to the dining room. It was an area near the lobby with five circular tables – just enough room to feed all of my customers if I was completely booked up. Salii, the town storyteller, was there at the cold fireplace, hoping to make a few shekels telling tales to travelers. His wizened face looked disappointed by the small audience. The only guest was already sitting at one of the tables, his chair leaning against the back of the wall. He was watching me with guarded eyes. I brought the water over to his table and poured it into his waiting glass.

"Good evening, landlord," he said politely. "I would expect more customers to be here for dinner."

"Business hasn't been very good. I hope your room is satisfactory," I said as I put the pitcher down on the table.

"It will do. Now will you have a seat? There are a few words of a private nature that I wish to have with you."

I complied, even though I did not know why he would want to speak with me.

After I had seated myself, he poured me a glass of while talking in a most amiable fashion. He said in a low voice so we would not be overheard by Salii. "I've been told that you are a man who can be trusted. How would you like to make some more money?"

I bowed my head in recognition. "I don't know who you talked to, but as long as it is not illegal, I would gladly endeavor to help you. But I do not know what you would possibly want from a simple hotel owner like myself."

He laughed. "And I see that you are also a man of high morals. I've already paid for your silence concerning my stay here. For a few more dinars, would you be willing to look the other way when I leave the premises tonight?"

I hesitated before answering. "I'm not normally in the habit of keeping track of my guest's whereabouts. It's of no concern of mine where you go or what you do. I merely provide a roof over your head and a place to eat."

"That is very broad-minded of you, but I'm more concerned about the Mujadeen. If they should come and ask questions about me, I would prefer that you do not mention that I left your hotel in the middle of the night." He saw my look of disbelief and quickly added, "I can assure you that I am really doing nothing illegal. I'm not going to rob or kill anyone."

I blinked a few times as I digested this information. "I'm not sure if I can agree to that," I finally said. "I don't know who you are or why you are here. I do not want to put my life or my business at risk for just a few coins."

My words were interrupted by opening of the kitchen door. It was Molli. She was carrying a tray loaded with food. She promptly put the chicken and rice before us, shooting me an inquisitive glance. I nodded politely at her and waited until she had returned to the kitchen.

Before I could continue, my guest said, "You can call me Tai. I'm a friend of Kalam."

I looked at him suspiciously, wondering how this stranger could know Kalam. I said, "You do? Then you must have tried his wine before."

He shook his head. "Wine? Don't play me the fool. Kalam only makes beer unless he has changed his ways after all these years."

I sighed in relief. "Well, you are correct. I'm sorry. Tai, any friend of Kalam is a friend of mine. Tell me, how do you know him?"

"He has been a friend of mine for a very long time," he replied evasively. "Granted, it has been a long time since I've seen him, but I always make a point to visit him when I stop here in Ewark."

I shrugged my shoulders. "If he is a friend of yours, then you can count on my silence. I give you my word."

He politely bowed his head. "Now let's waste no more breath on mere words. We have this good supper before us. Let's eat."

As we supped, Salam began to tell the story – one that I was quite familiar with since I had heard it countless times. Of course everyone had since it was part of our history, the sort of tale passed from father to son and mother to daughter.

With his loud and commanding voice, Salii said, "Countless years ago, back before the oldest grandfather was even a child, there was an age where mankind lived in sin. The people of the Earth were creatures beholden to outlandish fashions, strange addictions, and a life without the guidance of Mohammed and Allah. It was because of these immoralities that the Great War came. This was the war that ravaged the globe, destroying life and cleansing the land with flame and famine. In the battle soldiers fought, cities were burned, green pastures turned to desert, and the people of many lands were hunted and destroyed."

Even though he was playing to just myself and Tai, Salii stood up, his ancient frame wavering. He raised his hands, his voice rising in volume. "From the ashes rose the Mujadeen, who were free of sin. With their might and with their sword, they took what was left. The Mujadeen turned chaos into order and reshaped the world into a better place. We are blessed that they threw out the sinners, and made a place that is safe, free of our worst natures. We are now under the guidance of the one and only god."
Chapter 4

My small bedroom was located in a room behind the front desk. It was handy to have for the arrival of late night guests. It was here that I kept some of my more personal treasures – a small painting of my parents, an original and still-sealed pack of cigarettes from the times of the Ancients, and a collection of antique drinking glasses. Perhaps it was the nature of my business, but I've always been a poor sleeper. Nonetheless even with that handicap, I did not hear Tai leave that night. He must have left by the window in his room since I did not hear his passing through the doors of the lobby.

It was some time in the middle of the night when I was awoken by the sound of a gentle tapping. Feeling disorientated, I opened my eyes and was met by the pitch-blackness of my shuttered room. The sound was coming from the single window which looked out on to the road a few yards away. Fearing some enterprising thief was trying to gain access inside, I reached over to my side table and retrieved the dagger that normally hung from my waist. I never had cause to use it before, but such an ornament was expected these dangerous days.

In the darkness, I stole gently to the window. I was about to fling it open when the noise suddenly stopped. Opening the window as quietly as possible, I swung back the shutters. From the light of the moon, I could see no one standing outside. I was about to return to my slumber when I heard a low moan coming from the ground. Leaning over the casement, I saw a shadowed body lying there, resting close to the foundation.

"You must help me," a voice croaked. It was Tai.

Pulling myself through the window, I was soon standing over him. Reaching down to grab his shoulders from the behind, I felt the shaft of an arrow protruding from his back. With a jerk, I removed it, which brought a heavy moan from Tai. His back was slick with blood. As carefully as I could, I picked him up and swung his body over my shoulder. That movement caused more grunts of discomfort from him. From there, I staggered over to the front entrance and found it locked. Since I had left my keys in my room, I resorted to pounding on the door.

"Open up, Hussen!" I shouted. He normally slept in the room next to the front entrance, supposedly guarding the hotel from intruders.

There was no answer, so I rapped the door again with my fist. As before, the knocking had no effect. "Damn it, Hussen, open the door!" I shouted, my anger starting to boil over.

After another minute, the door opened. Holding a lit candle, Molli was standing there in a pale nightgown, her blonde hair mussed from sleep.

"Why are you outside?" she meekly asked.

"Where is Hussen?" I asked angrily as I staggered inside with Tai.

Molli was a gentle soul who knew nothing of violence. She gasped at the sight of the wounded man. With her face pale from shock, she replied, "I don't know. He should be here."

"Well, he isn't." I was surprised that Hussen had deserted his post. Where could the fool be? Pushing that thought away, I had to decide what to do with Tai before he bled all over my lobby. He was in a bad state and needed medical treatment beyond what I could administer. "I'll take him to my room," I heard myself saying. "It will be closer than dragging him to his."

She nodded and started ahead, the dim light of the candle throwing ghastly shadows on the familiar walls.

Pulling Tai past the front desk and into my room, I dumped him on my bed. With unsteady hands, I lit the oil lamp at my side table and then looked closer at this friend of Kalam. I certainly was no doctor, but I could only see the he was unconscious and still losing blood. His breathing was so shallow that I wondered how much longer he would live.

"What happened to him?" Molli whispered.

I snapped back, "I found him outside the bedroom window with an arrow in his back. Hurry to the kitchen and boil some water. This wound will need to be cleaned if he has any chance of living."

She left in haste, the sound of her bare feet thudding against the floors.

"I'm sorry that I came here," Tai croaked. He had somehow regained consciousness once again. His grey eyes were glassy with pain and the jaw set in a fixed scowl. As he spoke, the lips barely moved. "I tried to make it to Kalam's house but did not have the strength. This wound is grievous. I fear it will be the death of me."

"Don't talk now," I cautioned. "You will need to rest if you want to get better. I must leave you here with Molli, my maid, so I can get the doctor."

He slowly shook his head. Even that motion took considerable energy to accomplish. "No doctors. No one must know that I am here."

"Well the only doctor in town isn't very good, but I fear for your life if you do not receive aid."

"That's not important. I need to write a note for Kalam. You must deliver it to him!"

I went to my desk and put my dagger down. I quickly gathered a pen and a scrap of paper. I brought it to Tai, who began writing earnestly with short, cribbed letters. His hands shook. I was amazed he had the strength to finish. When Tai was done, he handed the note to me. He then closed his eyes, let out a long sigh and died without a further word. I stood there, shaking my head in disbelief. I was getting wrapped up in something that I did not want to be part of. Slowly, I opened the note and found that I could not read it. It was written in some unknown language, using unfamiliar characters. Perhaps it was coded in some manner that only Kalam could read.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone pounding on the front door. I took the note and tucked it into a fold in my sleeve. Leaving my bedroom, I went out to the lobby and listened. From the sounds coming outside, it sounded as if a mob was trying to batter their way in. Since that was no way to treat my home, I angrily strode over and jerked open the door. As soon as I did this, a pile of five Mujadeen soldiers came crashing through, giving me little time to dodge.

"Good evening," a voice said. "Or should I say good morning?" It was Rasid. He was standing at the door, looking amused by the clumsiness of his men. But there was nothing amusing by the pistol held in his hand. It was pointed straight at me. The dark opening of the barrel reminded me of the blackness of death. One twitch of his finger and I would be finished. I wondered why Rasid was here. I had thought that he had left the city.

"Come in," I said weakly.

The sub-Vizier strode imperiously into the lobby with his sergeant. But of more interest was who followed. It was Hussen. He grinned malevolently at me, his previous meekness replaced by an arrogance I had never encountered before. On second thought such emotion was always there, but just barely concealed behind a clever mask.

"Sergeant," Rasid commanded, "I want this place searched from top to bottom. You will tear this place apart until that Rebel spy is found." As he spoke, the gun in his hand never wavered from me.

"Who are you looking for?" I demanded as the soldiers scattered to look through the hotel. Only Rasid, Hussen, and the sergeant remained.

Rasid spat out, "You know who we are looking for. He's a guest of yours."

I gave in before my hotel was damaged. "Look, I can save you the time. He's in my bedroom back there." I pointed to the door behind the front desk. "But I'm afraid he won't be any use to you."

"And why is that?" Hussen snarled.

"Because he is dead," I replied simply, hoping this would put an end to the matter.

"Sergeant, go take a look." the sub-Vizier commanded.

We waited in silence while the sergeant went behind the desk and into my bedroom. Hussen glared at me, the black eyes filled with hate. Perhaps he wanted vengeance for my past actions. Rasid's expression remained unfathomable.

The sergeant returned quickly, shaking his head. "It is as he said. The Rebel is dead."

"Your man should not have shot him," Rasid said coldly. "He was supposed to be taken alive. Now I will never get any information out of him!"

With a shrug, the sergeant said, "It is Allah's will."

My own troubles were cast aside when I heard Molli scream. She had been discovered in the kitchen. I could only pray that she would remain unharmed. Knowing the manners of these soldiers, I doubted it. My fears were soon realized when she was dragged, kicking and fighting, into the lobby. The soldiers all gathered around in a loose circle, their eyes shiny with anticipation. My stomach felt sick, knowing what was going to happen next. But I was helpless to stop the proceedings unless I wanted to be shot by that unwavering pistol in Rasid's hand.

"She knows nothing," I protested, but my words fell on deaf ears. Rasid was going to let his men have their fun. It was his way of paying them back for working far into the night.

They started shoving Molli around, making her fall to the ground, only to be picked up again to repeat the process. Her nightgown was quickly torn open, exposing the skin underneath. The sight seemed to inflame the soldiers' lust even further. Soon blood was running from her knees, and her hair was wildly disarrayed. She was sobbing, but her entreaties went ignored.

"Stop!" I yelled.

Rasid made a motion with his hand. The assault upon Molli immediately stopped. She fell to the ground, nearly senseless with pain and shock, only to huddle like a wounded animal. He then said, "So, Mikel, how could you become involved with the Rebels? I thought you were my friend."

"I am not involved with them," I protested. "I just provided a room for this Tai. I did not know who he was or what he was doing."

He gave a little laugh. "I have no reason to believe you. We've been looking for a cell in this town. Little did we know that is was you here at the hotel. What a perfect place! The Rebels could come and go without being noticed, mixing in with the travelers."

Hussen said, "Perhaps Mikel here can tell us what the Rebels know of the project."

"What project? What do you mean?" I asked, wondering what the hell they were talking about.

Rasid stared at me, his expression hard and calculating. "Very well, Hussen, proceed with your questioning. But make sure not to kill him right away. The Warlord will be displeased if we do not ferret out everything he knows."

The sergeant grabbed me by the arms and tried to hold me. Hussen took this chance and struck me hard in the face. I had been content to let the situation go, hoping they would realize I really had nothing to do with the Rebels. But Rasid appeared to be worried for his own head. He would kill me if it meant saving his own life.

Ever since I was a small boy, I had been warned to keep my temper in check because I have always been quick to anger. It was only through self-control that I kept my more violent emotions at bay. Now I let them go. My vision receded into a red-haze. I felt my skin crawl with rage. Even with Rasid's pistol trained on me, I didn't care. If I was going to die, let it be said that I died with honor.

I easily shook myself free of the skinny sergeant, and then, swinging around, struck him in the head with my fist. He went sprawling against the wall with a mighty bone-splintering crash. For the traitor Hussen, I grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. His eyes went wide with shock. I then swung him bodily into the front desk. The ancient wood cracked as his body hit with a frightful impact. He fell to the ground with a scream of agony.

Turning my attention to Rasid, I saw that he had not moved. His face remained impassive, but that infernal gun was still pointing at me. I took a step towards him, my hands stretched out to grab that thick throat.

"No one can beat the bullet," he said with a sneer.

Not caring, I took another step.

With a flick of his wrist, Rasid fired. I tried to hopelessly dodge. The bullet hummed by my ear, striking the wall next to me.

"Not another step," he hissed. "I don't want to kill you. At least not yet. You still have to answer my questions."

Before I could do anything else, a blow struck me in the back of the head. The entire world began to spin and my vision began to fade. Another blow and I was down on my knees. I'll never know who hit me, but they ended up saving my life. Now I couldn't rush Rasid and take that blasted gun away from him. As my consciousness faded away, I felt my body go limp and hit the floor.

It seemed like I was only out for a second. The heat was intense. My body ached worse than my head. I felt myself sliding across the floor like a sack of potatoes. With every ounce of my faded strength, I opened my eyes. It took me a moment to realize I was surrounded by fire. The smoke above was thick and grey. I closed my eyes again, wondering if I had descended into Hell. Now in a panic, I opened my eyes once again and pulled my head off of the floor to see who was pulling me. The energy to do to this nearly made me pass out. I saw Kalam, his expression grim. I swam into the darkness again and the world became nothing.
Chapter 5

I awoke to find myself shivering from cold. A rag was draped over my forehead, the frigid water dripping down my hairline. My body was a knot of pain. With a sickening lurch, I remembered everything that had recently happened. I felt numb, wondering what happened to Molli. I was lying down on my side, and when I blinked open my eyes, I saw a lit oil lamp next to me. Along the walls were tidily stacked wooden barrels of beer. I immediately recognized that I was in Kalam's cellar.

"Kalam!" I croaked out. "Where are you?"

"I am here," I heard him reply from the other side of the room. His whiskered face was soon close to mine. He stared at me with concern.

"What happened?" I asked with a whisper.

He shook his head. "I am sorry. You should not have been involved in this. Perhaps Tai should have stayed with me, but I thought it too dangerous. If he and I ever became connected, then I would have lost everything that took so many years to build. His cover as a traveler apparently did not suffice."

Still weak, I managed to snarl, "It was that bastard Hussen who saw through that. But where is Molli? How did I get here?"

He hesitated before speaking. His eyes betrayed regret. "I'm afraid that Molli is dead."

I felt a stab of grief that was deeper than expected. Perhaps I had loved her more than I cared to admit.

Kalam continued, "When I entered the hotel, I saw that she had been stabbed in the heart. I found you there, badly beaten. It was a miracle that you were still alive. Your hotel was set on fire and you were left inside to burn. Rasid and his men rode off, thinking you were going to die in the blaze. I managed to get in and rescue you before you succumbed to the flames."

"My hotel is gone?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.

"I am sorry. I knew what it meant to you."

It was my home, but now it was gone. A dull throb of anger, mixed with sorrow, beat slowly in my heart. "What am I to do now?" I asked out loud, not expecting any real answer. My old way of life was forever gone.

He said, "I'm afraid you cannot stay here too much longer. It is too dangerous for you to stay."

I felt my chest tighten with anger. I asked sarcastically, "Why does your safety matter to me? You haven't lost anything like I have."

He shrugged, dismissing my accusation. "I personally do not matter, but my work does."

"Hold on," I protested. "What is this all about? You can't just throw me out of your house without telling me why."

Kalam lifted a hand to quell my protest. He said, "Don't worry, I am not going to set you free to wander the countryside until you are found alive when you should be dead. First you must take a minute to rest and gain back your strength. Then you must leave and travel across the Wasteland, since it is the only place that you will be safe from the Mujadeen."

"The Wasteland? No one goes there!"

He shook his head. "There is much that you do not know. Others have crossed the Wasteland before and will do it again. I should know since I have done it myself, thought it has been many years since I made the journey."

I looked at him in surprise. "That's impossible. There is nothing on the other side. The Wasteland goes on forever until it hits the sea."

He shook his head. "In the Wasteland there is a mountain range that protects the Rebels. And there, free men continue to fight the Mujadeen. I am one of those men. I was placed here many years ago to provide assistance to those who work for the Rebellion. You must go there since you are no longer safe here. If you are seen in Ewark again, then you will surely be killed."

These unexpected revelations made my head spin. I could not believe what I was hearing. I said accusingly, "You have been here since my father's days. Exactly how long has this rebellion of yours been going on?"

Kalam smiled weakly. "For over a hundred years, we've been fighting the Mujadeen. We will win someday."

I was shocked by this information, but I somehow believed it. Kalam had never lied to me before. "And you still fight on after all these years? To what end?"

"We have no choice. We shall keep fighting on until we are destroyed or the Warlord and his minions are evicted from this land. There is no other choice but to win."

"I don't understand," was all that I could say.

He sighed. "There was a time before the coming of the Mujadeen. There was a time when all the men of this land were free. Back then the Ancients built a society greater than any that had ever come before. But like all things made by man, it did not survive the test of time. The men grew weak and the society crumbled like dust, faction fighting faction. When everything failed, the land was destroyed by a great war. What men were left from this disaster could not resist the hordes of the very first Warlord. The remaining free men were pushed into the Wasteland where they almost perished. There, they eventually found the safety of the mountains and learned to survive. It was a hard existence, but now we are now stronger. We will soon be ready to make our move against the Mujadeen."

This new information was coming too fast. I finally asked, "Tell me, what was Tai doing here?"

"He is a Scout. His job was to investigate a mysterious operation of the Warlord, as directed by that sub-Vizier Rasid. Some six miles from here, they are digging something up. I sent a message back to my home, requesting they send someone with more technical knowledge than I have. Tai was supposed to examine the area and make a report of his findings. He knows much about technology from the old days. It is thought that the Mujadeen have found a weapon from then."

Reaching into my sleeve, I pulled out the note that Tai had written. I handed it over to Kalam. He looked at it, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"I do not know," he replied with a shake of his head. "It is written in code that I do not know. It is written in the language of the Ancients, reserved for the most important of information. Only the Scouts and the Council can read it."

"The Council?"

"Unlike here, we are not ruled by one man. We vote to place men into the Council. There they represent us and make the important decisions. It was the way of the Ancients, so it is our way too."

"Then this information must be truly important."

"It must be," Kalam agreed. "Tai paid for this with his life. This message must be delivered to the Council at all costs. I leave that task to you."

I was too shocked to immediately respond. After a deep breath, I finally said, "But why me? I do not know the way. Besides, I am no adventurer."

"You don't have much of choice, do you? I am far too old to travel and must stay here to continue my work as a spy. Whether you accept it or not, Mikel, you are now a Rebel like me. You may not like that fact, but there it is. While I gather some supplies, I suggest you rest. Where you are going, you will need it."

Before he could leave, I asked, "You said the Rebels have a place in the mountains. What is it like?"

Kalam's eyes lit with the memory. "It's a wonderful place, completely unlike this desert. Imagine towering rocks, pine trees, streams, and cool green grass. It's been a long time since I've been home, so the place is only a dream to me now. But you will certainly like it, if you get there."
Chapter 6

The horse I was given was an old brown-haired nag that had seen better days. But at least her gait across the desert was smooth which helped the pain of my bruised and battered body. Except for the drum of the hoof and the canteen clattering against the belt that held my sword, it was quiet. The bags, rolled blanket and bow hanging behind me were cinched uncomfortably close against the saddle. I will freely admit that I'm no horseman since I rarely needed to rely on their service when living in Ewark. I was also no warrior. I never had a need for weapons when I could depend on my own brute strength to handle any trouble.

The setting moon was full, making strange, long shadows over the desert land. I cast a glance over my shoulder, where against the eastern horizon I could still just see the glow of my burning hotel. I had never left home before. It felt wrong to leave Ewark on this fool's errand, but what other choice did I have? If I stayed, I would be eventually discovered and killed by the Mujadeen. I could flee north to some other city, but I feared that Rasid's reach was long. There was no safety here.

Kalam had given me this horse, some water, a bedroll, and enough food to see me through for the next few days. The coded note of Tai was hidden inside an inner pocket of my jacket. Kalam had also given me directions to this Rebel town, along with a roughly drawn map. According to his instructions, I was to go around Lake Supri where I would then enter into the Wasteland. From there, after some traveling, I was to find an entrance to a low, rocky valley where a river once flowed. The valley pointed to the mountains of the Rebels like a long dagger. It would be a matter of traveling through the valley and on to the mountains beyond. The journey seemed easy enough, provided the Mutans would let me pass.

The advice I received from Kalam for dealing with Mutans was simple and direct. "If you see a Mutan, run or hide since they have a strong taste for the flesh of man. There is no reasoning with them, so don't stop to try. Traveling by horse, you should be able to make it through the valley in one night; the Mutans cannot abide the world without the sun. It is best to stay out of the city ruins, since they are more numerous there. Stay close to the southern wall, where there is a trail. You should be safe enough, provided you use those wits of yours."

The Mutans were creatures of legend – the sort of nightmare used to scare little children. I had never seen one myself, but the many stories by the travelers that stayed at my hotel told of a ferocious manlike creature that killed for pleasure. The few Traders that dared to explore the depths of the Wasteland were never seen again. What chance did I have? I shook my head at the thought, wondering how fate had put me in such a dire position. I had no choice but to make the best of it.

I rode for another hour or so, the sound of the desert unbroken except by my passing. I thought of Molli and how unfair it was that she had died. I also thought of my mother and father, and how disappointed they would be with me. Was I doomed to live in poverty and squalor, all because of a misunderstanding with the Mujadeen? I still wanted no part of this so-called rebellion and cursed Kalam for involving me. If only I had refused that room to Tai!

My passing thoughts were broken by the neigh of my horse. I leaned over and petted her neck, trying to quiet the old girl down. Perhaps she sensed some danger that I did not. I looked ahead but saw nothing. However, my sense of ease quickly disappeared once I heard from behind the galloping of an unknown number of horses. Everyone knew that the Mujadeen patrolled this area to protect us from the denizens of the Wasteland. If I was caught by the soldiers, then there would surely be questions that I could not answer. I kicked the flank of the mare, and she bolted ahead.

I really had no idea how long my horse would last since she was nothing but an old nag. To my surprise, our speed was considerable because it took whatever limited skills I had to stay on her back. My hands held tightly to the bridle while my aching thighs stayed cinched around the sides of her heaving flanks. We rode this way over the deserted plain while all along I had no idea how close our pursuers were. I was too afraid to turn and look since I would have lost my balance. Ahead, I could just make out a long dark shadow that stretched the length of the horizon. Was that Lake Supri? It had better be, or I was going to end up being caught.

Suddenly, in the limited light of the moon, I saw an arrow fly by and strike the sand ahead. Without even thinking, I turned my head to look at my pursuers. I barealy stayed on my mount. Some hundred yards away, there were at least a dozen of men on horseback, their steeds pressed forward in chase. To my horror, the Mujadeen soldiers were quickly gaining, stirring up a streaming trail of dust as they went.

Leaning forward, I kicked hard against the flanks of my poor horse. She responded with another burst of speed, but I could tell the old girl was beginning to tire - the once sure-footing was becoming clumsy, and her breathing was now ragged with exhaustion. She wasn't going to last much longer at this rate.

Behind me, the sun was starting to rise. All through the night, I had been heading roughly southwest, hoping to strike the very edge of the lake. And there it was, right in front of me. It only a few hundred yards away. Beyond this body of water was the lifeless Wasteland.

My horse stumbled and then slowed to a canter. Another arrow sped past me, followed by another half-dozen. They all missed and plowed into the sand ahead. I looked over my shoulder once again and found that my pursuers' speed had also slackened. They were only fifty yards behind me, but to my surprise they were looking at another horseman, galloping towards them from the right. It was a man dressed in a long black robe, riding an equally black horse. His hands were waving in the air, as if motioning the soldiers to stop. To my surprise, the pursuers slowed their pace.

I hit the edge of the lake, the sun above shimmering on the still blue water. Another glance showed me that the Mujadeen soldiers had stopped. One was talking to the robed stranger, while the others watched as I rode to the water's edge. There I let my horse slow and walk along the pebble-strewn shoreline. I continued to glance at the soldiers, wondering why they did not press their attack.

My horse was too tired to continue, so I was forced to stop and dismount. Keeping a wary eye on my would-be pursuers, I let the mare drink from the lake. She was in a lather, so with an old rag, I began to wipe her down. While I was doing this, the soldiers wheeled their mounts around and began slowly riding away. The rider in black stared at me momentarily, his features indistinct because of the distance, before following the others. I was mystified by this behavior since I was still within bow range. Why didn't they strike me down while they had the chance?

I let the horse rest. She continued to drink from the lake and then ate some of the yellow grass growing along the shoreline. I sat, slumped in the sand, watching the small waves of the water. The rising sun beat against my shoulders. I'm afraid to say that I fell asleep. The pain and shock of the night had been too much. There was no energy left to continue on.
Chapter 7

I awoke to find the sun blazing overheard, scorching the sand around me without mercy. From its position, I could tell it was some time in the mid-afternoon. My face felt red and raw from exposure. My throat was also aching with thirst, so I took a long drink from my canteen. I chided myself for foolishly falling asleep since I had lost valuable traveling time. The mare was near the shore of the lake, her head drooping drowsily. My body ached as I got up to see her. I gently rubbed her nose. She whinnied in appreciation, rocking her head back and forth.

"You're a good horse," I said soothingly. "I'm only alive because of you."

I then filled my canteen from the lake. I pulled myself onto the mare and gently prodded her forward at an easy pace. From my perch on the saddle, I could finally see the Wasteland in more detail. Though at first it looked like any other desert, it was different in minute ways. Unlike the land I had just traversed, there was no life at all – not a single bird flew in the sky and the ground was free of the occasional lizard or snake. It was also free of vegetation, without a single cactus or Joshua tree to be seen. As I rode along, I found that the Wasteland was also deathly quiet with only the wind and my horse breaking the oppressive silence. It felt if I had entered into a graveyard. Even with the heat of the baking sun, I shivered from an unknown fear. The nightmare stories of this place had suddenly become very real.

Shaking off this bad feeling, I pulled out the map that Kalam had provided me. By the looks of it, I had to head north-west to hit the opening of the valley. If I headed too far north, I would miss the entrance all together and run into the walls of the valley, but if I strayed too far to the west, I would be lost in the desert. Sadly my only compass was the sun above. Kalam had warned me that it was dangerous to descend into the valley using the walls, so I had to find the entrance. The sides of the valley were steep and treacherous, which made them impassable for horse and man alike. Traveling across the length of the desert was also impossible since not enough water could be carried to supply a man and a horse. There was fresh water somewhere deep in the valley, so that was the only route I could take.

I rode on for some time as the sun slowly dropped in the west, burning bright in my eyes. As night came, the Northern Star became my only navigation. Having already rested for the day, I continued on through the chill of the night. Living in the desert had long immunized me to the rapid temperature difference between night and day, but I still wished I had brought along something warmer to wear. As the leftover heat of the sun dissipated from the sand, I ended up using my wool blanket to cover my head and body.

Riding in the silence of the desert is an unsettling experience. Beyond the sound of the horse hooves striking sand and the squeak of my saddle, there was nothing. I felt like a sailor lost at sea - alone and forgotten by the rest of the world. The unchanging rhythm and noise started to lull me to sleep, causing my eyes to droop with weariness. I soon found myself sleeping several times, each moment of unconsciousness broken by my head slumping forward, hitting the mane of the horse. Too tired to continue, I finally slid off the horse and fell into a heap on the cool desert floor. I went to sleep.

Feeling something warm nuzzle my ear, I awoke with a start. It was the mare, her brown eyes looking into mine. The sun was now high above, turning the ground into a furnace once again. Getting up, I drank some water, sharing this meager resource with my horse. After a quick breakfast of jerked meat, I was up on the saddle again, looking for any signs of the valley entrance.

I don't know what caused me to look over my shoulder - perhaps it was the nature of the Wasteland that made one cautious - but in the shimmering waves of the desert floor, I thought I saw a dark figure riding behind me. It looked like the stranger who had stopped the soldiers from pursuing me. Pulling on the reins, I halted my own mare to take a better look at the man. This time I didn't see anything since the distortion of the heat across the sand made everything look like a waving black ocean. But I still couldn't shake the thought that I was being followed. However, as I rode along and checked over my shoulder, I never saw that figure appear again.

It was some hours later that I noticed a black smudge on the horizon ahead, slightly to the left of my intended direction. As I continued, I recognized this blackness as smoke rolling high into the sky. Something large was burning. I started to ride that way. Perhaps it was loneliness or just idle curiosity, but I foolishly decided to investigate the cause of the fire. It would have been better if I had minded my own business.

The expanse of the smoke grew larger with each stride of my mare. As we came closer to the source, I slowed her down to a walk. There was no reason to be incautious in the Wasteland since this could be a Mutan trap or some other unnatural phenomenon. There was a ridge ahead, the smoke billowing from behind. Along this ridge were several footprints and indentations in the sand where a large group had laid in wait. I dismounted from my mare and then cautiously made my way across the burning sand. Upon closer inspection, the footprints here were oddly shaped. They certainly looked like no animal I had ever seen. They were much like the foot of a man, but very narrow. The toes had also left long scratches in the sand, indicating some sort of claw.

That disturbing sight was soon forgotten when I looked over the ridge. Below was a line of a dozen burning wagons. With their voluminous cargo space, they looked like the sort of wagons used by the Traders. There were no signs of their owners or even the horses that once pulled them. The goods that were once were inside has been scattered across the desert floor. I gulped nervously as a tingle of fear crawled down my spine. It looked as if the Mutans had attacked this caravan, but what had happened to the people and the horses? I decided it was best to move on before I was discovered.

I ran to my horse and practically leaped onto the saddle. Grabbing the bridle, I kicked her flanks and off we went at a gallop. Looking behind, I saw nothing to warrant my haste, but the feeling of fear still stayed with me. I really was expecting too much out of this poor beast, so I grudgingly decided to slow her down to a canter.

To my right, I saw a little gully that dipped below the desert floor. Since there were no signs of any tracks, I decided to take this way as a precaution to remain unseen by any potential observer. Feeling smug with my decision, I had only ridden ten feet into the gully when suddenly, in front of me, the sand exploded. There was no chance to react, and before I knew it, a hidden net was lifted from the ground. It wrapped over the mare and me, immobilizing us from any further movement forward. My horse neighed in terror, and started to kick and buck.

With the mesh of the net covering my face, my own panic was beginning to rise. I rolled off to my side, freeing myself from the saddle and stirrups. Falling through the open side of the net, I find myself lying on my face in the gulley bottom, free of the trap that had been sprung. I jumped to my feet, where my eyes were greeted by a horde of vicious creatures rushing at me. Everything was moving too quickly. I had little time to examine these Mutan features, but the wicked black blades were enough for me to decide my next move.

With a tug, the unfamiliar sword was ripped from the scabbard hanging from my belt. I clumsily swung the blade down on the closest beast, splitting its misshapen skull in two. The blood that came out was as black as night. But that killing did nothing to stop the other Mutans from continuing their attack on me. I swung at another and my blade struck home, but I never saw if I had killed the foul creature because I was now overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Before I could do anything else, I was tripped and soon covered by a mass of bodies. They had a fetid stench which was worse than Ewark's trash pit. But I still fought, trying to leverage my strength against their superior numbers. But there was nothing I could do and soon a blow to my head stopped my struggle. I passed out.
Chapter 8

Through a pain-filled haze, I awoke with a start, wishing my head would stop being used as the receiving end of everyone's frustrations. My wrists hurt, and my hands felt numb. I peeled my eyes open – they were sticky with sweat and sand – to find myself looking at a fire-blackened skull close to my face. The eyeless sockets stared at me accusingly as if I was guilty for its predicament. The sick smell of a burnt breakfast was thick in the air. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Looking blurrily around my surroundings, I found that I was tied to a rusty metal pole with my arms hanging above my head. Below me was a pit that contained nothing but ashes. Craning my neck to the left and right, I saw that the pit was some twenty feet long with five tall poles like mine. On each pole there was the remnant of something that was once human, but was now only burned scraps of bone and flesh. My stomach recoiled in revulsion when I realized these people had been eaten from the foot on up. I struggled against my bonds without effect.

I finally looked up and saw three Mutans sitting in the sand in front of the pit. I now had a chance to study them, but the extra detail did little to help my quaking heart. They were hideous creatures with coarse but hairless grey skin, black eyes and malformed faces that almost looked human but were grotesque to the extreme - the noses were only slits, while the mouths were lipless, revealing rows of pointed yellow teeth. They were short in stature, like a boy of twelve summers. They had no clothing except for a roughly made belt to hold their sword and a quiver of arrows. Their short bows were lying in the sand. I wondered what perversion of Allah's will allowed such evil things to exist.

The Mutans were talking in some garbled language to each other, but that stopped once they notice my struggles. With barking laughs, they got up and approached the pit with swords drawn. One stepped closer, his mouth spreading to a wicked smile that was nothing but a wall of rotted teeth. With a flick of a wrist, his blade tucked in under my chin. I could feel the sharp tip jabbing into my windpipe. I croaked in protest, but was careful not to move. The blade then dug in deeper, allowing a trickle of blood to escape, before it was mercifully dropped.

I let out a gasp of relief. "Please," I pleaded, "don't kill me."

They cackled at my appeals. The ringleader was goaded on by this cruel laughter, and this time his sword sliced through my tunic and into the flesh underneath. Gritting my teeth, I felt hot blood began to drip down my chest and past my stomach. My head beat hard with pain, swimming red with color. Once again, the Mutan thankfully pulled his sword away.

I breathed hard as rivulets of sweat dripped off my forehead. "Stop," I screamed.

This only brought more laughter from my tormenters. But instead of using the sword, the Mutan in front of me began motioning with his hands. Through my pain-wracked vision, it appeared that he was miming the making of fire. It suddenly dawned on me that they aimed to cook me like the other poor victims of that caravan. I shook my head, fearing the dreadful pain of the fire licking against my feet and legs. I knew it would hurt worse than anything I had ever experienced before.

One of the other Mutans dug into the ground behind him. A large basket was soon uncovered, revealing a coal-like substance. With the help of his friends, they began ferrying the contents into the pit under my legs. I could do nothing but watch and scream, fearing the moment they would set me on fire. Even though no one could help, I began praying for Allah's divine intervention.

No one came.

A tinderbox was produced. A few scrapes of flint later, and a Mutan had a cheery blaze going on a scrap of wood. Sheltering the tiny flame with his hand, he walked over to the pit and then set the black fuel on fire.

Looking down, I could see the little fire spread. The minute heat was already heating my booted feet to an uncomfortable degree. To the delight of the Mutan, I started screaming again, this time swearing at my tormenters. The flames quickly spread, heating my feet and legs with a hot, piercing tongue of pain that ran the length of my body. I began to moan and cry in agony.

Tears welled in my eyes, but through the blurriness, I saw one of the Mutans suddenly collapse to the ground, clutching his neck with a frightful shout. Fighting the intolerable pain, I managed to open my eyes to look again. Another one immediately fell, an arrow sticking out of the bare back. The remaining creature ran for his bow, but it was too late. An arrow struck the leg, causing the Mutan to fall to the ground with an unworldly cry. That was all I saw before I had to shut my eyes again and scream from the pain caused by the licking flames.

When I was able to open my eyes again, I saw a lithe figure standing over the wounded Mutan. It was a girl. She took out a knife and neatly cut the creature's throat.

"Help me!" I called out before I let out another scream of pain.

Suddenly the intensity of the fire began to abate. Opening my eyes, I saw her standing in front of me, kicking the burning coal to the other side of the pit. Even through my pain-induced fog, I saw that she was a pretty thing with short-cropped hair, narrow cheekbones, a thin, girl-like body, and flawless ebony skin. Her clothing was simple – a tunic and a pair of pants that were almost the same color as sand. I soon felt my bonds part and I fell forward into the ground. The heat of the sand felt cool against my face compared to the burning fire I had just experienced.

"You need water," she said bluntly. Her voice was rougher than her beauty, but I was in no mood to debate the merits of either.

Turning over, I saw her bending over me, her face expressionless. Those eyes were as blue as the sky.

"Who are you?" I asked with ragged breaths, needing to know the name of my savior.

"My name is Suvan," she replied simply.

"I am Mikel," I gasped.

Without a further word, she took a water-skin from her belt and handed it to me. With shaking hands, I removed the stopper and took a drink of the warm leathery water. It felt wonderful.

"Do you think you can walk?" she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder.

"I don't know. My feet hurt so badly."

There was little sympathy in her voice when she replied. "You had better try. It won't be that much longer before their friends come back. I do not want to be here when that happens."

"I have a horse," I said. "It would be easier if I could ride."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid it is already dead. The Mutan hate horses even more than men and kill them on sight. But come, we've wasted enough time on talk. Now is the time to move."

She helped me up to the ground, her grip surprisingly strong for such a thin body. I was soon stumbling alongside her, each step bringing a new wave of pain. Already I felt dizzy from exhaustion and I wondered how much longer I could go on. I saw that we were taking a well-trodden path that was already heavy with the tracks of the Mutan.

"Why are we going this way?" I asked irritably. "We are going to run into a whole pack of those foul creatures."

She sighed with exasperation. "If we went straight across a fresh part of the desert, then our tracks would be obvious. This way we can confuse any followers."

"Very clever," I admitted. "But how do you know so much about their ways?"

"You talk too much," she replied impatiently. "Now stay quiet until we are safe. It's not too much further, and then I can answer your questions."

We soon reached a flat, rocky outcropping and turned off the path. Suvan stepped onto the stony surface, motioning me to follow. The hard surface of the rock was too much for my feet compared the softness of the sand. Every step was pure agony.

Suvan reached the end of the stony surface and dropped back down to the desert floor. I did the same, the jolt of pain making me grunt. It was shady here against the surface of the rock, so I sat down, thankfully taking the weight off of my feet. I was about to take off my boots, when Suvan gently grabbed my shoulder.

She said, "I know it hurts, but you will have to wait just a little longer. I want to wait until darkness comes before we move again. Until then, it is better that we remain prepared. You wouldn't want to run from the Mutan in your bare feet."

"You're full of wisdom," I retorted harshly. "Exactly who are you, and why are you here?"

Ignoring my sharp words, she said, "I did not choose to live here. I had no choice in the matter."

Suddenly feeling foolish over my childish outburst, I said, "Then why are you here?"

She was still looking over the edge of the rock, presumably checking if we had remained hidden from any potential pursuers. Suddenly, she dropped down to her haunches and sat next to me. She kept her voice low as she started to tell me her story.

"My father was named Aseik, and he was a well-known Scout for the Traders. With the use of their crumbling maps, he found many of the lost cities, earning a fee from the merchants. It is dangerous work since he had to visit uncivilized parts, far from the safety of the Mujadeen guarded roads. In turn, these Traders took the risk of scavenging the cities for the valuables contained within. But the number of new cities being discovered has now dwindled to zero. And with that came the decline in trade. The Traders are still looking for new sources of wealth, hoping some large cache will refill their coffers."

"So your father came to the Wasteland?" I asked.

She nodded. "There have always been rumors of a great city lying in the sands of the Wasteland. My father and I came to investigate for ourselves, thinking the stories were untrue, but still worth the risk. A discovery of a large city would have filled our coffers for a long time."

"But why did he bring you?"

She smiled wanly. "My mother died when I was very young. I've worked with my father ever since. Anyway, Scouts always work better in pairs. We came to the Wasteland and had much trouble with the Mutans. By luck, we found an entrance to a valley that led to an undiscovered city. Except for the work of the Mutans, it has been untouched by man. There is a wealth of treasure inside that could make someone rich."

Taking the map from my sleeve, I showed it to her. "Is this where you went?" I asked.

Her eyes widened with amazement. "How did you come across this?"

"It was drawn for me by someone who has already traveled through the valley. I am trying to reach the other side where the mountains are."

"It is a dangerous trip. What is your reason for making it?" she asked.

I did not wish to tell her of the note I was carrying, so I decided to tell a half-truth. "I'm afraid I'm an outlaw on the run from the Mujadeen. If I am captured, they will kill me."

She gave a start at this bit of information, looking suspiciously at me like I was about to attack her.

I gave her an easy smile. "It's nothing like that – just a little misunderstanding. I've heard that free men live safely inside the vast tracts of the Wasteland. I was told I can reach them by going through the valley and on to the mountains beyond."

Suvan looked intently at me. "The valley is dangerous. I'm surprised you were told to go that way. It will mean your certain death."

"There doesn't seem to be a safe place anywhere in this damn land. But I'm afraid I don't have much choice."

She frowned as if reminded of a bad memory. "My father died in the valley. We were coming back from the city when we were ambushed by the Mutans. There were too many of them to fight. I was able to escape, but my father died under a hail of Mutan arrows. I've been living in the Wasteland ever since, waging my own war against those evil beasts."

"Is that why you rescued me?"

"When I saw the smoke of the burning caravan, I came to rescue anyone who survived. You were lucky that I arrived in time, unlike the others who filled the bellies of the Mutan."

I said gratefully, "I too was drawn to the smoke, but fell into a trap. I am glad that you found me in time. Tell me, will you be willing to lead me to the valley entrance? I'm afraid that I am lost."

Looking up at the darkening sky, she said, "The sun is setting soon. That will buy us some safety. I can take you to the entrance of the valley, but you will die if you go into that cursed place."
Chapter 9

With Suvan taking the lead, we traveled by night. She walked through the sand in a careful but confident manner, using the stars to guide us. With the setting of the sun, the temperature had dropped, making me wish I hadn't lost my provisions and blanket. My feet were still bothering me, but the pain was now dull instead of the relentless throb it once was. With Suvan here, my prospects of surviving this journey were looking better. It was a stroke of luck that I hoped meant that better days were coming.

"Aren't you worried about running into a Mutan?" I asked in a whisper as we came to the crest of a dune.

She snorted. "They are afraid of the dark. They return to their camp to huddle around their fires like little children. Perhaps they do not see so well at night. Of course there are plenty of other dangers beyond the Mutans. It is best to always stay on your toes."

"Like what sort of dangers?" I asked. The Mutans were bad enough.

In the darkness I could just make out a shrug. "There is something strange about this land - something alien and forbidding. It breeds evil. Down in the valley, I've seen plants that eat flesh. I have also seen unholy creatures that inhabit the darkest corners of the ruined city. I've traveled to many lands with my father, but in all my years I have never seen anything like this accursed place."

"Neither have I."

After a few more hours of walking, dark menacing clouds began blanketing the sky. At the sight of these, Suvan motioned us to stop. She then began digging with big sweeping motions into the sand with her bare hands.

"Come help me," she demanded.

"What are we doing?"

"Making a place to rest during the day. We will need to stay out of the sun and also remain undiscovered from the Mutan scouts. I would like to go further, but with that rain coming, I would prefer to stay dry. You also need to take those boots off and tend to your burns before they become infected."

At her direction, we dug a pit two feet deep and approximately the length of my height. From her knapsack, she brought out a sand colored tarp which we stretched over the hole. Four long stakes were then driven into each of the corners, keeping the tarp flat against the desert floor. It started to rain, the water coming down with heavy drops. Suvan then crawled in, carrying her pack with.

"Come in out of the rain and take off those boots," she said, her voice muffled by the sand and tarp.

With a shrug, I slid inside. It was dark in there. As I was taking off my boots, she was busy fidgeting with something from her knapsack. There was suddenly a spark, and a little flame flickered from a stub of a candle.

She said, "This rain will be good since it will cover our tracks. Now sit back and let me take a look at your feet."

I did as she requested, feeling self-conscious from her attention.

With a yank that sent pain shooting up my legs, Suvan slid off my socks and pulled back my pant legs. She let out a low whistle.

"What is it?" I asked.

She replied with concern, "Your feet and legs are terribly blistered. There isn't much that I can do about it right now. You had better get some sleep, but keep your feet out in the open air. It's the only way they will heal."

My stomach audibly grumbled.

Suvan laughed and dug into her knapsack. "Here," she said, handing me small, thin strips of jerked meat.

I started eating it, but found that the taste was rather different. "What is it?" I asked between bites.

"Not many animals live out here in the desert. It's lizard that I just killed the other day."

I made a face, but my belly didn't care. After I had finished with this small meal, I took a swig from her water-skin. Suvan put out the lamp. I then shut my eyes and tried to sleep, all the while aware of the young woman lying next to me. The rain outside increased its intensity, drowning out any other noise. Rolling to my side, I put my back to her, hoping she did not feel uncomfortable sharing this tight space with a total stranger.

To my surprise, she draped her arm around my waist. Her hand soon found a way under my shirt where the fingers began playfully rubbing against my stomach. It was a pleasant sensation, but I still felt acutely uncomfortable.

Turning over to face her, I whispered, "I thought you said that I needed to get some sleep."

She kissed me gently on the lips, making me pull back a few inches. "I've been very lonely out here," she whispered back huskily.

It was hard to turn down such an obvious invitation. "I can understand that," I replied softly, kissing her back. Her lips were cool and remote.

"Tell me, have you been with many other women?"

I replied, "What kind of question is that in a time like this?"

Due to her proximity, I could feel her shrink back. "I've never been with anyone before. I've never had the chance before now." A tremble started at her shoulders and went the length of her body.

I put my arms around Suvan. She did not resist. I said gently, "A few years ago, there was a woman who meant a lot to me." I was thinking of poor Molli. "But she's dead now."

"There have been no others?"

"I'm not that old," I replied. "When I was just a teenager, both of my parents died from an unknown disease that ravaged the town. After their death, I was forced to take over the family business. There just isn't much time for dallying with the local maidens if you're busy running a hotel."

"Well, show me what you do know." Her voice was quavering with nervousness.

Even though I was exhausted from the events of the day, we proceeded to make love. Her inexperienced fumbling quickly became more confident. When I entered her, she wrapped her arms around my neck, gently moaning in my ear. The tight confines of the pit we had dug made for some interesting positions, but we did not stop until both of us were satiated. After we were done, she fell asleep wrapped in my arms. I smiled to myself, surprised by the recent turn of events.

We stayed in our hiding place for the rest of the night and through the next day. By then, the rain had disappeared, allowing the scorching sun to return with a fury. We spent our time eating, sleeping, and exploring each other's bodies. It wasn't until the sun had set that Suvan broke camp and started to guide me once again to the entrance of the valley.
Chapter 10

It was night. After a few more hours of hard traveling, we came to the entrance of the valley. From the moonlight above I could see the ground gradually sloping downward, ending in an opening between two massive stone slabs. Compared to the open space of the desert, it looked like a trap. I felt nervous. I swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in my throat down.

Suvan handed me the water-skin. "I'm sorry that I cannot offer you anything more than this," she said regretfully.

I hefted the weight of the water in my hand. "But how will you survive without this?"

She shrugged, the motion just a blur in the darkness of the night. "There is water back at my little camp, but I cannot spare you my bow or my sword. I'm afraid that you will be unprotected from the Mutans or any of the other numerous monsters that reside within the valley."

"I will figure something out," I said as bravely as I could.

She grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly. "Please don't go in there. You can return to my camp with me. I'll take you somewhere away from the reach of the Mujadeen. We can be together."

I shook my head. "The Mujadeen control everything but the Wasteland and the mountains beyond. I have to get there if I want to continue to live. Even if I run to another town, there is always the danger that some Mujadeen will recognize me."

Her hand dropped from my arm. She said coldly, "There is a stream in the valley if you look for it. The Mutan mostly stay together in the larger ruins, but there are other dangers that you must worry about. Just stay close to the cliff walls and don't do anything foolish."

Not knowing what to say, I bent over and gently kissed her on the cheek. She did not respond, but instead pulled back. I said haltingly, "Thanks again for saving my life."

Suvan turned and started to walk away. She said over her shoulder, "Go to hell." Before I could respond, she took off in a run and soon disappeared in the shadow of a nearby dune.

For a moment, I just stood there. I was not ready to face the unknowns of the city yet. Anyways, I already missed Suvan. Though I had only known her for just a short time, I liked her forwardness and beauty. I wondered if I would ever see her again.

My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I must find food soon. So with a heavy heart, I started walking down the slope to the entrance of the valley. In the sand, I could see deep paths cut by the treading of numerous Mutan feet. I wondered how Kalam and the other Rebels made it through here since the Mutan seemed to be everywhere. But still, they had made the journey, which at least gave me some hope of my own survival. The valley floor was flat, and as I progressed, the walls rose higher and higher into the sky. I suddenly stopped, amazed at what I saw. On the sides were several large black alien creatures, slowly inching across the stony surface of the valley sides. Because of the distance and darkness, I could not make out any details, but the thought of some new creeping horror unsettled whatever calm I had.

As I walked further, the ground began to widen out. At my feet, partially covered in sand, was a road built by the Ancients. It was broken and pot-holed, but I still recognized the uniform construction and direction. On the shoulders of this ancient street were curious mounds of a rather large size. I approached one cautiously and found that the lumps were made out of hollowed-out metal that was rusted and dirty. I wondered what purpose they once served. Perhaps they were used as storage, but I could not understand why they would be placed so close to the road. Then it dawned on me – these were cars, the vehicle of the Ancients that my father told me about. In his days, they were practically gone since the fuel to keep them running had long disappeared. I wondered if there were any running vehicles inside the city. It would be amazing to find such a thing and drive it.

My interest in the cars disappeared as soon as I saw the ruin ahead. It wasn't so much the building itself, but the realization that something could be watching me from within. Full of fear, I cautiously approached the destroyed building, half-expecting a mob of Mutans to pour out from the shattered doors. However, my anxiety was unfounded since there was nothing left of the ancient walls but twisted metal. In the remains of the gloomy interior, I could see nothing but the wreckage of whatever this building once held. A thick layer of sand covered the floor. There was a sign with flaking red paint that written in the same letters of the coded note I was carrying. That gave me food for thought – perhaps I could learn the secret language too.

As I continued down the dark road, the cars and buildings started to become more numerous. I was in awe of the Ancients. How could a civilization that built and did so much just destroy itself? It seemed impossible that their knowledge and power would just disappear, leaving only dust and rusted remnants. If anything, it just proved the folly of mankind and all of his aspirations. Everything we build and loved would, someday, be gone.

My dark thoughts were interrupted by a noise to my left. It was the faint sound of metal grating on metal. There was another building over there. Its roof had collapsed ages ago, leaving nothing but a jumbled wreck of rusting steel and broken concrete. However, the foundation was still intact with a black empty square indicating where a window once stood.

Suspecting Mutan activity, I silently crept in the direction of the building. As I left the road, my boots began kicking up dirt-covered glass shards, remnants of the windows of the destroyed building. Even though the valley had so far been sparse with vegetation, I noticed that the ground around this ruin was completely devoid of plants. I impulsively stopped, feeling unsure of myself. Something was definitely wrong with this place.

Around my right ankle, there was a sudden squeeze and then a violent pull. Before I could react, I fell over onto my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. My heart raced with panic as I realized that I was now being slowly dragged along the ground towards the foundation of the building. Looking down, I saw that I was being pulled by something that looked like a thick, black rope wrapped tightly around my ankle. The pressure was so hard that I could feel my foot going numb. I reached down and tried to unloop the rope around my ankle. As I touched the rope, I shuddered with disgust - it was scaly and had an unnatural warmth. I then realized it was alive. Some unknown monster was trying to pull me inside the ruin!

I kicked and struggled, but I still could not break the grip. I wished I had a sword. With my left foot, I began pushing against the tentacle, but its grip only increased in intensity. With my healing burns, the sudden burst of pain caused me to scream.

My left foot then hit something solid. It was the foundation of the building. Here was the hole, where the length of the tentacle disappeared inside. I could smell the strong stench of rotten flesh. Bracing my free foot against the concrete foundation, I pushed against the strength of whatever terrible creature was trying to devour me. As I locked my knee, the strength of the tentacle redoubled. I gritted my teeth, fighting to keep myself from getting drawn inside.

The grip on my ankle momentarily loosened. I thought for a moment that I would win against this inhuman strength, but that hope vanished when another tentacle emerged from the hole. I watched in horror as the second appendage ran along the edge of the foundation, almost like it was searching for whatever was impeding my entry into creature's lair. It was only a moment when my other ankle was found and the pulling began anew. I shut my eyes and strained against the impossible strength.

My strength was fading quickly. In vain, I cried out, "By Allah's mercy!"

Suddenly, I heard a swing of a blade slicing through the air. As I opened my eyes, I saw Suvan striking the taut tentacles with her sword. With two quick hacks, I was free. From under the ruin, came a horrific squealing that made my ears ring. I began scrambling away, thankful for the miraculous reprieve.

From out of that fetid hole burst a dozen or more tentacles, flailing randomly for a chance to strike at their attacker. As Suvan stepped back foot by foot, her sword began making a practiced crisscross pattern, the deadly blade slicing into any appendage that strayed too close. Her face was grim, but she did not panic as the creature pressed the attack. Since I did not have a weapon, I took this chance to run. I stumbled back to the road. Once Suvan was out of reach, she walked calmly over to join me.

She said disdainfully, "I couldn't leave you for less than an hour before you got into trouble? You men are insufferable."

My face burning with shame, I smiled broadly at Suvan, glad that she was here.
Chapter 11

Dawn was approaching, the glimmer of sunlight shining down from the cliff wall above. Pulling my arm, Suvan led me off the road to a small ruin. At one time it must have been a shed, but now the structure had collapsed on itself, leaving nothing but a tangle of debris. Part of the metal roof was still intact, lying on its side, half-covering a hole in the ground. After my last experience, I took a step backwards from this pit, unsure of what horror resided within.

"Come on," Suvan said impatiently. "It's completely safe. I've stayed here many times." And then she slipped headfirst under the metal and disappeared inside.

With some trepidation, I joined her. I found myself in an uncomfortable cavity that barely had enough room for the two of us to sit. It had the smell of dust and decay. An enterprising spider had once been at work here, leaving a mass of grey cobwebs that got into my hair.

"We will rest here," Suvan said. "Anyways, it's going to be daylight soon. The Mutans will be out in force."

"You said that you've been here before?"

She made a face. "I told you that there is no water in the Wasteland. At times I must return to the city to get that. I've hidden here before to stay out of sight from the Mutans."

I nodded. "Tell me, what was that creature that attacked me?"

She shrugged. "I do not know, nor do I care to know. It is evil. But you are lucky that I came along to save you."

"I would have been alright," I lied.

She laughed softly. "That I doubt. I have told you how dangerous this valley is, but you go walking down the road like you own the place. I told you to stay on the outskirts of the valley, but yet you go investigate anything that strikes your fancy. Why don't you listen to me?"

"I'm afraid I don't know any better since I'm new to this sort of life," I admitted. "Besides, I've never been out of Ewark before. The work of the Ancients fascinates me to no end."

With a sigh, Suvan shook her head. "I suppose I am used to their buildings and artifacts. They hold no interest to me except for the profit they bring. You'll get used to it with time."

"Tell me, would this city be worth the time to scavenge?"

"Yes, but the Mutans are too strong. It would take an army to dislodge them from the city. No merchant would take the pay the number of mercenaries needed for such an undertaking. My father had already written off the possibility and regretfully died when we were leaving for the last time."

I stared at her. "Why did you come back to the city for me?"

My question took Suvan by surprise. She had a hard time meeting my eyes when she finally replied. "I came back to help you. I couldn't leave you to die here."

Touched, I reached over and put my hand over hers.

She angrily pulled her arm back, freeing herself from my clasp. "That's not it, you fool."

"Then what?" I asked in exasperation.

"It's the way my father died. It's the way those traders were butchered. I can't let that happen to anyone else. The Mutans must not be allowed to have another victim. Now try to get some sleep. This is our only chance to get some rest and we still have a long way to go."

She said nothing more, but instead closed her eyes and almost immediately dropped off to a fitful sleep. Soon morning came, flooding the valley with the light of the sun. From our hiding place, I could see the Mutans using the nearby road. There were hundreds of them, each one armed with sword and bow. They paid no attention to our hiding place, but instead were marching east, towards the entrance of the valley.

"Where are they going?" I asked Suvan, shaking her arm.

Her eyes fluttered open. She answered sleepily, "To raid and plunder anyone who crosses into the Wasteland. Or beyond."

"Surely no one comes that far into the Wasteland."

"You saw those burned wagons of the traders. They often come from the northwest, hoping to save time by cutting across the Wasteland. But I think there is more to their raiding than that."

"What do you mean?"

She explained, "There are villages and towns on the edge of the Wasteland. The Mutans raid them for food. There are also easy pickings along the roads that the caravans use. At least that's what I have heard."

I shuddered at that idea. "But what are they?" I asked.

"What?" she asked with annoyance.

"I mean the Mutans, of course. They aren't human, and they only exist in the expanse of the Wasteland. Where did they come from?"

She shook her head and said impatiently, "Some say they were once like us, but living in such an evil place has warped their humanity. Perhaps they are some hideous leftover from the days of the Ancients. Or perhaps they have been cursed by Allah. But it doesn't matter. Right now, I suggest you get some sleep since we have a long night of hiking ahead of us. I will watch now."

I tried to sleep. Though Suvan thought this hiding place would never be discovered, I still felt exposed. Tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep dreaming of my old bed back at my now-destroyed hotel. It was stuffed with feathers and so soft. There wasn't a bed like it in all of Ewark.

I awoke with Suvan shaking my shoulder.

"You snore," she said grumpily. "I thought the Mutans were going to discover us by your sound alone."

"I'm sorry," I replied sleepily.

"It's your turn to watch," she said. "Wake me if you see anything coming our way."

The sky above was clear and through one of the openings, I could see almost a dozen strange creatures climbing the wall. They were the same things that I had seen last night. They were disgusting. With their long bodies and thick antennae, they looked like giant black, six-foot long crickets, but their crawling motion reminded me of nothing like that jumping insect.

"I saw those creatures on the cliff walls last night - what are they?" I asked Suvan who was trying to find a comfortable position.

"They're harmless," she replied crossly, obviously tired of all my questions. "They feed off the lichen on the walls. I have seen the Mutans hunt them for food before. Now stop asking so many questions and let me shut my eyes."

My watch started in the mid-afternoon. I stood at my post and kept on eye on the road. It was stifling inside the hole, and the iron sheet above us soon grew hot to the touch. It was boring watching so little. As the sun finally started to wane, I noticed that the nearby Mutan foot traffic began to decrease. However, as twilight came on, there was a sudden inrush of Mutans coming from the direction of the valley entrance. They were returning home, but to where?
Chapter 12

As dark fell, the Mutan disappeared from sight. I gently awoke Suvan, who yawned loudly before opening her eyes. We then silently ate a meal of dried lizard meat before finishing off the last of the water-skin. It wasn't much of a meal, and I was beginning to hunger for something else. With rations like this, I would become as thin as a knife.

"We shall have to get some water," she commented afterward. "It's only a little distance from here."

"Lead the way," I said.

Crawling out of our hole, we began walking along the outskirts of the ruins. Here I could see the towering wall of this side of the valley. The walls were widening out, making me wonder how exactly how large this valley was. The ruins were now more numerous, crowding closely together with a maze of rubble-filled streets and roads, Numerous remnants of cars could also be seen, the rusted metal pitted with time.

Suvan moved cautiously, silent as a ghost. Her eyes searched along the crooks and crannies of the debris. In the gloom of night, I saw a distant circle of flickering light ahead. Suvan also saw it, and she motioned for me to drop back behind her. We crept silently along, the empty, quiet buildings our only company. As we progressed, the light grew larger and larger. It was a roaring fire in a clearing next to a collapsed ruin. In front of that blaze was a score of huddled Mutans, resting on their haunches. We hurriedly hid behind a wrecked car.

"It's a Mutan outpost," Suvan whispered into my ear. "They're setup at various spots in the city."

"But why bother?" I replied. "Who do they expect to attack them?"

She shook her head. "I do not understand most of their behavior. But we still have to get around them without being seen."

"We can go further into the city and bypass them easily enough. Why take the risk of being so close?"

"Going into the city at night is not a wise choice," she said harshly. "It's unsafe. There are things here that are far worse than that tentacled horror that almost ate you."

"Then what would you have us do?"

"I will cause a distraction, and they will go after me. In the meanwhile, you can run across and meet me on the other side. There is a rusted bridge another four hundred yards further. It sits above the water that we need. It will be a suitable place for you to wait."

She was certainly brave, but I though her idea was foolish. I said, "I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice yourself for me, but we shall make it past together."

"You are no fighter," she said mockingly.

"Give me that sword of yours, and I can show what I can do," I retorted.

With a sigh, Suvan reluctantly drew out her sword and handed it over to me. In the darkness, I looked at the curved blade and felt the unfamiliar weight of steel in my hand. I was no swordsman, but I was willing to kill if it meant saving my own life. Hadn't I already killed two Mutans? I could do it again if I needed to.

"Let's move," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Taking her bow off her shoulder, Suvan adjusted the quiver of arrows at her waist. With a nod of her head, she began silently leading me down a ruined avenue. A few of the buildings were still standing, but the majority had fallen over, choking the street with debris. As we progressed, I saw out of the corner of my eye, the flame of Mutan fire growing brighter. Soon a low, ruined wall was all that separated us from them. From here I could hear their strange, garbled language.

Suvan moved silently like a cat. My own footsteps sounded loud as my boots slipped over the rough ground. My elbow accidentally struck the nearby wall. Suddenly, an ancient brick clattered off and fell heavily to the paved ground with a reverberating echo.

Suvan suddenly stopped. I nearly ran into her. I stood still, holding my breath. The low talk amongst the Mutan had ceased.

In the shadows, I could see Suvan slowly turn and face me. A forefinger hovered over her lips, signaling silence. I stood motionless, not even daring to breathe.

A guttural bark rang out, and I could hear the motion of feet heading in our direction. Suvan quickly tugged on my hand before taking off in a sprint. I followed suit, not caring this time if I was heard.

We burst out past the wall and into the open street. Suvan was a fast runner and was quickly gaining ground on me. Turning my head, I saw four Mutans coming from behind. Their wicked blades glinted from the weak light of the moon. I picked up my pace, running as hard as I could. In seconds it felt as if my lungs were going to burst. I had been living a comfortable life too long for this kind of adventure.

From the Mutan camp, a barrage of arrows suddenly passed over my head. Ahead, I heard Suvan give a scream. She dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

Catching up to her, I stopped and found her lying face down with an arrow sticking out of her right calf. She was desperately trying to pull it out, but it was wedged tightly into her flesh. In the darkness, the fresh blood on the ground looked black.

That was all I saw before I turned to face our attackers. They rushed at us with their swords held high and a malicious leer pasted on their twisted, alien faces. I held my sword at the ready. With a clang of steel, they attacked me. Our swords clashed together. The force of their combined blows made me stagger back a step. One of them tried to go low, lunging his blade at my mid-section. Through sheer luck I just managed to twist away unharmed.

Taking another step back, I then lunged at the closest attacker. My blade struck the Mutan fully in the chest, the blade penetrating almost up to the hilt. With a twist of my arm, he went down with an agonizing scream. The other combatants did not even hesitate upon seeing the death of their comrade, but instead took the chance to press the attack. The air was alive with swinging blades. It took all of my strength and whatever little skill I had to keep the remaining attackers at bay. Every step I took backwards took them closer to Suvan. I couldn't allow that to happen. I took a chance and decided to attack.

With a wide arcing sweep of my blade, I caught one Mutan unaware. The blade cleaved deeply into the creature's forearm, making him drop this weapon with an ear-splitting howl. Behind me, I heard the twang of an arrow being released from Suvan's bow. The arrow sunk deeply into the throat of another attacker, leaving only one standing.

The remaining Mutan showed no concern for his compatriots. He also showed no fear when he continued to violently swing his sword at me, aiming for my head. I parried his blow and used my superior strength to push him back a step. Though weaker, he was still incredibly fast. His sword suddenly slipped downwards, breaking contact with my blade before trying to plunge upward into my breast. It was only my long reach that gave me the scant time to turn away from this fatal strike. With this move, the Mutan had left himself exposed. Since I was now too close to use the sharp end of the sword, I instead used the hilt to rap the remaining Mutan hard on the head. He immediately sprawled to the ground, unconscious.

"Mikel!" Suvan shouted out, her voice wracked with pain.

I turned and found her sitting up with bow in hand. The Mutan arrow was still stuck deeply in her leg. I immediately reached down to pull it out.

She said impatiently, "Never mind that! We have to get moving before more Mutans come our way. They won't go far beyond the light of their bonfire. That's our only chance to escape."

I shoved the sword into my belt and picked Suvan up. With a grunt, I draped her over my shoulder and started to trot forward. She looked lighter than she felt. We were soon lost in the darkness of the ruins.

Following Suvan's whispered directions, we presently found ourselves standing at a narrow footbridge that was rusted dark from the years. Underneath my feet, I could hear a slow gurgle of passing water. As we crossed the ancient causeway, I looked down and saw a narrow stream, the moon shining off the moving water. The bridge led to path choked with small trees and thick weeds. We were safe for now.
Chapter 13

Morning had come. Suvan was sleeping under the tarp, her head resting on the weeds. Last night I had pulled the arrow from her calf, and she didn't even let out a whimper. I knew I would have screamed like a baby. Afterward, I had bound the wound tightly with an extra rag from her knapsack. There was little I could do but hope that the Mutan arrow tip had not been poisoned. Without a word, she had fallen into a fitful sleep as I ran my hand gently along her back as if petting a cat.

I took this moment to reconnoiter where we were. With the sword in hand, I began following the edge of the thin stream. At one time it must have been a large river since the ancient sandy banks were still evident. In the middle of the water, I could see a hulk of a small sailboat half-buried in the stream bed. The shore on the other side had a row of ruined buildings, their empty windows staring at me with silent foreboding. It was quiet here, but I still felt as if I was being watched.

As I walked along the meandering bank of this depleted river, I saw that the path of the water was curving. Perhaps we were on a small island. After a few minutes, my suspicions turned out to be correct when I came back to the bridge that we had first crossed last night. I followed the path inwards and found Suvan where I had left her. She was still sleeping, and since the Mutans were still nowhere to be seen, I decided to take the time to investigate the interior.

Here the trees and weeds grew thicker, forming a natural wall against trespassers. A rabbit jumped out of the underbrush and ran out of sight, reminding me that I still hadn't eaten this morning. I was getting tired of dried lizard, and the thought of fresh rabbit stew made my mouth water. Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I pressed on, forcing my way through a tangle of branches by using the sword to cut through the bramble.

A few dozen feet in there was a weather-stained concrete wall here, standing about twice my own height and ending on top with a flat roof which was thick with growing plants. The length of the wall went on for some twenty feet and was only broken by three small windows. Remarkably, the glass was still intact and glazed with grime. Peering inside, I couldn't see anything but darkness. Continuing onward, I slashed at the undergrowth. I followed the edge of the wall until I got to the corner. Here the entangled branches lessened and I was able to progress with less hindrance. I found another wall here with a wide metal door set into the wall. By some miracle, the door was still white even though there was no sign of paint. A hard rap with my knuckles revealed a hollow space behind the metal but I saw no obvious means of egress.

Frustrated, I continued my examination of this side of the building. Beyond the metal door, there was another corner. Once I went past this, I found a large attached concrete building with a series of unbroken but dirty windows, and a set of steps that led to a regular-sized door. This place looked like a home, but certainly unlike any house I had ever seen before. It was enormous at two-stories high and must have belonged to some wealthy man who was now long dead.

I felt like a trespasser to a tomb.

Not wanting to break the windows to gain entry, I climbed the stairs and tried the door. It was locked. This door was made of the same rust-free material as the other, but I put my shoulder hard into it. The hinges pulled easily away from the wooden frame, and the door fell inside with a crash, causing a plume of dust to rise from the floor. It was dim inside, but there was just enough light to see. I cautiously entered, feeling as if I should pay my respects to the dead.

The floor was covered with a thick inch of dust, while from the ceiling hung a thick tapestry of cobwebs. Hanging across the windows were the moth-holed remnants of curtains, the light from outside dimmed by years of dirt. There was also a sofa with legs that had collapsed to the floor and two chairs that faced a dusty gray panel attached to the wall. An opening, across from the front door, led to another room. Apart from the natural decay of time, the house still looked remarkably intact. With the concrete construction and closed egresses, the elements never had a chance to do their destructive work.

Deciding this was a good place to hole up until Suvan had a chance to heal, I returned to her. I found that she was awake, looking apprehensive from the sound of my footsteps until she saw it was me.

"I thought you left me," she whispered weakly.

I looked fondly at her. "I couldn't do that to the girl who saved my life."

"I have to apologize," she said with a trace of embarrassment.

"For what?"

"I didn't think you could fight, but you fought those four Mutans and won."

I shrugged. "It was nothing. Anyway, I had a little help from you. But we have to get you off of that ground so you can heal up. I found a house where we can stay."

She looked perplexed. "A house? Here on the island?"

"It was hidden in the undergrowth. It's in remarkably good shape with an intact roof. It will be a good place for you to rest until you are ready to go on."

"I have been to this island before to get water, but I never suspected there was a house here."

"Neither has anyone else. Other than my hotel, I've never seen such an intact building of the Ancients. There is even furniture inside that we can use."

Her eyes were alive with curiosity. "Take me there," she demanded.

I gently picked Suvan up, cradling her in my arms. She rested her head against my shoulder, her breathing quick and shallow. I carefully carried her to the house, vainly trying to keep the branches from striking her. Inside, I spread the tarp on the ruined sofa and then placed her on top.

Suvan looked over the room, her eyes wide as she marveled at the artifacts. "In all my visits to the cities, I've never seen a home of the Ancients that was not looted or ruined. It's a miracle that this has escaped notice for so long."

"Perhaps the builder of this place made it that way on purpose. It is our good fortune that he did. I don't think the Mutans even know of this place."
Chapter 14

As Suvan rested on the sofa, I started to carefully explore the rest of the home. From the front room, the next place to examine was the kitchen. It was dirty, the ceiling-mounted light covered with gray, dirty cobwebs. Under this lifeless light there was a dusty glass table surrounded by four chairs. A hallway with carpeting was to the left, while a closed door of wood was to the right. I recognized the sink, stove, and cupboards but could not make sense of some of the other objects there.

A large metal box, big enough to fit two of me, was shoved up against the wall. It had a chrome handle, so I gently pulled on it with no result. A harder tug and the door released itself from the grip of time. Inside there were boxes and containers labeled with strange blocky writing. There was also a faint odor of decay that reminded me of sour milk. Whatever material they once contained had long rotted away and turned to dust. Returning my interest to the cupboards, I found nothing inside but plates, glasses and the carcass of a dried-out centipede. The drawers turned up some blackened spoons, knives and forks.

Next, I tried the door on the right. It opened easily enough with the rusted hinges barely protesting the movement. This was a large room, the second ingress from the outside metal door that had stymied me before. Inside this area, there was nothing but a jumble of hoses and gardening equipment, the wooden handles looking dried and fragile.

Returning to the kitchen, I then ventured down the hallway which had four doors, two on each side. The first door practically fell apart when I opened it. This was a small narrow room with two sinks and a bathtub caked with dust. Fragments of a mirror were scattered on the floor and countertop.

In the next room, the door was already open. At one time it had been a bedroom. The curtains hanging above the window were nothing but tattered scraps, but the remnants of the large bed was still occupied. Lying on the moth-eaten covers was the mummified remains of a person. The skull had empty sockets that stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. The body was shriveled to a hideous gray, reminding me of a Mutan, and covered with moth-eaten rags. Clutched in the flesh-stripped hand was an object that I easily recognized – a pistol.

Wrenching the gun from the death grip of our host was no easy matter, but I soon had it in my possession. To my disappointment, the metal had long rusted away. Pointing the gun at the wall, I tried to pull the trigger, expecting some old magic to still exist, but nothing happened. Disappointed, I threw the gun back on the bed and continued on.

The other room was also a bedroom, but was empty except for the decayed furniture.

The last door led to a stairway heading upwards.

"Suvan?" I called down the hall.

"Yes, Mikel?" her ghost of a voice answered from the front room.

"I haven't found anything yet, but I'm headed upstairs to take a look around. Call me if you need anything."

"Don't be gone for long," she said. "This place is starting to scare me a little bit."

I took the stairs cautiously, each step creaking ominously as the aged wood protested the sudden weight of my body. The stairs ended in a large room that took up the entire second story. At one time, it must have been a beautiful place, for the walls at the back of the house were nothing but glass. Even the ceiling had a row of glass windows but they were now covered with the decayed flora that rested on the roof above. The trees here were now growing close to the house, making the outside light turn green as it shone through a canopy of leaves.

Through this vision of rippling fauna, I could see two wooden easels with paintings that had long ago faded away. On the walls there were more paintings that were now nothing but faint images. There were also the remnants of a sofa and a nearby long box with brass ends. The box immediately drew my attention since, except for the dust, it was in remarkably good condition.

I walked slowly over to it, the floor creaking uncertainly. I got down on my knees to examine the box more closely. With my sleeve, I dusted it off and found that the box was heavily covered in green paint with yellow lettering that was unfamiliar to me. There was a clasp on the front so I gave it a twist before pulling up on the lid. It was a tight fit, but I eventually managed to wrestle the box open. Inside, there were some objects wrapped in greasy paper. I nervously lifted them out before unwrapping them.

The heaviest package was a perfectly preserved, all-metal pistol that was covered in a thick coating of grease. The second package was a covered jar of oil with a dozen small metal cases inside. I didn't know what they were, so I went back to examining the gun. I had never used one before, and the only gun I had ever seen was used by the sub-Vizier.

With a scrap of dusty rag, I began wiping the pistol clean, examining the parts as I went. I accidentally released a catch, and the multi-chamber cylinder swung out. Once I examined and cleaned the chambers of oil, I realized the metal cases in the jar would fit perfectly. It dawned on me that the hammer on top of the gun would strike the end of the metal case, firing the bullet attached to the other end. I had seen the sub-Vizier fire the gun at me, but could I somehow make this ancient weapon work too?

I removed one of the metal cases from the jar, marveling at the compact machining of the Ancients. I snugged it into a chamber and closed the cylinder. With my hands shaking, I pointed the gun at the wall. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a click but nothing else happened.

Opening my eyes, I examined the cylinder again. The case I had inserted wasn't lined up with the hammer. This time I spun the cylinder forward until the case was lined up. I pulled the trigger again. With an ear-splitting crack, the bullet plunged into the wall, shattering the plaster in a most satisfying manner. I now had a weapon that could even the odds with anything I could possibly encounter.
Chapter 15

We spent an entire week in the house, waiting for Suvan to heal. Upon the first examination, I had found that her wound was particularly nasty. Once I had boiled some water, I carefully cleaned the deep gash, removing whatever dirt I could find. Then using a needle and thread, I sewed the scraps of flesh together. She was strong girl and managed not to cry out in pain. She then spent most of her time on the sofa, resting,

The house felt strange, almost haunted. It was like the spirits of the dead still walked through the halls and rooms. I always felt uneasy sleeping inside, even after I had dragged the corpse out to bury, deep in the forest. I spent most of my time exploring the island, hunting for food with the bow as I went. With the fresh water from the stream and the availability of rabbits and birds, we were soon both gaining weight.

When she could finally walk, Suvan limped around the house, examining the various artifacts. From her experience, she explained the workings of the refrigerator and oven, and how the Ancients used the power of electricity to make them work. No one knew how to make electricity anymore, but it seemed like a wondrous invention, if not a little short-sighted. Who would want to depend on anything so ethereal? Man could always depend on the burning of wood and the light of the oil lamp.

In the kitchen, she had found a container, made from that wondrous material called plastic, which would be suitable for carrying water. I added that to my belt to carry. She was most amazed by the pistol I had discovered, claiming it was the only one she had ever seen. "These are rare," she exclaimed as her hand gently brushed over the metal workings.

I said proudly, "I've only seen one myself in the hands of the sub-Vizier. Only the most important men have them."

"They are worth a fortune."

I laughed. "I'm afraid there is no one here to buy it. Anyway, I prefer to keep it. There are eleven shots left, and they may save our lives someday."

She shrugged. "Though I am a scavenger and know these cities well, I still do not trust these tools of the Ancients. The bow and the sword are more reliable."

I replied, "The string of the bow can snap. The sword gets nicked and dull with use. Like all things, they are just tools that must be cared for. The gun is no different, but is vastly more powerful."

She motioned at the dusty walls of the house. "The Ancients had everything –technology that we can only dream of. But still, they are dead and gone. What did all these powerful things get the poor owner of this home? He couldn't face the destruction of the old world, so he decided to kill himself. That gun could not save his life."

"That was then, and this is now," I replied, wanting to drop the subject.

Seeing my discomfort, she smiled. "It really doesn't matter to me what you do with that pistol. I just don't trust anything that I do not understand."

"I do not fully understand it myself, but it will serve to protect us."

We spent the last day here preparing provisions and filling our containers with water. I really did not want to leave this oasis of the Wasteland, but I knew we couldn't stay here much longer. During the day, I had seen several Mutans coming to the stream to fill their water jugs. The trails leading to the island also indicated that they had been here before, so it was best to leave before Suvan and I were accidentally discovered.

As the sun slipped away, we left the island and returned to the trail that followed the canyon wall. With each block of streets we passed, the ruins were becoming larger and the nearby streets more crowded with rubble. In the light of the half-moon, I could see that some of the buildings had still managed to stand upright, the skeleton framework showing through the broken windows and collapsed floors. It was eerily quiet. The world of the Ancients was dead, and only ghosts of the past existed. It was obvious that Kalam and the Rebel Scouts had gone through this area on horseback, using their speed to quickly traverse through the dangers. On foot, this was an entirely different situation since we were at the mercy of the Mutans or any other strange beast that inhabited this wretched place.

It was almost dawn when stopped to look for a place to hole up for the day. We were passing by the intersection of two streets. Out of habit, I looked down the gloomy road to check that we were not being observed. To my amazement, I thought I saw someone standing in front of a building that was some one hundred yards away. Though the moonlight was waning, I knew it wasn't a Mutan because this figure stood taller than any of those twisted creatures. In my excitement, I pulled on Suvan's sleeve and pointed at this sight.

She asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"Don't you see it?"

Suvan began looking over the street. It was only a moment before she let out a gasp. She then took me by the hand, and we started cautiously down the street, using the destroyed cars as cover. We stopped some ten yards away, seemingly undetected. At this distance I saw it was a man dressed in tattered clothes. He did not notice us but continued to stare ahead, standing as still as a statue.

"I'm going to take a closer look" I whispered into Suvan's ear.

"No, wait!" she shouted as I broke from her grasp.

Foolishly ignoring her warning, I stepped out onto the street and quickly approached the man. I could her Suvan's footsteps behind me. She was warning me to stop. When I was within touching distance, the ground underneath my feet began to immediately break away. I felt Suvan grab my arm, but it was too late. The dirt underneath crumbled. We fell together into a hidden pit.

After a second of falling, I hit the bottom hard, knocking the breath out of me. At the same time, Suvan landed next to me with a grunt. We were immediately engulfed in a cloud of dust which only added to the confusion.

"Are you alright?" I sheepishly asked Suvan.

"I don't think anything is broken," she replied crossly as she found my hand.

Until the dust settled, we sat there, clutching each other like children. We soon found ourselves in the bottom of a rough pit that was approximately six feet in diameter. The opening above was some fifteen feet away. The immobile figure that drew me to this trap was resting on my feet. It wasn't a man at all, but some type of statue made from a light plastic material.

"You fool," Suvan said now that the shock had abated. "This was a trap set by the Mutan. They used this old shop dummy as bait and you fell for it."

"You didn't seem to catch on that fact too quickly either," I grumbled.

"I'm not the one who walked right into this pit," she spat out. "I was warning you, but you weren't listening."

I shrugged. "We're lucky - at least they didn't plant the bottom with stakes."

"As you found already out, the Mutan prefer to cook their food alive," Suvan sharply reminded me. "We only have a few minutes before sunrise, so we had better start working on a way out of here before some Mutan comes along and discovers us."

"We can try," I said with little hope since from here the task looked nearly impossible.

At first I tried to climb up the sides, but the walls of the pit were too steep. They were also roughly cut, and any purchase I found quickly crumbled in my hands. I fell back with exasperation. For the next attempt, I merely braced my shoulders against a wall and had Suvan climb on top of me. As her toes dug painfully into the top of my shoulders, she tried to reach the edge.

"It's too far away!"

"Jump for it," I said through gritted teeth. Her position shifted, sending waves of pain through my shoulders. She jumped. A shower of dirt struck my head as I took a step backwards and looked up. She was hanging onto the edge, but the ground there was already giving away from her weight. She soon fell, but I was able to catch her. We collapsed together into a heap.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, rubbing my jaw where her head had connected in the fall.

"I'm fine," she replied grumpily.

"We will have to dig our way out of here," I said, as I eyed the edge of the pit.

"That will take hours and there isn't enough time." As she spoke, her words were punctuated by the lightening of the sky above. Dawn was coming, which meant the Mutans would soon be out, prowling the streets.

"We don't have much choice," I replied testily.

My idea was to dig on one side of the pit, causing the wall to collapse. We could stand on this mound, eventually creating an angled slope leading to freedom. It would be dangerous work since we both risked being buried alive if the wall came down too quickly. I started gingerly, removing handfuls of dirt at a time. Suvan joined in to help. The sun above was getting higher with every moment. As our work slowly progressed, I noticed that the color of the earth here was darker than above. This was rich soil, suitable for farming and completely unlike the desert above. What had happened here to cauase such a change? This was another mystery to consider at some other time. Any further thought in this direction was interrupted by the movement I saw above us. A human head with long gray hair peeked over the edge, the eyes boring into us.

"Hoo-Hoo!" the man laughed. "I never expected to catch anything like this!"

"This is your trap?" I called out.

"Of course it is!" he replied with a giggle. "Who else could it be?"

"I thought it was the Mutans," I answered.

"Hoo-Hoo!" he laughed again. "Those silly things could never make anything so clever – so wonderfully ingenious as this! And you fell for it! Hoo-Hoo! That's the funniest thing I have ever seen."

I looked at Suvan who shook her head, her eyes filled with distrust.

"Could you help us out of here?" I asked hopefully.

"Well, I don't know."

"Please," Suvan said. "It won't be much longer before the Mutans come patrolling the streets. You will captured along with us."

"Hoo! They wouldn't dare touch me. Now hold on a second."

His face disappeared from the edge. Soon a slim rope uncurled down into the pit. It was made of a thin blue material that was slippery to the touch. I motioned to Suvan to take the rope. She started climbing up, bringing an avalanche of dirt down on me. She was soon out. I followed suit and after a difficult scramble, found myself back on the street.

There Suvan was standing still, but her bow was out with an arrow notched and ready to go. As my eyes followed the direction of her gaze, I saw that we were surrounded by hundreds of Mutans. They were standing completely still on both sides of us, blocking both sides of the street. The man who had rescued us was a few feet away. With his back to us, the stranger was busily untying the rope that was attached to a destroyed car. He straightened up and began winding the rope up into a tidy coil. He then turned and took a few steps towards us. I saw the eyes of all the Mutans follow his every move.

"Now you're safe and sound," the man said, his eyes going over Suvan in a lustful manner that I found off-putting.

"What about them?" Suvan spat out.

His eyes were shining with delight. "Oh, they won't hurt you as long as you are with me. Now come on, follow me."

He walked towards the Mutans, who parted to let him pass. Without showing any interest towards these gray-skinned monsters, he led us to a trash-filled stairway protected by a cracked concrete wall. We followed him down into the gloom below.
Chapter 16

The concrete steps led to a dark, cavernous space that rang with echo of our feet. Here the old man took a torch propped against the wall and lit it. The flickering flame revealed that we were standing on a wide ledge made with cracked tiles. A number of columns supported the roof above. There was a tunnel on the far side that passed through the room. Without a further word, he brought us down a small flight of stairs that led to the tunnel. Beneath our feet were four ribbons of unbroken but rusted metal that disappeared into the darkness. The atmosphere was dusty and foul, but I was relieved to see that the Mutans had not followed us down here.

Suvan finally spoke. "What is your name?" Her words echoed down the tunnel, fading into a whisper.

"My name? I don't really remember," the old man replied uncertainly.

"Everyone has a name," Suvan stated.

After a hollow laugh, he said, "I'm usually called the Old One, but Tahn will suffice."

"Tell me, Tahn," I said. "Where exactly are we?"

He giggled. "The Ancients called it a subway. There used to be vehicles that rode on the iron rails here, ferrying people through the city. These tunnels snake under the streets, with the stations giving access to the ground above. I've found them to be the best way to travel without hindrance. Of course some of the tunnels are very dangerous so it's good to know your way around here."

I tried to think of something like cars driving underground, but I had a hard time imagining why anyone would want to do that. It was much better to see the sun than travel through a gloomy passageway like this.

Suvan, being more practical, asked, "Where are you taking us?"

Tahn replied grumpily, "Questions, questions – do either of you ever run out of questions? We are going to my home, of course. There we can talk and have something to eat, my dear."

Suvan was the persistent type. She asked, "Can you tell me why the Mutans leave you alone?"

He sighed. "They have always left me alone. They left my father alone and his father before that. My family has lived in this city since the beginning of time. The Mutans have the decided that we are wise in the ways of the Ancients. Since they are descended from the power of the Ancients, then my wisdom is sacrosanct."

"So you are like a holy man to them?" I asked, skeptical of such an outlandish idea.

Tahn shrugged. "You could call me that."

"What about that trap of yours that we fell into? Was that to capture the Mutans?"

"Hoo-Hoo! The Mutans? There is nothing to discover there," he replied cryptically. "No, I was looking for new specimens to add to my collection. There are always new creatures being born in the Wasteland and especially here in the city. I study them. Now no more questions."

I glanced at Suvan who just shrugged her shoulders in resignation.

We continued walking. In the darkness of the tunnel, time and distance lost all meaning. Tahn's torch was the only light source, the flames casting our long shadows against the dirty brick walls. After passing several more silent stations, we finally stopped at a metal door tucked into the side of the wall.

With a gentle tug by Tahn, the door swung open with ease to reveal a flight of stairs.

"I hope you are not tired," he said. "We have a long climb in front of us. I do promise you good lunch though. It has been a long time since I've had company."

"I will be fine," Suvan replied.

"As will I," I said.

Tahn giggled again, a habit that I was finding most annoying. He said, "Very well, I hope so."

We started climbing. The stairs were perfectly preserved, and I noticed from the sound of our boots that they were made of metal which been painted white many times. Every dozen steps, the stairs stopped at a landing with a metal door. Each door had a number painted on it that incremented as we went up. By the time we reached number twenty, my breathing was becoming labored. I saw that Suvan was also tiring from the effort, but to my dismay, Tahn was only looking amused. He seemed to suffer no ill-effects from the climb. Perhaps he was used to it.

"Hoo-Hoo! I thought you two youngsters would be able to keep up with me."

"Don't worry about me," Suvan managed to gasp out.

I kept my tongue and said nothing, instead concentrating on the task at hand.

We did not stop climbing the stairs until we reached a door painted with the number thirty-two. Tahn extinguished the torch by dumping the lit end into a bucket of sand. He then opened the door for us, flooding the stairwell with sunlight. Suvan and I entered, blinking.

After my eyes adjusted, I saw that we were in a massive room with a ceiling supported by row of evenly-spaced pillars. There were jumbles of Ancient artifacts piled up everywhere, along with a messy bed and a table of a modest nature. The most amazing part was the walls. They were nothing but glass all the way around. The building we were in stood deep in a group of skeletal ruins made of metal and fragments of glass. Below, the streets were laid out in regular pattern. To the east, I could also see the riverbed and the trickle of water it carried. The view at the horizon was spectacular with the walls of the canyon clearly visible. I felt like I could see for miles.

Suvan let out her breath. "It's amazing!"

Tahn cackled with delight. "I'm glad you think so, my dear."

I waved a hand in the direction of the other buildings. "Compared to those ruins, why is your place so free of decay?"

"It's a lot of hard work, but before I tell you that story, let's have some food first."

"What exactly do you eat?" I asked, imagining rats or even Mutan flesh.

"Let me show you," he replied proudly.

Tahn then led us back to the stairway. We climbed upwards again, but only went up one flight to the last landing. We went through the doorway to the roof of the building. Here we were inside a glass structure that was exceedingly humid. On the floor were long wooden troughs with healthy plants growing inside. I immediately recognized tomatoes, melons, lettuce, green beans and a myriad of other produce. I had never seen anything like this before. Who had ever heard of growing plants indoors?

Tahn was talking proudly. "The greenhouse provides me with all the food I need. The water comes from the rain-filled cistern tanks above. It all works rather well, though I'm getting too old to bend while working on the garden. Now let's return downstairs and have some lunch."

Lunch turned out to be a vegetable stew. It wasn't particularly tasty, but it was still better than lizard meat. Afterward, he brought out three glasses of red wine. It wasn't very good either, but it beat the water I had been drinking the past few days.

As we drank, Tahn started rambling at length. "You have been through the Wasteland and survived long enough to make it into the heart of the city. You have seen how dangerous it is out there, with the murderous Mutans and the other evil creatures that live to kill. There is no place of safety other than this building of mine. There is fresh food and fresh water. The Mutans dare not approach me."

"That is all true," I agreed, wondering why he was telling us this.

He continued, "I need help here. The building requires constant repair and maintenance to stop Father Time from taking what is rightfully his. The gardening alone takes up hours of time every day. I need more free time for research – to figure out what makes the technology of the Ancients tick and what causes the creatures to mutate while here in the Wasteland." He looked at me. "Would you be willing to help out?"

"We could stay for a few days and help," I replied thankfully. I was glad for another chance to rest, before we pushed on to the mountains.

"I guess so," Suvan replied with little conviction.
Chapter 17

That afternoon, while Suvan was sent out to begin working on the garden, I followed Tahn down to another level of the building. Instead of a great room like the floor he lived on, my eyes were greeted with a dimly lit hall. The only visible light was from the torch in my hand and a faint light coming from the cracks around the several doors.

"This is one of my many laboratories," Tahn commented as he reached for the nearest door handle. "Each floor has, let's say, a different interest." He ushered me inside, where I nearly dropped the torch in disgust. The far wall had two dingy windows that let the light from outside filter in. In the center of the room was a shiny metallic table surrounded by four unlit oil lamps. But what rested on the table was a horrid thing that defied my imagination,

The motionless creature was roughly the size of a man, but the structure of the bone and purple skin made a unique, almost baroque structure. With three long spindly legs, a fat, almost bulbous torso, and five thick arms, I thought that such a monster could never possibly walk unaided. The pale, red face bore no resemblance to anything human or animal, looking like a distorted assembly of unrelated parts. There were five eyes, arranged in a haphazard fashion around two holes that must have served as nostrils. There were two mouths, each one located on a cheek, that were bared open to reveal a row of razor-like teeth.

"He's a beauty, isn't he?" Tahn said with glee.

I swallowed, pushing the rising bile back into my throat. "Where did you find such a horrible thing?"

He laughed in such a manner that sent a chill down my spine. "You'll be surprised what turns up in some of the darker corners of the city. I have seen things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. But come, help me get ready to dissect this specimen. Light the lamps and lay out the instruments. I will then instruct you on the proper methods of surgery."

After I lit the oil lamps and laid out the equipment as he suggested, I stood aside and watched as Tahn went to work. He had a deft hand with the scalpel, cutting into the flesh with practiced ease. The organs inside were removed, each one was then closely examined. Once that part was done, he used a saw to remove the top the skull. The brain tissue was carefully removed and examined, before being placed inside of a labeled jar. I now speak of all these actions with a sense of detachment, but when I was actually there, I could barely stand the horror. All the while, my insides felt like jelly. I just wanted to look away, but Tahn made sure to pepper me with comments and questions as he did his terrible work.

When that was all finished, the carcass was covered with a rough cloth. We then worked together, lifting the remains off the table and placing it on a cart. From there, I pushed it out of the room and down the hall. With Tahn's help, I wrestled the body into a metal chute where it disappeared below.

I asked distastefully, "And what exactly did you learn from doing that?"

"Not much," he replied, obviously not picking up on my apparent disgust. "It's a fairly common humanoid mutation, perhaps even related to the Mutans. But it is worthless for what I'm working on."

"And what exactly are you working on?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He smiled, his eyes gazing into nothingness. "Why to improve my flock, of course."

"The Mutans?" I asked, incredulous.

He spoke like a loving father. "They are like my children. Like any loving parent, I only want to make sure they survive this world."

"But they kill and eat people," I protested. "How can you be party to such a horrible thing?"

He stared at me, his expression unfathomable. "I have my own reasons. Would you like to see where the Mutans are born?"

"I'm not sure," I replied with a renewed sense of sickness.

"Come now, it isn't as bad as that." And with those words, Tahn led me to the stairway where we took several more flights down until we reached floor twelve. He opened the door and let me pass first.

The stench inside was unbearable, reminding me of excrement and rotted flesh. This was a large area that took up the entire floor. Rows and rows of foot-wide metal boxes were on the floor, small gray hands clambering to get out. The sound of the little prisoners was a mix of horrific wailing and toddler gibberish. A line of windows provided the light, though I wished such a sight as I am about to mention would have been forever invisible. In the middle of the room sat a gigantic pod of flesh, some twenty feet long and horribly mottled with gray spots. On one end was a large orifice that oozed some yellowish liquid, the substance staining the floor. On the other side was the body of a Mutan, but with vacant black eyes, small breasts and spindly arms. My stomach lurched when I finally realized I was seeing the female of the species.

Tahn sounded like a lovelorn teenager when he said, "She's beautiful, isn't she? My father's father discovered her in the lowest, darkest part of the city. In a place that is even deeper than the subways. He brought her back here to experiment on, wondering how such a thing could exist. Of course she was smaller then, but took readily to a steady diet of meat and vegetables. To his amazement, when given his seed, there was offspring. That's how the first Mutan was created."

"His seed?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes, he was the original father of the Mutans. Just like I am their father now."

I felt a strong urge to run this man through with my sword, but I stopped myself. Suvan and I needed to escape, but we were trapped right in the heart of the Mutans, without a clear way out. Killing this insane man would only hasten our death.

Tahn suddenly said, "You've seen enough for today. Perhaps more than I should have shown, but I can't help but brag about my accomplishments. Now let's go eat some dinner."

When we arrived at the top floor, the light of the sun was already starting to fade. We found Suvan was still busy in the garden, intently removing weeds from the soil, and from the cistern, watering the plants. Her face was streaked with dirt and her clothes had definitely seen better days.

Tahn watched her with bright and shiny eyes. It was sickening. I felt a burst of jealous anger course through my veins. It was abominable to think of this disgusting old man even thinking of her in such a manner.

He said, "Perhaps you two had better clean up before we eat," he suggested. "You can use water from the cistern. I will go and prepare dinner."

Suvan readily agreed to this idea and took a bucket to get the water. After Tahn had left, I followed her outside to help.

As the water ran into the bucket, I said to her in low tones, "We must escape tonight when the Mutans are sleeping."

She nodded, the movement barely visible. "I don't like the way he is looking at me.""

"Trust me, you won't believe what I just saw. But I'll tell you later. There isn't enough time right now."

"But how do we get out of here?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps we can backtrack the way we came."

After we had washed, the two of us returned inside and went to the floor below. Tahn was cooking, and the familiar smell of simmering vegetables greeted my nostrils. I felt sick, the memory of what I had just seen was still too strong for my stomach. After the food was done, Tahn bade us to sit at the table. After we were seated, he poured out some wine and ladled out the stew.

As we ate and drank, Tahn kept quiet, which was unexpected. Instead of talking, he kept glancing between the two of us as if expecting something would happen. Though I had only tasted the wine once before, it now had an unfamiliar tang to it. I stopped drinking, but pretended to do so by placing the rim of the glass against my lips. Nonetheless, the tiny amount that I had consumed was having an effect on me. My head felt thick with sleep.

"I feel so tired," I managed to blurt out. I wanted Tahn to think I was close to unconsciousness.

Ignoring my words, he turned his attention to Suvan who, by now, barely had her eyes open. She had consumed more wine than me. He finally spoke: "It is lonely being here. My father and mother are dead, so I'm the last one alive to carry out the work that my ancestors started so long time ago. When I am gone, someone will need to carry on with my work and keep this place going. I need someone to give me a son."

My jaw dropped in astonishment.

Those words took a moment to register with Suvan. Her head jerked up. "You can't mean me?" she gasped weakly.

"Who else would I mean, my beautiful girl?"

"I can't, I can't," she murmured and then abruptly slumped over onto the table.

I tried to stand up to protest, but I found my legs were like lead.

Tahn smiled at me. "Now you two get some sleep. You will need it tomorrow since I have plenty more work for the both of you."
Chapter 18

I fell partially unconscious, but I could still feel someone rummaging through my jacket. After a moment, there was the sound of paper being unfolded. I then heard Tahn laugh, the sound piercing the layers of the drug. I still felt strangely disconnected from reality, but now I had the strength to pry my eyes open. What I saw at that moment filled me with revulsion. Tahn was standing over a sleeping Suvan, running his hands greedily along her narrow body.

He was muttering to himself. "Oh, she is a pretty one."

The anger inside me brushed away any lingering sleepiness I felt. Before Tahn even knew what was happening, I rose from my chair and struck him solidly in the side of the head. He moaned, crumpled over and slid off to the side. Suvan did not even react to this burst of violence but continued to sleep.

I pulled her roughly up from the chair. I then began walking Suvan around the room in a vain attempt to wake her up. Her toes dragged uselessly on the floor. After a couple of circuits around the room, I began to tire so I placed her back on a chair. I shook her shoulders and yelled in her face. To my relief, Suvan finally peeled opened her eyes.

She looked at me distastefully. "What is it?"

"Come, we must leave now!"

"What is your hurry?" she asked sleepily before shutting her eyes again. Immediately, a light snore gurgled past her throat.

Shaking my head, I decided to let her rest a few minutes more. I would spend the time packing some food so we could leave before Tahn awoke. Looking at the floor where had fallen, I saw to my astonishment that he had disappeared. A quick search of the room revealed nothing. Tahn had managed to leave without a trace. That was hardly surprising since he knew the building better than anyone. I moved quickly, filling our canteens with water and the backpack with whatever food I could find. On the dining table I found my map to the Rebel hideout and the note from Tai. I wondered if Tahn found any interest in either one. I then shook Suvan. This time she managed to stay awake, her eyes blurry with sleep.

"Where is Tahn?" she asked, looking over the room.

I answered, "I'm not sure what you remember, but he drugged the wine. It seems that he wanted us to stay here permanently. I was to be his slave while you were to be his wife."

She made a face of disgust. "That old man? I would never."

"I don't think he was going to give us much choice in the matter. He may be old, but he also knows much about the Ancients. Who knows what he could have done? He could have killed me, so I wouldn't be around to protect you. I suggest we leave before he comes back."

Upon hearing this, Suvan stood straight up with a new blaze of energy. "There's no time to waste."

We left, taking the door to the stairs. The torch that Tahn used was gone. Instead we propped the door open and started to descend into the gloom below. The already dim natural light of the top floor was gone in just two flights of stairs. We were soon lost in near darkness. Luckily some minor light still filtered from under the doors on the landings. It wasn't much, but it was enough for us to slowly make our way down to the first floor.

"Should we take the tunnels?" I asked.

"If we don't have a light, then we will be lost down there."

"But I fear the number of Mutans on the surface. It is still day after all."

"Not for long. But we shall have to find somewhere to hide until night comes. I will feel even safer when we leave this accursed city."

We reached the first floor without incident, neither seeing or hearing any sign of Tahn. I tried the door and to my relief, it opened easily enough. The stench of death hit me square in the face, almost causing me to retch. Here there was a long corridor that led to the left and right. Along the walls were steel doors set every ten or so feet. The floor was set with gray tile that had a thin film of dust. In this dust there were wheel tracks that looked to have been made with the same cart I had used above.

Suvan was covering her nose with a hand. "What is this place?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "From what I've already seen, I bet it isn't very pleasant."

Trying the handle of the nearest door, it swung open noiselessly. Inside was a small room with two levels of shelves on each side of the wall. The shelves had white sheets covering objects of differing sizes. Directly across from the door there was also a large unbroken window that was streaked with dirt. Metal bars covered the outside. The remaining daylight filtered dimly through the glass. A rubble-filled street could be seen.

Plucking up my courage, I entered the room and approached a shelf. Suvan remained in the doorway, watching me with large eyes. I gritted my teeth and grabbed a corner of the sheet. With a quick yank, the cloth fell to the floor. What was revealed was a monstrous creature that looked like a childish version of a Mutan. I was reminded of the little groping hands of the Mutan birthing room. Perhaps this one was not strong enough to live. The misshapen eyes stared lifelessly at me. I pulled another sheet free and my eyes were greeted by yet another Mutan child. I couldn't make any sense of why Tahn would keep such things.

Turning my attention back to Suvan, I saw that she was looking sick. I said gently, "Come on, let's go."

Taking her by the hand, we continued on, looking for a way out of this madhouse. At the end of the hallway there were two doors hung together. They had small windows set at eye level. The panes were yellow with age but were still transparent. I peered through and saw a large room with a metallic table in the middle of the floor. On top of this slab there was a motionless human-like creature. Around this were two smaller tables with knives, rust-stained saws, and jars filled with dark liquids. It was the scene right out of a nightmare. However there was another door on the far side of the room. I didn't know where it lead, but I wasn't about to find out.

"What's in there?" Suvan asked in a low voice full of fear.

"I don't want to know," I replied through clenched teeth. I didn't want to let on how scared I actually was. "Let's go the other way."

As I turned, the double door down the other side of the hall swung open. It was Tahn. Behind him was a horde of Mutans, their blades held at the ready. With a wave of his hand, the creatures rushed down the hall towards us with a fearsome cry.

Shoving Suvan through the doors behind me, I reached into my pocket and took out the pistol. There wasn't enough time to take careful aim but I was bound to hit something the way they were bunched together. With a flick of the trigger, the gun fired. With a satisfying bang, the lead Mutan fell like a rag. But this did not stop the others who continued on with their frontal assault.

I pulled the trigger three more times, each shot easily finding a target. The Mutans fell over their dead compatriots into a mass of sprawling bodies. I took this chance to duck behind the doors. Except for the corpse, the room was empty. But the door on the other side was open. With two strides, I was through. It was some type of supply room filled with boxes and hardware. Suvan was cowering in the corner, her eyes wide with fear. I quickly shut the door behind me, looking for a way to block it from further entry since there was no lock.

"Help me out!" I shouted at Suvan.

She rose from her stupor and we began piling up boxes against the door.

"This won't hold them," she hissed.

"We can't go through them," I shot back.

"What's that?" Suvan suddenly said as she pointed to a grating on the wall.

The stacked boxes against the door began to rock back and forth. The Mutans were trying to push their way through. Leaving Suvan to steady our barricade of boxes, I quickly went over to the grate. It was just large enough for a person to crawl through. I saw that the screws on each corner were rusted with age. With a hard yank, I pulled the ancient metal free from the wall, breaking the screws in the process. A small tunnel of sorts led into the darkness.

"Get in there!" I shouted to Suvan.

She was busy pushing against the boxes, but failing against the bulk of the massed Mutans. The door started to reluctantly open, revealing a clawing gray hand. I impatiently reached over and physically pushed her towards the open grate. Suvan took the hint and disappeared into the tunnel. I followed behind, pulling the grate in with me. It closed just as the Mutans broke open the door and rushed into the room.

I waited in the shadows, my pistol in hand. The foul beasts screamed in rage when they found that we had somehow disappeared. Boxes and equipment were tossed aside as they vainly searched for us. I took this moment and slowly crept backwards into the gloom of the narrow tunnel.
Chapter 19

The tunnel was dark, narrow, and dusty – smelling of many years past. It was made of metal that rippled with sound as we went. Cobwebs got entangled in my hair and I could only imagine the state of my already abused clothing. Ahead I could see the dark form of Suvan edging blindly forward. To my relief, the sound of the Mutans became more distant with every passing moment. The passageway soon ended at an intersection that divided into a left and right passageway.

"Which way do you want to go?" Suvan whispered. Her frightened voice echoed against the metallic walls.

"It doesn't matter," I replied with as much confidence as I could muster. "Take any direction you want as long as it gets us away from those infernal creatures. It will only be a matter of time before Tahn figures out where we have gone."

"But surely the Mutans won't follow us down here. They are afraid of the dark."

I chuckled. "Once he has them organized and with torches, they will surely follow his orders, darkness or not."

Without a further word, Suvan took the right tunnel and I followed her.

"He said he was a holy man here. But why do the Mutans follow his orders?" Suvan asked.

With a shudder, I hesitantly replied, "He is actually more than a holy man. He is their father."

She stopped mid-crawl, making me nearly run into her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Keep moving and I'll explain. You've been to many other cities of the Ancients, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course," she said as she resumed moving.

"You said yourself that you had never seen the Mutans anywhere else. This is the only place that you know where they live. What makes this place so special?"

With conviction, she replied, "It is the curse of the Ancients. The evil spawned these beasts from the decay and ruins."

"They had to spawn from somewhere," I agreed. "But I have seen with my own eyes that the Mutans are bred from the very hands of Tahn and his ancestors."

She nearly shouted, "But that's impossible! Only Allah can create and take life away."

"I saw the only female Mutan alive," I replied quietly. "How it breeds, I would rather not go into detail. But Tahn has a hand in raising and propagating the species. He is building himself an army that will follow his every command."

"It's preposterous," she said with finality.

I let the matter drop since we had more pressing issues at hand. The darkness was now totally complete so we had to cautiously feel our way forward. The tunnel was also descending at an alarming rate. Since we had started at the ground floor that meant we were now headed somewhere towards the basement. Even worse were the new sounds reverberating against the walls. It sounded like the Mutans were now inside the tunnels, but I couldn't tell how far away they were.

Suvan stopped and swore. "We can't go any further!"

"We don't have any choice."

"But there is only a drop here," she warned.

My voice rose in frustration. "It can't be that far down. We will have to risk it."

She let out a breath. Then she spun around, took my hands and began lowering herself down. I held on tightly and listened as her feet kicked against the side of the smooth metallic walls. I slowly inched forward, allowing her to drop further. By the time my arms were stretched all the way into that pit, my heart was beating hard in my ears.

"I think I can feel the bottom," Suvan's voice drifted from below. She released my hands.

I immediately heard a light thud. But any relief was quickly dispelled by a flicker of light coming from behind. I turned my head and saw a burning torch. It was a line of Mutans coming down the inclined tunnel at a hesitant pace. The ugly features of the lead Mutan were made even worse by the shadows cast by the flickering flame. Pulling the pistol from my pocket, I fired. The bullet hit the beast square in the face.

He pitched on his back and slid towards me, the torch flailing wildly in the air. I stopped him with my foot and grabbed the still-lit torch. The other Mutans put up a yell and charged at me. Not waiting any longer, I pushed myself backwards and dropped below.

I hit the floor with a loud metallic clang. Luckily, Suvan had moved out of the way or she would have been crushed by my sudden flight. The light of liberated torch revealed a small and dirty room with square openings on the walls and mummified mice on the floor. Suvan was staring at me with a wild face streaked with dust. Above us, I could hear the Mutans screaming in panic since they had lost their only source of light. But it would only be a matter of time before they came down here. It would be easier for them to join us than returning along those twisty corridors from whence they came.

"We're trapped," Suvan finally said.

"Nonsense," I replied. "There has to be some way out of here."

"As you can see, there are nothing behind those openings but fans. The Ancients must have used these tunnels to move air through the building."

"Whoever maintained this building had to have access to this room!" I exclaimed. Without a further word, I began examining the walls with the aid of the torch. It was as Suvan said \- any egress was blocked by a fan composed of five blades grouped tightly together. No one could fit past those rust-encrusted fans.

Any further investigation was halted by the arrival of a Mutan from above. He fell to the ground with a painful sounding crack. Before he had a chance to rise, I unsheathed and swiped at him with my sword. The cut opened his throat, causing the creature to thrash and gurgle with a terrible moan. His black blood stained the floor.

Suvan only stared at this new horror for just a moment before she started to help me go over this ancient prison. It was just a moment of time when I discovered a part of the metal wall that fit differently than the others. It was flush but had an edge that could be a door. I gave it a push with my hand but it did not budge. In a near panic, I gave it a violent kick that sent a bolt of pain down my entire leg. This time the thin metal buckled and a portion of the wall sprung open. It was a small opening but just large enough for someone to pass through. Before I even said a word, Suvan began struggling through the opening. Her legs kicked free, and she was gone.

Before I could follow, two more Mutans thudded on the metallic floor. I spun around and drew my sword. The foul creatures moved fast this time and rushed at me with their blades at the ready. They slashed at me, and it took all of my feeble skills to dodge and parry their blows.

One blade sliced open my shirt, barely touching my flesh. I took the lit torch and shoved it into the attacker's face. Turning away, he clutched his eyes and screamed, dropping his blade. With only one Mutan left, I was able to use my longer reach. After some quick work, my sword struck him straight in the chest. He let out a groan and slid to the floor. I took this chance and pushed myself through the opening.

Shutting the trapdoor behind me, I found Suvan waiting outside that accursed metal cage. Her expression was one of relief. I handed her the torch. The room we were in was a jumble of broken machinery that was covered in a layer of dust. From the dim light of the torch, I could see a door sagging on its hinges. From inside the metal enclosure came more noises. It was the Mutan and they were in a panic to escape. It would only be a matter of minutes before they discovered the way out.

"They will be free soon," I warned Suvan.

"I'm sorry I got so scared. I hate to admit this to anyone, but I do not like confined spaces."

"You aren't the only one," I said soothingly. "But enough talk, we have to get out of this building before Tahn sends more of those creatures after us."

I pushed aside the door, and the hinges gave way, causing it to fall forward with a crash. Going through, we found ourselves in a short hallway with a flight of stairs that went upwards and another steel door across the way from us. It was the same place that Tahn had used to enter the building from the subway. The tunnels were not a place that I wanted to go, but right now there wasn't much choice.
Chapter 20

"I fear we will be lost down here," Suvan said after just a few minutes of walking.

"I fear the Mutans more," I replied. "And Tahn knows these tunnels better than we do. We shall have to find a way out before we are trapped."

The subway tunnel went straight for a few hundred yards before slowly curving to the right. Other than an occasional rat, the only sound to be heard was our feet treading across the ground. The light from the torch flickered uncertainly, and I wondered how much longer it would last before going out. It would be hellish to be trapped down here without being able to see.

From behind, I thought I could hear the echo of many feet. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw lights behind us, bouncing strange shadows against the tunnel walls. The Mutans had started their search of the subway. I grabbed Suvan's hand and pulled her along at a faster pace.

"We have to hurry," I said, fighting down the panic I felt welling inside.

We began running in a headlong flight, unconcerned of what could lie ahead. But no matter what our speed was, the lights from behind grew in intensity since the Mutans could move at an untiring pace. We came to a split in the tunnel where the rail lines separated. Without thinking, I took the rightmost one. Next to me, I could hear Suvan's breath with winded rasps. She was tiring, and I wasn't doing much better.

We only made it a few yards in when Suvan stopped. "I have to rest," she gasped out. "I fear that drugged wine is still affecting me."

"We can't! They're right behind us!" I screamed at her.

But my entreaties were too late. There was a flash of light behind us. As I looked, a group of torch holding Mutans was at the mouth of this new tunnel. They saw us, but to my amazement, they did not proceed any further. Instead they stopped, their eyes warily examining the tunnel walls. I did not take the time to consider their caution, but instead I dragged Suvan further along. To my relief, The Mutans did not follow us into this branch of the tunnel.

I should have paused to wonder why, but my first thought was flight. But before I could think further, there was a gentle patter of feet echoing off the walls in front of us. My first thought was the Mutans had us trapped, but since it remained dark ahead, I knew something different was coming from the recesses of this underground maze. There was also a rank, unfamiliar smell. At my feet, I could now see piles of white bones; a skull leered at me.

The sound of footsteps grew louder. I stopped and pushed Suvan to the side. She crouched near the tunnel wall, notched an arrow and drew back her bow.

The torch in my hand was flickering dangerously low, but there was still enough light to see the approaching horror. Instead of a multitude of creatures, there was only a single one. But such a beast will forever inhabit my deepest nightmares and most terrible fears. The outlandish mutation was like a centipede but made of human parts. Where there should have been legs there were instead a multitude of arms with gray mottled hands. These horrific appendages supported a thick maggot-like body some twelve feet in length. At one time the flesh may have been pink, but years of underground living had turned it black with dirt and grime. The head, if I could call it that, was miniscule compared to the bulk of the body. It looked like the head of infant, but the malicious row of teeth and red eyes certainly held no childish innocence.

Suvan let go with her bow and the arrow pierced the body, sinking deeply into the bloated flesh. The creature let out a horrific scream that sounded like a child crying in pain, but at a volume that made my head dizzy. The blood that came out was thick and black. But still the beast kept on coming, the appendages moving at a terrific rate.

Without a further thought, I fired my pistol, the snap of the bullet echoing down the hallway. The shot hit an arm, but did not slow the nightmare down. I pulled the trigger again but nothing happened except for a click that at that moment sounded terribly loud. In the haste of my escape, I had forgotten to reload!

There was no time for that anymore. I slipped the gun into my pocket and reached for my sword. Before I could draw the blade, the creature was on top of me, raising its girth to flail at me with a wall of arms. It moved with amazing speed that took me by surprise. I was hit with a terrific number of blows that sent me reeling away, staggering as I fought to stay upright.

The twang of Suvan's bow rang next to my ear. Once again, the beast howled with an ear-splitting scream as an arrow sunk deeply into that hideous body.

"Aim for the head!" I shouted as I drew out my sword.

The thing came at me, raising its body once again to rain a series of blows. But this time I had my sword ready. I swept the blade towards those flailing arms, cutting a ragged line into the flesh. A great spasm shot through the body as it recoiled in pain. But still the attack did not stop. This time the creature charged head-on and engulfed me with a tangle of arms, the weight of the body pushing me down to the ground. My sword arm was pinned, and the torch wrenched from my grip.

The rubbery mass choked the air out of me. I couldn't breathe. The world began to spin away into darkness. I felt my consciousness slip away.

The beast gave a sudden violent shudder and rolled off me. My ribs ached with pain, but felt the rush of air greet my lungs. I opened my eyes and saw Suvan standing over me. She was looking at me with concern in her eyes, holding the flickering torch in her hand. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I think so," I gasped. "Help me up."

With her assistance, I was soon on my feet again. My entire body ached but luckily nothing seemed to be broken. I saw that the creature was dead, it's head pierced by a well-placed arrow.

"When it wrestled you to the ground, it gave me the chance to aim," she explained.

"It was a near thing," I gratefully agreed. "But let's move on before the Mutans get brave enough to follow us down here."

"I just hope we don't meet anything else like that," she said with disgust. "It was horrible."

We moved on, walking carefully past the monster. To my relief, we soon came upon a station platform. In a few moments we were climbing a flight of garbage-strewn stairs and up into the night. The buildings loomed above us. We were still in the heart of the city, but it was still a joy to be free of the subways. Before we reached the very top of the stairs, Suvan extinguished the torch and then grabbed my arm.

"Let me take a look before we proceed any further," she whispered in my ear.

After peering over the edges of the stairwell, Suvan then motioned me to join her. I saw that the street was empty of any living thing, but was crowded with wrecked cars and litter. It appeared that the entire population of the city tried to flee at the same time but were destroyed by some monstrous weapon.

At Suvan's prompting, we began cautiously moving forward. Due to the wrecked cars on the street, we had to take the sidewalk which was strewn with cracked plastic containers, broken glass, metallic wrappers and broken bits from the buildings above. The buildings towered above us, casting ungodly long shadows pointing away from the moon above. It was deathly quiet except for a cool breeze that gusted down the street, kicking up trash.

"We have to find a place to hide, so we can rest," Suvan said, breaking the silence.

"I know, but where? We could have stayed down in the subway. Up here the Mutans will be sure to find us."

Suvan visibly shuddered. "No, we will be safer up here. I will not go down there again. I would rather die."

After walking another block, we came to a building that must have been a store at one time. The glass front was long gone but inside, plastic mannequins with tattered clothing stared lifelessly at us. The doors had been torn open at some time and the ground inside was littered with the decayed goods of the past.

"This will do," Suvan said with relief. "After we rest, we can scavenge this place for something useful."

We entered, stepping cautiously through the scattered trash. The elements had done the most damage, though this place could have also been looted by the Ancients or even the Mutans. As we progressed, the litter started to give away to collapsed shelves and racks that still held moth-eaten and rotted clothing. We setup camp in the back recesses of the store. Suvan fell into a fitful sleep on a heap of tattered clothing while I took the first watch.

As she gently snored, I went over our provisions and wondered how long we could live on our few scraps of food and only two canteens of water. There was a long trip ahead of us and we weren't going to get out of this valley with the supplies we had. Putting those thoughts aside, I reloaded my pistol with the last remaining bullets. I now had no extra ammunition and could only use the five shots I had left. Based on what we had run into so far, this wasn't going to be enough to get out of the valley alive. I was glad that I still had the sword and the power of Suvan's bow.
Chapter 21

Taking turns sleeping, we spent the rest of the night and the next day hidden in that store. With the rising of the sun, Mutans were outside, busily marching through the streets. Perhaps they were searching for us. While I slept, Suvan scoured through the littered remnants around us and found some additional clothing for me to wear. It was a green jacket made of a plastic-type material that was impervious to water which could prove to be useful if we ever reached the mountains.

As darkness came, the streets became deserted once again. We left our camp and began traversing through the empty streets. The skeletal buildings above continued their silent watch, their oppressive presence a constant reminder of days past. It was now a gigantic tomb and a home to a hundred horrors. It was also a monument to the folly of mankind - a civilization that could build such majesty and yet destroy itself so easily. Would we ever see such destruction again?

My thoughts were broken by the whispering of Suvan.

She said, "That horror in the subway, do you think there are others?"

I hesitated before answering, "I do not know. But I do wonder how such things are created. Did Tahn have a hand in such a monster? Or was it just the product of the Ancient's folly?"

"Or both," she replied. "From your description, he has taken the mutations and turned them to his own purpose. It is evil and against the will of Allah. He will be punished for such folly. But right now we have other concerns than his morality. We must get back to the trail and escape this city. Our rations are too low to survive far in the desert."

"Our food and water are low," I agreed.

"That is not my only concern. We are still now on the run from the Mutans. They know that we are in the city. At Tahn's bidding, they will be searching for us throughout the day and perhaps even the night. I have never seen them use torches before, so that shows that they are adapting to new circumstances."

"They are still afraid of the dark," I said confidently. "It was only their obedience to Tahn that allowed them to temporarily overcome their fear. Anyway, we can find plenty of places to hide during the day. We shall get to the end of the valley and then to the safety of the mountains."

She gave a sigh of despair. "I should never have come on this journey. It will only lead to my death. Tell me, have you not thought of what lies at the end of this valley? The Mutans will only have to guard the exit with enough numbers to stop us from breaking through. It will be impossible for us to reach the desert without running into them. It is probably the same story with the entrance. We are trapped inside here like rats unless we can think of some clever way out."

"Then we shall have to find another way," I answered crossly. "Perhaps the subway tunnels come out somewhere else."

"I'm not going back down there," she said firmly. "I would rather die from the blade of a Mutan than visit those accursed tunnels again."

"You may have your wish," I spat back angrily. "Do you have any better ideas?"

She did not immediately answer, but stopped and listened to make sure our conversation had not drawn the attention of some creature of the night. After a moment, she replied softly. "I don't know if it can be done, but it is better than the alternatives: we can climb out."

I was stunned by this idea and felt foolish for not coming up with it on my own. We stopped talking momentarily to scramble over a rusted car that had blocked the sidewalk. When we were back down on the sidewalk, I finally replied, "The walls of those cliffs are steep. Do you really think it is possible to climb them?"

"We can only try. But first we shall have to find some rope, and if possible, some more food. Once we hit the desert, there isn't going to be much time for hunting. I'm also worried about our water. Once we're out in the Wasteland, it's easy to go through a canteen a day."

"Do you know where we can get some more?"

She shook her head. "I've never been beyond the river. We either have to return to it, or depend on luck."

We spent the rest of the night walking and being on the lookout for any Mutans. Since they depended on torchlight when traveling at night, it was no problem to find a way around them. The few patrols that we did see were easy to dodge. As the light of morning came, we found the remnants of a bank to hole up in. The floor was covered with blackened silver and now-green copper coins that had strange faces and unknown writing imprinted on the metal. The vault door was shut and did not budge when I tried to move the ancient door. I suppose it did not matter what useless things resided inside, but I was still curious. We spent the day inside, taking turns keeping watch on the street outside. Except for the sound of passing Mutans, we were undisturbed.

By the middle of the next night, we had cleared the heart of the city. The buildings were now becoming fewer in number and growing even less frequent the further we went. During our march, Suvan continued to search for a certain type of store where we could find the proper tools to scale the cliff side. It was nearing dawn when she found what she was looking for. It was a large building with a front that must have been all glass at one time. These windows had been broken long ago, the shards now covered with sand. The roof was half-collapsed, allowing the moonlight to shine from above. Most of the goods inside had been scattered or destroyed by the elements, but towards the back of the store there were still intact shelves.

Suvan entered and immediately began searching through the dusty items. When she had finished, there was a pile of goods at her feet. She said, "This is what the Ancients called a Sporting Goods store. I've found some good rope here. When daylight comes, I'll take a closer look and see what else we can scavenge for food."

"Rope? Anything so old would be sure to disintegrate under our weight."

She laughed. "This is not like the ropes of your village, made with hemp that has been twisted together; it is made of plastic like the one use by Tahn when he rescued us from that pit. Such a material will last many of our lives and still be strong enough to hold many times our weight."

"But what of food and drink?" I asked.

"Water will still be a problem, but the Ancients also had a way of storing food that would make it last for a very long time."

I shook my head. "Like that rope? Plastic food?"

"No, you silly man," she shot back. "The people of old ate food much like we do, but had ways of storing and preserving food inside sealed containers."

I didn't understand. "Like canning? That can keep fruit fresh for many years, but not over the centuries."

"No one knows how they did it, but some of their food can last for a very long time indeed. A store such as this carries this special type that was used for camping, which the Ancients apparently did as a hobby. Though I'm not sure why anyone would do such an activity. When it is lighter out, we shall examine this place further."

As usual, we took turns sleeping until the early dawn light began slanting down through the demolished roof. Suvan then went to work while I kept watch for prowling enemies. From a hidden position inside the store, I could watch the street which thankfully remained empty of Mutans.

When she had completed her task, Suvan called me over to show the fruits of her labors. In front of her feet was a small pile of boxes and metallic pouches. "These are the best ones that I could find," she said.

"What are they?" I asked as I began poking hungrily at the rations.

"Food - though food such as this requires the addition of water to be edible. We shall still need to find more of that. Remember it is important to smell and perhaps sample the insides for spoilage unless you don't mind being sick to your stomach. We have beef and chicken soup, rice, lasagna, and even scrambled eggs."

I looked at the packaging and found the writing indecipherable. "Tell me, Suvan, can you actually read the writing of the Ancients?"

She shrugged. "I know a few words. My father taught me what he knew. It really comes with the job. After visiting so many cities, you start getting a feel for the language."

I made a decision. I sat Suvan down and told her everything that had happened to me and why I was really going to the mountains. When I was done, I pulled Tai's note from my tunic, I showed it to her. "This may say something important. Can you make anything out?"

She took the paper from my hand. After a minute of concentrated studying, she shook her head. "I'm afraid it's far too technical for me. The words I know are simple, ones that dealt with my father's work; mostly regarding matters of food and goods. This is something beyond my understanding. Do you think it is really important?"

"I honestly don't know, but I lost everything because of it. I was told that the Rebels at the mountains can read this language. That's one of the reasons I was forced to go on this journey, so they would be warned of the Mujadeen's plans."

"Keep it safe until then. And thank you for showing it to me, Mikel. It's nice to know that you trust me."
Chapter 22

We stayed at the store the rest of the day, hidden behind a tall empty shelf. It was there, using some precious water from my canteen, that I first sampled the food of the Ancients. It was beef stew that was too salty and rather bland, but the meal was still satisfying to my hungry stomach. Suvan ate chicken soup that I also sampled - it was even saltier than my beef stew. It was strange to consume something so old, but my innards did not rebel. With a full belly, I dozed next to Suvan until the coming of night.

Suvan shook my shoulder until I awoke. We then gathered our supplies, left the store and went into the night. I carried the lengths of rope coiled over my right shoulder. Suvan took the food. We changed directions, this time striking due north towards the cliff walls. The air was still with the hidden menace of the night, but there was no sign of the Mutans or any other horrific creature. We went past the now-familiar ruins and destroyed cars, only taking the precaution of not losing our footing in the rubble and trash that littered the streets.

Sometime later we had reached, without incidence, the cliff. At this point they rose to dizzying heights, the shadowed wall cold and black. In the cover of the night, I could see nary a handhold or crevice to navigate. The wall creatures I had seen before were above; now dark lumps, moving slowly without the heat of the sun.

"We cannot hope to climb this at night," I commented after I had examined the wall with my hands.

"Then let's continue along the wall," she replied. "The height should drop as we get close to the exit. That will make the climb easier for us."

I readily assented since I had some misgivings with this idea. It was going to be difficult climbing that rock, so any lessening of the height would help. We began picking our way westward, heading towards the exit of this accursed valley. There was no rest on our journey, and my feet were aching when Suvan finally stopped and pointed. There was a glow on the horizon ahead, but this light had nothing to do with the rising of the sun which would have been behind us. The morning was still too early for that.

"It has to be the Mutans," I said, thinking that Suvan's prediction had come true. They had closed off the exit and lit bonfires. That way was surely guarded from escape.

"Then we can go no further," Suvan said. "We are too close to them now."

I looked at the wall above. It was now shorter than before, but still apparently smooth and impassable. "Can we even climb this section? It looks no better than before."

Her reply was tinged with exhaustion. "For now, let's just rest. It's been a long night. But to answer your question, we cannot go back and we can go no further, so we shall have to climb. I have seen the cliff side in the daylight before and there are ways up, thought it looked difficult. It is best that we wait until daylight comes so we can find the necessary footholds."

We spent the rest of the night talking and eating the food of the Ancients. There was only a splash of water left in my water bottle, and I knew that Suvan had very little remaining in her own canteen. But I wasn't about to return to the river or search out another source within the valley. We had to escape and take the consequences of the Wasteland beyond.

As the dawn broke along the eastern sky, I could finally make out the irregularities on the rock face. It was a good one hundred feet to the desert above. Though the handholds and outcroppings were few, I could see that the ascent was possible, provided care was taken. We laid out the length of rope, tying ourselves together with some twenty feet of distance between us. The other lengths of rope were to be used to create safety points to tie ourselves to in case one of us should slip. Suvan went first, nimbly finding a foothold and then a handhold to pull up on. She went on and as the rope grew tauter, I followed, trying to use the same spots that she had found. It was slow going. I felt like a fly on a wall. To my surprise when I looked down, I saw that I was already some thirty feet off the ground. The wind was picking up here, making me feel more vulnerable as it whistled past my ears.

The sun was already baking the wall, turning the coldness of night into hot stone. The wall creatures were off to the left, grazing on spots of lichen like content cattle. The rope creaked. I looked up and saw Suvan stop at an outcropping. She took a length of rope and tied it around her waist before tying it onto the rock. That was to be our lifeline in case one of us fell. I brushed that terrible thought aside and instead concentrated on the task at hand.

Foot after agonizing foot, I slowly pulled myself up using the rope and sparse footholds. My feet hurt and my throat was parched with thirst, but I fought on. I was about half-way up when I heard a faint cry from below. Craning my neck, I looked below and saw nothing. But I still felt a growing apprehension. My muscles strained and I pulled myself up another foot using a small handhold. The cry then became louder. I looked once more, and this time I saw a single Mutan staring at me. He was quite a distance away, standing on top of a pile of rubble in the middle of a street. The damned thing was calling to his brothers, and it would only be a few minutes before he had a whole host of them to fire arrows at us. I'm sure the infernal creatures would find it great sport to have us killed in such a manner.

I called out to Suvan above, "We have company! Hurry!"

Suvan's lithe figure began moving rapidly up the rock face. I was surprised by her speed and had a hard time keeping up. Several times the rope went taut, causing her to slow until I could gain another foothold. She paused once again to tie another rope to an outcropping, tying the other end to her waist after removing the previous one. I took this moment to look below where I saw more and more Mutans running in our direction. It was going to be close.

With a sudden burst of energy, Suvan finally pushed herself up and over the ledge above. That only left me alone on the rock face. I clambered past the last outcropping where I rested my foot and took a much needed breath. This was a mistake. An arrow shot past within inches of my head and bounced off the rock face. I looked down and saw a single Mutan drawing his bow on me again. I started climbing again with my back clenched, ready to receive that deadly iron tip.

I heard another cry, but this sounded like a creature in pain. I took the chance to look down again and saw that the Mutan was lying on his back, an arrow protruding from its back. Not thirty yards away stood a figure wearing a black robe with a hood that covered the face. He was carrying a bow. With a wave in my direction, the stranger ran off to disappear into some ruined buildings that were close by. I had forgotten all about my mysterious follower and could only wonder how he fit into all of this. However my respite was temporary since the dead Mutan was now replaced by several of his comrades who were still very much alive. This small knot of creatures gathered together, drawing back their bows to release a hail of arrows.

I saw all of this with just a glance as my hand found the ledge above. With a savage yank, I pulled myself over. The black arrows of the Mutans flew over my head and ended up landing in the soft sand beyond.

Suvan helped me up. Her face was flushed as she said, "We must hurry before they leave the valley to hunt us down. It is our bad fortune that we were seen climbing."

We took off in a run, heading north into the desert. The trackless Wasteland felt strangely empty compared to the crowded, ruined city below. There was no shade here from the heat of the relentless sun, and I was soon sweating profusely. I stopped momentarily to rest but that only made Suvan angry.

"There is no time!" she shouted. "Do you want the Mutans to capture us after all that work?"

"Did you see that man dressed in black?" I asked, breathing hard.

"What are you talking about?" she replied impatiently.

"You must have seen him! He saved my life by killing that Mutan before the infernal creature could draw a bead on me."

She shook her head. "I didn't see anyone. But there isn't any time to talk right now. It will not take much effort for the Mutans to track us on this desert sand. Our only way to escape is by out-distancing them."

I shook my canteen. It was nearly empty. "We cannot last out here long with the water we have."

"Do you have a better idea?" she snapped.

Now it was my turn to shake my head. There was no way we could stand and fight against such an overpowering force. Our only option was to flee and hope for the best. We began running again. The sun grew higher, baking the yellow sand into a fiery haze. With her lithe figure, Suvan easily outpaced me. Whenever she would gain too much distance, she would stop to let me catch up. This only angered me since this gave her time to rest while I was constantly moving. Her words of encouragement did little to help either, but only made my mood more malicious.

I really wasn't aware of the danger we were facing until I had labored up to the crest of a high sand dune. Forced to stop at the very top to rest, I turned and looked behind us. There, on the shimmering edge of the horizon, I could make out a mass of figures moving towards us. They were moving at a good pace, easily faster than us. It wouldn't be too much longer until they caught up. Shaking my head, I wondered if the horrors of the city would have been a better place to die.

On we ran. My lungs were wracked with pain, and my legs felt like leaden stumps that only moved because I willed them to do so. My throat was parched, and my tongue felt thick in my mouth, but I dare not drink my last remnant of water. I don't know what kept me going; perhaps it was the fear of being cooked alive by those evil creatures. Or perhaps it was the fear of coming so far only to be defeated. But even the strongest of wills and the halest of bodies can take so much. This was too much. I could no further.

I dropped to my knees, the heat of the sand engulfing me like a wave. Taking the cap off of my water bottle, I swallowed the last stale remnant. It tasted like the best wine in the world.

Suvan had stopped and quickly ran over to join me. She was flushed with heat and looked as if she could barely stand herself. "We must keep going," she gasped.

"I can't," I replied through my uneven breathing. "Go on without me."

"I won't leave you here," she replied testily. "They will kill you. We can both stay and fight."

I shook my head. "That will only result in the death of both of us. No, I will stay here and slow them down. Anyways, I'm only stopping you from going faster." I reached into my pocket and took out the note. "Here, take this with you. Head towards the mountains and deliver this message for me."

She took the paper from my hands and stared at it stupidly before she slipped it inside a pocket. Suvan then leaned over and kissed my sweaty forehead. Without a further word, she left, running as hard as she could.
Chapter 23

What does one think of when one's imminent death is marching from the horizon? At this point I really wasn't thinking of anything at all. I was just too tired. I was still thirsty and wanted nothing more than a glass of cold water. But since that wasn't available, I instead readied myself for the final end. I gave a prayer to Allah, hoping he would recognize my bravery. Other than that, I mostly watched as the Mutan drew ever closer. There were at least three dozen of the foul creatures. I would have no chance against such numbers.

The Mutans normally aggressive behavior seemed oddly muted since, as they drew closer, their pace slowed. Perhaps it was their suspicious nature, or perhaps it was the strange sight of a single man sitting in the sand with no mind to flee or express terror. Maybe they suspected a trap, for their marching line bent in the middle, while the flanks swept to my left and right. The soon had me encircled with no means to escape. The circle of silent Mutans slowly drew closer together like a noose.

I stood up. Their forward motion stopped. Then one of them laughed, causing the others to join in. Whatever evil thoughts passed those twisted minds, I could only imagine, but there was no pity or chance of appeal here. With a loud rasp, the Mutans all drew their swords at the same time, dropping their bows to the sand. Then they started towards me again, a tight leer of cruelty frozen on the terrible faces.

I remained motionless, barely keeping my own fear in check. I had experienced too much suffering and too much pain to be truly scared anymore. If I was going to die, it was going to be without a whimper. Without a single word, I drew out my blade as I suddenly charged towards the first Mutan who was straight across from me. My movement threw him off. He did not have time to respond as the sword point drove deeply into his heart. With a wrench, I pulled the sword free and shoved past the dying Mutan. I was free of the circle but still not out of danger. It was only a temporary respite until I would eventually be surrounded once again. I was merely putting of the inevitable, buying time for Suvan to escape.

Without any fear, the nearest Mutan on the right rushed at me. A few parries of the swords, and he went down with a slash to the neck. But there were soon two more to take his place. My longer reach helped, but I had a hard time keeping their slashes and jabs at bay. After I downed one with a blow to the neck, the other slipped under my guard and slashed at my leg. I began bleeding heavily on my thigh. The sight of my wound put the other Mutans into a bloody fury. Three more joined in the battle. This time I had no place to turn and escape.

As I took a step back, I kept my blade swinging in a defensive pattern. The whirl of the sword sang in the heat of the air, crashing with metallic clangs that were loud enough to make me blink. Another Mutan got in close, and his cheek ended up getting sliced open. But he still managed to lunge forward and pierced my free arm. The pain was white hot. The blood bled freely from this wound, making me dizzy with a cold sickness.

I began to lose track of time. The sun beat on my back with relentless ferocity. My throat was parched, feeling as dry as the desert floor. My aching sword arm could barely keep up with the persistent attacks. There was no chance to rest. There was no chance to live. To the Mutans, I was only a new sport to be enjoyed; like a trapped rat with sharp teeth. My sword was now black with their blood, the once sharp blade nicked by a hundred blows. I don't know how many of them fell to my sword, but their attack never faltered. My legs soon buckled from exhaustion. I fell to my knees. My remaining enemies gave a horrific cheer.

I was too weak to lift my sword arm. I was too weak to do anything but watch my own death. One of the Mutans, a particularly loathsome specimen with twisted lips and black eyes, cautiously approached me with his sword at the ready. I could do nothing as he jabbed me hard in the chest. The steel bit into my flesh with a burst of white-hot pain. The creature laughed as I screamed with a cracked voice. I felt my blood trickle down my chest, spreading like a blossom of shock. The Mutan lifted his sword high in the air, ready to deliver the killing blow. I closed my eyes and fell onto my chest, the sand clogging my nose and mouth.

My heart pounded in my chest, sounding like a drumbeat in my ears. I heard the Mutans give a blood-curdling howl, but still the final blow never came. I opened my dirt-encrusted eyes and slowly turned my aching head. The Mutans were running. It dawned on that there were horses! Men on horses were charging into the Mutans who were rushing to pick up their discarded bows. The speed of the horses won out. There was a flash of spear-points, and a dozen Mutans died on the spot. I could only watch as the remnants of the Mutans broke to flee, only to be run down one by one. The men on the horse were dressed in sand-colored robes with hoods that covered the head but left the face open. I was reminded of the mysterious follower dressed in black. Nonetheless, these men did their job with a grim determination and only letup when the final Mutan had been killed.

When the slaughter had finally stopped, my rescuers lined up and raised their spears. There were at least twenty of them. They gave an ear-piercing war cry as another rider rode up. He was a man with his hood pushed back to his shoulders. His hair was iron-gray, and the face was lined from years of living in the sun. Riding on the same saddle behind him, with her arms wrapped around his waist, was Suvan.

She released her grip, jumped down and was soon at my side. I was too weak to move, so I just smiled weakly at her.

"Praise to the Prophet, you are still alive!" she exclaimed. Her hand then began to run over my body, examining my wounds in earnest.

"Who are these men?" I heard myself asking. My voice sounded faint and faraway.

"They are the Rebels," she replied as she began to bound my wounds.

The sun above was cut off by the shadow of a man. It was the rider that had borne Suvan with him. He stared at me, his blue eyes as cold as ice. "I am Vinc," he said. "It is a miracle that you killed so many Mutans single-handed. This day will be long remembered in song for I have never seen a man slay eight of these creatures by himself."

I tried to nod, but the motion was too much for me. Their faces faded away. I slipped into darkness.
Chapter 24

I awoke in a bath of unnatural white light that made me blink with annoyance. I was lying on top of a bed with a mass of pillows that supported my aching head. My body felt stiff all over with a dull throbbing pain reminding me that I was still alive. Above, there was a strange light that was not made out of flame or from the power of the sun. Turning my head, I looked over the room. Next to me was a small white table that held clean bandages, several needles and a length of thread. The walls were painted white and so was the closed door. The curtains on the single window were drawn. Not knowing where I was, I decided to investigate.

Getting out of bed proved to be too much for me. As I pulled the covers back and put my bare foot on the cold floor, I tried to stand up without success. Instead, I sort of sprawled over, falling down to the floor on my knees. I found I was dressed in nothing but a thin white robe. "Help!" I cried out.

The door was soon opened. In strode a prim-looking woman of undetermined years. Like the room, she was dressed in white - a frock and a pair of paints. "The doctor will have a fit! What are you doing out of bed?" she demanded to know, her ugly face creased with worry.

"Where am I?"

She answered with a barely hidden smile. "At the hospital, of course. It's amazing that you are alive. It took several transfusions, and the doctor had a most interesting time stitching you back together."

"Transfusion?" I asked out of ignorance.

She laughed with all the mirth of a practiced gravedigger. "Blood, my simple man. You lost too much so the doctor had to put some back in."

I felt faint, feeling sick to my stomach thinking of some stranger's blood circulating inside of me.

"Now be a good patient, and let me help you get back to bed."

I readily complied to her wishes. After all I did not have the strength to resist. After I was safely tucked away again, I asked, "Tell me, where is my companion? I was traveling with a girl named Suvan.""

She said patiently, "Don't worry, she's spent hours at your side. The poor thing was just tired keeping watch over you, so she went and got some sleep in the other room."

I nodded drowsily.

"Now I suggest you get some more sleep yourself. Time is the best healer of all, and you still have a long way to go before you are better." With those final words, she turned and left, closing the door as she went.

Falling back to sleep was easier than expected. I dreamed of nothing. It seemed like only minutes had passed when I suddenly felt my shoulder being gently shaken. I opened my eyes and saw Suvan was there, sitting at my side. She was wearing a new tunic and pants that were just a little too large for her build. I smiled at her, glad to know that both of us were still alive.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said, her face beaming with excitement.

"Where are we?" I croaked out.

"That is a long story, Mikel. After I left you in the desert, I ran ahead, fearing that would be the last I would ever see of you. I soon ran into those horsemen, and once I explained the situation, they rode off to your rescue. I'm afraid they were rather suspicious of me at first, but once I told them of our plight, they were ready to help. Their leader, that man Vinc, had his men charge right into the Mutans. It was splendid to see what they did to them. When I saw how wounded you were, I grieved. I thought I was going to lose you. You looked to be at death's door."

"And I was," I admitted.

"Afterward, Vinc had his men tie you to a horse with a rider there to help. We then headed towards the mountains, dodging past Mutan patrols. During the day's journey, you remained unconscious. That's too bad since you missed seeing the wonders that I have. The Rebels here live in such a way that astounds me. It's like visiting the time of the Ancients. Why look at the light above us. It's a bulb that runs of electricity! Vinc has been busy showing me everything."

I looked up at the shining light and found it not very wonderful. It was too bright and artificial for my tastes.

She continued on, "You were brought here where a doctor stitched up your wounds and healed you."

"How many days have I been here?" I asked.

"It has only been two days."

"And the note?"

She shrugged. "I gave that to Vinc. He said he would deliver it to the Council on your behalf. Once you have the strength, we shall meet with them."

I spent the next two days in bed. During this time I ate plenty of food and slept the hours away. Suvan came to visit me when she could; she was spending much of her free time visiting the local sights. I was jealous since from my window, I could only see pine trees and granite slabs.

It seemed like a long time but the doctor finally released me from the hospital, allowing me to tour the Rebel town in the company of Suvan. She proved to be a good guide and explained everything to me. It was a really a small village protected by the natural formations of rock and stone. There was stream that ran cold from the snow of the mountain peaks. This water also ran through a dam which generated the electricity. Through scavenging the city in the valley, they had managed to find the necessary light bulbs and material to run the wiring. It was amazing to think that something so simple could make power to create light at the flick of a switch. This same stream also provided running water that was pumped to the various buildings

Most of the four or five dozen homes were simple, thatched huts insulated with straw and mud. They were grouped together along the dirt paths that sprawled in random directions. But the hospital and town hall were built by the Ancients. Much like my own hotel, they were made out of brick with tarred roofs. The town hall had a small library with books and even a workshop where the men tried to replicate the work of the old days. It was a fantastic enterprise, considering their limited manpower.

After we had gone through the town hall, Suvan and I stopped by the river to watch the water rush by. I was grateful for the rest. We sat together. I wanted to hold her hand but felt strangely shy, even though we had shared the most terrible adventures together.

"So what do you think of this place?" Suvan asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Impressive, but I was expecting something more," I replied.

"Like what?"

I waved my hands in the direction of the houses. "There must only be two or three hundred residents here. That's hardly an army that could take on the Mujadeen who are spread wide and far. The Warlord is said to lead a massive army that could easily crush something as insignificant as this."

Suvan shook her head in disagreement. "But look at their technology! They have done far more here than anywhere else I've seen. While other towns are wasting away, they are building anew."

"Light and water on demand do not give you men to fight with."

"You are right," a new voice interrupted. It was Vinc. This time he was dressed in the rough clothes of a laborer, but with that stern face, no one would mistake him for a simple worker. "But we do well with what we have. Now it is time for you to meet with the Council. Come with me."

As I stood to follow, I saw him give Suvan a look of longing that gave me an twinge of jealousy. I would have to keep my eye on these two.
Chapter 25

We met the Council inside a large meeting room located within the town hall. The walls here were festooned with orange and black signs that had cryptic arrows and Ancient words written on them. There was a long table where five men sat. The center seat was occupied by a thin man with long black hair that was peppered with gray. On either side of him sat his companions who looked at me with little interest. That is, except for the member on the far left, who watched me carefully as though expecting the worst. He had a pudgy face, white hair, and a fat stomach that bulged against the table. The man sitting in the middle motioned us forward.

"I am Ibam, elected Leader of the Council," he said. His voice was flat and without emotion. A closer examination of the man showed a lined face caused by too much worry, a long nose, and cold gray eyes.

I gave a little bow. "My name is Mikel. This is my companion Suvan. We came here after a long and perilous journey."

He held up a piece of paper that I recognized as the note that I had brought so far. "This message is from the scout Tai? Tell me, what happened to him?"

I cleared my throat. "I was just a simple hotel owner until Tai came to my place to stay. He left during the night for some mission that this Council gave him. He was grievously wounded during this time. He somehow came back to my place where he wrote me that note. I'm afraid he died soon afterward."

"But the Mujadeen, do they know you are here?"

I shook my head and said, "I do not think so." I did not mention the stranger in black following me since I did not know how he could have tracked us here. "When the sub-Vizier Rasid found that Tai was dead, he assumed I was involved. My maid was assaulted and killed. My hotel was burned to the ground. I was left for dead and only lived because of the actions of your man Kalam. It was Kalam who sent me on this errand, telling me that I would find sanctuary here."

He raised an eyebrow. "We shall speak of that later. Tell me, can you read what is on this note?"

I shook my head. "I cannot read the script of the Ancients. I have seen their words throughout the ruins in the valley, but they are still meaningless to me." For now, I thought it best not to mention Suvan's knowledge of the language.

"Please, Ibam," the council member on the left said, "get to the point. Of course he does not know the words of the Ancients. Only the most learned of men do."

Ibam smiled at his fellow council member for only a moment. "I will, Lydon." He returned his attention back to me. "Thanks to Kalam, we already know of you, Mikel. His reports has mentioned your hotel several times. But we must be careful that you are not a spy." He raised in hand before I could protest. "I admit that we are merely a thorn in the side of the Mujadeen. They have tried to send spies before, but we are a little difficult to find unless you know the way. You are lucky that Vinc here found you. He is our most able soldier. Now tell us what happened to you in city of the Wasteland."

I gave them an outline of our adventure, leaving nothing out but the private moments that I enjoyed with Suvan.

When I had finally finished telling my story, Ibam leaned back into his chair and nodded. "It is too bad that Kalam sent you through the valley. When he last journeyed through there, it was still mostly free of the accursed Mutans. But things have changed since then. Do you believe that this Tahn, the so-called father of the Mutans, will be trouble in the future?"

All I could do was shrug my shoulders. "I do not know. He seems to control them, but I do not know his intentions."

Ibam said, "I see. The Mutans used to scrape an existence out in the ruins, but now they are actively harassing traders and even making raids into nearby lands. Even we have felt their presence since we have to traverse the Wasteland to get the food necessary to keep us alive. They are a danger, but we do not yet have the resources to combat them."

"Yet?" Suvan asked, finally speaking for the first time.

Ibam smiled graciously at her. "It is by your action that this note managed to reach us. I thank you. But our plan from the start has been to slowly take over the countryside, eventually getting the populace on our side. Only when we have an army large enough can we battle the Mujadeen and the Mutans."

Suvan replied coolly, "I've traveled to many places with my father. I don't recall seeing a single place controlled by you."

This started the other members of the Council to murmur in protest.

The man called Lydon nodded. "At the rate we are going, we will never have an army large enough to battle either."

With another smile that I found condescending, Ibam said, "We are few while the Mujadeen are many. But we are here, far from their lands across the Wasteland. We only have a few agents in place, but the march of time is on our side. The Mujadeen grow weaker with each passing year. They will crumble. When that happens, we will step in and make our move."

Lydon jumped to his feet and said, "We have discussed this many times, Ibam. Why should we continue to wait year after year, when we can stop this senseless battle with the Mujadeen now? We continue to live like rats, cowering in the mountains, waiting for a day that may never come. If we make peace with the Mujadeen, then we could trade with them, or even affect the political process. I'm sure the Warlord is a reasonable man. The Mutans are the real danger here. We should deal with them first!"

"Don't be a fool," Ibam responded angrily. "Would you have us give away everything our ancestors worked for? They barely survived, struggling to survive here in the mountains. It is only through their hard work and intelligence that we are here today. I want a future for my children, not slavery under a tyrant that doesn't even have the will of the people."

Before he could go on, I interrupted this speech and asked, "Will you please tell us what the message from Tai says?"

Ibam let out a breath, staring hard at Lydon. After a moment of hesitation, he finally said, "Of course, Mikel, that is your right as the messenger. Tai was sent to investigate certain recent reports that we had heard concerning the Mujadeen. It had been rumored that they are digging deep into the sand, looking for weapons of the Ancients. So far their searches have been fruitless. That is until now. The Mujadeen have found an old missile silo. According to the note here, this silo is intact with an unfired missile."

I felt confused by these words. "What does that mean?"

This time Vinc spoke; his words were harsh. "You traveled through the Wasteland. You saw the damage done by the Ancients so long ago. If we are to believe this note from Tai, the Mujadeen have found such a weapon. There is no reason that they could not use it on us."

I stared at him in disbelief. "But surely such a weapon could not last all these years. I have seen with my own eyes the damage done by time to the city and the remnants within. There's nothing there but the rust and dust."

Vinc said, "That is true, but the Ancients were able to protect their most important weapons from harm. Missiles such as this were buried deep into the ground, where they went to great lengths to keep them free from the elements. It is entirely possible that this weapon can still be launched against us."

"They would never dare," Lydon added without being asked.

Ibam made himself known again. He said, "What Vinc said is true which is why we need to send someone to investigate this further and if need be, put a stop to it." He stared at me as he said these last words.

"Surely you don't mean me?" I asked in surprise. "I barely made it here alive and now you want to send me out into the Wasteland again?"

Ibam replied, "You have seen how few there are of us. We need someone who is familiar with the area around Ewark. I'm afraid Kalam is getting too old for such activity. Anyway, if you want a place in our community, then you must help us."

"This is blackmail," Suvan angrily interjected.

"You can call it what you want, but you cannot afford to leave us now. But don't worry, Mikel, shall have Vinc here to go along with you. He will bring a dozen of his men. They will make sure that you are protected."

Lydon strode out of the room without saying a word.
Chapter 26

That night I returned to the hospital to sleep. As I was settling in, the doctor stopped in and checked my condition, confirming I was in good enough health to travel once again. After he had left, I shut off the lights and went to bed. Instead of sleeping, I pondered the events of the day. Though I disagreed with Lydon of the Council on most of the issues he raised, he did have one point - the rising danger of the Mutans must be dealt with before the Mujadeen. And I was also in no mood to return to Ewark, even if my future depended on it. It wasn't fair that I had had to suffer through so much only to put my life on the line once again. But even those thoughts were nothing compared to the jealousy I felt. Was is possible that Suvan could fall in love with that pig-headed Vinc?

My tumultuous thoughts eventually gave away to an uneasy sleep.

I awoke. My eyes were greeted by darkness, but I found that I could not move. Before I could shout, somebody held down my arms while someone else affixed a gag to my mouth. I tried to struggle, using my legs to kick away the blanket, but it was too late since I was being held down by many hands. I could do nothing to stop them.

My body was then physically dragged out of the hospital. In the dimness of the moonlight sky, I could see that there were four of them, dressed in dark-colored robes that hid their faces from view. I was thrown face down into a waiting cart. The cart was then pulled and pushed along by hand for some distance before I was forcibly removed. There was a small house here, its windows dark and lifeless. One of my abductors knocked at the door which was hurriedly opened. I was brought inside where it was dark, and forced to sit on a chair where I was quickly tied down. Only then was my gag removed.

"Who are you?" I spat out.

"Just one moment," a disembodied voice answered. There was a snap and an overhead electrical light turned on.

I blinked several times. It took me a moment to recognize Lydon. Behind him stood four more men. They were all dressed in black robes that reminded me of the man who had followed me into the city. I asked impatiently, "Why have you brought me here? Wherever this is."

He smiled benignly. "I will do whatever it takes to stop that fool plan of Ibam's."

"But surely they will go on without me?" I countered. "What do I know that is so important to them?"

"You don't know Ibam like I do. He will spend much time fruitlessly searching for you, thinking that you don't want to live up to your part of the bargain. And that will give time for my friend here to return to Ewark before you."

The man standing closest to Lydon stepped forward. He threw back his hood to reveal himself.

To my surprise it was Hussen, the very man who had betrayed Tai to the Mujadeen. "What is he doing here?" was all that I could say.

Hussen laughed triumphantly. "You see, Mikel, it was a trick all along. The sub-Vizier decided to let you be rescued by that fool brewer Kalam. We knew about him all along. We then let you come here, providing me with the exact whereabouts of this Rebel city. It was I who stopped that desert patrol from killing you. It was I that saved you from that Mutan arrow. And it was you that led me here to luckily fall in with Lydon and his men. Once I told him that the sub-Vizier will be willing to make a treaty, he was most interested in what I had to say. Rasid will be pleased when I return to Ewark and tell him the good news. The rebellion will finally be broken and the Warlord will be sure to award me."

I looked at Lydon to see how he reacted to this information. He merely nodded as if he already knew all of this. I said, "Lydon, this truce with the Mujadeen, do you really think Hussen here will help you on that account?"

He replied with a laugh. "I have been given certain guarantees. No harm will come to the people here, provided we give ourselves up to them. It's a better solution than the endless war we've been waging these countless years. There will finally be peace and we can instead concentrate on the Mutan threat."

"It will be better," Hussen agreed with a half-hidden sneer.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "I would not trust Hussen. I would not trust Rasid. They do not care for anyone but themselves."

Lydon merely said, "The agreement has already been made. You cannot talk me out of it."

Hussen said, "Now I must be going. I'm sure you'll have a pleasant time here as a guest. It's too bad that we'll never meet again." He then shook hands with Lydon and then left through the front door.

I slowly shook my head. I said, "By letting him go, you've just doomed everyone here. The Mujadeen will come and enslave everyone."

"Maybe," Lydon replied. "But afterward I will be made ruler of this town. There will be no more Council or Ibam telling me what to do." His eyes shone with an unnatural light that I found discomforting. This man lusted for power, not the safety of the Rebels.

Any further ranting on his part was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Lydon froze, his face frozen with shock. He drew the sword at his side. The other three did the same.

"Open up!" someone shouted from outside. I recognized the voice - it was Vinc. With a sudden crack, the door burst open. In rushed Vinc and several of his men. My captors dropped their weapons, not wanting to fight the best troops in town.

"Did you see a man leave?" I asked hopefully.

"I saw no one leave," Vinc replied with a shake of his head. "We have only just gotten here ourselves. Suvan went to check on you and found that you were missing. Lydon here was an obvious kidnapper, so after visiting his house and finding it empty, we came here to the home of his brother."

"Please don't hurt me," Lydon pleaded, his once strong voice reduced to a fear-soaked tremor.

"That's up to the Council to decide," Vinc replied without pity.
Chapter 27

We left the next day, using a steep path that went to the valley below. It was here that the horses were kept in a fenced paddock. Once we had sorted through and packed the stores, we mounted up and left the safety of the Rebel stronghold. I rode in the back of the pack, next to Suvan, while Vinc and his soldiers rode ahead. I hate to say that I was in a foul mood and barely spoke to Suvan. She took my silence in stride and instead seemed rather taken by this new excursion. Perhaps she was more adventurous, but by now I preferred the quiet life.

I was still smarting from the way I was treated at the Council. I had lost my way of living and taken great risks to deliver Tai's message. For all my recent troubles with Hussen and Lydon, it was unfair to be given this new task. I was also tired and still recovering from the wounds I had received. Why did they still require me to go on this dangerous journey?

The Wasteland looked the same as before but I was glad to be on horseback this time. Our plan was to try to catch up to Hussen before he could reach Ewark. Barring that, we would proceed to the silo and try to stop the missile from being used. In the cover of night, Hussen had managed to escape the town unscathed. His tracks were discovered by Vinc's men, showing that the spy was riding straight east across the desert. We would follow as quickly as we could, using the extra water rations that had been brought on two pack horses.

"Cat got your tongue?" Suvan asked me, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

I waved my hand at the sand around us. "I'm just not ready for this yet," I admitted.

She smiled kindly. "No one is ever truly ready for life. You just have to do the best you can. And from where I've been watching, you've been doing an awfully good job so far."

Her kind words brightened my mood. "Thank you," was all that I could say. I wished I could have said more, but I didn't know where her heart lay.

She squinted, looking to the distant horizon. "When I first met you, I doubted if you were good for anything. But you proved me wrong time and time again. You fought and suffered with me and saved my life on several occasions. You were even willing to sacrifice yourself to save me. That took bravery."

"I don't feel very brave."

"I don't think anyone ever does," she said, staring at me. "But I suppose it's a matter of whether you run away or not. You never ran from me."

I couldn't help but blush. I felt the quaver in my voice when I asked, "Tell me, do you have any interest in Vinc?"

She laughed; the sound was like silvery bells. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it is the way he looks at you. I can tell that he is interested in you."

"Of course I am grateful to him for saving our lives. He also showed me around the town and I was glad for his company. He's a brilliant man in his own way."

"I see," I commented dryly.

"Jealous?" she playfully asked.

"I think I have a right to feel that way," I retorted.

Her mood suddenly changing, Suvan glared at me with distaste. "Perhaps you do, but don't let it go to your head. I'm not a woman who can be kept like a horse or a favorite pet. What I decide to do with my life is up to me."

I shook my head. "I can't say I've ever met a woman like you."

"Then you haven't met many women. We're all different. Once you learn that, then perhaps we can talk again."

I felt my face flush with anger. Instead of replying, I took a drink from my canteen and stared straight ahead. I fell back into silence, hardly speaking a word to Suvan or anyone else until we stopped for the night.

Vinc, who had never shown me much interest on this trip before, stopped by my bedroll. The other men and Suvan were sitting around a smoldering fire while I had decided to go off and sleep by myself. On top of the nearest dune sat a guard who was to watch as we slept.

"Why don't you join us?" Vinc asked, his features shadowed by darkness.

I shrugged. "Tonight I prefer to be alone."

"I see," he said even though I could tell by the tone of his voice that he did not.

I said, "Look, I appreciate your help in crossing the Wasteland. I've never properly thanked you for saving my life either. You've done it twice now. If it wasn't for you, I would be dead, but I still don't need you watching over me for every moment of my life."

"It is no bother," he said dryly. "I only do it for the sake of Suvan because she seems to care for you. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't even make the effort."

I stared at him. "Why do you care what she thinks?"

"My life as a soldier is a lonely one. I have patrolled the desert all of my life, fighting Mutans, and keeping my land safe from the Mujadeen. I have never had the time for women or given them that much thought. But when I saw Suvan for the first time, my heart changed forever. I worship her, but do not have the strength to tell her so."

"Why exactly are you telling me this?" I asked, wondering how such a soldier could suffer from shyness.

He sighed plaintively. "You two crossed the Wasteland together. You have also spent much time together, fighting for survival. I would like to know where you stand with her."

"There is nothing between us," I said coldly, not wanting to answer his question.

"That's good," he said, his tone becoming brighter than I had ever heard before. "Then I am free to pursue her? You will not mind?"

"Go ahead," I replied, hating myself for being so glib. I was still angry with Suvan. I just wanted to forget about her, but I still felt a flash of hot jealousy from Vinc's words.

"Good!" Vinc exclaimed. He clapped me on the shoulder and then proudly stepped back to join the others, adding to the bright laughter around the campfire.

Their cheerfulness only made my own mood worse. I slipped inside the bedroll and covered my head. It seemed like forever before the camp quieted down. Terrible thoughts of jealousy and anger filled my head. It took quite some time before I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 28

We traveled on. Two days later we came across a wide furrow on the desert floor that covered Hussen's tracks. By now we had traveled well past the valley, so this new sight was very strange. But a closer examination of the soft sand showed that it was made by hundreds of marching Mutan feet. They were on the move, heading straight east towards Ewark. Vinc commanded that we turn off to the side, fearing we would catch up to this mighty host. That also meant we would have to stop our pursuit of Hussen.

It was a day later when we reached the edges of Ewark. By this time our food supply was low, and the water we had left wasn't very good either. Part of me was looking forward to being back in Ewark, but hated the idea of seeing the burned remains of my hotel. Those thoughts were tossed aside when I saw the smoke off on the horizon. My heart sank into my stomach. "What is it?" I heard myself saying.

"It has to be the Mutans," Vinc answered. "Those tracks we saw the other day; they were headed towards the town. It has to be war."

I shook my head. "But the Mutans have never attacked Ewark before. We were protected by the Mujadeen!"

Vinc replied, "But the Mutans have never moved in such numbers. It would take more than a few men on horseback to stop such a mighty army."

He then sent three of his men to gallop ahead. Suvan looked visibly shaken as our group rode on. We all remained silent, fearful of what lay ahead.

As we approached the city, I could see the smoldering remnants of buildings. Nothing was left standing, not even the minarets of the mosque. I found it ironic that the rest of Ewark had met the fate of my hotel. Cluttering the streets were countless remains of bodies – both human and Mutan - that had been picked over by circling crows. Not a sound could be heard but the flapping of wings against the heat of the air. As I viewed the destruction, I felt sick with helplessness. I somehow felt that I could have done something to stop this terrible bloodshed.

"I'm sorry," I heard Suvan say. She was now riding next to me, her eyes wide with fear. These were the only words we had exchanged since our last conversation.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," I said crossly. I was still angry with her, but the embers of her words had cooled since then.

"Where was your hotel located?"

I pointed to the crumbled walls. It appeared that the fire had destroyed the inside before the entire building had collapsed on itself. There was nothing left but a pile of blackened bricks. It was hard to think that everything I once owned was now reduced to ashes. Perhaps it was a fitting tomb for Molli. She would have wanted to stay at the hotel until the end of her days and beyond.

"I have visited Ewark with my father only once before," Suvan was saying. "It seemed like a nice place."

"It was okay," I replied. "But the people here did not deserve to die this way. No one deserves such a fate."

Vinc was nearby, listening to our conversation. He said, "The issue of the Mutans is graver than we ever expected. I never knew their numbers have grown so strong. Never before did they have the strength to pull off an attack of this magnitude."

I said, "Perhaps Lydon was right - your feud with the Mujadeen must be put to a rest until the Mutans have been destroyed. They are surely a more pressing problem than some ancient vendetta."

Vinc shook his head stubbornly. "Our battle with the Warlord and his Mujadeen has been going on for generations. They are the greater evil. I am surprised by your response, considering the great injustice they have given you."

I pointed to the destruction surrounding us. "Though they are tyrants, the Mujadeen has never killed on a great scale like this."

Before Vinc could answer, one of the scouts had returned. His face was a frozen mask of horror and when he talked, his voice was cracked with raw motion. "Sir, a mile distant from here I came across the site of a recent battle. It looks as if the Mujadeen met the Mutans there to fight. The area is strewn with dead from both sides. The Mujadeen must have put up a good fight for there are many of the evil creatures left for the carrion birds. But sadly there are also many dead men. The signs show that the Mujadeen were forced to retreat. Where they are now, I cannot say. Afterward the Mutans moved into Ewark and as you can see, laid waste to the town."

"Thank you," Vinc said to the man. "Now go rejoin the other men. We shall leave this accursed place soon."

After the soldier left, Suvan said, "What shall we do now?"

"There is nothing left to do," Vinc answered. "The missile silo has surely been overrun by the Mutans. Any threat of the Mujadeen has been overtaken by these fresh events. I will have to return to the Council to tell them of these new tidings. Once the other scouts return, we shall start back."

Seized with an idea, I said, "I would like to see if Kalam is still alive."

"Do not waste your time," Vinc replied. "He is either dead or has fled before the Mutans have arrived."

"I still want to check," I replied sharply.

"I will go with you," Suvan offered. Her face was now alight with the idea of helping me. Perhaps she would feel better if she had something to do other than feel the helplessness in face of the horror that surrounded us.

"You can do whatever you want," Vinc said testily. "At least until my other men return. So be quick about it."

I did not respond, but instead wheeled my horse in the direction of Kalam's. I then took off in a gallop, feeling angry by Vinc's heartless words. He didn't seem to care for the people of this town or for Kalam, who had saved me for certain death.

With Suvan tagging along, I soon found myself at the ruins of Kalam's house. The once tidy home was now a charred ruin: the burned front door was open, the roof collapsed, and the mud walls were scorched black. I dismounted. Rushing to the door, I pushed it further open. Inside there was nothing but blackened remains, the only thing left of the sturdy furniture and fine rugs that had once littered the floor. However the floor itself, which was made out of mud, was still intact. I wondered if the cellar below was still undamaged. Entering the home, I treaded carefully through the wreckage until I had reached the kitchen. There a wall had fallen in, covering the trapdoor that went to the basement.

"Suvan!" I called out. "Come and help me!"

She was soon at my side. We worked together and cleared away the heavy rubble around the trapdoor. I carefully opened it, only to find the glint of an arrowhead pointing at my face. It was Kalam, an arrow drawn back on his bow. When he saw me, the tension of the bow went slack. He smiled in relief.

"Praise be Allah!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were returning Mutans!"

I laughed, happy to see his familiar face once again. "Tell me, old friend, how did you survive this terrible calamity?"

He came out of the cellar and viewed the destruction with a disappointed shake of his gray head. "First, let us go outside so I can get some fresh air. The familiar smell of my basement is now too much for me."

We went outside. Kalam looked at the destruction with a disapproving frown. He then stared at Suvan and asked, "Who is your pretty friend here?"

"This is Suvan. She saved my life out in the Wasteland."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said with a bow. "Now let us sit and I shall tell you what has happened since your unwanted exit."

We sat on the hot sand and listened to his story.

"A few days after you left, the town began to have problems with the Mutans. At first they were nothing but pinpricks - little raids on the outer areas that were easily repulsed by the Mujadeen. It seems the enemy was merely testing our defenses but the Sharif did not recognize this possibility. I became worried for your own survival. I had sent you into the Wasteland, fully expecting you would have minimal problems with the Mutans. Instead, I sent you into an armed camp! I truly apologize for my error."

"I am still alive," I commented blandly.

"And praise Allah for safeguarding you from harm. But when the main Mutan attack materialized, the Mujadeen were in no position to stop them. Thanks to the patrols, they were warned that a mighty host was descending on Ewark. The people of the town were drafted to join the small Mujadeen army. So the men stayed while the women and children who could travel were sent north. There wasn't much time, and I can only pray that they escaped without being molested by the enemy.

"The army of the Mujadeen assembled on the plains to the south of here. I was assigned to a thin line of bowmen on the left flank. In the middle, the sub-Vizier Rasid held his reserve of a hundred swordsmen under the command of the Sharif. On the right was the cavalry of some two hundred horses. We all stood there with nothing to do but worry and wait. The air was quiet until the sound of distant thunder rumbled from the west. At first we thought it was a coming storm until the horizon turned black with the approaching Mutan horde. In all my years I have never seen such a horrific sight. Men's' knees quavered with fear, and half the army would have run if the sub-Vizier had not started praying out loud for the guidance of Allah. His words steadied the men. Afterward we waited with what little courage we could muster.

"The Mutans marched towards us without fear and without haste. Their arrows rained down on us, turning the sky as black as night. My line of bowmen fired into their flank but it was like throwing a rock at a swarm of bees. Everything looked lost until the cavalry charged straight down the enemy middle. I don't know why, but it seems that the Mutans fear horses for they almost broke from the brave charge. But there were too many of the foul creatures for it to work. Soon all the horses had been brought down; the riders killed. With a ferocious pace, the Mutans then struck at the last line of swordsmen and soon overwhelmed them. The rest of us ran for it. I fled to the safety of my basement where all I could hear was screaming as the town was destroyed. When it finally grew quiet, I found I was trapped below. I waited there, drinking my beer, until you arrived."

I nodded. "I am glad that you survived. Do you know what happened to the sub-Vizier? Is he still alive?"

"That I do not know. He was on horseback, so it is entirely possible that he escaped."

I asked eagerly, "What of the missile silo? What do you know about that?"

"After you left, I took it upon myself to continue to keep an eye on the diggings. I have neither the stamina or agility of Tai, but I still managed to work in close enough to see the facility for myself. It is located between two hills, offering a natural defense against any attackers. Even with the increasing incursions of the Mutans, as far as I know the facility was never evacuated."

"So there is still a chance that the Mujadeen are in possession of the weapon?"

He nodded. "I would say so. Before the battle with the Mutans, I wondered why there were so few of us. I thought that perhaps the sub-Vizier actually left the bulk of his men to guard the missile silo."

Suvan angrily interjected and said, "But why would they sacrifice Ewark for something like that?"

Kalam laughed, "You cannot imagine the strange decisions the powerful will make to protect their own interest."

"We shall have to tell Vinc about this," I said. "We cannot return to the mountains yet - not until the weapon has been destroyed."
Chapter 29

After hearing this fresh news, Vinc slowly shook his head in disbelief, looking between Kalam and myself. "Are you saying the Mujadeen can still use that missile against us?" he asked skeptically.

"I don't know what their intentions are," Kalam answered honestly. "I only know that they may have sacrificed this town in order to save that accursed weapon. You will have to send someone to investigate before you return. Perhaps the Mutans have already overrun the silo and now possess the weapon. The Council will want to be sure."

Vinc answered, "If this place is heavily guarded as you say, then how can I examine it for myself? You are asking the impossible out of such a small force as this. We would be cut to ribbons if we tried to enter."

Kalam shrugged. "I cannot say. You are supposed to be a soldier, so you must figure something out."

"I will do it," I volunteered. "One man, if he is careful, can slip inside anyplace, provided he is cautious enough."

"I got close enough to see the silo," Kalam said in agreement. "I'm sure someone else with more agility could slip into the silo itself if they tried."

Vinc stared hard at me, weighing the possibility of my success. "But what can you tell us about this weapon? You are no expert on the weapons of the Ancients."

I replied, "And you are? No one here could truly say how this missile works, could they? But anyone could assess the possibility of it still being operational. Such devices are complex; any sign of decay would certainly stop the missile from being successfully fired."

"But what's in it for you, Mikel?" Vinc asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "My business has been destroyed and so has my town. If this weapon is as dangerous as the Council says, then it must be stopped at all costs. I'm the obvious choice since I have nothing left to lose."

After another moment of reflection, Vinc answered. "You can go. It is a foolish venture, but it is best that we know before returning."

"I want to go too," Suvan suddenly said. She had been watching this conversation without saying a word. I was surprised when she finally spoke up, but glad that she wanted to share the danger with me.

"I forbid it!" Vinc said after the initial surprise of her statement had worn off. "It won't be safe for a woman to venture there."

Her eyes blazing with anger, Suvan spat out, "You can't tell me what to do. I will go with Mikel, and there is nothing that you can do about it."

"It's too dangerous," Vinc shot back, his bronzed face turning red.

I said to her, "I will gladly accept your assistance, Suvan."

My words only aggravated Vinc further, his words filled with vitriol. "Go ahead and get yourself killed, but I wash my hands of the entire matter." He then stalked away, his back stiff with anger. I couldn't help notice with some satisfaction that Suvan looked at his retreating figure with nothing but pure loathing.

Turning my attention to Kalam, I said, "What is the best way to get into the silo?"

He took a stick and drew a map in the sand. When had finished, he said, "You see the two hills here. They are rocky and very difficult to climb. The silo resides between them. The Mujadeen have built two tall walls between the hills, enclosing the silo within. There is also a barracks made with mud which holds the soldiers and workers. Rasid has a tent nearby for his own use."

"What does the silo look like?"

Kalam laughed. "It's nothing like a corn silo. From my vantage point up on one of the hills, it looks like a low, circular hole made out of cement that looks as fresh as the day it was poured. There is a large cover on top to protect the missile inside from the elements. There is a second, man-sized door in the base of the cement that allows access to within."

Suvan asked, "When you saw it last, how many soldiers were there?"

"Only a dozen, but that was before the Mutan invasion. There could be many more Mujadeen there, trying to find a place of refuge from the last battle."

I asked, "So what is the best way in?"

He shook his head. "The walls are guarded night and day, as is the gate on the western side. It would be foolish to try that way. I saw everything that I described to you from the vantage point of the northern hill. Perhaps you could find a way down from that side, but doing it at night will be quite dangerous."

I had the glimmer of an idea. I turned my attention to Suvan and said, "We scaled the cliffs of the valley with the help of ropes. Do you think we could do the same going down? It would be better than trying to find a foothold at night."

"If we had some rope, " Suvan earnestly replied.

"I have some in my basement," Kalam said, his eyes shining with excitement. "If you tie two of them together, it should be just long enough."
Chapter 30

Before making our way to the camp, we waited for setting of the sun. It would be better to work in the dark and free of Mutan interference. Finally, with the arrival of twilight, we left. Vinc traveled with us while the rest of his men rode away to a safer destination closer to the Wasteland. His mood hadn't improved, but at least this time he rode in a sullen silence instead of speaking. Using a borrowed horse, Kalam led our little group with considerable skill, picking the best route to travel without being seen. Above, the moon was nothing but a sliver, cloaking our movements in darkness. But the closer we progressed to the silo, the lighter the horizon became. It was still night, so I was reminded of my escape from the valley when the Mutans had blocked our exit, keeping the area lit with massive fires.

My worst fear was true. Reaching the crest of a hill, I saw countless bonfires grouped around two high hills. It was the Mutans, laying siege to the remnants of the local Mujadeen. I motioned for the others to stop and dismount. After pulling myself down from the back of my horse, I got down on my belly and crawled forward. Once I was at the very top of the hill, I stopped to watch. I was soon joined by the others.

"There must be thousands of those cursed creatures down there," I said as I watched the flickering flames.

"Aye," Vinc said. "I never imagined they were such a force. We must give up this foolish errand and return to the Council."

Suvan, who was keeping her distance from Vinc, said, "I'm sure we could reach one of this hills if we really tried. Most of the Mutan interest seems centered around those walls. What do you think, Mikel?"

"You'll be throwing your life away," Vinc said. His tone was almost pleading. He really was deeply in love with Suvan. Not that I could blame him.

"We can only try," I said with little conviction. I really wasn't looking forward to taking the risk, but I did not want Vinc proven right either. But if this missile was as powerful as claimed, then it would be necessary to destroy it before it could be used. Such a hellish device had already caused enough damage. The Ancients could not control their own impulses for destruction, how could we hope to do so?

"Let's get going," Suvan said impatiently. Without a further word, she slid down the hill and disappeared into the gloom below.

Before joining her, I first pulled the lengths of rope off of my horse. After a friendly handshake with Kalam and a glare from Vinc, I clambered down the slope of the hill. At the bottom I found Suvan waiting for me.

"Vinc is such a bore," she whispered in my ear. "I'm sorry." She then kissed me lightly on the cheek before walking away.

Even though I was about to face death, I now felt happier than I had ever felt before. I also felt like a fool for having falling in love with such a woman. She was mischievous, clever and completely unpredictable, but I would do anything for her. I ran to catch up to Suvan and took her by the arm. We were soon holding hands, making me feel younger than my years.

Treading carefully, our heads held low, we came to the first line of bonfires without any of the enemy seeing us. Apparently the Mutans had no watch or patrols to guard against attack. Since they had already destroyed the local Mujadeen army, perhaps they felt secure in their numbers. There was nothing left here for them to fear.

From our vantage point all I could see were sleeping Mutans, their dark bodies huddled together around the blazing fires. But still, this was no time to be incautious; it would only take one mistake, and we would be killed. Pushing aside my fear, we went on. But the further we went, the tighter Suvan's clasp became. By the quake of her hand, I could tell she was feeling as frightened as I was. The chill of the desert night seemed even colder than before, causing my neck to prickle with unease. But on we went, every fire we passed yet another bridge to cross.

When we reached the halfway point, the number of Mutans increased dramatically. They were now practically littering the ground, sleeping with ever-present muttering and twitching as if suffering from some terrible nightmare. Their evil smell was now thick in the air, making my nostrils recoil in disgust. At this point Suvan's grip was like a vice, the nails biting hard into the palm of my hand. We moved more cautiously than ever here, stepping quietly and gently over the sleeping Mutans. Every step was torture, knowing it would only take one little mistake to awaken the wrath of these terrible creatures.

In such circumstances, time has a way of moving at a glacial crawl. A normal minute is a fleeting thing, but now every second was like molasses. It seemed like hours when we finally reached the last ring of bonfires. It was here that the Mutans were thickest. There was hardly anywhere to step now that the ground was nearly solid-black with the shadows thrown by the reposed bodies of these malicious beasts. But here and there, Suvan still found a place to step, guiding me through this dangerous maze of breathing Mutans.

So intent was I on our progress that I nearly missed a movement to our left. I suddenly stopped, causing Suvan to almost lose the grip of my hand. Around a blazing fire, some fifty yards away, was a ring of sleeping Mutans, their bodies forming a protective wall. Inside this wall of evil flesh there was a little white tent where a human was pacing back and forth as if deep in thought. It was Tahn.

As soon as Suvan saw what I was looking at, she let out a choked-off gasp.

Even though I shouldn't be, I was still surprised myself. It only made sense that Tahn would oversee the march of his army of mutations, but to see him out of the city still came as a shock to my senses. My intuition had been correct – Tahn was not only the creator of these foul beasts, but like a general, he was leading them against humanity. This was a worse crime than anything the Mujadeen had ever done.

But why was he here? I suddenly remembered the message I was carrying – Than had read it when I was knocked out by that foul drug. He was here for the missile too!

Suvan's hand dropped from mine. Straddling a Mutan, she had already notched an arrow into her bow.

"Don't!" I whispered urgently.

"But I can get him from here," she shot back.

"If you miss or don't kill him right away, then he'll have a chance to give the alarm. We won't have a chance," I warned her, hoping she could keep her natural impulsiveness under control.

Our hushed words still weren't quite enough. The Mutan under her feet rolled on his side, his back resting against Suvan's calf. After some hesitation, she slowly slid the arrow back into her quiver.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I glanced once more at Tahn, wishing I could somehow extinguish his life. Without him, the Mutans would have no direction or force. They would have no choice but to break apart and return to their warrens in the City of the Wasteland. But to kill him here would also end my own life. With a shake of my head, I returned my attention to making my way to the hill beyond.
Chapter 31

What Kalam called a hill was really more of a stony butte that would be impossible to climb if only given a superficial examination. But according to Kalam there were naturally-formed impressions that could be used for clambering up the steep surface. On the left side of the hill, we found such a way. In a few moments we started to climb high above the ground just as the light of dawn began breaking over the horizon. The fires ringing the Mujadeen fort were beginning to die down. I could see the Mutans were beginning to wake.

We reached the top of the hill and could now look into the Mujadeen camp below. A line of a dozen soldiers armed with bow and swords were stationed at the walls, their attention solely turned to the Mutans. There was a paddock that contained a few horses, a low mud building that I took to be the barracks, and a single tent that had to belong to Rasid. But the most noticeable thing was the massive hole centered right in the middle of the camp. There was the site of their excavation. Nestled inside was a large concrete structure with a sunken and round metallic covering that was at least thirty feet in diameter. This was the site of the missile silo where the weapon of the Ancients resided. After coming so far, I felt strangely elated. After all the trouble I had experienced, the end was finally in sight.

As Suvan watched below, I glanced behind us. The Mutans were now all awake, quickly lining up into stacked formations facing the camp walls. A shout went up near Tahn's tent and the rest of the Mutans joined in a frightful chorus. A moment later and the arrows were flying fast and thick into the encircled camp. The Mujadeen soldiers could do nothing but hide behind the walls as the hail of arrows fell inside. Several horses were hit, sending them running in circles with wild-eyed panic.

"This is our chance," I told Suvan. "The guards inside will be too busy to pay attention to us."

She nodded, her jaw set in determination. Taking the rope from my shoulder, she tied one end to an outcropping and then let the other side drop to the ground below. In a moment, she was climbing down, using her feet to brace herself against the side of the rock. She moved quickly. A few arrows flew by, but nothing was close enough to cause her concern. After she had made it to the ground, I quickly followed suit. The rope felt rough against my hands, burning my palms and fingers as I rappelled down. After a few moments of frantic motion, my feet planted down on the desert floor. I darted over to Suvan who was hiding behind a dirt piling; a leftover of the silo excavation.

From our hiding spot, I watched. The scene inside the camp was pure chaos. As the arrows flew, several Mujadeen soldiers were running back and forth with no order or discipline. From the front, I heard a new sound of metal striking metal. I heard the cry "To the Gates! To the Gates!" repeated several times, but the response was lackluster.

Suvan clutched my hand, her breathing hard and fast.

"Perhaps you should have stayed with Vinc," I said.

She shot me a baleful stare. "I would rather die here with you."

I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. I then whispered, "Don't worry, we'll get out of here somehow. We made it through that terrible city together, what's another chance at certain death?"

With a laugh, she kissed me back. "Then let's go!" she said brightly.

We took off running towards the pit of the excavation. We went past soldiers who were too busy to pay us any attention. They were too engrossed with dodging the hail of arrows and dealing with the pounding on the front gate to bother with us. With a jump we were inside the excavation, clambering towards the metal door embedded in the side of the concrete embankment.

Suvan was the first to reach it, but when she turned the handle, the door did not budge. I soon added my strength but it was to no avail. It was locked tight.

"Is there another way in?" Suvan asked, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

I shook my head. "I don't think so, but I'll go check. Don't worry, I'll be right back." I then made a hasty reconnaissance around the concrete structure but did not find any other egress. When I returned to Suvan, she saw from my expression that there was no other way in.

"If we cannot get in, then what can we do?" she asked, her voice rising in panic,

"Rasid must have locked himself in there," I said, trying to control my own fear. "It's the safest place to be right now."

"I wouldn't mind being in there myself," Suvan said with a shudder as another barrage of arrows went flying over, a few striking the ground near us.

My past feeling of elation had passed. We were going to die, trapped here as the Mutans broke through the wall. Our only escape was to try gain the height of the hill again, but we no longer had the cover of darkness. The Mutans would easily see our progress up the hill and we would be trapped on all sides.

The ground underneath my feet began to tremble. There was a shriek of metal sliding against metal that rattled through the air. The sound was coming from above our heads. I quickly ran up the side of the pit to look down on the top of the concrete structure. I immediately saw that the silo was opening, exposing a wide black hole within.

"Suvan!" I cried out as I ran back to her. "The top of the silo is opening! Let me push you up."

Grabbing her by the waist, I hoisted her up to the top of the concrete. When she had gained her footing, she turned around, took my hand and leaned back, allowing me to gain a foothold. I was soon by her, staring down into the dark recesses below. A dark gleam of metal pointed upwards at us. It was the missile - a cone of shiny metal that disappeared into the darkness.

I noticed a metal ladder mounted on the side of the wall. Pointing to it, I said to Suvan, "There is our way."
Chapter 32

I took the lead in climbing the ladder. As we clambered down, a great shout could be heard from outside. The shout soon became a wail of panic. From the sound, I surmised that the gate had been broken, allowing the Mutan host inside. This thought only made me move faster than before since it would only take a few minutes for the enemy to brush aside the remaining Mujadeen soldiers. After that, their attention would be turned to the silo, meaning we would be trapped inside. The light coming from above became less with each step further down into the gloom. The missile was now nearly touching our backs; a metallic obelisk of the past that was minutely vibrating with some unknown power. I wished I had the time to investigate this object at my leisure, but events were moving too quickly.

It was a relief when I finally touched bottom. As I waited for Suvan, I looked at the opening above. The pale light of the blue sky was only a distant disk above us. Down here, all I could smell was dust, but the dim surroundings looked to be free of decay. I really wondered if this relic could really be operational. Surely such a complicated piece of machinery could not last all these years without some kind of critical piece malfunctioning. But what did I know of such technology?

When Suvan had joined me on the silo floor, we began searching the walls for some way out of this pit. In the darkness, the collection of machinery and piping attached to the walls made this difficult. I was about to give up hope when a row of red lights that ringed the base of the floor lit up. Somewhere beyond the walls, a high-pitched bell started to ring. The glow of this new unexpected light was enough for Suvan to locate a small closed hatch. With a twist of a lever, I had it open. Inside there was a bright, unnatural light. Without a hint of caution, Suvan immediately crawled through.

Before I went, I glanced one more time to the sky above. With little surprise, I saw the face of Tahn and several Mutans looking down at me. In another moment I slipped through the opening, hoping we would find some way to escape this trap alive.

I found myself on my knees in a well-lit hallway. About to stand, my motion was cut-off by the unexpected words of Rasid.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Mikel." He was standing with Suvan, his arm around her neck and his pistol pointed at her head. "Though you may think otherwise, I'm glad to see that you are still alive. But down here, who knows how much longer that will be. But I will allow you to stand now."

I do so, staring at him with hatred. I also saw that Suvan's eyes were wide with fear, her lips slightly parted as if she was about to speak. I said impatiently, "The Mutans are close behind. It won't take long for them to figure out how to get in here."

Rasid laughed. "By that time, my friend, it will be too late for them to stop me. Now move it!" He pushed Suvan roughly forward, and I made the pretense of meekly following her. There was nothing to gain but my own death if I rushed him or even went for my own pistol hidden under my shirt. Rasid followed us, his gun trained on my back. We went down the hallway, the white tiled floor thick with dust that had been recently trampled by many boots. At the end of this passage was another metal door which Rasid motioned for Suvan to open. Once she had, he waved his gun at us, motioning us to go through.

Suvan went first, and I followed her in. The sight that greeted me inside was beyond anything that I had ever seen before. Around a low and long desk sat three men in plastic chairs. One of them was Hussen, who only stopped his work to give me a malicious grin. Their concentration was on the lit panels in front of them. It was a unfathomable mess of words, symbols and chaotic movement that I could make little sense of. The rest of the room was painted in a flat gray except for the far wall which was dominated by a larger lit panel that showed a map with symbols on it.

When Rasid saw my confusion, he said, "That's something called a display. Or so I have been told. The computer, or electronic machine, is used for targeting the missile. I've been told it's quite accurate, but with the power of this particular missile, it doesn't have to be a direct hit."

Suvan's fear gave away to curiosity. "But the electricity," she asked, "where does it come from?"

Rasid replied, "I've been told that there's a small power plant buried underneath us. The technicians told me there is enough energy there to run this place for another hundred years. Simply amazing, isn't it? The Ancients were truly masters of their craft. It's too bad they never got a chance to see this particular missile used. I'm sure they would have been pleased to see it still work after all these years."

I replied suspiciously, "You said something about targeting."

His dark eyes shined with excitement. "Very astute of you, Mikel. I always thought you were too smart for the likes of Ewark. You see I was given an order from the Warlord himself to finally put an end to the Rebels. Thanks to you and Hussen, I've tracked down their location. The power of their Council is that of a mayfly – completely ineffectual. But still, they continue to defy the Warlord and his glorious power. That is reason enough for what I am about to do. With the use of this ancient weapon, I will finally put the matter to rest. I'm going to destroy them with just the push of a button."

I looked at Rasid like he was a madman. And perhaps he was. "But what of the Mutans? They are surely more of a threat than the Rebels. Look at what they just did to Ewark, destroying your army in the process."

With his free hand, he gave me a dismissive wave. "Ewark doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Once the Rebels are killed off, the Mutans will be easy enough to destroy. The Warlord and his army will see to that."

"You're a fool!" I shouted. "There are thousands of Mutans in the city. I've seen what they can do, just as you did when they beat you in battle. They will overrun and destroy every last city until there is nothing left of humanity."

Rasid just stared blankly at me, ignoring my pleas.

Hussen then stood up from the desk. He turned and bowed to the sub-Vizier. He said, "Everything is ready, master."

"Are you sure this will work?" Rasid asked.

"As we were told by the technicians, the instructions were quite clear, sir. The coordinates have been entered, and it only takes your word to fire the missile. The proper codes have been entered and the fire button is ready for you to push."

"Never mind me. Just fire it now," Rasid said with a voice that was as cold as ice.

"As you command," Hussen answered.

While they were talking, I had slipped the gun out of my from under my shirt. Since Rasid was busy addressing the man, he did not see the movement until it was too late. I stretched out my arm and fired the gun, striking Rasid point-blank in the chest. His eyes went wide with shock as the blood began seeping from the wound. The hand that held the gun went slack, and he slid to the floor, his eyelids fluttering. He let out a single groan before he was silent and still.

Suvan merely stared at me, perhaps forgetting that I still carried a pistol.

Hussen looked at me wide-eyed, his expression one of dismay.

I said angrily, "I want you to get out of here. Take the other two and just leave!"

"But the Mutans! We're trapped down here," he pleaded.

"Then I guess you'll have to take that chance- just like we will when we have to leave."

"Very well," he gulped. With the wave of my pistol, the other two men left the desk and they quickly exited together through the door.

"Take Rasid's gun," I ordered Suvan.

She quickly complied, pulling the pistol from his clasp. She looked at with interest and then smiled. "You are a murderous brute when you want to be. But why did you let Hussen go?"

"What choice did I have? We have to disarm that weapon before someone else figures out how to use it. I would rather have Hussen out of here instead of him taking a chance and firing the missile. Anyway, I need to save my bullets for the Mutans when we try to make our escape."

"We can destroy the computer," Suvan suggested.

"Good, let's get started."

Before we had a chance, there was a sudden scream. I ducked my head out the door and saw Hussen come running back in our direction. He was being chased by a pack of Mutans. The two other men had been too slow and were already lying on the floor, dead. They were covered with blood. Hussen was quickly cut down by a few slashes of the blade. Behind the foul creatures stood Tahn. I shut the door, wishing I could lock it.

"What is it?" Suvan whispered, looking up from the screens in front of her.

"It's Tahn. He's here."

"What are we going to do?"

I felt the heft of my pistol in my hand. "Chances are we're going to die."

She reached over and grabbed my hand. "Then let's die together."

I took a step towards her and kissed her on the mouth. The overhead light suddenly went out, only to be replaced by a flashing red strobe. I turned and saw Rasid hunkered over the desk with his hands over the control panels. He turned, gave me one last leer, and then slumped to the ground.

Running over, I grabbed the front of his tunic and began to shake him. "What did you do? What did you do?" I shouted. But it was too late for answers since Rasid was finally dead.

The ground beneath my feet began to tremble. The red light above began to swirl at a faster rate, and the ringing bell started to ring louder than before. Meanwhile, Suvan rushed over to the desk and began to randomly push buttons. It was only a moment when the door burst open. The Mutans rushed into the room, their swords held high in the air.
Chapter 33

I fired. My first bullet struck the lead Mutan, sending him sprawling backwards. The next bullet tore into the rushing mass as they tripped over their comrade. I was soon joined by Suvan, who began clumsily firing Rasid's pistol. Our barrage of bullets slowed the foul creatures down, but did nothing to stop their aggressive nature. They kept on coming, glad at the chance to strike down a human. I kept firing until the pistol hammer fell on an empty cylinder. I was out of ammunition. Throwing aside my now worthless pistol, I then drew my sword and waited impatiently for Suvan to finish shooting. Knowing I was going to die soon, I could feel my heart hammering inside my chest.

It was only a second later when Suvan threw down the gun to draw out her bow. I took this chance and started slashing at the Mutans like a man possessed. The fire from our guns had already made a pile of fresh corpses, making the floor slippery with black blood. As I parried, slashed and jabbed with my blade, Suvan fired arrow after arrow into the horde of beasts. Though our actions were valiant, we could do little to stop the tide. But then the tremors of ground gave away to a mighty roar that practically shook me off my feet. I fought to stand up as did the Mutans. And then to my surprise, they turned and started to run away in a panic. The unfamiliar sound and motion of the firing missile had somehow scared them enough to flee.

Within a few moments, we were suddenly free of their attack. Through the open door, I could see Tahn trying to stop the remaining Mutans from retreating. His entreaties were ignored, and he was soon the only living creature left in the hallway. The overpowering sound of the missile launch had now ceased, leaving nothing but silence. Looking over the littered remains of his slaves, Tahn's eyes locked onto mine. I scowled at him as I stepped out with my sword at the ready.

"You!" he exclaimed, his eyes lit with madness "Where is my missile? I came all the way here to get my missile!"

"What do you mean, old man?"

"Back in the city, I read the note that you were carrying. It told of a great weapon hidden away here. It's mine! I came here with my sons to take what is mine."

"It's gone, you fool!" I shouted. "Your creatures have left you," I said as I hefted the sword in my hand. "I suggest you do the same before it's too late."

I'll never understand what madness overtook Tahn, but his expression turned to one of pure rage – his lips curled with hate, and the eyes blazed with passion. He rushed at me, fumbling for some object hanging from his waist. It was a dagger that he brought high over his head. With a maddening scream, he tried to plunge it into my chest.

Tahn was too slow. I dodged the blow, grabbed him by the neck and threw him hard against the wall. His head hit with a horrific crack, and Tahn fell to the ground like a rag doll. The way his neck was bent, I knew he was dead.

"Is it over?" Suvan whispered from behind me.

"Yes. Let's get out of here," I replied sourly.

We went down the hallway and opened the door at the end. From there we climbed the metal stairs until we reached a door that had already been forced open. We climbed out of the pit in silence, ignoring the dead bodies strewn within. The camp was devoid of life, the only things left were broken arrows and corpses.

I looked up at the sky, my eyes following the white cloudy trail of the missile. On the horizon there was a red and yellow glow that was brighter than the sun.

###

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The Other Works of Paul Westwood:

**The Color of Sin** : Devon Pierce lives a life of his own choosing, surviving by his wits and violent actions. For those in desperate need, he is the judge and executioner of last resort - above the law and incorruptible. Cleora Kinney has been wronged by an evil man and the Afghanistan treasure of her deceased father has been stolen. Only Devon Pierce can make things right. But first he must follow the clues found hidden deep in the shadowy underworld of the city of sin.

**Grave Injustice** : It had been in the Warren family for years: the ancestral home deep in the South. After the death of James's reclusive uncle, the house is now his to sell. But James is haunted by a childhood memory of a ghostly horror of a deceased young girl. With the help of his wife Beth, who is a law student, the young couple must solve a murder from the Civil War and lay to rest the spirit that still haunts the grounds. But the danger is not only in the past, but will come crashing into the present. Their lives and fortunes will be forever changed.

**Nano Zombie** : Not all zombies are undead. Brent is a man who lives in the near future, a crumbling civilization where man feeds upon man. Escaping from the chaos of the city, he is suddenly thrust into an unspeakable nightmare of sickness and war. In a world of apocalyptic horror, he battles for those he loves, an orphan girl and a woman with a mysterious past. In the desolated countryside, Brent fights to stay alive and find a cure to the most terrible disease that humanity has ever seen.

**Horror America** : Move over Sherlock Holmes! When the supernatural game's afoot, helpless people call on the good Dr. Townsend to save them. Ghosts, the undead, werewolves, and more horrors that man was not meant to see are loose in 1870s America, so it's up to Captain Parker, a gunslinger for hire, and Dr. Townsend to stop the horror. Yet when Townsend's beautiful daughter falls under the spell of a mysterious suitor, their fortitude will be tested in a battle like no other. Written in a series of connected short stories narrated by Parker, this novel will keep you turning pages late into the night.

**Lonely Are The Dead** : 1977. A ruthless serial-killer is stalking Bay City. His purpose is unknown, but the dismembered victims are always young and beautiful. In order to find the perpetrator, Police Detective Markus has to set aside his personal troubles, and pull the evidence together before panic sweeps the city. His only ally is Karen Dekker, a reporter with a tortured past and the chance to break the biggest story of her career.

**The Cursed Sun** : Two centuries after the Final War, civilization struggles to rise from the ashes of the new Dark Ages. An innocent man turned outlaw is forced on a journey across a desolated landscape, risking his life to deliver a warning to the growing rebellion. The message he carries will change the balance of power, and with it, the hopes of humanity.

**Murder at Zero Hour:** William Grant, an American, joins the British Army during the Great War. He is posted to France, where he witnesses the horrors of war on the front line. During a dangerous night patrol, a captain is murdered, leading to a series of unanswered questions. With only his wits, Grant must solve the mystery while keeping his own skin intact. Will he be a victim of war or just another victim?

**At Harper's Ferry** : The book that started it all. Jack Blackwood is a lonely drunk who starts a detective agency in the heart of Washington DC. As Fort Sumter is attacked, he and his partner Ezra are embroiled in a case that could change the very course of the war: the son of a retired congressman has gone missing, along with military papers outlining the Union's Anaconda Plan. At the heart of the matter is a beautiful prostitute, a trail of dead men, and a spy who will stop at nothing to deliver the plans to the Confederacy.

**At Bull Run** : The second book in the Blackwood Series. A wealthy man hires Jack Blackwood to find the murderer of his only son, who had recently joined a newly-formed Union cavalry regiment. In a city crowded with temptation, the investigation uncovers a killer who is targeting prostitutes and soldiers alike, causing panic in the ranks. Only Jack's wits and the power of the Colt can put a stop to the killings.

**At Shiloh** : The third book in the Blackwood series. As Grant's Army marches through Tennessee, it is beset by guerilla fighters led by the traitorous Major Gardner. An invaluable shipment of gold is stolen from the Union and must be retrieved at all costs. Posing as a guntrader, Jack must not only complete this impossible mission, but survive the perils of battle and the amorous advances of a widow trapped in an unfriendly town.

**The Blackwood Trilogy** : Jack Blackwood is a widower and a drunk. Ezra Miller is an ex-slave in a white man's world. Together, they run a detective agency in Washington DC. As the Civil War rages, they are involved in a series of cases that will change the very course of the war. This anthology collects all three adventures – At Harper's Ferry, At Bull Run, and At Shiloh - at one low price.

Free Bonus Chapter of The Color of Sin:

It was supposed to have been a nice and quiet evening at home. My current home being the an old warehouse that I had personally converted into apartments. I, of course, had kept the entire top floor and left the space underneath empty so I wouldn't be bothered by the worst impulses of humanity: noise. The other units brought in a tidy income though I purposefully kept the rents low enough to keep out the neuvo-rich. Instead, the building was populated with artists, workers, and a mish-mash of hustlers and conmen. They were the type of people who kept to themselves and weren't always asking questions about the landlord above. Instead they were quite happy to get entrance to such a secure building at an affordable price. And considering the area we lived in, D Street Avenue in Las Vegas, a little safety went a long way.

I was sitting on the sofa with my legs up on the footrest and half a Gimlet at my elbow. On my lap was a tablet. I was scrolling through a map app, trying to find the best way to drive out of this town. July was coming, which meant the hottest part of the year. A vacation was due, and I was entertaining the thought of taking my car on an extended tour of Oregon. I really didn't want to leave - I liked this town - but I was overcome with a feeling of restlessness. I had been bored as of late, which often happens in my line of work.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the graceful movement of Melodie Glass, who was working on some new dance moves. She had come over for the privacy and the fact that I had a massive space to practice in. The massive JE Labs speakers and Mark Levinson electronics were an additional bonus. The high-reved pop music sounded dismal to my ears, but she seemed to enjoy the fidelity as she stretched and contorted her dancer's body into moves that only can be done by top-level gymnasts or professional strippers. She was the latter sort.

Melodie was pale with long black hair, smooth skin, and a face that revealed an Asian ancestor. She was skinny but well-endowed on top – work done by a good plastic surgeon – and had the well-muscled legs of someone who moved all day for a living. She was wearing a faded black leotard with red legwarmers. Her hair was pulled back and kept in place with a hair clip. Though taller than your average woman, she was still a few inches shorter than myself.

She was working her body hard. If I had installed a stripper pole, I'm sure she would have been sweating even harder. But instead, she was practicing her floor routine, the gyrations meant to keep the dollar bills coming. With the stiff competition in Vegas, the men and women who made their living at exotic dancing, Melodie made sure to stay in shape and keep her dances fresh. Even with the air conditioning running at full blast, there was a slight odor of perspiration. From the track lighting above I could see a gleam of sweat on her exposed skin.

I put the tablet down and took a sip of my drink. Lime juice mixed with gin had a wonderful way of sharpening the senses. As I drank, I saw Melodie stop. She went over to the CD player and turned off the power, sending a momentary thump through the speakers. I frowned, knowing that something serious was on her mind.

"Devon?"

"Yes?" I replied as I set my drink back down.

She took a step closer. "Is it true what people say about you?"

"What do people say?"

"That you help people in need."

"I don't think I've ever been called charitable."

"You know what I mean."

I gave her a half of a smile. "Yes, it's true that I help those who can't help themselves. Of course there has to be some profit in it." I vaguely pointed at the luxury furnishings and the expensive rug at our feet. "This sort of stuff doesn't come cheap. I am, after not, not running a charity here. But there are some rules to the game. The first, of course, is that I won't go killing for money. The second is that I won't harm the innocent, though the latter is questionable since I have never met anyone who is truly innocent."

"You're the most cynical man I've ever met," she purred.

"I prefer the word experienced. But I did not earn my money by doing anything that is unethical – within the confines of what I consider ethical, that is."

She leered at me. "That leaves a wide range of possibilities, honey." She instantly turned serious again. "Maybe you really could help a friend of mine. Her name is Cleora Kinney. She's a co-worker of mine at the Pussycat Lounge. She's only been there a few days and anyone can tell that she isn't cut out for the life. But I do know that she needs help and I can't think of anyone but you."

I scratched my chin in thought. After a few moments of this, I said, "I wasn't exactly planning to be in town for very much longer. Anyway, I'm not hurting for money right now."

"This is something interesting."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the bait.

"Last night, after our shift was done, we got to drinking and talking. After a few beers she opened up and told me everything. We're talking a lot of money here."

"A few thousand dollars? A hundred thousand?"

"Maybe it would be better if you would talk to her yourself. I would hate to tell you the wrong thing and have you turn down the job. She can explain it better than I can."

"Now you've got me interested."

She closed the space between us with a few sultry steps – all hips and doe-like eyes. It was a good performance that got my heart racing, even though I knew the act was as false as a street bought Rolex.

She said, "That's the point, honey. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"What?"

She reached over and ran a hand through my hair. "Don't worry, you'll like her. Everyone does." She then sauntered off, showing her backside to good effect. She went back to the stereo, turned the CD back on, and began to dance to the rhythm of the music.

I returned my attention to the Gimlet. I took a drink and tasted nothing. I was too busy being angry with Melodie to notice the flavor. I put the glass down and tried to return my attention to the map on the tablet. But the route I had chosen instead blurred and disappeared from my vision. Instead I busily thought of the possibilities: a changed will that left the poor girl out of a sizable estate, a drug dealing boyfriend, or some stolen merchandise that she knew about. Dancers like that were always making friends with rich men who wanted to share their wealth. What could be different with this woman?

The door buzzer went off. It was just barely audible over the thump of the music. I got up off the sofa, threw Melodie a nasty smile, and went to unlock the steel reinforced door. After that, it was a walk to the elevator that I had specially modified so that it took a code to access my two floors. As an extra precaution, the door leading to the staircase was locked with thick doors at the floor levels. With the wired alarm system I had installed myself, no one could get inside without me knowing. In case I was out of the building, I had a computer setup to send an email to my cellphone. This may all sound rather paranoid, but when you do my type of work, a little caution goes a long way.

The door to the elevator opened. I got inside, selected the ground floor, and waited impatiently as I was taken slowly down. In the entryway, I saw a young blonde waiting behind the door. The glass of this entryway was reinforced with chicken wire. The wood was thick and old, an original part of the warehouse. With a flourish, I opened the door and let her in.

"I'm Cleora," she said as she offered her hand.

"Devon Pierce," I replied. We shook. "Come right this way."

In silence, we rode up in the elevator. There I studied her. In profile she looked good. With small features, she looked more like a teenager than a woman who works the stage for a living. Her nose was straight and the color of her eyebrows matched the color of her blonde hair. She had honest to goodness freckles, blue eyes, and a page boy haircut. She was wearing a shapeless top and a black skirt that went down to the knees. Long white socks and tennis shoes added to the school girl effect. The calves had the muscled tone of a dancer. I could see why men would like her, but there was also a coldness there that would be hard to penetrate.

"Come right this way," I said as I opened the door to my apartment.

She went in and let out a gasp. It's a common enough reaction when new visitors see the wood floors, plush rugs, the paintings on the brick wall, the gleaming stereo, and the Herman Miller furniture. The entire effect was that of stylish modernity and was a far cry from the ghetto streets a few stories below us. This was my hideaway from the world and only trusted souls were allowed into the inner sanctum. Part of my annoyance with Melodie was giving access to her friend iwithout my permission. But if you can't trust your friends, than who can you trust?

"Are you a drug dealer?" Cleora asked.

Seeing the arrival of her friend, Melodie stopped the CD player. I noticed that this time she had done it correctly by using the buttons. She said, "No, and he's not part of the mob either. He's just a rich bastard."

I could see that this answer did nothing to clear up the confusion. I added, "I'm not that rich. But I do like to live comfortably. As for my income, I consider myself as a sort of an investor. This building, for example, used to be a warehouse. I provided apartments for the people of this neighborhood and in the process built a place for myself that I found comfortable. I also have other interests that meet my financial needs."

"But why this neighborhood? You could be living big in Summerlin." That was a more swank part of town.

Melodie answered, "Devon here isn't like other people. He likes to associate with conmen, junkies, and strippers. He thinks normal people are boring."

I nodded. "And their lives are rather boring without the sort of problems I find interesting. Perhaps I could help you."

Melodie said, "Cleora, why don't you tell Devon here all about your problem. I'll go shower and change." With those words, she went down the hallway and went into the bathroom. The sound of running water was immediately heard.

It was obvious that Cleora was feeling uncertain, so I went over to the bar and fixed her a drink. While I was pouring out the vodka, she sat down at the stool and waited until I was done. She gratefully accepted the screwdriver, taking a tentative sip.

She said, "I don't feel right being here. I mean what can anyone do for me?"

"I don't know anything about your situation so I can't possibly answer your question. But we could start at the beginning."

Cleora gave me a shy look, an honest to goodness inside view at the real woman underneath the veneer of the armor she must have developed in her line of work. I could see why Melodie said that this girl was not cut out for the job as an exotic dancer.

She finally said, "Okay, but this is going to sound a little crazy."

"Try me."

"My real name is Amy. Cleora is my professional name – everyone uses it except my sister. You see I was an army brat. That meant I never had a real home. Instead my family traveled from base to base. Five years ago, when I was eighteen, I got pregnant. This happened over in Henderson."

This was a suburb that southwest of Las Vegas.

"We were living in a little ranch home in a neighborhood Luckily my old man was off on his first tour in Afghanistan when I found out I was going to have a child or else there would have been hell to pay. The father of the baby was a boy named Timothy King who was an awkward kid I went to school with. There was nothing ever serious about us, instead we were just friends who liked to fool around. I don't know where he is now. I really don't care. So I had a little girl. She's named Madison. She's the only reason I came to you. I want her to go to college. I want her to have the things that I never had."

I nodded and didn't say anything. Now that she was on a roll there was no stopping her now.

"My father Bill Kinney was a captain in the Special Forces, doing some type of work for the government. It was all hush-hush, you know, top secret. We were never rich, that's for sure. But somehow when he was sent over to Afghanistan, he must have discovered some way to make money. I don't know what it was or how he got it back to the States, but that's not important. I know it had to be illegal, whatever he did. I mean they don't hand out free cash to soldiers, do they? But he was a hard man who thought he was the toughest thing on the planet. The older he got, the more he had to prove himself. A week after he returned from his final combat tour, he went out to the bar. He got into a fight with a younger man - some tough college football player. It must have been a lucky punch, because apparently my father just folded up like a house of cards when he got hit in the side of the head. He never regained consciousness. He died two days later."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She gave a shrug. "That was two years ago. I wasn't that sad at the time. And I'm not exactly grieving now."

"How did you find out about the money?"

"When Bill came back, he couldn't keep it a secret. He told my mother and my sister Kim and I that we were going to be rich soon. He also told us that we couldn't tell a soul. He made us promise."

I pursed my lips together. "Did your father tell you the source of this new found wealth?"

She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. "I thought he was making it up. Not that he was the sort of person to lie, but he came back from the war a changed man. He was a drunk.. He was abusive toward my mother. He threatened my little girl. I thought he was telling us lies about the money to keep us happy."

I was skeptical now. "What made you change your mind? I mean one day you don't believe him and the next you're suddenly sure that there is a fortune just waiting for you."

"I'm getting there. Eight months ago a man named Keith Miller came to the door. He ended up staying with us. He claimed to have known my father over in Afghanistan; that they had served together in the Green Berets. He was just out of the army and looking for a job. My mother let him stay with us until he could get back on his feet. I wish she had thrown the bum out on his ass."

The sudden venom caught me by surprise. But before I could say anything, she continued on, her jaw tight and unyielding.

"Keith said he knew my father well. He said they had spent two tours together. He had no family and nowhere to go. At first he seemed so kind. He was good with his hands and really helped around the house. After a few weeks, he even got a job as a bouncer at the club I worked at in Henderson. He isn't a big guy but he's got muscle. I've seen him fight and toss out some real tough guys. I admit that it felt good to have someone strong around. He seemed to like me and my daughter quite a lot. And with my mother sick with lung cancer, my sister and I really needed him.

"In the end I fell in love with Keith. We might as well have been married, that's how close he was to me. He seemed to be a good man. And when mother died, Kim quit job as receptionist so she could take care of her two sons from a former marriage and my daughter. It was up to Keith and I to bring in the money. Things were tight and I was glad for all the help I could get from him. But there was some strange quirk about Keith that became quite bothersome. You see he loved to talk about my father. I thought he was just waxing nostalgic about an old comrade, wanting to know Bill's habits: where he liked to visit, or where my dad hunted, or what kind of work he had done around the house. Keith also took a real keen interest in gardening and found some excuse to dig up most of the yard. I didn't pay any attention to this until the day that he left."

"It sounds like he was looking for something," I commented dryly.

She took the final sip from her glass. The ice cubes were all melted. I also noticed that the water in the bathroom was off and Melodie hadn't come out yet.

"Whatever it was, he found it," she said. "One day I awoke and Keith was gone. He only took his personal stuff and never showed up at work. This two months ago. To be honest, I wasn't all that surprised. I knew that he wasn't that good for me. But there was one strange thing that really got me shook up. In the back of that house was a patio that wasn't much larger than one of your rugs. It was made with old flagstones. One of them had been removed. Underneath was a hole that contained a scrap of canvas that was olive green. I can tell you that it didn't take too many leaps of the imagination to put the pieces together. Something, perhaps that money my father talked so much about, had been hidden there.

"I was angry as hell. I thought I would never see Keith again. I had to quit my job at Henderson and come to Vegas to get a better paying job. But just last week, after I had gotten out my shift at my new job at the Pussycat Lounge, I was driving home. I saw him outside of the Sands casino, pulling some breezy redhead out of a new Lexus with temporary tags. She looked high maintenance and much too rich for a man like him. Before I could find a parking spot, the two of them disappeared inside. I searched around the casino but didn't see them. I ended up camping in the lobby. It was an hour later when he came out with that woman. Like a fool, I ran after him, demanding all sorts of explanations. He practically ran away, dragging that bitch with him. They hopped into that car and took off. I ran to my car and started following them. Two blocks later, he dropped her off at the entrance of a ritzy condo called Eastgate. After that, I lost him in the traffic. I think he knew that I was following him."

"And you think he found the money that your father hid? Perhaps he just shacked up with a new woman."

Cleora actually blushed. "I can tell you that Keith isn't the type who can a snooty woman fall for him. He's different – uneducated and good with his hands. He's no gigolo."

I let out a small sigh of exasperation. "It's a general observation of mine that woman of all classes aren't particular when it comes to a man's background. If they like what they see, then they'll try and get him."

"You don't know Keith. He's a brute. And I'm not just saying that out of hatred. He can be tender and even sweet, but there's an anger inside of him that is downright scary. I have the scars to prove it. No woman in her right mind would be with him long. As I said, I was glad when he was gone. I also got scared that he would come after me, once there weren't any witnesses around. He can be cruel if he think he's been wronged. I'm glad that I left Henderson."

"You no longer live with your sister?"

"No, I share an apartment with one of the girls from the Pussycat. It's easier that way. I send my extra money back to my sister, who is busy taking care of my daughter, and visit them on the weekends."

"Would you like another drink?"

She shook her head. "No thanks. So will you take on my case?"

"I'm not a private detective. Let me give it some thought and I'll get back to you."

Cleora dragged a cellphone out from the heavy purse that was still slung over her shoulder. "Would you like my number?"

"That won't be necessary at this time. I'll contact you through Melodie."

After that, I walked her down to the front entrance. I waited until she got into her car – a beat up Kia – and drove away. Deep in thought, I went back to the apartment. Once the door shut, I could hear the Melodie humming some unknown song. The sound was coming from the bedroom. I went there, walking gently on the sides of my feet.

"Hey," I said through the half-open door.

"Why don't you come in?" Her voice was low and filled with desire.

I took a few steps inside. With the gauze curtains across the windows, the room was dim. I could just see the Stickley bed and matching side tables with their Tiffany lamps. Lying on top of the bed was Melodie. She wasn't wearing anything at all except for a smirk. The look suited her quite well. She was propped up on a pair of pillows, her long black and wet hair leaving a dark stain on the cotton. There was no extra fat on this specimen, only toned but shapely muscles that only accentuated her natural curves. She wasn't shy about me looking either, but we had our fling in the past so there was nothing new that Melodie could share with me.

"So what do you think of my new friend?" she asked. She said the words casually as if we were talking on a street corner.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I like her. It appears that Cleora has led a tough life. But she still managed to find her way through. That proves she's got her head on right."

"I like her too. So will you help her out?"

"I've got to think about it. There is a lot I need to know before I can even began to find out what was stolen from her."

"So do think really think that this Keith character did find something that her father buried in the backyard?"

"It seems plausible. Bill Kinney served in Afghanistan. To me that means poppies, opium, and heroin. With all the supplies being ferried back and forth, it wouldn't be that hard to smuggle some drugs into the country. You know as well as I do that it is a quick and dirty way to make some money."

Before I could react, Melodie grabbed my arm. I did not resist as he pulled me closer, guiding my hand to one of her perfectly formed breasts. That plastic surgeon really was a genius. But before my fingers touched the ruby hardness of her nipple, pulled back, easily breaking her grip.

"Damn it, Devon," she said sourly.

I rubbed my chin and stared into her dark eyes. "You know as well as I do, Melodie, that the game is over between you and I. Anyway, I thought you had a new boyfriend."

"I do," she said nastily as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Hold on, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"It's too damn late," Melodie spat out. She ran out of the bedroom and into the bathroom where she slammed the door with enough force to make the internal walls shake. She was a strong girl.

I went back to the living room. There I began to paw through some records that were tucked inside a bookcase. I found a Handel record. I went over to the Goldmund turntable, turned it on and, after turning a few knobs, had some glorious baroque music pouring elegantly out of the speakers. I stood in front of the stereo and listened intently, trying not to think of what could have happened in that bedroom. Don't get me wrong, I liked Melodie quite a bit and felt like a fool for turning her down, but I also did not want to rekindle that old flame. Before we had broken up, things had gotten complicated. I was happy to be friends with her and didn't want anything more than that – or so I told myself.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, Melodie was dressed in her street clothes: a miniskirt, a red sleeveless top, and a pair of high heels. Her damp hair was twisted into two long braids. A plastic grocery bag containing her workout clothes were in hand. She looked shyly at me, unable to meet my eyes. This was so unlike her that I felt a moment of pity.

"A fight with Angelo?" This was Melodie's boyfriend, a small-time hustler who I personally disliked. Of course I generally didn't cotton to anyone who sold cocaine.

She nodded. "It was a bad one. I was just trying to prove something to myself. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem."

"I wish things had worked out between us. If they did, I wouldn't be stuck with Angelo. He can be such a bastard sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow. "So can I. Things weren't always smooth sailing between the two of us."

She frowned, her eyes misted with tears. "Angelo is my Keith. They both take advantage of women who are in need. But I can't help myself. That's why I feel so strongly about Cleora. You have to do something for her."

"I'll have to think about it," I said. "Come on, let's get you home."

I escorted her down to her car, a new Mini Cooper. A chaste kiss on the cheek and I sent her on her way. I watched the taillights recede into the maze of traffic. I could already feel the heat of the day slowly start to give away to the chill of the desert night. It would take hours of time but it was inevitable. Around me were the sounds of civilization: people talking, the thud of a car door shutting, and the low rumble of an airplane flying overhead. But I was far away from all of that. Instead I was thinking that I needed some time and space to forget. And only then could I make a decision.

