

THE

DIEYA

CHRONICLES

Incident on Ravar

By

John Migacz

Published by John Migacz at Smashwords

The Dieya Chronicles Incident at Ravar

Copyright 2006 by John Migacz

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

www.johnmigacz.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

ISBN 978-1-4303-0344-2

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I'd like to thank Marcia Migacz, Kevin Coyle, Jim Hamlett, Bob Strother, and Christa Rice for all their help in editing this novel. I'd especially like to thank Marcia for her love and support, and Prem Rawat for the courage and inspiration.

PROLOGUE

The Baron gazed out his bedchamber window at Ravar's twin moons. Both hung full in a clear night sky with Flantra leading Monla in their eternal dance. For a moment their bright light illuminated memories of moonlit walks with fair maidens and he was young again, lost in the aroma of flowers and perfume.

A cold draft ended his reverie and he snapped shut the heavy green drapes. Clutching his robe tighter around his wattled neck, he shuffled to the beckoning fireplace to warm his hands. The winter weather gnawed at him constantly, a telltale sign of his advancing years.

Hands extended, he stared at the fire. The dancing flames on the glowing coals mesmerized him. Was life like fire? A fire that burned hottest in youth, then slowly cooled to embers, then ash? Was there anything beyond the ash?

"I would have gotten those for you in a moment, M'lord."

He blinked and inclined his head. "What was that?"

The elderly valet gestured toward the window. "The drapes, M'lord. I would have drawn those in a moment."

"That's all right, Elaz. What you're doing is more important."

The valet nodded and continued shuffling the three bronze bed-warming pans between the sheets. The Baron stared at the motion then sighed. Every year he seemed to need another pan.

"All ready for you, Your Lordship," said Elaz, placing the pans on the fireplace hearth.

The Baron reached for his sash but the thought of forgoing the robe's warmth gave him a chill. He left it on and climbed into bed. Elaz drew the heavy woolen quilt over his master and tucked it under his chin. The Baron sighed with pleasure. For a delightful moment he almost felt warm. "Thank you, Elaz."

"Will you be needing anything else, Sir?"

"No, I'm fine. Good night."

"Good night, Sir." Elaz drew the blood-red bed curtains and bent to cover any opening where drafts might enter. He blew out the candles and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The Baron felt weary to his bones and was glad that sleep came quickly.

He awoke with a shiver. It was far colder in the room than it should be. Parting the bed curtains, he peered at the fire to see if it had gone out. The glowing coals told him otherwise.

A breeze stirring the drapes caught his eye. What was this? Who had opened the window? "Is someone there?" he said, reaching up for the valet cord.

A dark figure loomed over him and grabbed his wrist in a crushing grip. The Baron barely managed a gasp before a rough hand covered his mouth. Fear surged through him and he struggled but could not loosen the hand.

"Quiet!" hissed a harsh voice.

The smell of rancid oil invaded the Baron's nostrils as a face moved closer to his. By the fire's dying embers he saw his attacker's cold eyes, bright now from the pleasure of inflicting pain. He trembled.

"I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth," the man said quietly. "Don't say a word."

Suddenly the hand was gone. The Baron inhaled deeply. "Wh-what do you want?"

A savage smile raised the corners of his attacker's mouth. "I want you to scream."

"What?"

"Scream!"

The attacker's grip tightened on the Baron's wrist and bones snapped. His scream was cut short by a hard round object forced into his mouth. Panic filled him as the thing crawled deep into his throat on spidery legs. He thrashed and clawed wildly at his attacker with his free hand, but it was like fighting a man made of stone.

"You should feel blessed to be so chosen."

The words didn't reassure the Baron. He arched in agony as red-hot needles sizzled deep into his brain. He felt the thing drilling into the bone just below his eyes. Searing waves of fire surged through his body.

With a blinding flash the pain suddenly ceased and he opened his eyes. All he saw was a wall of white, as if his eyes were no longer connected to his brain. He felt his memories disappearing, draining away one by one. His sense of self began to fade.

As consciousness slipped into oblivion, his last thought was that finally, he was warm.

CHAPTER 1

The old stone inn was quieter than usual. Only a scattered handful of men huddled over their drinks. The steady rain had kept away most of the casual drinkers and it was past time for the arrival of coach travelers. An abundance of candles failed to dispel the damp gloom that filled the room.

Padek fretted about the lack of business but worried more about the hearth. He studied the large communal fire, trying to gauge how long it would burn. Running out of dry wood was embarrassing. Only a poor innkeeper would let his fire die. He ran his sausage-sized fingers over his balding pate.

"It will burn for a while longer," said the young barmaid with a reassuring smile.

"I hope so, Molli." He hid his discomfort with a gesture toward the common room. "Go make the rounds and see if anyone needs more drink."

She smoothed her dress and tucked a loose strand of her dark hair back under her bonnet before hoisting pitchers of ale and wine.

Padek retied the apron around his wide girth and silently cursed Flantra and Monla for the extended cold spring rains. The woodshed had been leaking for weeks but no one had told him. After the sound beating he had given the kitchen boy, he knew it wouldn't happen again, but that didn't dry the wood.

He sent Molli to check on dinner and wiped down the already spotless bar. Padek felt more on edge than called for under the circumstances and had a sense there was something odd in the air tonight. He hoped it would amount to nothing.

The weighty front door crashed open and three heavily-armed men stomped in from the steady downpour.

"Wine!" bellowed the largest of the three. His snarling dark face and black eyes bespoke of cruelty and savagery.

"Tonkin!" gasped Padek. His surprise rooted him to the wooden floor.

"Be quick about it, fool!" ordered Tonkin as he and his men made for the far corner table.

Padek leapt as if stung. "Right away, Sir." He slammed three large goblets on the bar and hurriedly spilled wine across each. Grabbing the brimming cups he sped across the room, arriving before the men had settled into their seats. "Will there be anything else, good Sirs?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Just keep the wine coming," replied Tonkin.

Beads of sweat popped out on Padek's forehead and he shifted from foot to foot. "Begging your pardon, Sir, but you haven't paid your bill from the last time you were here, and..."

Tonkin glared, then leaned back in his chair, idly dropping his hand to his sword hilt.

Padek glanced down at the sword and swallowed. "...and I'll just put tonight's bill with the other."

Tonkin grunted in dismissal and pulled Transor dice from his pocket.

Padek returned to the bar and wiped it quickly, as if the effort would whisk away his fears. Molli returned from the kitchen carrying a tray of clean mugs and stopped short when she spied Tonkin. Her face lost all color.

"Yes. He's here," said Padek.

Molli stared at Tonkin and moved closer to Padek. "He frightens me like no other," she whispered.

Padek stared at the bar and scrubbed harder. "Once, at that very table, Tonkin cut off the fingers of a man who accidentally drank from his cup." He looked at Molli. "You know, being an innkeeper makes me a fine judge of men. Folks come in and I can read 'em like that." He snapped his fingers. "Some are like a crisp ale and some are like a thick honeyed mead." He stared at Tonkin. "With him, it's like being 'round a terrible vintage gone to vinegar in a rotten cask."

Padek gave himself a little shake and ventured a small smile. "Just keep his cup filled and everything will be all right."

Molli glanced at the hearth. "And if the fire dies out?"

Padek paled and glanced at the fire. Its embers flickered as though they had heard. "Let's just pray it doesn't."

"More wine!" bellowed Tonkin.

Fear flashed on Molli's face though she hurried to comply. She rapidly filled Tonkin's goblet.

When she finished, Tonkin grabbed her arm and squeezed. "Don't make me have to call you." Shoving her hard, he turned back to the dice game. She stumbled against a nearby table, splashing wine from the pitcher onto her dress.

Molli hurried back to Padek, blinking away tears and massaging her sore arm. "Padek," she pleaded, "can you fill his cup next time? Please?"

He nodded and glanced at the hearth, willing the fire to burn longer. He had wood drying near the kitchen stove and hoped it would be ready in time.

With his mind on the roast mutton, potatoes and beans, Padek scurried about the common room filling empty mugs. Only the rattle of Transor dice and Tonkin's barking laughter pierced the evening's quiet. Padek was refilling a pitcher from a large keg when the front door opened with a blast of cold air. A stranger hurried in.

"Close the door, you ass!" yelled Tonkin without looking up from his game.

The man slammed the door shut, sending water droplets flying from his cloak. Padek studied the new arrival. He was dressed entirely in black from cloak to boots to gloves. The clothing absorbed the light, as if it were the faraway bottom of a deep well. Padek could usually tell the amount of gold in a man's pouch and be correct to a silver, but this time he was stymied.

The stranger raised his head and threw back the hood of his cloak, stunning Padek for the second time that night. His first thought was that one of the rarely seen northern Arvari had graced his tavern. It took a moment to realize he was wrong. The solemn, craggy features and tall whip-cord lean body could have been those of the woodland folk; but a quick glance at the hands showed five normal fingers. Padek wondered at the man's age. The body said thirty five, the intense face said fifty. Padek looked deeper and saw a hard man with eyes turned cold by dark experience. The man in black leaned over and wrung out the ends of his long blond hair.

Molli greeted the stranger with a small curtsy. "What will it be, M'lord?"

The stranger beamed a smile that changed his countenance from hardened vagabond to grinning bard. "Why, some food, a room, a little ale and a warm fire would be most welcome, M'lady." The pleasing tones of his voice even sounded like a bard's. Padek smiled to himself as a blushing Molli escorted the man to a table near the fire.

"Be right out with your ale, and dinner's almost ready," she said, and headed toward the kitchen.

The stranger removed his cloak, spread it on a chair and warmed his hands over the dying embers. He caught Padek's eye and motioned to the fire. "Innkeeper, your fire seems in need of more wood."

"Right away, Sir." Padek wrung his hands then pushed a scullery boy toward the kitchen. "Get the driest wood you can find and be quick about it!" The boy was back in moments with an armload of damp logs. Padek carried them to the fire. "Sorry, M'lord, but the wood's a little wet and will have to dry out a bit more." He spread the logs near the fire.

The stranger looked disappointed, but nodded his acceptance.

"Wet wood!" yelled Tonkin from across the room. "Padek, you are an idiot and I should blacken your eyes."

"Sorry, Sir," Padek said with lowered head and downcast eyes.

Tonkin jerked a thumb at the stranger. "It grew cold in here when that walked in. Hey you! Get out of the way and stop blocking the heat!"

The man in black turned to face his detractor and Tonkin's eyes narrowed. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He grinned and nudged a comrade. "It looks like a half-Arvari!" He stared at the stranger. "Some Arvari diddle your mother, boy?" He laughed.

The stranger's face grew hard. "Friend, we can all share the warmth of the fire." He turned and extended his hands over the glowing coals. "But unlike you, I know who my father was."

Tonkin's face grew bright red and his clenched hands shook with rage. "Bastard?" He leaped to his feet, chair crashing to the floor behind him. "Bastard!" Spittle flew from his lips as if he had trouble saying the word. Tonkin's sword rang from its scabbard with a flash of gleaming metal.

"Tonkin!" yelled Padek. "The man's unarmed!"

With an animal bellow, Tonkin charged across the tavern, sword upraised. In a blur, the stranger stepped inside Tonkin's swing. Grabbing Tonkin's sword wrist with one hand and throat with the other, he snatched Tonkin off the ground. Tonkin hung still for an instant as if gripped by iron bands then struggled to no avail. With his free hand he tried to pry the stranger's hand from his neck.

The man in black gave Tonkin an angry shake and tightened his grip on the man's throat. "You would attack an unarmed man? Kill him for no good reason?" He emphasized each sentence with a hard shake. The stranger's face darkened in anger. "I'm tired of what the likes of you do to this world!" He squeezed harder and Tonkin's face grew bright red. A loud crack resounded in the room. Tonkin's body went limp, tongue lolling from his mouth. The sword clanked to the floor. With a quick, effortless toss, the stranger threw Tonkin's body ten feet away into the north wall where it smashed with a sickening thud and slid to the floor.

Face still etched with rage, the stranger glared at Tonkin's cronies. They cringed in their seats. He scanned the rest of the stunned patrons then turned to Padek and roared, "I will have heat!" He strode to the smoldering coals and tossed on all the wet wood. Standing in front of the fireplace, he held his hands over the logs and murmured something in an odd, sing-song tongue. Bright blue beams of light suddenly streamed from the palms of both hands, bathing the wet logs in a steaming, fiery nimbus. The cold, blue light cast demon shadows on the stranger's features. Within seconds, the logs were ablaze.

The stranger closed his palms and the beams ceased. He lowered his arms slowly, the rage melting from his face. He sat down and uttered a lone, deep sigh. "I'd like my dinner now, please."

Padek nodded, wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve and motioned Molli toward the kitchen.

The patrons chattered in low tones to each other.

"– did you see? –"

"– god's bells –"

"– that blue light –"

"Dieya! It must be Dieya the Sorcerer!" exclaimed one of Tonkin's cronies.

"Can't! Dieya be an old man by now."

"Dieya's eight feet tall and has horns."

"Don't care who he is, you seen what he done to Tonkin. I'm leaving."

"Good idea, Wills. I think this is the time for a long goodnight to the wife."

Tonkin's cronies heading for the door was the opening of the dam. The rest of the inn's patrons flooded out behind them, never taking their eyes from the man in black.

When Molli returned from the kitchen, tray laden with steaming bowls of mutton, potatoes and beans, she halted in her tracks.

There was only one customer.

Padek took the tray and cautiously approached the stranger. He placed the food on the table and glanced at Tonkin's body. He wiped his sweating forehead.

The stranger helped himself to the potatoes and beans, but ignored the mutton.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?" asked Padek.

"Yes, I'd like more ale and your best room. Sorry about your sudden loss in trade but this should cover everything." He tossed two gold sovereigns onto the table.

Padek's eyes widened and he quickly scooped up the coins. Two gold sovereigns were three months' profit.

"Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir. First room at the top of the stair is yours and I'll see to it that you're not disturbed." He glanced at Tonkin's body. "Not that anyone would," he muttered. Padek caught Molli's eye. "Fill the gentleman's mug. Then ready the master guest room."

Padek returned to the bar and opened his hand. The gold gleamed on his plump palm. Turning his back to the stranger, he cautiously bit into one. Satisfied, he dropped them into a pocket. Their clink overrode any qualms about his unusual boarder.

Molli filled the stranger's mug and he flashed a charming smile. She lowered her head to avoid his gaze. "Sir, don't be putting an enchantment on me, please."

The stranger sighed. "I don't do things like that, Molli. I'm smiling because I can see you have a kind heart. I don't see that often enough in this world."

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Well then, kind Sir, be you really Dieya the Sorcerer?"

"Some in this land call me that, yes."

"Have you been to many lands, Sir?"

"Yes." He rubbed his eyes. "More than I care to remember."

Molli curtsied, then left to ready his room.

Dieya ate his dinner slowly. When finished, he tossed a silver down on the table and picked up his cloak. He climbed the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. Pushing open the door to his room, he glanced in, palm upraised. The sparsely furnished room was unoccupied but neat and tidy. A candle burned on the bed table. He entered and closed the door, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The room was freshly dusted and the linen clean. The bed had been turned down and fresh water filled the ewer. A single gold kingscrown flower sat in a small vase on the dresser. He smiled and muttered a quiet, "Thank you, Molli."

Raising his left arm, he glanced at the jewel encrusted gold amulet attached to a leather band on the inside of his wrist. His fingers touched the jewels in a pattern that set an alarm ward on the door and window.

Lying down on the bed, he locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to the search. It had taken him weeks to narrow down the hunt to this area. By tomorrow he would know for certain. He hoped he wouldn't find what in his heart he knew he would. Shaking off the feelings of impending doom, he blew out the candle and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 2

With graceful strides and boundless energy, Adrianna climbed Warthgow Keep's well-worn stone steps two at a time, her leather armor whispering its familiar creak. She entered the sleeping chamber she shared with Balthus and strode to the open window. Drinking in the warmth of dawn's streaming rays, she inhaled deeply. The Season of Flowers always made her feel so alive – as if the waking earth awoke something in her as well. She felt invigorated and knew it wasn't just the season. It was also the excitement of this morning's departure.

She scanned the room with a practiced eye. Balthus had assured her that he had cleared the room of their belongings, but with him it never hurt to double check. On a shelf she spied his helmet, tethered by an old cobweb and covered with a layer of dust. Adrianna shook her head as a resigned, yet amused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She grabbed the helmet by one of its bull horns and made her way to the Keep's main hall.

The stone walls still held the winter's freeze and a chill flowed over her as she entered the large room. The wall hangings, once a riot of colors and scenes, had faded over the years. Now they served only to hide the patches in the stonework. A smoky fire crackling in the hearth did little to dispel the cold.

Feet propped up on a rough-hewn wooden table, Balthus leaned well back in his chair. A heavy arctoskin rug covered his large, muscular frame. One powerful hand was curled around the generous mug of Mostaries ale resting on his stomach, and the other dangled to the floor. Adrianna smiled at his unceremonious position.

Balthus was staring at the flames. Fire always fascinated him and he could watch it for hours. He claimed it rejuvenated his mental prowess. She claimed it was just cheap entertainment for the feeble-minded.

They had wintered in Warthgow Keep at the request of Baron Warthgow. Bandit raids had plagued the area the previous winter and the Baron had hired their swords and skills as a safeguard against more assaults. This winter, however, particularly harsh weather had followed a bountiful summer and bandit raids had been few.

Adrianna had enjoyed the respite but was glad to be moving on. As the quiet winter edged toward spring, Balthus' tales had begun to grow longer and taller, a sure sign that he was ready as well.

"Good morning," she said to her longtime companion. "The luses should be saddled and loaded by now. It looks like we're ready to leave."

With obvious effort, Balthus tore his gaze away from the fire and smiled at her. His smile broadened into a grin. Adrianna wore her black leather armor with the silver studding, black knee-length boots and black gloves. Her dark hair trailed down her back in a single braid. "Ah, I really love you in black," he sighed. "You'll make a fine looking widow."

"And I'll be one soon if we don't get you moving and work off your winter fat," she teased.

"Fat?" Balthus lifted the mug, pounded his rock-hard abdomen and shook his head. "You must mean what's between my ears." He set the mug on the table and stood, arctoskin rug falling to the floor. He too wore his leather armor and was ready to ride.

Balthus spread his heavily muscled arms and stretched. "Do we really have to go?" he moaned around a yawn.

"Do we really have to go?" sputtered Adrianna. "This was your idea! I don't understand you. You hate to leave a place once you arrive, then you love being on the trail once we've left..." She scooted under his upraised arms and hugged him hard. Looking up, she continued, "...and then you hate the thought of arriving."

Balthus enfolded her in his arms and smiled down into her dark eyes. "It's because I'm one with the world."

"More likely you're one with yourself and hate being distracted by the world." She gave his hair a sharp tug.

He grinned at her barb and rubbed his head. "I know, I know." He released his embrace. "But we should be getting on to Duke Lothogorn's." He buckled his sword across his back as they walked toward the door.

"His letter requesting our presence just arrived yesterday," she said. "He cannot expect us to drop everything to run to his aid."

"He most certainly will. Lotho saved my life once by deflecting a sword thrust that would have finished me. I owe him."

A sly smile crossed Adrianna's face. "The way I heard it, he got up to help during a tavern brawl and passed out on one of your attackers."

Balthus straightened. "Nonsense! We battled foes for hours, holding off all comers."

"I bet you can't even remember what that fight was about."

"Of course I do. It was about someone being most unreasonable about something or other."

"You weren't singing that night by any chance, were you?" she asked with a grin. "Anyway, it will be good to see Lotho again."

"Yes, it's been a while," mused Balthus. "It must have hurt his pride to ask for our help."

"The message said his castle was besieged. Why would anyone do that? Do you think it could be a ruse just to get us to visit?"

"Every word Lotho speaks is true; just don't believe anything he tells you."

"Is that for my safety or yours?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered as he swung open the door.

He took the bull-horned helmet from Adrianna and jammed it on his head. Light brown curls trailed out from under the edges and Adrianna made a mental note to trim his hair.

"Perhaps we should again thank Sir Warthgow for his hospitality," said Balthus.

"No need. He's still abed from last night's farewell banquet and knows we're leaving early."

"Yes, he did his share of damage to the wine cellar, didn't he?"

"And you helped," she said.

"I do what I can to be the perfect guest." He shrugged. "Besides, if we didn't drink it up, two things could happen. The wine might go bad and the steward get punished, or someone could drink too much and awake with a painful head. I have saved someone from a bad fate."

With this perfect Balthus logic, Adrianna knew the topic was closed.

Crossing the courtyard to the stable, they fell into step, their matching footfalls echoing off the stones. The sun's warm glow banished the night's chill and Adrianna linked arms with Balthus as they walked.

He acknowledged her touch with a squeeze. "Looks like the start of a beautiful day," he said.

Adrianna glanced at the morning sky and inhaled deeply. She patted his arm, content with the day and its promise.

They entered the stable and a skinny ten-year-old boy bounced down from the loft. "Sir and Lady," he said, attempting a small bow, "your luses are ready."

Balthus examined the mounts closely. They were both dark brown with tan stripes running down their flanks. He grabbed the nearest one's halter. It tried to pull back but he held it firmly. He reached into his pouch, then placed a clenched hand near the luse's mouth. Its nostrils flared as it picked up the scent of sweetroot and nuzzled his hand. Balthus opened his fist and the luse's long tongue snaked out and wrapped around the treat. He rubbed the filed nub of the creature's single horn while it crunched noisily. Balthus continued to accustom the luse to his touch by stroking its neck and flank while he made sure their packs were secure.

Adrianna stooped and checked her own mount's front toes. If a luse was going to give them problems, it would begin at the split toe. Adrianna adjusted the saddle girth and nodded to Balthus. "They look good."

The stable boy's eyes gleamed with pride, but his gaze returned to admiring the hand-and-a-half sword strapped to Balthus' back. "May I see your sword, Sir?" he asked.

"Sword? Where is that sword anyway?" Balthus said, turning around.

"Why, it's on your back, Sir."

"And that's where it will stay, boy!" bellowed Balthus.

The boy jumped. "But when I grow up, I want to be a warrior too!" he stated.

"What's your name, boy? Dorio, isn't it?"

The boy grinned, pleased that Balthus remembered his name. "Yes, Sir."

Adrianna folded her arms and watched, interested to see how Balthus handled the lad.

"Listen, Dorio," growled Balthus. "Do you know what a warrior is? A warrior is someone who has survived the fight, nothing more, nothing less. It's better to avoid all of it if you can because one day your luck has to run out."

Dorio furrowed his brows in confusion. This new information didn't make sense in his ten-year-old's understanding of the world. He changed the subject and pointed to the mounts. "Sir Warthgow said to give you the stable's best luses. I chose these," he said with pride.

"Best? I need the easiest! Traipsing all over the countryside is hard enough on my butt without having to mind a spirited luse."

Dorio's face fell.

Adrianna cleared her throat.

Balthus glanced at her, then at the boy's expression. He squatted and inspected his luse's front toes. "Good work on the toenails." He examined the inside of the luse's small floppy ear and nodded. "Yes, you did choose well." He turned to Dorio. "Luses are just as important as swords in many battles, and I can see you do an excellent job caring for them." Balthus patted the animal's flank. "Perhaps, if you worked at it, someday you could be the King's stableman. My thanks, Dorio." Balthus flipped the boy a copper.

The lad beamed as he deftly caught the coin.

They walked their luses out through the yard to the front gate and Adrianna smiled as they mounted. "Perhaps the world just lost a warrior – but gained a stableman."

Balthus just harrumphed.

CHAPTER 3

It was past dusk when Dieya sensed the node. He glided through the forest, silent as the mist created by the falling rain. A small jewel on the side of his right temple pulsed bright red. Occasionally pausing like a creature catching a drifting scent, he would close his eyes and spread his arms wide. He moved silently forward, gradually becoming aware of the dwindling sounds of the night. As the sounds of the insects and nocturnal creatures faded toward silence, he knew he was near. The rain dripping from his black cloak fell soundlessly, as if it too were fearful. A break in the forest opened onto a small meadow – a meadow even the rain seemed to shun.

A frown creased his forehead as his intense blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He slowed his pace, spread his arms and stepped forward cautiously. He jerked suddenly like a blind man sensing a cliff before him. The node couldn't be seen with the naked eye and would stay invisible until it gained power. Lowering his arms, he moved sideways. Several times he approached the meadow to gauge the node's proportions. It was oval in shape and approximately fifty feet across. He grunted. It wasn't as large or as strong as he had feared. In the daylight he knew it would look like a commonplace meadow, but all living creatures would instinctively avoid the area.

He stood in the darkness and considered his options. Then, with the assurance of a man who has just made a decision, he strode quickly away from the clearing. When the sounds of the night returned, he removed the gem from his temple and replaced it in his amulet. He glanced back toward the meadow one last time.

A dark node here on Ravar. There would be more.

He clenched his fists with foreboding.

Shaking off his anger, he fingered the jewels on his wrist amulet. A blue glow surrounded Dieya for a moment, then he vanished.

CHAPTER 4

Balthus and Adrianna eased their mounts down the sloping road that spilled from the highland evergreens to the valley below. Inhaling deeply, Balthus relished the gentle spring breeze that carried the mixed aroma of firs and newly blossoming heraldi flowers. Glad to be out of the snow, he wondered idly about the prospect of spending next winter in a warmer clime.

Balthus studied the road ahead, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that gleamed off the snow-covered peaks of the Ligour Teeth Mountains. The road was part of King Justin I's effort to unify his realm. Carved from the side of the mountain, this section was wide enough to ride four abreast. Tall rocks rose on the right with a sudden drop-off on the left.

"It's good to be back on the road," said Adrianna.

Balthus nodded. "You know why that is?"

"Yes," she answered. "Staying in one place too long causes petty details to grow in importance. On the road, our focus is usually in the moment, where life actually happens."

Balthus screwed up his face. "That's much better than the fresh air and sunshine remark I was thinking of..."

Adrianna chuckled. "Fresh air and sunshine are honey on the bread of the moment."

Balthus rode in silence for a while then shook his head. "If I ever again see that bard who was hanging around you back at the Keep, he'll run headlong into a fist of bad luck."

Adrianna smiled and patted her luse's neck as it sidestepped a rut. "You mentioned luck when you spoke to the stable boy. Do you really think your luck will run out?"

Balthus glanced at her with surprise. "Mine? Goodness no. You might think so, with all the luck that's come my way, from finding you to not being skewered by every bravo from here to the Outer Sea. But I think luck comes to those who expect it, and I always expect it." His eyes narrowed as he focused on the road ahead. "And speaking of luck, I think the morning's about to get interesting."

Adrianna stiffened in her saddle.

"I count four, maybe five," said Balthus in a quiet voice. "Been watching us for the last few minutes. They will probably make their move around the bend by the tall rocks."

"How do you want to play it?" asked Adrianna.

"Well, let's try to talk them out of it." He glanced at her and grinned. "You know how I like to reason with people."

Adrianna smiled. "Yes, and it's amazing how persuasive you are when you reason with your sword."

"I guess there are just a lot of folks out there needing some hard lessons in kindness toward their fellow man. Ah, here are our brigands now."

Four men in a ragtag assortment of armor and weapons blocked the road, swords drawn. A fifth man behind them held a leveled crossbow.

"Hold and dismount or we will be forced to cut you down!" cried the largest one in the front.

Balthus eyed their white-knuckled clenching and unclenching of weapons, the shifting from foot to foot and the licking of dry lips. He shook his head. "Humph. Not brigands, merely bandits," he said in a low voice. "Adrianna, see if there is one at our backs."

Adrianna quickly glanced behind, then shook her head.

Balthus scowled. "Not even bandits then, just amateurs." He raised his voice. "Look boys, we don't have the time to give you a lesson in manners, so how about you step aside and let us pass?" He reached up and scratched his ear.

"Down! Now!" shouted the leader. "Or Gregor will put a bolt in your eye!"

"Good idea," said Balthus and brought his hand down sharply, throwing a spike pulled from the scabbard he wore down the back of his neck. The spike caught the crossbowman in the eye and, by reflex, he pulled the trigger. The bolt plowed into the buttocks of the bandit nearest the cliff. The punctured highwayman yelped and fell to the ground, almost slipping off the edge.

The spike had no sooner hit than Balthus and Adrianna leaped from their luses with swords ringing. Adrianna attacked the bandit furthest left. The other two came for Balthus.

One bandit charged Balthus, sword extended. Balthus drove the point of his opponent's sword into the ground and stove in the bandit's head with a backhand blow. The second man lunged and Balthus shifted slightly to avoid the thrust. He brought his sword down in a mighty arc that clove the bandit from collarbone to navel. He spun toward Adrianna and found her leaning on her sword, her adversary dead at her feet.

"A few inches of steel up under the breastbone does the same job as opening a man from head to groin, you know," said Adrianna.

"Where's the fun in that?" muttered Balthus as he glanced at his handiwork. "Now for the wounded one." Balthus strolled to the groaning bandit who lay on his side, the crossbow bolt protruding from his left buttock.

"Lad, that wound's more embarrassing than painful. Tell me, what –"

Adrianna stepped past Balthus, put her boot on the bandit and shoved him over the edge. The man's screams echoed off the cliffs, then suddenly ceased.

"Hey, I was having a conversation there," said Balthus.

"No, you were just playing. And I won't let you pull the wings off flies either," said Adrianna.

"I never touch flies – disgusting things," he said, wiping the blood off his sword with the cloak of the cloven bandit. He looked up and smiled. "As I was saying though, it's a beautiful morning."

They remounted and continued down the road.

CHAPTER 5

"I don't understand," said Duke Lothogorn, peering into his cup. "Baron Yorburg will not even discuss this absurdity." Dozens of candles and a blazing fireplace failed to dispel the pall of concern blanketing the well appointed throne room. He rubbed his generous paunch, hoping to ease the roiling acid. He gulped down more wine. Since the siege began, drinking had become his favorite hobby.

The Duchess, sitting in her throne next to him, engaged in her pastime. With her head bent forward her red hair almost obscured her work. He watched the needle flash as her stubby fingers placed another stitch in her petit point. After observing for a moment Lotho decided he liked his hobby better. A green-liveried servant stood close by with a chilled pitcher of wine – the house staff also knew the Duke's fondness for his hobby.

Lotho scowled. "He rejects our offer of mediation and refuses to see our emissaries. He just sits there in that large ugly tent and waits. What is he waiting for?" His fingers curled into a fist. "He even refused to honor my request to meet in single combat!"

"For which I am very glad, my dear," replied the Duchess without glancing up from her sewing.

Lotho pounded the arm of his chair. "Why? Don't you think I can cut Yorburg apart?"

"Of course you could, Dear, but nobility killing one another?" She tsked. "It's just not done."

"As if he's not trying to do just that with his thousands of mercenaries!"

"Let's allow the King to settle this silly thing," she said. "All we have to do is wait until his regents arrive."

"That's assuming our messages got through..." he mumbled.

"Of course they got through, Dear. No one would stop a messenger to the King, now would they?"

"No, of course not," said Lotho. Times being what they were, he wondered, but he wouldn't reveal that thought to the Duchess. He hoped at least his message to Balthus had gotten through.

He swirled the dregs of wine in his cup. "You know, woman, since becoming Duke it has been nothing but one worry after the other." He sighed. "Life was so untroubled before accepting the dukedom."

"No, Dear, you still worried about everything from luse breeding to the Shallcross Tournament winner. Now you just worry about different things."

"I did not, woman. Life was easy and carefree back then." He said it with conviction although he knew she was right. But Baron Yorburg attacking him? That was the one thing he never would have worried about.

CHAPTER 6

Balthus and Adrianna walked their luses to the stream and let them drink. They wouldn't be out of the forest before nightfall and Balthus was looking for a good place to make camp. His first choice for a "good place to camp" was a lively inn, but on the road he liked to shelter well off the trail in an easily defensible position. Balthus' time spent in service to the King left him always thinking of defense, no matter how safe an area seemed. That mindset had saved him several times.

Balthus squatted and lowered his water bag into the stream. He thought about the mess they could be riding into and sighed. "I am still confused by Lotho's letter." Glancing up at Adrianna, he repeated a line from Lotho's message: "Lothogorn Castle has been besieged by Baron of Yorburg with an army of three thousand mercenaries." He rose, hung the bag on his saddle, then mounted. "Yorburg never had the coin to put three men together, let alone three thousand. First, he would have to pay a large amount to buy a backbone." He shook his head. "And his pretext of attack, that hundred-year-old boundary dispute? Something's wrong there."

"Someone had to put him up to it," agreed Adrianna. She tightened a bedroll strap that had loosened. "I hope Lotho's weathering the siege well. He never had much of a standing guard, only a few hundred men and some peasant conscripts. He has always relied on the King and good rapport with his neighbors."

"Don't worry about Lotho's defenses. He's more distrustful than I am."

Adrianna raised an eyebrow. "That's hard to believe." She mounted her luse and patted its neck. "What does he expect us to do?"

"Ride in and vanquish all his detractors, of course." Balthus grinned and flexed his large biceps. His smile faded and he shrugged. "I don't know. We'll think of something."

"And besides, what could be more fun?" mimicked Adrianna in a lowered, blustery voice.

Balthus grinned and spurred his luse forward.

They rode hard for several days and neared Castle Lothogorn as the last rays of the sun turned narrow strips of clouds into red flaming arrows.

Balthus forced aside the apprehension trying to seep into his bones. He wouldn't fret about a problem before he had all the facts. Worry only fogged judgment. He knew his reasoning needed to be uncluttered by emotion if the siege was as large as Lotho had stated.

The forest thinned as they neared the plain. "We should be seeing their outriders soon," said Balthus. "Let's get off the road and wait until dark."

"Or we could ride right down into camp and pose as another couple of mercenaries looking for work," said Adrianna.

"Naah, your pretty face would draw too much attention."

Adrianna snorted.

Balthus pursed his lips in thought for a moment. "No. This calls for stealth, cunning and a midnight reconnoiter into the enemy camp."

"Especially near the cooks' tents, I suppose," she said.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt. Besides, I still can't believe you didn't pack any of Baron Warthgow's aplin tarts."

"You don't need any aplin tarts," she laughed. "Haven't you just loved the dried beef and travel bread we've eaten for the last week?"

"Yeah, and the beans last night were fabulous. Next time we try soaking them for a while longer before cooking them. I almost broke a tooth."He fingered the sensitive area. "Ahhh, I could almost kill for a slice of pie..." His face brightened. "Maybe tonight I'll get the chance!"

They rode down the main road until Balthus spotted fresh tracks. "This looks like the turn-around point for their outriders," he said. "Let's get off the road." They followed a narrow trail into the woods to a small clearing where they dismounted.

"I'm sure you have some grand scheme to infiltrate the enemy lines," said Adrianna.

"Actually, Love, I haven't got a clue." He scratched his short beard and furrowed his brow. A moment later, a smile started on his face that soon widened into a grin.

Adrianna raised a warding hand. "I don't think I like that idea."

"You haven't heard it yet."

She shook her head. "I can tell by that look on your face that it's dangerous and foolhardy."

"Naah, you're going to love it..."

CHAPTER 7

"Give me a hand," said Adrianna. Balthus grabbed her hand and she crawled up next to him on the ledge, careful not to loosen any rocks. She thought their position was higher than needed to observe the encampment, but Balthus wanted any sound they made to go unheard.

Duke Lothogorn's castle was situated at the foot of the Freal Mountains on the Gosley Plains. The darkened plain was so flat it appeared to be a lake, and the castle an island extension of the mountains. Tonight, that "lake" sparkled with the campfires of thousands of men.

"Gods! Looks like Lotho wasn't exaggerating about the three thousand men," whispered Adrianna with a sinking feeling. She had hoped Lotho had embellished the numbers as he did everything else.

Balthus gazed down at the camp, then nodded. "Well, this doesn't change the plan and I'd better have at it." He gave Adrianna's arm a squeeze and faded into the night.

Adrianna lay on the ledge and studied the encampment. Balthus had convinced her that infiltration was a one-man job and he looked more the dirty mercenary than she did. If he ran into trouble, he would make for the path below her and they could ambush any pursuit. Not a great plan, but from her observations, nothing more should be necessary. One glance at the camp showed there were few sentries and certainly no discipline. The mercenaries sat around their campfires laughing and drinking as if on holiday. The only alert troopers were the ones guarding several wagons located near the road to Freetown. The wagons had canvas-covered hoops over the cargo areas to either protect or conceal their contents.

She was wondering how Balthus fared when she spied him approaching one of the guarded wagons with a roast fowl in each hand – make that a roast hen in one hand and half a hen in the other. The balance of that fowl was hanging out of his mouth. He gestured toward the wagons while the guards blocked his access and pushed him away. Balthus gave an exaggerated shrug and sauntered away.

She watched him go from campfire to campfire chatting with the mercenaries, slapping backs, laughing loudly and telling stories. He looked like he was campaigning for Council Elder of Freetown. Shaking her head, she wished for once he could curtail his sense of humor but knew that wouldn't be possible. In fact, it was one of the traits that drew her to him. "Possibly the only trait," she murmured as she watched him grab his crotch and hurry toward the slit trenches. He had entered the camp from that area knowing that no one paid attention to someone near the latrines, and he would leave the same way. He disappeared from sight and she climbed back down to the path to wait for him.

Whistling loudly, Balthus strolled up the path carrying a bundle. "Pssst," Adrianna whispered, as he passed a row of bushes. "Over here."

Balthus pushed his way through the brush to a small clearing under the rock overhang.

"What are you doing whistling?" she asked. "I thought we were supposed to be spies."

"It's a great cover. Who would expect someone whistling to be an enemy?"

"Someone who finds your whistling to be as annoying as I do."

"Hey, is that any way to talk to your handsome provider?" He held out the bundle that had been someone's cloak, and flourished it with a bow. "I bring gifts for M'lady."

He placed the cloak on the ground and spread it open, proudly unveiling two still-warm roasted hens, some cheese, and a bottle of wine.

"Not the best vintage, I'm sure, but I hope M'lady won't mind. And for dessert–" He pulled back a folded corner of the cloak to reveal several cherise tarts. "It's not aplin as I'd hoped, but we'll have to make do." He laughed and shook his head. "Those boys down there are a sorry lot." His smile faded and his brow furrowed. "There is something very wrong here, Adrianna. It's almost as if no one realizes they are on a siege. More like a picnic," he said, gesturing to the tarts. "They are being well paid, well fed, and really don't expect much trouble."

They settled down and began eating. "Ahhh! This is a welcome change," Balthus said around a mouthful of cheese.

"What's in the wagons?" asked Adrianna, munching on a hen's leg.

"You noticed that too, huh? In a camp as lax as that one, anything guarded is suspect. I claimed I heard they were filled with brandy and demanded a drink as was my due as Captain of the Guard."

"Quick promotion, wasn't it?"

"Well, I once carried that rank, but that's another story. They figured I'd lie to get a drink. I just let them see what they expected to see."

Adrianna nodded. "What's really in the wagons?"

Balthus frowned. "Naphtha. You could smell it – lots of it. It arrived today from the south, guarded by the only disciplined soldiers in this camp. They are building catapults and plan to fire the castle."

A touch of fear flashed over Adrianna's face before she controlled it. "How easy will it be to get into the castle?"

"Well," he tugged at his beard with his large hand, "that could be a problem. The only sentries on duty are those near the castle walls. It might be tough to get past them, but with a diversion it could be done – and I think we both know the perfect diversion." He grinned.

She gestured to herself with a hen's leg. "I suppose I create the diversion."

"Well, I brought the tarts. It's only fair."

Adrianna smiled. "Can you make me a fuse?"

"Of course." He pointed to the bottle at her feet. "Just don't drink all of that wine."

"Is it for the fuse or for you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

Face and hands blackened with soot, Adrianna crawled on her belly toward the wagons. She glanced up at the dark clouds drifting high in the night sky. Flantra had already set and Monla was only a sliver. Adrianna waited until the crescent was fully cloaked, then crawled closer through the knee-high scrub brush.

She watched the guards. They were too used to patrolling around castle walls and she spotted at least three blind spots in their measured pace. She counted the seconds, then inched forward to a closer position. On the next pass the guard walked within six feet and didn't notice her as she hugged the ground. She continued her silent count. One, two, go, hold here for one, two, three, go. She crept to the inside of the middle wagon's rear wheel.

Now the hard part began. There were too many unknowns in this piece of the plan. Balthus' failure to get a close look at the inside of the wagons worried her but she thought she could still get the job done. She was tense but not nervous, more like the hunter than the prey. With senses heightened, she felt as though she could even hear the guards' heartbeats. This kind of work always made her feel extraordinarily alive with each breath offering another incredible moment in time.

Adrianna waited, a shapeless, silent, black lump in the darkness until it was time to move. From below, she pulled down slowly on the rear of the wagon to test for noise. It gave a minor creak but not enough to draw alarm. She glided up the tailgate like a snake, then crawled inside.

The acrid odor of the naphtha assailed her nostrils and she had to breathe through her mouth. She squeezed her way between the casks and crouched low.

Balthus had made her a fuse from grass, wax, hen grease and wine. He swore it was almost smokeless and would smolder for twenty minutes before igniting with a flash at the end. Despite his assurances, Adrianna started to sweat. Eluding sentries was one thing, but fire – she hated fire. Balthus joked that it was just an excuse for her not cooking, but he was well aware of the burn scars on her back.

Taking several deep breaths, she tried to slow her racing heart. She recalled discussions shared with Balthus about how most people's reactions were based on their childhood experiences. The trick, he said, was to deal with each situation without bringing in the fears of the past. She grit her teeth, forced aside bad memories, and concentrated on her breathing.

Calmer now, she studied the contents of the wagon. Campfire light filtering in through the yellow canvas produced an eerie glow and drifting laughter made her actions surreal. She focused on her task. Each cask was about four feet tall and three feet wide. Luckily, they were stored bunghole up.

Using her dagger, she pried open a wax-sealed cork from the middle barrel then leaned to the side of the wagon. Making a small hole in the canvas with her blade, she peered out and re-synced the sentries' steps with her count. Squatting, she pulled the fuse from her pouch and laid it on the wagon floor. Taking flint and striking it on her blade, she matched her blows to the sentries' pace until a spark caught on the fuse and a flame sputtered to life. She carefully placed the flare end of the fuse by the open bunghole with trembling hands. Her rising fear and instinct told her to run far and fast, but she controlled them.

Easing out of the wagon, she checked the guards' locations and crawled back into the darkness. She had moved about twenty feet past the sentries' line of march when a guard yelled, "What was that? Did anyone hear that?"

Three other guards joined him. "What direction?"

"Over on the left. I'm sure I heard something."

Adrianna swore silently.

The Sergeant of the Guard barked, "All right, let's inspect the area. Fan out, swords drawn, skirmish intervals, straight line into the brush."

As they moved out, Adrianna almost bolted. She wondered if she should try the old "toss a rock" trick. She must not alarm anyone or a search of the wagons might ensue. She decided to sit tight.

The guards strode through the brush in a straight line. She crawled to be between them as they passed.

Suddenly, the guard on the left surprised an alarat that was night nesting. Trying to wait them out as was Adrianna, the bird lost its nerve and flew. The startled guard yelled, "There! Intruder!"

"Hold! Everyone, hold," said the Sergeant. "Donnli, you idiot, that was a just an alarat."

One of the older recruits called over, "Yeah, Sarge, but Donnli was sure it carried a crossbow." The guards broke into laughter.

"All right. Glad to see you're all awake. Now back to your posts," ordered the Sergeant.

As the guards resumed their duties, Adrianna gave silent thanks to the god of alarats and the god of luck. Some of Balthus' luck must be rubbing off, she thought, but where Balthus was concerned, it had to be the god of dumb luck.

Balthus forced himself to stop pacing the small clearing. Adrianna wasn't overdue, but he worried nonetheless. He had realized early in their relationship that he must let her find her own path and be her own person, no matter how much he longed to protect her. She deserved that much respect and more. When she returned he would make a blustery show about it being an easy job and she would see right through him. She always could.

Smiling, he remembered how they met some twelve years ago. Passing through a small village, he had stopped for dinner at a crowded, noisy inn. Adrianna was barely eighteen and working as the cook's helper. She caught his eye as soon as he walked in. He wondered why. She was not his type, but there was a strength and a self-reliance about her that made him choose a seat near her.

As she turned a spitted boar over an open fire pit in the common room, he watched her graceful moves and tried to sort out his feelings. Balthus always listened to his feelings, believing they gave him the best information, even if his mind told him otherwise.

One of the local hooligans kept annoying her with crude remarks. This soon progressed to pinches, which she slapped away while giving him withering looks that would have caused any sober man to back off. Finally, encouraged by drink and his cronies, he tried to reach up under her dress. Adrianna pushed him back onto his chair, emptied a mug of ale onto his crotch and walked to the far side of the fire pit.

"Ahh," said Balthus quietly, "this woman I like!"

It should have ended there, but the laughter of the crowd enraged the thug and he stood and drew his dagger. "I'll kill you, bitch!" he yelled and dove toward her.

Before Balthus could rise, Adrianna picked up a skewer from the fire pit and with a lunge, drove it into her attacker's chest. With a groan, he slumped to the ground, stone dead.

Surprised at how fast she moved, Balthus looked into her eyes and saw that she wasn't in shock. She knew the consequences of her act and was deciding what to do next. She didn't dwell on the killing. It was done. Move on. Balthus liked that also.

The inn had fallen silent. Unfortunately, Adrianna had killed the son of a wealthy local magistrate. The dead man's shocked friends were suddenly on their feet.

"Murderer!" they yelled.

"Hang her!"

"Kill the bitch!"

That sentiment spread like a grease fire through the rest of the crowd and Balthus found himself acting without thought. Standing, he brought his ham-sized fist down on the head of the closest of the dead man's friends, dropping him like a rag doll. He upended the table and pushed the occupants behind it to the floor. He reached a hand out to Adrianna and said, "There's nothing left now but to run for it, lass!"

She looked into his eyes for a moment, then grabbed his hand and they ran for the exit. The tavern door opened outward and Balthus slammed it with a bang. He quickly propped a bench against it to wedge it shut.

"Find a luse, girl! Can you ride?" he called, as he untied his mount at the post.

"Of course I can ride!" she said. She stopped long enough to tear a long slit in the side of her skirt before leaping aboard the only stallion in the row.

A good judge of luses, too, he thought. "Let's ride, girl! It won't be but a moment until those fools find the back door!" Adrianna was already kicking her luse into a gallop and Balthus was hard put to keep up.

They galloped down the road for several miles until Balthus yelled, "Whoa, slow down, girl! We can't just keep running. The luses need a breather." When she slowed to a trot, Balthus came abreast. "Here's where we lose any pursuit." He took the lead and reined his luse into a stream, Adrianna following. Looking left and right, he rode until he found a rocky place to leave the water. They followed the rocks until they came to a dry open field and crossed it into the forest on the other side. Balthus dismounted. "Now we lose them forever," he said. Cutting down a branch, he walked back to where the luses left the rocks and brushed out their tracks. When he returned, he hid the branch and remounted. Balthus felt her eyes on him the whole time.

"Why did you do that for me?" she asked.

Balthus shrugged. "You looked like you needed a friend."

Adrianna considered this for a moment. "My name is Adrianna," she said.

"Balthus," he said, pointing his thumb to himself.

"Friends?" she asked.

"Friends," he said. Balthus spit into his hand and extended it.

Adrianna smiled, spit into her own hand and clasped his.

They had both laughed.

The sound of someone approaching broke his reverie.

"Balthus, where are you?" whispered Adrianna.

"Here!" He rushed to her from the clearing. "What took you so long? Any problems?"

"No, I just stopped to get the cook's recipe for those cherise tarts." She grinned.

Balthus grabbed her and hugged her hard. He pushed her to arms' length, looked her up and down to make sure she was unharmed, then pulled her close again. He kissed her hard as the night sky suddenly blossomed red, followed by the ground-shaking rumble of an enormous explosion. "Wow!" he gasped, "the earth moved for me on that one." They glanced back at the camp. A bright orange fireball mushroomed skyward, leaving a large blackened area where the wagons had been.

"It looks like you can bake more than tarts," he said. "Come on. Let's get into the castle while those fools are busy blaming each other." He squeezed her once more and they ran to melt into the chaos of the camp.

Balthus and Adrianna knew Lotho's castle well. It was typical of older citadels: a square with twenty-foot high, crenellated walls; four turrets, one in each corner; and a tower extending from the central keep. Their biggest worry was the twenty-foot-wide moat surrounding the outer castle walls. The only way to enter the castle without lowering the drawbridge was over the wall.

Heading toward the rear corner of the castle, they saw sentries lining the front wall watching the fire.

At the back corner, Adrianna walked to the edge of the moat and scanned the battlements. "It appears that all the sentries are watching the fire. Good. It wouldn't do to be skewered by a friend."

"They wouldn't skewer a handsome couple like us," said Balthus as he coiled the grappling hook rope.

Balthus swung the grapple round and round his head until it flashed in a ten-foot circle. He released and the grapple went sailing over the wall.

"Now if it just catches, we'll be set." He pulled gently on the rope until the grapple caught. He tugged hard but it didn't budge.

"I'd hoped to get across without getting wet," said Adrianna, eyeing the moat.

"Ah, I have thought of that!" said Balthus. "I hold the rope at an angle, like so." He braced the rope across his shoulders. "You climb up until you are past the water level, then I lower you to the wall and you can walk right up. I'll swing over after."

She quickly hid a grin, seeing the error in his plan. "All right, I'm off."

Adrianna leaped and wrapped her hands and legs around the rope. She inched along until she was high enough to stay out of the water. Balthus gently lowered the rope until she touched the castle wall. Using her feet, Adrianna made short work of climbing to the top. She dropped soundlessly down onto the parapet and checked the area. Finding no guards, she made sure the grapple was secure and signaled to Balthus.

This should be interesting, she thought, a grin blossoming on her face.

Balthus pulled back the slack on the rope then stopped. Adrianna watched as Balthus looked from the water to the rope and back. She guessed he had just realized his error. As soon as his feet left the ground he would swing into the moat.

He shook his head and she could hear him quietly cursing. She knew he was chagrinned not only by his lack of foresight but by the knowledge that she had known of his problem from the start. Finally, Balthus jumped high on the rope and climbed rapidly, lifting his legs to keep clear of the water.

It almost worked. Balthus was frantically climbing hand over hand, legs up, when his backside skimmed through the water like waterfowl coming in for a landing. He hit the castle wall with a splash. Cursing and dripping, he climbed up and heaved himself over the side.

"Damn!" he said.

"What happened?" Adrianna asked innocently.

"I wet my pants," said Balthus.

"Oh?" said Adrianna. "I didn't know you were afraid of heights."

"Nice. Let's find Lotho, wine and–"

"Some dry pants?" she asked, grinning.

Balthus just sighed.

With a rough wool cloak thrown hastily over his nightshirt, Duke Lothogorn gathered his counselors around the main dining table. The circle of faces, still puffy from sleep, expressed doubt, worry and fear. The explosion had jolted awake the entire castle. Candles were lit to hold back the darkness and ease the uncertainty, but tension filled the air as much as the candle smoke.

The Duke slammed an empty jeweled goblet on the table. "Well?" He stared at his advisors. "Do we have any idea what that was?" The counselors avoided the Duke's glare. He scowled. "Have you anything to say or have you all gone mute?"

Caltius, the Duke's Diplomatic Counselor, found his tongue. "If... if this is some new weapon he is demonstrating, perhaps we should revisit his surrender terms." He ran a hand over his bald pate and hunched his shoulders.

"What terms, Caltius? His terms were leave or die," answered Faltast, the Duke's Steward.

Lothogorn frowned, then eyed his Master of Guards. "Sir Estagon, how are the men taking this new exigency?"

Estagon stopped stroking his black mustache long enough to wave a hand in dismissal. "As well as can be expected, Your Lordship." He raised his chin and his voice. "But have no fear. My men are ready for any encounter."

The double doors of the throne room flew open and banged into the wall. Two leather-armored warriors entered the hall, a heavily muscled man and a dangerous looking woman. The counselors leaped to their feet and Estagon half drew his sword.

Lotho's mouth dropped open in recognition and he grabbed Estagon's sword arm. "Balthus!" cried the Duke.

"Your men will desert their posts to look at pretty lights!" asserted Balthus as they neared the dais.

Lotho hurried to greet his old friend.

"Yes, Lotho. It's us. Did you think we wouldn't come to your party?"

Balthus and Lotho hugged and pounded each other's shoulders, grinning like fools.

While the two old friends exchanged greetings, Adrianna noted the deep worry lines engraved on Lotho's face. She hoped their arrival would help allay some of his fears.

"Balthus! Damn, you look good! You haven't changed a bit!"

"You have, by at least thirty stone I'd say," replied Balthus, patting the Duke's stomach. "Gods, it's good to see you!"

"Adrianna," said Lotho. He turned and gave her a hug. "How are you? So good of you to come." He released her, placed a hand on Balthus' shoulder and gave it a shake. "Thank you, my dear woman, for dragging him out of whatever wine cellar he was hibernating in."

"How are you, Lotho?" asked Adrianna, smiling warmly.

"Well, I've seen better times but I'm glad you're here! Come, let me introduce you to my counselors," he said, taking her arm and turning toward his advisors.

"Caltius, Faltast, Sir Estagon, these are Sir Balthus and his consort Adrianna, my oldest and most trustworthy friends."

"Welcome to Lothogorn Castle," said Faltast, bowing.

"Welcome indeed, although you have chosen a fell time for a visit, my Lady," said Caltius as he bowed to Adrianna.

"Just what did you mean saying my men will desert their posts?" growled Sir Estagon. His dark eyes blazed with controlled anger.

"Just what I said, Estagon," Balthus retorted. "Adrianna and I came in over the east wall and no one was there to greet us. Rather rude of them, I'd say. They were all at the front wall watching the fire show."

Adrianna studied Sir Estagon. When Balthus didn't use a man's title, it usually indicated that he saw him as an adversary. She took people at face value and tried not to pre-judge them. Balthus on the other hand, always judged first – but his instincts were usually correct.

Sir Estagon's face grew bright red and he turned to his aide. "Gaster!" he yelled. "Find the fools who were guarding the east wall tonight. I want them flogged!"

The aide turned to leave but Balthus halted him. "Hold on, Estagon. I wouldn't go disabling men just yet. I think we will need every able-bodied man we can get, very soon." Balthus looked over to Lotho.

"Yes, yes, hold your floggings, Estagon, until this crisis is over," said the Duke.

Masterful, thought Adrianna. Two sentences and Balthus has overthrown Estagon's authority. Of course, it didn't hurt to have the Duke as an old war mate.

"Besides," continued Balthus, "I would be disappointed if they weren't diverted by our little fire display. After all, that's why we created it."

Duke Lothogorn grinned. "I might have known. How you love to make an entrance! I remember that time when we were in Holstus Valley and you stripped off your clothes, then..." He glanced at Adrianna. "Ah, well, perhaps that's a story for another time." He motioned to the table. "Come, tell us what's going on outside."

Everyone settled around the table and servants scurried to fill wine cups. Balthus related what he had gleaned on his reconnoiter and described Adrianna's firing of the naphtha. At their introduction she could tell Sir Estagon's opinion of warrior women was low, but he was impressed enough to stop glowering at Balthus and bow his head to her. One point for Estagon, thought Adrianna.

Balthus didn't miss Estagon's gesture, either. "Sir Estagon, if I may ask, what is the current disposition of your troops?" he asked.

Estagon glanced at the Duke, who nodded. "We have two hundred luse, three hundred archers and infantry and two hundred peasant conscripts. More than enough to hold this castle, I believe."

"Until they receive more naphtha," muttered Faltast.

"I have written the King asking for the King's Arm," said the Duke. "I am sure he will respond."

Balthus grunted. "If you sent the message the same time you sent mine the King won't receive it for a few more days. Humm, let's see... Two weeks to gather the Arm, supplies, travel..." Balthus shook his head. "I don't think you can expect the Arm for another month at the earliest. And that's assuming the King receives your request and some minister doesn't delay its arrival." He turned to Adrianna. "Any ideas, Love?"

She thought for a moment before responding. "Well, they are pretty lax out there. We could use the Duke's knights to smash through their ring of archers and use the foot to assault the siege engines when the time comes."

Balthus put down his wine cup and stroked his beard. "Yes, but a wise person once told me, 'Why cleave a man from collarbone to groin when two inches of steel up under the breastbone will do the job?'" He grinned at Adrianna.

CHAPTER 8

Skull Leader Tolrak made his way down the winding path to the eastern sentry outpost. The arid, rocky land lent little shade and the afternoon sun burned hot on his moss-green shoulders. His callused feet kicked up an occasional dust cloud and a light breeze sent it scurrying down the path before him. Glancing up at the position of the blazing sun, he grunted in anger. He was late making his rounds and that put him in a foul mood, not that it took much to put a Morgur in a foul mood.

He increased his pace, his seven-foot, four-hundred-pound muscle-bound frame moving more swiftly than would have been expected in such a hulking creature. He glanced again at the sun, his large upward-curved fangs thrusting forward as he gnashed his teeth. Muscles rippling, he smashed the ground with his war club in irritation.

Tolrak rounded a tall outcropping and spied Hotnac and Susnac sitting in the shade of an overhanging rock, playing knucklebones. Hotnac glanced up at the approaching Skull Leader and Susnac used that opportunity to turn an "eye" bone to a "fist" bone.

"You cheat!" screamed Hotnac. He jumped on Susnac and grabbed him by the throat.

"Did not!" yelled Susnac, punching Hotnac repeatedly in the ear. They rolled on the ground punching, gouging and biting – a normal activity for the Nac brothers.

Skull Leader Tolrak watched for a moment, then smacked both brothers with his club in non-vital areas until they ceased fighting. "You fools are to watch, not play!" growled Tolrak, looking down at the brothers. "Save knuckle bones for – " A flash of black seen out of the corner of his eye made him cease his tirade and turn. Standing not fifteen feet away was a human, dressed completely in black. His left arm held the leg bone of a camar above his head – the Morgur parley symbol.

Anger flooded Tolrak. He was suspicious of anyone who could sneak up on a Morgur, distrusted anyone who knew Morgur symbols, and absolutely hated humans. Raising his war club, he fought the urge to charge and smash.

"You go! Now! We will not talk!" Hotnac and Susnac stood and flanked their Skull Leader, awaiting the command to attack.

"I will speak with Gorak," the man demanded in the language of the Mogur.

"Clan leader no speak to humans!" spat Tolrak, waving his club. "Go! Or die!" For all his bluster, Tolrak was a little unnerved by a human who faced three male Morgurs and showed no fear. His brain advised caution. Remembered tales told around clan fires seeped into his consciousness. Stories of a man in black with great power, a man to whom clan chiefs opened their ears.

The human extended his right arm, palm up. A sudden humming noise preceded the appearance of a small glowing green triangle floating in the air above his hand. He quickly closed his fist and the triangle disappeared.

"Watcher-Who-Comes!" exclaimed Susnac. The Nac brothers lowered their clubs and stepped back.

"I will speak with Gorak," repeated the man in black.

Council stories flooded Tolrak's memory and he felt a cold tickle of fear growing in his stomach. It was a rare sensation for him and one he didn't enjoy, but it decided him. "Come," he growled. Without another word, he turned and walked back up the hill to the holding. The man in black dropped the bone and followed silently.

After a short walk, they neared a large rocky hillside, pock-marked by a series of caves. The area was devoid of trees with only dry brush adorning the scattered crevices.

As Tolrak and the man in black neared the holding, Morgurs burst from their caves like insects from a hive. A crowd formed in front of the largest cave and peppered the air with curses.

Tolrak stopped in front of the cave, held up his war club and announced, "Watcher-Who-Comes will see Gorak!"

The gathered crowd repeated the human's name in hushed tones. Morgur mothers pulled their children to them and hurried to the safety of their caves. The mob melted away.

Tolrak entered the clan leaders' cave and hurried toward the gathering room. He stopped short when he realized the man in black was not behind him. Watcher-Who-Comes had paused at the entrance and was offering homage to the carved image of Gris, the spirit god of caves. Embarrassment surged through Tolrak. That this human should remember to honor the gods when he had forgotten, rankled. As he waited, anger melted some of his fear and left a seed of hatred in its place.

The man in black finished and motioned for Tolrak to proceed. Tallow candles placed in notched recesses dimly lit the long winding tunnel leading to the gathering hall. Its walls were black with two hundred years of soot, and the floor rubbed smooth by thousands of hard, callused, Morgur feet. The deep sound of the slow-beating summoning drum echoed down the tunnels.

When they arrived at the chamber, the drumming ceased. The cave elders sat by rank along a bench carved into the far wall, Gorak in the center with sub-tribe leaders Moloch and Visnac on either side. Six other cave elders, each representing their respective holdings, flanked them. The elders sat silently, fanning Tolrak's unease. He squelched his fear by channeling it into his growing hatred

Lit torches surrounded the center ring in front of Gorak and smoke drifted to the ceiling. Mindful of correct protocol, Tolrak stepped into the center of the ring. He scanned the crowd and turned to the elders. "Watcher-Who-Comes would speak to Gorak. He has shown the sacred symbol."

Tolrak stepped out of the circle and sat at the feet of Gorak. He would watch this stranger and wait – as any good hunter would do. He grunted at his own cleverness.

Gorak rose. "Watcher-Who-Comes will speak with Gorak!"

Dieya entered the ring and strode to its center. "Gorak, it is good to see you again. I see that your fangs remain sharp!"

Gorak barked what passed as a laugh among the Morgur. "And I see you forget none of our ways, despite your long absence." Gorak stepped down into the ring and placed a hand on the man in black's shoulder. "It has been a long time, Watcher-Who-Comes, since the Dark Wars. We remember your aid and will hear your words." Gorak returned to his seat.

Morgurs continued to filter into the gathering chamber from the many adjoining tunnels until the room barely contained them.

Dieya lowered his head for a moment, then raised it and spread his arms wide. His voice, unnaturally loud, carried to all in the chamber. "Watcher-Who-Comes needs the aid of the Rak tribe!"

"Point us to your enemies and we will destroy them!" yelled Gorak. The crowd howled their agreement.

Dieya continued. "The Rak know their land like the Torbu know their backsides." This drew a round of Morgur laughter. "Watcher-Who-Comes seeks something on Rak land."

"Name the cave and it is yours," barked Gorak.

"Watcher-Who-Comes seeks a place. A place the flying creatures shun. A place the camar shun. A place you cannot see, but feel. And the feeling is of evil."

Gorak nodded. "Our hunters have heard of such a place one fist of days walk from here to the North. We thought it just the frightened talk of women. Tell us, Watcher-Who-Comes, is it a danger to the tribe?"

The sorcerer hesitated as if unsure how to answer, then nodded. "It is not only a danger to the tribe, but a danger to the entire world."

Gorak leaped from his seat. "We will gather the tribes and kill this danger!"

The assembly roared agreement and pounded their war clubs on the earth. Their loud cries echoed off the cave walls.

Dieya held up his arms for silence and his voice rose above the din. "This place cannot be smashed even by the mighty clubs of the Rak tribe. This place must be destroyed by spells."

The uproar changed from wrath to whispers, driven by their atavistic fear of magic.

"Watcher-Who-Comes, what will you have us do?" asked Gorak.

"I need a brave Morgur to lead me to this place to observe it. The way the Rak watch the Torbu before they attack," said Dieya.

Gorak smiled. "Ah, Watcher-Who-Comes, you are true Rak!" He eyed the crowd and shouted, "Who will lead Watcher-Who-Comes to this place?"

Tolrak hoped no one would come to the aid of this human. It would leave the human humiliated in front of the entire tribe. He growled deep in his throat when Hotnac jumped to his feet.

"I will lead!" cried Hotnac.

Susnac, not to be outdone, shouted, "I, too, will go!"

A few younger Morgurs also volunteered.

Gorak stood and pointed with his war club. "Watcher-Who-Comes, Hotnac will lead you to this place." He gestured toward the brothers. "But take Susnac also, as he will be intolerable without Hotnac."

The Sorcerer smiled and nodded.

The Morgur tribe leader rose and opened his arms. "I – Gorak – Leader of the Rak tribe – declare this gathering over, and in honor of the return of Watcher-Who-Comes, declare tonight a Bacapik Feast night!"

The crowd whooped with glee, pounding the earth with their war clubs. Drums pounded as the Morgur began to dance, and, of course, broke into an occasional fight.

Smiling, Dieya joined Gorak and sat next to him. "I see the tribe has done well by you through the years."

"Yes, and I by the tribe," said Gorak, handing him a clay jug filled with tanga root juice. "We have had no wars since you last came, and plenty of rain and game. There have been a few encounters with the Torbu, but that has worth. It gives our young males a way to prove their value to the tribe."

The Sorcerer smiled. "I see you have learned not only to be war leader but tribe leader as well."

Gorak nodded. "It took me a while to see that cracking a head was not always the best answer, but I learned."

"Would that all leaders had such wisdom," said Dieya, taking a long drink of tanga.

Eating, dancing and boasting went on through the night, punctuated by ear-splitting Morgur "music" consisting mainly of howling to the beat of clubs on rocks or the occasional neighbor. Even though the elders accepted Watcher-Who-Comes, the younger Morgurs were leery of this human in their midst and they watched him with suspicion.

A river of tanga could not dull Tolrak's growing hatred. His need for action heightened as he observed Watcher-Who-Comes being treated as an equal among the elders. Tolrak listened as an elder told a story of Watcher-Who-Comes during the Dark Wars. He saw how the younger Morgurs glanced with growing respect toward the human. They had once looked at Tolrak that way. Now, he was lowered in stature because of this human.

He could stand these insults no longer. Pushing his way to the center of the ring, Tolrak shouted, "Silence! Silence!" As the crowd quieted down, he raised his arms for their attention. "A human has come among us to drink our tanga and eat our grob. I see no war scars on this human. I have not seen him kill a Torbu." He pointed a finger at the man in black. "I challenge this human to the Sathnee!"

The crowd stirred.

"Tolrak!" bellowed Gorak. "Watcher-Who-Comes is our guest! You dishonor us all!"

Dieya stood. "It is Tolrak's right to issue the challenge." He stared at Tolrak. "And I accept."

The hooting throng moved outward, forming a circle around the ceremonial ring. Encouraging shouts bolstered Tolrak's confidence and he played to the crowd. He knew his challenge would be fodder for many clan fire tales to come. After this night, his name would be spoken with respect.

Removing his camarskin tunic, Tolrak flexed his massive chest and arms for the crowd. They howled back and spirited wagering commenced. Dieya stood and removed his cape. As he placed it on his seat, Gorak touched his arm. "Watcher-Who-Comes," Gorak said quietly, "Tolrak could be tribe leader someday," he hesitated, "and a leader needs some pride." The Morgur leader shifted his eyes. "He is also my son."

Dieya nodded. "I will leave him as much pride as he can carry. It is up to him to see how much that will be." Dieya entered the circle and stood at the center. Tolrak strode around the ring extolling the crowd to greater exuberance by more flexing and posing. He reveled in the Sathnee and rarely lost.

Tolrak walked to the center of the ring, extended his hands and growled at Watcher-Who-Comes. The Sorcerer clasped Tolrak's upraised hands and interlocked fingers. "There is a lesson here if you can learn it," said Dieya.

Tolrak snarled, "I will crush you, human!" Watcher-Who-Comes was dwarfed by the large Morgur and wagering increased.

Gorak stood and spoke the ritual words. "The fighters, having clasped hands, agree to the Sathnee." Picking up a torch, he walked one-third of the way around the ring and waved the flame in a triangular pattern. "The first to touch a knee is loser." Moving two-thirds around the ring, he stated the second rule. "The first to be forced from the ring is loser." Moving to the third position and completing the triangle, he stated the last rule. "The first to release hands is loser. The tribe will witness the Sathnee so that all will know the place of the winner." He eyed both combatants. "Anyone starting before the signal is given will be thrown from the cave."

Tolrak, a veteran of dozens of Sathnees, chose his strategy. If his opponent was strong, he pushed him from the ring. If he was weak, he lifted and tossed him from the ring. If he wanted to humiliate his opponent, he drove him to his knees. This was his choice for the human – humiliation.

Gorak checked the combatants for the correct starting position. He raised his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. "Sathnee!" he yelled, his hand falling swiftly.

The crowd exploded with shouts, cheering their chosen champion.

Tolrak knew he had gotten the jump on his opponent when he felt no immediate pressure from the hands of Watcher-Who-Comes. He grinned as he forced the human's hands back an inch. Using his height advantage, he brought his weight to bear, but Watcher-Who-Comes moved no further. Tolrak increased the pressure. Sweat began to pour from his brow into his eyes. Still, Watcher-Who-Comes did not move. Tolrak's arms began to shake with exertion, but the human's arms were rock steady. The crowd noise surged.

Tolrak changed his attack. He pulled his arms down to push his opponent out of the ring. It was as though he pushed a mountain. Tolrak's eyes widened as he realized that Watcher-Who-Comes wasn't struggling at all; he was simply watching him.

Unable to push the man in black, Tolrak shifted for the third attack. He tried to lift his arms to hurl Watcher-Who-Comes out of the ring but as soon as Tolrak ceased his pressure, Watcher-Who-Comes applied his own, bending Tolrak's hands back. The crowd's cacophony increased. Slowly, Tolrak's hands and arms were bending backward, further...further.

His knees buckled. Looking into the eyes of Watcher-Who-Comes, Tolrak realized he was dealing with an unknown force, not a normal being. His strength was nothing against this power, but he could not give up. His knees moved closer to the ground. The crowd grew louder. He was Skull Leader. He could not let it end like this.

With a final burst of power, he struggled but still couldn't move. Watcher-Who-Comes nodded almost imperceptibly, then lessened his downward pressure. Tolrak slowly straightened his knees.

The crowd roared.

Watcher-Who-Comes changed his attack and began pushing Tolrak from the ring. The Mogur dug his clawed toes into the ground and resisted with all his strength. Claw marks appeared in the hard-packed earth as Watcher-Who-Comes slowly forced Tolrak toward the edge of the ring.

Looking into Watcher-Who-Comes' confident eyes, Tolrak realized he had been doomed from the beginning. It would have been easier to move a mountain. Inescapably, their hands still locked, Tolrak's feet slid outside the ring.

The combatants released their grips and the cheers echoing from the cave walls were deafening. Much to Tolrak's surprise, the tribe surrounded him and pounded him on the back as if he'd won.

As he stared at the retreating back of the human, understanding flooded his mind. Watcher-Who-Comes could have humiliated him if he had chosen. That he did not opened Tolrak's eyes. This could be a new way to lead warriors. It was a way to assert his strength and position yet still leave an underling some pride – pride that could become loyalty. Even though he lost the Sathnee, he felt that he had won something more valuable. Tolrak pushed away from his admirers and walked to the center of the ring. "Watcher-Who-Comes!" he bellowed. The crowd grew silent. "I have learned!"

"And what have you learned?" asked Dieya quietly.

Tolrak looked into the Sorcerer's eyes and a flicker of understanding passed between them. The Mogur grinned. "Why, I have learned not to challenge Watcher-Who-Comes to Sathnee!"

The crowd laughed and clustered around Tolrak once again, pushing jugs of tanga juice into his hands. Tolrak stared thoughtfully at Watcher-Who-Comes until the crowd pulled him away.

This signaled the end of the night's activities. The assembly drifted out of the gathering chamber to their nests. "Watcher-Who-Comes," said Gorak, "we have prepared a fine sleeping chamber suited for humans."

"Thank you, Gorak. The hospitality of the Rak is to be envied."

"Come," said Gorak, "you must rest. I will lead you to your pallet."

Gorak and Dieya walked through the crowd, a few Morgurs venturing pats on the human's back as he passed. A young Morgur, barely grown into his fighting fangs, touched Gorak's arm. "Elder, why is he called 'Watcher-Who-Comes'?"

Gorak looked down at the youth then back at the man in black, who had stopped to speak with Elder Molak. "Because, young one, he is one of those who watch, and when he is needed – he comes."

CHAPTER 9

Saladar emerged from his tent well past dawn. Stretching and yawning, he surveyed the mercenary encampment. It was alive with the bustle of three thousand men attending to their morning routines of mending armor, sharpening weapons, eating, gambling and grumbling.

Never in his wildest dreams had Saladar thought he would command such a host. He had been Baron Yorburg's Captain of the Guard for three years, but now he was General Leader of the Army, a position he felt far more in keeping with his abilities.

Yorburg Castle's Captain of the Guard had been a small, laughable position, although it had taken no small number of bribes and lies for him to obtain even that. Once established, however, he had easily intimidated the frail old Baron.

Arnell, the great-grandfather of the present Baron, had done the last king some long-forgotten service and in return had been awarded the barony. Saladar thought it couldn't have been much of a service since the Barony of Yorburg was a small rundown estate. Now though, as General of this great host, he was no longer embarrassed to be connected with Yorburg Castle.

Saladar strode through the camp, nodding to friends as he made his way to the mess tent. He stopped here and there to promote good will for himself with the chiefs of the various mercenary bands. He gave a few orders to the men and smiled to see them jump to comply. This was where he belonged.

All would be well – if it weren't for the Baron. He felt a slight shiver when he thought of the man now. What had changed the Baron overnight from a frail, old man to one that emanated power and strength?

For three years, Saladar's word had been law around Castle Yorburg. He had become the Baron's trusted advisor by filling his ears with constant lies about thwarted assassination plots, rebellions and spies.

"Sally," called a mercenary captain as Saladar passed by, "the Baron wants to see you." The captain scratched an itch under his tunic. "I hope it's about our pay."

Saladar thanked him and continued toward the mess tent. Saladar had been the real power in Yorburg Castle until three months ago when the unthinkable had happened.

Saladar had walked into the Baron's study to denounce the new serving girl. If her position was threatened, perhaps she would stop spurning his advances. He found the Baron standing behind his desk, gazing at a map of the known lands of Ravar. "Your Lordship – " began Saladar.

"Quiet, fool!" snarled Baron Yorburg.

Saladar, taken aback by the outburst, began again. "Sir, – "

With eyes as cold as a tomb, the Baron stared, his whole body shaking with barely controlled rage. "Don't bother me again until I call you," the Baron had said. "And never enter my study without knocking!" Those eyes had sent a shiver of fear down Saladar's spine.

He shook his head to dispel the memory. Since then, nothing had been the same. The Baron ignored any advice Saladar offered and set him to gathering this army of mercenaries. Saladar never understood why the Baron needed an army, or where he obtained the gold to maintain it. His attempt to talk the Baron out of attacking Duke Lothogorn's castle hadn't been well-received. The thought of the Baron's eyes changed Saladar's direction. He didn't want his lordship angry with him for being late.

The Baron's huge tent, or "Castle Ugly" as Saladar and the troops referred to it, was a huge purple and gold-piped monstrosity, appointed with Kyndian rugs and gold leaf furniture fit for a king. A single fifteen-foot pole held up the center and a dozen six-foot poles held up the sides.

"Going to see about our pay?" yelled one of the mercenaries.

"Yeah, you'll need your pay so you can lose it at dice." Saladar's laugh caught in his throat as a flicker of a plan filtered into his head. He slowed, then stopped.

Payday.

The amount of gold needed to pay these hooligans for a month would make a tidy sum – enough, he'd wager, to start over as a Baron himself. He would have to make note of the location of the Baron's strongbox...

Baron Yorburg sat motionless, his back to the tent opening as Saladar entered. "Saladar, when does the next shipment of naphtha arrive?" he asked without turning his head.

In the Baron's presence, Saladar's stomach clutched in fear. "Four days, Sir." He wondered how the Baron knew it was him.

"It's a good thing we are ahead of schedule," said the Baron.

Saladar grunted and tried to steer the conversation to the plan rolling about in his head. "Begging your pardon, Sir. Today be payday for the troops and we don't want them restless, now do we?" he said, trying to fall back into old familiar ways.

The Baron turned and stared. Those cold eyes bored into him. Saladar tried a smile. The Baron broke his gaze and gestured to a large chest on a side table. "Yes, yes, pay the men, by all means."

Saladar walked to the strongbox and lifted the lid. His eyes nearly jumped out of his head. Glittering gold! The entire chest was filled with it! Enough to live forever as a king! He scooped up a handful of coins, mesmerized by their shine.

Moving with the swiftness of an arrow, the Baron rose and slammed the lid of the chest down onto Saladar's arm, holding it there with one hand.

"Oow, Sir, I –" Saladar tried futilely to pry the lid open with his free hand. The Baron leaned toward Saladar and stared. Saladar glimpsed a flash of unnatural light deep within the Baron's eyes.

"I know even your smallest thought before it crosses your tiny brain," said the Baron, leaning closer. The odor of death and decay wafted over Saladar. "If you ever betray me, it will go hard for you." He applied more pressure to the lid. "Very hard for you." Releasing the lid suddenly, the Baron returned to his desk and leaned over a map. "Pay the men, Saladar." Without looking up he added, "I'm glad we had this little talk."

Shock rooted Saladar's feet. He rubbed his arm and stared at the Baron. Saladar felt as if he was in the presence of a corpse and couldn't shake the feeling. Quickly counting out the correct amount of gold, he placed it in a pouch. "Thank you, Sir." Saladar fled from the tent.

Even the sunshine of the beautiful spring day couldn't melt the icy lump in Saladar's belly. The Baron terrified him. And that flash of light! The light in the Baron's eyes had been an inhuman bright red. Saladar shuddered and hurried to the paymaster's tent.

CHAPTER 10

Hotnac ignored the insect buzzing near his ear and kept his eyes on the trail. The orange sun blazed hot on his back but a wisp of a breeze cooled his face. Hotnac and Susnac flanked Watcher-Who-Comes as they lay on their bellies on a bluff overlooking a scruffy trail. Possibly an old riverbed, the trail cut its way down from the cooler green highlands to the dusty, hot lowlands.

Hotnac was glad the sharp eyes of Watcher-Who-Comes had noticed the dust cloud moving down the trail in front of them. This was good ambush country, mostly stone ridges dotted with pockets of hilly forests. A bad place to be caught by an enemy – but a good place to do the catching.

They watched the slow advance of five Torbu along the path. They walked in a waddling gait, often using their arms as extra legs. They stopped periodically to straighten and sniff the air.

Hotnac studied the squat, blue-skinned creatures. Their overly long arms and immense muscles were made for digging – or clawing. They were half his size but close in strength, something he had learned from his first encounter with the Torbu. His grip tightened on the club as he glanced at the ragged scar on his arm. Gris, it was said, had a toothache the day he created Torbu. Hotnac knew this had to be true.

The closest of the Torbu straightened and studied the trail. Hotnac could see broken yellow teeth in its jutting jaw. In this bright sun, a dark nictitating membrane acted as a natural sun block and covered its red eyes. It made it look as if it were blind. He wished all Torbu blind – then they could not try to take Morgur caves.

Susnac lifted his club and whispered to Watcher-Who-Comes, "Let us descend and kill this drak that dare walk on our land."

Watcher-Who-Comes turned to Susnac. "Do not be in such a hurry when there is no need. Watch the way the Torbu move. They are moving carefully, checking everything. Why?"

"Because they are Torbu," said Hotnac, preparing to rise. Watcher-Who-Comes stopped him by placing an immovable hand on the Morgur's back.

"Hotnac, will it matter if the Torbu die now or later?"

"I guess it does not matter as long as they are dead."

Watcher-Who-Comes patted Hotnac's shoulder. "Then we will wait."

After several minutes, Dieya pointed his chin up the trail. "Now, what do you see?" A column of several dozen Torbu warriors moved down the trail. "If we had fallen on the scouts, the main tribe would have fallen on us." He looked at the two brothers. "Sometimes it is better to wait than to rush into a Torbu trap."

Hotnac nodded. He and Susnac had learned much from Watcher-Who-Comes. It had been a short journey but one filled with lessons of survival in this harsh land. Hotnac was beginning to look at his homeland with different eyes, as if seeing it for the first time.

More movement on the path interrupted his musing. A cluster of Torbu women and children brought up the rear of the column.

"They are moving the whole tribe," whispered Hotnac.

"Yes," said Watcher-Who-Comes, "and we must find out why before dealing with them."

"Why do we need to know this?" asked Hotnac.

Watcher-Who-Comes glanced at him. "Something that threatens the Torbu can also threaten the Morgur."

Hotnac nodded with understanding. "To be tribe leader, one must look far ahead."

Watcher-Who-Comes smiled. "Hotnac sees much. Perhaps he will be Skull Leader someday."

Susnac squirmed. "I too will be Skull Leader!"

"Perhaps," said Watcher-Who-Comes, "but there is much to learn. Come, let us find this thing that drives the Torbu from their homes."

They traveled the rest of the day through the arid land and stopped by a dry gulch for the night. Watcher-Who-Comes chose this site after passing up several that Hotnac had proposed.

After gathering dried scrub brush for a small fire, they shared a sparse dinner of dried camar, washing it down with tanga Hotnac carried in a skin. Staring into the fire, Hotnac's thoughts troubled him. He had learned much on this trek, but the lessons ran around in his head like griplaks chasing each others' tails.

"Watcher-Who-Comes, why is this night-holding better than the nice one with the pool we passed a while ago? Why do we camp here?"

Dieya smiled. "Hotnac, you have an inquisitive mind. That is good. Think on that last place. How many ways in and out were there?"

"Just the one opening to the cutout, but it had a small pool and nice soft grass," replied Hotnac.

"And if another band of Torbu came in the night, how would we escape?" asked Watcher-Who-Comes.

Susnac waved his club. "We would fight to the death and the clan would sing of our valor!"

"Isn't it better to kill your enemies and live to kill more on another day?" asked Watcher-Who-Comes. "And besides, if we died, the Rak clan would not know of your valor, but the Torbu clan would certainly sing of your stupidity."

"Watcher-Who-Comes," said Susnac, "it is said that you cannot be killed, so we should not worry."

Dieya laughed and lay back, wrapping his dark cape around him for sleep. Pulling his hood over his eyes, he smiled. "Perhaps I cannot be killed, but you surely can."

Hotnac exchanged glances with his brother. Susnac shrugged and lay down to sleep while Hotnac stared into the fire, thinking.

There was more to being a leader than a strong club and loud roar.

CHAPTER 11

The dim light of false dawn revealed scores of war luses tethered in the courtyard, their hard split toes wrapped with padded leather. Knights, swords silenced with strips of blankets around the scabbards, gathered in two groups. The infantry silently stood by the barracks, awaiting word to move out. Balthus insisted on absolute silence and men had worked all night to pad the chains that would lower the drawbridge.

"If this plan is to work we must have complete surprise," said Balthus for the hundredth time. He and Adrianna rode through the courtyard with the group captains. "Let's go over our parts once more." The group groaned but Balthus ignored them and addressed the knights' captain. "Justin. Your part?"

Justin didn't grimace too much. "My knights will charge the forward lines of the enemy, driving them from their entrenchment. We will not advance into the general camp and will hold for the infantry."

"Good. Arthuro?"

"My infantry will rush the entrenchment and keep the way open for the return of Sir Estagon's strike group."

"Excellent. Stanzak?"

"My archers will cover all from the walls as the men fall back."

"Sir Estagon?"

"There is no need to go over this again, Balthus," said Estagon with a sigh. "I and my men know our part."

"Perhaps I've forgotten it?" said Balthus, smiling to ease the order.

Estagon scowled, "Very well then. I and my strike force will charge directly for Baron Yorburg's tent. It was foolish of him to place it so close to the front line. He will pay the price for insulting us with this siege!"

"Remember, Estagon, we want him alive," said Balthus.

"Alive, humph!" spat Estagon. "Hanging is too good for the cur."

"Yes, but dead men don't pay reparations very well, and Lotho can use the coin."

"As you say," said Estagon, bowing. "I assume you and the Lady Adrianna will be riding with my strike group?"

"Oh yes, we wouldn't miss it. If Yorburg can be taken, his mercenaries will disappear like fog on a bright summer morning." Balthus rose in his stirrups and scanned the men one more time. "All looks in readiness. Let's go to work."

The officers nodded and returned to their men.

Balthus leaned toward Adrianna. "Well, let's see if my luck still holds."

"It is a good plan, Balthus," said Adrianna. "If this works, this war will be over today."

Balthus signaled the gate keepers. The portcullis rose and the drawbridge descended. The drawbridge thumped when it hit the ground and Balthus bit his lip.

His plan was simple. With the Baron's tent so close to the castle, a quick sortie and the capture of the Baron would put an end to this madness. Lotho also thought it was worth the try and approved the attempt. Sir Estagon, of course, had told him it was underhanded.

The knights moved out and formed up past the drawbridge. The jingle of armor and bridles made more noise than Balthus wanted, yet the enemy raised no alarm.

Estagon pointed to the Baron's tent and rose up in his saddle. "Charge, men!" he yelled. "For our honor!" He galloped off, the strike force following close behind.

"Fool!" yelled Balthus, drawing his sword and galloping hard after Estagon.

The first thing to die in battle is the plan, and it just fell over stone dead. Balthus knew they could have gotten more men out before the alarm sounded but there was nothing more to do now than ride hard and hope nothing else went wrong.

Alarm shot through the enemy camp like an arrow. The mercenaries were up, pulling on armor or stabbing at the strike force as they rode past. Balthus knocked aside a spear thrust and with the back slash, sliced into his attacker's face.

After several more small encounters, he neared the Baron's tent. He looked back to see Adrianna close behind. They would cut their way into the Baron's tent, one from each side, while Estagon entered from the front. This way they could cut off the Baron's retreat and make sure Estagon didn't do anything too stupid.

Balthus pulled up alongside the tent and leaped from his luse. Slashing a large rent down the canvas, he leaped inside. Adrianna rushed through the other side at the same moment. Balthus nodded. They were a good team, thinking and acting as one.

The Baron was alone, awake and striding toward the tent's entrance.

Estagon leaped through the front flaps and struck a pose like a heroic statue. Pointing his sword at the Baron, he said, "Vile cur, you have broken nobility's rules and I, Sir Estagon, am here to give you the abasement you deserve!"

Gods, thought Balthus, moving closer to the Baron from behind, he's giving him a speech!

The Baron halted a dozen feet from Estagon and raised his hand, palm outward. A lance of brilliant red light blazed from his open hand, burning a finger-sized hole in Estagon's chest, right through his plate armor. Estagon, a look of amazement on his face, crumpled in a heap.

Shock caused Balthus to hesitate only a split second before rushing the Baron. He brought his sword down in a mighty, whistling arc that ended at the Baron's neck. The sword clanged as if Balthus had hit a bell, numbing his arms. The Baron fell sideways, the force of the blow knocking him to one knee. A large cut appeared on his neck but no blood welled forth. He rose and turned to face Balthus. Stunned, Balthus stared at his sword as the Baron raised his arm.

"Balthus, run!" yelled Adrianna. With a quick slash, her sword shattered the tent's center pole. As the tent collapsed, Balthus snapped to awareness and fell to the floor, a blast of red light appearing where he had been standing. He rolled away from the Baron as the tent settled down on them.

"Balthus, get out!" screamed Adrianna. Balthus rolled in a different direction and ripped a hole in the tent. He escaped through the rent and Adrianna was at his side. "We've got to run for it now!" she yelled.

Balthus backed away from the thrashing thing under the tent. "Yes," he said numbly.

Adrianna grabbed Balthus by the collar. "Move!" she yelled into his ear. Balthus shook his head to clear his brain and they ran from the Baron's tent. In the confusion, no one attacked them, believing they were other mercenaries. Balthus grabbed the bridle of a fallen knight's luse and leaped into the saddle. He held out an arm and Adrianna was up behind him in an instant. Looking across the field, dawn's full light revealed that Estagon's strike force hadn't halted as planned but had ridden forward into the main encampment. The mercenaries were up in arms, pulling the knights down one by one.

"Damn," said Balthus. "Nothing to do now but save as many as we can." He spurred the luse and rode toward the castle. "Back!" he yelled. "Back to the castle! Retreat, men! Retreat!" Riding along the infantry's front line, he continued his shout.

Balthus reined in at the drawbridge and Adrianna slid off his luse. "Organize the defense of the walls in case they counter-attack."

"Leave it to me," she said, as Balthus turned his mount.

He started back, then pulled up. "– And Love? Don't let them raise the drawbridge until I get back inside, all right?"

"Count on it!" She waved her sword and ran across the drawbridge.

The hammer-and-anvil din of sword against shield lessened as Lotho's men retreated. The mercenary knights were now mounted and mustering for a charge. Balthus gauged the retreat. He needed to buy more time or the infantry would be ridden down. He rode out past the entrenchment and grabbed a shield suspended from a spear near a tent. When he was close enough to be of notice, he held up his sword and beat it on the shield, the universal signal for a challenge. "Who is the best knight among you?" he shouted. "Who is it?"

A single-duel challenge was something mercenaries respected. It was the way they established rank among them and was also very entertaining.

The mercenary archers and footmen halted their attack preparations to watch the spectacle. They would always choose watching mounted knights in action over the possibility of being killed themselves. The mercenary knights milled around arguing for several minutes.

"Good," muttered Balthus, "keep arguing... keep arguing." After a few minutes they reached an agreement and a lone rider separated from the pack.

He was huge.

His luse was eighteen hands high at the withers, but still appeared barely big enough to carry his rider. The rider stopped two hundred feet from Balthus.

"I am Oldwick!" he roared. "I am the mightiest warrior on Ravar!"

Balthus looked back over his shoulder and saw the last of the infantry running into the castle. He nodded at his massive opponent. "I just bet you are!" he yelled. Balthus tossed down his shield, wheeled his luse and galloped full speed back toward the castle. The mercenaries were stunned for a moment, then with a cry of outrage, they gave chase.

Balthus had a good lead. Looking over his shoulder, he knew that he would easily beat the mercenaries to the castle. His smile, brought on by his own cleverness, fell when he saw the drawbridge starting to rise. He urged his luse onward but knew he wouldn't make it in time. After rising three feet, the drawbridge suddenly clanked to a halt. "Thank you, Adrianna!" sighed Balthus. He jumped his luse onto the drawbridge and galloped into the castle. "Draw the bridge!" he yelled as he dismounted, but the gatemen were already pulling frantically on the chains. He dashed up the stairs to the wall and spotted Adrianna, bow in hand, preparing to direct the archers' fire.

The mercenaries' fury drove them to the moat where they hurled curses at Balthus. Adrianna readied her answer. "Fire!" she yelled. As one, the archers on the battlements released. At that range, their yard-long shafts pierced armor and saddles emptied. The mercenary's rage held them at the moat for one more volley, then they retreated from the castle. Balthus looked for Oldwick and saw him riding away unscathed. "Damn," he said to Adrianna, "I was hoping some of those shafts would find his hide. I think I made an enemy there."

"I'll put his name down on the list," laughed Adrianna.

Balthus hugged her and lifted her in the air. "Thanks for not closing the drawbridge. I must admit my blood ran cold when I saw it rising," he said, smiling.

"A few well-placed shafts on the capstan put some spine into the gate handlers," she said. "But I thought your blood would still be cold from the encounter with Yorburg."

Balthus sobered as he remembered the Baron. "Yes, let's let Lotho know what happened." They turned and left the battlements.

CHAPTER 12

Dieya knew this was the place. He could feel its malignancy. He stood at the edge of a small bowl-shaped valley. Torbu caves peppered the surrounding cliffs. This dark node was bigger than the one he'd found in the meadow – and tremendously powerful. It was losing its invisibility but had yet to become a pulsing blood-red pustule. More than just the emanations from the node filled him with dread. "No wonder the Torbu left their homes with this sitting in front of them."

Hotnac crouched and looked into the valley. "You can see a heat shimmer against the sky that shouldn't be there," he said.

Watcher-Who-Comes nodded. "Yes, this is the bad place. And it is very strong. We must be careful."

Susnac grunted. "I see nothing."

"Look," said Hotnac. "You can see a heat shimmer only over the valley, nowhere else. There is something there."

"You see because of something you do not see?" Susnac exclaimed, scratching his head.

"Yes," said Hotnac, grinning at Watcher-Who-Comes who returned his smile. Hotnac's grin faded. "I can see something that looks like a spot of hot air. How can that be dangerous?"

Dieya pursed his lips. "It is very dangerous. Soon it will be a pink haze then a thick red blob. It will draw all the evil in the area to it." He puffed out a disheartened breath. "Stay here. I must get nearer to gauge its center." He walked toward the shimmering area, arms spread. After several hundred feet he stopped and glanced at the amulet strapped to the leather band around his forearm. Dieya walked parallel to the node and once again spread his arms. Repeating the motion, he continued to circle the valley.

Hotnac and Susnac watched for awhile but soon grew bored.

"I have never seen a Torbu cave," said Susnac, gazing down.

"I'm sure a Torbu cave is a hole filled with drak," said Hotnac. "Stay away from them." He sat down under the shade of a rock and leaned back. The long walk and the hot sun had made him drowsy, and against his will, his eyes closed. He snapped awake with a start when Watcher-Who-Comes kicked his foot.

"I have finished my work," said Dieya. The worry lines on his face had grown deeper. "Let us return to the tribe. I will then use my magic to destroy this thing." He glanced around. "Where is Susnac?" he asked.

Hotnac rose and yelled, "Susnac!"

Dieya grabbed Hotnac's arm. "Let us look for him rather than alerting everyone that we are here."

Hotnac's face blossomed a darker green in shame.

As they reached the cliff edge, Susnac emerged from a Torbu cave below.

"Susnac, don't move!" yelled Dieya, urgency replacing caution. Almost in answer to his warning, Susnac took a step and slipped on the gravel outside the cave. He slid down the slope toward the valley floor.

"Susnac!" yelled his brother. Susnac's feet drove furiously, trying to climb up the slope, but it only loosened more gravel and sent him sliding further downward. On all fours, he tried running up the shale embankment only to once again slide closer to the node.

The air buzzed as if a thousand insects were loose. Susnac's hair and loincloth flowed backwards, pulled by a strong force. His fangs ground together as his feet dug into the loose ground. His eyes were wide with panic.

Dieya and Hotnac quickly climbed down to the cave opening. A force pulled them like a strong wind toward the node. Dieya's feet were slipping and he grabbed onto a rock. "Hotnac, take my hand and reach down!" Hotnac grabbed his hand and extended his war club to Susnac. Susnac stretched up for the club, his hand inches away.

"Grab it!" yelled Hotnac.

Susnac lunged but missed and slid ten feet down the loose rock. Suddenly, he was lifted up and yanked backward. He hung in the air, thrashing wildly against the energies holding him. "Hotnac!" he screamed. Susnac was sucked further into the node, his arms and legs forced backward until he was spread-eagled. He began to glow red, encased by a shimmering force.

Hotnac lunged toward his brother but Dieya held onto his hand.

Hotnac tried to pull away. "Watcher-Who-Comes, help Susnac!" he pleaded.

"It is already too late!" Dieya said, holding fast to Hotnac.

Susnac screamed a soul-wrenching cry that tore at the hearts of both man and Morgur.

Dieya pulled Hotnac backward and grabbed the war club from his hand. Hurling it like a dagger, the club split Susnac's head like a melon.

Hotnac stared in shock. Dieya spun him around and shook him hard. "That thing would eat Susnac's soul for days. It is the most horrible death you can imagine. What I did for Susnac I would beg any Morgur to do for me!"

Dieya dragged Hotnac up the slope then placed an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the ridge. "Let us go. We must tell the clan what has happened. Then I must make magic to destroy this thing."

Hotnac pulled Watcher-Who-Comes' hand away from his shoulder and straightened. He looked back to see Susnac's remains dissolving like mist blown by a wind. He turned away and stared at Watcher-Who-Comes, a hard look coming into his eyes. "Watcher-Who-Comes, can you kill this monster? Tell Hotnac true!"

Dieya returned his gaze. "Yes, Hotnac, I can kill this monster. It will take time, and I must gather my spells."

"Then Watcher-Who-Comes must fight this thing now! I will tell the tribe of Susnac's passing and of the demon in this valley. Go, Watcher-Who-Comes, and kill this thing!"

"I will accompany you to the clan caves first," said Dieya.

"No!" Hotnac clenched his fist and raised his arm. "You must kill this thing as soon as you can... For the tribe..." He looked back to the ridge. "For Susnac." He lowered his arm and his eyes. "I will be all right in the returning."

Dieya studied Hotnac's determined expression. "Yes, I will go." He stepped back a few feet from Hotnac. "Go safely, my friend." Dieya touched the amulet on his arm and with a flash of blue light, he was gone.

Hotnac looked at the empty space where Watcher-Who-Comes had been standing, then back toward the valley. For the first time in his life he was alone. He gathered his supplies and started the long walk home.

CHAPTER 13

In a dark, empty cave, Dieya suddenly appeared. The sound of dripping water echoed in the darkness as he splashed through small puddles. Dieya placed his right hand on the surface of the rough stone wall and it vanished to reveal a metal door without latch or hinge. A small red light appeared in its center and shone into his eyes. Seconds later the door slid noiselessly sideways. He entered a small room constructed of smooth metallic walls and the door clicked shut behind him. A chair and a large, half-round desk, inset with jewels similar to those on Dieya's amulet, dominated the far wall. He flopped down into the chair and sighed. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes for a moment, his hands clasped on his stomach. He felt sadness for Hotnac at the loss of his brother, but with dark nodes being constructed on Ravar he knew Susnac was only the first to die.

Straightening in his chair, he took a deep breath and pressed a series of jewels on the desk. When one of the jewels glowed with a deep fire, he lifted a similar jewel from his amulet and pressed it to his right temple.

"This is dieya four-three-nine-two," he said aloud. "This is dieya four-three-nine-two." He repeated this mantra a few more times, then his eyes went out of focus. He began to blink rapidly. After several minutes, his eyes refocused and he removed the jewel from his temple. He touched the bright jewel on the desk once more and its fire went out. Opening a drawer in his desk, he lifted out a blue slate and held it in his lap. He gazed down at its surface. "Now to find you..."

Few lights were lit in keeping with the somber tone of the throne room. Lotho and his councilors sat hunched over their wine cups, heads bowed in defeat. Balthus and Adrianna matched their mood. The shock of the encounter with Baron Yorburg had worn off but it left Balthus unusually pensive. He sat staring into his cup, forgetting to drink.

Lotho hadn't forgotten – he was drinking heavily. Adrianna touched Balthus' arm and he looked up. He forced a small smile to his lips.

Lotho signaled for more wine, then shook his head. "Estagon dead? One hundred of my best knights lost, and a Baron who is an invincible sorcerer?" He closed his eyes. "This is more than I can imagine."

"I don't know why my sword did so little damage," said Balthus. "A normal head would have danced across the floor, not stopping for breakfast. How did Yorburg resist my blade?"

A voice issued from the darkness near the back of the room. "Because the Baron of Yorburg isn't normal. In fact, he's not even human."

Drawing their swords, the assembly leaped to their feet and fear-laced questions filled the air.

A man, all dressed in black, walked into the light. The long black staff held in his left hand clicked along the stone floor. He raised his right hand, palm out, gesturing peace. He stopped in the center of the room, his eyes resting for a moment on each member of the group before he spoke. "Gentlefolk, my name is Dieya. I am here to offer my services." He bowed low.

CHAPTER 14

The blue glow from the dimensional gateway faded and Dart Pilot Larg Keed's breath caught in his throat. The panorama was stunning. The aptly named Rainbow Nebula was on his left, its curving colors bending into a pot of golden light blazing out from a dark cloud mass. The Olpine dwarf star spun on his right, throwing out yellow and green arms. The arms twisted together in a war of energy, with brilliant bolts of orange lightning raging between them.

Perched in the nose of the small Avant-class starship, Keed drank in the incredible vista sprawled before him. He smiled at his own cleverness – he thought these coordinates would afford him the best view.

The threat board blinked green and he relaxed while his sensors gathered data. Looking outward, he let the majesty of space fill him. He preferred this majestic, living canvas to staring at a painting. He never tired of the sight nor felt dwarfed by the immensity of space as did some pilots. It made him feel an integral part of the universe, as if this fantastic spectacle had been created just for him.

He imagined what this view had looked like when first seen by the Gless. He pictured stars just beginning to form, then snorted at his over-zealous imagination. The Gless weren't that old – just old enough to have watched the rim planets cool. He idly wondered what it was like to live in another dimension, and wondered if humans would one day follow the Gless into that undiscovered world. Shrugging aside the question, he settled for silently thanking the Gless for the dimgate engine that allowed him to cross instantly from any part of the galaxy to another.

The Gless didn't interact much with humans, but they had passed down technological information that forever changed the way humans lived. The gifts the Gless bestowed on the humans were certainly marvels, but he had a sneaking suspicion the Gless were just preparing humans for the Kraken war.

He forced the sacrilegious thought from his mind as an amber light on his control panel blinked green, signaling the end of the sensor scan. He blinked up his sector chart and overlaid his ship's scans, wondering where to go next. Rather than doing a sector-by-sector search for Kraken emissions, he liked to dim to the region that would afford him the best view.

"How about having the Rainbow pour through the Olpine's arms?" he said aloud and set the coordinates. Not wanting to become like some older scout pilots he'd run across, he often spoke aloud to keep in practice for furloughs. Some old-timers had been out so long they had lost the power of social communication, answering in grunts to questions about the beyond. His vocal powers needed to be kept in top form – he had been working on quite a few good lines to interest the ladies when he returned to base.

Keed didn't mind long scouting missions. Most times he preferred to be alone. That's what came from being the only child of a tinkla crystal miner. Those long years being dragged from asteroid to asteroid by a crazy father had inured him to a solitary life.

His console flashed, permitting his coordinate choice – the computer wouldn't allow his accidental transposition of a number to put his ship into the middle of a sun. He punched the dimgate button, and a momentary blue flash surrounded him – then he was there.

The Rainbow Nebula danced below him, a colorful curving walkway leading to the warring orange and green arms. He dove his ship through the red-yellow outer ring of the nebula to its far side. The colors streaming past his force field transformed as they flew by. It was like diving through an effervescent rainbow. Emerging from the ring, a black spot near a spiral arm spoiled the beautiful vista, like a fly on a beautiful painting.

He focused the scanner on the dark spot but interference from the nebula didn't allow a clear scan. He narrowed the scanner beam and raced in for a better look. The closer he got to the black irregularity, the more it resembled...

Alarm lights flashed red, and a warning sounded in his helmet. "Gods!" he shouted, reaching for the thruster controls. Sudden fear put a ten-pound ice cube in his belly and a tug at the back of his throat. He punched in the command for full evasive maneuvers and hit his thrusters. A glance at his panel told him he needed six seconds to get out of range before becoming just a bright smear in the nebula.

The next seconds were the longest of his life. "Two, three," he silently counted. His counting ceased as a bright red beam encased his ship and seeped in through his tightly closed eyes.

Three seconds later, he was in the dark. He opened his eyes but wouldn't trust his senses. He let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding and inhaled sharply. How had he survived a Kraken Mol-ray? He checked the ship's functions and saw everything in the green, with his defwarp shields holding at eighty-five percent. "Let me check the scan," he said aloud. "Maybe I was wrong about it being a Kraken Cross." He checked the scanner info – it was definitely a Kraken Cross. "All right... how come I'm not dead?"

Cruising safely beyond the beam's range, he blinked up Kraken Cross data. Their main armament was a moleculizer beam capable of destroying anything up to an Alliance battle cruiser. A scout ship like his wouldn't stand a chance. He blinked the file closed and took a breath. His whole body was buzzing from his brush with death. He was alive and exuberance filled him. Life was good. He breathed deep.

"Okay," he said, taking another breath. "Calm down."

While waiting for his defwarp shields to come back to full strength, he input the flight vector and thought-blinked a report on the Cross to HQ.

The Kraken had handed humanity some heavy losses. The Human Alliance League would never know how many undiscovered planets and populations these merciless bastards had destroyed. The deaths they did know about were staggering. His eyes narrowed and anger pushed aside the fear in his belly. He hit his thrusters.

The Kraken ship resembled a three-mile wide and three-mile long, thick black cross with beveled edges. The top leg narrowed to a point and curved up then bent down halfway toward the center of the cross. At the tip of that leg was a gleaming red crystal – the fire control center. He had heard old-timers telling tales of swarming flight groups knocking out a Cross by putting pressure on its shields and targeting computers until some lucky shot took out the fire control center. The losses in this maneuver were so high it was done only in extreme circumstances.

Randomly jinking his ship, he dove on the black monster and was once again bathed in red glow. With one eye firmly on his defwarp shield indicator he flew in for a closer look. His shields were holding as he came within range and opened fire with his lasers.

Surprise flashed through him as his lasers blew holes in the Cross's surface. "No shields!" he yelled. He armed his missile and looped to line up with the red crystal. "Come on, come on, you slow piece of crsylak!" The guidance system took a lifetime to lock on and he watched his defwarp shields fall to forty-five percent. When the lock went red, he fired his missile.

Hitting his thrusters, he raced out of range of the Kraken Mol-ray. The red glow ended as he plunged into the deep black of normal space. He glanced at his shield gauge. "Twenty-two percent left, you lucky dog! Yeee-ha!" He put his ship into a tight turn toward the Cross as a white flash of light announced the missile's impact.

"Hoo Hoo! Got you, you bastard!" His scanners showed the crystal broken open to the vacuum of space, its red inner glow darkened. "Beautiful, just beautiful!" His elation at surviving combat and knocking out a Kraken Cross made him dizzy. "Gotta calm down! Deep breaths. Deep breaths."

He drifted in space until he came down off his giant buzz. He studied the Cross for any activity and saw none. "Let's just make sure." He eased his ship into a gentle spiral down to the black cross. No red glow greeted him. He did a slower and ever narrowing circle around the Cross. Each pass left him feeling that it was just a dead mass, hanging in space. He matched its vector and stopped near the shattered crystal.

Everything was dark.

An uncontrollable grin popped out on his face. He carefully composed a message to Comfleet HQ and thought-blinked it off. A Kraken Cross, taken intact, single-handedly.

Taken by him.

"Oh, baby! This is great!" He allowed himself the fantasy of seeing promotions, medals, parades, men buying him drinks and scantly-clad females throwing him their cube cards. An incoming message asking for confirmation interrupted his fantasy. He had expected it. His elation got the better of him as he thought-blinked his reply. "Yes, I've knocked out a Kraken Cross single-handedly. Come and get it. It's in my way." He felt very smug while he waited for the next response.

A yellow light flashed. "Ah, here it comes." With a quick blink, the message glowed on the back of his eye.

"REMAIN IN PLACE. AUXILIARIES ETA THREE HOURS."

Auxiliaries? I hope some of them are women, he thought and settled back to wait.

CHAPTER 15

A knock on the war room door interrupted Captain Arslac's thoughts.

"You wanted to see me, Skipper?" asked Commlead Janelle Haridep.

The Captain looked up from his desk panel and nodded. "Yes, Commlead, please have a seat." He punched several buttons on his desk before continuing. "We will be proceeding to sector Orlion Five Alphi. It looks like we may have some use for your special skills."

She sat on the edge of the chair, her interest piqued. "Something up, Sir?"

"Yes. Read this message we've received from a long-range scout ship in that sector." He blinked twice, sending the message to her Alpha vertex.

The Captain watched her closely, looking for a reaction. She hadn't been aboard long, but it had been long enough for him to notice her stunning bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair. An attractive officer in her early thirties, the Commlead was attached to the Reliant's alien studies group.

She blinked, brought the file up in her eye and read the message. Glancing once at the captain, she reread the message. "Sir, if you are looking for my input, I'd say that a Dart Pilot in sector Orlion Five Alphi has gone space happy."

He steepled his fingers and nodded. "That was my thought until I reviewed the scanner data sent along with the message. It looks like a Kraken Cross, all right. The data scan confirmed it."

She grabbed the edge of his desk. "Sir, if this is true, this could be an incredible find!"

"I thought so myself," he said. Her contagious enthusiasm lit a smile on his face as well. "It's possible that it hasn't come on line yet, that's why it was so easy to knock out." He studied the Commlead's face. "You and your intelligence team will be the first on board." He was pleased to see her glow with excitement. "I suggest you brief your people and prepare as quickly as you can. The destroyer Warnag will be here in two hours to take over our patrol, then we will dimgate in and see for ourselves. Dismissed."

As Commlead Haridep saluted and hurried from the room, the Captain turned to concentrate on the work on his "desk." Touching the glowing button adhered to his right temple, he concentrated on the impending mission. He thought-blinked to the supply manifest and computed how long they could remain at the Cross without re-supply, then he blinked to his armament status. With the Kraken involved, it never hurt to be ready.

Gless communications technology was a step up from the paperwork of old. Text or pictures could be displayed directly to the eye's nerve centers from a small computer button implanted inside the temple. The user just had to think of what he wanted and the button picked up his Alpha waves and displayed the links that closely matched the thought directly to his retina nerves. It took some time for the vertex button to learn the user's patterns, but after a week's practice no one had any trouble retrieving data instantly on the first or second try. Most of the HAL fleet were equipped with blink technology and its infrastructure. It made communication almost instantaneous – and sometimes overwhelming.

Captain Arslac loved blink technology, but thought the Gless were rather stingy when it came to weapons. The Gless Relations Team said it was because the Gless didn't understand the concept of destruction. He thought the problem was more than communication. He believed the Gless were keeping humans on a tight leash. But he knew enough to keep these thoughts to himself. It wouldn't help his career to question the motives of the Gless as they had been raised to demigod status on many worlds.

But anyone who had ever faced the Kraken knew the need for better weapons. At present, humans were on a par with the Kraken, but every so often a more powerful advance would be seen in the Kraken armament and humans would again have to play catch up. This Kraken Cross could give them an advantage. He blinked to bring up the time. One hour thirty minutes to go.

Commlead Haridep's excitement had fanned a spark of hope in his own heart. If this were real, it could be the greatest find of the war.

CHAPTER 16

A flash of blue light announced the arrival of the HAL battle cruiser Reliant in the Rainbow Nebula sector. The Reliant resembled a blistered metallic cylinder with a fat ring jammed on one end. The ring, a technology gift from the Gless, was the dimensional gate engine. The forces required to open a dimensional gateway for a ship the size of the Reliant were unimaginable, but Gless technology had made the impossible happen.

The blue glow hadn't completely faded from the Reliant when Captain Arslac blinked on the "battle stations" icon in his eye. The crew rushed to their stations, much like the water navies of old. Gunners were still gunners, and missilemen still missilemen. Only on the Reliant, the gunners manning the gun blisters fired computer guided lasers and the big Kali guns fired twenty-four inch shells of matrix tinkla and magnetic ceramics. When fired, a small bias drive engine jumped the shell close to the speed of light. The forces unleashed when something got in the way of a shell moving that fast were considerable. The only problem was their relatively short range – the shells couldn't hold up to the stress.

Captain Arslac monitored his crew's response to the "battle stations" alert and checked the time as the last section light blinked green. He allowed himself a smile. Not a record-breaking time but well within standards. He had a good ship and a good crew. Pride filled him as he strode to his battle station.

"Captain on the bridge!" an ensign sang out as he entered.

"As you were," Captain Arslac automatically responded. With some satisfaction he noted that no one had even glanced up from their station as he entered. "Report please, Mr. Emfal."

The stone-faced Exec glanced at the captain and displayed the sector on the main screen. "Sir, it looks like an inoperable Kraken Cross. Scans show no activity and only minor power sources."

Arslac viewed the screen with a tightening in his gut. The last time he'd seen a Kraken Cross had been as a newly commissioned ensign. It had also been the bloodiest battle he'd been in to date. "Any possibility of this being a trap, Mr. Emfal?"

"Sir, the scanners show the fire control center has been destroyed. They have never tried subterfuge before." The Exec added quietly, "But there is always a first time."

The Captain grunted. "Notify HQ and ask them to have a backup ready just in case." The Exec nodded. "Have we had any more reports from the scout ship?"

"Yes sir. DartPilot Larg Keed sends his greetings and is glad we have arrived."

"I'll bet he is," said the Captain. "It has to be a little unnerving to be parked next to that monster." He adjusted the display to show the tiny scout ship floating next to the damaged fire control center. "Let's stay out of weapons range until we can be sure we've pulled its teeth. Tell that Dart pilot to get in here and report to me." He stared into space and blinked twice to activate the comm link. "Commlead Haridep, I am sending in a marine striketeam to establish a command post. Your team will follow. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir," she responded.

Captain Arslac wasn't aware that Janelle, her fourteam and all their equipment had been belted down in Shuttlecraft Two for the last half hour, awaiting a "go" signal. This was the kind of mission an alien studies team dreamed of, but she still had mixed emotions. This would be the first time humans had ever boarded a Kraken ship and she simply didn't know what to expect. The debate still raged whether the Kraken were different sentient beings from their killing robotic machines or the machines themselves were sentient. The Alliance had found various robot parts and machinery in destroyed ships, but never any DNA.

Early on, in the first recorded Human-Kraken encounter, the transport ship Venture, carrying colonists bound for Noadna IV, was intercepted by a Kraken ship and boarded by battle droids. The droids carried off some of the humans and killed the rest. The horrendous vid pics of men, women and children being lasered down or simply torn to shreds had mobilized the several hundred colonized and independently evolved human worlds into forming the Human Alliance League.

Those well-remembered images flashed in her mind and tightened her stomach. Her gloved hand bounced off her helmet's faceplate as she subconsciously tried to bite her nails.

After an eternity, the word came from the Captain. "Commlead, the marines have given it an all clear. Good luck."

She felt a slight bump as the shuttlecraft disengaged from its cradle and pulled away from the Reliant. She keyed her visor to a split screen of the shuttle pilot's view. The Avant scout's laser fire had blasted open a hole on the top of the Cross under its fire control center. The marines had widened the hole and set up a docking collar so the Commlead's team wouldn't waste time doing an EVA. As they moved closer to the Kraken Cross Janelle saw how much it dwarfed the shuttle. The giant, evil black bulk had fear butterflies ricocheting in her stomach. She unbuckled and moved toward the docking ring before the butterflies could root her to her seat.

"Welcome to first platoon's Fire Base Alpha, Ma'am," crackled the radio in her ear. "Lancelead Grey, at your service."

She peered down into the hole and saw the Lancelead standing thirty feet below her. He wore a standard marine battlesuit with full armament load. She was glad she wore the less bulky scout suit. "Any battle droids on board, Lancelead?"

"No, Ma'am. Doesn't seem to be anyone home."

Her fears of a running laser battle with battle droids lessened, and the butterflies in her stomach slowed their rapid racing.

The Lancelead pointed up to her left. "We've set up a pulley-ladder on the docking ring. Hook your suit in and I'll bring you down." She hooked up, stepped into the hole and the electronic pulley lowered her. Once past ten feet of plating, she eagerly scanned the inside of the Cross. The last of her butterflies fled before her building excitement.

A few light sticks strung up by the marines dimly lit this section of the Cross. She gazed eagerly down a long twenty-foot square hallway that marched into blackness at either end. As the marine helped her unhook from the pulley-ladder, she studied his face through the clear helmet. Lean, dark eyes, short dark hair – and incredibly young.

He saluted and continued his report. "There are anti-grav motors working at point-eight-gee so getting around should be easy. There is no atmosphere and you will have to stay suited up. We have secured this entire hallway and we cut into the floor and the walls on either side. There are identical hallways next to and below us." He pointed to his right. "We have checked most of this hallway and Fire Team Two is nearing the central core." He stared and blinked before continuing. "Fire Team Two reports a barrier shield protecting the central core. I'd advise your group to return to the shuttle until we can neutralize it."

"Not on your life, Lancelead. They are going to have to pry me off this baby." She pushed past the Lancelead but the strangeness of the interior halted her progress. The first thing that struck her was the total absence of color. Everything was an even shade of dark gray. Her eyes had difficulty making sense of the size and distance of objects. There was little equipment in the long hall. The ceiling angled downward over one bank of controls and a narrow pit contained others. The stations were all different shapes which might be appropriate if the Kraken were a robotic race. Perhaps this find would enable them to finally determine the nature of their foe.

She gradually overcame the human sense of "wrongness" caused by the spatial irregularities. The lack of color might indicate the limits of the user's sensory perception. "Design of anything reflects the being that uses it." Her instructor's words echoed in her mind. "Even the smallest detail could define the user, from buttons that need to be pushed by a finger, to doorways shaped in the form of the body that moves through them." Kraken ships had a nasty habit of self-destructing when disabled and information about them was severely limited. This view gave them more data about the Kraken than they had extracted during two hundred and fifty years of conflict.

She turned to her staff coming down the pulley-ladder and issued orders. "Ensign Geb, start getting pictures of the diagrams above each control panel. Take vidpics in all spectrums in case there is something here in ultraviolet or infrared." She turned to the Lancelead. "Have you figured out how to access the fire control center?"

He nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. There is a gravity lift."

She tapped the shoulders of two of her ensigns. "Get up there and learn what you can from the fire control center." She pointed a finger at the last member of her group. "Ensign Shik, when Geb is finished, cut away any equipment you can and load it on the shuttle."

Lancelead Grey listened to a report on his comm channel then turned to Commlead Haridep. "Ma'am, my Fire Team Two believes they can drain the shield barrier at the core and are asking permission to try. Should I tell them to hold off until one of your team looks it over?"

"No, Lancelead, tell them to proceed. They probably know more about force shields than any of my team."

The Lancelead nodded and relayed the go-ahead.

CHAPTER 17

DartPilot Keed walked down the main corridor of the Reliant fully aware that everyone he passed stopped to stare at him. Get used to it, Hero, he thought. Walking past a smiling, pretty female ensign, he fought to keep a grin from breaking out on his face. This is just the start. He could see the netlines now – "Keed the Kraken Killer." The name had a nice flow to it. His walk became a swagger.

Entering the bridge, he marched up to the Captain and gave him his smartest salute. "DartPilot Larg Keed reporting as ordered, Sir."

Captain Arslac ceased blinking into space and studied him. Keed saw the Captain's appraisal took about three seconds. He thinks I'm too young, too handsome and too cocky for the kind of fame this will bring me... – Well, he's right about the handsome part.

"At ease, son." Captain Arslac nodded and smiled. "Well, DartPilot, this is some present you've found for us. It's an incredible feat. I've read the ship's action report but I'd like to hear the tale directly from you, if you don't mind."

Keed repeated the story he had rehearsed while waiting for the Reliant to arrive. Not too offhanded, not too smug, not too daring. He wanted to be seen as a dashing hero, not a suicidal nut. As he told his story, he became aware that the entire bridge staff was listening. He felt a blush starting at his ears and hurriedly finished his tale. I'm going to have to work on my delivery, he thought.

"Amazing, DartPilot," said Captain Arslac. He reached out and patted the young man on the shoulder. "An amazing tale of luck and courage."

"Excuse me, Sir," the executive officer interrupted. "The Cross has sent out a directional signal toward the Stromley System. We are jamming it."

The captain closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "Tell Commlead Haridep to use all possible speed in her research." Turning back to Keed, he cocked his head. "Tell you what, my boy. You have the only long-range scout ship available. Have a hot meal then take your scout ship out to the next quadrant, between the Reliant and the Stromley system. Keep us informed – I hate surprises. Dismissed."

"Ah... Aye, aye, Sir." Keed was crushed. He moved zombie-like off the bridge and sat down in the first available chair. "Humph, some parade!" he mumbled. I shouldn't be so gloomy, he thought. I can do one last patrol, but no heroics this time. He felt better then remembered the Captain's remark about fresh hot food.Maybe I can use my new-found fame to get something made special. Smiling at the idea, he went to find the cook.

CHAPTER 18

The Stromley system consisted of four planets orbiting a giant red sun. The system would never amount to much in the human scheme of things. Life had never begun on any of these planets and now they were being mercilessly bombarded by the erratic solar flares from a dying sun. The fourth planet's single rotation doomed one side to eternal night. Its one small moon, locked in a geosynchronous orbit, was left in a permanent solar eclipse. It was a moon where life had never begun, but a moon where a form of intelligence did exist.

The giant ship took several hours to bring its systems online after being buried for a thousand years. Not that it mattered, time didn't exist for this ship; it only followed orders. The single signal that had awakened the sleeping giant elicited no outburst of emotion, no sleepy desire to snooze. It would sleep for another thousand years if told to.

The behemoth rose out of its dusty den using its anti-grav engines. Some of the rocks and dirt covering the massive ship streamed back to the moon as it slowly lifted from the surface, but most remained.

The ship monitored its systems for two hours before igniting its dimgate engines. It would proceed with caution using small jumps.

CHAPTER 19

Keed put his Avant scout ship through its paces. With his new-found fame he thought it might be his last time in one and he had always wanted to push the envelope. He doubted anyone would reprimand "Keed the Kraken Killer." Smiling, he wondered how to leak that title to the network-blinks without anyone knowing its origin. Maybe it wasn't necessary. Someone would think of it – or possibly something better. His mind drifted as he tried to come up with a better moniker.

His scanner detected a large object moving into the sector. Its bulk was analyzed as too large to be a ship. Nothing to be alarmed about. There were many objects drifting in space, the result of some celestial accident or an orphan from an asteroid field. This object was on the edge of the quadrant and gave him the opportunity to test the acceleration and top speed of his ship. He gunned the thrusters, keeping the engines near the red-line the entire way.

As he neared the object, the scanner changed its analysis. It reported "asteroid" then "ice mass" then "planetary body." His view screen showed a large cylindrical, rock encrusted mass moving at tremendous speed. Grinning, he rocketed his ship to catch the anomaly, pushing the engines into the red zone. He kept an eye on his acceleration, sure that he was setting some kind of record.

Alarm bells and blinking lights shocked him out of his race as his ship was scanned. It took him a second to realize that what he thought was an asteroid must be a ship. The layer of rocks and dust had just given it the illusion of a large asteroid. His shock lasted only a second as he punched his thrusters and sent a signal to the Reliant. Glancing down at his display he saw he needed ten seconds to get out of range of the Mol-ray. He knew he'd never make it. A twinge of regret for drinks never drunk and women never kissed coursed through his mind as harsh red light bathed his ship.

CHAPTER 20

"Captain, we've received a partial message from the scout ship in the Gridley quadrant."

"Partial message?" asked Captain Arslac, his stomach tightening.

"Yes, Sir. The message was received with DartPilot Keed's identification codes and the word 'large' before ending."

"Large?"

"Yes Sir, just 'large.' That was all. We haven't been able to contact him since."

Keed's face flashed in the Captain's memory. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Ensign, send all the data regarding the Kraken Cross to Headquarters, and put them on alert for possible Kraken interference. Make sure you receive an acknowledgement."

The Captain shook his head. "I hate the unknown," he muttered, cursing his overactive imagination. He blinked up Commlead Haridep's comm.

"Commlead Haridep reporting, Sir," the very feminine voice sounded in his ear.

"Commlead, pack up everything you've gotten so far and get back to the Reliant. It's possible we're about to have unwelcome visitors."

There was a moment's hesitation before the Commlead replied. "With all due respect, Sir, we can be of more use here than on the Reliant. We can beam information back as long as possible."

The Captain grudgingly saw that her logic was correct. They shouldn't leave until they identified their mysterious guest, and if it were too much to handle, it might be too late for them to run for it anyway. "Humph," he grunted. The rock and the hard spot. "All right, Commlead. Carry on. Beam your info directly to the communications room. We want this data sent to HQ immediately."

Commlead Haridep blinked to her team's comm channel. "Okay, people, we have a limited time here. Let's get all the information we can." The word "visitors" had sent a cold shiver down her spine. She had to stay active to keep from freezing up and she turned to the Lancelead. "Let's get down to the central core and see how Fire Team Two is managing on that shield barrier." He nodded and she followed him at a trot down the half-mile-long hallway, her stomach churning.

They had passed the lights strung by the marines and now their path was lit by an occasional spot of glow spray. The darkness increased her growing fears but she forced them down, concentrating on taking in any details and twice checking to be sure that her tri-vid was running.

The lack of equipment or diagrams in this section was disappointing. It was just a long corridor with no function that she could determine. The hallway ended at a blank wall glowing with a faint red light. A young Blade and a tough-looking older Strikedag squatted next to the wall near a cart full of equipment. The red luminescence from the barrier gave the Strikedag's face an evil glow as he bent over his control panel.

"How's it going, Strikedag?" asked the Lancelead.

"Fine, Sir. We should have the barrier down in an hour," he replied without looking up. "This barrier is huge. It must extend to surround the core." He patted his cart. "That's why I cobbled together this junk pile."

The Commlead tried to make sense of the tangle of taped together circuit boards and wires leading to several other pieces of equipment on the cart. "Strikedag..." she looked at his name tag, "...Tanner. Did you link a signal amplifier, blue lazstar and a graviton dampener to drain this shield?"

The Strikedag glanced up a second, grinned and made a quick adjustment on his panel.

"Clever," she said. "We never would have thought of that."

When the Strikedag looked up again the grin was gone but not the twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, Ma'am. We used something like this on Selinas Three when we broke through the rebels' shields. The only problem is you have to watch for any spikes or it will deflange the amplifier pretty quick. I'm keeping it well below red line."

"Strikedag, run that crsylak pile as hot as it can stand," said the Commlead. "If you fry the signal amplifier, my team has one with us that you can use. We might be getting visitors. Unwelcome visitors."

The Strikedag's face sobered and he nodded. "We'll max it out, Ma'am." He turned a knob on his panel.

"Lancelead, perhaps you could send the Blade to the shuttle to pick up our extra signal amplifier. It wouldn't hurt to have it on hand just in case."

Lancelead Grey nodded once to Blade Redrick and he ran up the corridor. As Commlead Haridep watched him disappear into the distance, she became aware of her loudly thumping heart and a cold lump growing in her stomach. Her gloved hand bumped into her helmet as she again subconsciously tried to bite her nails.

CHAPTER 21

"Sir, scanners indicate a large unidentified object has just dimgated into the quadrant," said the communications officer. He looked up quickly. "It's jamming our communications."

Captain Arslac blinked it up on his screen. "Red alert," he ordered. "Increase scanning power on it and see if you can get an ID. How long until it's in range?"

"At current speed it will be in Kali cannon range in ten minutes and laser range in fifteen," she answered.

The Captain watched the object on his screen. "It's not moving very fast... Navigation, plot a course toward the bogie, best angle for all weapons to bear. Let's not wait for him to take the first shot. Perhaps – "

"Sir," interrupted the information officer, "the computers have identified the object as a Class Thirty-six Kraken dreadnought."

"Class Thirty-six?" he echoed. "We haven't seen that class in two hundred years." The specter his imagination always created had been short-sighted this time.

"Send all info to HQ if you can break through the jamming. Get all the data we have on the Class Thirty-six and pipe it to the bridge officers." Raising his voice for all to hear, he said, "People, study the data on the Thirty-six. Learn its weak points and see if you can find any more." He blinked through the dreadnaught's data and grunted at the stats. A Class 36 Kraken dreadnaught was a huge, heavily armored laser and missile weapons platform. It took a lot of firepower to knock one out. Quick calculations showed the Reliant didn't have enough. He glanced at his bridge staff. Their faces told him they had come to the same conclusion.

"We have a speed and maneuverability advantage on this beast. We'll try to hit and move. We can't go toe to toe with it." He considered giving them a positive speech about the two hundred years of advanced weaponry the Reliant carried, but knew his crew was already confident in their ship and their abilities. If he distracted them with unneeded rhetoric, they might begin to wonder.

He blinked and switched to another comm frequency. "Kali weapons group leaders, keep your men sharp. Most of our computing power will go into laser defense against their missile attacks. If you think you can score a hit, take it. Don't wait for computer confirmation. This is not a time to conserve ammunition. I'm sure the taxpayers won't mind." That brought a thin smile from the bridge weapons officer.

He blinked to the bridge comm link. "You've all seen the data on the Thirty-six. I'm sure they haven't changed their attack mode. When in range, they will launch a massive missile assault followed immediately with a smaller salvo probe, then another massive missile launch. Following the last salvo, the Kraken will close to laser range and try to finish the job. Any suggestions?"

"Sir," the weapons officer offered, "how about using the Kraken Cross as cover for their missile attacks. We could pop up and shoot, keeping the Cross between us and them."

"Good idea, Jake, but if we stay in one place it will allow them to get into laser range and they'll stomp us flat. Besides, we're still getting plenty of data from our people on the Cross. If it weren't for that, we would take a couple of long range pot shots and skedaddle 'til the fleet arrives. Any other suggestions?" A few more ideas followed about improving computer tracking and fire control, but they all knew what kind of a fight they were in for. "All right people, let's go to work."

With a burst of hot plasma, the Reliant accelerated to intercept. The Kraken dreadnought did not alter its course. "Navigation, prepare to come about, course Z-nine-zero, on my mark," said the Captain with a voice steadier than he felt.

"Aye, aye, Captain!"

"All Kali guns, fire on my mark."

He watched the range close and was oblivious to the absolute silence on the bridge. For most of his crew, this would be their first major engagement with a Kraken. Tension on the bridge increased. The very air felt heavy. Finally, the stress snapped with one word.

"Mark!" shouted the captain and watched the stars shift on the main screen. His feet felt the tremor of the Kali guns through the ship's deck as the broadside commenced.

"Fire missiles!" ordered Captain Arslac.

Waves of incredible energies washed over the Kraken dreadnought as it plunged ahead on its course. With its shields badly stressed, shells slammed into the surface. Spots of molten metal blossomed on the hull but its huge size simply absorbed the damage. The Kraken rolled over to bring its missile tubes to bear. Its skin rippled as ports opened and scores of missiles spouted from the side of the ship.

"Full speed astern!" yelled the Captain as he watched the streaks of light closing on his ship. Hopefully he could widen the distance, allowing his defensive lasers to do their job. Distant stars were the backdrop as the Reliant's lasers found their targets and bright-white, silent explosions blanketed the black sky. Captain Arslac watched the computer screen and tried to will more of the streaks to explode. Too many missiles were getting through the laser screen. He knew they were going to take hits – how bad it would be he couldn't yet determine.

The shuttle beamed views of the engagement to Commlead Haridep at the center of the Kraken Cross. As the two ships closed, her throat tightened. "How are we doing, Strikedag?" she said.

He glanced up. "Almost down, Ma'am." The faint glow around the wall suddenly winked out as the shield collapsed.

She walked to the bare wall and placed her hands on it, pushing gently, then harder. "Get me inside!" she exclaimed, her fear and the raging battle outside forgotten as her excitement rose.

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"I'll help you cut, Dagger," said the Lancelead. The Strikedag pointed to where the Lancelead should start, then fired up his own laser.

CHAPTER 22

"Incoming!" yelled someone unnecessarily. The Reliant rocked from the force of the strikes. The crew stumbled as the grav-pods failed to maintain stability.

"Defwarp shield breach in section nine!" shouted the engineering officer.

"Divert power from sections not being targeted," barked Captain Arslac and tightened the seatbelt on his command chair. Hammer blows shook the Reliant as the last of the behemoth's missiles found gaps in the defwarp shield system and smashed into the Reliant's hull.

As suddenly as it began, the bombardment ceased.

"Damage control, how bad is it?"

"Sir, we have a hull breach on aft section tango six. It's minor and repairs are underway. The worst damage is to the dimgate engines. We took three hits after the defwarp shields went down and it looks bad. I don't think we'll be able to form a jump gate."

The captain checked the computer. The Kraken had not fired the next salvo nor had they tried closing to laser range. Could we have gotten off that easily?

"Nav, what is the heading of the dreadnaught?"

"Speed and heading unchanged, Sir. Still heading for the Cross."

"Follow it. We'll give it several more broadsides."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

What was so important on that Cross that would make a Kraken dreadnought change its mode of operation? He tried to blink up Commlead Haridep, but couldn't. "Comm, can you get Commlead Haridep on a tightbeam for me?"

"No, Sir. All communication is being jammed. I can't raise anyone."

"Damn!" He pounded the arm of his command chair. "Then put us on an intercept course to the Cross. Let's see if we can remove our people before the dreadnought arrives. Give us a best possible course that will keep us out of its missile range."

"Computed, Captain. But we won't beat it even if we pass right by it. It's got too big a lead."

"Set a course outside of their laser range but within Kali cannon range," he ordered. "We'll give them another broadside to think about."

The behemoth Kraken ship sent scanner and communication probes at the Cross. Its course and speed remained unchanged, slowing only as it came into laser range. It took note of the small shuttle maneuvering behind the Cross, then dismissed it as inconsequential.

The dreadnought came to a complete stop above the Cross. It was easily four times as long as the Cross, and half again as wide. A thick, red ray beamed from the bottom of the dreadnought. Starting at the fire control crystal, the beam moved slowly down the length of the Cross.

A hum sounded in Commlead Haridep's ears and she saw a beam moving like a curtain of red far down the corridor. "Hurry!" she yelled at the marines cutting the doorway. It probably wouldn't help to go inside, but any action was better than being trapped in a dead end and watching that approaching red curtain.

The Strikedag kicked the man-sized panel and it fell in. Glancing back at the red beam, Commlead Haridep yelled, "Inside! They might not scan the core!" The three of them scurried inward.

They backed away from the opening and watched the deadly red beam march down the hall. In the distance Blade Redrick ran ahead of the moving wall of red, carrying the signal amplifier.

"Blade, drop the amplifier and run!" yelled the Strikedag on the squad frequency. The blade dropped the signal amplifier, glanced behind and started sprinting. He was one hundred yards out and the Commlead saw he wasn't going to make it.

The Strikedag yelled into his comm. "Don't look back son, just run! You're going to make it. You've got it beat!" He cut the Blade out of the link. "Poor bastard," he muttered.

They watched the curtain catch, then flow through the Blade. The face in the helmet disappeared and his spacesuit took one final step before falling to the ground empty.

"Organic beam," muttered the Strikedag. "Cleaning out the vermin, the whoresons."

A wordless fear paralyzed the Commlead as she watched the curtain draw nearer. The three humans huddled together and moved back from the opening, trying to gain strength from each others' presence. The malevolent red wall drew closer until it filled the panel opening, then disappeared.

They stood in silence, then Lancelead Grey raised his fists into the air. "It went over us! We're OK!" he shouted. Strikedag Tanner collapsed to one knee and let out a ragged whoop.

Relief flooded Commlead Haridep. She staggered a bit before bending forward, holding her stomach from a sudden onslaught of nausea. Her suit hissed a chemical spray into her helmet and her queasiness abated. Why did the ray stop? What was so important in this room? Curiosity replaced her fear. "Strikedag. Give us some lights in here!" The Strikedag popped an anti-grav flare and a cavernous room filled with light.

Commlead Haridep couldn't believe her eyes.

The Reliant's bridge crew watched in amazement as the legs of the Cross separated from the core and slowly drifted away. A giant hatch opened in the bottom of the dreadnought and a tractor beam lifted the Cross's core into the belly of the beast.

Captain Arslac shook his head as the core disappeared and the hatch closed. "Make sure those vids get added to the collection. I'm sure HQ will want to see that."

"We'll be in Kali range in thirty seconds, Sir," said the exec.

"Fire when in range," he commanded. Time seemed to stop, then the familiar vibrations of the Kali cannons throbbed through the ship. Red patches glowed on the shields of the Kraken ship. The Kali cannons continued their assault and the red patches deepened to burgundy, then black.

"Her shields are collapsing! Aim for the holes!" yelled the Captain into his comm.

Cannon shells exploded on the surface of the Kraken ship. The dreadnought ignored the massive assault and opened fire with a wide laser on the legs of the Cross. Laser light became so intense it appeared as if a small sun went nova under the behemoth. No one saw the destruction of the shuttlecraft.

Kali cannon shells poured into the side of the Kraken hurling pieces of its hull off into space. The giant ship kept to its task. When the destruction of the Cross's legs was complete, the wide laser disappeared and the ship accelerated. The behemoth ship rolled over to protect its damaged side and turned toward the Reliant.

"Break off the attack and take us out of range, Mr. Embry, flank speed!"

The Reliant sped away from the pursuing monster. All eyes watched their screens as the brute that had enough firepower to vaporize a three mile long Kraken Cross accelerated.

"She's gaining on us, Sir," said Mr. Embry.

"I guess the information on the top speed of the Class Thirty-six was incorrect," said Captain Arslac. "I'm going to send a note to Intelligence demanding an apology." That got a few smiles. His hands still gripped the arms of the command chair and he forced himself to relax. They couldn't outrun it, couldn't outgun it and couldn't form a jump gate. That realization left him feeling strangely calm. He stood and looked at each face of his bridge crew. They knew it too.

"Load all our data into a communications pod and launch when ready."

He watched the pod streak outward from the Reliant. The communications pod had a small dimgate engine and could make it home. All it needed was a few minutes to create a gate. "People, a lot of information was taken from the Cross and beamed to HQ, but we never received an acknowledgement. The comm pod holds all our data and will alert Fleet to the Kraken presence. Our job now is to protect the pod until it dimgates." He turned to the navigator. "Ensign, plot a course to keep us between the Kraken and the pod until it dims." He faced his crew. "Let's make it pay for every yard of space." He looked down for a moment then smiled and faced his men. "You are the best crew a captain could ever ask for. Thank you all for your fine efforts. I am proud to serve with you." His range indicator blinked red.

"Fire!"

CHAPTER 23

The Sorcerer's gesture of peace and his mild demeanor didn't calm Duke Lothogorn's council. Although Adrianna didn't feel that the stranger was a threat, she unsheathed one of her throwing knives and sidled to the stranger's right. Balthus, with sword drawn, had edged around to the man's left. She curled the fingers of her left hand, leaving the thumb and pinky extended. She shook her hand until Balthus noticed and nodded once. She had signaled that she would distract and he would attack.

Before she moved, the Duke stepped to the fore. "First, you will tell me how you got in here," he commanded, "then we will decide whether or not to throw you into the dungeon!" Adrianna knew Lotho's words were more bluster than courage.

Dieya smiled. "I am sorry to alarm you gentle folk, but I am here to help. To answer your question, your Lordship, I arrived here by a small bit of magic." He clicked the end of his black staff on the floor for emphasis. "I have been in this room many times before and transported here using a spell."

"Impossible! I have never seen you before in my life," exclaimed the Duke.

"Quite true, your Lordship. I was here counseling Duke Corlin Lothogorn some time ago," said the stranger.

"Corlin has been dead for twenty-five years," protested Lotho.

Lord Faltast spoke up. "But it was said Dieya the Sorcerer was a guest here from time to time, your Lordship."

"True, Corlin and I were equals in Shallcross and I enjoyed a game with him now and again," replied Dieya.

"That would make Dieya the Sorcerer over sixty. But you can't be much more than thirty," stated the Duke.

"Your eyes can be fooled, your Lordship. Trust only your heart," said Dieya as he touched the amulet strapped to his forearm. His staff never moved, but the figure holding it shrank and became a long-bearded, gnarled old man. "Is this what you expected to see, your Lordship, when meeting Dieya the Sorcerer?" he said, extending a withered arm. He again touched the amulet and the image of the old man wavered, then was replaced by the original form.

The Duke's hands shook. "I never believed much in magic," he muttered, glancing down at the floor. "I thought all were charlatans or worse." He looked back to the stranger. "But now..." He moved to within a few feet of the sorcerer and stared into his eyes. "You give good advice, the same advice that Balthus usually gives me – trust your heart." He stared a moment longer into Dieya's eyes. "You may or may not be the famed sorcerer, but I can see there is no malice in your breast to me and mine." He nodded then spread his arms. "Though these are times of trouble, welcome to Castle Lothogorn, Sorcerer Dieya."

"Thank you for your hospitality, your Lordship." Dieya looked at Balthus who was still slowly advancing with drawn sword. He shifted his staff to his right hand and raised his left palm up to Balthus. "Sir, I mean no harm, truly."

"If so, I would feel more comfortable if you lowered your palm," said Balthus. "The last sorcerer I saw today holding up his palm tried to fry me with a red beam of light."

The man in black quickly lowered his arm and took a step toward Balthus, a questioning look on his face. "Today? He used a death ray?" His face darkened and his hand clenched into a fist. "They grow bold," he muttered, glancing down in thought. He raised his eyes to Balthus. "If you escaped the death ray, you must be a very lucky man, Sir – ?"

The Duke raised a hand to his forehead. "You must excuse my manners at a time like this," he said and gestured to his friend. "This is Sir Balthus, my very good friend and counselor."

"Balthus of Steradam?" asked Dieya. Balthus nodded. Dieya turned to Adrianna who had closed to his right flank. "Then this must be the Lady Adrianna." He smiled and gave an expansive bow. "It is my pleasure to meet you."

Adrianna advanced to within a step of Dieya, her knife a foot from his throat. The Sorcerer ignored the knife and held his smile. Meeting and holding his gaze, she realized that the Duke was correct. This stranger held no malice toward them. With a little twirl, she sheathed her knife. Smiling, she laced her arm through the sorcerer's.

"You must forgive our mistrust, please," Adrianna said, patting his forearm and guiding him toward the table. "Have a cup of wine and tell us why you have chosen to grace us with your presence." She glanced behind the sorcerer and nodded to Balthus. He sheathed his sword and walked toward his seat. She knew he would form his own judgment of the man, but for right now he would go with her instinct.

"First I'd like to hear Sir Balthus' tale," said Dieya. He laid his staff behind his chair and sat down at the table. "Tis not a tale many men have survived to tell."

"Well, it was easy," said Balthus without cracking a smile, "the beam bounced off my sterling character, it's as simple at that." Chuckles came from around the table, the first smiles seen since this morning's fiasco. Balthus stood, lifted the wine pitcher and filled everyone's cup while he related the happenings in Baron Yorburg's tent to the sorcerer.

When he finished, Adrianna hoisted her cup to Balthus. "That is a true, unembellished account of today's action. Balthus, you must still be upset by what went on in that tent to tell it so straight."

"Nay, lass. There is a time for embellishments and that is after the cutting is done. This is not over by a long toss, and our guest must know what we face before throwing in his lot with us." He glanced back to Dieya. "But from your comments, I take it you have had a previous acquaintance with the Baron of Yorburg – or whoever he is now. Would you care to share that information?" he asked, staring deeply into the sorcerer's eyes in challenge.

"Of course, Sir Balthus. I believe in the saying, 'unity will vanquish a common foe.' Perhaps we might band our strengths together to handle this problem – to that end, I will tell you all I can."

"All you can or all you know?" said Balthus, smiling quickly to take the sting from the remark.

"All I can. There are certain oaths I've taken and trusts I will not break, but I will tell you all that is necessary to rid ourselves of the Baron of Yorburg." He stared back at Balthus.

"Fair enough," said Balthus, leaning back in his chair, "and I feel better knowing you respect a trust. Tell on, Sir Sorcerer," he said with a flip of his hand.

"Please, just refer to me as Dieya. It will be easier for all." He took a sip of wine and also leaned back in his chair.

Adrianna, looking back and forth between Balthus and Dieya, wondered if they were done taking each other's measure. Balthus' relaxed position indicated he had decided to trust Dieya to a certain extent. Balthus was excellent at reading first impressions – just as he was terrible at creating a good one.

"First," said Dieya, "I must give a little background on the powers at work here. There are certain forces in the world, gods if you will. Some encourage what is good and just, and some perpetuate evil and hard times. The bad ones gain power from the evil deeds and the misery they can create."

"And the good ones?" interjected Balthus.

"Let's just say the good ones benefit from the lack of power amassed by the bad ones. The creature that now inhabits the Baron of Yorburg's body is called a Krill. A construct of the evil powers designed to bring mayhem to Ravar. A 'demon,' you might say, has invaded the Baron's body and remade it with a strong metal frame with the Baron's skin as a shell." He gestured to Balthus. "That is why your sword did so little damage."

Lotho threw open his hands. "What does it want?"

"Well..." Dieya paused for a moment. "Let me continue." He took a sip of wine. "The world is filled with power that flows like the currents and tides of the sea. A power which can be good or bad. Did you ever come to a meadow that was just bursting with life where it was impossible to even try to entertain negative thoughts?" He received nods from around the table. "And some places that just felt bad and made you angry for no reason?"

"Kroutan Valley," Balthus said, glancing at Adrianna. She nodded in agreement.

Dieya continued. "There is an unseen power generated by every living thing, and to a lesser extent, every non-living thing. Sometimes the power turns negative, from pressure inside the earth or living beings' attitudes and experiences. This negative power can be gathered by magic and formed into pools we call dark nodes. The Krill's job is to funnel the power from these nodes to a central location for collection by the bad gods." Dieya gestured to the surrounding walls. "Duke Lothogorn's castle is sitting on such a location."

"You mean to say," said the Duke, "that my castle is a place of evil power? I dare say this is all poppycock. The Castle of the Lothogorns has never been an evil place!"

"True, your Lordship," responded the sorcerer, "your castle and lands are not evil. But imagine several pools of water, high up in the mountains. If you create a channel from each pool to a lower meadow, the water will flow downward and gather at the lower meadow, will it not? The area we are in is like the lower meadow, not that it has anything to do with height, just location. That's why the Krill needs you out of here. This area is too populous. If he worked his collection magic without being in charge of the locale, word would spread."

"Word would spread to whom?" asked the Duke.

Dieya smiled. "Well, word would get to me actually, and he doesn't want any interference with his scheme."

Adrianna let the sorcerer's words sink in, seeing how they fit in with her understanding of the world. Balthus' squirming told her he had already made up his mind.

"Good gods, bad gods. I'm sorry Dieya, but I can't buy any of it," said Balthus, playing with his empty cup. "I've been around long enough to experience that God is only good. Evil is just the lack of men's understanding.

"When some calamity like a fire happens, people cry 'Oh, God is not happy with us!' In reality, God gives us all free will and a choice every second. No one made them live in that house. It was their choice. A child dies and it is seen as a tragedy – which it is from our perspective – but what if the purpose of a body is just to hold the spirit for a while, and when the body is no longer needed it is discarded like an old shirt? It may seem that God is uncaring, but perhaps He is only doing the laundry." Balthus waved his empty cup at a servant, then continued. "God has given us everything we could ever need in this world. It is only our perspective that needs changing."

Dieya nodded. "I agree completely, Balthus. But you are talking about the Creator who has made us all." Dieya looked down and tapped a finger on the table. "Perhaps I used the wrong analogy when referring to 'gods.' How about this?" He sat forward in his chair. "Imagine creatures so advanced they are like alarats to lusedung beetles. The beetle is never aware of the presence of the flying alarat because he cannot look up. But what if the alarat had some use for the luse dung as shaped by the beetle? Would it not be in his best interest to try to create an environment that favored the beetle? Especially if it involved killing the beetle's enemies?"

"It depends. Which are we, lusedung beetles or their enemies?" Balthus grinned.

Dieya laughed and shook his head. "I can see your reputation is well deserved, Sir Balthus."

"Again, it depends who you heard it from, the beetle or its enemies," said Balthus. Everyone had been intently listening to Dieya's tale but now they laughed, releasing a little more of the day's stored tension.

"Tell me, Dieya the Sorcerer, can you kill the lusedung beetle that resides in that ugly purple tent outside?" asked Balthus.

Dieya looked down at his hands. "Yes. Yes I can. But we are evenly matched. I would like to enter that contest with a bit of an edge."

Balthus paused for a moment, stroked his beard then looked at Adrianna. "Perhaps we can give you that edge... But I have one other question."

"Ask away and I will answer it if I can," replied Dieya.

Balthus leaned toward the sorcerer, looking him dead in the eyes. "If the Krill outside is a construct of the bad gods, are you a construct of the good gods?"

Adrianna was startled to see a blush begin at the base of Dieya's neck and creep upward to his cheeks. Then, with a slight shake of his head, it vanished.

"Balthus of Steradam," said Dieya, also leaning forward and meeting Balthus eye to eye, "you must be an excellent Shallcross player. Perhaps we could play sometime."

"Yes, we shall. Perhaps after this is all over – but I must warn you, I have an unfailing strategy." Balthus leaned back again in his chair and looked at his nails.

"What is that, pray tell?" asked Dieya.

"I cheat," said Balthus, folding his arms.

Adrianna smiled and Lotho grunted.

"Does that always allow you the win?" asked Dieya.

"No," chimed in Duke Lothogorn, "if things are still going badly he will cause a distraction, so as not to finish the game. Once, in Freetown, he set fire to the board when he was losing."

"Purely an accident I assure you, Lotho. But enough about Shallcross. Let's discuss the Baron of Yorburg."

"See," said the Duke to Dieya and nodding to all, "he's doing it now."

Everyone smiled.

Balthus put on his best hurt look. "Friends, you cut me to the quick," he said, holding his hand over his heart.

"Balthus, if your intention is to cover your soul, you'll have to move your hand downward a bit," said the Duke.

The entire group erupted with laughter and the episode helped transport the group into the category of friends rather than just acquaintances with the same goal. Adrianna wondered if that was Balthus' plan all along and glanced at him. Balthus gave her a wink.

"Dieya, you mentioned needing an edge," said Adrianna. "Why don't you just use magic to appear in Yorburg's tent and kill him?"

"If I use that spell to appear that close to the Krill, he will be forewarned and ready for me. Even my presence closer than one hundred feet will warn him."

"Can your magic destroy him from greater than one hundred feet?" asked Balthus.

"Yes. If I can see him before he sees me, he is dead."

"Good," said Balthus. "Now if you will excuse us, I would like to have a word with my beautiful lady." He pushed his chair back and led Adrianna to a corner of the room. They bent their heads together and Balthus whispered to her.

Dieya glanced at them and gave the Duke a questioning look.

"Oh, do not worry," said the Duke. "Balthus probably has some hair-brained scheme that he wants to first tell Adrianna. She is his safety line." Lotho raised his voice. "She stops him from getting too carried away with his less intelligent ideas."

Balthus, never looking up, shot Lotho an obscene gesture.

The Duke laughingly returned the salute and continued his explanation. "Thank goodness she is such a calming influence on him. You should have seen him before he met her." The Duke chuckled. "No idea was too bold, no fight too tough," he shook his head, "and no one could tell him otherwise."

Dieya looked at the couple. Balthus pantomimed something then wind-milled his arms. Adrianna listened intently.

"They seem to fit well," said Dieya. "That is something of great worth."

"Yes, it is," said the Duke, smiling as he watched the two. "Great worth."

A squire entered the hall and whispered into the Duke's ear. Lotho grimaced.

"Something amiss, your Lordship?" asked Dieya.

"Yes, I guess it is. Our lookouts have reported four large covered wagons arriving at Yorburg's camp."

"Wagons, your Lordship?" asked Dieya

"Oh, that's right, you weren't here for Balthus' arrival." The Duke recounted how Balthus discovered Yorburg's plan to fire the castle with naphtha and how Adrianna destroyed the wagons.

"A remarkable couple," said Dieya, as the Duke finished the tale.

Balthus and Adrianna walked back to the table, arm in arm. All eyes were on them.

"What?" Balthus asked as he and Adrianna took their seats.

"Nothing." said the Duke. "We were just wondering what devilish plans you two were hatching."

Balthus shrugged. "I was telling Adrianna what I'd like for tomorrow's breakfast, that's all."

"That's the only reason you love me," said Adrianna. "Breakfast."

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head. "I can think of two more reasons – lunch and dinner." Adrianna made as if to throw her wine cup at him and he flinched. "But we do have an idea and we'd like to see what you think of it."

"Whatever the plan, we'd better do it at break of dawn," said the Duke, "because several large, covered wagons have arrived in Yorburg's camp."

"Damn!" said Adrianna.

Balthus explained his plan, and they began to work out the details.

CHAPTER 24

Balthus and Adrianna retired to their room for a few hours' rest. Balthus was glad – it had been a long day and his newest plan required them to be up again well before dawn.

Lotho had settled them in the best guestroom in the castle. Adorned with colorful tapestries and comfortable furnishings, the room conveyed congeniality. The cheery glow from the banked fire added to the effect.

Balthus ignored the décor, stepped to the window and looked down. Unease plagued the corners of his mind at the sight of the countless mercenary fires stretching out before him. He wished he could sweep them away like so many glowbugs.

Balthus shook off the feeling, inhaled deeply and sat on the bed. Taking off his boots, he massaged his toes. "So, are you confident in my plan?"

Adrianna had already undressed and was settling in bed. "Yes," she said. "The only unknown is Dieya."

Balthus nodded. "Yes. I remember hearing stories about him as a child. Never thought I'd meet him."

Balthus undressed, got under the covers, and placed his arm over Adrianna.

"I hope he is as good as his word," said Balthus. "If he fails to kill Yorburg, at least we will have a good chance to get away, being mounted."

"True. Steal the best mounts you can, in case we have to ride for it."

"You got it, Love." He pulled the covers up higher and snuggled against her back. "You are right, though; the only unknown is Dieya. I feel you were right to trust him. My instincts tell me he's not evil or trying to manipulate us. I worked him over pretty well at the table and he passed my word-baiting games. He is not telling us the whole story, that's for sure, but after that conversation about lesser gods and greater beings, I'm not sure I want to know."

"Yes, there's something odd about him. I liked him well enough right off, but there is a ruthless streak in him."

"I think that ruthless streak is dedication, like a missionary, and you'd better not like him too much or I'll get jealous," said Balthus.

"Ha! You, jealous?" She snorted and adjusted her pillow. "But you needn't worry. There is too much difference in our ages for me to be interested."

"You're not that much older than he is, sweetheart," he said, as he fluffed his pillow.

She rose on one elbow and turned to look at him. "I'm not sure if you know what an insult that is."

"Insult?" Balthus looked stunned. "I meant it as a complement."

"Lord Faltast did some research while we were discussing our plans," said Adrianna. "The first mention he found of 'Dieya the Sorcerer' was in Duke William's journal – Lotho's grandfather. Dieya has to be over ninety years old."

"Oh yes, I remember that being mentioned." The look on his face changed to one of amusement. "So then I was right – you're not much older than he is."

"Ouff," he exclaimed as her elbow jabbed his stomach. Laughing, they settled down to sleep.

CHAPTER 25

An hour before dawn, Dieya, Balthus and Adrianna stood once again on the northern parapet. A cold wind blew down from the mountains and Adrianna pulled the ragged old cloak closer around her. She was uncomfortable in the shabby, borrowed leather armor, but it would have to do. Balthus wore worse but had still wanted to wear his horned helmet. When she mentioned that Oldwick might be on the lookout for such a helm, he had quickly traded it for another. Balthus disguised his face by wearing a bandage, complete with a little animal blood.

Dieya peered over the parapet. "It's completely clear on this side," he said. "The closest sentries are those two under the first tree to the south," he said, pointing.

Balthus looked at Dieya then back over the parapet. "My eyesight is very good, but if you can see those sentries in the dark at this distance your eyes are remarkable."

"Yes," smiled Dieya, "it's one of the gifts the gods bestow on someone who doesn't cheat at Shallcross."

"Nice," Balthus muttered as he pulled a grapnel out of a pack. "Are you sure you won't stand out in that black outfit."

Dieya smiled. "Remember the old man illusion I showed to the Duke? Anyone looking at me will only see another mercenary, poorly dressed and underfed." Balthus opened his mouth to speak but Dieya interrupted. "No, this is not magic that the Krill can hear."

"Reading minds is neither charming, nor polite," said Balthus.

Dieya turned to Adrianna. "Is he always cranky when awakened early?"

"All right gentlemen, let's get serious here," said Adrianna, placing a hand on each of their arms. "I'd rather not walk through the enemy camp with you two exchanging witticisms." She stroked Dieya's arm. "On the other hand, this black cloth is rather stunning. You must tell me where you got it."

"Now it's getting serious," said Balthus. He finished coiling his rope and stepped away several paces. Twirling the grapnel around his head in an ever increasing circle, Balthus threw it in a high arc that reached to the boulders on the far side of the moat before descending. The cloth-wrapped grapnel made little sound as it landed. Balthus pulled the rope taut and gave it several hard yanks, setting the hooks.

"Now comes the fun part," he said, tying the rope around a merlon. He looped a short piece of chain over the grapnel line and held both ends. Looking back at Adrianna he said, "Don't get your pants wet," and jumped off the wall. His slide took him on a fast ride over the moat to the rocks where he landed safely.

"Do you get the feeling if we didn't have to be quiet he would have yelled 'Wheee!' the whole way down?" she said.

Dieya smiled and nodded as he lashed his staff to his back. "Your consort is in love with life. We need more of his kind in this world."

"One more like Balthus would be two too many." She grinned.

Balthus had drawn his dagger and disappeared into the dark. He appeared seconds later and gestured 'all clear.' The slide didn't excite Adrianna and she was glad when Balthus caught her at its end. Dieya followed, sliding noiselessly using his hands.

"Good way to ruin a nice set of gloves," said Balthus.

"Not these." Dieya flexed his hands inside the soft leather. "They don't even get warm."

"You simply must put me in touch with your tailor," said Adrianna with a smile.

"Now," said Balthus, cutting the grapnel rope, "if you two can stop talking fashion, we'll find a place to hide out until breakfast."

Adrianna grinned. "Your mind's always on food," she said, as they made their way deeper into the rocks.

Breakfast time in Yorburg's camp was one of sleepy motion. The lack of discipline and the many different bands of mercenaries caused mornings to appear more like a large village bazaar than a seriously armed encampment. Balthus counted on this as he made his way to the mercenaries' corral, cloaked with an attitude of sleepy boredom and a biscuit he had filched from a tray. A simple grunt of "out-rider duty" eased the guards' challenge and they waved him in. He eyed two luses that looked good, but were not the best – taking the best ones might arouse suspicion. He saddled the luses and led them from the makeshift corral.

Still cautious about being recognized, he walked between the luses as he led them to the prearranged spot to meet Adrianna. I hope this plan works better than the last one, he thought.

CHAPTER 26

Saladar stood outside the Baron's tent, fear growing in his belly. The purple tent had become a symbol of terror for him. Anxiety gnawed Saladar every time he neared the Baron yet the chest of gold called to him. He remembered the sight of the gleaming coins in the war chest. Better stop thinking about it! He didn't believe Yorburg could read minds, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

After yesterday's attack, he thought at the very least the Baron would relieve him of his command. At the most – well, he had seen the hole in the armor of the knight assassin. After the attack, Saladar had rushed to the Baron's tent expecting to find the Baron dead. Instead he found him calmly standing with arms crossed. Saladar had blustered about the shortcomings of the mercenary sentries, how it was not his fault, how guards would ring the tent, shoulder to shoulder, twenty-four hours a day – anything to avoid the Baron's wrath. To his surprise, the Baron was indifferent to the attack on his person. He didn't even want any guards posted, claiming a need for privacy. He just wanted his tent erected, repaired and the dead body removed.

A gust of wind billowing the tent shook Saladar from his reverie. He inhaled sharply and entered. The smell of decay wafting to his nostrils caused him to halt close to the entrance. "You sent for me, your Lordship?"

The Baron was seated facing the door, a map rolled up on his lap. "Saladar, how is our schedule proceeding?"

"Very well, Sir. The rest of the naphtha has arrived and the catapults and bridge will be in place this morning. We can begin firing the castle this afternoon. By evening it should all be over."

"Excellent. This is sooner than expected." The Baron unrolled his map and nodded. "Perhaps I have been a bit harsh with you lately. Why don't you take a handful of gold with you as a reward for a job well done. I know how much you thirst for it." The Baron gestured toward the chest at the back of the tent. "We may need to work together in the future."

Saladar broke into a sweat. Was this a trick? Walking to the chest, he licked his thick lips, knowing he couldn't leave the tent without seeing the gold again. He kept one eye on the Baron, who seemed to have forgotten his presence. Opening the lid, all his thoughts vanished. Lust filled him, stronger than when he took a woman. He reached into the chest, longing for the feel of the cool metal on his fingers. The glittering gold mesmerized him so thoroughly the sound of galloping luses didn't enter his awareness.

Balthus and Adrianna rode full tilt toward the Baron's tent, each swinging a small grappling hook secured to their luse's pommel. Riding swiftly side by side, they split and rode on each side of the purple tent like water flowing around a rock. Balthus glanced at the few souls loitering near the area. He hoped one of them was Dieya in his disguise or this would look awfully silly and probably get them killed.

Tossed simultaneously, the grapnels arced through the air and caught the tent roof. The luses never slowed and the hooks yanked the purple canvas backwards, exposing the inside. Balthus had a quick view of the Baron seated in a chair and someone else tangled in the cloth near the rear of the tent. His job done, Balthus slowed, cut his hook and turned to see if they should help or flee. Adrianna rode to his side.

Now it would be up to Dieya.

The Baron of Yorburg stood and looked at Balthus. He didn't notice the skinny mercenary a little over a hundred feet away from what had been the entrance to the tent. The shape of the mercenary wavered, blurred and suddenly became Dieya, hood thrown back and long blond hair streaming backwards. With his black cloak billowing behind him like some gigantic bird of prey, he looked like an avenging wraith. Dieya pointed his staff at the Baron and a humming stream of blue light flashed from the tip, enveloping the Barons' body.

With a cry of rage, the Baron turned, then staggered. He tried to raise a palm, fighting the effects of the blue beam, but Dieya advanced with purposeful strides, hammering him with the blue light. Dieya's face was a hard mask of concentration, determination and anger.

The Baron began to wither.

Dismounting, Balthus and Adrianna drew their swords and approached the tent. Dieya was less than ten feet from the Baron, who had fallen to his knees. Balthus and Adrianna came closer and Dieya held up a warning hand.

"Stop!" he cried, over the menacing hum. "I must finish this!"

The blue beam's humming grew more intense as did the look on Dieya's face. The Baron's flesh burned away and he sagged to the ground, leaving only bones. As he fell, Adrianna saw light glint off the Baron's skull as if it were made of metal.

"Dieya, I think he's dead," said Balthus.

"Not yet, but soon," said Dieya, moving closer.

The skull dissolved to reveal a strange, many-angled box in its center. Dieya focused his beam on the box until it shattered with a sound like breaking crystal. A red, glowing ball lay revealed at its heart. Something about the ball made Balthus' skin crawl. The sight of the pulsating horror drove Adrianna to Balthus' side. As white lightning flashed around the ball, its red glow faded and it became a black cinder.

The light from Dieya's staff ended and the humming abruptly ceased.

The sudden silence had Balthus tugging on his ear.

Dieya walked to the black cinder and crushed it under his boot heel. "Stay off my world, foul creature!"

With an effort, Balthus pulled his attention from what was left of the Baron and noticed the crowd drawing near the tent. "Dieya the Sorcerer has killed the Baron!" he yelled, waving his sword. "Run! Run! He will kill us all!" Dropping his sword and screaming horribly, he clutched his chest then fell to his knees.

Dieya, following up on Balthus' cue, pointed his staff and hurled blue lightning at the ground in front of the crowd. Where the lightning struck, a fiery explosion followed. The crowd panicked and ran.

"Dieya," said Balthus, heaving himself up quickly. "Can you reach the wagons across the encampment?"

Dieya smiled and nodded. He aimed his staff at the naphtha-filled wagons and quickly sent a blue streak into the center one. The resulting explosion put the rest of the camp into a rout. The giant ball of flame expanded outward, destroying everything in its path then funneled upward sending an enormous cloud of smoke into the air. Mercenaries ran pell-mell, grabbing at panicked luses.

"Well, I guess that put the fear of God into them – or gods anyway," said Balthus. Grinning, he walked to Dieya and clasped the man in black's right shoulder. Adrianna joined them and they watched the mercenary horde stream away from the castle into the countryside.

"A good morning's work, Dieya," said Adrianna.

"Look!" interrupted Balthus, pointing. "There goes Oldwick! Dieya, put one of your fire bolts into that huge character on the large luse."

"Why? He's leaving. He's no longer a threat," said Dieya.

Glancing down, Balthus muttered under his breath, "Not a threat to you, maybe." He looked again at Dieya's face. "No, really, you should have heard what he said about your mother. You should blast him for that!" He nodded vigorously, trying to entice Dieya into action.

Dieya's gaze never left the milling mercenaries. "I don't know why he would have said that. I never had a mother."

Balthus and Adrianna exchanged a puzzled glance behind Dieya's back, then Balthus shrugged. "Well friends," said Balthus. "Lotho owes us a large amount of wine for this little favor. I say we go and collect."

"I agree wholeheartedly," said Dieya, inhaling deeply. "The destruction of a Krill is always cause for celebration."

"Speaking of celebration..." Balthus motioned toward the castle.

The drawbridge was down and a cheering mob poured forth, forming a path on either side of the road, applauding the trio. A squadron of mounted knights galloped through the gates for a sweep at the remaining mercenaries.

Balthus placed his arm around Dieya's shoulders and gestured to the crowd. "Ah, this is how I'm usually greeted when entering Castle Lothogorn."

Adrianna laced her arm through Dieya's and they walked toward the castle. "He will be insufferable for the whole day," she said.

"Only the whole day?" said Dieya. "I should think the entire week."

"Hey!" cried Balthus.

"You don't know Balthus very well, yet," said Adrianna. "He will distract himself with something else by nightfall."

"You two have once again shown no ability to recognize true talent when you see it," said Balthus. He instructed them the entire way back.

CHAPTER 27

Saladar waited until the camp grew silent before chancing a peek from under the tangle of tent cloth. He was alone. Fear had pinned him flat to the tent floor and he was stiff. He had seen and heard enough to know it was all over. No Baron – no captain of the Baron's guards. He groaned as he raised himself to his knees and threw off the heavy tent cloth. A clinking sound caught his attention. He looked down and stared. The chest of gold had spilled over onto the floor and he had been lying in it the entire time.

The gleaming metal shone like a bright dream. He quickly glanced around. No one was near. Drawing his dagger, he cut out a large square of purple tent and filled it with gold. "Must not be too greedy!" he said aloud, panting with excitement. He couldn't take all of it, but he wanted as much as he could carry. Standing, he hefted the purple sack. It was almost too heavy, but he wouldn't do with less. The intense greed filling him made him dizzy. He tied the sack closed and struggled off to find a luse.

CHAPTER 28

"This is not good," said Strikedag Tanner, peering out the hole they had cut to enter the core. From inside the core, they had watched with growing alarm as they were lifted into the pitch black belly of the behemoth. The stars had winked out as the hold's doors closed and now there was only darkness.

Thoughts of being a Kraken prisoner froze Commlead Haridep's blood. She had read too many classified reports on the possible treatment of human prisoners and recognized that fear was driving her into shock. Her best action would be to focus on something else. Stepping away from the hole, she lit another flare and looked again at the interior of the core.

The flare's meager light was almost lost in the cavernous room and she directed the Strikedag to fire one to each corner of the core. In the brighter light, the Commlead still had trouble grasping the scale. The chamber was so immense she could barely see the far wall.

They stood on a ten-foot-wide ramp near the roof of the core. She looked over the edge to the floor far below and her heart leaped from a touch of vertigo. The ramp wound around the inside of the chamber walls, spiraling downward until it reached the floor.

Enormous machinery, connected by a mass of wires, hung from the center of the ceiling pointing downward. The bulk reached two-thirds of the way to the floor like an inverted pyramid. She silently speculated on its function until Strikedag Tanner interrupted her thoughts.

"Yo, look alive. I think we're getting visitors."

The Commlead looked back at the opening in the wall. A lighted platform carrying three robots floated toward them.

The Strikedag turned to the Lancelead. "Those are D-twenty-nines, Sir. They're not battle droids but they are laser equipped."

"Strikedag, you stand on one side of the hole and the Commlead and I will stand on the other. We'll catch them in a crossfire when they enter."

"Uh... Begging your pardon, Sir..." Strikedag Tanner hesitated. "I wouldn't like to be across from you when you fire at the droids. How about we all stay on the same side? The Commlead can be out a little from the wall. The effect will be the same."

"Of course, Strikedag, good idea." A chagrinned-looking Lancelead nodded to the Strikedag. "Weapons check," ordered Lancelead Grey. "No one fire until I do."

"I suggest we lay on the floor," said the Strikedag. "We'll be smaller targets that way. Droid's weapons are kept parallel to the floor and they will have to track downward to score a hit. By that time we'll have them ready for the scrap heap."

The Commlead followed the marines' lead and lay on the floor. "Gentlemen. I must tell you. I haven't fired a blaster since basic training." The pounding of her heart grew louder in her ears. "I'm just an information analyst for Gless sake!"

"Great," muttered the Strikedag.

"Just pick your targets carefully, Commander," said the Lancelead.

The lights from the platform drew closer. The only sound over the comm channel was the trio's breathing echoing in their helmets. The platform arrived with a flash of lights. Furtive, shadowy motion filled the opening but nothing entered. Tension gripped the Commlead and she almost fired at the metal panel suddenly thrown up over the hole. A red glow edged the covered opening, then slowly faded.

"Weapons on safe," ordered the Lancelead. "It looks like they sealed us up." The two marines stood. "I don't think they know we're here. That's great!"

Strikedag Tanner stared at the Lancelead. "No offense, Sir, but being sealed inside a Kraken Cross's core that's inside a Kraken dreadnought isn't great."

The Lancelead puffed out a breath. "You're right, Dagger... And by the way, good catch on that crossfire mistake. If you see me about to stuff the oucher like that again, please sing out in a loud bass voice."

The Strikedag smiled. "Aye Sir, but it will have to be in baritone, it gives me the best range."

The Commlead had risen to her knees. The calming drugs the battlesuit had sprayed in her air were gradually taking effect. She stared at the marines, then closed her eyes. They seemed completely unaffected by the encounter. Standing, she took a deep breath and distracted herself by looking down into the core. The possibilities below helped wash away the remnants of fear. "Well, Strikedag, being sealed inside a dreadnought might not be great," said the Commlead, "but it does give us a great opportunity."

The marines turned and stared at her.

"It gives us a chance to see why this core is so important," she said. With excitement building, she started down the ramp.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," said Lancelead Grey. "Would you mind if we do a little systems check before you run off? I know the Dagger and I had a full systems load before we left the shuttle. Did you? We're kind of a long way from re-supply."

The Commlead stopped and shook her head. "You're right Lancelead." She double blinked and read off her suit's stats. "I have two and a half days oxygen, food and water. I can stretch the food but can only recycle the oxygen so far. How about you two?"

"Our battle suits are better equipped than your scout suit is, Ma'am," said the Lancelead. "We're good for a tenday and we can reload your canisters when you run dry. I suggest we turn down the oxygen supply close to the minimum and take it slow." He looked at the ramp spiraling downward. "Each side of this chamber is about half-a-mile and there look to be about ten levels of ramp. That's a twenty mile hike to the bottom floor. In order to save oxygen, we talk only when necessary. Leave your comms open on the short range channel. There's no need to switch frequencies since there are only three of us and it might save us a second. Leave your motion scanners on and if they beep, drop to the ground and freeze. Strikedag, take point. I'll bring up the rear."

"Lancelead. I am the ranking officer here," said Commlead Haridep.

The marines stopped and stared at her. A hard glare came into the Strikedag's eyes and his hand opened and closed on his laser-rifle.

Lancelead Grey had stiffened. "Yes, Ma'am."

She held up her hand in a gesture of peace. "Since I have no combat training, I will ask you to take charge of military matters, but I will be in charge when we investigate the lowest floor. Clear?"

"I believe that's wise, Ma'am," said the Lancelead.

She smiled. "But in matters of common sense I suggest we both defer to the Strikedag."

The Lancelead relaxed and nodded. "I heard that, Ma'am."

Strikedag Tanner shook his head and started down the ramp. "Officers," he muttered.

The three of them began their long walk.

CHAPTER 29

Duke Lothogorn and his counselors sat at the heavily laden head table in the crowded main hall. Dieya, Balthus and Adrianna sat at the duke's right hand as the honored guests. Musicians played a lively tune and jugglers tossed plates to each other, keeping at least three in the air at all times. The merriment had been ongoing since the siege ended.

Duke Lothogorn had ordered a three-day feast in celebration of their victory. He was originally going to announce a one-day celebration, but his knights had found a substantial amount of gold in the remains of Baron Yorburg's tent. Balthus knew the gold had stuck to many fingers before it got to the Duke, but it was more than enough to warrant a large celebration.

Balthus always enjoyed Lotho's parties. The Duke never stood on ceremony and his festivities were likened to a rowdy warrior's tavern rather than the staid dining hall of a duke. The music and dancers were getting louder and wilder in proportion to the number of wine casks breached.

"So, where do you go next?" Balthus asked Dieya.

Dieya leaned closer to hear. "What was that?" he asked.

The music ended amidst a round of applause. "So where are you off to next, Dieya? Killing more lusedung beetles?" Adrianna returned from the dance floor, and sat next to Balthus. He handed her a cup of wine.

"No," said Dieya, "but there are several 'pools' of that negative power I must dispose of."

"Do you need any help? Adrianna and I are skilled disposers of negativity," said Balthus. "All we do is arrive, smile, and the sun comes out."

"I'm sure that's true," said Dieya, "but these require some magical influence to disperse. I will leave in the morning."

"So soon? We have yet to have that Shallcross game, and Lotho's wine cellar can be matched only by the King's."

"Yes, I promised a friend," said Dieya. He peered into the distance a moment, then turned to Balthus. "The pools are deadly and I wish no one else to come to harm."

Balthus nodded. "You are misnamed. You should be 'Dieya the Paladin,' not 'Dieya the Sorcerer.'" Balthus raised his wine cup. "Your dedication is enviable."

"This from a man who knows not the meaning of the word," laughed Adrianna.

"I'm dedicated to you, Dear," said Balthus, smiling.

Dieya opened his mouth to reply, but was halted by the Duke's voice.

"Quiet! Quiet!" yelled Duke Lothogorn over the din. The word "quiet" echoed around the hall. The celebrants settled down as the Duke staggered to his feet. "I propose a toast," he slurred as he lifted his cup, "to our newest friend Dieya the Saucer." He slopped his wine as he gestured to Dieya. "And my friend Balfuss, and Adriann, and my wife and my knights, and you good people, and – "

His speech ended as his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed onto the table, falling face down into the remains of the roast. The crowd cheered as servants rushed to carry him to his bedchamber.

"Well, Lotho sure knows how to end a party," said Adrianna.

Balthus watched the servants straining with effort as they carried away the rotund Duke. "I had to do that many times until I learned to pass out before Lotho." Balthus shook his head. "That is one time it doesn't pay to be the last man standing."

Dieya stood, held up his wine cup and raised his voice. "In the Duke's absence, I would like to finish the toast," he said. "To a good day's work!" He gestured to Balthus and Adrianna. The crowd cheered and raised their cups.

Balthus stood and raised his wine cup. "To absent friends." He drank his cup dry. Dieya nodded and followed suit. Cries of "Hear, hear," flowed around the hall.

Adrianna stood and took Balthus' arm. "Will we see you at breakfast tomorrow, Dieya?" she asked.

"Yes. I will wish to give my complements to the Duke before I leave."

"You'd better plan on sleeping late if you want to see Lotho," laughed Balthus. "See you on the morrow then."

CHAPTER 30

The walk to the core's bottom floor was uneventful but fascinating for Commlead Haridep. The immensity of the core made her feel like she was in a building rather than on a spaceship. The frightening dark shadows of the upper levels gave way to lights illuminating the bottom level. The closer they came to the lowest level, the emptier the chamber became. All the equipment above was narrowing, its focus pointing toward the well-lit center of the floor.

Each forward step replaced some of her fear with curiosity and wonder. Every new level revealed more unfamiliar machinery hanging beside them. Her Kraken training was limited to few real hard facts and many suppositions. This machinery was beyond comprehension. The scale alone was hard to conceive.

Her reverie was interrupted by an insightful comment from Strikedag Tanner.

"Hey Commlead, any idea what all this Kraken crap is for?"

One man's treasure... she thought. "No, Strikedag. Perhaps we will know more when we reach the bottom."

Stopping at the end of the ramp, they stared across the huge expanse of floor and then upward. It was an imposing sight. The equipment on the bottom level was at the center of the immense expanse. There was a small control panel next to what appeared to be an eight-foot-high silver egg standing on its end. The entire mass of equipment above funneled down to this one object.

"Man, whatever that does, it must be impressive to need all that support," said Lancelead Grey.

"You are correct, Lancelead. I must remind you both to touch nothing until I examine it," said the Commlead.

"Not a problem, Ma'am," said the Strikedag, looking above him as they neared the egg. "No way in hell I'm touching anything here. Wouldn't want to make this whole thing fall down."

Commlead Haridep stopped in her tracks as she visualized the mountain of machinery over her head. "Thanks, Strikedag," she said, shooting him a glance, "but I really didn't need that image." As they advanced to the center of the room, she couldn't stop herself from glancing upward occasionally.

"I can't believe they don't know we are here," said the Lancelead. "This is too easy." He flipped his laser's safety off.

The strikedag did the same. "Could be a trap."

"No. I don't believe so," said the Commlead, raising a cautionary hand. "Remember. The Cross wasn't operational. There wasn't anything aboard. The ship may have detected the hole we cut and sealed it as a matter of maintenance." She gestured to the egg. "I'm sure they wouldn't want us to see that."

The strikedag gave her a half-nod of acquiescence.

They approached cautiously. The two marines fanned out on either side of the Commlead and peered into the far corners of the core, weapons at the ready. The silver egg was more imposing than it had been at a distance, perhaps because it was the obvious focus of the lights and mass of machinery suspended above it. The egg shone with a beckoning patina of mystery and power.

She bent to examine the control as the Lancelead reached out a hand to the silver egg. "I wouldn't touch that, Lancelead. You never know what might activate it." The Lancelead snatched back his hand as if burned.

Commlead Haridep closely examined the silver egg, then turned to the control panel. It had markings on the panel similar to the ones in the fire control center, but not enough to translate. "These controls," she remarked to no one in particular, "are different from those we found in the Cross's legs. Those panels had only machine interface couplings. This has one as well, but there are also surface controls – push buttons."

"Why is that unusual, Ma'am?" asked the Lancelead.

"Well, to push a button you need a finger, a device much less accurate than an electronic pulse."

"Ma'am," said the Strikedag, "are you suggesting that this control panel was made for human fingers?"

"No, Strikedag. I just find it interesting. The suppositions will come later, believe me." She remembered the droids sealing the core and had a thought. "Lancelead, can your suit give you a readout of the atmosphere in this room?" she asked.

"Why yes, Ma'am." He blinked rapidly for several seconds and announced, "It's a total vacuum... with a trace of argon gas." He glanced at the Commlead. "Why, Ma'am? What were you thinking?"

"I thought perhaps this chamber might have a breathable environment."

"Right now a roomful of air, a juicy fakesteak, a cot and a brew would make me a happy marine," said the Strikedag. He lowered a knee to the floor.

"Commlead," said Lancelead. "Do you have any idea as to what we should do?"

"We have several options, Lancelead." She gestured to the Strikedag. "None of them includes Strikedag Tanner's fantasy, though." She paused in thought. "We can cut our way out and try to take over this ship. Might be difficult to do with just the three of us. I'm sure the ship has battle droids and I don't like the idea of alerting them that we are here. We could sit tight and wait for rescue. That's assuming the fleet will come rescue us instead of blowing this dreadnought out of the sky. Or, we could play with this control panel and see what the egg does. It might do something that would help."

"I don't like any of those ideas, Commlead, but I think the best one is taking over the ship," said the Lancelead.

"Strikedag Common Sense," said Commlead Haridep, "what are your views on the subject, besides dreams of fakesteak and brew?"

"Well, Ma'am..." He hesitated for a moment, considering. She bet he would be stroking his chin if he didn't have his battlesuit helmet on. "I think you should play with the egg. I'm sure it won't blow up if you touch the buttons, but if it does, we might take out a Kraken dreadnought. A pretty fair exchange, I'm thinking." He shrugged. "If nothing comes of the egg, then we can try to take over the ship. If we try to do the reverse and get burned down by a battle droid, we will never have the chance to see if the egg can help us."

"A good summary, Strikedag," she said. "Lancelead?"

"Egg," he said, nodding.

"Egg," echoed the Strikedag.

"Good," she said. "I've been dying to push a few buttons." She studied the panel. The four large ones she was certain did something major, the smaller ones grouped nearest each were probably parameters. She tried to deduce which button might be the correct one to try first, but in the end chose one at random. She turned to the others. "Ready gentlemen?" The Strikedag rose to his feet and unracked his laser rifle. The Lancelead followed suit.

As she reached out a hand, her mouth suddenly went dry and she felt her pulse pounding in her neck. She took a deep breath and pushed the first button.

The button lit. She waited, but nothing happened. With all this gigantic machinery overhead, she had expected something amazing, something incredible. The lack of a response emboldened her. "Let me try a smaller button," she said and pressed the first button in the row. The button glowed but still nothing happened in the room.

"Talk about anti-climactic," said the Lancelead.

"Let me try another," said Commlead Haridep. She reversed the process and the button lights went out.

She pressed the second button.

Immediately the lights in the room grew brighter and they could feel a vibration coming from the floor through the soles of their feet.

"Something's happening!" said the Lancelead. Strikedag Tanner backed away from the group and scanned the area, laser rifle at the ready. They remained poised for fight or flight for five minutes, but nothing else happened.

Lancelead Grey let out a sigh. "If that was meant to get my blood pressure up, it worked."

"Wait a second," said the Strikedag, racking his laser. He walked back to the group and blinked rapidly. "A low level atmosphere is building up in here." He blinked more. "Nitrogen seventy eight percent, oxygen twenty-two percent, various other trace gases. This room is filling with breathable stuff. We already have a one-sixteenth atmosphere in here."

"Commlead Haridep, can you press the button again and see if it stops, please?" requested the Lancelead.

"Is there a good reason why, Lancelead?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. If we have to break out of here for the takeover of the ship scenario, I don't want to do it from an atmosphere to a vacuum. A large pressure leak might activate another droid crew."

"Good thinking, Sir," said the Strikedag. "Do it, Ma'am. Do it, do it."

Commlead Haridep pressed the button again. The vibrations ceased and the light on the button went out. The Strikedag started blinking again. "Looks like that's the cutoff switch all right. The pressure is not rising. Sir," he said to the Lancelead, "if you lend me your O2 filter pack, I can suck some oxygen out of this atmosphere and top off our tanks."

The Lancelead nodded and handed him his pack. "Good idea, Strikedag," said the Lancelead. "If you think of anything else, sing out – in your rich baritone, of course."

The Strikedag laughed. "If the Commlead hits the brew button next, you'll hear me sing out loud and clear."

"Let's try button number three," said Commlead Haridep.

"Just a minute, if you will, Ma'am. I'd like to finish topping off our tanks." The Strikedag proceeded to fill all their oxygen tanks to max. When finished, he nodded. "Go ahead Ma'am, press the brew button."

She smiled and pressed the third button. A flash of light burst out from the silver egg. It split vertically, the front half of the shell sliding backwards inside the rear. The process happened so quickly everyone jumped back. No one moved or said a word, they just stared. Labored breathing was the only sound on the comm channel.

Commlead Haridep's mind flashed again on her alien studies anthropology instructor at the academy. "Any machine reflects the organism it was designed for," he had said.

Sitting inside the open silver egg was a white, fully padded, contour seat that could only have been made for a human.

CHAPTER 31

Adrianna awakened slowly. She reached across to the other side of the bed but Balthus wasn't there. She yawned, sat up and stretched. Balthus was standing naked in front of the open window, his hands high on the side jambs, eyes closed, taking slow deep breaths. Sunlight streamed in through the window. She enjoyed the sight of his muscular body for a moment before speaking.

"Are you trying to hold up the wall or impress the neighbors?" she asked.

Balthus inhaled deeply once more, but kept his eyes shut. "It's such a beautiful morning. I was awakened by wonderful smells. The warm sun is evaporating the dew from the grass; a farmer to the south is plowing his field as I smell freshly turned dirt; and best of all, the cook is making fried boarback – cooked crisp just the way I like it." He turned toward her and opened his eyes. "Let's get dressed before it's all gone," he said.

"How about a hug first," she said, throwing off the covers to reveal that she, too, was naked.

Balthus grinned. "I'm sure the cook will save me a piece," he said as he jumped back into bed.

Later, as Balthus massaged her back, Adrianna posed the question she'd been mulling over. "Balthus, what do you want to do today? Shall we move on or move in? Move over... more to the left. Aahh, that's it."

"Hmm, you seem to have a knot there. Let me work on it," he said, putting his large knuckle on the spot. "I don't know what to do. It does feel like we are done here and we would just be in the way of Lotho's cleanup efforts around the castle. The more work he has to supervise, the less he drinks. I love Lotho like a brother, but the man's got to find a better hobby."

"Ouch, not so hard!" said Adrianna with a jump. "Rub around the knot a little."

"Sorry," he murmured. "Perhaps we could go to Freetown and see what's new at the Merchants' Fair. I might suggest a boat trip to Steradam to see the folks, but... that gets dull in a hurry."

"You're not worried that your sister is still mad at you for that tapestry, are you?" Adrianna rolled over, sat behind Balthus and began to massage his huge shoulders.

"How could I know that it would burn so fast?" he asked. "I still say it was defective linen." He shook his head. "No, we don't need to go there. Besides, she might still be mad."

He rolled his head in a circle enjoying the massage. "Dieya has caught my interest. I wonder if he needs any help straightening out the world. Seems a job I'm totally suited for – not to mention the acclaim."

"I know what you mean," she said. "Yesterday's work was very satisfying. Perhaps we could help out more. Let's dress and ask him."

"Yes, unless he's eaten all the boarback – then he can forget it," said Balthus. Adrianna hit him with a pillow and he fell to the floor.

A pensive Dieya sat on the main tower's portico, warming himself in the morning sun and eating a ripe aplin. Though the morning was wonderful, he frowned. Who had implanted the Krill into the Baron, and when? He had double-checked the satellite sensors, and the only off-world dimgate activation had been during his return to Ravar several months ago. This was not the usual Kraken mode of operation. One option was to wait and see, and he hated to do that. It was better to stay one jump ahead of the Kraken or they would crush him.

He pondered his options as the sun warmed the stones.

Balthus and Adrianna stood in the tower doorway and watched Dieya for a moment. "There's another man who needs to get a better hobby. You would think he would be in a carefree mood this morning, with the Krill dead and all," mused Balthus.

"He looks worried about something," said Adrianna.

"He's just an old mother hen. Let's go bring some joy into his life with our presence. It's a beautiful day, and that should be pointed out to him."

Hand-in-hand, they crossed the portico.

"Good morning, Dieya," said Balthus. "Did you get bad news or do you have a bad head from last night's wine? A man should be happy on a beautiful morning like this one."

Dieya looked up and forced a smile. "Good morning, gentle people. Sorry for the dark looks. I was just thinking."

"Thinking bad thoughts, no doubt, to wear an expression like that. Look at this glorious day. There will be time enough for those thoughts later." Balthus gestured skyward. "Now you should enjoy the warmth of the sun."

"Yes, Dieya, you should look at the bright side," added Adrianna. "The Krill is dead, Lotho's castle saved and you're among friends. What could be wrong?"

Dieya still appeared lost in thought. "The Krill shouldn't have been here in the first place. That's what's bothering me. That, and the fact that it arrived here without my knowledge. This is not good. I've seen this before. They have tried subtlety, next they usually try force. It isn't pretty." He looked out over the fields, reflecting on something other than the wind-swaying trees.

Balthus and Adrianna exchanged glances, then Balthus shrugged. "Be that as it may, come, join us for breakfast." Balthus pulled Dieya to his feet and patted him on the back. "Maybe we can help solve your problems." They walked to the doorway flanking Dieya, determined to raise him from his somber mood.

"You didn't eat all the boarback now, did you, Dieya?" asked Balthus.

"I do not consume animal flesh," said Dieya, still distracted.

"Excellent, excellent. Then we surely will be able to help."

Bursting into laughter, Balthus and Adrianna led a perplexed sorcerer down the stairs.

CHAPTER 32

The white padded chair sat in the half-opened silver pod. It had armrests and a small indentation where the head would rest. A light, shining from inside the top of the egg, gave the chair the appearance of a throne. Strikedag Tanner broke the stunned silence with a loud sigh. "Well, I can get a room full of air, and here's my cot. The other button's gotta be fakesteak and brew."

"This is monumental," said the Commlead, oblivious to the Strikedag's remark. "Do the Kraken have human form? Are they something more than a robotic race?"

As a little girl, Janelle was frightened into being good by the very real specter of a Kraken boogeyman. The unknown held unimaginable fears, but now as she examined the pod, the enemy became something tangible, something real.

Something that could be defeated.

"More likely this machine does something to the human unlucky enough to be stuck in it," said the Lancelead, gripping his rifle hard.

"What?" She pulled herself from realizations and had to replay his words before shaking her head. "No. There are no restraining straps. It would have to be a willing participant."

"Drugs? Brain burn?" suggested the Strikedag. "I don't know what it is, but I don't think sitting in that chair is one of our options, no matter how comfy it looks." He took a step backwards.

The Commlead examined the chair more closely. "There is a single button on the side of the right armrest. There are no other controls in the pod that I can see."

"Run by blink technology?" suggested the Lancelead.

"Perhaps," she answered, "but the external control panel should reflect that. And if blink technology is in use, why the single button on the armrest? No, I believe this is exactly as you see it."

"Ma'am, I still don't see sitting in that chair and pushing the button as an option," said the Strikedag. "Besides, that giant pile of machinery up there is focused on this chair, and it doesn't seem to be running. I can't see this much equipment running silently."

"I agree Strikedag, it's not running. Perhaps that's what the chair button does. Anyway, we still have another button on the control panel. Let's see what it does." She stepped to the control panel. "Ready, gentlemen?"

The Strikedag glanced at his laser rifle charge and nodded, and the Lancelead gave her a thumbs up.

She pressed the fourth button.

Ten feet in front of the chair, directly next to the Strikedag, a streak of red light flashed and a loud crack sounded in their helmets. The Strikedag was knocked several feet into the air and landed heavily on the floor. The others jumped back from the expanding red glow. The luminescence grew to be roughly door shaped, four feet wide by eight feet high. It began fading in brightness. The Lancelead rushed to the Strikedag, who was just getting to his feet. "Strikedag! Are you all right?"

"Yes Sir, I'm OK. I think it was just my bad luck to be in the same location as that force field when it was activated."

The red luminescence winked out, replaced by a blue swirling glow.

"Dimgate!" yelled the Lancelead. "Commlead, draw your weapon and go behind the egg. Strikedag, to the left!" The Lancelead knelt on the right side of the egg as the others quickly moved into position. "Prepare for assault!" he shouted, his voice tight. Strikedag Tanner dropped to the floor and trained his laser at the center of the swirling blue gateway.

Commlead Haridep fought the anxiety in her stomach and forced herself to relax. Rationality returned with a few deep breaths and she holstered her laser.

"Hold on, everyone. Stop. Lancelead – think about it. The Kraken have the same dimgate technology that we do. On small dims like this, the gate forms only on the side initiating the dim. This is a gate to somewhere, not from somewhere. We initiated this gate. The force-field was a safety zone created so no one would be near the dimgate when it formed."

The marines lowered their weapons.

"Ah crsylak," said the Strikedag, "now my suit has more to recycle." He racked his weapon and rose from the floor.

"I wonder where it leads," mused the Commlead as she approached the blue shimmering gate.

The Lancelead shouted, "NO!" and yanked her back from the opening.

"Easy, Lancelead, I was just examining it." She shook off his arm and glared at him. "I wouldn't go through it! This is a Kraken dimgate. It probably leads to a Kraken ship or world. That's not the place I'd want to be. At least not without a few hundred thousand more of your brothers in arms, anyway."

"Sorry, Ma'am," he said. "I guess I'm a little tense right now."

"You're tense?" said the Strikedag. "I suggest we take a break, eat some food and munch a stress tab. We need to relax. We should have clear heads to make some decisions, now that we know all our options, Sirs."

"All the options, Strikedag?" said the Lancelead.

"Yes Sir, options. We have only three that I can see. Ship, chair or gate. Can't see anything else."

"Strikedag Tanner is correct," said Commlead Haridep. "Unless you want to add 'do nothing' to the list, and that's not really an option. I vote for the gate if we're voting," she added, looking at the Lancelead.

"Sorry again, Ma'am, but I can't see it as the first option. If we take over the ship we'd have the ship, the core and the gate. That seems to be the first priority, Ma'am."

"Right you are, Lancelead." She put her gloved hand on his shoulder next to his shoulder-mounted rocker launcher. "I'm glad you're here to put some restraint on my over-zealous nature."

"No problem, Ma'am. The Dagger's right, though. We need to rest before breaking out of here. We've had a twenty-mile hike and have been at a high stress level for a long period. I suggest an hour break before we try to take over the ship. Put your suits on body diagnostics, and let them give you what you need." The Commlead and Strikedag nodded and the trio sank to the floor.

A battle suit was a self-contained system, made for protection in all environments. It was a marvelous combination of Gless and human technology and Commlead Haridep couldn't wait to get out of hers.

"How do you marines stand to be in these suits for so long?" asked the Commlead. "The longest I've been in a suit was eighteen hours, and once I got it off, I took the longest shower of my life."

"It's easy, Ma'am, we're marines," said the Strikedag, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, Ma'am," said the Lancelead. "Part of a marine's basic training is to live in his suit for a tenday. During that time, he is plunged into several different environments – water, gas, fire, slime and vacuum, all with no sleep. He has to fight in each environment, visually and using instruments."

"Sounds tough," she said.

The Strikedag nodded. "Yeah, the ones that can't make it through 'hell ten' get sent home to mama," he said around a mouthful of green paste.

"How long have you been in the marines, Strikedag?" she asked.

"All my life, Ma'am," he answered.

"Surely you had some time before the marines," she laughed. "Where were you born?"

"Excuse me, Ma'am," said Lancelead Grey, "but Alliance Marine Strikedags aren't born. The Corps reproduces them using fission, like all bacteria."

The Strikedag grinned. "How about you, Ma'am?" he asked. "You always been in intelligence?"

"Goodness, no. I've always been fascinated by other cultures, the ones developing after the Diaspora and especially the ones that have developed on their own. I wrote a book about the similarity between the Abulax Four colony and the independently evolved people and culture on Sibulos Three. It was a big hit on the blink-nets." She felt her cheeks flush and she looked down. "Well – in some circles." She shrugged. "Anyway, someone in HALBureau read it and offered me a job in research. I jumped at the chance. I went through Alien Intelligence School and here I am. I've been at it less than two years."

"You must be pretty good to make Commlead in such a short time," said the Lancelead.

"Well," she said, "there aren't a lot of us, and you know the HALBureau. They have to fill their command slots or it makes them nervous."

"Ma'am, maybe you can answer a question for me," said the Strikedag. "How come there are so many different worlds with humans on them? I mean, the ones before the colonization period. I heard one fellow spouting a theory that humans had space travel long ago and that's why they are found throughout the galaxy. His idea was that an interstellar war broke out among humans and everybody was reduced to sticks and stones. What do you think about that theory?"

"No, I doubt it, Strikedag. We have absolutely no evidence of anything like that happening. The Gless have stated, if we have understood them correctly, that they seeded the universe with humans on suitable planets, then left them alone to develop."

"Don't you think we should bring these underdeveloped planets up to our level of technology and use them to fight in the Kraken war?" asked Lancelead Grey.

"No, I totally agree with Alliance policy on that. Tossing technology at an underdeveloped planet is like giving a comp-gun to a baby. The culture needs time to come to a social level where they can handle it. It's safer for them, and safer for us. Can you imagine a culture focused on conquest given dimgates and lasers? They need to develop on their own." She took a sip of water from the tube inside her helmet. "We do keep tabs on them though. Any underdeveloped planets are under the observance of the Dieya Corps."

The Strikedag nodded. "Yeah, ran across a dieya once... But tell me, why do the Kraken pound a planet to slag just to make sure all the humans are dead, but ignore planets with no human lifeforms?" The Strikedag spread his hands. "Why do the Kraken hate us? I can't see the logic, nor the Gless not stepping in. They helped us out two-hundred-fifty years ago when it looked like the Kraken would remove us from the universe and then they just stepped aside."

"No one knows why the Kraken have set out to exterminate us," she said. "The Gless alluded to the reasons but we haven't figured it out."

"What do you think the Gless' motivations are?" asked the Lancelead.

The Commlead smiled. "We can barely communicate with the Gless. In the vids I've seen, they appear as a glowing light with bright, gaseous wings. Stepping down a dimension must be uncomfortable for them. They never stay long. Trying to get them to give us their social history, which drives motives, would be difficult and we probably wouldn't understand their reasons anyway. The Gless are not just some technologically advanced humans. That's the first thing you learn when studying them. You simply cannot apply any human emotions, goals or ideals to their actions. And if you do attribute one of their actions to a human motivation, you will invariably be wrong."

"Sounds remarkably like my mother-in-law," said the Lancelead with a grimace.

"You're contracted, Lancelead?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said and smiled. "Just after I entered the Corps." He stared into the distance for a second, then blinked twice.

A green light appeared on the Commlead's HUD screen. She blink activated it and a picture displayed in her eye of the Lancelead in dress uniform and a young woman in the bridal outfit of a Quaralis native. "Ah, I see. She's beautiful."

The Strikedag, who had also received the image, nodded.

"Do you also come from the Quaralis system, Lancelead?" she asked.

"Thank you, Ma'am. Yes, born and raised. Childhood sweethearts. We've been married for three years now," he said smiling, obviously looking at the same picture. "You, Ma'am? Are you contracted?"

"Me? Goodness, no. I've never had the time or inclination. How about you, Strikedag?"

The Strikedag snorted and rolled his eyes upward in thought. "Well, I've been contracted a bunch of times over the last twenty years. In fact, now that you mention it, I think I still might be contracted on the Condar system to a girl I met when I was stationed there. It just didn't work out." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure how long the contract was." He stared off into space for a second and blinked rapidly. "Yep, still contracted." His eyes closed. "I should do something about that," he said pensively.

"Gentlemen," said the Commlead, "we might be together for a while. How about we address each other using our names instead of rank, at least for informal discussions such as this. My first name is Janelle." She looked expectantly at each of them.

"It's not the Marine's way, Ma'am," said the Lancelead. He pursed his lips and looked to the Strikedag. "But under the circumstances..." He shrugged. "I'm Bobek, usually called Bo."

"Rorramul," said the Strikedag. "Call me Rory."

"Well," said the Lancelead, blinking up his chronometer. "Are we ready to take over this ship?"

The Strikedag nodded but fear filled Janelle and she couldn't look him in the eye.

The Lancelead studied her a moment. "Commlead, did I hear you say that you have no combat experience?"

"Correct, Lancelead, I don't. But I do hold a gold ring in Denwabi. I find it good exercise."

The Lancelead nodded to her with grudging respect. A person had to be very good to earn a gold Denwabi ring.

"No offense Ma'am," said the Strikedag, "but don't try to use any martial arts on a battle droid. They have no pressure points. If you can't blast it to bits, run."

"Don't worry Strikedag, I'm ready to run now."

The Lancelead held up a hand. "You did fine with the D-twenty-nines. You'll do fine here." He looked at the Strikedag. "How about cutting us a way out of here?"

"Yes, Sir. I think I'll cut the hole opposite from the side we came in on."

The Lancelead nodded. "Let's do it."

Commlead Haridep watched the bright laser light cutting through the last several inches of the panel. Her dread increased the closer it came to completion with the laser like a burning fuse that would explode her into something horrible. Her imagination crowded the unknown beyond the panel with every holovid monster that had ever frightened her as a child.

The Strikedag glanced up. "Almost through, Sir." The blue glow from the cutting laser flickered on his face. "The atmosphere in this room has leaked out. It's all vacuum on the other side, so we shouldn't have any problem going out."

"Right, Strikedag. Keep at it, and be ready when the panel goes down. Commlead, ready your weapon and stand over here," said the Lancelead. He chuckled. "I want us all on the same side of the opening."

The Strikedag flicked off his laser and the blue light faded. The panel hung by a thin strand of metal. At the Lancelead's nod, the Strikedag kicked the panel down and leaped sideways. He squatted, gave a quick peek around the edge and pulled back. "Dim lights. No movement. Wide, flat, open area." He stood and repeated his motion, taking a longer look. "Nothing, Sir. It looks empty."

The Lancelead nodded and gave an order as old as war. "Then let's go. Do you want to live forever?"

The Strikedag answered with the typical grunt's response. "Yes. Yes, Sir, I do." He leaped through, moving to the left of the opening.

The Lancelead followed, moved to the right and knelt on one knee. He glanced at his wrist-readout. "No movement, and no heat spots. Commlead, come out and stay five meters behind me, weapon on safe."

Commlead Haridep's stomach churned with conflicting emotions made worse by lunch from a tube. She was anxious to see inside a Kraken ship, but the possibility of impending combat was making her queasy.

Inhaling deeply, she stepped through the opening into a vast empty area. The size of the Dreadnought's bay was unbelievable. It easily could have held several Cross cores. Feeling like an ant about to be squashed, she glanced up fearfully. In such a large area, the lack of movement and the vacuum silence felt surreal.

The docking bay's dim lighting came from glowing panels, evenly spaced in the ceiling and walls. She guessed the far bulkhead to be about a half-mile away. One-hundred-foot-wide ramps lined both sides of the bay leading from the floor of the bay to one-third of the way up the far bulkhead wall.

"Strikedag," said the Lancelead, "no sense using stealth. Let's get out of this open area, pronto."

"Aye aye, Sir. Right ramp?"

"Yes. Go."

They trotted easily in the bay's less-than-one gee. They reached the top without incident, but the Commlead still couldn't shake the feeling that she was a bug in a giant's playroom.

The Strikedag looked down over the edge of the ramp. "It looks like there is a giant door at floor level. They probably move the larger stuff through there at null gravity and only use these little ramps for smaller stuff when the gravity pods are on."

"These are little ramps, Strikedag?" asked the Commlead.

"Relative size, Ma'am, relative. The Kraken never seem to do anything small."

The ramps ended at double doors that were the same width as the ramps and about fifty feet high.

The Strikedag examined the side wall. "Sir. There is a smaller access door over here." He knelt down and opened his tool kit. "It has an electronic interface. This passageway is probably used only by repair droids."

"Can you bypass the controls?" asked the Commlead.

The hatch door suddenly slid open. "Yes, Ma'am."

The Lancelead gestured down the hall. "As before – Strikedag in the lead." They entered the passageway.

After the docking bay, Commlead Haridep felt claustrophobic in this dimly lit, eight-foot square, featureless corridor. It ran long and straight, and vanished into the distance.

"Let's move quickly down this hall," said the Lancelead. "We'll check any doors off the passageway, but this is a real bad place to be caught in a firefight,"

The Strikedag was already moving rapidly down the hall but picked up his pace. Stopping at a side door one-hundred yards down the corridor, he knelt and reached into his tool kit. He had the door opened by the time the others reached him. They entered and stood on a catwalk overlooking a massive area filled with dozens of large stacked bins. The Strikedag held up his arm and clenched a fist. The Lancelead froze, as did the Commlead.

"Motion on the floor," whispered the Strikedag, gesturing slowly downward with one finger.

A half-dozen large lifting droids were on the floor moving open metal crates into bins. Another droid rolled toward the main doorway carrying a metal crate. Its load gave off a shiny glint as the droid left.

"Raw materials department," said the Strikedag. "That one we saw was carrying an armload of gold. They must manufacture everything they need, getting the raw materials from asteroids. Not much we can do here, Sir."

"Copy that, Strikedag. Let's return to the passageway."

They traveled about a quarter of a mile down the access corridor and found five more storage compartments, each void of activity. The sixth doorway opened to a larger hallway that ran perpendicular to the corridor.

"Good," said the Lancelead. "Hopefully this will take us to the center of the ship."

They were five-hundred feet into the larger corridor when the Strikedag found an electronic interface in the floor near the right wall. "I can't see any door frame here, Sir. I can't tell whether it opens a panel or does something else."

"Give it a try."

The Strikedag knelt, pried off the panel, and got to work.

Without warning, a two-hundred-foot section of the side wall slid open, leaving them exposed on a narrow balcony overlooking a cavernous room. Everyone froze.

Flashing, silver motion filled the room. Parallel rails running from floor to ceiling stretched out into the distance. Robot arms attached to the rails moved with jerky assembly line movements. The scene resembled a blurring silver wall of motion in the distance. Laser welders flashed from centipede arms inside compartments and droids placed components into other components in a mad whirl of motion.

The Commlead recognized a component on the nearest assembly line as a missile guidance system. Most of the other constructions were unfathomable.

"Don't move," she said. "I don't think they've noticed us." As the words left her mouth and with perfect precision, every robot in the room ceased its movement.

"They have now," said the Strikedag.

"Remain still," said the Commlead. "Perhaps this is a planned shutdown."

"Motion on the far side catwalk," said the Strikedag. Something disappeared behind a large assembly section about two hundred feet away. They froze until it reappeared.

"Battle droids!" yelled the Lancelead. "Back! Back!" Laser fire struck the wall behind them and they scrambled toward the outer hallway. Strikedag Tanner flicked an EMP device from his belt, then lobbed an anti-personnel grenade down onto the assembly room floor. The APG exploded, tossing out small BB-sized high explosives that in turn exploded when they hit something solid. The Strikedag didn't wait around for the spectacular cascading effect. He ran for the door.

Lancelead Grey's long legs got him to the hallway first and he stepped sideways to cover the others' retreat. He launched a motion-seeking missile from his shoulder harness in the direction of the battle droids. As the others went through the door, he turned and followed.

The Strikedag was already fixing a detonation charge to the door. "Run!" he yelled. "We've got to slow them up. Go! I'll be right behind you!"

The officers ran down the long hallway. Fear lent speed to Commlead Haridep's steps and she matched the Lancelead stride for stride. She glanced back at the Strikedag; he was one-hundred yards behind them and running flat out.

Quick breaths echoed in her helmet. She ran on. The access door was steps away when the charge went off. The blast was recognizable only as a flash of light and a vibration in the floor.

The two officers hurried through the bay access door and took up defensive positions. Smoke and twisted debris filled the hallway behind the Strikedag, and he was gripping his upper arm and running slowly. The image of Blade Redrick's death flashed through Janelle's mind, but she forced it away.

"Go! Try the chair!" yelled the Lancelead. "You should have a few moments. The Strikedag and I will be there as fast as we can." The Lancelead grabbed her arm. "Wait for us before trying the dimgate unless we don't make it."

She hesitated and he shoved her toward the core. He began setting up demolition charges on the access door. The Commlead ran down the ramp as fast as she could. Reaching the bay floor she glanced back and saw the Strikedag burst through the door and collapse. She ran on, fighting her fear by focusing on the chair.

The chair. What would it do? When she reached the core opening, she turned and saw the Lancelead working on the Strikedag's arm. Hoping that he wasn't badly hurt she ducked through the hole and ran across the open floor to the egg.

The Strikedag cursed every time he had breath to do it. A piece of shrapnel had slashed his arm. The wound didn't bother him too much. His battle suit had taken care of the laceration, but the hole in his suit was too big for the autosealer to fix. He didn't mind dying – everyone goes sometime – but dying in a vacuum was nasty business.

The Lancelead finished patching the Strikedag's suit and checked the external readouts. He gave a thumbs up then glanced down the wreckage-strewn hallway. "You bought us some time." He helped the Strikedag to his feet and propelled him down the ramp. As they ran, Lancelead Grey tossed thumb-sized proximity mines behind him.

They had reached the bottom of the ramp when a laser beam lanced past their heads. The Strikedag yelled, "Blow the door. Blow the – " The explosion sent particles flying past them, several bouncing off their battle suits. He glanced back at the doorway. It had collapsed. They ran for the core.

Commlead Haridep approached the egg with mounting anxiety. The chair was as they had left it, and the glowing blue gateway still active. She looked up at the mass of machinery and was again awed – what would happen to the person pushing that button?

Should she sit down, then push the button? No, she thought, that's not cautionary. Reaching in, she pushed the button on the chair. She felt a click under her fingers and stepped back. Nothing. She waited for a moment more. Still nothing. "Here goes," she mumbled, and climbed up into the chair. Immediately, she felt like a usurper, sitting on a ruler's throne. She held her breath and pushed the button under her finger, feeling it click.

Nothing.

She waited several seconds before pushing it a third time.

Nothing. She sat in the chair and clicked the button as rapidly as she could.

The Lancelead and Strikedag bolted through the opening and ran to join her.

"Push it yet?" asked the Lancelead.

"Yes," she said, climbing off the chair. "Nothing happened. I had such grand illusions..." She glanced up at the massive machinery, then looked at the Strikedag. "How's the arm?"

"Suit medic's working on it – no problems."

A flash of light from the opening caught their attention.

"Proximity mine," said the Strikedag. "They're through the access hatch. I guess we defend or try the gate."

"Strikedag," said the Lancelead, "go through the gate and set up a perimeter on the other side if you can. The Commlead will follow you in twenty seconds."

"Sir, you gonna close the gate?" asked the Strikedag.

"You got it, Strikedag. No one will follow from here."

The Commlead felt her intestines turn to water. "Lancelead! You're not staying behind to close the gate, are you?"

The Lancelead arched an eyebrow. "What? Oh, no. Nothing so heroic, Ma'am. I'm going to set a timer to blow this place to hell after I jump."

She looked up, horrified to think of this mass of incredible machinery as a pile of twisted wreckage. Her team could spend years studying this device. Her heart tightened as she realized that her whole team was dead. She nodded. "Blow it to hell, Lancelead."

Another flash of light filled the opening.

"You'd better move Strikedag. Dim and die!"

"Aye aye, Sir. Dim and die." Strikedag Tanner leaped through the dimgate. For one second he was outlined in a flash of blue, then he was gone.

The Lancelead set two timers on the detonation boxes. He put a small charge on the control panel that would cut off the gate before the larger charge destroyed the chair and anything else in the room. He didn't want any shrapnel following him through the gate. "Time for you to go, Ma'am. Have your weapon ready but on safe. Good luck, Ma'am."

Commlead Haridep stepped through the gate and vanished. The Lancelead activated the timers just as a battle droid appeared at the hole. He launched a rocket at the droid, then leaped.

CHAPTER 33

Duke Lothogorn had the reputation of setting a fine table, and breakfast was no exception. The main table was piled high with warm breads, sweet rolls, cheeses of all types, eggs, fruits and various meats. A servant handed Balthus, Adrianna and Dieya platters as they approached the table.

Balthus eyed the layout of the food and planned his attack. "This is Lotho's idea. You serve yourself." Balthus spoke over his shoulder as they moved down the length of the table. "With people rising at different times, and Lotho not standing on ceremony, this method of eating works well for breakfast." He piled boarback high on his plate.

"Hey," said Adrianna, "take some and move along. Give us a chance at the food. You're supposed to be moving, not grazing."

Balthus looked back at her and piled the boarback even higher. Grinning, he walked to a side table and began eating.

Adrianna and Dieya soon joined him. Dieya's plate merely held a hunk of bread and several pieces of fruit. Balthus pointed at him with a slice of boarback. "You really don't eat animal flesh?" he asked. "Do you mind if we do?"

"It is each man's choice, and not for me to judge. For myself, I prefer not to kill innocent beasts."

"You sure made a mess of that Krill creature though," said Balthus, smiling around a mouthful of bread.

"The Krill aren't God's creatures. They are a twisted abomination... as are some men." Dieya sipped at his watered wine.

"Which leads us to the reason we wanted to talk with you," said Adrianna. "We are at loose ends now, and would like to help you if we can."

"Aye, we are handy to have around and can get things done that need doing!" Balthus brought a fist down on the table and the plates jumped.

Dieya sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and studied Balthus and Adrianna.

"We feel the same way you do about evil and go out of our way to poke it in the eye," said Adrianna.

Dieya leaned forward. "It's good to hear you say that. Sometimes I feel like I'm all..." He studied the bread on his plate.

To break the embarrassing lull, Balthus raised his cup, and loudly called for more wine.

Dieya looked up. "Presently, there is nothing active, but with this Krill business I'm sure that – " He jerked his arm as if stung and deep furrows formed on his brow. Without a word, he stood, walked ten feet away and placed his back to a pillar.

Balthus and Adrianna watched with interest as Dieya pulled a jewel off the amulet on his armband and held it up to his temple. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then he began to blink rapidly.

"Trance of some sort?" asked Balthus.

"Good guess," said Adrianna, "and he doesn't look too happy about whatever happened."

"I'm torn between watching Dieya and getting another rasher of boarback," said Balthus, looking back to the food table.

"It looks as if you won't have time, Love," said Adrianna. Dieya had replaced the jewel in his amulet and was headed back to the table.

"We have tried to cheer you up this morning," said Balthus, "but from the look on your face now, it doesn't seem possible."

Dieya sat down and sighed, rubbing his eyes with gloved fingers. "You are right about that."

"Another Krill?" asked Balthus.

"I don't know. It seems too soon, although perhaps the incidents aren't related. I will have to find out more before knowing for sure."

He stood to leave, then stopped. "I have enjoyed your company. It has been a long time since I found anyone I could call friend. If your wish to help me is sincere, perhaps you might aid me."

Balthus looked at Adrianna and they both nodded.

"Good. Do you have plans to leave the castle today?" asked Dieya

"No. I haven't drank all the wine Lotho owes me," said Balthus

"I will be back in a few hours with some clearer information." Dieya walked away from the table, touched a jewel on his amulet then vanished in a blue glow. A tray clattered to the floor, dropped by a startled servant.

"Well! I simply must find his tailor and jewelry maker," said Adrianna.

Balthus' mouth hung open for a moment, then he closed it with a clop. "I had my doubts when he said how he had arrived here," he said, shaking his head, "but now..."

"It is unsettling," said Adrianna, staring at the spot where Dieya had disappeared.

Balthus grabbed her arms, turned her toward him and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Dieya is dedicated to ridding the world of this evil. His determination is very focused. We have to make sure we don't get caught in the middle."

Adrianna paused, giving it some thought. "You are right," she said, nodding. "Do we want to throw in with him, then?"

Balthus released her and shrugged. "Why not? It seems like something worth doing, and it could be fun. We will just have to protect each other's backs."

"As usual." She smiled and held up a fist.

"As usual." He smiled and tapped her fist with his. His smile became one of pain as he looked over to the main table.

"What's wrong?" asked Adrianna.

"They cleared away the rest of the boarback," he whined.

"Oh, poor dear!" she said patting his cheek. "How about we go over to the armory and practice that axe move you showed me last week."

Balthus nodded with pleasure. "Against an axeman, the first thing to notice is if he is right or left handed. Did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fight with a left handed axeman? He had only three fingers on his right hand and was missing an ear..."

His voice trailed off as they left the hall.

Dieya appeared in his cave and walked to the concealed access door. The eye scan finished and the door opened with a snap. He hurried to his desk and touched several glowing buttons. He took a jewel from his amulet, held it to his temple, then blinked rapidly at first, then only occasionally. After several minutes, he removed the jewel. "A small, off-world dimgate," he said quietly. He sat awhile in contemplation, his face creased with worry. Then, reaching a decision, he stood, touched the amulet on his arm and vanished in a blue glow.

CHAPTER 34

"No. Bring the axe handle up higher before you snap it around. It will give you more power." Balthus demonstrated the move, then relaxed. He was breathing deeply, sweat lining his brow. Adrianna stood bent over at the waist, hands on her knees, gasping for air.

"Enough," she said. "The axe will never be my weapon of choice."

"And if you have no choice?" he asked. "'The more thou sweatest in toils, –' "

"I know, I know. 'The less ye bleedest from foils.'" She laughed. "Let's take a break. I could use a drink."

They put away their weapons and walked to the well. Balthus drew up a bucket and handed a ladle-full to Adrianna. The rest he dumped over his head. He pursed his lips and blew, sending a spray into the air.

Adrianna laughed.

"What are you laughing about, Lass?" he asked.

"You reminded me of a sea walang with your hair and beard all wet and blowing out spray, that's all."

"Walang, is it? You look like something I can make squeal like a walang!" He dropped the bucket and grabbed her. Wrapping his arms around her, he dug his fingers into her ribs. "Who's a walang, huh?"

"Stop tickling!" She laughed and fought his embrace. "Stop," she said, "or I'll have to hurt you!"

"Hurt me? Ha!" He lifted her into the air and shook droplets off of his wet hair. "That will be the – " He looked over her shoulder and lowered her to the ground.

Dieya was crossing the yard with determined strides.

"Look alive now, Lass. Here comes Blackie with another castle for us to storm, sure as rain."

"Balthus," she said, tugging his hair to get his attention, "just remember your own words. Don't get caught up in his zeal." Balthus smiled and gave her a resounding wet kiss.

"It's good to see you two enjoying life," said Dieya, as he reached them. "I guess that's what it's all about in the end anyway."

"You look better than when you left here, Dieya. I hope the news is good," said Balthus.

Dieya's smile lessened. "Well, it wasn't the bad news I thought it was, but it still gives me some cause for concern. If you gentle folk are still willing to aid me, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Ask away, friend Dieya," said Adrianna.

"Yes, ask away. We can always tell you no, loudly or softly," Balthus said. "So whose throat needs cutting?"

Dieya smiled. "Nothing so zestful my friend, and I'm not sure yet what needs doing, but it does lie in the direction of Freetown. Would you two consider traveling to Freetown to await further word?"

"Freetown? Now? During the Season of Flowers Festival?" asked Balthus.

"Freetown? Now? During the Merchants' Fair?" asked Adrianna. They looked at each other then back to Dieya.

"NO!" they chimed in unison, and broke up into fits of laughter.

Bewilderment flashed over Dieya's face.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Balthus patted Dieya's shoulder. "Yes, yes, we'll go. We're just having a little fun at your expense. You seem well able to afford the price, and the Great Maker knows you need some humor."

Dieya shook his head and sighed. "I fear you two will be the death of me."

"I hope not. You're paying for this trip," said Balthus. "And I warn you, Adrianna has expensive tastes."

"I can see that," said Dieya. "She's with you, after all."

"Exactly! Uh, that is, – Uh, I'm not sure how to take that," said Balthus. It was his turn to look perplexed and Dieya's turn to laugh.

"Will we be traveling by luse or flash of light?" asked Adrianna.

"Luses. I'm afraid the magic only works for me."

"That's good, or you'd have to hear our chorus of 'No' again," said Balthus.

"When do you need us in Freetown?" asked Adrianna.

"As soon as possible I'd say, though I don't know for sure. It will take me some magic, and several days of hard walking to go where I need to be. It will take you at least that long to get to Freetown, so the timing will be about right."

"Will it take you several days to get back to Freetown?" asked Balthus.

"No, it will take me but an instant. I have been there many times."

"I see," said Balthus, furrowing his brow in thought. Then he raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Well, join us for lunch. We'll discuss the details and we'll leave on the morrow."

"No, thank you. I've just had breakfast and must be on my way. For now, there aren't any details I can share," said Dieya.

"Breakfast was hours ago, man. You must keep up your strength," said Balthus.

"I will, but I must go now. If you folks will excuse me..." He walked several paces away and vanished.

"No wonder the man is so thin," said Adrianna. "He should eat more." She turned to Balthus. "Did you forget about him needing to have been at a place first before he can magic to it, or were you just testing, Love?"

"Just testing, my Love, just testing," he said.

"I take it your trust in him is not complete then?"

Balthus snorted, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "The only person who has my total trust, Dear, is you!" He turned her and smacked her bottom, then took her arm in his and headed toward the stables.

"So we'll leave tomorrow," said Adrianna.

"Yep," said Balthus.

"Then where are we headed now?" asked Adrianna.

"To gather supplies and saddle the luses, so we can leave immediately."

"You never fail to amaze me," she said.

"Yep," drawled Balthus.

"And confuse me."

"Yep," drawled Balthus.

CHAPTER 35

Saladar had lost them. He rose up in his stirrups for one last look down the trail. For the past two days he had avoided the highwaymen by only the slimmest margin.

"Curse me for being generous!" he said to no one. Spending too freely at a Freetown inn several days ago, the very men he had been buying drinks for tried to rob him. He had just enough time to gather his gold and belongings together in a mad dash out the window before they battered down his door. The innkeeper must have been in on it too! I'll get him as well! He made a mental note to be more careful in the future, and patted the purple sack of gold tied to his saddle.

Just touching it made him feel secure. He never had to work again. No one could tell him what to do. He could buy anything or anyone he wanted. With his brains and this much gold, he could go far – if he could just figure out where he was. While losing the robbers, he had ridden in a wild chase through uninhabited areas. He was in the arid lands, far southeast of Freetown, that much he knew. Saladar wiped his forehead and squeezed the last drops from his water bag into his mouth. He needed to find water, and soon.

He rode along until he spotted a little greenery not too far down a blind canyon. Where there was green there was water. He spurred his luse into the mouth of the canyon. At the rear, he found a little stand of trees and a small pool surrounded by grass.

"Perfect!" He dismounted, put his head in the water and splashed some on his back to cool off. "Ahhh... A good spot," he said aloud. Glancing around, he decided to camp there for the night. He gathered sticks for a fire and unsaddled his luse, putting it on a long line for grazing. Oblivious to the beautiful sunset, he lay down to rest.

He never noticed the many pairs of black eyes set in blue faces that had been watching him since he entered the canyon. As the sun set, thin nictitating membranes slid aside, and red eyes glowed.

CHAPTER 36

"There was a wife, a great big liar,

Her marriage went from pan to fire.

She diddled here she diddled there,

She diddled all without much care.

Singing dee dee diddle dee do diddle dee;

Singing dee dee diddle dee do.

She..."

Balthus stopped singing and looked across his luse to Adrianna. "Come on," he said. "You know the words!"

"I should. You have been singing them for the past two hours. I think your luse has gone deaf."

"Critic," he said.

The ride down the well-maintained road to Freetown had been easy. Stopping at inns late and leaving early, they would make the trip in less than three days.

"Did I ever tell you that as a young man I had aspirations to be a bard?" asked Balthus as he stroked his luse's floppy ear.

"Nooo, I never heard that one. What happened?" she said.

"Couldn't carry a tune," he said chuckling, "though I never lacked for enthusiasm. Here's one you never heard before."

As he opened his mouth, Adrianna glanced down the road. "Riders ahead."

Balthus loosened his sword in its sheath. "Let me do all the talking."

"You usually do," she replied.

Riders on the Freetown road were nothing unusual nor were they necessarily to be feared, but Balthus never liked to leave things to chance. Peering through the dust, he saw pennants on lances. "It's the Lancers," he said and relaxed.

King Justin I, self-styled "Conqueror of the World," had built a small network of roads across his domain and established the King's Lancers to patrol them. The current ruler, King Justin IV, upheld the tradition, but not as wholeheartedly as his sires. At one time a traveler could cross the King's realm from one end to the other and never worry about his purse. Now, foreign wars and higher costs kept most of the Lancers away from doing the job they were created for.

Balthus counted twenty lances – a large patrol. As they neared, Balthus and Adrianna walked their luses to the side of the road. Balthus shielded his eyes and stared down the road at the patrol leader. When in earshot, he cupped his hands and shouted, "The King's Lancers are either old or drunkards!"

The patrol leader raised his arm and the Lancers slowed to a halt. The leader shouted, "We're both – old drunkards!" He grinned.

As the dust settled, Balthus and the patrol leader walked their luses toward each other and clasped hands. "Balthus, you bastard, how the hell are you!"

"Fine, Rolf. How are you? And what are the Lancers doing this far from a tavern?" asked Balthus.

"Ha! Good question." Rolf wiped his heavily-lined face with a large handkerchief. The dirty rag looked to contain at least an acre of the King's road. "We are out here earning a few extra silvers. Several bands of mercenaries have been harassing travelers the last few days and the merchants of Freetown put up big rewards to drive them off. They don't want their Fair ruined. And you?"

"Going to the Fair. Adrianna has a hankering to spend my hard-earned gold."

"Adrianna, how fare thee?" said Rolf, nodding to Adrianna. "Still tagging along after this derelict, I see."

"Someone has to look out for him, and it's such a big job only a woman could do it," she said.

"Ha! When are you going to leave this drunkard and take up with a real man?" Rolf asked, jabbing a thumb into his chest.

"You keep avoiding me Rolf, and I'm tired of chasing you."

Rolf laughed again.

"I don't see Dag with you," said Balthus. "I thought you never went anywhere without him."

Rolf's smile faded. "Dag took an arrow in the throat last winter from some stupid farmer. He didn't even mean to loose the arrow; it was just one of those things."

"Damn. That's a shame," said Balthus, shaking his head. "I guess you can't avoid the one with your name on it."

"No," answered Rolf. "You can only avoid the ones marked 'To the Citizens of the Realm.'"

"Good man, Dagmar," said Balthus. "Meet me in town tonight and we will hoist a few in his memory. The first round is on me."

"Sounds good. Where will you be staying?"

"The King's Arms," said Balthus.

"The King's Arms?" said Rolf. "If you can afford the Arms then you're buying more than the first round." He nodded to Adrianna. "I'll see you two tonight." Rolf rode back to the column and raised his hand. The Lancers broke into a trot.

Balthus and Adrianna waited until the last man passed, then continued down the road.

"Too bad about Dagmar," said Adrianna.

"Yes, a solid man, with absolutely no luck. Once, I saw him roll six star points in a row in a game of Transor. Of course he bet against himself on all six rolls. Good man, no luck."

"I'm glad you have good luck," she said.

"Of course I do. I have you, don't I? And you're lucky too, because I'm about to sing you a love song." Balthus cleared his throat and sang at the top of his lungs.

"There once was a woman from Fussee!

Who had no hair on her – "

"Oh, spare me!" Adrianna grimaced and spurred her luse.

"Hey," yelled Balthus. "Come back! It gets better, honestly!" He spurred his luse after her.

CHAPTER 37

Lancelead Grey came through the dimgate and hit the ground, weapon ready, body racing from adrenalin.

"It's clear, Sir," said the voice of Strikedag Tanner through the comm. "Area secured." The Lancelead relaxed and stood. He had expected a firefight or droid reception committee – anything but this. The view through his faceplate showed a barren hilltop consisting of dry rocks, dust and bright sun. There wasn't a piece of green anywhere near the area, just a few stalks of brown grass poking out between the stones. Commlead Haridep was crouching down behind a rock, her laser pointing down the hill. The Strikedag was nowhere to be seen.

"Strikedag Tanner," Lancelead Grey said over his comm.

"Here, Sir. Right behind you," said the Strikedag as he walked down the hill to join the Lancelead. "I did a little scouting around this hilltop. There doesn't seem to be anyone or anything around. What does your command suit tell you?"

The Lancelead blinked up the information his command suit had been compiling since he stepped onto this world. Officers' command battle suits were built more for information collection and analysis than the non-com suits. He read the report aloud as it appeared in his eye.

"Uh, point nine seven gees, nitrogen, uhumm," he said skipping ahead. "A good breathable atmosphere, soil sample, uhumm." He stopped blinking and looked at the Strikedag. "It looks like a Humanhab-One-class world, a little on the light side with no electronic emissions anywhere. Small minor lifeforms, temp about what would be expected in a desert-like area."

The Lancelead glanced at Commlead Haridep, who was still on guard.

"Ma'am, you can be at ease and rack your weapon."

The Commlead rose and joined the two marines. "This is not what I expected from a Kraken world. I can't see them opening a gate to a place like this," she said.

"This isn't one of the worlds they have attacked, either," said the Lancelead. "The radiation levels are normal." He glanced at the landscape. The emptiness bothered him. He felt marooned on a desert planet – and a long, long way from home. "I wonder where the hell we are."

"Don't know," said the Strikedag. "But it beats being on a Kraken dreadnought filled with battle droids," he said, laughing. "I suggest we fill our tanks since this is breathable stuff, and after that, I'm out of ideas."

The Commlead looked down and gestured at her suit. "Do we still need to wear these? The atmosphere is good and I'd love to get out of this thing."

The lancelead sighed. He was beginning to like the Fleet Commlead, but she just wasn't a marine. He felt like a babysitter. "Not for long you wouldn't, Ma'am," he explained. "It's very hot, about one-point-two body temp out there, and very dry. We need to use the suits' recycling capabilities as long as they last. Besides, we are on an unknown, possibly hostile world. Best we stay suited up."

"You're right, of course, Lancelead. I'd just like to get out of this suit." She rolled her head in her helmet. "I'll stop complaining."

"Never stop complaining," said the Strikedag, looking up from checking the weapons panel on his forearm. "It's the only right we got." He glanced around the barren area. "Either of you two officers have any ideas as to what we should do now?"

The Commlead and Lancelead Grey exchanged glances in silence. After a moment, he shrugged. "You're the expert on alien studies, Commlead. I suggest we follow your orders."

"Orders no, suggestions yes." She pointed to a small patch of greenery on the horizon. "Most lifeforms on a Humanhab One need water to survive. That greenery far to the west implies the presence of water. If any higher lifeforms developed here, that's where they would be. I suggest we head toward those hills."

The Lancelead scanned the distance. "It's about a two or three-day walk depending on the terrain." He turned to the Strikedag. "You heard the Commlead, Strikedag. The heading is west. Take point if you please."

"Aye aye, Sir." The strikedag unracked his laser and moved down the hill.

The Lancelead watched the retreating back of the strikedag for a moment, glad that the solid marine was on his team. He gestured to the Commlead. "After you, Ma'am, and please keep your interval."

She nodded. "I hope this stroll is less eventful than the last one you took me on, Lancelead."

"So do I, Ma'am," he said, unracking his laser, "so do I."

They moved down the dusty hill into the distance.

CHAPTER 38

The King's Arms was the finest inn around. After they first met, Balthus and Adrianna had stayed there and it held special meaning for them. Whenever they were in Freetown and had the coin, it was their first choice. Balthus liked the personal service and Adrianna loved the enormous bathtubs supplied with hot water from coal furnaces on the inn's roof.

Balthus finished toweling off and began dressing. "You're going to wrinkle up like an old shirt," he said to Adrianna.

She sank lower into the steaming hot water. "I don't care, this feels too wonderful. You can iron my wrinkles later."

Balthus halted his dressing and thought for a moment. "I can do that," he said, smiling. "But right now, I'm going down to the tavern and have some of the Arms' fine bitter ale and wait for Rolf. Will you be down later?"

"Yes. Why don't you invite Rolf to dine with us. I know he rarely gets the kind of quality fare they serve at the Arms."

"Good idea. I'll see you downstairs then," he said, and left the room.

"Sweetheart?" she called after him.

Balthus stuck his head back into the bathroom. "Yes, Love?"

"Try to stay out of trouble, please?"

"I guarantee, uh, that is, I definitely, well..." He lowered his head and shook it slowly. "I'll try, Love, I'll try." He let out a long sigh and closed the door.

Balthus played rich man and used his title often when staying at the King's Arms. The King had installed him as "Knight Peer of the Realm" for his service during the southern frontier border wars. The title of 'Sir' came with the award. It seemed to be what the Arms found necessary in a customer and he felt obliged to use it.

The Arms' manager greeted Balthus on the stairwell and asked if his room was suitable. Then he asked about the service, the food, the décor. Balthus, anxious to get to his ale, gave him a quick "wonderful," and slipped him a silver, which he knew had been the manager's aim all along.

Balthus entered the tavern section and found an empty table in a corner. He chose a seat that put his back against the wall. From there, he could watch everyone in the room. Even though he was in the finest inn at Freetown, old habits died hard.

"Hello, handsome. What can I get for you today?" said a young and pretty serving girl. She wore her off-the-shoulder blouse pulled low and her skirt hitched up.

"A tankard of your bitter ale would be fine," he said. He spied Rolf coming in the door. "Better make that a pitcher and two mugs."

"Coming right up." She disappeared with a flash of shapely leg.

"Rolf!" yelled Balthus and he motioned his friend over to the table. He stood and they shook hands. "Good of you to make it."

"With you buying the rounds, no problem," said Rolf. He took the seat across from Balthus.

The serving girl returned with the drinks. She leaned over the table, her low-cut blouse displaying her more than ample charms. "Will there be anything else a girl can do for you, handsome?" she asked Balthus.

"Yes, keep the pitcher full, would you, doll? We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"You just wiggle your finger and I'll come." She winked and left to serve another patron.

"Looks like you've found a friend there," said Rolf, watching the serving girl depart.

Balthus shrugged. "It must be a slow night. But tell me, what have you been up to these last – what has it been, two years?"

"Aye, it has." Rolf rubbed the back of his neck with his thick calloused hand. "Well, nothing too exciting. The Lancers have been keeping me busy. There seems to be more Torbu, bandits, rogue Morgurs, and more plain fools than ever before." He stopped, took a long pull at his mug, and uttered a deep sigh of contentment. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he continued. "The Arvari have been seen in the eastern forests. What could push them out of their northeastern homelands is beyond me." He took another long drink and emptied his mug. "I heard a rumor today that Dieya the Sorcerer was seen recently up north a ways, and heard tales of Stembuck hunting heads in the Dry Wastes."

Balthus grunted. He recalled what the sorcerer had said about the Krill collecting negative power. He wondered if more were happening on Ravar than just what Dieya had alluded to. He refilled Rolf's mug. "Go on."

"I dunno," said Rolf into his mug. "There just seems to be more meanness in the world than there used to be. Or maybe I'm just getting old. Anyway, how about you? Ever run into anyone from the old legion?"

Balthus smiled. "I happened across that weasel Gimler."

"Gimler!" barked Rolf. "What a bastard. I'll never forget the look on your face when you found he not only took all your money, but your boots as well." He banged his mug down on the table and roared with laughter. Balthus laughed along with him. "I'll bet a year's pay he was the one that betrayed us at Galamine," mused Rolf.

"It was, in fact. He told me," said Balthus. "If you wanted to see a face, you should have seen Gimler's face when I ran across him in a wharf tavern in Arthenia. He spilled his guts, so to speak."

"Ha, ha," laughed Rolf. "I wish I could have seen that! What happened?"

"Well, it seemed the knife he drew on me found its way into his own belly," Balthus said and drained his mug.

"Well done," said Rolf. "I never did like that little rat and the world is better off without the likes of him. We lost some good men at Galamine." He looked off into the distance, then back to Balthus. "We've seen a lot of hard times together, you and me, when we were out on the southern frontier. Good times and good men." Rolf emptied the remains of the pitcher into his mug and held it up. "To absent friends."

"Absent friends," echoed Balthus. They drained their mugs, banged them down on the table and roared. They laughed at the other patron's disdaining looks. Balthus gestured to the serving girl for another pitcher. She was back in moments and after filling their mugs, plunked herself down on Balthus' lap.

"Well, handsome," she said, twirling a lock of his hair. "I bet you get lonely on a night like this."

Balthus smiled. "No, not usually."

"I'm new here and I've always wondered what the rooms upstairs look like. Maybe you would like to show me yours later, after I get off from work," she said, nuzzling his ear.

"No, I couldn't do that. It's too dangerous," he said.

"Dangerous!" She stared at him then slapped his chest. "A big strong man like you, afraid of 'lil ole me?"

"Not dangerous for me, dangerous for you," he said.

"Me? Why would it be dangerous for me?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Well, because of the knife," said Balthus.

"What knife? – ulp," she choked.

"This knife," said Adrianna, holding the point of her knife under the girl's chin. Adrianna shifted the blade, forcing the serving girl to turn and look up at her. "I believe you are in my seat." Adrianna looked her in the eye a moment longer, then lowered the knife.

"Sorry Ma'am," gasped the serving girl, scrambling off Balthus' lap. She made a dash for the kitchen. Rolf's face was bright red as he tried desperately to hold in a mouthful of ale. He lost the battle. The ale flew from his mouth, as did the gigantic guffaw that followed. He pounded the table and laughed until tears flowed from his eyes. Adrianna sat down next to Balthus and joined in the laughter. It was impossible not to, watching Rolf.

"Speaking of faces," Rolf said, through a wheeze, "did you see hers?" They burst into a new round of laughter.

Adrianna shook her head after they had calmed down. "You can't stay out of trouble, can you?" she said, smiling at Balthus.

"I'm not in trouble."

"Oh, yes you are!" cried Rolf. His face got even redder, and they fell into another round of giggles.

"You two," said Adrianna, shaking her head. "One of you better buy me dinner." She jabbed a finger into Balthus' chest. "And it better be you!"

"Dinner. Always a fine idea," said Balthus. They walked to the dining room, still laughing.

CHAPTER 39

Janelle eyed the creature but stood behind the Lancelead just in case it wasn't dead.

"What in the universe do you think that is?" said the Strikedag, looking down at the body.

The rock the creature had been hiding behind must have contained material that shielded it from their battlesuit scanners. They first knew of its presence when, roaring, it jumped down at the Strikedag from its hiding place. Rory had hit the beast in mid air, square in the chest with a quick snap shot from the hip. The Lancelead was still complimenting Rory's reaction.

Janelle stepped around the Lancelead and examined the creature more closely. She hoped it might offer some clue about this planet, and any focus might help ease her stress. They hadn't seen any evidence of the Kraken, but her edginess hadn't abated. She glanced at the two marines. They hadn't been bothered by the fight with the battle droids. To them, it was just another normal day on the job. To her, it was an awakening. It pushed her awareness to a higher level. Everything was clearer and brighter, yet when she considered the possibility of capture by the Kraken, she shivered. Maybe combat was like that. She shook herself and concentrated on the creature.

It was a powerfully built biped with long legs. Light brown in color, with a tan patch on its chest and belly, its hard leathery skin was hairless. Standing, it would have been about eight feet tall. The insect-like head had four small horns, a cross between antlers and antennae.

"What do you think, Commlead. Is this the local higher life form?" asked the Strikedag.

"Claws, two opposable thumbs on each hand, fighting fangs." She shook her head. "I don't know, but..." She leaned closer and turned over the creature's left hand. It wore an intricately designed gold ring on its finger.

"Whoa," said the Lancelead. "Do they have metallurgy skills?"

"I doubt it, Lancelead," said Janelle. "Notice the ring is worn only on the first joint. It's too small to go down any lower. Not a comfortable or safe place to wear a ring. No, my guess is that he took it from a former owner."

"Well, we know for sure that someone on this planet has metallurgy skills and a highly developed sense of art judging by that ring," said the Strikedag. "Perhaps it belongs to that smaller set of unshod footprints we've been finding occasionally."

"Perhaps," said the Lancelead. "It does show that there are highly developed beings on this world. We'd better remain sharp." He received nods of agreement from the others.

They trekked toward the patch of greenery, still in the same grouping: Strikedag Tanner on point; Commlead Haridep in the center; and Lancelead Grey as rear guard. The gorge they had been hiking down opened out onto flatter, dryer terrain.

Janelle was tired. She plodded along, just staring at Strikedag Tanner's back. Aboard ship, she would have said she was in good shape. Her daily regimen of Denwabi exercises had kept her toned, but walking all day in a battle suit was wearing her down.

"Let's take a break before we cross that open area," said the Lancelead.

She sighed a "thank you" and sat down under the shade of an overhanging rock. She didn't notice any temperature difference since her suit kept a constant temperature, but it made her feel better to get out of the sun. "I'm so tired of this suit. I've never felt more in need of a shower," she said.

"It grows on you, Ma'am," said the Strikedag.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said with a grimace.

The marines laughed. "Seriously, Ma'am, there comes a time around the fourth or fifth day when the suit seems to become your second skin, and it no longer bothers you as much," said the Strikedag.

"I hope so. As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to it," she said.

"Then comes the problem of taking it off," he said. "It becomes such a part of you, it feels like you are peeling off your skin." He grinned. "If you think you felt naked before, wait until you get your suit off after a week. You feel like you're wearing only your bones."

"I don't care. I'd like to get out of this suit and have a null gravity massage with – "

Their proximity alarms sounded and the trio leaped to their feet. The Strikedag glanced at his display.

"I'm reading fifteen lifeforms in two separate groups about five hundred and seven hundred feet distant, both heading this way."

The Lancelead glanced upward. "We can hide up in these rocks until they pass, and if they're coming for us that's a good defensive position."

"Sir. We won't be able to see them clearly till they enter the gorge. I'll stay here and observe until they get closer."

"Good idea Dagger. We'll take cover. Let's go, Ma'am."

He didn't have to tell her twice. Thoughts of a confrontation lent speed to her boots.

The officers climbed until they were about eighteen feet over the gorge. The Strikedag hid behind a rock on the trail and narrated what occurred.

"I have a visual on the first group. Binocs show six humanoid creatures. Blue skin, black eyes. Some carrying clubs. Wearing what appear to be skins. The second group now in visual, nine creatures of the same type. They are waving their clubs at each other but do not appear to be hostile toward one another. Groups merging. One member is displaying the contents of a cloth bag. It's uh, – oh!" Strikedag Tanner was quiet for a moment. "They are headed this way. Keep low, these critters are not our friends." He scrambled up the rock until he was next to the Commlead. They sat watching quietly until the group passed below them and moved up the gorge.

"Let's give them a few minutes to get out of range," said the Lancelead.

They watched until the group was out of sight. "You know," said the Lancelead. "The bag they were carrying was made of cloth and those creatures were wearing skins. I doubt they have knowledge of weaving. There must be humans on this planet."

"Not necessarily, Lancelead," said Janelle. "There are at least twenty-two known species that have weaving ability. We can't assume there are humans on this world."

"There are humans here," said Rory.

"What makes you so sure, Strikedag," asked the Commlead.

The strikedag looked in the direction of the departed creatures. "The cloth bag contained a human head."

"Oh..." she said as she fought the churning of her stomach.

The Strikedag sighed. "When it's my turn to go, I hope my head doesn't go into a bag that color." He shuddered. "I don't think I've ever seen an uglier shade of purple in my life."

CHAPTER 40

The two marines and Commlead Haridep continued moving westward until dusk. Janelle was thankful that the cliffs were closer. Their green color beckoned to her after days in this dust brown, arid land.

"Let's stop for the night," said the Lancelead. They had passed through the open terrain and were back in a rocky area.

"Whew," said Commlead Haridep. "I'm ready for that."

They found a sheltered spot under a rock overhang and set up a defensive perimeter of explosive charges. When finished, they returned and sat in a small circle. Janelle felt her legs wobble as she lowered herself to the ground. It felt good to get off her feet.

"I feel like we have a campfire going," said the Strikedag, holding his hands over the center of the circle pretending to warm them.

"We should tell campfire stories," said the Commlead.

"Here's one," said the Strikedag. "One day three wonderful people were transported to a world where humans are advanced enough to make gold metal rings, indicating art and a possible economy, short blue guys carry human heads in ugly purple sacks, and big-fanged brown creatures try to kill handsome Strikedags. Then a beautiful damsel clapped her hands and they were all home drinking a cold brew."

They shared a laugh.

"Nice fairy tale, Strikedag," said Lancelead Grey. "I think our chance of finding some type of human settlement is good. Although the lack of any electronic signatures worries me." He stared off into the distance. "I wonder about our chances of getting home. Our distress beacons won't make it off this planet."

"Lancelead," said the Commlead. "You are forgetting that the Kraken had a dimgate pre-selected for this world. Something is up on this planet, so don't count us out yet."

He nodded, but sadness etched his face and he looked strained.

"You all right Lancelead?"

"Yeah..." He tossed the pebble he was playing with away. "Just thinking about home."

Janelle knew he was tunneling into the dark recesses of his mind, thinking he'd never see his bride again and torturing himself over it. Janelle exchanged a look with the Strikedag. She could see his concern as well. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and the Strikedag held up a hand then pointed to himself.

"Whatever happens, it's been a pleasure serving with you two." He turned to the Lancelead. "You know, Sir, when you were first assigned to our unit, I thought you were a cardboard cutout academy jerk, with no brains and no common sense. I must admit you've done a fine job on this excursion of ours so far. You've learned quickly. I've seen new officers take years to display the leadership you've shown since we boarded the Cross."

"Well thanks, Strikedag." The Lancelead broke into a smile. "And I was impressed by the excellent shot on that creature that attacked you. Fine shooting."

"Thanks, Sir. I was on the fleet shooting team about ten years back. Always seemed to have the touch."

"Someone better tell me how talented I am or I will feel left out," chimed in the Commlead.

"Ma'am, your skill as – " began the Strikedag.

"Enough, Strikedag," she said holding up her hand. "– Rory. I was only kidding." She turned to the Lancelead. "But he was right, Bo, you have matured in – what, three days?"

"I think we all have, Janelle," Bo said with a smile. "But this is one tired mature boy you're talking to." He lay down on the ground, turning onto his side. "And I'm going to get some downtime."

"That's a good idea for all of us, Sir," said the Strikedag.

"I don't know how you learned to sleep comfortably in these suits," said the Commlead. "But I'm so tired I don't care if I'm comfortable."

"See, Janelle," said Rory. "You're learning already."

CHAPTER 41

Morning came to call on a very stiff Commlead Haridep. "Ouch," she said, sitting up. "I could use a rubdown this morning." She struggled to her feet.

"Just shake it loose, Ma'am," said the Strikedag. "You'll be all right after some chow and a few miles."

They sat down around the make-believe campfire again, eating what their suits dispensed from their tubes.

"Could this suit be breaking down? My rations taste worse than normal," she said.

"It's not the suit, Ma'am, it's you," said the Lancelead. "With this much activity, your body is requiring different nutrients than normal. Your suit is giving you what you need."

"What I need is a couple of yaglas over easy and grennis tea with honey."

"Don't start talking about food, Ma'am, please," said the Strikedag, holding his stomach. "Talking about it makes me smell it, my mouth waters, and I get incredibly hungry. All the tube paste in the world doesn't help."

"Sorry, Strikedag. I'll change the subject," she said. "What do you think is the best way to approach the human residents when we find them? Any ideas, anyone?"

"Tough one to call, Ma'am," said Lancelead Grey. "We're going to have to wing it, I'm afraid."

She nodded.

"We'd better find them first," said the Strikedag, standing and stretching. "We should be moving along."

The others stood. From the corner of her eye, the Commlead watched what appeared to be a small rock arc through the air and roll to a stop between them.

"Grenade!" yelled Strikedag Tanner. He turned to run as an explosion ripped through the air.

CHAPTER 42

Strikedag Tanner's head pounded. This was one bad hangover. He tried to remember where he had been drinking as his gloved hand rubbed his face. The shock of the glove touching his bare skin jolted his memory.

He remembered the grenade.

Sitting up with a start, a flash of pain washed over him, forcing his eyes closed. He automatically reached for his laser but it was gone.

"At ease, Strikedag, at ease."

The pain subsided and Strikedag Tanner slowly opened his eyes. A man in strange dress sat on a rock two yards in front of him. His clothing was entirely black, from his boots to his cape. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with long blond hair and intense blue eyes. His face held a stern, yet annoyed expression.

Strikedag Tanner looked to his left. The Lancelead and Commlead lay by his side. They were unconscious and also without their helmets. A glance told him they were weaponless as well. They all had been carried into the shade cast by a large rock. He looked back to the man in black.

The stranger gestured with an upraised hand. "Sorry for the stun grenade, but I had to be sure you were what you appeared to be." The man leaned forward. "Let me introduce myself. I am Dieya four-three-nine-two, Planetary Warden of Ravar." His forehead creased in a frown and there was a hard edge to his voice. "Now that the pleasantries are over, tell me what you are doing on my world."

The Strikedag looked at his companions, who had begun to stir and reviewed his knowledge about the Dieyas: tungsten armored skeletal structure; enhanced muscle composition and density; chip-aided reflexes. Jumping this man was out of the question. He remembered that being a Dieya was a solitary job.

He remembered hearing that they were ruthless.

Rory stared back at the Dieya's frowning face. He didn't like his attitude. "I dunno. Just following orders," he said. "You'd better wait for the Commlead or the Lancelead for answers."

The Dieya's mouth formed a smile that didn't extend to his eyes. "We will wait then, Strikedag. But I am not the enemy. I had just dealt with some Kraken interference on this planet when I received an off-world dimgate alarm. I expected to find an entire battle droid group on the ground. Instead, I found you and your friends. I had to be sure." He looked to the Strikedag's left. "Commlead, Lancelead, rest easy. There is no danger."

Lancelead Grey and Commlead Haridep were struggling to sit up. The Lancelead jerked and reached for his laser.

"Easy, Sir, easy," said Strikedag Tanner, placing a hand on the Lancelead's arm. "We're okay, Sir."

The Lancelead stared at the stranger. "Sit-rep, Strikedag," he said. He didn't take his eyes off the man in black.

"Sir! This person claims to be planetary Dieya four-three-nine-two. Seems he was the one who tossed the stun grenade."

"Rather a rude way to make our acquaintance, don't you think, Dieya four-three-nine-two?" the Lancelead said coldly.

"We will wait for the Commlead to fully recover and then we will continue this conversation," said Dieya, leaning back, his hands clasped around a knee.

The Lancelead glanced at Strikedag Tanner, his eyes narrowing.

"No, Sir," whispered Strikedag Tanner. "Don't even think about it."

The Dieya nodded. Strikedag Tanner was surprised at the nod, then remembered that Dieyas had visual, audio and vocal enhancements as well.

The Commlead held her head to ease the throbbing, but her brain was clear and she'd heard everything.

Dieyas.

She recalled her info-class about the Dieya section of the Human Alliance League. The Dieyas were planetary sentinels stationed on independently evolving planets. They watched for Kraken interference and guarded against contact with higher technologically developed cultures. Totally dedicated with total authority. She wondered idly if they found men who were dedicated, or did nano-bit chips modify their attitude. She gathered her thoughts and spoke.

"Dieya. My name is Commlead Janelle Haridep. We have escaped from inside a Kraken Cross and a Kraken Thirty-six dreadnought. We have vital information that must get back to the Alliance."

The man in black arched an eyebrow and looked dubious.

"Our suit cams will back up our story, and I had a tri-vid running the entire time," she said, and fumbled with the tri-vid cube on her belt. The words she had spoken echoed in her mind. She looked up. "It is a sunny dry day here in the desert," she vocalized slowly, while listening to the sounds. Revulsion filled her and betrayal saturated her voice. "You used a language replacer on us!" She glared at the Dieya.

"Yes. I deemed it necessary for you to know the local language," he said, casually dismissing her statement with the flip of a hand.

"Language replacers are only to be used with the individual's consent!" She felt her face redden, hot with indignation.

The Dieya stood. "I will decide what will be done here!" He looked her in the eye and snatched the tri-vid disk from her hand. "I will review this disk and return shortly. Wait here." He walked off a few yards, then pointed to his left. "Your weapons are behind that rock." He took another step and vanished in a blue glow.

"Snotty bastard," said Strikedag Tanner.

Lancelead Grey nodded. "But I like that small-jump personal dimgate. Nice and easy way to travel."

The Strikedag agreed. "I'll bet he has an off-world gate to be able to leave here occasionally. Even a bugger like him must get lonely for a taste of home."

"True, it's required," said Commlead Haridep. "But an off-world dimgate needs a steady platform and a lot of equipment to function. He must have a base of operations on this planet. That's probably where he's reviewing the tri-vid recording."

"The Dieya can't dim us out of this desert, either," said the Strikedag. "PDGs are built to body specs."

"Yes, the field only allows you to carry small objects," said Janelle.

"I guess we'll have to walk out," said Lancelead Grey with a smile. "But once we get there, we can get home." His smile was contagious. "What do you make of the Dieya?" he asked Commlead Haridep.

"Dieyas are strange human beings. I can't imagine willingly giving up modern technology to live in a backward age," she said. "Though this would be a fascinating place to study."

"How does he move among the locals?" asked Strikedag Tanner. "I guess he never lets them see him dim."

"I can hazard a guess," she mused. "His dress and his very presence here indicate a low level of technology. I imagine this world is still in a semi-barbaric state. Their unknowns are usually answered through superstition and myth. He probably travels as a wizard or shaman."

"If he can get us home, he'll be wizard enough as far as I'm concerned," said Lancelead Grey. His smile blossomed into a huge grin.

"Cheer up, Lancelead," said Strikedag Tanner. Everyone laughed.

"This has been an amazing experience," said Commlead Haridep.

Strikedag Tanner nodded in agreement, then stopped, his face turning somber. "And it's not over yet. Everyone still stay on your toes. I've seen troops, headed back to a pickup point after a mission, trip a booby-trap they had avoided going in."

"Roger that, Strikedag," said Lancelead Grey, sobering. "Let's get our helmets back on, then spread out and have some chow. I don't want to be embarrassed by another grenade." After gathering their helmets and weapons, they moved to positions far enough away from each other to provide safety, yet close enough to provide cover fire.

They sat, lost in their own thoughts and waited. Several hours passed and still there was no sign of the Dieya.

"Ya think he forgot about us?" asked Strikedag Tanner to no one in particular.

"He probably has a lot to do," said Lancelead Grey. "You know, kill and skin his breakfast. Chip out a few stone tools."

"From the Dieya's attire I'd say this civilization is a bit more advanced than that, Lancelead," said Commlead Haridep.

"I know, Ma'am. I was just thinking disparaging thoughts about the Dieya. His methods are too high-handed. I don't like him at all."

"Dieyas have a difficult job, Lancelead. We might be the first civilized humans he's seen in a while. Let's cut him some slack."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Strikedag Tanner agreeably. "No matter what I think about that character, or his unknown lineage, he's my new best friend until we get off this rock."

"Speaking of bastards," said Lancelead Grey, gesturing north.

The Dieya stood on a rock, about two hundred feet away, in plain sight. Once everyone had turned toward him, he jumped down and walked to the group.

"Didn't want to get shot accidentally," said Strikedag Tanner. "That could happen to someone like him. Smart, though..."

"Thought you forgot about us," said Lancelead Grey through his external speaker as the Dieya approached.

"Headquarters was as dubious as I was about your story," said the Dieya, dumping a small bundle at their feet. "But they confirmed your identity. Sending them that tri-vid was like kicking over a grendle hive." He stepped back and looked at each of them. "And, I need to get you to debriefing as soon as possible," he said, smiling. His grin was charismatic and infectious. The others echoed his smile.

"I'm glad to see we made your day, Dieya," said Lancelead Grey, with a failed try at sarcasm.

"Yes, it adds up somehow." Dieya bent down to untie the bundle. "I can't see what it means, but yours is an exciting breakthrough."

"What adds up?" asked Commlead Haridep.

The Dieya glanced up. "An unfinished Kraken Cross, the core holding a chair for a human, with a gateway to a world experiencing Kraken involvement. A world where negative-energy collector nodes have been constructed." He grimaced. "Too many coincidences."

He loosened the bundle and stood up with clothing in his hand. "Headquarters has decided to continue the policy of non-interference and non-disclosure. You can't be seen using technologically advanced devices. Even though it's hot, your suits have to go. You must be seen as just three average people of Ravar. It will take three week's travel to get to my off-world dim gate."

"Three weeks!" groaned Lancelead Grey. "Surely there must be a faster way."

"There isn't, Lancelead," said Dieya, crossing his arms. "Headquarters is interested in learning what the Kraken are trying to develop on this world and doesn't want word of you three to get back to the Kraken." He gestured to their battle armor. "Get out of those suits and stash them. Remove the blink tabs from your temples and leave them here also. Strip down to your capillary underwear and put on these robes."

Strikedag Tanner didn't move but looked to Lancelead Grey.

Dieya saw his hesitation, pulled a thumb-sized wafer out of his pouch and held it up. "I brought confirmation of these orders and clarification that all of you are now under my command."

He handed the wafer to Commlead Haridep and she inserted it into her comm pak. Blinking twice, she displayed the orders and sent a copy to the others. They blinked, then removed their helmets.

"Here's what you will do," said Dieya while the group divested themselves of their battlesuits. "Head northwest toward that tall rock spire with the flat top." He pointed and waited until everyone identified it. "When you get there, you will see a narrow valley through the cliffs, leading westward. It's the only way out of this arid land. You can't miss it. Half a day's walk inward, you will see a rock projection that looks like a luse's head."

"What's a luse?" interjected Commlead Haridep.

"A local beast of burden," he said. "It will be the first large group of rocks you will see once you leave the desert. Wait there for a guide. Take only one laser pistol with you for protection. It should be more than you need if you stick together."

"I take it you're not coming with us, then?" asked Commlead Haridep.

"No. After I relay these suit disks, I have other duties. You will be in capable hands. I will try to join you later."

He looked at the growing pile of suit pieces and the trio. When stripped of their suits, they wore long, gray, form-fitting underwear. Worn next to the skin, capwear collected waste and provided heating and cooling.

Strikedag Tanner tossed a power pak to the Commlead from his battlesuit. "Snap this into the side circuit to activate your capwear."

Janelle inserted the pak with a click. "Thanks."

Dieya handed out loose fitting sandals and dark blue robes with a gold circle on the left shoulder. "These Sargum Pilgrims' robes will have to do until you can be outfitted correctly," he said. "The pilgrims are people who carry nothing worthwhile and live off the charity of others. You should be left alone, but if accosted," he gestured to the laser pistol, "leave no witnesses." He waited until he received a nod from Lancelead Grey. "Once you meet up with your guide, disassemble the laser and bury the parts and the capwear. Any questions?" he asked.

"How will we know our guide?" asked Strikedag Tanner.

"He will know your names. Any other questions?"

This was moving too fast for Commlead Haridep. She'd have a thousand questions after he left but now had none she could voice. She tried to stall. "Uh, Dieya, uh, how many languages should we encounter?" she stammered.

"There is only one language spoken on Ravar. But any words you say that are not in the local vocabulary will be voiced in Standard Alliance, so be careful. Any other questions?"

"Uh," she said.

"Good," said Dieya. He touched the bundle on the ground with his toe. "There is food and water here, enough to get you where you're going." He pulled a jewel from the amulet he wore on his forearm and handed it to Commlead Haridep.

"Locator beacon. Just squeeze it twice if you need me in an emergency, and once when you get to your final destination. I will be there as soon as I can."

He held up a finger and leaned forward. "I need to stress this." He looked each of them in the eye. "Follow the lead of your guide. Do not make it obvious that you are not from this world. Ask few questions, give vague answers. I know this is a shock for you and none of you have had proper training, but try not to arouse suspicion. Good luck." With that he turned, took a few steps and vanished in a blue glow.

"Us poor untrained slobs will try not to trip over our own feet," Lancelead Grey said to the vanishing blue spot. He turned. "Can you imagine that?" he said, shaking his head.

"You know, there would be something very likable about that man," said Strikedag Tanner, "if he didn't open his mouth."

"He is a bit abrupt, Strikedag, but he is a dynamic individual," said Commlead Haridep, staring at the spot where the man in black last stood. Strikedag Tanner and Lancelead Grey exchanged glances that became smiles.

"Well," said Lancelead Grey, "sooner started, sooner done." He bent down to examine the foodstuffs and water bottles that remained in the bundle. Lifting out a piece of hard travel bread, he marveled, "No wrapping of any sort. I wonder how they stay fresh."

Strikedag Tanner laughed. "I'm sure they're not fresh. Probably never were. If you find mold it's probably the freshest thing about it."

Lancelead Grey dropped the bread and wiped his hand. He gave one water bottle to each person. "Strikedag, take point and carry the Commlead's laser pistol. I'll carry the provisions. We'll stay grouped in case we run into anyone or anything. Let's move out. I'd like to be out of these rocks before it gets too hot. And remember, Strikedag," he said, smiling, "no witnesses."

"I wonder if that includes him?" said the Strikedag, gesturing with his chin to the spot where the Dieya had vanished.

The Lancelead laughed.

"I think the Dieya is just dedicated to his job," said Commlead Haridep. "Lancelead – Bo," she continued, "I guess we should start using our first names. Do you think we can find the spot the Dieya mentioned?"

"Yes, Janelle," he said, stressing her name. "I'm sure we can, although I'm still not sure what a luse is."

Strikedag Tanner only wondered if they were good eating, and moved off down the hill, laser at the ready.

CHAPTER 43

Adrianna liked the rapier right off. It felt alive and molded to her hand.

"Yes. That is one of my best weapons. You have a good eye!" The merchant's nose twitched at the promise of a sale and he worked hard on his pitch. "Made from the finest Silvarian steel, that one is. They fold and re-heat the metal over and over until it becomes hard, but still flexible enough to withstand a broadsword blow."

"Do you guarantee that?" asked Balthus.

The merchant hesitated for only a moment. "Oh, yes!"

"It's easy to guarantee something the owner won't live through if it fails," said Balthus. He turned to Adrianna. "It's lighter than the sword you use now. It would make you that much quicker."

He squeezed her shoulder, then eyed the merchant warily. "How much?"

"Such a weapon, brought all the way across the desert from Silvar, I could only let go for six golds," he said, touching his palms together.

"Six golds!" roared Balthus. With a quick flash of steel he drew his sword. The merchant stepped back with a gasp. Balthus took the rapier from Adrianna and balanced the point on an anvil and the pommel on a table. After a quick glance at the merchant, he sent his hand-and-a-half sword in a whistling arc onto the flat of the blade. The merchant cried out as the clang filled the air. The rapier bounced up then landed on the floor. Balthus sheathed his sword and retrieved the rapier. Grunting after he checked the spine for straightness, he inspected the entire sword very closely. He nodded and handed it to Adrianna.

"One gold is all it's worth, and at that, I'm being generous."

"One gold!" cried the merchant. "Do you intend to rob me, then? You can see it is worth at least five! Even at that price my children will go hungry."

"Five?" yelled back Balthus. "Does that include your children to carry it for us? It can only be worth two – with that sheath," he said, pointing to an ebony sheath lying on a table.

"My best sheath?" exclaimed the merchant. "You must be mad. That would drive the price up to four gold and ten silver."

Adrianna laid the sword next to the sheath. She touched her right thumb to her right ring finger in a hand signal and waited for Balthus to notice. Her gesture told him 'want.' She waited until he acknowledged her signal with a thumb hooked in his belt.

"Balthus," she said, "forget the sword. There are many other merchants in town." She walked out the shop's door and smiled when she was out of sight. She could hear the merchant's voice rise in pitch at the thought of losing the sale.

She would need to have the hilt re-wrapped. The shiny leather now covering it would grow slippery in a sweaty or bloody hand. She would have it changed over to suede or possibly voraskin. Silver voraskin would make it look sensational in its black, silver-tipped sheath.

Balthus and the merchant joined her. Balthus handed her the sword in the ebony sheath. Both men were smiling. It must have been a fair trade. "Fair" meaning both of them thought they had outsmarted the other. Balthus nodded to the merchant, took Adrianna's arm and they walked down the bustling central promenade.

The Merchants' Fair was held in Freetown every spring. Merchants and craftsmen took advantage of Freetown's "anything goes" attitude and tax-exempt status to showcase new wares and test new ideas on the market. The town was always crowded during the Fair and made for a high energy level that Balthus reveled in – for a while, anyway. The smells of exotic foods and the sound of hawkers extolling the virtues of their products followed them as they strolled down the bustling street.

Balthus gestured to the tents and the people. "I love shopping at the Merchants' Fair."

"You love besting the merchants," she said. "Thank you for the sword, by the way. It's beautifully balanced and light as a feather."

"I'm glad you found it."

"I thought that was an awful price though. You didn't pay too much, did you?" she asked.

"No," he said with a grin. "Let me see it a moment. I'd like to be sure of something." She handed it over and he whipped it from its sheath so quickly, passersby lunged for cover and the people in front scurried from their path. This all went unnoticed by Balthus as he examined the sword.

"Ha, ha!" he exclaimed. "I was right. Look closely at the way the basket guard has been attached to the blade." He handed the sword back. "It was not originally made for this sword. Then look at the maker's mark you can barely see under the left corner of the basket. This sword wasn't made in Silvar." He laughed again. "It's a Javan master's sword. Someone added the guard later. That sword is worth five times what I paid for it. That fool of a merchant doesn't know his own wares."

"Did you mention it after the sale?" she asked.

"Naaah," said Balthus, shaking his head. "The way the merchant was smiling he'd made a good profit, that's for sure. If I told him the truth, instead of feeling like he bested me, he would feel cheated. Let him feel he has won. It's a cheap enough price for that feeling."

He glanced at the sword. "Besides, we will have to have the handle re-wrapped. Only a dandy who used a sword for an ornament would put shiny leather on a handle. Suede would be good."

"I was thinking of silver voraskin."

"Silver voraskin! Are you trying to beggar me, woman?" He laughed, and pulled her close for an instant. "Besides, we have to save our money. I'm feeling mighty hungry."

"So it's the Arms for dinner then, I take it?" she asked.

"Yes, the last few days have been pleasant, and it's been nice to sample other fares, but I still like the Arms' food best by far."

"The Arms it is then. I can't have the man who bought me this beautiful sword going hungry." She tugged him in the direction of the King's Arms.

Adrianna idly stroked the hilt of her new sword as they walked stride for stride through the crowded streets. Ahead, a skinny beggar sitting cross-legged on the cobblestones arose and headed directly toward them. Her hand tightened on the hilt just as Balthus touched her forearm. She eased her grip.

"Alms, good Sir, alms." The raggedly dressed, hunchbacked man shoved a begging bowl at Balthus, hitting him in the chest.

"Of course, my good man." Balthus fumbled in his pouch, head bent. "What's up, Pondo?" he asked in a lowered voice.

"There's been a man asking for you, Balthus. A hard-looking man, all dressed in black, long blond hair, blue eyes," he whispered back. "He's in the Arms right now."

Balthus straightened and dropped a silver into the cup. "Here you go, my good man. Peace be to you." Balthus winked and the beggar bowed and left.

"So, Blackie's in town, hey?" Balthus said to Adrianna. "What do you think, Love? Do we want to see him, or disappear? He has something ugly for us to do, I just know it."

She nodded. "Possibly, but I think you are tiring of the Fair after three days. And we can always yell 'No,' as you always say."

Balthus nodded. "Aye, let's hear him out."

They arrived at the Arms and entered the nearly empty tavern area.

Balthus spied Dieya sitting at the corner table, his back to the wall. "The dog is in my seat," growled Balthus.

"Your name's not carved on the chair," said Adrianna. "Don't worry," she patted his arm, "I'll watch your back."

He nodded and they joined Dieya at the table.

Dieya stood and shook their hands. "Good to see you two so soon," he said, smiling. "Having a good time at the Fair?"

"Aye, we are, but what about you? Someone must have died for you to be in this good a mood," said Balthus. Adrianna slid onto the bench next to Dieya and Balthus took the seat across the table from them.

"It has been an interesting few days," said Dieya.

"Interesting – that word could be used to describe fun or fear," said Balthus. "Will you join us for dinner? The fare at the Arms is second to none."

"Thank you for the offer, but I've come to ask a favor, then I must go."

"Really Dieya, you must eat more," said Adrianna, poking his ribs as Balthus signaled for wine. The serving maid placed a pitcher and three goblets on a tray and headed their way. Adrianna recognized her as the one she had the encounter with their first day in town. As the maid approached, Adrianna wrapped her arm through Dieya's and stared at her. The maid set down the tray, then gaped from Adrianna to Balthus to Dieya. Finally, she shook her head and left.

Dieya looked perplexed. "What – "

"Pay them no mind," said Balthus, holding up a hand. "Adrianna's just pulling the wings off flies, is all. Now, good Dieya, ask your favor so we can give you a hearty 'No.'"

Dieya had opened his mouth to speak and closed it with a clop. Shaking his head, he smiled, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Here's my favor. I need you to escort three friends of mine from Luse Head Rock in Ardendale Valley to Brightmoor Castle. They are new to the area and are not able to travel there on their own."

Dieya reached for his wine and took an extended drink.

Adrianna glanced at Balthus and he raised an eyebrow. She knew Dieya was covering something with his sudden interest in his wine and saw that Balthus knew it too.

Adrianna watched a small smile play on Balthus' lips. Balthus was probably thinking that, in time, he could uncover the secret Dieya held back. Balthus stared at Adrianna and she nodded once.

"Luse Head Rock to Brightmoor Castle, eh?" Balthus said, stroking his beard. "A two-to-three week journey. That will put us but several days travel from Jarvus City and the King." He took a long drink of wine, then nodded. "Looks like that would fit very nicely into our plans. I've a mind to tell King Justin a few things about how to run his kingdom."

"Good. It's settled, then," said Dieya. Relief swept over his face. "You will need supplies for the trip." He pulled out a heavy purse and dropped it on the table. "My friends are ill-equipped for this journey and need everything, from luses to clothing. They have nothing of their own of worth. Purchase everything as if they were only wearing socks."

"Only socks? I hope they are all women," said Balthus with a side glance at Adrianna. She arched an eyebrow at his remark.

"Actually, one is a woman," said Dieya. "She is about Adrianna's size, one man is my size and the other is shorter and heavier. They will need weapons also. Swords, dirks, chainmail, helms, whatever you think they might need for a journey. If the road looks dangerous, hire guards. I want my friends make the journey in good health. Their names are Janelle, Bo and Rory. Rory is the shorter of the three. They are Sargum Pilgrims."

Different sounding names, thought Adrianna, even for Sargum Pilgrims.

Dieya stood to leave.

"Dieya, you can't leave so soon," she said. "You just got here."

"Yes, man, think of your body," said Balthus, banging his fist on the table. "It must be fueled!"

Dieya closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "You two are corrupting me." He sighed. "I haven't paid this much attention to food for decades."

"Then we have a lot of catching up to do," said Balthus as he rose and led them to the dining room.

CHAPTER 44

Janelle stared up at the stone formation. She could imagine an animal's face if she squinted hard. "So that's what a luse looks like."

"I can't see anything in that pile of rocks that looks like anything," said Rory.

They had entered the valley a little after dawn. It was pleasantly green and cool after their walk through the hot wasteland. The trees grew larger the further from the desert they traveled, and the shade was welcome.

"I think this must be the place." Bo pointed to the rock. "That could be a long nose with eyes set just about where those protrusions are."

"Who said luses have eyes?" asked Rory.

Janelle sighed. "How long do you think we will have to wait for our guide?"

"We have food for another day," said Bo. "And there must be a stream around here somewhere. We might as well wait until the food runs out, because we sure don't know where to go from here."

"Roger that," said Rory. "Sir, how do you feel about the Dieya's order to break down and discard the laser? I, for one, would like to hold on to it. I can do without the capwear, but I would feel really naked without the laser."

"Do as the Dieya says," interjected Janelle. "He knows better than we do. If you're seen firing that thing, we might get burned as witches or something."

"Or we could get killed because we didn't have it," said Rory. He shrugged. "So either way we're slag."

"Decide later, after we've met our guide," said Bo, as he laid down in the shade. "We'll have a better idea after we see what he's like."

"Probably be a smelly, hide-wearing brute sent just to torment us, if I can read the Dieya right," said Rory, sitting next to Bo. "Trust me."

"If the Dieya sends some oaf as a guide, you can believe it's best for this mission," said Janelle. "Trust me!"

Rory looked pensive for a moment, then shrugged.

Janelle drew first guard duty and both marines caught a nap. As she kept watch, she found her thoughts drifting to the Dieya.

She wished she had learned his name.

Balthus had heard enough. He slowly heaved himself toward a larger ledge where he could easily make his descent and rejoin Adrianna. He thought he'd been discovered when "Bo" drew everyone's attention to Luse Head Rock where he had been hiding and eavesdropping for the last hour.

These "friends" of Dieya weren't dangerous to himself and Adrianna, but they certainly needed supplies and guidance. As he climbed down, he wondered if he would fit the description of a "brute" when he introduced himself. He hurried down to Adrianna.

"Well, what are they like?" Adrianna asked when Balthus returned to their camp.

He shook his head. "These are some of the strangest folk I've ever encountered." Adrianna handed him a water skin and he took a long drink. "They act like they are newly born into the world. They're using words I've never heard before like 'laser' and 'capwear' and they pronounce these words in a strange sing-song tongue." He took another drink of water and wiped his mouth on his arm. "They keep referring to Dieya as 'The Dieya,' like it's some kind of title."

He started to strap his leather armor on and stopped, remembering the remark about wearing hides.

"What's wrong?" asked Adrianna.

He related the exchange about the hide-wearing brute, and more of the overheard conversation.

She listened intently. "It seems they don't fully trust Dieya either," she said. "Some friends he has."

"Yes, the female, Janelle, feels that Dieya is 'dedicated to his mission.' Where have I heard that before?"

"It seems that we might have quite a lot in common with these strangers," said Adrianna.

"You haven't heard the best one yet," he said.

She waited while Balthus chuckled.

"They don't know what a luse is!"

"What? Seriously? They must have been living in a cave or – " She stopped suddenly, a stunned look on her face.

"Or what?" he asked.

Adrianna studied the ground. "Or..." She worried a rock with her toe for a while before looking up at Balthus. "Or they have never been to Ravar before," she said quietly.

He had his helmet raised halfway to his head and stopped to stare. "Scary thought, woman. Scary thought! But if they're not from here, where are they from? Somewhere – ?" He waved his hand to the sky. Balthus studied Adrianna's expression. "Is that your intuition, or a just stray thought?" His face scrunched up. "Do you think they could be Travelers? Like in the ancient tales?"

She didn't say anything else and he didn't press her. Balthus knew she would keep her own council until she could better formulate an answer.

Adrianna had said she had a strange feeling about Dieya ever since she met him. She said she felt like he just didn't belong here. Balthus had thought it was just because he was a sorcerer, but now... He shook his head to clear these troubling thoughts.

"Well, no matter," said Balthus. "Bo is the tallest of the three, early into manhood. Janelle is a little older and seems soft, unhardened. Rory is the shortest one in the bunch and has the moves of a warrior. They are all unarmored, so take the small crossbow. If anything untoward occurs, put a bolt into Rory – he's the one we'd need to put down first."

She nodded and went to unpack it.

"I'm glad to be out of that desert," said Janelle, fanning herself. "And doubly relieved to be out of that scout suit." She rubbed her face at the memory. "But I can't imagine what it would have been like out there without our capwear. I'm glad the Dieya left us those."

"I'm sure he did it so he wouldn't have to carry us," said Rory.

"Slack, Strikedag, slack," said Bo, smiling. "Remember, he's our ticket home."

"Hello pilgrims!" shouted a voice from the east.

They jumped to their feet and Rory slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe. "Easy, Rory," said Janelle. Rory nodded without taking his eyes from the trail.

A hundred feet away, a large man with a short, light-brown beard emerged from around a bush, waving both arms high over his head. He wore a sword at his side and a horned helmet on his shaggy head. He was dressed in what looked to be leather armor. He waved again and repeated the greeting as he walked closer.

"I don't think we should try wrestling that one," said Janelle, eyeing the bulging muscles of the stranger's bare arms.

"Do you think that's our guide?" asked Bo.

"I'll find out," said Rory, moving toward the stranger.

"Hi, Rory," said the stranger. "How are Bo and Janelle faring? Our mutual friend Dieya asked us to meet you."

"Us?" said Rory, glancing around quickly. Balthus closed to within ten feet of Rory.

"Of course, Rory. You have the look of a fighting man. Would you enter a strange camp that bugger Dieya sent you into without backup? How about you take your fist out from your pocket and we'll shake hands and be friends." Rory hesitated a moment, then extended his empty hand.

Balthus shook Rory's hand and looked him in the eye, judging the smaller man in the pilgrim's robe. Balthus liked Rory's self-confident, yet watchful attitude.

"I'm Balthus," he said, stabbing a thumb toward himself. "And you must be Janelle and Bo," he said over Rory's shoulder. He walked past Rory and approached the others. "Balthus," he said, shaking Bo's hand. Balthus moved to Janelle and took her hand in his. Bowing low with a flourish, he kissed her hand. "Welcome, Lady Janelle, to Luse Head Rock. I hope your journey hasn't been too arduous for such a delicate creature as yourself." He held her hand in both of his and smiled.

"Uh... thank you," stammered Janelle. A blush rose on her neck.

Balthus released her hand and stepped toward Rory. "Let me introduce my friend and consort, Adrianna." He patted Rory on the shoulder and gestured with his other hand to a tree not ten feet away. Adrianna stepped from behind the trunk, crossbow pointed to the ground, right hand raised, in a gesture of peace. Rory twitched at her close proximity and reached into his pocket again. The large hand on his shoulder tightened like a vise.

"I'm very fond of the lass and I wouldn't want any harm to befall her – nor you," whispered Balthus in Rory's ear. "So please, I'd like to see an empty hand come out of your robe. Relax. We are not your enemy. We are here to help." He eased the pressure on Rory's shoulder as Rory slowly withdrew his empty hand.

Balthus walked to Adrianna, placed an arm around her waist and addressed the group. "Friends of Dieya. If you will follow us, we have clothes, arms, better food, and, oh yes, luses." He looked directly at Janelle. "Yes, luses," he repeated. Balthus turned and with an arm still around Adrianna, walked deeper down the valley trail.

"Do you think it's safe to turn our backs to them?" asked Adrianna.

"I think by doing so we have gained some trust. Besides, I don't think there is any danger from them now that they've seen my charming side."

She elbowed him. "Should I see if they are following?"

"Naah," he grunted. "Where else do they have to go?"

"What do you think?" asked Bo watching Balthus and Adrianna walk away.

"I think the degree of sophistication on this world is higher than we might have thought," said Janelle. She still felt the gentle touch of Balthus' iron-hard hands on hers. His charisma had surprised and confused her.

"I'm glad they're on our side," said Rory. "Those two are good enough for recon."

"Yes, and did you pick up on that comment he made to Janelle about luses?" said Bo. "They must have been eavesdropping while we were waiting for them. He wanted to let us know that he knew."

"I think we've been making a mistake equating low technology with low intelligence," said Janelle. "The pre-industrial ages on most planets produced some of the most ingenious and cunning characters there ever were. We must be careful and follow the Dieya's instructions – ask no questions, give vague answers."

Rory chuckled. "Ingenious and cunning bastards are produced in any age, Ma'am. But we'll be careful." He rubbed his stomach. "That big character mentioned better food and I'd like to see what he means. Let's join them." With nods all round they jogged to Balthus and Adrianna.

As they neared, Adrianna dropped back to Janelle while Bo and Rory flanked Balthus.

"I think what I chose for you to wear will fit well," said Adrianna. "It will be comfortable for the trip and will look smashing on you."

Janelle didn't know why, but she felt safer and more relaxed now that these two had joined them. Bo and Rory might be used to joining different commands and working with different groups, but she wasn't. She felt less the stranger with Balthus and Adrianna than when first thrown together with the marines.

She studied Adrianna and realized that Balthus might be the spokesman for the pair, but Adrianna was the strength. It made her want to know more about them. "You seem a good team. Have you and Balthus been together long?" asked Janelle.

"Oh, over a dozen years," said Adrianna. "All my life, really. The rest of the time I guess I was just waiting for him to show up."

Janelle smiled.

"How about you, Janelle. Are you consort or wife to either Bo or Rory?"

"Goodness, no," said Janelle, and chuckled.

"What brings the three of you together?" asked Adrianna.

"We –" began Janelle, then hesitated. "We're just traveling together." Her monotone response was too hurried. She would have to be careful around Adrianna's disarming manner.

Balthus glanced back and saw Adrianna and Janelle deep in conversation. He smiled. Now it was his turn to work on the men and unravel the puzzle Dieya had handed them. "Gentlemen. I suggest a change of clothes, a light meal and perhaps we can make a few miles before nightfall. How well do you ride?"

"Ride?" said Bo.

"Yes, you know, luses," said Balthus.

"I never, ah – " stammered Bo.

"We are simple pilgrims, and usually walk," interrupted Rory. "We are untrained at riding, but eager to learn."

Balthus figured as much and changed tactics. "How long have you known our good friend the Dieya?"

"Not long," Bo replied. "He was kind enough to help us poor pilgrims on our travels."

"Yes, that's the Dieya," said Balthus, nodding. "Always willing to help the needy." He noticed that neither of the two men reacted when he used Dieya's name as a title.

"I hope the clothes fit you well enough. We brought an assortment that should do. What is your best weapon? I hope we brought what you favor," Balthus said, looking expectantly for an answer.

"Well, ahh," again stammered Bo. "Being peaceful pilgrims, we have little skill of arms," he said, falling back on the same theme.

Balthus saw that Bo's guard was up, and would let it go for now.

"I might be of some use with the crossbow Adrianna carries," said Rory, "and I'm not bad with a knife."

"Good," said Balthus. "I'm not bad with a knife myself, but Adrianna's the champion in our household."

Rory looked back and Balthus saw him re-evaluating Adrianna. He was judging her now as a fighter instead of just a woman. Her strong limbs and a torso built for speed were obvious to anyone looking for it.

Rory grunted approvingly. "Not a bad person to have at your back."

Balthus grinned. "Not too bad to have at the front either."

"Hey!" yelled Adrianna. "Keep it kind, Balthus, or you can cook your own supper."

Balthus laughed.

They approached the stand of trees where the luses were tethered. "This," said Balthus as he grabbed the halter of the closest animal, "is a luse." The filly searched his hand for a treat and finding none, went back to her grazing.

Janelle gaped at the nine animals tethered on a long line, then reached up to stroke the nearest one's neck. "Do we need so many to pull the conveyance?"

"Eh? Pull the – oh, no, dear lady. There are few carriage roads on our route. Dieya said you must get to Brightmoor Castle as soon as possible. A carriage would add weeks to our travels. No, we will ride on the luse's back," said Balthus, slapping the same. Pretending not to notice the horrified look on Janelle's face, he continued, "And there's not too many. One for each of us, two pack animals, and two spares."

Bo held a luse's halter and was rubbing its nose.

"If you like that one, Bo, it's yours," said Balthus.

Bo turned to Balthus, a sparkle in his eye. "These are powerful animals."

"Aye, that's why you have to get the bull in on them first," said Balthus. "Let them know who's in charge and you'll have no problem. They are not very bright, but the only thing dumber than a luse is the man on its back who doesn't take charge."

Bo grinned at Rory. "These are almost like runegas back on Signalia Six. I was stationed there for a year and learned to ride them." He patted his luse's neck. "This should be fun!"

Balthus caught the flinch Rory made at Bo's remark but ignored it. "That's the way, Bo!" said Balthus, shaking a fist. "Take charge. Show them who's the master and that's half the battle." Balthus noticed that the words runega and Signalia Six were spoken in that odd tonal quality they used when saying words that Balthus had never heard before. He added that to his growing collection of puzzle pieces.

"Balthus," called Adrianna. "Let's get our charges into some decent clothes and then we'll see about dinner."

Balthus opened a sack and began pulling out clothing. He looked Rory over and dug some more in another pack. "Here, Rory, try these on for size. If the boots don't fit, we have smaller and larger sizes." He continued to root around in the packs.

Adrianna handed a bundle to Janelle. "What's in here should fit. There are several sizes of each item, so you should be all right. Balthus asked the men, but he overlooked you, so I'll ask. Do you have any favorite weapon? We have quite an assortment."

"Well, not really. I can handle myself hand-to-hand very well, but a sword or bow..." She just shrugged.

Adrianna nodded. Janelle didn't look as though she had ever touched a sword. "Well, we'll have you up for a few lessons before each meal. It is handy to know how to hurt a man." She glanced over to Balthus who had most of his head in a large pack. "Especially if you have a consort."

Janelle laughed as Balthus' head came out of the pack. He held up a boot like a trophy, but a stocking hanging from one of the horns on his helmet ruined the image he no doubt hoped to portray.

Janelle loosened her sash but stopped when Adrianna grabbed her arm. She led Janelle away from the encampment.

"Where are we headed?" asked Janelle.

"Well, it appears you are not prudish, but I prefer to keep Balthus' eyes safe."

"Safe?" she asked.

"Safe from me prying them out of his head," said Adrianna.

"Oh! I've made a social error." She held up her hands. "I didn't mean to offend."

"It is all right. I'm not much of a prude myself, but it never hurts to keep men guessing – and I mean about everything."

When they reached a secluded area, Janelle began to open her robe, but as she glanced down, she yanked the robe closed. She smiled at Adrianna. "Would it be all right if I asked you to turn around for just a second?"

"Of course," said Adrianna, turning her back. Immodest one moment, then shy the next? Adrianna wondered what was under Janelle's robe that she didn't want seen.

"Okay," said Janelle a short time later. "You'll have to help me figure this out."

Adrianna turned. Janelle was dressed from the waist down, but was trying to figure out the straps and ties on the shirt and tunic.

"Here, let me help. You have to put this on first," she said, helping pull the shirt over Janelle's head. "Then the straps tie here. Turn around." Adrianna tied the straps behind Janelle. "Tying it like this helps keep your breasts from becoming sore after all the bouncing on luseback. There," she said, finishing. "Now the short leather tunic goes over the whole thing." She belted a small eating knife at Janelle's waist and stepped back. "Let me see how you look."

Janelle presented herself, then turned around in a typical female motion. "Do I look all right?" she asked with a smile. "These clothes are more comfortable than I thought they would be." She wore knee-length brown leather boots, forest green leggings, matching long-sleeve shirt and a brown leather tunic.

"Fetching, very fetching," said Adrianna, picking up the pilgrim's robe while Janelle adjusted her boot top. "Do the boots fit all right?" said Adrianna, as they walked back toward the camp.

"They fit fine, but do they need to be so long?" asked Janelle, glancing down.

"You'll wish they were even longer and more padded after a day of rubbing your legs on a saddle." Adrianna stopped and adjusted her own boot top. Janelle continued walking, occasionally stomping down in her new boots.

"Is riding difficult?" asked Janelle, turning back to Adrianna.

Adrianna caught up to Janelle and handed her the rolled-up robe. "It's like anything else, it just takes time, practice and – oh, what now?"

They entered the clearing and Adrianna stifled a laugh with her hand. Janelle was not so kind. The three men stood facing each other. Bo and Rory had been outfitted with new clothes. All wore shirts and leather armor, and all had their trousers down to their knees. Trousers were quickly raised at Janelle's laughter.

"Are you showing off again, Balthus?" asked Adrianna as they joined the men.

"Nay, Lass," said Balthus, frustration lacing his voice. "These dafts don't even know what a crotch bag is, let alone how to tie one properly." He looked annoyed and hooked a thumb in Bo's direction. "This one thought it was a hat!"

"Sorry," said a sheepish Bo.

Adrianna shook her head. If Balthus had one fault, and he had many, it was his inability to teach anything that wasn't a weapon or a luse. "It looked as if they have it right now," she said. "A few straps need adjusting, that's all. Balthus, why don't you start dinner. I'm sure they can figure the rest out by themselves."

Balthus took a deep breath and nodded. "Aye, I'll get some water." He headed off toward the stream with a large cook pot.

Rory finished dressing and reached for Janelle's rolled-up robe. "I'll take that, Janelle." He tucked the robe under his arm. "I'll just put it with the others." He walked out of the camp and Adrianna watched him.

"Adrianna," said Janelle, moving to her side. "Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?"

Adrianna broke her gaze from Rory's back and turned to Janelle. She hesitated, hearing the question for the first time. "Why, yes, you can," she replied. She opened a pack and handed Janelle a brace of long-eared harbills. "You can skin these. It will give you some practice with your knife."

Janelle held the dead animals away from her as if they were on fire.

"I'll do it, Ma'am," said Bo. He took the game from Janelle and followed Balthus to the stream.

Rory returned without the robes but with an armload of firewood.

"Build the fire right where you're standing," said Adrianna.

Rory scrubbed a small area with his boot and started building a fire pit. He was staring at a nicely built little pyramid of twigs by the time Balthus returned with a pot full of water.

"If you light it, you get a warmer fire," said Balthus.

"I seem to be without the means," said Rory.

Balthus reached into his pouch, tossed him a flat metal container, and walked off into the woods. Rory opened the container to find flint, steel, and a little cotton wadding. "Oh boy," he said uneasily.

When Balthus returned, his helmet brimming full of wild tubers, olands and herbs, he found a very red-faced Rory blowing on sparks. "Let me show you how." Balthus sparked the flint on the steel and had a fire going in moments. "You do it two or three times a day and by the end of our journey, you won't give it a second thought." Balthus walked back to the stream to wash the vegetables.

"We take a lot for granted, don't we," said Janelle, kneeling by Rory's side.

"We sure do, Ma'am. I've had survival training courses that lasted several months, but these people have lived it all their lives. They're hard and tough. They would make good marines."

Janelle smiled. "High praise indeed, Strikedag."

Adrianna had come up behind them and overheard the exchange. She backed away and approached again, this time rattling the camp gear. She would relay this bit of conversation and the oddly spoken term "Strikedag" to Balthus.

Bo returned with the skinned and cleaned harbills. Adrianna had him cut them into small pieces and place them in a pan. When Bo finished, she set the pan on a metal grill over the fire and gave the pan a shake.

As the rich aroma of cooking meat filled the clearing, Adrianna heard Bo's stomach growl. She glanced up and found him staring at the grill. "It won't be too long," she said.

"Sorry." He rubbed his stomach. "That smells really wonderful."

Balthus returned and cut the cleaned vegetables into the pot of water.

"Do we have time for fresh bread," Adrianna asked, "or do we use what we brought?"

"Let's use up what we brought. When that runs out, we can cook more." Balthus stood and stretched. "Well Lads," he hesitated, then bowed to Janelle, "and lady. Perhaps we might learn a little about protecting ourselves while the water boils."

"The horns on your helmet could serve as an extra weapon," said Rory. "Can I get a horned one too?"

"Certainly," said Balthus. "I will arrange the match at the first town we come to."

"Match?" asked Rory.

"Aye. First you find a bull brema that has the horns you like. Then it's traditional to battle the bull and kill him with your bare hands. You snap off the horns and add them to your helmet. Simple."

Rory stared wide-eyed at Balthus.

Adrianna didn't look up from her cooking. "Or we can buy one at the next merchant's stall we come across, like Balthus did."

"Oh, Lass," said Balthus. He shook his head and pointed to Rory. "I had him. Did you see his face? I had him cold! You spoil all my fun." He laughed heartily while lifting several large bundles from the pile of supplies.

"Now, on to battle!" He spread out the bundles, laying out dirks, short swords, long swords, a battleaxe, rapiers and a bastard sword. As he arranged them on the cloth, he went on like a pitchman at the Merchants' Fair. "Lady and Gents, step right up and see if any weapon suits your fancy. Each one is a finely-honed killing tool, guaranteed to strike fear into an enemy and inspire loyalty in a friend. Pick each one up and see how it feels in your hand."

One by one the trio moved down the row of weapons, handling each and sometimes giving an experimental swing or two. When they had finished, he said, "Take another look. It could be all that stands between you and perdition." Balthus watched each one closely as they handled the arms, mentally matching person to weapon. "Have you found anything that seems to feel right? You don't have to know how to use it but your body will tell you what feels good. Bo?"

"Well," said Bo, picking up the bastard sword, "this seems right. Gives me good balance."

"Janelle?" he asked.

Janelle picked up the poniard hesitantly. "I like this big knife. I don't know much about knives, but I could scare someone with this, or possibly block a sword."

"Rory?"

"I like this short sword." He lunged once with the sword, then put it down and picked up the battleaxe. "But this calls to me." He gave the air several swipes and grinned.

"It suits you, Rory," said Adrianna. "It really does."

"Then I'll tell you what else you need..." Balthus rummaged through the weapons. "Ah, here it is." Balthus handed Rory a two-foot long, thick-edged knife. The guard was bent back toward the point at least six inches on each side. "That is called a 'sword breaker.' It's the perfect balance to an axe. You have the strength to swing the axe but you need protection from attack. A shield is clumsy, hard to carry and can get in the way. The sword breaker makes you dangerous from either hand."

Rory examined the bent guard. "How is it used?" he asked.

"Bo, come at Rory very slowly with an overhand strike. Take care though, that bastard is sharp." Bo did as asked and halfway down Balthus halted his arm.

"Rory, say you are off balance; you have just missed with a slash. You pull back for another attack but down comes Bo's sword. You can step back, but Bo would run you through with his next step. The best defense is to turn aside the blow with the sword breaker." Balthus nodded and Bo continued his slow downward swing. Rory deflected the blow and Bo's sword slid down inside the curved guard of Rory's knife. "That's right. Now Rory, twist your wrist." Rory did and the sword blade caught between Rory's blade and its guard. "Now, and why the sword breaker is so named, you can swing your axe and shatter his blade."

In slow motion, Rory swung his axe toward Bo's sword. "Right," said Balthus. "But never bother doing so unless you want to disarm your man. You might not succeed and that will leave you off balance for an attack from his left hand. The best thing to do is swing your axe down and hack the knee. Don't go for a side smash, tempting as it is, you might get your axe stuck in his armor. With any luck you can take off the leg. Either way, a one legged man can't swing a sword very well, and when he is down you can finish him off quickly and easily."

Growing apprehension filled Janelle as she watched the lesson. It was one thing to burn down a battle droid from a quarter mile away, but quite another to stick a sword into another human being. Abhorrence forced words from her mouth. "But once your opponent is down, shouldn't the fight be over?"

Balthus stared at her, then sighed. "No, dear Lady, especially if there are more foes to fight."

"Never leave an enemy behind you," said Bo. "Bad idea."

"That's right, Ma'am," agreed Rory. "In a melee fight an opponent on the ground can trip you or hold your legs long enough for his buddy to kill you."

"'Tis sad but true, Lass." Balthus walked to her, put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him and stared intensely into her eyes. "If a man comes at you with a weapon, he is trying to kill you. You can't reason with him. You can't argue with him. The only thing you can do is kill him."

With reluctance, Janelle realized that what she saw as brutality was just the common sense of survival. The weight of Balthus' words added to the conflict warring within her. Her mind screamed: I'm just an information analyst, not a combat soldier! But you hold a gold Denwabi ring in pressure-point combat. I only took those classes for exercise! But you're a Commander in the Human Alliance League. I just wanted to study other cultures!

Her emotional pendulum lunged back-and-forth, then slowed. The experience aboard the Kraken dreadnought had changed her. The reality of the situation descended on her like a cloak and settled on her shoulders. Her sensibilities were shocked, but her mind closed around the harsh necessity of survival. She felt herself go cold and rock-hard inside.

She could do it.

Janelle stared into Balthus' eyes and determination replaced the turmoil on her face. Balthus straightened at her change, then put his arms around her and gave her a hug. She was surprised, but grateful. He pushed her away, but still held her shoulders. "It's just how things are, Lass."

She clenched her teeth and nodded.

Balthus began her poniard instructions.

Balthus sidestepped Bo's lunge. "Good, Lad! Your form is improving." Balthus patted Bo on the back. After a short hour his charges had picked up the basics and were developing their own style. Whoever these folks were they certainly learned fast.

"Supper's ready!" called Adrianna.

They sat around the fire and Balthus passed out wooden bowls and spoons. "You are in for a treat. Adrianna makes the finest camp stew this side of the Ligour Teeth Mountains." Adrianna ladled out the stew and everyone ate heartily.

"This is delicious," said Janelle. Rory and Bo grunted their approval but didn't stop eating to verbalize any other accolades.

Balthus waved his spoon at the men. "You lads did fine today, for a first time. You seem to be in good condition –" he looked down into his bowl, "– for pilgrims, that is." He raised his head and grinned.

Rory and Bo grinned back.

Balthus glanced at the sky. "It looks like we won't be putting any distance under foot today," he said to Adrianna.

"It's just as well," she said. "We need time to get the tack organized and establish riding order."

"Not to mention an early start on tomorrow's riding lessons," said Balthus, nodding.

"Why does it matter who rides where?" asked Janelle.

"To best protect the column," answered Bo, "you need a good point man and rear guard. The center folks need to know what to do in different situations."

"We'll discuss tactics later," said Balthus. He looked at the trio, assessing what he had learned about each one. "You folks seem as well versed as veteran troopers."

"For pilgrims, that is," said Rory, meeting his glance.

"Well, we weren't always pilgrims, Balthus," said Bo. "Some of us led different lives before taking up the pilgrimage."

"Ah," said Balthus, "I understand. I, too, once considered the priesthood."

"You never!" exclaimed Adrianna, her spoon dropping into her bowl.

"It's true, Love. My mother took me to a temple once. A cleric passed around a plate and people filled it with silver. Right then I thought of being of a priest."

Everyone chuckled.

"Are you from around here, Balthus?" asked Bo.

I would like to ask you that question and get a straight answer, thought Balthus. "I come from Steradam, a little town northwest a ways. My family owns good farmland near there. I was the youngest and wildest of three boys and two girls and was never cut out to be a farmer. I remember my father saying to me, 'Son – '"

"'Get out,'" said Adrianna.

"Before that," replied Balthus with a sideways glance at Adrianna. He continued in a deep voice, "'Son, farming is what we do here. If you want to stay, you have to be a farmer.' So when I turned fourteen, I left to find my own way."

"We come from far away and know almost nothing of these lands," said Janelle. "Perhaps you might tell us a little about the people and the land we will be passing through on our way to Brightmoor Castle."

Bo glanced at her and nodded.

Balthus decided to draw them into a discussion, hoping they might say something that would fill in another piece of this Dieya puzzle. "Well..." Balthus stroked his beard and launched into a geography lesson. "We will be traveling northwest and that land is mostly forest and farmland. As for the realm in general, the King's capital, Jarvus, is further northwest, as are most of the gentry's lands. To the northeast are the Arvari of the deep forests, the woodland people. The east has the border barons on the edge of the Great Grass Plains. Further east of the border barons are the Sevoal tribes. They are a nomadic people, but I've never seen them so I can't tell you much about them."

He scraped his bowl clean and placed it aside. "The southwestern dry wastes hold Torbu, Morgur and Stembuck. Those arid lands are not much use to humans. To the south lies Kyndia, a land of desert-dwelling people who are hard fighters. They have tried incursions into our lands from time to time but have always been driven back." He stopped and took a long pull from a wineskin. "The Kyndians tell us of stranger lands to the south of them, but what's down there is pretty much unknown to us."

"We don't have Torbu, and other creatures you mentioned in our lands," said Janelle. "Tell us about them."

"Torbu are a race of underground-dwelling maggots that should be exterminated," said Balthus. "They are always at war with the big moss-colored Morgur. The Morgur are not much better, but at least you can befriend a Morgur and he will share his drink. Torbu are just filthy blue brutes."

"With black eyes?" asked Rory.

"Yes," said Balthus, "but the black is only a natural shade that covers their eyes in sunlight. At night, their eyes shine red." He took another swig from the wineskin and passed it around. "I take it you have seen the mean blue folk."

"Yes, we have," answered Janelle.

"I'm glad you had a good hiding place. Be careful when hiding though, they have a good sense of smell. That's how they do most of their hunting."

"How did you know we hid?" asked Bo.

Balthus shrugged. "You had no weapons and carry no wounds. If you had encountered even one Torbu, you would have taken some hurt. They are nasty little creatures." He tore off a piece of bread with his strong white teeth before continuing. "Now, Morgurs..."

The lesson continued until the stew pot was empty.

Adrianna collected the dirty dishes and made her way toward the stream.

"Need some help?" asked Bo.

"No, thank you, Bo. Stay and listen to Balthus, he works better with an audience." She smiled and walked away.

"Tell us about the Stembuck and the Arvari," said Janelle.

"Stembuck! Vicious creatures," said Balthus. "They are about half again my size and immensely strong. Light brown furless creatures with small spiked horns. They are solitary hunters and their weapon of choice is a club, though their claws could easily rip a man open. They eat anything they catch from horned-lopers to men. They are not dumb animals; they have an intelligence of sorts. They are crafty hunters, and very fast."

Balthus watched their faces while he spoke. He could see recognition with his description of the Stembuck. If these people had faced a Stembuck and survived, they had not entered the wasteland unarmed. He decided to continue to wax eloquent, and see if he could learn anything else.

Adrianna finished washing the dishes in the stream, and turned to make sure she was alone. Stepping behind a tree, she pulled out the box that Janelle had secreted inside the discarded robe. She tapped the gray metal experimentally. No, not metal, she decided, examining the box more closely. Several inches square and only a half-inch thick, it wasn't constructed of any material she knew. There were two small holes on the top and a larger one on the side. The larger one wasn't actually a hole, she noticed on closer scrutiny but was a black circle with eight smaller holes in it. She tried to open the box, but it seemed to be of one piece. She stared at it a moment longer then put it back in her tunic.

"...and they have such a grace about them, it's amazing," Balthus was saying, as Adrianna came back into camp.

"Who, me?" asked Adrianna.

"No. Well, yes, you do, but I was telling them about the Arvari. We really must go visit them someday," reflected Balthus.

"He can't have told you much about them," said Adrianna. "He has never met one. He's only relating tales he has heard. I bet he didn't tell you about their dislike of strangers or that many a man has gone to see them, never to return."

"I'm sure they were dolts who didn't have my charm." Balthus smiled, then shrugged. "It's true, they are a lovely but harsh folk." He stared into the distance and whimsy coupled with desire seeped onto his face. "I have wanted to meet them since I was a small child." He broke his stare and sighed. "Perhaps someday I will."

Balthus shook himself and glanced toward the setting sun. "Humm, I seem to have talked the day away. Perhaps we should turn in and get an early start tomorrow."

He rose and distributed blankets. "In the morning, I will show you how to roll your sleeping gear together then tie it onto your saddle."

"Balthus," said Bo, "should we take turns standing watch?"

"No need," he said. "Not in this locale, anyway. The Torbu and Stembuck will not enter the forests. The only thing of danger here would be bandits. If we are raided in the middle of the night though, don't wake me up dispatching the rogues, will you?" He laughed, put an arm around Adrianna and they strolled into the dark.

They spread their blankets in a secluded spot and Adrianna nestled in the crook of Balthus' arm. "What did you find out?" she whispered.

He sighed. "These folk are as ignorant of this part of the world as a Kyndian. They came out of the dry lands; that's true. How they got there is a mystery. I thought it some strange nudity taboo when the men wanted to shed their robes unseen, but both of them strolled back naked as babes a few minutes later." He shook his head. "Sargum Pilgrims they are not. I made up a story about another sect and described the beliefs of the Sargum. They never batted an eye." He furrowed his brows in thought then brightened as he remembered more. "I would lay you odds that they have killed at least a Stembuck and probably some Torbu. The two men were, or are, soldiers of some kind. They think and act as such, anyway."

"But what do they use for weapons?" she asked. "They seem to know nothing about them."

Balthus shrugged. "They could be lying but I don't think so. Rory, the older one, defers to the younger. And they both defer to the woman, I'd say. No matter how you look at it, they are not from around here." He stroked his beard. "Do you think they are Sorcerers, like Dieya?"

"I don't know." She pursed her lips. "If they were Sorcerers, we wouldn't need to be escorting them."

"Apprentice sorcerers who can't vanish?"

"No, there's too much secrecy," she said, unlacing her tunic.

"Oh, sweetheart, and I thought you didn't love me anymore," he said.

"I never did, you scoundrel," she laughed, and pulled out Janelle's gray box. "This is part of what was under her robe. The rest felt like clothing, very silky clothing."

Balthus examined the box in the lingering light. "Did you try to open it?" he asked.

She nodded. "It seems to be made of one piece. I'll try again tomorrow."

"We still have tonight," he said with a leer.

"In your dreams, maybe," she said and rolled over.

Balthus lay on his back gazing at the stars, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He knew he would need more information before he could figure this one out. Well, it sure is getting to be "interesting," as Dieya put it. He wondered what trouble Dieya was up to at that moment.

CHAPTER 45

Dieya strode through the burned out wreckage of Eastedge Stronghold, his fists clenched in rage. Eastedge had been one of Baron Genardt's garrisons. Genardt was one of three Border Barons helping to maintain control of the King's eastern provinces. Their position on the edge of the Great Grass Plains had kept raiders and the Sevoal tribes in check for decades.

Until now.

From the condition of the bodies, the attack must have been well over a week ago but the foul smell and swarming flies still lingered. He walked with jaw set from room to room, looking for survivors or any sign of the raider's identity. Bodies lay where they had fallen. He thought the nursery was the most horrific sight until he got to the chapel. This was where the Keep warlord and his stalwarts had held to the last. The charred, tortured bodies were piled in a heap in the center of the floor. A trail of blood marked the path of one man who crawled away while burning alive.

Dieya stepped into the chapel sanctuary. One defender's body, filled with a dozen wounds, lay on the floor. The ground outside the door was thick with dried blood. The broken sword in the dead man's hand held a score of nicks. Dieya gave solemn homage to this warrior. He had sent many foes to the abyss before him and no one would sing of his valor.

A glint of light shone between the fingers of the fallen hero's clutched left hand. Dieya pried open the man's fingers and removed the item. It was an elaborate Arvari-made jeweled brooch, used for holding a cloak closed. A scrap of leather still remained in the clasp. When his sword broke, the warrior must have grappled with his opponent and torn loose the brooch.

Dieya examined the Arvari markings on the brooch. "For Isundir's Love" was inscribed in the silver surrounding a green emerald. He looked once more to the fallen warrior, and nodded. Perhaps his death would not have been in vain. Placing the brooch in his pouch, he walked out to the courtyard, his thoughts churning. Who did this? This area had been quiet for decades. Was this an isolated incident or part of a Kraken agenda?

He examined the smashed and burned outer gate. Only a battering ram could have taken it down. The garrison had been looted and the enemy had taken away their dead. Searching the ground, he found only the tracks of three-toed ehtas, the type of mount ridden by the nomadic tribes.

He idly plucked an arrow from the gate as his thoughts swam. The Sevoal couldn't have stormed a garrison this size. The grassland people were comprised of many small tribes who rarely banded together. They were simple nomads who still used flint arrowheads. Perhaps this was a misdirection to lay blame on the grassland people.

The only clue of the raiders' identity was the shaft he held in his hand. He scrutinized the arrow. Its shaft was completely red, from notch to steel arrowhead. The guards in the outer yard were feathered with them. He knew the nomadic tribes distinctively marked their arrows but he had never heard of a tribe that used the mark of a red arrow. Nor did the Sevoal know the secret of making steel.

Dieya walked through the gate and glanced back at the Keep. The number of bodies didn't account for all the people who would have been living there. He'd have to scour the countryside and look for anyone who had gotten away, or seen what had occurred. If he found no one, he would visit the Arvari and track down the owner of the brooch.

He had no proof but felt deep in his heart that this was somehow the work of the Kraken agent. He looked down at the red arrow in his hand and angrily snapped it in two. Walking toward the distant tree line, he let the pieces fall to the ground.

CHAPTER 46

The sun rose, painting pink underbellies on the few strips of clouds. The night's chill vanished with the light that promised a warm day. Birds and insects welcomed the sun with their song. It was a beautiful day for everyone – except Balthus.

Frustration eroded his patience but he held his tongue. He and Adrianna had saddled all the luses and gotten everyone mounted. He had tried having their charges saddle their own luses, but after a half-hour of instruction and one runaway luse, he found it easier to do it himself. Balthus had passed out iron bowl helmets for each novice rider. He thought it might help if – no, make that when – one of them hit the ground.

"All right," said Balthus. "I will be taking take the lead, then Rory, Janelle and Bo. Adrianna is rear guard, and will mind the spares and pack luses." He checked each rider's stirrup length. "Remember, if you want him to go right, gently pull his head to the right with the reins and push in with your left leg. He will try to move away from the pressure of your leg. Don't leave the pressure on or he will start to ignore that signal. To stop, pull back gently."

Balthus mounted his own luse. "We will start at a walk." He trotted to the front of the line and the group moved forward. Reining his luse to the side, he let them pass and watched their bearing. He kicked his luse and rode next to Janelle.

"Sit up straight, Janelle. Pretend you are the queen, passing in review for the peasants."

Janelle straightened.

"Don't put your entire foot in the stirrup, just rest the ball of your foot on it and push out till your toes point slightly up. That pushes you back in the saddle and makes it tougher to lose your seat."

"This is rather pleasant," said Janelle. "It was a little intimidating at first due to the very size of this animal, but I feel at ease."

"And it's better than walking," he added.

Balthus reined up until Adrianna drew abreast. "I will scout on ahead for a little bit and then we'll try these folks with a little trot." He spurred his luse and soon disappeared from sight.

Balthus came loping back minutes later and gave Adrianna an "all clear" sign. When the trail opened to a small meadow, Balthus rode down the line. "All right, my friends. The best way to make time on a journey like this is to mix up the four gaits of your luse. Let's try a trot. Now kick the sides of your luse gently, then harder, until he breaks into a trot."

The trio followed his instructions and within moments were scattered all over the meadow. "Keep control, don't give them their head!" shouted Balthus. "Rory, grip with your knees! Janelle, don't hawser the reins like that! Don't – ah, I give up."

Janelle's insides were jarring and her eyeballs felt like they would shake loose. She thought something must be terribly wrong. She yanked back on the reins. The luse stopped and tried to back up, eventually turning in a half circle. She tugged until he faced the proper direction, held her breath and kicked him again. She used her reins to bring the animal near Adrianna.

Bo and Rory had better luck. They had turned their animals and were returning to the line.

"Good!" said Balthus as he rode up next to Janelle. "When you need a break, sing out and we'll drop to a walk." He spurred his luse and regained the head of the column. Janelle was beginning to wonder how long she could keep this up when Balthus' loud voice sang out.

"First time on a luse is a desperate dance,

trying to stay on by the seat of your pants.

Think what it's like to carry a lance,

In service to the King.

The nasty beast will trod on your toe.

He's certain to give you nothing but woe.

The pain in your thighs you'll want to forego,

In service to the King."

She tried to concentrate on the lyrics, which grew bawdier by the stanza. By the thirtieth or so, she could take no more. "Balthus!" she yelled, voice quivering. "Can we stop?"

Balthus turned and rode back down the line. "Walk them, walk," he said as he passed each rider. He reined in next to Janelle.

"My dear!" With a hand over his heart he feigned a shocked look. "When you said 'stop,' I hope you meant the trot. I would hate to think you were referring to my singing."

She laughed at his pained expression. "No, I meant the trot," she said, grateful to stop bouncing. "Although, in your last stanza, the description of the young lady's position could scarcely be possible on luseback."

He scratched his beard, remembering the line. "No, no," he said, looking back at Adrianna with a grin, "it's totally possible." He gave Janelle a wink and spurred his luse. He reined in as he came abreast of Rory. "How goes it?" asked Balthus.

"All right. I think I'm getting the hang of flowing with the luse's motion. But it feels like I've been spanked hard for an hour." Rory grinned, as did Balthus.

"I know a woman in Freetown who will do that for you, if you'd like. I hear it's more fun than the first time on a luse," said Balthus with a chuckle. "Tell you what. If you think you can do it, pull your axe out and give it here."

At a walk, Rory had no problem unhooking the battleaxe at his belt. He handed it over. Balthus swung the axe, crossing over the luse's head and down each flank, making figure-eights. He handed the axe back to Rory. "Practice that while we walk the luses. There is nothing so unnerving as a man charging you on luseback swinging a battleaxe. It's a good way to break up infantry formations."

"I can believe that," said Rory taking a practice swing.

Balthus moved ahead a few yards then called back over his shoulder, "And Rory, don't cut off your luse's head. No matter how much you may want to." Balthus broke into a lope and joined Bo, who was doing figure-eights with his sword, having seen Rory's instruction. "You learn fast, Bo," said Balthus. "But you must keep the point of your sword up more on the backhand. The first time your arm grows tired, you'll lop off your mount's ears and the bridle will slide off."

Balthus signaled Adrianna that he was going to scout and rode off.

Adrianna watched him ride away, smiling at how much patience he had training people on luses. She recalled Rolf's story of the Battle of Sumtra during the Border Wars. All through the campaign Balthus favored riding a particular black stallion he had named "Darkness," and was very smug about his riding ability.

The Battle of Sumtra was hard fought and the turning point of the Kyndian incursion. Veterans of the border war always asked one another if they were at Sumtra and used the reply as a measuring stick for bravery. Balthus was to lead the charge that broke the Kyndians that day, but as he waved his sword and yelled "Charge!" his stallion chose that moment to buck mightily, launching him ten feet into the air. Balthus broke his arm in the fall. She imagined his face as his men and riderless luse carried the day with Balthus running to catch up. By the time he arrived at the fight, it was all over. He was even more embarrassed when he was awarded the "Protector of the Realm" medal for his leadership and injuries received that day. Ever since, Balthus was less critical of another's ability on luseback, and he never, ever, rode a black stallion again.

Balthus rode back to Adrianna. "At this rate we won't be there until winter," he said, reining up. "Any ideas?"

"The only thing we can do is push them a little harder and hope to make it up as they develop a better seat."

Balthus nodded. "Did you bring any 'Granny's Helper'?" he asked.

"Yes. When Dieya broached his favor it was the first thing I thought of for some reason."

"Good, then I'll up the pace," he said. "Bring them to a trot again!" he yelled as he rode past the trio.

They rode for several hours through sparse forest and the day warmed. At noon, they stopped by a stream and all gulped water like the luses. Balthus passed out a lunch of hardbread and smoked meat but only he and Adrianna sat down.

"How are we all doing?" asked Balthus.

"Well," said Bo, rubbing his backside, "my butt is sore."

Rory nodded in agreement.

"I don't even want to think about it or I will never get back on that animal," said Janelle.

When they finished eating, Balthus roamed the stream bed and gathered several egg-sized stones, putting them in a pouch at his waist.

"What are the rocks for?" asked Janelle.

"Dinner," said Balthus.

"We're going to eat rocks?"

Balthus smiled and ignored her question. "I know you don't want to hear this, but let us mount up before we get too stiff."

"You never complained about that before," teased Adrianna.

"I use the kingly 'we,' my dear, and you never complained either." He eyed the trio. "All right folks. Let's have at it," he said loudly over the groans.

They rode at a little faster pace, trotting across meadows and walking down forested paths. It was well past midday when they emerged from a trail into a large grassy meadow filled with fluttering blue butterflies. Balthus rode through the meadow in a looping pattern, butterflies fleeing before him.

"Chasing butterflies, Balthus?" yelled Bo.

At that moment Balthus surprised several alarats that broke into flight. With three quick throws he brought down two birds. "Yep," he hollered as he dismounted. Balthus tied the birds to his saddle and continued his looping as they trotted across the meadow.

There were two hours of daylight left when Balthus called a halt for the night. It was long before he normally would, but he had found a good place to camp and felt the trio needed the rest. The campsite had a U-shaped stand of sheltering evergreen trees and a nearby stream that gathered at the base of a rock, forming a small pool. He thought the trio might appreciate a soak after the hot ride. He dismounted, tied his luse to a tree and waited for the others to enter the copse. He stood by to help as each dismounted. He had pushed them hard for the first day and he knew they would be tired and sore. Bo and Rory were all right, just staggering a bit, but Balthus had to catch Janelle as she slid to the ground, almost going to her knees.

"Walking will help, Lass," he said, steadying her. "Keep moving for a bit before you sit down."

"I'll never be able to sit down again," she moaned. He helped walk her around until she was able to stand by herself.

"You've all done very well today," said Balthus in an encouraging voice. "If I were your mother, I would be proud."

"I though you were our mother," said Bo.

"Yes," said Rory with a snort, "he's a mother all right."

"You folks rest and we'll take care of dinner," said Balthus. He hauled down six alarats hanging from his saddle. "All you have to do is pluck these birds and I'll get a fire going. There's one for each of us."

"But there are six," said Bo.

"Aye, we'll have a race to see who gets to eat the last one – a luse race." He grinned at the chorus of moans and refusals. "Well then, since there are no takers, I guess I'll have it. Adrianna," he said, turning to her, "we have time for fresh bread if you'd like."

"I'd like it – and I'd like you to make it," she said.

"I'll get my baker's hat on, quick-like."

Balthus was a bustle of activity as he set up camp and prepared dinner. He encouraged his charges to continue to move about so they didn't stiffen up. Bo and Rory were in better condition than Janelle and gathered wood and helped pluck the birds – Janelle spent the time looking miserable.

Balthus buried a small oven in the fire pit, covered it with dry evergreen needles, and started a fire over it. He placed a large kettle of water near it to heat then cut some green branches. He handed them to Bo who was sitting by the fire.

"Take your belt knife and smooth these down, if you please," asked Balthus. "Spits for the birds," he explained.

Bo's eyes widened with inspiration. "Why don't we use your extra swords as spits," he said.

Pain flashed over Balthus' face. "Hand me one of those sticks, boy," said Balthus. "No, the larger one."

Balthus received the hiclam stick and whacked Bo solidly on the helmet with it. "Stick a sword in a fire?" he yelled and handed back the stick. "Are you crazed? It doesn't take much to lose the temper in a sword, and using it as a spit would kill it. 'Take care of your weapon and it will take care of you!'" admonished Balthus.

Rory laughed and pounded his fist on his knee. "The more things change, the more they remain the same," chuckled Rory. "I bet you've heard Balthus' axiom before, eh Lancelead?"

Bo shook his head and sighed.

Balthus gathered the water bottles and walked toward the stream. Lancelead? Another title? These folks were certainly a puzzle – but he liked puzzles.

Adrianna was rubbing down the luses with dried grass as Balthus walked back with full water bottles. "How are you doing, Love?" he asked.

"Good," she nodded. "I miss you, way up in front all day." She lifted a mare's leg and cleaned the toes with a small brush.

"Tomorrow you can take lead and I'll be rear guard," he said. "I never grow tired of looking at you coming or going."

Adrianna smiled. "Have you discovered anything new about our friends?"

"Have you ever heard the word 'Lancelead'?"

She shook her head.

"Rory called Bo that, and it sounded like a title." Balthus glanced back to the campsite. "The more I watch the two men, the more convinced I am that they are soldiers of some sort, with Bo holding a higher rank. Possibly a noble's son. Rory is clearly the most experienced, and wears several scars on his body. He has a recent injury to his right arm." He raised a finger and his eyes narrowed. "You know, I have been thinking about those scars since I helped him dress yesterday. I didn't give it much thought at first – fighting men have scars aplenty. But today I realized that they look to be made by fire, not a blade."

"People have burn scars," she said in almost a whisper. She paid closer attention to the luse she was tending.

"No Lass, not like yours." He grabbed her from behind and whispered in her ear. "Besides, you know you are the most beautiful woman in the world." He stepped back and slapped her bottom as she laughed.

"No, I'm talking about small burns, one through the right thigh and one alongside his left rib. They look as though they might have been made with a small, red-hot poker." As he stroked his beard in thought, a flash of insight popped his eyes wide. "Yes! A red-hot poker – or possibly a red beam of light like the Baron's!" he said, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Adrianna stopped brushing the luse and stared at him. "But you saw what the red beam did to Estagon. The same would happen to Rory."

Balthus shrugged. "True... Perhaps there is armor that weakens the red beam. Or perhaps –"

"Or perhaps we can rein in your imagination until we get more facts."

Shock crossed his face. "Sweetheart! You know I never let facts get in the way of my beliefs." He looked distracted for a moment then a sly smile grew on his face. "Perhaps there is a way to test our companions."

Adrianna pursued his statement, but he just smiled and wouldn't say more. They finished grooming the luses and returned to the trio.

Balthus tested the heating water with his finger and nodded. He folded a small woolen blanket into a square and placed it into the kettle. Opening a corked glass vial, he added a quarter of its ingredients to the hot water. An unpleasant odor permeated the camp.

"If that's your idea of dinner, I'll beg off," said Janelle.

Balthus spread another blanket in front of a tall rock and motioned to Janelle. "Come over here and pull down your trousers."

"I will not!" Outrage reddened her face.

"Go ahead," said Adrianna, with an amused grin. "I guarantee it will feel good."

Looking skeptical, Janelle approached Balthus slowly. He handed her another blanket. "Wrap this around you first – it will help with your modesty." He winked.

While she did, Balthus reached into the pot, pulled out the soggy blanket and wrung out a little of the water. "Sit on this hot blanket," he said. "Try to get some of it up between your thighs."

She found it difficult to get the wet blanket in place and still hold up the modesty blanket.

"Need help?" asked Balthus with a gigantic leer.

"That's all right, I'll manage," said Janelle. She got it all arranged and sat gingerly on the hot towel. It was only moments before an "Ah" popped out of her mouth and a smile lit her face.

"Told you you'd love it," said Adrianna.

"What is this stuff I'm sitting in?" asked Janelle.

"It's a liniment called 'Granny's Helper,'" said Balthus. "The stuff works miracles."

"Will it help me ride better?" she asked with a sigh.

Balthus paused for a moment. "Yes, it will. It will allow you to get back on the beast, and that's the only way anyone gets better."

He turned to the men. "All right Lads, how about a little weapons training while we're waiting for supper?" He was greeted with groans, but both men rose and followed Balthus to an open area.

Adrianna turned the birds and placed a pot of chail in the fire. "How are you doing?" she asked Janelle.

"Wonderfully – now. Granny's Helper seems to have numbed my butt totally. That's just what I needed."

"When you need it reheated let me know. After your soak, there is a pool of sorts back behind the trees. It's the second half of the treatment."

"You two are taking great care of us. For what it's worth, I'll be sure to mention it to the Dieya." She thought a moment. "Speaking of the Dieya, do you happen to know his name?"

Adrianna shook her head. So, the term "Dieya" was a title. She looked back at Janelle who sat with a slight smile and a faraway look. Adrianna could see Janelle's attraction. The Sorcerer was a charismatic person. Perhaps she could use that somehow. She would give it some thought.

"Good," said Balthus as Bo blocked his attack. Balthus lowered his sword and glanced at the setting sun. "You've both done well. Now it's time to clean up and eat."

They strolled back toward the campsite and Balthus studied his charges. The strain of the day showed on both men's faces. They might be in top condition, but forcing muscles to do what they weren't accustomed to had worn them down. "You boys go ease your tired bodies with a little bath," said Balthus. He eyed the cooking birds. "You'll have enough time before supper."

The men went off to the pool and Balthus approached the fire. Janelle had already taken her bath and was drying her hair by the flames.

"Granny's Helper is a miracle," said Janelle. "I don't dread getting on that luse tomorrow half as much as I did. I would love to know the ingredients."

"Ha! So would many people," said Balthus. "The family that prepares it guards that secret closely. There was a story told that one of their workers quit them to start up his own bottling works, having stolen the secret. He was found one morning floating face down in the river." Balthus grimaced. "Being a merchant is a dangerous business."

"Really?" asked Janelle.

"Yes. It would kill me!" Balthus laughed heartily at his own humor.

Rory and Bo returned shortly looking a bit more refreshed.

"Good timing men, all is ready." Adrianna scraped away the coals with a stick and Balthus pulled the oven from the fire. He removed the lid and the sweet smell of warm bread filled the air. "Ah," said Balthus. He blew on his fingers then squeezed the bread. "Perfect!"

He handed each person a spitted bird and a hunk of bread and all fell to with vigor. Balthus took a pull from a wineskin, then passed it around.

Balthus talked all through dinner, telling stories and musing on life in general. He judged the sleepy, contented countenance on the faces of the trio and steered the conversation to warfare.

"...yes, coming face to face with a man who knows how to use an axe well, or a very fast man with a rapier, now that can inspire your sphincter to tighten," he said. He rubbed his eye with his pinky, the "watch carefully" signal. "The instant you realize your foe is better than you, and will probably kill you, can be a frightening moment."

"Have you ever faced such an opponent?" asked Bo.

Balthus glanced at Adrianna, she held her hand in the "ready" position. "Aye, that I have Lad," he said, nodding. "'Twas just last month – when I faced the Krill."

The trio jerked upright from their slouched positions, surprise filled their faces, and their questions spilled out in a rush.

"You faced a Kraken Krill and beat him?" asked Bo, his voice laced with astonishment.

"Not possible with these ancient weapons!" blurted Rory.

"The Dieya mentioned Kraken interference – a Krill was on this planet?" asked Janelle.

Balthus held up his hands. "Nay, I didn't kill it! Adrianna distracted it, and I ran like hell. Dieya killed it. Burned it to an ash, I'm glad to say."

Balthus rose, stretching and groaning before they could ask any more questions. "Come Adrianna, I'm sure the stink from these lads has left the pool. Let us bathe. You can scrub my back and I will scrub yours," he said with a wink. He reached out for Adrianna's hand and they walked away.

"Damn!" said Rory when Balthus and Adrianna were out of sight.

"Was that an accident, or were we just sandbagged?" asked Bo.

"I don't think it matters," said Janelle. "Obviously they know more than they're letting on. Neither one of them so much as blinked at our outburst." She shrugged. "Perhaps the Dieya has taken them into his confidence. It's possible they know the whole story but don't want us to know that they know. I'm not sure how tight non-disclosure commands are. Perhaps the Dieya can take people into his trust – he does have total planetary control."

"You know," said Rory, as he gazed into the fire, "once, when I was stationed on Malthenia Prime, I got into a card game with a professional jeta player. I didn't know he was a professional at the time, of course. Anyway, it all came down to the last hand. I showed my three stars, and reached for the pot when he plunked down his full squadron. I remember having the feeling that I had been maneuvered into that position from the start of the game." He looked toward the pool. "I have that same feeling now."

Balthus rubbed Adrianna's back with soap as she sat in front of him. The water was getting colder as night fell, but was still refreshing after the day's ride.

"Masterfully done, Balthus. Masterfully done," she said.

"Aye, soaping a lovely lady's back is one of my many skills."

She splashed water at him and turned. "You know what I mean. Waiting until they were all tired and full, with your voice droning at them all through supper. Then wham! They never knew what hit them."

"Droning?"

"We have learned much tonight," she said.

Balthus nodded. "Yes, but I think I learned more than I bargained for. I don't know – the things they said tonight make me shiver. It's hard to get my mind around it."

"Me too," she agreed. "Janelle said 'this planet.' That indicates that there are other inhabited worlds. That fact alone is stunning, but it fits in with what I have felt from the beginning – these folks just aren't from around here." She looked at the sky. "And their home could be very far away, indeed."

"It makes all those old legends about Travelers from other worlds seem possible," he replied.

"Yes. Legends usually do have some kernel of truth to them."

"Aye," said Balthus. His neck craned skyward, as if searching for an enemy. "Thinking there might be others on one of those points of light up there makes me feel insecure, like they have the high ground."

"Rory said 'ancient weapons,' meaning they have something much better," said Adrianna. "I wonder if Dieya's magic staff is only a weapon that has a burning beam."

Balthus sighed, then closed his eyes. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

Both became silent, trying to get a handle on their new concept of the world, a world that had suddenly taken a gigantic leap to include the stars.

Balthus inhaled deeply and hugged Adrianna. "Well, at least we now have a name for our enemy," he said, once more looking up at the stars. "The Kraken."

CHAPTER 47

The Arvari hunter followed the blood trail as quickly as he could. It had been a long chase through the thick wood. The muntjac should have gone down with his first arrow, but it had turned at the last instant and the shaft only pierced its shoulder. Erondil silently cursed his luck. The woodland spirits must be angry with him for causing the stag so much pain. He prayed he could end this soon.

Coming to the edge of a large meadow, he spied the wounded animal on the other side. The muntjac glanced back in his direction and Erondil saw that it wasn't tiring. If it got into the woods the chase could go on for many more hours. He stood rock still, hoping the beast hadn't seen him, and gauged the distance. It was a long bow shot, but he would attempt it and hope to get lucky. He slowly reached for an arrow and the muntjac raised its head.

A black blur leaped from the woods, grabbed the animal by the antlers and twisted, wrestling it to the ground. The muntjac's head was yanked again and an audible crack sounded across the meadow. Its hindquarters kicked twice, then stilled.

It happened so quickly it took Erondil a moment to realize that the figure was a man, all dressed in black with his cape's hood over his head. The stranger held the muntjac by its antlers a moment longer, then lowered it to the ground. Throwing back his hood, the man stood with arms out, palms open toward Erondil. He glanced at the arrow wound in the beast and then to the Arvari.

"Come!" the stranger yelled in perfect Arvarian. "Make your apology to the muntjac for your bad shot before the spirits grow any angrier." Stunned by the chase's sudden end, and more so by a human using the Arvari tongue, Erondil raced across the meadow with the swift, graceful strides so distinctive of the woodland people. As he approached the stranger, he held out his hand, palm out, his three elongated fingers held wide apart.

"Thank you, stranger," said Erondil, "for ending the beast's suffering where I could not."

The man bowed his head. They watched each other for a moment, each taking the other's measure. Erondil had only seen humans from a distance and wondered if they were all like this stranger. He was torn between asking what the man wanted and making his oblations to the muntjac's spirit.

Glancing down at the animal, he knew he was beholden to the stranger. Erondil dropped his bow, drew his knife and knelt by the muntjac. He removed the beast's heart and offered it up to the spirits. In the old Arvarian tongue, he recited the prayer that told of his people's need for food, and thanked the spirit of the muntjac for its sacrifice. He finished by biting off a piece of the heart and placing the rest in the animal's mouth.

The ritual completed, he turned to the stranger. "It was your kill. Do you wish to claim the meat?"

"I wish to share this sacrifice with 'the first men' and to talk to the council. I will help you carry the carcass to your hearth."

Erondil hesitated. Normally, he would lead the stranger to the tribe's hearth, but these were dark times. The stranger noticed his hesitation.

"I mean the Arvari no harm. I wish to speak to the elders and cannot enter your hearth uninvited. You are a long way from your sacred groves. I do not ask to be taken there, only to your hunter's hearth."

At the mention of the sacred groves, pain filled Erondil's heart. "The sacred groves – " He choked, unable to say more. Erondil stared at the stranger and nodded. "You have my leave to enter our hearth. May you come in peace and leave enlightened. The blessings of the spirit will be upon our sharing."

Traditional invitation given, the Arvari stood and extended both hands to the stranger, who clasped his, hands to wrist.

"My name is Erondil. My father is Erondal, son of Erondar, of the clan Eron," said the Arvari, formally.

"I am called Dieya."

Erondil stopped shaking Dieya's wrists but didn't release them. "Are you the 'Laere-Tere' the Arvari speak of? The one who was not born of woman?"

"The woodland folk have known me by that title, yes," said Dieya.

"Ah!" said Erondil. "Then this will be a homecoming." He gripped Dieya's wrists harder before releasing them. "We have little enough to celebrate, and this will help raise the tribe's spirits."

"The path traveled by 'the first men' has darkened?" asked Dieya.

"That is not to be spoken of here. We will talk of our fates over the light of fire, and with the guidance of the elder, so no spirits will take offense," said Erondil. "Come, let us take the muntjac to the hearth. After we eat, there will be plenty of time to talk."

Dieya cut a carrying pole while Erondil dressed the kill. They slid the pole between the muntjac's tied legs and raised it to their shoulders.

Erondil led as they walked silently through the woods to the Arvari camp.

Their arrival was unheralded. They passed several sentries, who nodded greetings to Erondil, but ignored Dieya. By custom, the Arvari would not acknowledge his coming until first greeted by the eldest member.

Dieya always liked visiting with the woodland folk. The Arvari, or "first men" in their language, were a willowy race whose every movement was an economy of grace and strength. He had never encountered a more handsome group of beings. Spending time with the Arvari was like a vacation. Their ability to live in the moment was cathartic for someone with a Dieya's responsibilities.

Arriving at the center of camp, the Arvari loosely gathered around him. Dieya saw despair and turmoil in their usually stoic faces – and most of those in the camp were women and children. A gray-bearded Arvari limped to Erondil and held up his hand.

"Hail, Erondil. Your food is welcome as is your guest." Squinting, he examined Dieya's face. "Hail, guest. Forgive me if my old eyes fail me, but you resemble a man I knew once, long ago.

"Hail, Caranthir. Your eyes have not failed you," said Dieya.

"Dieya!" said Caranthir, gripping Dieya's arms. He studied the sorcerer's face more closely. "You are indeed a wizard not to have aged since the last time we met."

"It is a trick of time, nothing more, old friend. It is good to be with the Arvari again."

"You do not herald evil times, Dieya, but you certainly follow them." He turned to the gathering crowd and held up his hands to finish the Arvari rite of greeting.

"This is a guest, returning to the hearth. Let all regard him as Arvari!"

"Welcome, Arvari!" chorused the crowd. The group broke up to continue chores, but a few of the older Arvari came to shake hands with Dieya. While the women took the muntjac for preparation, Caranthir gripped Dieya's arm for support and steered him toward his shelter.

"Your leg troubles you," said Dieya as they sat in a lean-to made of crisscrossed pina branches. The floor was covered with an exquisitely detailed rug made from the inner fibers of kolanda trees.

"Yes, a wound taken a month ago has not healed. We have been moving much, and I haven't given it time to mend as I should."

"If I may?" asked Dieya.

Caranthir looked pleased. "If you have some wizardry to help, it would be greatly appreciated. There is much to do and this bad leg hinders my work with the tribe."

Caranthir unwrapped his bandage and showed a severely burned lower right leg. "Our herbs help some, but this needs more than we have been able to give it." He stared at his burn. "I have fears of losing the leg."

Dieya examined the injury then opened a pouch and removed a small metal cylinder. "This will cause the wound to heal quickly." He touched the top of the cylinder and it emitted a fine mist. He sprayed the entire wound then put the cylinder away. Removing a small silver box from his pouch, he held it in the palm of his hand. He touched the amulet on his forearm and a blue-green light shone from the box. Dieya slowly moved the silver box over the burned area.

"Ahh," said Caranthir. "The pain has lessened greatly."

The light ceased and Dieya returned the silver box into his pouch. "In a few days it should be healed. But how did you receive such a wound? I know the Arvari to be most careful of fire."

"Yes, fire is our bane. A burning tree fell on my leg while I fought the great fire." His face became a mask of great sadness as he looked up at Dieya. "All is gone. The council center, the chief's hearth and the sacred grove."

Dieya stared at Caranthir. "Gone? All?" The news shook him. "How?"

"When the first winds of summer began blowing out of the east, the grasslands were intentionally fired all along the edges of our forest. In one night, a stretch of woods from the Gade River to Akland Point was set ablaze. When we had controlled the fire in one section and moved off to fight another, the blaze was re-ignited. Warriors were sent to guard the extinguished areas, but they were attacked and killed. None returned." Caranthir shook his head. "The Arvari were never a numerous race and we just didn't have enough men to put out the fires and fight the tree-burners. We had to flee." He hung his head. "The sacred grove is ash."

Dieya placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Who set the blaze? And why?"

A spark of anger flamed in the depths of the old Arvari's eyes. "We never saw them!" He clenched a fist. "We found prints made by the grasslander's ehtas. But we have always been at peace with the nomads, so we cannot be sure it was them."

Caranthir's anger ceased and his shoulders sagged. "The fires have died, as have most of our warriors. We never faced fire of this magnitude. Many men were lost fighting the blaze. There are only three other camps such as this, scattered among the western lowland forests. Much game died in the fire and our people lack food. The forest that once gave all, now gives hardship."

Dieya sat back and considered this information. Arvari meant "first men" in their language and it was true. The DNA and magnetitron wave samples he had gathered proved the Arvari originally evolved on this planet. Humans came later, probably in the Gless "seeding."

It was inconceivable that the Arvari, a people filled with grace and nobility should die out. He knew he must help.

"Caranthir, would you accept help from a friend of the woodland folk?"

The old Arvari smiled. "We are no longer proud, Dieya, as we once were. Perhaps all this is because we needed to be humbled, and learn again to live with the forest..." He looked at the ground. "Instead of feeling we were its lords." He sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, we will accept help, and be very grateful."

Dieya contemplated the problem for a moment, sorting through the difficulties and their solutions. "Where the human's brick road turns west, there is a small village called Westerly. North of there about three miles is a hillock of honey trees –"

"Yes, we know this place," nodded Caranthir.

"In two weeks time, there will be many wagons filled with supplies for the Arvari at that hillock. There will be enough food and clothing to last through the winter and tools to aid in building new homes. Gather your men to receive these supplies and distribute them to 'the first men.'" Dieya placed a hand on Caranthir's shoulder. "The forest renews. The sacred groves are gone, but they will grow again. Your homes have not been destroyed, they have just moved for a time. The Arvari will continue on Ravar and grow. This, I swear."

The old man's eyes filled with tears as he extended his hands. "The tribe will not forget. Ever!" The old man gripped Dieya's hands hard. "Come!" he said with exuberance. "We must eat and tell the tribe of our good fortune and praise our benefactor."

"No, Caranthir. Praise is not necessary. It is not only my duty, but my pleasure. I do have one favor to ask of you," he said as he fumbled in his pouch.

The old man just smiled. "It is not a favor, but our duty. How can we help?"

Dieya removed the small brooch from his pouch and showed it to Caranthir. The old man took it, tilted it toward the light and read the inscription. "Isundir? Isundir was one of the warriors killed guarding the extinguished sections of the fire. We found his body but not his talisman. Where did you get this?" he asked.

"From the dead hand of a valiant human warrior who had ripped it from his assailant at Eastedge Stronghold, two hundred miles south, on the edge of the grassland."

Caranthir straightened and his face became hard. "Then I must go to Eastedge Keep to inquire how it got there."

"No," said Dieya, sadness seeping through his voice. "Eastedge Stronghold is no longer. It has been destroyed."

Caranthir slumped and slowly shook his head. "These are evil times, surely." He eyed the brooch. "I should give this to Vorianda – she was Isundir's mate." He asked for permission with his eyes.

Dieya handed it to Caranthir. "It should be with the family." He stood to leave. "I must go."

"Laere-Tere, would you not stay and eat with us?" asked Caranthir, also rising.

"No, my friend, I cannot. There is much to be arranged. But you said there were footprints found near the missing warriors. Were there any other signs?"

The old man held up a finger, leaned down and picked up a rolled leather hide. "Just this," he said. He unrolled the hide and an arrow dropped into his hand – an arrow that was bright red from notch to point.

CHAPTER 48

For Balthus and Adrianna, the next week on the trail was encouraging. The trio's riding improved and only Janelle had fallen off. She hadn't been hurt badly, but it did seem to bruise her pride. That was one thing Balthus liked about these folks, wherever they were from. They were proud, resolute and competitive. They would never learn in a few days what a lifetime of riding could teach, but they began making more miles every day. The weather cooperated by being sunny, yet not too hot.

At mid-morning Balthus rode abreast of Adrianna at the rear of the column while Bo rode point.

Adrianna glanced over at Balthus. "These folks seem to be a lot more close-mouthed than several days ago," she said.

"True, but that just means we have to be more devious in prying information out of them. The question is – do we want to know more?"

"Yes," she said. "Knowledge is always good, even if you don't like what it reveals. But I don't think tiring them out and filling them with hot food will work any longer."

"Probably not," Balthus said with a nod. "Next time I will try strong drink. That usually loosens a man's tongue."

Adrianna smiled. "It does in your case."

"Naah, it just makes me realize people wish to hear more of my golden tones. But – " Balthus glanced ahead and rose in his saddle.

"It's Bo, and he's coming back like his trousers are on fire!" Balthus spurred his luse to meet him.

Adrianna rode to Janelle and handed her the pack animal's reins.

"Balthus!" yelled Bo as he galloped back. He reined up and pointed behind him. "A carriage! A carriage is under attack, about a quarter of a mile away, where the trail meets a road. They –"

"Calm down, boy. How many men are attacking, what are their weapons, are they lused or on foot?"

Bo stopped and closed his eyes. "Six men on luses. Some men lying on the ground. Everyone was using swords. The carriage folk were fending them off from inside and on top of the carriage."

"Did they see you?" Balthus asked.

"No, I'm sure they didn't."

Adrianna rode up and Balthus turned. "Carriage attack, luseback, swords, six men, one quarter mile," said Balthus. He loosened his sword in its scabbard. "For the attack to be against a carriage, it must be at the junction of this trail and the Kings Road. That heavily wooded area is a good place for an ambush."

"And a good place to counter-attack," said Adrianna.

Balthus grinned and turned to Janelle. "Ride with us but don't try to keep up. If you arrive and the fighting is still going on, stay well back." He looked at Rory and Bo, excitement blooming on his face. "Well men, let's see if you've learned anything from our practice. Let's ride!" He spurred his luse to a gallop, followed closely by Adrianna.

As they neared the junction, Balthus and Adrianna drew their weapons. Rory and Bo followed suit. Bursting onto the road, Balthus charged. A richly-appointed carriage sat in the road. A liveried guard stood on top wielding a halberd. A blood-covered driver sat slumped in his seat. Someone inside the coach lashed out the window with a sword. It was only a matter of time before the carriage fell to the five remaining attackers, one of whom was on foot.

Two bodies lay on the ground, one attacker and one liveried guard. The attackers wore a motley collection of armor and weapons. Balthus knew immediately whose side he was on, and spurred his luse to a charge.

Balthus smashed like a thunderbolt into the milling lusemen. The nearest one barely had time to turn his head before Balthus brought down his sword on the man's neck. The second man brought his sword up but Balthus ran him through.

Adrianna engaged the third. The bandit blocked her first slash, but with a quick flurry of blows, Adrianna ran the point of her sword into his throat.

Bo rode to the fourth man and exchanged a few blows, but could not handle his luse and his sword at the same time. Bo tried to back off and his opponent drove in. With a loud yell, Rory galloped in and buried his battleaxe into the man's spine.

All the mounted bandits were down. The one on foot began running down the road. Balthus rode abreast of Rory and Bo.

"Should we let him go?" asked Bo.

"Rory, your axe please," said Balthus. Rory handed it over and with a quick flash, the axe flew down the road, imbedding itself into the fleeing bandit's back. The hard blow knocked him off his feet and sent him skidding, face down, onto the highway.

Balthus grinned. "Thanks. You can have your axe back now."

Balthus cleaned his sword on a bandit's bedroll and sheathed it. Riding closer to the carriage, he looked up at the guard who was still standing on top, breathing hard. Adrianna rode to Balthus' side.

"Good morning to you, friend," Balthus said to the guard. "Sorry about the vermin hereabouts, but that happens now and again. Rotten day you're having, isn't it?" The guard was still in fight mode and Balthus knew better than to get too close. "You did a fine job of defense. Smart of you to stay up there."

Fear slowly drained from the guard's face. He lowered his halberd, then looked at the coach driver.

"George!" he cried. Dropping his weapon, he scrambled to the driver's side.

Balthus could see that the driver was dead and turned to the coach door. "Hello the coach!"

A sword pushed aside a curtain and a young face peered out.

"It's all right, Lad," said Balthus. "It's over. The highwaymen have been given their just rewards."

The coach door opened. A boy, about sixteen years of age, dressed in expensive tunic and boots, stepped out, still brandishing his sword. He, too, was still in shock, his face paler than his fair skin and blond hair could attest.

"Put up your sword, Sir," said Adrianna. "You are among friends."

The young man slowly lowered his sword until the point touched the ground then glanced at the almost headless man Balthus had taken down first. Putting a hand on the carriage door he leaned over and wretched.

Adrianna was off her luse in a second and had her arm around the boy.

A duplicate of the young man's face appeared at the doorway, except this one was female. "Gerin! Are you all right?" she asked.

Balthus dismounted and held a hand out to the young lady. "Yes lass, he's all right. He's just got his blood up. It takes some getting used to."

The young lady took Balthus' hand as she stepped down from the carriage. Adrianna had Gerin sitting by the rear wheel and was holding a wineskin to his lips.

The young lady looked at the dead bandits. "Did you slay them all?"

"Yes Missy, you've nothing to fear," said Balthus.

"Good!" she said, her lips curling into a snarl. "They deserved no less." She looked Balthus up and down, then placed her hands on her hips. "I am the Lady Gerilia of Jedaria. That is my brother Gerin," she said, pointing to the still-seated young man. "Now that the bandits have been taken care of, you will escort us to Freetown. My father is Councilman Thoril Jedar of Freetown, a very important man. I'm sure you've heard of him. A reward will be forthcoming, I'm sure. Let us be off."

Balthus didn't move but stroked his beard. "Jedar, Jedar..." he said, pondering. Turning to Bo, he said, "Isn't he the merchant who sells that sour wine?"

Bo smiled.

The young woman stamped her foot. "My father's vineyards produce the best wine on Ravar! And none of it is sour!" She turned to the guard still sitting in the driver's seat holding the driver. "Troshy! Let's get moving!"

Troshy looked up, tears running down his face.

"He's dead, Ma'am. Georgie's dead," he said and held the body tighter.

Balthus climbed to the driver's seat, put two fingers on George's neck, and confirmed Troshy's statement. He placed a hand on Troshy's shoulder. "Aye man, he's gone," Balthus said, and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"But he was always so good, and always so lucky!" said Troshy. His face said he couldn't comprehend his friend's death.

"I'm sure he was, Lad, but sometimes being good and lucky is still not enough," said Balthus softly. "Come, there's a little glen off the path that I'm sure George would like to be his resting place. Come. I'll help."

Troshy wiped his eyes with his sleeve and nodded.

"Get a bedroll from one of the bandit's luses," Balthus called down to Bo. "Rory, grab poor Georgie's feet here and we'll lower him."

Balthus, Troshy and Rory lifted George's body down to the ground and Bo spread a bedroll over him.

"Are you going to take time to bury him?" said Gerilia. Disbelief filled her voice.

"Aye lass, we surely will. Same as we would have done for you had we arrived later," said Balthus. "This man gave his life defending yours. It's not something done lightly." He frowned down at the girl. "Nor should it be taken lightly."

Gerin, having recovered somewhat, stepped in front of his sibling. "Sir, please forgive my sister. She is young and inexperienced in such matters."

"You're only three minutes older!" she said, scowling at what was obviously an old argument.

Gerin ignored her. "Allow me to know the names of our benefactors. We are most grateful," he said, bowing his head.

"I am Sir Balthus of Steradam. This is my consort, the Lady Adrianna, and our friends, Bo, Rory, and – " Balthus looked down the trail and saw Janelle arriving with the packluses, "– and the Lady Janelle."

"Thank you all, good Sirs and Madams. My sister is right about our father. He will be most generous when he hears of your exploits during our timely rescue."

"Fair enough, young Sir. Now if you will excuse us, we must clean up the King's Highway," said Balthus. He turned to Bo and Rory. "Pull this trash off the road. But first gather up their weapons, purses, and jewelry."

Bo made a disgusted face.

"Problem, Bo? I never thought you'd be squeamish."

"No, it just smacks of stealing from the dead, that's all."

Balthus laughed. "It won't be stealing. Anything of value you find will have been pilfered by those bastards." Balthus placed a hand on Bo's shoulder. "We may find a ring or locket from another band of travelers who weren't lucky enough to have us happen along. It might go a long way to ease the minds of folks who would otherwise never know the fate of their loved ones."

Bo nodded. "Of course, Balthus. I didn't think of it that way. I'd be glad to do it."

"And I'm glad to see that somewhere in the universe these things never have to be thought of," Balthus said, unable to resist the dig.

Bo just smiled, shook his head and began searching the bodies.

With shovels from the carriage boot, Balthus and Troshy dug graves in a small, grassy meadow for George and the other guard killed in the attack. Troshy gave Balthus a blow by blow of the skirmish while they dug.

"This trip was supposed to be a quick way to earn a silver. George said this job would be easy. George usually drove wagons, and I did odd jobs. He talked me into going along as one of the guards. I didn't even see George get stabbed! Him and me grew up together." He stopped and stared at Balthus. "What am I gonna tell Lucinda?" He thrust his shovel fiercely into the ground and shook his head. "This shouldn't have happened."

Rory came to help with the digging and they finished quickly. Adrianna, Janelle and the young lad Gerin joined them as they finished filling the graves.

"Sir?" said Troshy to Balthus. "Could you say a few words over George? I'm sure Lucinda would be glad to hear we did."

Balthus nodded. "I would be honored."

Balthus tore two small sprigs from a nearby evergreen tree and the group gathered around the gravesites. Balthus crossed his wrists and bowed his head. "Great Maker, please accept George into your house with open arms. By all accounts, he was a good man. He did his best to the very end. No more could be asked of anyone." He placed the sprig on the mound and moved to the other grave. "What was this one's name?" he asked Troshy.

"I'm not sure, I think it was Jake. We only just met and he never said much."

Balthus turned to Gerin, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. Gerin shrugged and stared at the ground.

Balthus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Great Maker, please accept this poor soul into your house. He gave his life trying to save others. There isn't a more noble way to earn admittance." He placed the sprig on the mound and shook his head. "An unnamed man in an unmarked grave. Never has there been a truer saying than, 'There go I, but for luck.'" Balthus inhaled deeply then herded everyone back to the carriage.

Gerilia leaned out of the carriage window. "Can we be off now?"

Balthus looked skyward. "No. Slaying bandits makes me hungry. It's time for dinner, Missy."

"Don't call me Missy! My name is Lady Gerilia and you will address me so!"

Balthus took a step toward her. "It takes more than fine clothes to make a lady – Missy." He turned to Gerin. "Is she always this way?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to admit. After our mother died, Father spoiled her shamelessly. The more I see of it, the more I think he has done her a great disservice."

"Very perceptive of you, young man," said Balthus.

"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here!" wailed Gerilia. She leaned back inside the carriage and jerked down the shade.

Balthus shook his head and placed a hand on Gerin's shoulder. "Come, share our meager dinner." Balthus was taken by the boy's courage and apparent depth of character. They walked to where Adrianna and Janelle were unloading packs and Rory was building a fire.

"How is it you are traveling this way?" asked Balthus. "Going home in time for the Spring Fair?"

"Yes," said Gerin. "My sister spent the season down in Colonade at our aunt's. I have been at the Academy all winter, as I have for the last four winters."

"Ah, a scholar, eh?" said Balthus. "You'll do your father proud, with your book skills plus the way you handled yourself during the attack."

Gerin's ears reddened. "I'd like to think so, but to tell you the truth, I have never been so frightened in my life. I guess I don't have it in me to be a warrior."

Balthus laughed. "You think warriors are never frightened?" he asked. "Let me tell you what courage is, son. Courage is being terrified out of your wits, but doing what you know to be right anyway. You showed plenty of courage during the attack. The fear that fills your guts just lessens each time you draw your sword because you know you've always gotten through it before."

"What happens if you don't get through it?" Gerin asked.

Balthus laughed again. "Then it's all over so quickly you don't have a chance to be afraid."

"Gerin," said Adrianna. "Come over here and stay away from Balthus. He'll corrupt you with his tall tales. Balthus, leave the lad alone. It has been a hard morning for him."

"Yes, Mother," grinned Balthus.

They gathered around the fire and Adrianna passed out travel bread and cheese. She poured a cup of hot chail and handed it to Gerin. "Why did you choose to travel with so few guards? You must have been told how dangerous the roads are lately."

Gerin looked sheepish. "Yes, we were supposed to wait for father's guards and carriage, but Gerilia wanted to get to the Fair quickly. She hired the coach and the men over my protests."

Balthus glanced at the carriage. Troshy was serving Gerilia dinner in her coach with supplies from the carriage boot. "What is so important in Freetown that you had to return without the proper retinue?"

Gerin blushed and shook his head. "I'm loath to tell you, Sir Balthus. It would make us appear more foolish than we already have."

"I don't think that's possible," exclaimed Balthus. "So you might as well."

Gerin opened his mouth to speak, then realized what Balthus had said. This led to a new round of blushing. "Gerilia wants to participate in Freetown's Beauty Pageant," he said ruefully. "If we had waited for father's carriage, she would have missed the opening ceremonies."

Balthus stared at him.

"I know, I know," Gerin said, running a hand through his hair. "But you can't imagine how persistent she can be!" His tone was frantic.

Balthus stared into his mug of chail. "So – you are like your father after all." He sipped his chail, then looked at the boy. "I hope you realize now that bowing to her is not only a disservice to her, but is very dangerous to others."

Gerin stared back. "Yes, Sir. I can see that – now."

Balthus grinned. He felt a connection with the boy. The lad had the potential to be a fine man someday.

Bo joined them and dropped a small bundle at Balthus' feet. Stooping, Bo poured himself a mug of chail. "Not much of a haul," he said and grabbed a hunk of bread. "Not an abundance of coin, but there are some personal effects."

Balthus opened the bundle and sorted through the items. He picked up a gold ring set with a tiny ruby. "A child's ring," he muttered. His massive fist tightened around the ring and storm clouds of anger filled his face. "I'm glad we sent those bastards to hell!" he growled. "All such curs should suffer the same fate." He dropped the ring into the bundle and the anger left his face like a cloud moving away from the sun.

"And you two!" he roared, pointing to Bo and Rory. "You were splendid!" He grinned, as did Bo and Rory. "You didn't hesitate when it mattered, and you did your best."

"I wasn't too sure about that during the fight," said Bo. "But thanks to Rory here," he patted Rory's back, "I'm alive to talk about it."

"Aye," said Balthus. "Once you're in a fight, it's too late to wonder if it was a good idea." He looked at Rory. "A fine blow, well struck. It certainly satisfies the heart to send a band of scum like that to hell. Bo, I'm sorry my instructions didn't include more attack work from luseback. We will correct that deficiency."

"I have a lot to learn," said Bo, shaking his head. "Hell, I'm still having a hard time believing those men would callously kill everyone in the carriage for a few bits of metal."

Balthus shook his head. "I can never understand mankind either. I see a fine figure of a man like Gerin here," he said, placing a hand on a blushing Gerin's shoulder, "and I see vipers like the bunch we eliminated. Which are we? Evil Incarnate or the Maker's Tools?"

"Either, I think," said Janelle, "with the potential to be both or anything in between."

Balthus stared at her, and pondered her words. "So it's like that where you are from also?" he asked.

She returned his stare. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Where are you from, Lady Janelle?" asked Gerin innocently.

"South!" Balthus and Adrianna said it in unison and much too loudly.

Gerin jerked and became interested in his mug of chail.

"Well, Janelle," said Balthus. "You can ride in the carriage if you'd like. I'm sure neither of the occupants would mind."

"I am aware of your conversations with the 'Lady' Gerilia, Balthus. I think I will stick to my luse." She smiled. "He's a good listener and never talks back."

"Gerilia isn't that bad," said Gerin defensively. "She's just used to getting her way. She really has many fine qualities."

"I'm sure she does, Lad," said Balthus. "She's your sister after all, isn't she?"

Gerin nodded vigorously at his ally.

"But you are twins," continued Balthus, "and perhaps you got all the shine and she got all the sh– well it doesn't matter. If everyone is ready, we should be off."

Everyone chuckled except Gerin.

"Troshy!" yelled Balthus as they approached the carriage.

"Yes, Sir," he answered, doffing his hat.

"Do you think you can drive the coach?"

"Yes, Sir. George let me drive part of the way and I'm sure I can do it."

"Good, you climb up there and get to it. If you have any problems, just holler and we'll sort it out," said Balthus. He tied the bandit's luses and their pack animals to the rear of the coach. "You'll be a seasoned coach driver by the end of our trip."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Troshy's face lit with the possibility of a new career.

Balthus mounted and waited until everyone was ready. He signaled Adrianna that he would take point, and the party moved out.

CHAPTER 49

Drums and chanting sounded through the night air and campfires threw harsh silhouettes onto on an otherwise tranquil sea of moonlit grass.

Dieya crept closer to the Sevoal encampment through the tall grass, and activated his clothing to "camo" mode. Its reverse optics made him invisible for tonight's work.

His suit reminded him of Adrianna, who had wanted to be introduced to his tailor. Wouldn't she be surprised. He smiled, wondering how Balthus and Adrianna were doing with their charges. His smile widened when he thought of the war of wits that was undoubtedly waging between the "duo" and the "trio" as he thought of them. He wondered how much information the devious Balthus had tricked the trio into revealing.

Dieya had instantly liked Balthus and Adrianna, and he was someone who didn't make many close acquaintances. Even though he'd known them only a short while, they felt like old friends. Dieya's smile faded. When he next came to Ravar they would be old.

He would have to leave Ravar in ten months and return to Dieya Base for the enforced furlough. Dieya policy dictated a year on, six months off for a Class Six planet. His hand idly plucked at a long strand of grass.

The Alliance's Dieya Base traveled in a fixed pattern through the galaxy, just below the speed of light. When going on leave, Dieya felt like he was boarding a ghost ship – a ship cursed to travel the universe in a giant circle, picking up lost souls along the way. For every three months spent on the base, eight years passed on Ravar.

He tore the grass strand into small pieces. Relativity was very hard on friendships.

Intellectually, he agreed with the policy. The Alliance's covenant held that planets should have their own natural social evolution brought about by the original inhabitants. The furlough prevented a dieya's constant contact from subconsciously directing the planet's social development. During his absence, sentinel satellites stood watch.

A thunder of hooves snapped his attention back to the Sevoal camp. Several hundred more bow-waving, loincloth-clad warriors rode into camp on their ehtas. They wore the same splash of red ocher on their foreheads as did all the gathered warriors.

The initial Dieya surveys hadn't given the Sevoal much credence. A nomadic people, steeped deeply in religious custom, their technology hadn't risen higher than flint arrowheads. They lived primarily off the wartanga, a large four-legged, migratory herbivore with a brown striped pelt and an impressive single S-curved horn.

A Sevoal male never walked anywhere when he could ride and people joked that a grasslander and his ehta, a smaller, more powerful cousin of the luse, were really one creature. Their creed held that in the beginning, the god Ocaow so loved the Sevoal that he created the first ehtas in his image, and gave them to the Sevoal to help hunt the wartanga. With their curved bows made of wartanga horns, the Sevoal were incredible shots from the backs of their galloping ehtas.

So far, Dieya had only observed a dozen of the hundreds of tribes out on the plains, but had yet to find any evidence of the use of red arrows with steel arrowheads. He had noticed that about a third of the younger warriors and a few of the older ones painted their entire foreheads with red ocher. He would have passed this off as a fad or tribal mark except for the color and its appearance in more than one tribe.

As he had observed one such tribe, several dozen red-painted warriors gathered in the center of their camp. They talked for a few minutes, then began chanting a monotonous two-syllable "Wa – ta" sound. The chanting brought women and the unpainted warriors to observe the ceremony. Some of the older men looked on with obvious disapproval. After a few minutes, the red painted warriors ended their chant with a loud yell, mounted their ehtas, and rode south at a rapid pace.

Dieya had tracked them to this meeting place but it had been a rugged trek. To keep up with the hardy grassland ehtas on foot was difficult even with his physical augmentations. He followed their trail for two days to this gathering of two thousand red-painted warriors.

The assembly appeared to be waiting for something and Dieya worked his way closer to the center of the camp, using the shadows of the tents called "mutalehs" for cover. His greatest worry tonight wasn't being seen, but being smelled. The Sevoal's only domesticated creature was the grot, a small, four-horned mammal whose fermented milk was used to make the alcoholic drink "burkala." The yapping grots had a good sense of smell and were always a part of any grassland tribe.

Dozens of women cooking scores of wartangas on spits held most of the grots' attention and Dieya wormed his way closer to a small five-foot tall platform erected in the middle of the camp.

The drums and chanting came to a sudden halt and Dieya froze. A Sevoal warrior emerged from the center-most mutaleh and climbed the steps of the platform. Cheers and howls from the gathered throng greeted his arrival. He stood smiling, arms crossed, letting the cheers wash over him.

This was an impressive warrior, self-confident and charismatic. Taller than most grasslanders, who tended to be of small stature, he wore only a loincloth that displayed his remarkable physique. A splash of red marked his chin as well as his forehead and like the others, his jet-black, wartanga-greased hair was slicked back to an ehtatail.

The warrior raised his arms above his head and the crowd quieted. "Hail Disciples of Ocaow!" he said, and lowered his arms. The crowd went wild again.

So that's what this is all about! Another Ocaow cult had risen from the grassland people. Dieya relaxed. Religious cults had risen from time to time throughout Ravar for centuries and were considered by the Alliance as a necessary social evil that would ultimately lead toward planetary enlightenment. He stepped further back into the shadows, feeling it unnecessary to catch every word.

The speaker raised his arms again and silence fell. "Ocaow has been good to us!"

More cheers followed.

"Ta'Lon, Ocaow's visible hand, has been true to his word. He has given us the rays of the sun that prove Ocaow's superiority. On the second full moon, we will meet at the Horn River and once again we will loose the rays of the sun and taste victory!"

While the crowd cheered, a now very attentive Dieya moved closer to the platform.

"Ta'Lon, wishes you to know that Ocaow is very pleased and he sends you this gift." He motioned backward with his arm and the crowd parted to let four ehta-pulled wagons roll to the platform.

An older warrior in the crowd yelled, "Sistek! You do us dishonor by having ehtas pull that contraption! Ocaow will not be pleased!"

Sistek glowered for an instant, then once again resumed his consummate politician's smile. "You have your ehtas pull your mutaleh when on the move, don't you?"

The older warrior nodded.

"Then I say it is you who dishonor your ehtas. To pull a wagon is much easier for the ehtas than pulling the mutaleh skids. Why do you mistreat your ehtas? That brings dishonor!"

The crowd grunted agreement, more against someone who would mistreat their ehtas than the standard use of mutaleh skids. The older warrior tried to counter.

"This was not done before. It cannot be right!"

Some in the assembly muttered agreement.

Sistek scanned the crowd. "Ta'Lon, Ocaow's visible hand on earth, has learned of this device from the mouth of Ocaow himself. It is another gift from the gods, as are the rays of the sun. Ehtas themselves are a gift of the gods, yet there are old tales told of those who spurned riding because it was not done before."

Muttering agreement arose from the crowd.

"Would you spurn your ehtas and walk like a woman?" he shouted.

The crowd's muttering became a growl.

"No!" shouted the older warrior, his voice quavering with fear. "I did not think! Ta'Lon is Ocaow's hand and mouth. We should heed his words!"

"Hear him indeed, brothers. Ta'Lon will surely bring us many victories." Sistek leaped to the nearest wagon, reached down, held up a wartanga skin bag and held it over his head. "As a token of his faith in you, Ta'Lon sends you this gift." He opened the bag and poured a stream of burkala down his throat, spilling most onto his chest. The crowd cheered and the chanting and drums started up again.

Sistek tossed the bag into the crowd and gestured for others to help him unload the rest. There were many willing hands and the wagons were soon empty. The crowd moved to the wartanga spits, drinking burkala and praising Ta'Lon. With his arms crossed, Sistek stood and watched, a smug smile on his face.

Dieya threaded his way to the outskirts of the encampment. Sevoal wagons? It could be possible. Maybe this Ta'Lon was a grasslander genius with a gift for the dramatic. Technological advances did occur in nomadic cultures, but there were just too many coincidences.

He needed to get a closer look at those wagons to see how they were constructed. He sat down on the grass and waited.

His patience was legendary, even within the Dieya Corps. He had found that watching the years of time spin out from under the people he guarded, while he changed little, gave him the long view.

It was well past midnight when Dieya stood. Most of the warriors were drunk and rowdy, or sound asleep. He made his way easily toward the wagons. Dieya saw that they weren't a first-generation attempt at wagon building. They were as sophisticated as any wagon on Ravar.

He avoided the open areas and made his way around the mutalehs to the side of the wagons then stopped in his tracks. His face hardened. Turning on his heel, he made his way from the camp to a little ravine where no one could see the blue flash from his dimgate. Two months until they gather at the Horn River. Where will they attack next? Frowning, he touched his amulet and vanished.

The signet on the side of the wagon had been that of Eastedge Stronghold.

CHAPTER 50

For Balthus, Adrianna, and their growing number of charges, the rest of the journey to Freetown was uneventful – with the exception of the ongoing duel between Gerilia and Balthus. Thankfully, Gerilia had chosen to remain silent since their last exchange a day earlier. Gerin watched these altercations closely and at one point Balthus overheard a quarrel between the siblings. Balthus smiled. Ah, the lad's learning to not give in to her.

They traveled longer hours now that they were on the King's Road, and spent the nights at roadside inns. At noon of the third day since the rescue, the band neared Freetown on a beautiful, warm, cloudless day.

On a hilltop overlooking the town, Troshy halted the coach to give the team a breather before starting down. The four riders pulled abreast of Balthus and gazed below. The settlement took up most of the valley and a haze of smoke lay atop the buildings.

"Freetown," announced Balthus with a wave of his arm.

"It's much bigger than I imagined," said Janelle.

"I'm surprised there are no protective walls," said Rory.

"There's no need for walls," said Balthus. "It's the people outside the town that need protecting. Freetown allows anyone in with no questions asked. Its name does not derive from everything being 'free' in Freetown. No, it's because anything freely goes. There's a small, merchant-funded town guard that patrols the streets at night. They prevent only the occasional murder or theft. If the trouble is something more than the guard can handle, they send for the Lancers." He patted his luse to stop it from sidestepping. "And no one wants the Lancers in town unless they are off duty. They tend to bash in everyone's head then sort it out later."

They continued at a slow walk toward the town and Balthus warmed to his history lesson. "Once, a band of thieves established a guild in the western quarter and tried to run the entire town. The Lancers surrounded the area and burned it to the ground, arresting or killing anyone who tried to leave."

"Sounds like a hard place," said Bo.

"Aye, hard it is, but because they have no taxes or duties, anything in the world can be purchased here, from wines to weapons to vice. It's a town where you will do well to keep one hand on your purse and the other on your dirk. It's a villainous hive of cutthroats and bastards." He let out a sigh. "My kind of town."

"I thought you'd fit right in," said Janelle.

"Aye, with the exception of the pair in the coach, I think we all fit in," he said. "Jedaria, where the twins' father has his vineyards, is about five miles west of here. We'll drop them off and be about our business in Freetown by dusk."

"What business do we have in Freetown?" asked Rory.

Balthus opened his mouth but Adrianna interrupted him. "The business of a hot bath, a soft bed and good food," she said.

"A hot bath sounds heavenly," said Janelle, closing her eyes.

"And mundane tasks such as re-supplying and getting new mounts," said Balthus, answering Rory's question.

"The Arms tonight, Balthus?" asked Adrianna.

"Of course, Sweetheart. You know how I love the Arms." He kicked his luse and they trotted down the hill.

They rode west of Freetown on a wide road used mainly by merchants moving goods from the coast. They passed a variety of wagons, carrying everything from fish to coal, including one small wagon guarded by eight hard looking mercenaries. Balthus gave each wagon a hearty "hello" and to the guards, a nod.

Gerin leaned out of the carriage and caught Balthus' attention. "Balthus, about a quarter of a mile up the road is a turnoff to the right. Our father's estate is a mile beyond that."

"Thanks, Gerin. We should have you home for supper."

"Balthus, will you stay the night with us? I'm sure father will be most pleased."

"Thanks Lad, but no. We must be getting on, and I know that Adrianna wants to have dinner at the Arms. But thank you for your offer."

With no need for scouting, Balthus rode in front with Adrianna and the trio, just ahead of the carriage. The road was wide and the hard-packed dirt made little dust.

The turnoff to the Jedar estate was hard to miss. On each side of a wide road rose two massive stone pillars about fifteen feet high, supporting a gilded sign that simply said "Jedaria." Balthus stared at the sign. "Money and class."

Adrianna nodded her agreement.

The approach to the main house was a half-mile long cobbled road through evenly spaced rows of grape arbors. A score of field hands pruned, watered and weeded the sprawling acreage.

Topping a small rise, a dozen large buildings of the Jedar estate sprawled before them. The red-tile roof and white-stucco main house was a two-story affair, big enough to contain at least twenty rooms. A ten-foot-high wall with small towers on the corners surrounded the complex. A gate of iron-bound, foot-thick wood stood open. Passing through the gate, Balthus noted a parapet running around the inside of the walls. "With a few dozen good men, this place could be very defensible," he said to Adrianna. "This Thoril Jedar has risen a notch in my estimation."

Halting at the front door, they were met by two seasoned guards wearing Jedar livery and carrying halberds. An elderly servant rushed from the front door as Balthus dismounted. The servant took in the group's clothing and his disdainful expression said they were in the wrong place.

"I'm sorry, but –" The carriage door opened and Gerin climbed down. "Master Gerin!" exclaimed the servant. His stony face broke into a big smile and he clasped his hands together. Gerin helped his sister down from the carriage.

"And Mistress Gerilia," said the servant, his smile growing wider.

"Hello Lund. How's Father?" asked Gerin.

"Fine, and he will be better when he hears you have arrived safely."

"Lund, these are my friends and succors, Sir Balthus, the Lady Adrianna, and their friends Rory, Bo, and Lady Janelle. Please seat them in the drawing room and see to their needs. Is father in the house or in the fields?" asked Gerin.

"Your father is in the library, Master Gerin," he said.

"I must see him immediately," said Gerilia, and stomped toward the front door.

"Immediately?" asked Gerin. "Looking like that? With travel dust all over your face?"

Gerilia looked stricken and touched her face. "Dust?"

"More like dirt," said Balthus.

"Oh dear!" She bolted into the house and ran up the stairs.

Gerin turned to Balthus as they entered. "I must talk to father before she does."

"You're learning, son." Balthus grinned and patted Gerin on the back.

"Balthus, please follow Lund," said Gerin. "I will join you shortly."

The lean man seated behind the ornate, hand-carved desk had a swordsman's demeanor rather than a merchant's and clenched his quill like a weapon. He scowled down at the column of numbers that was his current opponent and grasped a handful of silver-shot, light brown hair. He looked up as the door opened. "Gerin!" he cried. Thoril Jedar leaped from behind his desk and grabbed the boy in a hug, then held him at arm's length. "Are you and your sister all right?" he asked, through a beaming smile.

"Yes, Father, we are. Gerilia is freshening up, and it's her I need to talk to you about." He disengaged from his father's arms and closed the library door. "Where is the key?" asked Gerin.

"Next to the door on the table. So it's really that serious?" he said, fighting an impulse to chuckle.

"Yes, Father, I believe it is." Gerin locked the door and led his father by the arm to a pair of stuffed chairs near a bay window. "This tale will take a few minutes to tell and I do not wish to be interrupted by Gerilia. Let us sit, Father."

"Ah, so that's it, some sibling spat," said Thoril, and smiled as they sat.

"No father, it's not!" Gerin stood suddenly and gripped his father's upper arms hard. "This is not some quarrel over a toy or a tiff over some imagined slight. This is deadly serious, and I mean deadly! If you value any goodness that might be left in your daughter's heart you will pay attention to me." He released his grip and sat on the edge of his chair. "Look me in the eye, Father, and see if I don't mean every word I say."

Thoril Jedar, stunned by his son's intensity, stared at Gerin and nodded.

"Yes..." His face softened and he ventured a smile. "You've grown, son. And I like what I see. Tell me, Gerin. I will listen closely."

Gerin nodded and began his tale of their travels, the attack and Balthus and Adrianna's timely rescue. He was almost through the story when Gerilia began banging on the door.

"Father," she yelled. "Father I must see you now!" She rattled the doorknob and shook the door. "Father, open this door now!" She pounded on it with her fist. Abruptly, the pounding stopped.

"She is probably looking for Lund and the spare key," said Gerin.

"No matter," said Thoril. His face was still ashen from hearing how close he had come to losing both his children. "Please continue."

Gerin ran a hand through his hair. "The worst of it was her reaction, Father. Two men died defending us and she didn't even want to stop to bury them." He looked down and shook his head. "Balthus says we are doing her a disservice and I believe him to be correct."

Thoril Jedar leaned back in his chair. "Have I raised a spoiled, petulant brat who has no regard for others?" He covered his face with his hands for a moment, then leaned forward. "After your mother died..." Thoril sighed. "I could not refuse the two of you anything. Part of my problem is that I still think of you as children." He turned back and stared hard at Gerin, as if seeing him for the first time. "But you are no longer a child, and neither is Gerilia." He hesitated, then stretched out a hand. "Thank you for pointing that out." As Gerin accepted his hand, Thoril smiled. "I'm proud of you, son. You are turning into a fine man."

"That's what Balthus keeps saying," said Gerin, a blush forming on his ears.

"Yes, Balthus and Adrianna," said the elder Jedar, rising. "I must meet the saviors of my children and thank them with all my heart." He rose and put his arm around Gerin's shoulders. "Come, introduce me to your friends."

Balthus had doffed his helmet and Adrianna was fussing with his hair when Lund returned with a tray of bread, cheese, fruit and a half dozen glasses. "Please, help yourselves. I will return momentarily with wine."

Bo and Rory fell to wholeheartedly while Janelle and Adrianna nibbled on fruit.

"Not hungry, Balthus?" said Rory. "You must be ill."

"Ha! I'm not about to soil my palate with a bunch of fruit when the old fellow said he was bringing back wine. This vineyard produces some of the finest spirits in the kingdom."

"That's not what you told 'the Lady Gerilia,'" Bo said with a snort.

"Of course not. That one must be kept off balance and angry. I suspect she has a very charming side that she hasn't yet discovered. When she does, there will be no denying her anything. The best defense is to have her dislike you."

"Why Balthus," said Janelle, "are you saying you are afraid of her?"

"Terrified, Lady Janelle, terrified." Balthus glanced down the hall. "Ah, here comes the man of the hour."

Lund pushed in a rolling cart containing a dozen wine bottles. "If you Sirs and Ladies would like any advice on the wines, please let me know."

Balthus walked to the cart and examined each label. "I see you have sorted them by dry, sweet, light and heavy. What do you recommend for an early spring afternoon on a beautiful day?"

Lund's eyes brightened. "I can see, Sir, that you know your wine. I would recommend a light red." He withdrew a bottle and held it out for inspection. "The master's 'Fauargon' would be my choice," he said.

Balthus nodded.

Expertly opening the bottle, Lund filled Balthus' glass half-full and stepped back. Balthus walked to the window and held his glass up to the light as Gerin and his father entered the drawing room.

"Its clarity and bouquet is like none other in the world," announced Thoril Jedar.

Balthus glanced at Thoril then took another look at his wine. He lowered the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply. He took a small sip, letting it linger in his mouth before swallowing. Balthus nodded. "It's not Mostaries' Bitter Ale, but it will do."

Lund jerked like he'd been punched and Thoril threw back his head and laughed. "I can see that my son's description of his rescuers has been very accurate. You must be Sir Balthus of Steradam."

"I do have that honor, such as it is," said Balthus. "Let me introduce my friends." Balthus made the introductions and Thoril went to each one and shook hands, thanking them for their succor of his children.

He approached Balthus last. "Sir Balthus," he said, grasping Balthus' hand in both of his. "I don't know what to say, except 'Thank You.'" Thoril's voice quavered. "What reward could I possibly give you for my children's lives? Name it, and if it is in my power to give, it is yours!" he said fervently. He dropped his hands and bowed his head.

Balthus stroked his beard and took a sip of wine. "Well, how about giving us a bottle of this 'Fauargon' and we'll call it even."

Thoril clasped a hand to his chest and staggered back a step. "A bottle of wine for both my children's lives?"

"Well... all right," said Balthus. "Make it two bottles."

Thoril's mouth fell open.

A bright flash named Gerilia flew into the room.

"Father! So here you are. I must tell you quickly about our trip, then I must be off to town to talk to Lurella about the pageant."

Thoril stared at his daughter. "No, Gerilia, you are to go to your room. I will talk to you later when I have finished with my guests," he said softly.

"No, Father, you don't understand. I have to leave now!"

"Gerilia, hear me!" he roared. "Go to your room!"

Gerilia stared for a moment, then tears rolled down her face. "But Father, it will be so terrible if I don't get to town."

"It will be more terrible if you do not do as I say!" shouted Thoril. "Lund, please escort my daughter to her room, lock her in and bring me the key. If she refuses, have one of the guards carry her."

Shock instantly dried Gerilia's tears. "Father, you really mean it?"

Thoril nodded to Lund who reached over and touched Gerilia's arm. "This way please, Miss." Lund led Gerilia from the room. Her stunned eyes never left her father's until she was out of sight.

Thoril turned to his guests. "I must apologize for my daughter's bad behavior. It is something that, I promise you, will be rectified. Now, Sir Balthus, getting back to your reward. There must be something?" He looked at Balthus, then at each of his party with a questioning look.

Balthus shook his head then gestured toward the doorway. "What you just did is something I have wanted dearly to see for the past three days. It is satisfaction enough."

Thoril stepped back from the group and bowed his head. "Friends, you humble me in my own home. If there is anything you need, please let me know."

"Well, now that you mention it," said Balthus, placing an arm around Thoril's shoulders, "Gerin here has been bragging about the extent of your wine cellar."

Gerin choked. "I never!"

Balthus grinned and winked at Gerin.

"Uh oh," moaned Adrianna.

"And I wouldn't mind a tour of such a grand cavern," Balthus said, turning Thoril toward the door.

Adrianna had to drag Balthus from Thoril's wine cellar. He wasn't drinking much, only sampling here and there, but he pummeled Thoril with questions about wine-making and grape-growing. Thoril was a third-generation winemaker and had considerable knowledge of the craft, all of which Balthus tried to absorb in one short afternoon.

Everyone except Balthus and Thoril had left the wine cellars and gone back to the drawing room to eat and sample more of Thoril's bottled hospitality. The wine was fruity enough to be refreshing, but subtle enough to disguise its hidden kick. It was near dusk before Balthus got the swaying trio back onto their luses for the short ride to town. Balthus considered tying Janelle to her saddle but she promised she would manage.

Balthus mounted and turned to Adrianna. "You know, Love, I think that if we ever settle down, I might become a winemaker."

"There'd be little profit in it with you spending all day sampling the merchandise," she said, smiling.

"No, really," he said. "I think it's something I'd like to try."

"Well then, when this is over we'll pay another visit to Thoril and learn how to go about it."

"Balthus? A merchant?" slurred Janelle. "A wine taster possibly, but a merchant?"

"Ah, Lady Janelle. You misunderstand me. You never heard me mention one word about selling any of it." Tilting his head back, Balthus roared with laughter and everyone joined in.

Entering Freetown a short time later, Balthus turned down Center Street.

"Balthus, where to?" asked Adrianna. "The Arms is off to the left."

"Aye Lass, but I'm thinking of dropping the bandits' gear and extra luses at Skinny's," he said. "It'll save us time."

Adrianna nodded.

Riding through the poorer section of town, Rory, Bo and Janelle gawked through the haze of Thoril Jedar's best wine – a haze that loosened their tongues and overcame caution.

"God this place smells awful!" said Bo, pinching his nose.

"Yeah." Rory pointed to the ditch in the center of the road. "That must serve as their sewer system."

Janelle nodded. "It's bad enough with the luse droppings everywhere, but these people live like animals – look at that!" Janelle pointed to a woman emptying a chamber pot from a second-story window. She shook her head. "I'm surprised these people don't all die of some dreadful disease!"

"S'many of 'em do," slurred Rory. "I was in the League's vanguard for the relief of Sigma Three. Sigma had a top-of-the-line living standard. Eight months s'after the Kraken raid knocked out their power-plants, they were living like this," he said, waving an unsteady hand in front of him. "Disease took a bigger toll than the Kraken blasters." Rory closed his eyes. "Under technology's thin skin, we're still just animals."

Bo just stared off into space and swayed in the saddle. "I wonder if that's what the Gless were leaving behind when they left this plane of existence."

Janelle and Rory considered his words and then nodded.

Balthus and Adrianna glanced at each other. Balthus' eyes widened and he mouthed, "Gless?" Anxiety creased his face and his eyebrows rammed into each other.

Adrianna hand signaled: later.

Balthus hid his distress and nodded his head.

They reined in at a run-down stone building. A wooden board with the word "Trade" crudely carved into it hung over the doorway. Balthus flipped a copper to a raggedly dressed boy seated on a box near the door.

"Boy, tell Skinny that I'm here to pay what I owe him." The boy snatched the copper from the air and was through the door almost before Balthus finished his sentence. It only took a minute for "Skinny" to appear.

"Balthus, you old rogue! Good to see you. But I can't remember you owing me anything."

Balthus dismounted and they shook hand to wrist. "I don't, you old thief! But I figured it was the only way to get your fat arse out of some soft chair."

Skinny, all three-hundred-plus pounds of him, grinned, displaying his single front tooth. He patted Balthus on the shoulder and nodded to Adrianna. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, we came into some property and I wonder if you could dispose of it for us, quick like." He led Skinny to the bandits' luses and showed him the weapons and tack.

Skinny smiled. "Well," he said, wiping his hands on his already soiled shirt. "I couldn't do it for any less than fifty percent of the sale, and only because we're old friends."

"Skinny, we could dicker and dicker," said Balthus. "But Adrianna wants to get to a warm bath and she'll kick me to death if I make her wait any longer. How about we settle on the twenty-five percent we would eventually get to, and let it go at that?"

"Done!" said Skinny. "It's worth my time, too."

"What time? You're just going to go back inside and drink more wine."

Skinny grinned. "Yes, and I hanker to get to it. Where will you be staying?"

Balthus mounted his luse. "The Arms. Take care, Skinny." They rode on down the street.

Rory leaned toward Balthus and slurred, "Say, Balf. That fellow gets twenty-five percent of the sale?" He snorted. "Sounds like a lot for a minor brokering job."

"It is," said Balthus, pushing Rory erect. "But Skinny will get twenty percent more for that lot than I could, so it works out well."

Rory's head bobbed.

As they rode to the Arms, Balthus' jovial mask faded back into a worried look.

CHAPTER 51

Ta'Lon threw back the flap of his mutaleh, stepped out into the early morning air and stretched his huge frame. The vast encampment already bustled with activity. Smoke from hundreds of fires hung over the camp and mixed with the smell of cooking wartanga.

A red-forehead-stained warrior greeted Ta'Lon in passing. "Wa –ta Ocaow! Wa –ta!"

Ta'Lon nodded and strode toward the main campfire. Muscles bulged on every part of his incredible physique and rippled when he walked. He oozed power with each step, yet as he walked to the campfire his body flowed with the grace of a dancer. Like every other warrior, Ta'Lon wore a loincloth and had his wartanga-greased dark hair pulled back into an ehtatail. But unlike the others, his entire face was stained red, with the exception of a strip across the eyes.

Shouts of "Wa –ta Ocaow" followed as he walked through camp. A Sevoal woman approached him with head bowed and offered a piece of hot wartanga heart on an intricately woven grass mat. Ta'Lon stopped. He grabbed the meat but never took his eyes off the woman. "Raise your head," he said.

The woman raised her head and Ta'Lon quickly assessed her mutah-draped face. "You will bring wartanga heart to my mutaleh tonight." She hid a quick smile and bowed her head. Ta'Lon walked past her, taking bites out of the still smoking heart.

"Ocaow!" called a running messenger. "Sistek has arrived!"

Ta'Lon threw the heart behind him and several grots pounced on the meat. He wiped his hand on his muscled thigh.

A dozen warriors galloped into camp with Sistek at the fore. He rode directly toward Ta'Lon, leaping off as he neared.

"Wa –ta Ocaow! Hail the visible hand of Ocaow! Truly Ocaow is with us!"

Ta'Lon stood with thick arms crossed. Sistek was large for a Sevoal but Ta'Lon was easily a half-head taller. Sistek's superb physique looked puny in comparison to Ta'Lon's muscled bulk.

"It went well, then?" asked Ta'Lon.

"Just as you said, Ta'Lon. Just as you said!" His eyes shone with a zealot's bright fire. "Two thousand warriors will be at the Horn River at the second moon."

Ta'Lon smiled. "You have done well, Sistek. Ocaow cannot help but be pleased."

Sistek's smile widened. "How did it go with our southern brothers?" he asked.

"Very well," answered Ta'Lon, a smirk growing on his face. "When we meet at the Horn River, we will number over fifteen thousand."

"Hah!" exclaimed Sistek, then his brows furrowed in thought. "Will we have enough rays of the sun for so many?"

"We will, my friend, we will. Ocaow will provide. I go now to check on Nongus' progress. Escort me." Ta'Lon signaled and the largest ehta in the herd was brought to him. He mounted with a quick leap and rode east with Sistek. Two dozen of Ta'Lon's bodyguards rode in their wake.

Their ehtas carried them swiftly through the grassland. After several hours they crested a small rise overlooking a large valley. Along the far side of the valley rose a hundred-foot cliff stretching for miles in either direction. From a quarter mile away, the din of hammer on anvil could be heard. Smoke from burning forges hung low in the sky and filled the valley. The fires reflecting off the smoke gave the valley the appearance of hell and for many there, it was. Ta'Lon smiled and spurred his ehta forward.

Cries of "Wa –ta Ocaow!" greeted Ta'Lon as he rode into camp. A fat, squat Sevoal warrior stepped out from the largest mutaleh and stood waiting with arms crossed. His body was marked with black smudges and, like Sistek, his chin and forehead were ocher stained.

"Wa –ta Ocaow!" said the stubby warrior. He raised his right arm in salute as Ta'Lon and Sistek dismounted.

"Hail Nongus! How goes it?" asked Ta'Lon.

"The forging of axes and arrowheads proceeds. We are making as many a day as you demanded."

"We will need more. Many warriors are flocking to Ocaow's call."

Nongus laughed. "Get me more slaves and I will make as many rays of the sun as you need."

Ta'Lon nodded and studied the lines of slaves snaking from the iron mines. The bent-back laborers carried their heavy loads in woven grass baskets. They flowed in and out of the dark openings that dotted the cliffs. Nongus worked them day and night, stating it was always dark in the mines anyway.

"Will we have enough wood?" asked Ta'Lon.

"Yes. You supplied us well. The fletchers are finishing the rays of the sun almost before the arrowheads have cooled."

Ta'Lon smiled. He had chosen this location well. An area where water, iron and coal ore were in close proximity was rare in the grasslands. And timber... Ta'Lon thought it had been a stroke of his genius to fire the western woods. It gave him free access to the remaining forest, providing the lumber needed to shore his mines and build siege engines – and it had rid him of the troublesome Arvari at the same time.

"If you are going to bring more slaves, make some of them women." Nongus laughed. "They can carry as well as a man, and have other uses as well."

His leer spoke volumes. Ta'Lon knew that any woman given to him would not live long. "I will bring what Ocaow gives. I am sure he will reward you for all your excellent work."

"That reminds me," said Nongus, and gestured to a warrior nearest the mutaleh. "I have a slave who says he can show us how to make better arrowheads, faster."

Two men were led from the mutaleh. Both were filthy. Their clothing hung in rags on their emaciated bodies. As they approached Ta'Lon, the tallest one smiled, showing his few teeth.

"You claim to be able to help us?" asked Ta'Lon.

"Yes, your Lordship. My name's Peety, and I know several tricks to make a forge burn hotter. I would show you for some considerations is all."

"Were you a smith?" asked Ta'Lon.

"No, your lordship, but I worked as an apprentice for one and learned me all I could," he said. His smile grew bigger.

"What consideration?"

"Well, I don't know," said Peety, rubbing a hand on his cheek. "More food, or maybe I could be put in charge of the other slaves for you. Maybe get a woman once in a while. I ain't asking much and I got a lot to offer."

"This one," Ta'Lon said, gesturing to the man standing behind Peety. "Is he a smith?"

"No, your Lordship, he's just my friend, but he could help me with the other slaves."

Moving in a blur, Ta'Lon grabbed the friend by the back of the neck and forced him to his knees. He gripped the top of the man's neck with his free hand and effortlessly snapped the friend's neck. With a violent yank, Ta'Lon severed the head, spraying Peety in a fountain of blood.

It happened so quickly, neither Peety nor his friend had uttered a sound. Peety, trembling like a leaf, fell to his knees. Ta'Lon tossed the head away with no more thought than the breakfast he had tossed to the grots.

"Nongus! See if this one can help make arrowheads faster. If he fails, place him in the forge." Laughing, Nongus grabbed Peety's arm and led him away.

Sistek's eyes were shining. "Ta'Lon! A mighty show of the power of Ocaow! There is no one that can stand in our way!"

Ta'Lon's eyes narrowed. "There might be one..." He studiously flicked blood from his fingers. "But if he has not been taken care of already, he will be soon enough." All you aberrations will be taken care of soon enough.

They remounted and rode west.

CHAPTER 52

The hot bath felt glorious. Adrianna lay in the tub, refusing to think of anything while she waited for Balthus to join her.

He never came.

After an hour, she wrapped a towel around herself and went looking for him.

Balthus was still seated at the desk in their suite at the Arms, exactly where she'd left him, still busy at his task.

"Have you had any luck?" She removed the towel and rubbed her wet hair.

Balthus turned and gave her a quick glance, then did a double take at her nudity. He smiled.

"At least you still have the ability to focus on something other than that box," she said. "Had any luck?"

"Well, I've managed to cut my thumb, but that's all so far." He turned his attention back to the pale gray box Adrianna had taken from Janelle. Balthus had obtained a magnifying glass from the hotel and was working a thin blade under the box's edge.

"Balthus, take a break, take a bath, have some wine and relax a bit." Balthus had been shaken by the tipsy trio's latest disclosure more than she had.

"Take a break?" His eyebrows crunched together. "The Alliance, Kraken raids, blasters, power factories, advanced technology, and most of all, 'the Gless leaving this plane of existence!' And you want me to quit?" Balthus tossed the magnifying glass onto the desk and rubbed his eyes.

Adrianna placed her arms around his neck and rested her head on his.

"Nothing is as I thought it to be," said Balthus, softly. "I cannot grasp..."

"No, Balthus," said Adrianna giving him a little squeeze. "Nothing has changed. You still breathe. I'm still here. So these people have better tools – you're still the better man."

"What does it all mean?" he asked. "Who is it really we've been babysitting these past weeks?" He shook his head. "And that part about the Gless leaving this plane of existence..." Balthus reached up and placed a hand over her arms.

"I admit that one has me bothered... But does it matter? Remember that conversation with Dieya about gods and ghouls we had awhile back? Perhaps the Gless are just the 'gods' he is working for. He admitted they are not the real God, they are just another type of folk who now live somewhere else."

Balthus toyed with the box, but she could tell he was listening intently.

"There is still food to be eaten and wine to be drunk," she said. "Whatever else happens in the entire universe needn't concern us."

Balthus stood, turned and hugged her, burying his face in her neck. "You always know how to make me feel better." After a moment, he held her at arm's length and looked her up and down. "And do you know what else always makes me feel better?" Adrianna slapped a stiff arm onto his chest.

"Not right now, stinky boy. You smell like you've been riding a luse for a week, and I'm all clean."

"You can get clean again," he said and scooped her up in his arms. Realizing he still held the gray box, he tossed it onto the desk. It popped open with a small 'whoosh' sound. Balthus and Adrianna looked at each other and he lowered her to the ground. They approached the box with some trepidation, but soon Balthus had it under the magnifying glass. He examined the contents closely with Adrianna peering over his shoulder.

"There's no magic here," said Balthus. He looked at her and grinned. "It's just bits and pieces of metal and other material. It's a piece of machinery of some sort, like a water clock or a grinding mill but with few moving parts." He raised his eyebrows. "I have to admit I have no idea what it's for, or how they made it, but it's still a machine of some sort. It's a tool. You're right! These people don't have any special powers or abilities. They just have better tools!"

Adrianna grasped the real problem. Balthus didn't want to be a lower species. He believed in his importance in the universe and didn't want to think otherwise. She was glad. "Yes Balthus, they are just people like us – same hopes, same needs, same desires."

Balthus nodded, then sat erect. "Desires?" he said.

Adrianna backed away. "Oh no, stinky boy, forget it!" She laughed as she backed toward the bed.

Balthus looked up at the ceiling and pointed.

"I'm not falling for that old gag!" she said.

"There's always the 'old faithful,'" he said.

"Just leave 'old faithful' in your pants until you get cleaned up."

"No, I mean the 'old faithful' plan of chasing you down!" He leaped.

She ducked under his outstretched arms and, laughing, ran around the bed. He was after her in a second. She let out a little squeak and dove over the bed.

Snaking out a hand, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her toward him. "Now I've got you!" he said triumphantly. He rolled her over onto her back.

"Yes, but how are you going to keep a hold on me while you get out of those clothes, stinky boy?"

Balthus held onto her ankle with one hand, and stroked his beard with the other, pondering the dilemma. His face lit as the solution popped into his head.

Adrianna turned the spigot to add more hot water to the tub, then leaned back against Balthus' chest.

"I hope you don't mind taking another bath," he said, soaping her arm.

"I needed to, after all that," she said. "I hope the Arms doesn't charge us too much for the torn sheets."

"It was worth any price for such a noble cause." He smiled. "I'm glad to see I still haven't forgotten how to tie a hitch knot."

"You never forget anything – unless you want to. Let's get dressed and have dinner. Are you ready to face our charges again?"

"Yes, I'm ready. I hope they had as nice a rest as we did."

"They undoubtedly are still sleeping off the effects of our visit to Jedaria," she said. "I hope their heads aren't too bad when they awake."

"That is the true test of a good wine," he said, rinsing her off. "If you don't have a bad head, the wine was excellent. Bad head, bad wine."

"One afternoon with a wine merchant and you're an expert, eh?"

"No, many mornings waking with a bad head makes me an expert. Let's go round up our folks and get some dinner. I heard the innkeeper say the chef was making his stuffed-boar specialty tonight. We don't want to miss that."

Adrianna had to smile. Balthus' mind was on food. Once again, all was right with the world.

CHAPTER 53

A knock sounded at the door as Janelle finishing dressing. "Just a minute," she said and finished buttoning her blouse. The hot bath and nap had cleared her head somewhat, enough to allow her to worry about Bo's slip of the tongue. She hoped that they hadn't said what she thought they had said, and if they did, hoped Balthus and Adrianna hadn't heard it. Damn. I must remember to stay away from wine.

When she opened the door, Bo pushed his way into her room. Rory followed and closed the door.

Bo ran a hand through his still-damp hair. "Ma'am. Do you have any recollection of what we might have inadvertently said on our way through town? Rory thinks I might have mentioned the Gless." Bo pulled a chair from the desk and sat next to Rory who'd already found a seat.

"Lancelead," she replied, "I think we might have, as you once so graphically put it, 'stuffed the oucher' on that one. But we didn't get any questions or even so much as an odd look from either Balthus or Adrianna. They must not have heard us, didn't pay attention to our drunken ramblings, or know more than we think."

"Oh, they heard, Ma'am," said Rory. "It would take a lot to catch those two off guard." He paused in thought. "And does it really matter?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, Ma'am," Rory rose and began pacing the room, "you can't put spilled soga back in the envelope, so to speak. They heard us or they didn't. Either way, what could they do about it – run up and down the streets screaming, 'The Gless have left this plane of existence! The Gless have left this plane of existence!'?" He stopped, shot Bo a bad look, then continued his pacing. "It would have no effect on the development of this planet whatsoever. Balthus and Adrianna are not the ruling pair, whose every whim must be heeded. They will influence no one with this information and I believe that if they give an oath of silence, they will keep it." He smacked his fist into his hand and continued pacing.

"The Dieya told us very little about these folks," he continued, "but he seems to have taken them into his confidence, and that counts for something. But that's not all... I've been around the galaxy a few times and there are only a few people I trust to be at my back when trouble comes calling. Balthus and Adrianna are definitely on that short list." He stopped abruptly, as if realizing he was making a speech. He shrugged, sat back down and crossed his arms. "Well, that's just how I feel."

Bo and Janelle glanced at each other and smiled. "Well, Strikedag," said Janelle, "that's the most I've heard from you at any one time since this adventure began."

"Sorry, Ma'am, that's just the way it is. Balthus and Adrianna have earned my trust and become friends. A man should take care of his friends – and their trust."

"Hear, hear!" chimed Bo.

"It's good to know where you two stand," she said. "Actually, I feel the same way, and I agree with you. This world is a millennia away from being able to join the Alliance, and anything Balthus and Adrianna might say in the meantime will not be a problem. However – "

"I knew there was going to be a 'however,'" muttered Bo.

"However," continued Janelle, "the problem will be the Dieya. He has total authority on this world and he did give us orders."

"Yes, total authority means he could toss all of us into a star if he sees fit," said Bo. "And I wouldn't put it past that character, either."

"Maybe we're judging the Dieya too harshly," she said. "We didn't meet under the best of circumstances, and possibly he would see it our way."

Rory leaned forward. "The best way to go about breaking an order – and I know, having broken many – is to just do it and never let on you did it. It's the old 'what they don't know can't hurt us' adage. We could feel out Balthus and Adrianna, see how much they've put together, then fill in the blanks with as much as we see fit. Then swear them to silence."

"They are honorable people and they would keep silent if we ask them to," said Bo. "Especially if we told them how much trouble it could get us into."

"Yes, that's good," said Janelle. "Put the onus on them. I think that will ensure their silence. But what about us? Let's discuss what this would mean if say – Balthus is really the Dieya in disguise and has been testing us to tell Headquarters of our insubordination."

Bo jerked. "Some disguise! I suppose Adrianna is his hologram?"

"No, Bo. I know what Janelle is getting at," said Rory. "We should think about what it might cost. I've got twenty-two years in the service. I retire in three, if I retire at all. My pension has already been assured, and I've been a private before, so I say let's go ahead. I'm pretty much laserproof. Bo?"

"Ah, I see what you mean. Well, I've been in the service for three years. Joined because I was brokenhearted over a girl and wanted a change of scene." He looked at the incredulous expressions on their faces. "I know. I was incredibly stupid. But that's the way it was. Anyway, I passed the tests for the League's officer school and off I went. On leave, my girl and I made up and we married. I have three more years to serve. I would rather be home with her than here with you guys. No offense."

"None taken." Rory grinned. "I would rather be with her than you guys too."

Bo continued. "I see any reported insubordination either getting me thrown out of the service or holding me back from promotion. I don't think I'd see lock-down time." He looked to Rory and Janelle for agreement and both nodded. "All in all, I wouldn't lose too much. I'm not making the service a career, so..." Bo shrugged and looked at Janelle.

"I'm in the same boat as you, Bo," said Janelle. "I don't think I'd see any lock-down time either. The only thing I think I'd miss would be the promotion I'd be sure to get out of this. Not that I think much of wearing more gold ribbon, but I'd be allowed to research more classified material. The study of the Gless is fascinating, but my first love is other human cultures. If released from the service, I'm sure the paper I wrote on our experiences would assure me a seat on Prime University's Cultures Study Board. So..."

"It's spelled R-O-R-YT-A-N-N-E-R, Ma'am," said Rory, smiling. "Just wanted to make sure you get it right when you write about our exploits."

"Sorry to disappoint, but clinical dissertations don't mention names. They contain the social strata and class interaction of this society and would be mostly a comparison of development between other worlds' pre-industrial periods and this planet." She hesitated a second. "Does anyone remember the name of this planet?"

"It's called Dieya'd and Gone to Heaven," said Rory. He and Bo burst out laughing.

"Ravar," Bo chortled. "I believe Balthus called it Ravar."

"All right, gentlemen," she said, chuckling. "Perhaps I need to do a little more research, but I think we have come to an agreement. We share what we can with Balthus and Adrianna, going no further than filling in the blanks."

Bo and Rory stood and joined Janelle in the center of the room for a three-handed shake as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," yelled Janelle. Balthus and Adrianna entered the room and caught the end of the shake.

"We tried the other room and hoped we'd find you all here," said Balthus. "Everyone all right? Survived the adventure at the monster-laden winery?"

"There was only one monster at the winery," said Bo, "and she was locked in her room."

They laughed and Janelle noticed Balthus giving each a silent appraisal. She couldn't tell if he was doing it to see if they were still under the influence, or to see how ready they were for combat. Possibly both. When his eyes reached Rory's, the Strikedag just nodded and smiled back. The silent communication of two veterans passed between them. At that point Janelle knew they had made the right decision. They would answer any of Balthus' questions, and return trust for trust.

"Well, my fine friends, you are in for a rare treat," said Balthus, rubbing his hands together with obvious anticipation. "The Arms has the best food in the kingdom with the possible exception of the King's court, and that's only because he steals the Arms' chefs! Come," he said, ushering them to the door. "Tonight you will eat like never before."

The dining area of the King's Arms was as much a delight for the eyes as its food was for the palate. The honeywood floors were rich with ebony and gold inlays crafted in a masterpiece of design. Tastefully arranged padded mosaics hung on the walls to lessen the noise, while expertly draped cream-colored silks heightened the impression of intimacy. Richly appointed tables were set with gold plates, crystal goblets, and silver utensils. Strategically placed lamps, burning only the clearest unscented oils, lit the room.

When Balthus' party arrived, the hostess immediately led them to a reserved private dining room. Balthus seated himself at the head of a small table with Adrianna and Rory on his left, Janelle and Bo to his right. Once seated, the hostess asked for a drink order.

"Mostaries' Bitter Ale all around," said Balthus. The waitress nodded and left, closing the door behind her. "Friends, let me introduce you to the culinary arts of the King's Arms. Allow me to order for you and I promise your palate will be swept away from these drab surroundings to heaven above."

"Lead on, Sir Balthus," said Rory. "I can't think of a better man to lead when it comes to food." Laughter filled the room and the party was off to a good start.

Balthus ordered an appetizer of a fresh cheese and herb galette that went perfectly with the ale. He then moved them to a light salad accompanied by a sparkling white wine. The next course was the chef's stuffed-boar specialty, served with a red wine that complemented the sauce of the entrée.

The small talk centered mostly on food and drink. Throughout the evening, a fellowship was formed by five people who respected each other's skills and personalities and had lived every moment together for the last two weeks.

"Balthus, I must say," said Rory, "this is one of the finest meals I've ever eaten. And I, too, am a man who knows and loves good food. My complements on your choices."

"Ah, we're not done yet, my friend. For dessert we are having a light honey cake and a Silvarian brandy that will make your tongue sing."

"As long as you don't, we'll be all right," said Rory.

"His voice isn't that bad," said Janelle.

"Don't encourage him, Janelle, or we're all doomed," said Adrianna.

"This was wonderful, Balthus," said Bo. "I don't have the culinary experience Rory has, but this kind of dining must cost a fortune."

"Tut, tut, Bo, nothing is too good for my friends," said Balthus. "I spare no expense. Especially when I'm not paying for it."

"Uh-oh," said Janelle. "We'll be washing dishes for a year."

"Not at all, dear Lady. I received a note from a friend at the front desk. Thoril Jedar has informed the King's Arms that he is to be billed for our entire stay. So when the brandy comes, we will hoist a toast to our fine benefactor."

"He'll be surprised when he gets this bill," said Bo.

"Only the part about the torn sheets," mumbled Adrianna.

Balthus smiled at her, then continued. "I doubt it. Thoril Jedar is a very wealthy man. The winery is only a part of his holdings."

"Well, my thanks to him," said Janelle, and raised her glass. "This has to be the finest meal I've ever had." She smiled and added, "On any planet."

At that moment the brandy and cake appeared. Balthus sat patiently until the waiters left. He leaned back in his chair and casually sipped his brandy. "And how many planets have you eaten meals on, Lady Janelle?"

Bo and Rory leaned forward, placing their elbows on the table.

"Humm," pondered Janelle. "I'd say about eight or so. But then, I don't get out much."

Balthus stared at her, then at Bo and Rory, his small smile unable to hide the surprise on his face. "I don't know whether to believe you or not, Lady Janelle," he said.

"No, it's true," said Rory. "She doesn't get out much."

The trio erupted with laughter and even Adrianna joined in, loving the confused look on Balthus' face.

Rory was the first to speak. "Balthus, surely you have some guesses as to who and what we are. We'd love to hear your and Adrianna's theories."

Balthus sat forward and looked at Adrianna. Silent communication passed between them. He would take the lead.

"Well," Balthus paused and stroked his beard, "it took us a while to put some of the pieces together, but my first guess would be that you are not from around here."

The trio nodded.

"Putting your origin aside for now, I would say that you and Bo are military men of some sort and possibly Janelle also." He stared, but received no looks of affirmation from anyone. He glanced at Adrianna for moral support, then continued. "Janelle holds the higher rank followed by Bo, then Rory." This time he was rewarded with nods from the group. "You came here, not of your own choice, from a different world."

Balthus was walking on thin ice and he knew it, but was encouraged by a smile from Rory. "You are engaged in a war with the Kraken and there is a possibility it could spread to Ravar." Balthus leaned back, lifted his brandy snifter and hoped the embarrassment didn't show on his face. He didn't know why he felt so awkward. He reached for Adrianna's hand for comfort, at the same time trying to look blasé.

Adrianna came to his rescue. "The Krill was one of the Kraken, and Dieya is here to watch for them. His magic is –" she looked at Balthus and patted his hand, "– just better tools. You come from another world but are human, just like us." She looked across to Janelle. "And the Gless are... the Gless."

Balthus recovered and sat forward, picking up the discussion. "I think Dieya told us about the Gless a while back. He put it in terms of 'lesser gods.' I think this is about as much as I want to know about them." He sighed and sat forward. "So, friends, how'd we do? I take it you would not have put forth your question if you did not intend to give some answers."

"You two are right on the mark," said Janelle. "We are all in the military. I hold the rank of an officer, as does Bo. But they are fighting men and I am more of a scholar. I try to make sense of the information we have gathered about the Kraken." Janelle shook her head. "But I am amazed at you two. You don't seem at all upset or unbelieving at our tale. How are you able to adjust so quickly and so well?"

"Ha!" laughed Balthus. "We are seething with a thousand questions of how and why and where. How did we adjust? Well, we were getting small pieces of information a little at a time and our imaginations just ran with them. When we did piece the answers together, we had already run the gamut from the simple to the outrageous.

"As far as believing your tale," said Balthus, "we have legends of 'Travelers' visiting from other worlds, so it's not a new idea. It helps me to think of other worlds as if they were other lands, with a sea of stars in between instead of water."

He received nods from around the table.

"A question for you, Lady Janelle," said Balthus, leaning forward. "You said you've eaten on eight different planets. The astronomers tell us there are only three other planets, Argos, Mangor and Septula. Ravar has two moons, so if you count them all that still comes to only five. Are our astronomers wrong?"

The trio exchanged concerned glances.

"Uh-oh," said Balthus. "I can tell I've gotten something wrong just from your expressions."

Bo and Rory again looked to Janelle. She realized that they may have been wrong about these two having guessed the whole truth. Balthus and Adrianna had grasped the concept in terms of their own known universe. Janelle wondered if she should tell them the truth, or hedge and make it easy for them. She pondered the difficulties for a moment.

"You took a long time deciding, Lady Janelle. Was my error so far off the mark that it caused difficulties?" asked Balthus.

Janelle hesitated a moment longer. "Part of the problem is we don't want to cause you two any undue stress or confusion. The information we have will not matter at all in your lives, but it could destroy your concepts of the universe. We do not want to jeopardize our friendship by giving you information that would upset you or cause you to push us away."

"There's an easy solution," said Adrianna. "Give us the information and we will then tell you if it upsets us."

Janelle smiled and plunged ahead. "First, I'll start with a quick lesson in astronomy. Each star you see in the sky is like your own sun. They only look like pinpoints of light because they are so far away. Some of these other suns have planets, just like Ravar."

Adrianna took in the information and stared into her snifter trying to adjust to this new idea.

Balthus sat straight up, spread his arms out and said something that sounded like "gagh." The expression on his face was one of wonder.

Balthus finally found his voice and was still holding his arms wide. "You mean all those stars out there," he said, once again sweeping his arms over his head, "they all have planets with people on them?"

"No, not all. In fact, very few do," said Janelle. "But there are so many stars, ones so far away they can't be seen with your eye, that if only one was inhabited out of ten thousand thousand, there still would be very many. We have found over six hundred populated worlds so far."

"These inhabited worlds, do humans like you and I live on them?" asked Balthus.

"Yes, for the most part. There are some differences, but they are all very human."

Balthus dropped his arms and slumped back in his chair, a giddy smile slowly growing on his face.

"Balthus, how are you handling this?" asked Rory.

"Well, I feel like I was just told I was a father."

"What?" blurted Adrianna. She shook her head. "Balthus, you still manage to surprise me. How in the world, or worlds, does that information make you feel like a father?"

"I don't know. It just does. I feel suddenly like a part of me has spread through the stars and it is all me and I am all it."

Adrianna stared at him, mystified. "I feel like I am trying to put ten pounds of tubers in a five-pound sack. I'm still trying to get my mind around this, and you feel like a father?"

"I think I can explain it, Ma'am," said Rory.

"Please do!" said an exasperated Adrianna. She stared at the still-smiling Balthus.

"Well, when a man is told he has become a father, he feels like he is now a part of something greater than himself. It's like touching immortality, something that will go on long after he has gone. No matter what happens to him, things will go on. Is that it, Balthus?"

Balthus was still slumped in his chair, his smile having turned into a grin. "Yes, thanks Rory, that's it exactly. I take it you have had this feeling before?"

"Yes, when my son was born, and once when I looked out at a star and realized I'd been there."

Adrianna studied Balthus, whose eyes were shining like a kid with a new toy. She wasn't sure how she felt about this new look at the universe. She would let it sit inside her and cook for a while. Any answers she might need would pop out later. She thought Janelle was correct though – this was interesting but it would not affect their daily lives. Unless...

She looked at Balthus again and could see the wheels spinning. Her stomach tightened. "Oh no, Balthus! Forget it. Not a chance."

Balthus sat up and held her hand to his lips. "Oh please, please, please, please, please..."

"What are you two on about?" asked Janelle.

Adrianna looked at Janelle while Balthus held her hand and softly muttered "please" over and over. "Can't you tell? My man's feet were made with wanderlust. You just gave him an entire universe to roam in."

"Oh, no. Sorry, Balthus, the Dieya would have our heads," said Bo. "He gave us strict orders not to tell you two anything. If you even mention it, we will be in serious trouble."

"That's correct," said Rory. "The Dieya is the sole authority on this planet and we have broken about sixty rules just telling you about the universe."

"So blackie's the man in charge, eh? Maybe we can wheedle it out of him." He patted Adrianna's hand.

"Don't look to me for help," said Adrianna. "I like it here just fine."

"No, Balthus. The Dieya must never know," said Janelle. "If he found out we disobeyed orders we would be in big trouble. I don't know what it's like in your army when someone disobeys a direct order, but in ours it means a lot of trouble."

Balthus sat silently and digested this bit of news. Then he stood and raised his glass. "Friends, I salute you for telling us how things are, even though it might jeopardize your health. Your trust in us will not be betrayed. I so swear."

Adrianna also stood and raised her glass. "By your actions you have shown what good friends you are. No one will hear of this from me, I so swear."

Balthus and Adrianna clinked glasses, finished off their brandy, and threw their crystal goblets into the fireplace. With a musical crash, they smashed into a thousand pieces. They sat down and Balthus called for more glasses and more brandy.

"I was hesitant to smash the crystal goblets until I remembered who's paying for this meal," he said, smiling. "Teach him to foist his spoiled daughter off on us."

The drinks and more glasses arrived and the group became a little more subdued.

Balthus sat forward. "I can give up my dream about eating in the best inns on each of six hundred worlds, but I still have many questions if you folks are up to the task."

"Ask away," said Bo.

"How do you travel between worlds? Is it like the way Dieya disappears? And how is that possible?"

"Yes, very similar. The science to travel like the Dieya isn't even understood by most people, they just take it for granted," said Bo. "It was explained to me that the device bends the world we see like this..." He took his napkin and held the corners out away from each other, then brought them together. "...so two points are next to each other. They form a gateway between them."

"Just so! You need not board a ship or luse, just step through?" asked Balthus.

"Yes."

"And no one can see or feel this bending?" asked Balthus.

"No. It's nothing that can be seen. It's like, ah... you know that Ravar is round, correct?" asked Bo. His face said he hoped he wasn't opening another can of worms.

"Yes, I've been to sea and watched the ships sail over the horizon. It is not a new idea for us."

"Well, even though you are on a round ball, it seems flat to you."

Balthus nodded and leaned closer.

"Um, there are dimensions, that is ah, er, perceptions, ah..." Bo paused.

"Balthus," interrupted Rory, "there are spaces or worlds around us we are not aware of. The gateway uses these. The Dieya has a gateway concealed near Brightmoor Castle that we will use to get home."

Balthus sat back and relaxed. "Thanks, Rory. It's still confusing but I think I understand."

"Yes, thanks, Rory. I was beginning to feel like I was drowning," said Bo as he fanned himself with his napkin.

Everyone laughed.

"Let's just say that a lot of things have been discovered and have made travel easy," said Bo.

"I bet with these advances you have better weapons as well," stated Adrianna.

"Yes, we do," said Janelle.

Adrianna nodded. "If the weapon Dieya used to destroy the Krill was any indication, your wars must be pure hell."

"How much skill does it take to wield a weapon the likes of which Dieya used to destroy the Krill?" asked Balthus.

"None, really," said Rory. "Just point and touch the trigger."

Balthus sat erect. "You mean any lout can have that much power without training or practice?"

"There are laws against it, but yes, that's what it means," answered Rory.

Balthus looked at Adrianna and shook his head. "I don't think you have to worry about me going any further than here, my Love. It sounds too dangerous out there."

"I begin to see why Dieya is so protective of the people of Ravar, and wants to hide this secret," said Adrianna. "Just think if some of those weapons fell into the wrong hands."

Rory held up his dinner knife. "And those weapons are like this knife compared to others that we have."

Balthus looked at each of the trio. "Then the war with the Kraken must be a horror beyond all horrors. I hope there is song and happiness somewhere in your worlds," said Balthus.

"Yes, but we must always remain vigilant," said Rory. "In fact, that is our service motto – 'Eternal Vigilance.'"

"Hear, hear," said Bo, raising his glass.

"Such is always the price of freedom in any land," said Balthus, joining them in their toast. "The war with the Kraken – it goes well?"

"No one is sure, Balthus," said Rory. "Each world is like its own outpost with the Kraken sometimes hitting them like raiders, and sometimes destroying the entire world. We banded together, but we don't know where the Kraken come from or even where their home world is."

"Or why they attack us or even what they look like," added Janelle.

"It sounds like red war just the same, fought on a grander scale." Balthus shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know why they are at war with you? Do they take and hold lands?"

"No, they just destroy," said Rory. "It's a war of extermination. Sometimes they do take prisoners but we think they just want to examine us." He shrugged. "The war has been fought thus far against their ships and machines we call battle droids. They are like metal men and have independent actions."

Balthus shook his head in amazement. "You say you don't know what they look like? Isn't the Krill one of them?"

"Yes, but the Krill is just a construct made by the Kraken. They are not the Kraken themselves."

"Yes, Dieya mentioned something like that." Balthus looked into his brandy glass. "Let me tell you of our fight with the Krill and you can tell us how it fits in."

He related the battle with the Baron of Yorburg and his destruction by Dieya.

Rory raised his glass in silent toast to both Balthus and Adrianna.

"How did the Krill get to Ravar? Through one of those gateways? And how did he become the Baron?" asked Balthus.

"The Krill is just an evil machine that enters a human body and takes it over, changing it as it sees fit, with a pre-programmed agenda," said Rory. "It has the ability to harden the bone and muscle to an almost metal strength, but it burns up the host quickly and the body decays after about six months. Outside of a human body it is powerless – it can do nothing."

"Yes," said Janelle. "We had some of our own captured people returned to us as Krill and do some serious damage before we found out how to detect and neutralize them."

Adrianna looked at Balthus, then back to Janelle. "Then someone has to place it in a human body for it to work?" When she received nods she turned to Balthus. "Then there is still a Kraken agent on this planet, the one who started this whole thing."

"Hopefully that is what the Dieya is taking care of now," said Rory.

Balthus pondered the information he had been given. Perhaps Dieya was trying to keep them out of the Kraken war, but in his gut he felt that want it or not, war was coming on. He raised his glass. "Another toast."

The others raised their glasses.

"To Dieya. May his work be fruitful." He drained his glass and refilled his and Janelle's. "Gentlepeople, I meant for this to be an evening of friendship with no worries. Let's table this discussion of war and just get to know one another better."

"Good idea, Balthus," said Bo. "The three of us don't even know each other that well. We'd only been together a few days before you met us." He turned to Rory. "Rory, you mentioned earlier that your pension has already been assured, yet you have three years until retirement. I thought a marine's pension wasn't guaranteed until after twenty-five years. How did you accomplish that, and can I get some?"

"I don't think you'd want it the way I got it," said Rory. He looked down into his glass and swirled the brandy.

"How did you get it?"

Balthus looked at Rory's face and knew Bo would do well to let it lie, but that was between them.

Rory took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm a holder of the Alliance Battle Star."

Bo's eyes widened and Janelle's mouth dropped open.

"What is the Alliance Battle Star?" asked Adrianna.

"The Star is the highest decoration we have in the Alliance," said Janelle. "In two hundred and fifty years of war and thousands of awarded medals, less than eight hundred Battle Stars have ever been awarded. It is most prestigious."

Balthus could see that Rory didn't want to talk about it and tried to change the subject. "And it comes with a pension. Nice going, Rory! Let the King pick up the tab once in a while, I say. You mentioned before that you had a son. Is he in the service, too?"

Rory looked down into his glass again. "He was," he said, not looking up. "He's gone now. We served together for a little while. We were both at Duebuy." He drank the remainder in his glass and reached for a refill.

Balthus could have bitten off his tongue. He looked to Bo and Janelle and could see the shock on their faces.

"Sorry, Rory," said Balthus. "I didn't mean to bring up unhappy thoughts. Just the opposite."

"I know, Balthus," Rory said, and gave him a little smile.

"I'm sorry too," said Bo. "As your Lancelead I should have known about the Battle Star. I just never got around to it." Bo hung his head.

A slight smile touched Rory's lips. "Sir, did you go over my proficiency records?"

"Why, yes but –"

"Do you know my area of training and skill levels?"

"Yes, but –"

"Do you know how my skills can be best utilized in action?"

"Yes."

"Then you were doing your job as Lancelead. It doesn't matter what a man did as a marine, only what he can do now. The rest doesn't matter."

Bo took a moment to absorb that fact and nodded his head. "Thanks Dagger. You are right. But I have to say it is an honor to serve with a member of the Duebuy Defenders." He raised his glass, as did Janelle, and saluted Rory.

"I have to ask, my curiosity has gotten the better of me," said Adrianna. "Duebuy?"

"Duebuy was a planet on the rim where the Alliance's First Space Marine Division was stationed," said Janelle. "Twenty-five thousand strong. Their base was at the entrance to the only inhabited valley on that world. A valley where some three hundred thousand unarmed civilians lived. The Kraken opened several dimgates outside the marine base and pushed through more than half a million battle droids of all sizes and types before the marines could close them down. The Duebuy Defenders fought for forty-five days, not allowing a single battle droid into the valley. At the end of the battle, every battle droid was destroyed. Of the twenty-five thousand defenders, only one hundred and forty-one survived. The Alliance awarded each survivor the Alliance Battle Star."

Balthus and Adrianna stared at Rory.

"You do what you have to do," Rory said with a shrug. "Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you're not."

Adrianna reached across and touched Rory's hand.

"Couldn't your gateways be used to get help?" asked Balthus.

"There are devices that make the gateways inoperable," said Janelle. "Several times the Kraken have brought in a dampener that can neutralize an entire planet's gateways. No one escapes."

Balthus wanted to pull the attention from Rory, whom he sensed could use a break. "My friends, we have had some interesting talk and a fantastic meal. But the night is still young. There are places to go and people to see."

"Balthus, I know you'd like to go tavern hopping but I think we should get an early start on the morrow," said Adrianna.

"All right, we'll only go to the Blue Boar."

"The Blue Boar?" Adrianna gaped. "If you wanted to go somewhere nice I might be of like mind, but the Blue Boar – no way. That place is only good for getting into fights."

"Not the only thing," he said, smiling and running a finger along the edge of his brandy snifter. "I hear they have a bard singing tonight."

"No bard could be good enough to get me to go to that hole," she said.

"Not even Sahar?"

Adrianna stared, her eyes misting over for a moment. "Sahar is playing at the Blue Boar tonight?"

Balthus smiled and nodded.

Adrianna stood. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Balthus laughed and glanced at the trio. "Sahar is one of Ravar's best bards – and Adrianna's favorite, in case you haven't guessed. The only reason he sings at a hole like the Blue Boar is because his uncle owns the place and he does it as a family favor. Sahar is so good that even I, a jealous man, will let him live after watching his effect on Adrianna."

"Come on, Janelle, you're going to love him!" said Adrianna excitedly.

"See what I mean?" said Balthus to the men.

They stood to leave and Balthus dropped several silver pieces on the table for the hostess.

Cool night air revived the party as it washed away the heaviness of the earlier conversation. Once again they were just friends out for a good time.

The walk to the Blue Boar emphasized the difference between the better part of town and the worst. Janelle commented on the dichotomy of the people's finery near the King's Arms and the horribly deformed beggars as they neared the Blue Boar.

"Yes, Freetown has all extremes," said Balthus. "Extremely rich, extremely poor, base degenerates and religious fanatics. That's what keeps it interesting."

Arriving at the Blue Boar, Balthus led them through a stench-filled alley to the rear of the inn. As they entered the back door, the owner rushed over and shook Balthus' hand. Janelle thought she saw a glint of gold change hands.

"All is ready, Sir," said the proprietor. "Please follow me." He led them through the kitchen to a table in the main hall very near the small raised platform that would serve as a stage. He gestured to a waitress and left.

The oil lamps were turned low except for a few with reflectors focused on the single chair on the platform. It set the scene for a hall that was crowded but subdued with anticipation.

"I think we got here just in time," said Balthus as the waitress arrived.

"Yes," said the maid as she served the group weak wine. "He'll be out in a few moments." She hurriedly filled their mugs and left. The crowd grew hushed as a lone figure carrying a lute walked through the dark and ascended the platform.

With one look, Janelle knew the incredibly handsome bard could be a top entertainer on any world. Sharp, chiseled features lent him an aristocratic air, but deep-blue, sympathetic eyes softened his face and attracted the eye of every woman in the room. He wore white leggings and a white tunic with a gold embroidered pattern. His entire body radiated charisma from his long golden ringlets to his sandal-covered feet.

Sahar took his seat, removed his soft white cap and placed it on the stage. He bowed his head to the audience and played a flurry of chords and short melodies that served as his overture.

As he began, the rich timbres of his baritone voice transported Janelle into his story. A story of true love lost. Sahar played while he spoke, changing tempo and tune to fit the narrative. He broke into a song about the young lover's first meeting and Janelle was reminded of her own first love as the melody stirred her heart. Sahar's tale finished with a bitter-sweet song of parting lovers. As the last chords faded into the darkened hall, he bowed his head low.

The crowd roared.

Janelle found herself on her feet applauding madly and surging toward the stage along with everyone else. Adrianna applauded franticly and elbowed her way closer to the stage.

Sahar held up his hands in acknowledgement and asked if the crowd would like another. With cries of "Yes!" the crowd settled back down and he began. This time the tale was of a knight and his choice between honor and duty. Once again Sahar's playing and voice became a vehicle that transported the listener into the story.

For two hours, Sahar played, varying his tales from the homespun to the heroic, from the comic to the sad. As he finished his last tune about the birth of a couple's first child, all the women and a few men wept.

Sahar stood and bowed as applause rocked the room. A serving girl picked up his hat and walked around the audience, taking a collection. By the time she had finished, she needed both hands to carry the hat. The applause died down as Sahar left the stage and servants scurried to light more lamps. The mixed crowd of rich and poor alike flowed toward the front door.

"Let's wait till the crowd empties out a bit before we try to leave," suggested Balthus. "What did you think of our bard?"

"He was magnificent! He could be a star on any world," said Janelle.

"Thanks for bringing us," said Adrianna, touching his cheek.

"Yes, he was great!" joined Bo.

Rory nodded.

As the hall emptied, a loud deep voice shouted, "Horned helmet! Horned helmet!" A sudden movement of people being pushed aside at the far side of the inn drew their attention. The crowd parted like water. A seven-foot giant of a man staggered to the middle of the room and pointed a sausage-sized finger at Balthus.

"I knew our paths would cross someday!" he said in a drunken slur.

"Uh-oh," said Balthus. A stoic look replaced the worry lines that had creased his face for a moment.

"What's going on?" asked Rory. "Who is that giant?"

"Oldwick," said Adrianna. "Someone Balthus insulted a while ago. Evidently he hasn't forgotten." She grabbed Balthus' arm. "Balthus, run for the back door, now!"

Balthus looked at Adrianna and smiled. "You know I can't do that, Love." He slowly rose to his feet.

The crowd made a wide ring around Balthus' table and Oldwick. Janelle smiled at Adrianna, then stood.

"Balthus, is this big jerk bothering you?" She winked at Rory and Bo.

"Janelle," said Balthus. "Poking a bull with a sharp stick isn't the way to calm it down."

Janelle held up a hand. "You relax, Balthus. I'll handle your light work." She turned and stepped toward Oldwick.

Balthus started to come around the table but Rory held him back. "Wait – give her a moment."

Bo said, "Are you crazy? He'll break her in half!"

"Have you ever seen a Denwabi gold-ring-holder in action?" asked Rory. Bo stopped halfway to his feet, smiled and sat down.

Rory held onto Balthus' arm, preventing him from moving. "Watch," said Rory.

Janelle stood in front of Oldwick with her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands on her hips. "He's a friend of mine who's buying me drinks. I suggest you leave us alone."

The crowd gave out a scattered titter of laughter. Oldwick saw her for the first time.

"Out of my way, woman!" he yelled and tried to push her aside.

Janelle grabbed the extended hand and suddenly Oldwick was lying on the floor. The crowd gasped with a cry of disbelief. Janelle moved toward the center of the circle.

"I said, leave us alone. He's paying for my drinks!"

Oldwick sat up and looked around, obviously perplexed as to how he wound up on the floor. He staggered to his feet and, roaring, lunged at Janelle. She crouched and spun, sticking out a leg. Oldwick tripped, crashing onto a table and several patrons. He rolled over and stared at her, oblivious to the patrons under him or the table he had just turned into kindling.

"Stand still, woman, so I can crush you!"

"If that's the way you want it," said Janelle.

Oldwick rose to his feet, aided by the people under him. He walked to her slowly this time, his two ham-sized fists clenched before him. Janelle leaped straight into the air and, spinning, kicked him with a hard-booted foot square in the temple. He went down to his knees. This put them about eye to eye. Janelle hit him with a series of quick open-handed stabs to pressure-points on his neck and chest then backed away. His eyes slowly closed and he fell face down on the floor.

The inn rang with cheers as Janelle walked back to a smiling Bo and Rory, a surprised Adrianna, and a totally stunned Balthus.

Rory patted Balthus' arm. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"But how did she? I mean – what did she do?"

Adrianna raised her voice above the din of the patrons. "Let that be a lesson to all you men. Don't get between a lady and her wine!"

The room erupted with laughter and people once again filed toward the door while Oldwick's drinking companions bent to help their fallen friend.

"I suggest we leave before he wakes up and finds a weapon," said Adrianna.

They made their way to the door, Adrianna pulling a speechless Balthus. As they passed the still-prone Oldwick, one of the men helping the giant glanced up at Balthus and nodded. Balthus' body tightened. He nodded a greeting back to the kneeling man and they left the Blue Boar.

Once out in the street, Bo laughed and danced around the group. "What a night!" he said. He walked backward in front of the group and occasionally did a few dance steps. "She moves, he falls, she moves, he falls, he moves, she kicks his butt!" he said, leaping into the air.

"Lady Janelle," said Balthus. "Please don't ever do that again. You could have been seriously hurt or killed."

"He wasn't armed and he was pretty drunk. Besides, you have to allow me to help you out once in a while."

"Where did you learn to do that?" Balthus asked.

"Oh, I've been practicing that discipline for a number of years."

"That was something to see, Janelle. You must show me a few moves," said Adrianna. "It would come in handy from time to time." She shot a look toward Balthus.

"Oh boy," muttered Balthus.

They walked on a while in silence.

"Balthus," said Adrianna. "Who was the man kneeling by Oldwick? I noticed you recognized each other."

"Hawke," said Balthus. "Eli Hawke. We were in the war together." He shook his head.

"I take it he is not a friend of yours," said Rory.

"No. We were on the same side, that's about all."

"There's more to it than that," said Adrianna. "I felt you stiffen when you saw him."

"Yeah, well..." Balthus grew silent for a moment and stared at the ground. "He's the quickest and deadliest man I've ever seen." Balthus looked her in the eye. "And he's a stone-cold killer. He makes me uneasy."

"I've known some like that," said Rory. "They just like to kill."

"No, that's not it. I've known that type also, but that's not him. He doesn't do it for enjoyment. He just does it. It means no more to him than crossing the street or eating bread. Someone with absolutely no conscience bothers me. It's unnatural." He grew silent, alone with his memories, as did the rest of the group.

The walk back to the Arms was quiet.

CHAPTER 54

Dieya paced the small, windowless palace antechamber, mentally cursing the King, Alliance policy and life in general. Finding two more collector nodes on the grassland plains was at the root of his ire. How had the Kraken infiltrated Ravar without him knowing? He had gone over the dimgate data at his command center again but found only the spikes of his arrival and the trio's. The possibility that the Kraken might have some way of disguising an off-world gate activation weighed heavily on his mind.

Inhaling deeply, he tried to relax. His gut told him that the one called Ta'Lon was the Kraken agent, but finding the migratory leader in a sea of grass was proving to be difficult. He cursed the Alliance's lack of funding for the Dieya Corps. He glanced down at his clenched fists and forced himself to ease up.

After his futile search through the grasslands, he decided to beseech King Justin for troops to bolster the eastern borders. It had taken a small vidholo trick and gold to convince several secretaries that he needed a private meeting. He added bureaucrats to the list of things to curse.

The door opened and a young page in the King's livery proclaimed: "The King will receive your Lordship now. Please follow me." The lad led him to a side room off the royal audience chamber. The page opened the door and announced, "Dieya the Sorcerer, at his Majesty's command."

King Justin IV sat behind a long table surrounded by papers, scrolls and books. A "private" audience with the King consisted of four armed guards, three ministers, the King's Chancellor, two servants, a scribe and the King's jester.

Dieya studied the King. He was a pudgy, docile-looking man in his early thirties, with rosy apple cheeks and a receding hairline. A gold-embroidered white tunic with gravy and wine stains completed the picture. Dieya refrained from shaking his head and instead, bowed low. "Your Majesty."

"Ah, here is a welcome change to all this tiring paperwork," said the King, pushing away a minister who held an open scroll. With obvious skepticism the King stared at Dieya. "You claim to be Dieya the Sorcerer, but you can't be. He would be a very old man by now." The King studied Dieya closely. "You do resemble the man I once saw as a boy, but you couldn't be him."

"Yes, your Majesty, I am he. The last time we met was at your tenth nameday celebration. I believe I displayed this for you." Dieya held out his hand and a bright blue baby harbill appeared on his palm. The King sat up and applauded as the small boy once did. Dieya tossed the harbill into the air where it turned into a white alarat. The bird took wing and flew to the ceiling. Dieya snapped his fingers and the alarat disappeared in a shower of sparks that vanished before reaching the ground. The king smiled and applauded. Dieya was glad he still had that vidholo on file.

"Wonderful," said the Chancellor with a dismissing flick of his hand. "Perhaps we can arrange for a show later, but now we have matters of state to discuss."

"That's why I am here, Chancellor, to discuss a state matter."

"State matters are discussed by the King's ministers and advisors. If you have some minor information, take it to the secretary," he said with another condescending flick of his hand.

Dieya sighed and billowed his cloak in front of him, then jerked it back. A full-grown male ligor appeared from under his cape and with a heart-stopping roar, leaped to the table and growled down at the Chancellor. With a snap of Dieya's fingers, the ligor disappeared. The episode was over before the guards could do more than raise their halberds. The Chancellor paled and hurriedly reached for his wine goblet.

"I will not be condescended to, Chancellor!" said Dieya, raising a fist. "If you knew your history of Ravar, you would know that Justin the First made me the King's Advisor in perpetuity. I have watched over the reign of all his descendents ever since!"

The King held up his hand. "Sorcerer Dieya, please forgive Chancellor Egan. Your presence here is something of a surprise to us." He frowned at his Chancellor. "I have read the histories and I respect my forefather's appointments. We will hear your advice. Unfortunately, I do remember reading that your arrival always preceded bad news. What is it this time?"

Dieya bowed low again. "I have come to implore the King to send the King's Arm to Baron Genardt's castle at Glendell. I have knowledge that it will be attacked within two months by the Sevoal, your Majesty."

"The Sevoal!" said the Chancellor regaining his composure. "How? Those savages are no threat to us. Their flint arrows and clubs are of no danger to any armored host. Glendell castle has stout walls and a core of knights that will rout any savage." Disdain crept back into his voice, urged by arrogance. "I ask again, how?"

Dieya reached inside his cape and held aloft a red arrow.

"With this!" He hurled the arrow. It stuck, quivering, into the table in front of the Chancellor. "They are making steel arrowheads, and combined with their wartanga bows, these arrows will pierce a knight's armor like he was wearing a wool shirt."

The room filled with mutterings as the ministers began talking among themselves.

"Gentlemen, please!" said the King. He directed his attention back to the Sorcerer. "The Sevoal have always lived in small tribes. They would never be a threat to us." His eyes narrowed. "Unless there is more you haven't told us."

Dieya realized that the blood of Justin I did run in this King's veins. A small smile grew on his face. "Yes, your Majesty. A Sevoal leader has arisen to unite the tribes. He has taken the mantle of the Sevoal god Ocaow. For them, this will be a holy war. Once Glendell Castle has fallen the Sevoal horde will flood into the kingdom."

The King steepled his fingers and closed his eyes for a moment. He then sat erect and placed his palms flat on the table.

"Leave us," he said with a raised voice. "All of you. Leave us." His voice lowered until it could just barely be heard. "I wish to consult with the Sorcerer alone."

The Chancellor rose to his feet. "Sire! I beg of you –"

The King raised a hand. "I will keep my guards, don't worry. Go." The ministers rose and left, followed by the jester and servants. As the door closed, the King gestured to the Sorcerer.

"Please, sit down. Have some wine. I have forgotten my manners. Is there something you need? Food or something other than wine?"

"No thank you, your Majesty." Dieya pulled out a chair and sat across from the King. "I am glad you have taken some of your valuable time to hear me out."

The King smiled. "I have read the histories of the Kingdom avidly. I don't seem to be like my predecessors, hankering for power and glory. I am more at home in my library than anywhere else." He paused to fill his wine goblet and poured one for the sorcerer. "I have been remembering some of the things I have read about you. One thing that stands out is that you are no one's sycophant. You know my time is no more valuable than anyone else's."

Dieya smiled. "I have to apologize, your Majesty. You are more perceptive than I realized."

"Oh, I know what these fool ministers think of me, and my Chancellor... Well, let's just say he does have the Kingdom's welfare at heart. If not, he wouldn't be here. He has a brusque manner, but he gets things done, and that is what needs to happen in the realm right now." He paused to take a drink, but Dieya saw he was struggling with whether or not to reveal something.

"You said that you have been watching over our reign since Justin the First. Is that true? Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me what is true."

It was Dieya's turn to struggle with revelations. "Sire, I believe your Kingdom is the best hope for all peoples of Ravar. The rule of Justin the First was the first time I perceived any hope for enlightenment in this world. His doctrine of 'King or commoner, no one is above the law of the land,' was inspired. I know that many discrepancies happen, but that law gives hope to all your people. One day that hope will blossom into a kingdom of free men who will guide the rest of the nations of the world into a time of peace and prosperity. This is why I do what I can for your Majesty's Kingdom."

The King nodded and pursed his lips. "Well then, Sir Sorcerer, let me tell you of our current problems that relate to yours." He took a deep breath. "I am not a good King." He held up his hand to stop the denial that wasn't forthcoming. He chuckled. "Well, I guess I asked for honesty," he said and shrugged. "I have made some very bad choices and had some hard luck or bad advice. The truth is, the kingdom is practically bankrupt. We tried to build too much, too quickly."

The King pushed aside the scrolls on the table and leaned forward. "That was my fault. We built a navy to protect our merchant fleet, hoping to open trade routes to Javan. Yet we are still in negotiations and not one single trade item has left our ports. The incursions of the Cosakaldi hill tribes have tied up some of the Arm for almost two years.

"And worst of all, 'Ole Bess,' our gold mine at the base of the Ligour Teeth Mountains, seems to have petered out. This brings me to your request for the Arm." He looked into his wine goblet. "There is no longer any Arm. There are, at most, only two thousand knights in the entire kingdom."

Dieya felt his face flush.

"There is not enough gold to keep them," the King said with a shrug. "We had hoped that things would turn around and we could re-build the Arm before anyone would be the wiser. We have been at peace for a good while. No one could foretell of an attack by the Sevoal."

"No, I suppose not." Dieya sat back in his chair, lost in thought. Bad timing? Bad luck? Manipulation by the Kraken agent? It didn't matter. He would have to go over the satellite geological scans and see if he could come up with any local source of gold. If forced to, he would import it. With the Kraken involved, the non-interference policy was moot. Suddenly, he remembered something that might help. He stood and walked to the center of the room.

"Sire, perhaps we could be of mutual assistance. Please stay seated and call no one into the room. I will return in a moment." With that he touched his amulet and vanished with a blue glow.

Dieya stood at the door to his base of operations and patiently waited for the retina scan to finish. The door opened and he strode to his closet, the door snapping shut behind him. Pushing things aside, he searched until he found the small chest he sought. He lifted the chest and touched his amulet.

The King jerked, spilling his wine as Dieya reappeared in the throne room. He placed the chest in front of the King, and threw back the lid. The contents shone brightly. "Sire, here is a chest of jewels that should keep the kingdom going for a little while. I will use my magicks to try to find another source of wealth for the kingdom's treasury."

The King stood and looked down at the chest. He picked up a handful of glittering gems and let them cascade from his fingers. "Are these real?"

Dieya nodded. "Quite real, your Majesty. As a matter of fact, these gems were a gift from Justin the Second for some service I performed."

The King looked up from the chest, stood, then walked around the table. "I have often wondered if the stories about you in my ancestors' journals were true or just their imagination. I am glad to see that one of my descendants will read my journal and wonder the same about me." He held out his hand.

Dieya took the hand and smiled. The King covered Dieya's hand with his other. "You mentioned mutual assistance? How can I be of service?"

"Sire, I would like you to send as many of the King's Arm to Glendell –"

"Done. I can spare about one thousand knights."

"– and I would like to post an announcement throughout the kingdom recruiting men for three months of military service. It would be more effective if the proclamation came with your blessing."

"I take it you will be picking up the cost of this mercenary group?"

"Yes, your Majesty. All costs incurred will be mine."

"Then it will go out with our seal," said the King. He raised a finger. "I have a suggestion, Sir Sorcerer. Not as many men will respond to a call to follow 'Dieya the Sorcerer.' Few believe you exist and the ones that do will be wary of joining you. Do you know anyone else who could lead this band?"

Dieya thought for a moment and knew there was only one choice. "Yes, your Majesty. I believe I have just the man." A grin forced its way to his face.

CHAPTER 55

Balthus, Adrianna and the trio got a late start leaving Freetown. Dropping off the bandits' stolen goods at Lancer Headquarters took most of the morning as Balthus found a willing audience for his tale of the carriage attack.

The party was in high spirits as they headed north. The road was wide enough to ride three abreast, the trio in front with Balthus and Adrianna in the rear leading the pack animals. After an hour, they slowed to a walk and Bo dropped back to talk with Balthus. Adrianna handed the pack-luse reins to Balthus and joined Janelle and Rory.

"How far is this Brightmoor Castle?" asked Bo.

"About three days ride at the speed we've been traveling," said Balthus. "We stay on this road for another day, then ride northwest through farms and forest. The trails are well used through the forest, so we should make good time. We'll stay at an inn tonight then camp for the next two nights."

Bo nodded and grinned.

"You must be anxious to get home," said Balthus.

"Well, I've been away from home for almost seven months now and I'm overdue for a long visit with the wife."

"Young love at its finest!" Balthus was quiet for a moment. "Ah... If you find it hard to wait, Lad, there will be some comely and willing wenches at tonight's inn..."

Bo stared but Balthus refused to meet his eye. Bo shrugged. "I think I will pass on that, Balthus. Thanks anyway. If I even think about another woman, my wife will know."

Balthus glanced Bo's way. "So, the more things change the more they remain the same, eh?"

"No, that's only the society my wife and I come from," said Bo. "There are many different cultures across the galaxy with many different ideas about sex. I know of one world where the women are the ruling group and men are mere sex toys. Most cultures have evolved to the point where men and women are equal."

Amazement wreathed Balthus' face.

"No, it's true," said Bo. "It doesn't take any great strength to use our weapons and most of the labor is done by machines." He shrugged. "Men and women are equal."

Balthus shook his head, and then sighed. "If you think men and women are equal, Lad, you're in for a rude shock. Men have never been equal to women in anything except strength of arms. Women are mentally the stronger and have more endurance than they let on. They are the most forceful and devious creatures the Great Maker ever created. They're not very loud and showy about it, and that's another one of their strengths." He snorted. "Equal? Wait till you have been married a while longer, then you'll learn." Under his breath Balthus added, "I hope so, for your sake."

Bo rode in silence for a while, then asked, "What's at Brightmoor Castle? Anything special?"

Balthus scratched his beard. "No. It has nothing special about it. It is near the center of the kingdom, but that's about all. The Duke – Duke Astard that would be – is a tolerant man, close to fifty. He used to be quite an armsman and won the King's Tournament Championship three years in a row about a decade back. He fancies himself quite a lady's man as well." Balthus snorted. "Claimed he knocked off more virgins than he did men on luseback. He sets a good table, though, and is very loyal to the Crown. All in all, I'd say he is a wonderful Duke, and I don't like him at all."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. We get along fine. We never had words the few times we met, but there is something about him that I just don't like. I couldn't tell you what it was if hot coals were poured in my pants." Balthus shrugged. "Sometimes people just hit me that way."

Bo nodded. "It's still that way where we're from. Sometimes it is hard to overcome that first impression – especially when people in the Alliance have such different appearances."

"Different how?" asked Balthus.

"Well, due to gravitational and, um, ah, let's just say that some are very squat and compact and some are very tall and thin. People have different colors due to their diet and the air they breathe."

"We have people of different colors here on Ravar also."

Bo smiled. "I bet the colors don't range from orange to green to blue, as well as the white, brown and yellow shades."

Balthus looked at him to see if he was pulling his leg.

"Truly," said Bo.

Balthus shook his head. "Ah... That must be something to see." He glanced at Bo. "But you say they are all human?"

"Yes, they have different outsides, but the insides and blood are pretty much all the same."

Balthus nodded and smiled. "It's as I thought."

"What is?"

"Well, what it comes down to, is, everyone's life is the same. King, beggar, people on different worlds, and certainly mine. We come into this world, take that first breath of life, then continue until we release that last breath. Anything we do up to then should be enjoyed to the fullest. If more folks would realize that plain truth, there would be fewer problems in this, or any world."

Bo digested this for a while and then smiled. "Balthus, you are definitely a unique character."

"He's a character all right," called Adrianna from the front.

"Hey! I'm sure you mean sterling character." Balthus smiled. "Enough of this dillydallying. Let's make some time." With that, he spurred his luse to a gallop and the rest of the group followed suit.

They traveled along the King's road to the inn Balthus had mentioned, arriving well before dusk. As the group reined in at the stable, a girl of about ten with a very pronounced black eye rushed out of the door.

"Good day to you, Sirs and Madams. Welcome to The Fat Boar Inn."

"Well, thank you for your kind welcome," said Balthus as he dismounted. "You shouldn't welcome fists to your eye as quickly though."

"That was Bil Danos. He's a jerk and I gave him one right back, too!"

"Good for you, Lass. Are you all alone here?"

"Yes, Sir. I sleep in the loft. Sometimes Bil helps me but he's usually never around."

Balthus turned to Adrianna. "Go get us settled in and I'll help – what's your name, Lass?"

"Selona, Sir."

"And I'll help Selona with the luses." Adrianna nodded and walked to the inn, followed by Rory and Janelle.

"I'll help too," said Bo.

"Sirs, you don't need to help. I can do it myself. I've been doing it forever!"

"She's too little to be taking care of these big animals," said Bo.

"She's been around them her whole life, but..." Balthus glanced at the little girl as he unsaddled the pack animals. "Selona, have you ever ridden a luse?"

She shook her head, hair whipping her face like a luse tail. "No, Sir. I'd like to try, but the master doesn't own any and I would never ride a customer's luse."

"As I thought," muttered Balthus. "Bo, leave off when you finish Rory and Janelle's mounts. I'll attend to mine and Adrianna's."

Bo pushed open the inn door. It was a cheery place with whitewashed walls and ceiling, reflecting the light from three hanging, clear-oil chandeliers. The polished floors and simple wooden furniture gave the room a homey feel. The main hearth held a spitted roasting boar and Bo's mouth watered at the aroma. He smiled. The uncluttered life he'd been living on Ravar was giving him a better appreciation for the simple things. He grinned as he realized he was thinking like Balthus.

Rory was the only patron in the common room and sat with a mug of ale in his fist. He gestured to Bo and filled another mug. Rory handed Bo his drink and they clinked mugs.

"Eternal Vigilance," said Bo, sitting down.

"Eternal Vigilance," responded Rory, taking a sip. "Where's the big guy?"

"He's finishing up with the luses. You'd better pour two more," said Bo as Janelle and Adrianna came down the stairs. Rory obliged and the women joined them.

The innkeeper hurried to their table, wiping his hands on a towel. "Sorry folks, but dinner won't be ready for another half hour at the least. Can I get you something else in the meantime?"

"Well, if you're going to make us wait," said Adrianna, "I guess we'll have to see if we can drain your inn of ale." She handed him the empty pitcher.

The innkeeper smiled. "You're welcome to try, my lady, but we are well stocked. I will keep the pitcher full though, if you'd like to have a go." He hurried off to fetch another round.

"Where's Balthus?" asked Adrianna.

"He's taking care of the luses," said Bo.

Adrianna looked toward the door. "He's certainly taking his time about it."

"Don't hurry him," said Bo. "We rarely get to talk to you alone."

"Yeah," said Rory, then grinned. "When Balthus is here, you never get a word in edgewise."

Adrianna took a long drink, then smiled. "Well, he does that because he knows that I'd rather listen than talk. I was pretty shy as a child and some of that still remains."

"Were you born around here?" asked Bo.

"No. I was born north of here, at the foot of the Ligour Teeth Mountains. My parents were netweed farmers."

"Do you get to visit home much in your far-flung travels?" asked Janelle.

Adrianna stared into her mug. "No. Actually my parents died in a fire when I was six. I lived with my grandmother until I was ten, then she died."

"I'm sorry, Adrianna," said Janelle and placed a hand over Adrianna's. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"That's all right. The memories have so faded they don't bother me much anymore," she said, forcing a smile.

"What did you do after your grandmother died?" asked Bo.

"Well, I begged or stole food. I did small jobs around different villages until I met Balthus."

"You've been on your own since you were ten?" asked Rory.

Adrianna nodded.

Bo raised his mug and toasted her. "No wonder you have such strength." Muttered agreement flowed around the table.

Adrianna blushed. "I'd better go see what's keeping Balthus. It's not like him to miss his drinking time."

Bo raised his mug again, as did the others. Adrianna hurriedly stood and made her way to the door. She missed seeing the grins on their faces.

Adrianna walked out the door just as Balthus and Selona trotted into the courtyard. Selona, riding Adrianna's mount and beaming a gigantic smile, waved as she reined in at the stables. Adrianna joined Balthus as he dismounted. "Couldn't get enough of riding, eh?"

Balthus grinned and helped Selona dismount from Adrianna's luse. Selona jumped down, then continued to jump up and down.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried over and over. She clasped her hands together and continued to jump up and down.

Balthus smiled and put his hand on her shoulder to stop her from jumping, then knelt to be at her level. "I'm glad you enjoyed the ride. You learned very quickly." She lunged at Balthus and hugged him around the neck. Balthus was taken aback at first, then returned her hug. Reaching into his purse, he handed her five coppers.

"Give all of them some groats. I know they'll be in good hands with Selona caring for them." He rose, placed his arm around Adrianna and walked to the inn, leaving behind a grinning little girl.

"Making new friends, I see," said Adrianna.

"I think I got more out of it than she did."

Adrianna glanced back at the still beaming child. "I'm not too sure about that."

They finished a dinner of roasted boar, tubers, leens and many mugs of ale. All of the other patrons had either gone to bed or left for home.

"You know, it will seem awfully boring around here with the three of you gone," said Balthus, refilling his mug once again.

"I'm sure the Dieya will keep you occupied in one way or another," replied Janelle. "Speaking of the Dieya, can you tell us anything about him, I mean, now that you know he isn't from around here?"

"I could tell you some stories that sound more like tall tales than truth," said Balthus. "Stories of the Black Sorcerer have been told around campfires for generations." He paused and stared off into the distance, his face taking on a puzzled expression. "Say, how is that possible if Dieya is human like the rest of us? Are you incredibly long lived?"

"No," said Bo. "The Dieya Corps sends their people on ships that travel faster than light. It causes a time displacement that, ah, well ah..."

Balthus stared at him.

"There he goes again," said Rory.

"Let me try it, Bo," said Janelle. "The Dieyas live on a ship that travels very fast. It travels so fast that time actually slows down. What is months to them is actually years to you."

Balthus sat there with a perplexed yet amused smile on his face. "You mean a ship can travel so fast that it can outrun time?"

"Yes, I guess that's one way of looking at it," replied Janelle.

"You people do live in a confusing, strange world... and it sounds interesting as hell." Balthus closed his eyes. "So many incredible things..." He opened his eyes and looked at Janelle. "But you were asking what we knew about Dieya. Well... He is a loyal supporter of the Kingdom. In my father's youth, he played a large part in the 'Dark Wars,' as the war with the Torbu is called. Evidently, without his aid the whole area would have been overrun by the blue bastards." He took a long swig from his mug. "Lady Janelle, I feel you are looking for something more on a personal note than old tales," he said with a wink. Balthus knew he was right when a blush crept up her neck.

He grinned and continued. "We spent little time with Blackie, but found that under his focused layer he has a wry sense of humor and would be a good companion on a long trek – if you could get him past his single-minded hostility to the Kraken." Balthus gazed into his mug. "I remember when he dispatched the Krill. There was murder and hatred in his eyes, I tell you that." He took a long drink and emptied his mug before continuing. "He's one you'd not want as an enemy and it could be difficult to be around someone that singularly focused." Balthus snapped his fingers. "Oh! That reminds me. I know something I wanted to ask you. Do you folks have sex and babies the way we do here?"

The trio smiled at the question. "Yes Balthus," said Janelle. "Technology hasn't improved on that too much yet."

"Were you worried?" asked Rory.

"No, it's just something that Dieya said once when I mentioned his mother. He said he never had a mother." Balthus laid a finger alongside his temple. "And as I remember, the Arvari call him 'Laere-Tere' in their language, meaning 'man not born of woman.' I wondered where that came from." He grabbed the pitcher to refill his mug and realized the trio was staring at one another.

"Could the Dieya be a Cantarion?" asked Bo.

"It certainly would explain his hatred," answered Rory, attempting to pry the ale pitcher from Balthus' hand.

"All right," said Balthus, relinquishing his grip. "You have knocked hard on my curiosity bone and I want to know what you are talking about." The trio glanced at each other for a moment then the men's gazes fell toward Janelle.

"All right, I'll take a crack at it," she said. "Back before we had the dim gateways, humans emigrated to the stars on ships. One such group of colonists found and settled a planet called Cantar. It seemed like an ideal world for a while until none of their women became pregnant. The doctors found that there was a rare element in the atmosphere that caused infertility in women. The only way they could increase the population was by growing the baby in a sealed environment instead of in the mother. The donors would supply the necessary components and the doctors would grow the infant in a glass-like container."

Balthus and Adrianna exchanged looks.

"I know this sounds strange," said Janelle, "but believe me it's true. Anyway, human infants are born small and undeveloped because they need to pass through the pelvis of the mother. This leaves the mother spending a lot of time doing childcare, and on Cantar, they needed that time for building their colony.

The colonists found that if they let the infant grow for twelve months instead of the usual nine, the mortality rate was very low, the children learned more quickly and were much brighter than the average human. They raised their children in a crèche, with the whole community taking turns as teachers. Their entire culture formed that way due to a simple element in the atmosphere."

Balthus held his mug out to Rory. "Fill it to the top, my friend. It's going to take a lot of ale to get that tale down." Rory obliged and Balthus took a big swallow. "I imagine that ended any taboos on sex then? No daughter sent to live with an aunt for nine months or so? No socially outcast unwed mothers? No child born with the stigma of bastard? Sounds like some of it might be a good idea."

"Yes, Cantarions were known to be emotionally well-balanced."

Balthus paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. "Were?"

Rory nodded. "The Kraken found the planet several decades ago. They pounded it until there was nothing left but molten rock."

Balthus slammed his mug back on the table and stared. "I can see where Dieya's hatred comes from, and I can't say as I blame him." He nodded. "That would account for his dedication." He pushed his mug away. "You know, I'm beginning to dislike these Kraken the more I hear about them." There were nods around the table.

"Well this party certainly has gotten sour!" said Adrianna.

"You're right, Lass," said Balthus. "I ask what seems to be a simple question and things get buggered up. Excuse me, all." He lowered his head for a moment, then raised it and smiled. "I would like to make amends. I see that our fine innkeeper has a lute in the corner. I suggest I sing and play a few happy tunes to put us all back in good humor."

The sound of scraping chairs filled the room as everyone rose but Balthus.

"That's all right, I'm a little tired..."

"...It's been a long day..."

"...Early start tomorrow..."

They all burst into laughter at Balthus' crestfallen face.

"See Balthus, you cheered us up without having to sing," said Bo.

"It cheers me to think of him not singing," said Rory.

Adrianna stood behind Balthus, then leaned down and put her arms around his neck as the trio walked toward the stairs and the safety of their rooms.

"But I'm not tired yet," muttered Balthus as he played with his mug.

Adrianna whispered in his ear. "I bet I can make you tired..."

Rising quickly, Balthus bounded up the stairs and bypassed the trio. He looked back at Adrianna. "Well? What's keeping you?"

The rest of the trip to Brightmoor Castle was uneventful with one exception. Adrianna awoke at dawn the first morning on the road and found Balthus gone from his bedroll. She dozed until she realized he had been gone too long to be on a simple call of nature. Rising quietly, she saw Bo and Rory still sleeping, but Janelle's bedroll empty. She heard a slight noise some distance away and walked toward the sound.

In a nearby meadow, Adrianna saw Balthus and Janelle facing each other in the middle of the field, quietly talking. Suddenly, Balthus lunged at Janelle's throat only to be flung violently over her shoulder. He smashed hard onto the ground.

Janelle leaned over and helped Balthus up. They resumed the same pose, but this time Balthus' lunge was in slow motion as was Janelle's response. At one point, Janelle stopped her actions to demonstrate a handgrip. Facing each other once more, Balthus lunged at her throat and once more he went flying through the air.

Adrianna winced hearing the thud. She had wondered how long it would take Balthus to ask Janelle about the fighting style she'd used on Oldwick. When it came to any new martial art or weapon, Balthus had to be at the forefront. She winced as Balthus again hit the ground hard.

She returned to the campsite to prepare breakfast. She had a feeling Balthus wouldn't be up for it.

CHAPTER 56

The sun-filled day grew warmer as Balthus, Adrianna and their charges rode down the cobblestone road toward Brightmoor Castle. It was late morning and traffic was sparse. The sprawling citadel sat atop a hill, its blue and white pennants rippling slowly over towers of gleaming white stones. With the castle in sight and their journey coming to an end, they slowed their pace.

"We have been very lucky this trip," said Balthus. "We've had only a few mild showers these last two weeks. I'm glad we didn't have to make the trip during the fall rains. Traveling in bad weather is hell."

Rory gave him a knowing nod.

Janelle spurred her luse ahead of everyone, then reined up and faced the group. "Balthus and Adrianna," began Janelle, "I would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your help, guidance and friendship. It has been a memorable experience riding with the two of you."

"Same goes for me, guys. Thanks," said Bo.

"Yeah," said Rory.

"It has been our pleasure," said Balthus with a bow. He felt almost embarrassed by the sentiment. "But our time together is not yet over. I doubt if Dieya is in the castle. He never seems to stay in one place for very long. There's no telling how long we might have to wait for him."

"He gave us the means to signal him when we arrive," said Janelle.

"Will he be able to see it if he is not close?"

"He will know even if he is a world away," she answered.

Balthus shook his head. He felt like he had been doing a lot of that lately. "Let's not dwell on things yet to come, and enjoy what is now."

"A fine thought for any time," said Adrianna, putting spurs to her luse.

They followed her to the main gates.

Duke Astard stared at the Shallcross board and puzzled over his councilor's last move. Was this an all-out attack or a feint? He thought the councilor had the pieces and position to win if played boldly, but it wasn't in the man's character. He studied his opponent's face but found no information there. He'd play it as a feint then, with the attack coming from the left.

The Duke became aware that a page had entered the room and stood awaiting his attention. "Yes, what is it?"

"Your Lordship, Sir Balthus of Steradam, his Lady Adrianna and a party of three have arrived and would like to pay their respects to his Lordship."

"Balthus of Steradam, Balthus of Steradam..." repeated the Duke, searching his memory. "Oh yes, I remember him now. Did they state their purpose?"

"Sir Balthus said they came at a summons from Dieya the Sorcerer."

The Duke straightened in his chair. "Well! This should enliven a day that is teetering on boredom. Show them into the antechamber and bring them wine." He turned to his councilor. "Save the game if you would, Crestfield. It might be interesting to finish this one."

The elderly councilor nodded. "What does your Lordship know about Sir Balthus? Is he a friend to your court? I must admit I have never heard of him."

The Duke laughed. "I doubt you would have, unless it involved some tale of bad manners. Sir Balthus is not a man who takes rank seriously."

The councilor tilted back his balding head, looked down his narrow nose, and sniffed.

The Duke continued. "Sir Balthus is a man loyal to the King and a well-known warrior. We have met only a few times. He has never offended me nor given me the slightest reason to dislike him, yet I do."

"Shall I place a guard on him, your Lordship?"

"No, he is not a dishonorable man, just one to be wary of. I will give him the benefit of the doubt. Let us dine with Sir Balthus and his friends and see what comes of it."

"The main dining hall, Sire?"

The Duke thought for a moment. "Nooo, let's play on his dislike of rank and show. Serve dinner in the private dining room." The councilor bowed then signaled to the servants.

Balthus, Adrianna and the trio sat in a small room, awaiting the Duke's pleasure.

"Here we are, safe and sound at Brightmoor Castle. I suggest you signal Dieya while we have some privacy," said Balthus. "Is it some ritual or are any special items needed?"

Janelle reached into her pouch and pulled out Dieya's small jewel. "No, all it takes is this." She squeezed the jewel once and felt a slight click. She placed it back in her pouch and stood, stretching her back.

"That is it? No fanfare or bright lights?" Balthus looked disappointed.

"Sorry, Balthus. But I could sing and dance if you'd like."

The clever reply died on his lips as a page appeared at the doorway.

"The Duke has requested you dine with him. If you will follow me, I will show you to your rooms where you can freshen up. Dinner will be served in two hours."

They followed the page to the upper chambers, where steaming baths awaited them.

Janelle, Rory and Bo were each given a separate room, bath and servant. Balthus and Adrianna were afforded a suite and two servants. Fresh blue tunics, with the Duke's seal on the right shoulder, lay on their beds.

Balthus dismissed the servants and closed the door. "I can't say I fault the man's hospitality."

"Remember that when he starts to grate on your nerves," suggested Adrianna.

"Me? I am the soul of propriety." He gestured at the tunic. "But I'll not don his baldric like one of his lackeys."

"No one's asking you to. I have your dark green tunic with us. You can wear that." She squeezed his shoulder. "And calm down, you're fidgeting."

Balthus sat on the bed and sighed. "You're right, Dear. I don't know why this man makes me so jumpy."

"You haven't even seen him yet. Relax and take a bath."

Balthus undressed and tried to analyze his feelings. He had a knack of knowing when danger threatened but this was not one of those times. He put it down to an unknown factor and forced it out of his mind.

The hot bath, short nap and a few glasses of wine restored Balthus' good mood and bolstered his willingness to allow the Duke some leniency. At a knock, Balthus walked to the door and waited with his hand on the knob. He glanced at Adrianna. She finished tying the last strap of her gold embroidered green tunic and stood with arms wide, ready for inspection. Balthus smiled, nodded, then opened the door. Rory, Janelle and Bo entered and Balthus closed the door behind them.

"Pretty nice rooms and service for passing travelers," said Bo. "I had to toss a serving girl out of my room. She wanted to wash me," he said with a grin. "I hope I offered no insult."

Rory smiled. "I doubt it. She came to my room next, offering to help my serving girl with the task of bathing me. Not wanting to offer insult, of course I agreed."

Bo shook his head. "You sly old dog, you." He looked back to Balthus. "I dressed in my best clothes and left armor, helm and sword in my room. I don't know the proper protocol for dining with a Duke. Let us know if we should be wearing those blue over-shirt things we found in our rooms and if we should wear our weapons.

"No, you did just right," said Balthus. "Only a knight is allowed to wear his sword in the Duke's court. And I wouldn't wear his colors unless I was naked in front of the King."

"And probably not then," added Adrianna.

"Do you have any tips as to how to address him or how we should play this?" asked Janelle.

Balthus nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "The Duke should be called 'your Lordship' when addressed." Balthus thought for a moment and stroked his beard. "I think we would be safer just telling him we met Dieya in Freetown and that he asked us to join him here. If he thinks our mission has not yet begun, rather than just finished, it will make him less curious."

Everyone agreed on the strategy.

"What can you tell us of the Duke?" asked Janelle.

Balthus sat on the bed. "Well, his wife died bearing him a son over a decade ago. The Duke never remarried, saying he preferred to remain loyal to her memory." Balthus snorted. "I wonder what part of her memory the Duke honors, for rumors are that he rarely sleeps alone."

Balthus stood at a knock on the door. A young page entered and announced that dinner was served. They followed the page past the high arched main audience chamber to a smaller, intimate family dining room, resplendent with exquisite wall coverings. Balthus hid his surprise.

Duke Astard was standing in front of the table, feet apart and hands clasped behind his back. Impeccably dressed, he wore a white silk shirt with the puffy sleeves that were currently the fashion. Covering the shirt was a light-blue silk tunic, edged in gold and embroidered with his family seal – a wreath of gold leaves. He was a striking figure of a man with long salt and pepper hair and a wiry swordsman's body. Many women might refer to the duke's dark eyes as bedroom eyes, but Balthus found their half-lidded appearance reminded him of a serpent.

"Sir Balthus, Lady Adrianna. Welcome to Castle Brightmoor." He bowed low in front of the group. "I hope you have had a pleasant stay so far and that my humble home has satisfied your needs."

Balthus bowed just as low. "Your hospitality has been second only to the King's, your Lordship. Please let me introduce our traveling companions," he said, waving a hand in their direction. "This is Rory, Bo, and Janelle of Freetown."

The Duke bowed again, as did the trio. The Duke gazed at Janelle and his eyes narrowed. Balthus recognized the motion as that of a viper that has just sensed prey. The Duke approached Janelle and reached for her hand.

"Please, let us be seated and you can tell me of your travels." He led Janelle around the table and seated her to his right. Balthus and Adrianna sat across from them with Bo joining the Duke on his left and Rory next to Balthus. The Duke signaled and the servants laid out a course of stuffed roast fowl with a fruit sauce.

"I understood you were summoned here by Dieya the Sorcerer," the Duke said, as he filled everyone's wineglass from his own hand.

The personal touch was not lost on Balthus. The Duke was a skilled opponent – he would have to be careful. "Yes, he met us in Freetown and asked us to journey here to await his pleasure. I imagine he has some task or other for us."

"Dieya the Sorcerer," said the Duke, and gazed into the distance for a moment. "It is hard to believe he will be coming here. I had forgotten his existence until I received a message that told of his visit to the King a week past." He leaned toward Janelle and smiled. "Do you have some special talent that he can utilize?"

"No, your Lordship. We've only met him once." She broke away from his hypnotic gaze and studied her plate.

"A beautiful lady such as yourself has many talents, I'm sure."

Balthus let out a deep sigh which halted in mid-stream when Adrianna's boot crushed his instep.

"The Sorcerer has always been somewhat of a mystery to me," the Duke continued. "There is a room off the main audience chamber called 'The Sorcerer's Chamber' which has been so named for generations. As a young boy it was the focus of many of my fantasies. Imagine, a locked room with no doorknob or handle. A door that can only be opened from the inside. Ah, I must admit I tried to open that door many times. The wonders that must be behind it filled my imagination." He stabbed a piece of fowl with his knife. "Think of my surprise one day when the door opened and the Sorcerer himself stepped out. Think of my disappointment as I peered in and saw a very tiny and completely empty room. It served to break some of my illusions and I began to focus on my studies, as a young boy should."

"Speaking of boys – how is your son, your Lordship? I had hoped to meet him," said Balthus.

"Ah, Roderick has left for the Palace where he will take on the responsibilities of the King's Squire."

Balthus raised his glass. "Congratulations! What a great honor."

"Yes, we were very pleased by the King's offer. It is good for young men to see as much of the workings of the world as possible before taking on the larger responsibilities of ruling." He refilled Janelle's glass and bid her try the silby paté.

"How is the harvest coming?" asked Balthus, trying once again to distract him from Janelle. "Your province is responsible for feeding most of the kingdom. I hope all is well."

The Duke's eyes left Janelle. "Yes, it seems this will be another banner year for grain. The King is correct in trying to open trade routes with Javan. If he succeeds, I believe a new era of commerce will enrich the kingdom and make it a power to be reckoned with."

The dinner continued with small talk about the workings of the kingdom. Janelle seemed fascinated by the Duke's every word. She asked so many questions about the intricacies of ruling, farming, and commerce that Balthus wondered what she was doing. When he gave Rory a questioning look, he whispered to Balthus that she was an intelligence officer and just doing her job. Rory didn't mention the paper that she wanted to write when she returned to their world.

When dinner ended, the Duke stood. "Please, my friends, join me in the library for brandy and sweetmeats." As they rose, he placed his arm through Janelle's and escorted them down the hall.

Janelle let out a gasp as she entered the room. The Duke's library was one of the finest in Ravar. At the center of the octagonal room, a spiral staircase led up to a parapet surrounding a second level. A domed ceiling, filled with windows, let in light throughout the day. The south wall was a mass of glass from floor to ceiling and an ornate fireplace was built into the north wall. Books of all sizes, ages and types filled every shelf on both levels. A rolling ladder, several desks and comfy reading chairs were the only furniture.

"This is fantastic!" said Janelle gazing at the books.

"I'm pleased you like it," said the Duke. He walked to a roll-top desk that held several brandy carafes and glasses.

Their interests drew each one of the group. Rory studied the carvings on the spiral staircase. Bo and Adrianna walked to the window to admire the view. Janelle perused the books and Balthus moved toward the brandy.

As the Duke poured, Balthus looked down at the Shallcross board on the desk. "Ah, Shallcross."

"Do you play, Sir Balthus?" asked the Duke, as he handed him a snifter.

Balthus studied the board the Duke and his councilor had left unfinished. "Dark wins in fifteen moves, ten if his luck holds."

The Duke nodded. "So, you'd play it boldly, eh? What about the possibility of Light conceding the field quadrant and withdrawing to the castle?"

"Doesn't matter. If the knights launch from here," he gestured to the board, "they will cut off any retreat."

The Duke surveyed the board and nodded. He then studied Balthus with a gaze that weighed his guest's ability. "Sir Balthus. Would you fancy a game?"

Balthus smiled.

Bo glanced at Balthus and the Duke, as they set up the Shallcross board. "Well," he said to Adrianna, "it looks like we will have to entertain ourselves for a while."

Adrianna watched the two seated men begin their game. "If you want real entertainment, just watch those two try to outdo one another. That will be entertaining enough."

"This is an exquisite set," said Balthus, examining the gold and silver pieces representing light and dark.

"Yes it is. It has been in my family for many generations and only the King, I believe, has a finer set. As it should be," he added.

Shallcross was a game played on a sixteen by thirty-two checkered board. The players represented two kingdoms vying to capture the king. It was the national game played everywhere in the realm. The pieces consisted of a king, chancellor, ministers and several other levels of pieces, each with their own characteristics and movement abilities. Each player took his turn, moving the allotted spaces or trading his move for "rises." Rises were blocks placed under a piece to symbolize a rise in terrain. The higher the terrain, the more pieces, or a higher level piece, were needed to take the square.

"Do you play with the luck rod?" asked the Duke.

Balthus smiled and nodded. "Always."

The luck rod was a sealed hollow glass tube, twelve inches long and two inches across, containing a single ten-sided die. An axle on a frame supported the luck rod vertically at the center. Before the start of each person's turn, the player would rotate the rod. The die would fall, hit the axle and drop to the base. Each player counted his points and when twenty or more were reached, he received an extra turn and restarted his count. This was the "luck" factor.

The Duke took the king of each side and held them behind his back.

"Right or left?"

"Left," answered Balthus and the Duke handed him the piece in his left hand, which turned out to be the silver, or light. Balthus would move first.

As interest in the game grew, Adrianna pulled the trio aside and explained the general rules.

"Sounds interesting," said Rory, and Bo agreed. They moved to get a closer view.

Adrianna looked at Janelle who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Adrianna smiled. "This is definitely a man's game. I know of no woman for whom it holds the slightest bit of appeal." They looked back to the men seated around the desk, totally absorbed in the game.

"I find it interesting that this type of board game exists on almost all worlds in the Alliance," said Janelle "and it is universally found boring by most women." She and Adrianna shared a grin.

"This library, though," said Janelle as she looked around. "I could spend a year here reading everything."

"You can read?" asked Adrianna.

Janelle started to speak, then stopped. "I don't know. Let me try." She took down a book at random and opened a page, spending a moment looking at the words. She glanced at Adrianna and nodded, her eyes going back to the book. "It's a little difficult because the visual construct is different than the spoken word," said Janelle.

Adrianna stared at her. "How is that possible? I mean, now that I think about it, how did you learn our language and written word if you've never been here before?"

Janelle pulled Adrianna away from the game to the overstuffed leather chairs by the window and they sat down.

Janelle sat quietly, collecting her thoughts for a moment. "The brain," she began, "is made up of several sections. Some function to interpret what is going on and to direct movement. Others are made up of tiny pieces that hold information, such as words. When we learn a word it gets stored in one of these pieces."

She looked at Adrianna for understanding and Adrianna nodded. "We have discovered how to put words into an empty piece through the use of a helmet-like device. The words are stored very quickly and their meaning connected to the language you already know. For instance, I speak in your language, but I still think in my own."

Adrianna sat back and pondered this new information. "How long did it take to learn our language?"

"Well, we received only a very basic vocabulary. That takes ten minutes."

Adrianna sat stunned. "You learned to speak and read our language in ten minutes?"

Janelle nodded.

Adrianna stared out the window, lost in her thoughts. Ten minutes. So much to learn and an easy way to do it. She leaned forward and placed a hand on Janelle's arm. "Can you use this device to teach children to read and write?"

"No, not effectively," said Janelle. "First, the person must have already developed what meaning to associate with the words. A child doesn't have that yet."

"How about learning new things, not just new languages. Can your machine teach someone about, oh, say your dimgates?"

"Somewhat. Machines can aid in learning, but the basic concepts have to be already established in the brain for it to work effectively."

Adrianna sat back and stared out at the view. "You certainly have an incredible world out there." She looked back to Janelle. "But tell me, are you happy? Do these things bring happiness to your people? Do they feel contentment?"

Janelle smiled and also sat back. She tented her fingers. "You would think, with all our incredible devices, that people would be happy." She shrugged. "It does make people more comfortable and they no longer need to worry simply about survival. But after being here for a short while, I feel that all it has done is to free people to wonder why they are not fulfilled."

They stared out the window, alone with their thoughts.

The Shallcross game was well into its second hour and a clear winner could not be determined. Adrianna watched the Duke and Balthus. There was strain on their faces and a sheen of perspiration on the Duke's. Balthus looked as though he'd been in combat for hours.

Suddenly, it was over. The Duke placed his king on Balthus' side of the board, signaling that he conceded. Balthus let out a large sigh and wiped his forehead with his hand. The Duke continued to study the board as Balthus pushed back from the desk.

"You, your Lordship, are the most devious, cunning, insidious, shrewd, underhanded, sly..." he held out his hands, at a loss for any more negative adjectives. The Duke looked up. "...and you are the finest Shallcross player I have ever come across." With that, Balthus stood and bowed low to the Duke. The Duke sighed, sat back in his chair and shook a finger at Balthus.

"If your luck with the rod hadn't been so good I would have beaten you!"

"Yes, without doubt. That's why I always count on my luck," said Balthus.

The Duke rose to his feet, and looked down at the board once more. "They say a person is better off lucky than skilled and I think you proved that." He offered his hand across the table to Balthus. Balthus shook hands, hand to wrist, as he would with any other warrior he felt was an equal.

Adrianna was glad to see that they had reached some understanding between them. She thought that Balthus' aversion to the Duke was because they were so alike – but she would never tell him that.

The two men became aware of their surroundings for the first time in hours.

"My goodness," said the Duke, "it's almost dusk!"

"I hope we didn't keep you from any important business," said Balthus.

The Duke smiled. "Nothing was more important today than that game." He came around the desk and placed a hand on Balthus' shoulder. "But come, we must toast the inventor of Shallcross with some honeyed mead that I have been saving for just such an occasion." He led Balthus off to the wine cellar and they began to discuss each move in depth. Bo and Rory followed. The women looked at each other.

"Honeyed mead?" asked Adrianna.

"I'm not sure what it is, but I'll pass. Do you think it will be all right for me to roam the library some more?"

"Yes, I am sure the Duke would like that. He seems to be a bit smitten with you."

"Humph, smitten is a kind word. That man just wants to bed me and chalk up another mark on his conquest sheet. I've met his kind before and I know how to handle them."

"That's very perceptive of you. The game between men and women doesn't change much, I take it."

"Well, as you may have heard Bo mention earlier, there are many different cultures that have a variety of attitudes toward sex. My home planet's culture isn't prudish, but isn't promiscuous either. We believe that taking it slowly makes for longer, better relationships."

"Well, you have a good time in the library. I think I will catch a nap before supper," said Adrianna. She turned and left the room.

Supper conversation consisted mostly of Balthus' and the Duke's re-telling of the Shallcross game and critical points of games they had played in the past. Night arrived and the servants lit large candelabras and placed them on the table while others removed the remains of the roast boar. The Duke lifted his glass in a toast.

"My friends, thank you for joining me today. It has been a rare treat for me and I hope one for you as well."

"Thank you for letting me browse through your library, your Lordship. It is absolutely fabulous," said Janelle.

The Duke regarded her over his wine glass. "I have several volumes, dating back before Justin the First, which tell of the times before his rule." He leaned toward her. "I wonder if you'd be interested in seeing them," he said with narrowed eyelids and a voice that almost purred.

"Yes, I would," said Janelle as she stood.

The Duke glanced around the table. "Anyone else care to see an original volume of the history of Ravar by Edcupian?"

"No thank you, your Lordship," said Balthus. "Lady Adrianna and I would like to retire if you don't mind. It has been a long trip."

"Yes, and that soft bed upstairs is calling to me," said Bo. "Thank you, your Lordship, for your hospitality." He stood and bowed.

"Yes, me as well. Thank you, your Lordship," echoed Rory.

"Well then, I hope you all enjoy a good night. I will see you at breakfast."

Balthus took Adrianna's arm and the Duke took Janelle's. Balthus leaned toward Adrianna as they went up the stairs. "I hope Janelle knows what she is getting into."

"She's a big girl and can take care of herself. Besides, remember what happened to Oldwick."

Balthus grinned.

"These are some of the oldest tomes in the kingdom," said the Duke, lighting several candles. He had removed the books from a locked drawer and stacked them on a desk. Janelle sat and carefully examined the tomes, looking for any mention of legends or the Dieya. As she rose to change books, the Duke circled her waist from behind and kissed the back of her neck.

She turned and put a hand on his chest. "I think you should remove your hands, your Lordship."

The Duke only held her tighter. "Janelle, my dearest. You can't tell me you don't feel this hot flame between us. I have felt it growing all evening. Please, stay with me tonight. When I look in your eyes they are like twin pools of..." He looked at her eyes and couldn't decide which one to focus on. The left one seemed to be looking over his shoulder. Odd, he hadn't noticed that at dinner. What was this? He never noticed she had a wart on her chin, either! Upon closer examination, he saw hair protruding from her ears. The Duke released Janelle and stepped back, gazing at her face. A face that grew more homely as the seconds ticked by. He wondered if he had had too much wine. Could his eye for the female form be failing?

He took another step backwards. "You are right. I acted the cad. Please forgive me," he said with a bow. "Good night." He tore his glance away from her seemingly uglier-by-the-moment face and bolted from the room.

A stunned Janelle leaned on the desk. "What was that all about?" she said.

A chuckle sounded from the far corner of the room.

Janelle looked, but saw no one. "Is someone there?"

The chuckle began again at the center of the room and a waver of light suddenly coalesced into Dieya. Laughing as walked toward her, he threw back his hood. "I hope I didn't interrupt something between you and the Duke. I must say, I couldn't resist."

"Dieya!" said Janelle, with a huge grin. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you as well, Commlead. I feel I must apologize for my rude behavior at our first meeting. I sometimes forget social amenities."

He looked so pained that Janelle could do no less than forgive him. She took his hand in hers. "No need to apologize. I understand, but please, call me Janelle. I'm not ready to go back to being a Commlead just yet."

Hands still clasped, she led him toward the windows. "What did you do to the Duke? He looked at me as if he'd seen a ghost."

Dieya smiled and squeezed her hand. "Oh, I just overlaid your face with a hologram and started morphing your features a bit. Again, I hope I wasn't interfering."

"No, you did me a favor," she said, laughing. "The Duke has been very hospitable and I would hate to thank him by knocking him on his ass."

Dieya turned to look out the window and up at the stars. "I trust you all made it safe and sound?"

"Yes, you could not have found better guides than Balthus and Adrianna."

"Good." He led her to a stuffed chair then sat in the opposite one. "Tell me of your journey. Please, leave nothing out." He settled in and crossed his long legs.

Janelle told her tale, leaving out their revelations about their worlds.

"You know, Dieya, it seems strange to be sitting here in a candle-lit castle library, looking out at the stars and talking like we were old friends. It feels very strange, but very comfortable." She looked into his eyes.

Dieya stared for a moment, then glanced out at the stars. Inhaling deeply, he let his breath out slowly, then looked back to Janelle and nodded. "Yes, it does. I sometimes get so caught up in what I must accomplish that I forget to enjoy life."

"You should hang around Balthus and Adrianna more. If you forget to enjoy the moment, those two will remind you – and quickly. You know, Dieya..." she stopped and looked at him. "Do you have a first name? I'd like to drop rank for the rest of the evening and talk person to person, if that's all right with you." She studied his face but couldn't read his expression. "I'm sorry if I'm too forward. I guess it's from being around Balthus and Adrianna so much."

"Ah, yes. Balthus and Adrianna. How much did they wheedle, cajole or trick you into revealing?"

Janelle smiled, but felt as if she should defend her friends. "I believe you are doing them a disservice. They have put together a lot of what's going on here."

"Jamis."

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Jamis. My name is Jamis. Jamis Hadrian."

Janelle pulled her feet cross-legged into her chair and smiled. "Hi Jamis, nice to meet you."

She thought for a moment, then continued. "They tricked us several times, but it only reinforced the ideas they already had. Adrianna said she felt upon first meeting you that you didn't belong on this world."

"That's the sorcerer image."

"No, it's more than that. They are both very perceptive and Balthus' imagination knows no bounds."

Dieya laughed.

"From your battle with the Krill and the few bits of information they pulled out of us, they know that it's not magic that powers your weapons, just 'better tools' as Balthus said one time. Balthus can put seemingly unrelated pieces of information together and come up with a correct answer. For example, he told us you were probably a Cantarian."

Dieya's head jerked, a stunned expression flooding his face. "What! How is that possible?"

"Is it true?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well, he didn't actually say you were a Cantarian, but he mentioned your not having a mother and the Arvari calling you 'Lartese-something-or-other' – man not born of woman. We figured out the rest on our own."

Dieya relaxed. "It seems that they aren't the only ones who are perceptive," he said with a disarming smile.

Janelle felt his charm wash over her. Charm that couldn't disguise the fact that he was a very lonely man. She guessed he was right – she was perceptive.

"How goes the war?" she asked.

"I just checked in with HQ less than an hour ago. There is a big battle raging at Concordia III. It seems a large flotilla of Kraken ships attacked that system several days ago. Luckily, the second Grenoble Armada was nearby and we caught them between the planetary guns and the Armada. There are a lot less Kraken than there were last week."

Janelle nodded. "Good. How about here on Ravar?"

Dieya grunted. "That is another story. It bothers me greatly that they arrived here without our detection. If they have developed a way to blind our sensors we are in big trouble. They are making another concentrated effort in the east as well." He filled her in on everything that had happened since he last saw her.

Janelle realized he needed to talk to someone and she became his sounding board, asking pointed questions, bringing up possibilities he hadn't thought of and, basically, just listening.

The night grew late and the conversation changed from the war to each other. In the darkened room as the candles guttered and starlight filtered in, it was easy to share hopes and dreams, ideas and aspirations with one another. Janelle became aware that this experience had changed her somehow. Dieya wasn't the only one who lived a lonely life, she realized. Being removed from her technological world had served to refocus her attention on simpler things, the most important of which was being alive and enjoying each moment. She could recount each day she had been on Ravar and what she had taken from that day. In her other life, weeks and months would pass without having a day she could take to heart. A day to keep.

She discussed this with Dieya – now just a man named Jamis. She helped him realize that his thoughts kept him from enjoying the moment, from having a day to keep.

"You've given me a lot to think about." He smiled. "But I do have one day I can keep," he said, looking deeply in her eyes. "This one."

"It's one I'll keep as well." Janelle smiled, noticing that she could see his face more clearly than before. She glanced out the window to see a lightening of the sky and the fading of the stars. "Oh my! We seem to have talked the night away."

Dieya stood and walked to the window. Janelle joined him. They watched in silence as the cold blue sky changed color to lighter blue with hints of pink.

"Thank you for listening, Janelle. It meant a lot to me." He turned to face her.

"You're welcome," she said. She put her arms around him and hugged him hard. He returned her hug, then placed his cheek on top of her head and sighed. They held each other for quite a while until Dieya straightened and turned back to the sunrise. He kept his arm around her.

"You know, I hate to sound like Balthus," he said, "but I'd sure like to find something to eat."

"Suddenly, I'm ravenous, too," she said. Her eyes brightened. "Let's raid the pantry."

They turned and walked arm in arm out of the library in search of the kitchens.

Balthus awoke and realized he had slept late. Dawn was well past. Sitting up, he found Adrianna already up and almost finished dressing.

"Ohhh, I missed the best part."

"Too bad. That's what you get for sleeping late." She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Get dressed. A servant mentioned that the Sorcerer has been seen in the castle."

Balthus got out of bed and began dressing. "It seems like he got the message. I'd like to know how that works."

"So would I. It's a good thing I can't put it all down to magic and let it go at that. It forces my brain to explore new possibilities."

Balthus agreed. He dressed and as he pulled on his boots he stopped, staring past Adrianna.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well, do you realize this adventure could all be over today? I must admit my mind has enjoyed the stimulation of all these new ideas. It'd be a shame to lose that."

"The trio said that might happen. Don't worry; I'm sure something will come along to interest us. Dieya might have something in mind for us to do."

Balthus nodded and buckled on his sword as they left the room.

The trio was standing next to Dieya as Balthus and Adrianna entered the main hall. Servants walked warily around the group as they went about their morning chores. Dieya the Sorcerer had not been seen in Brightmoor Castle for many years, but his reputation lived on.

"Balthus! Adrianna! Thank you for all your efforts," said Dieya from across the room. He separated himself from the trio and walked toward them, hand outstretched. Balthus shook his hand, as did Adrianna. Dieya placed an arm around each of their shoulders and escorted them back toward the trio.

"I hope it wasn't too arduous on you two," Dieya said, with lowered voice.

"Not at all Dieya, it was a pleasure," said Adrianna.

"Besides," said Balthus, "we learned all about what you are really doing here."

Dieya smiled. "Yes, and I know what you are doing now – fishing."

Balthus leaned forward and spoke to Adrianna. "It's only been a few weeks since we've seen him. You'd have thought I would have remembered how obnoxious he can be."

"I've talked to one of the servants," said Dieya, ignoring the exchange. "The Duke should be down presently and we'll begin breakfast."

"What's next, Dieya? What happens to our charges now?" asked Balthus.

"I have one further task for you to do today and then I will take them off your hands."

The hall doors opened and the Duke entered, followed by his councilor, the captain of his guards, the court physician and their wives.

"It looks as if you will be busy for a while Dieya. We'll talk later," said Balthus. He and Adrianna walked away, leaving Dieya alone in the center of the hall.

"Duke Astard, thank you for your hospitality for myself and my friends," said Dieya, bowing low.

"Our pleasure, Sir Sorcerer," said the Duke. He studied Dieya's face. "It is you!"

"I see you've grown up, your Lordship. Have you lost interest yet in the room you so graciously keep for me?"

The Duke laughed. "Yes – once I found it was empty of magical paraphernalia! Come, let me introduce my court." The Duke made the introductions and his court surrounded Dieya as if he was a celebrity – but one to be wary of.

"You, Sir, must tell me how you do not age. You don't look a day older than I last saw you," said the Duke.

Dieya smiled. "I have aged, your Lordship. This appearance is an illusion. My real appearance is like this – " He touched his forearm and he changed from a man in full flower to a shriveled, aged old man with a few wisps of white hair on an otherwise bald pate. The Duke and his court gasped in astonishment and all took a step backward. Dieya again touched his forearm and the image of the ancient man dissolved to his previous appearance.

"My goodness," said the Duke. "It makes you wonder which is real."

"Perhaps neither of them are," ventured Balthus from across the room.

The Duke shot him a stunned look as that realization struck. He quickly composed himself. "Well, no matter what you look like, I'm sure you need to eat. Please, let us all retire to the main dining hall where breakfast will be served."

As they gravitated toward the door, the Duke stared closely at Janelle. Dieya caught the motion and, smiled.

"When did you arrive, Sir Sorcerer?" asked the Duke.

"It wasn't until late last night."

"You should have aroused someone to announce your arrival. My servants could have shown you to the guest bedroom."

"Well, I did take a turn in your library. That was enough, thank you."

The Duke broke his gaze from Janelle and stared at the sorcerer. "You were in the library last night?" Dieya nodded. The Duke looked once more at Janelle, then back to Dieya and smiled knowingly.

"Ah, that clears up some things. Thank you for telling me." He was about to slap the sorcerer on the back but hesitated in mid-stroke and lowered his arm.

Breakfast was a noisy affair with five different conversations going ten different ways and Balthus trying to dominate all of them. The Duke had seated Dieya to his right as the guest of honor.

The councilor's wife touched Dieya on the arm. "Tell me, Sir Sorcerer, can you place a spell on me that will make me beautiful?"

"Not one that would make you any more beautiful than you already are, I'm afraid." The plump matron tittered behind her hand and blushed.

The Duke leaned toward Dieya. "So, if I might ask, Sir Sorcerer, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"I need to ask a favor of Sir Balthus and Lady Adrianna and their friends."

The Duke nodded. "I guess even you need minions. If I can be of any service, please let me know."

"Thank you, your Lordship. We will be taking our leave of your hospitality before noon."

"Pity you can't stay longer, but I'm sure a sorcerer's work is never done, as is a Duke's."

"If you wouldn't mind, your Lordship, I'd like to take some time alone with my friends after breakfast."

"No, not at all. Please use my council chambers. I'll see to it that you'll not be disturbed."

"If it's quite all right, your Lordship, I'd like to use the library. Sunlight helps restore my powers." The Duke hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Of course. Anything you need."

Dieya knew about the spy hole in the Duke's council chambers. He had used it once himself.

With breakfast over and farewells said to the Duke's court, Dieya, Balthus, Adrianna, Rory, Bo and Janelle found themselves alone in the library.

"So Dieya, what's next?" asked Balthus.

"I'd like you to look at this." Dieya reached into a pocket of his cape and pulled forth a piece of parchment. He carefully folded it near the top and held it out for Balthus' inspection. The trio scrambled to read over his shoulder. "Balthus, read it aloud," said Dieya.

"By the proclamation of King Justin the Fourth... You've folded it so I can't read what's there."

"Leave it for now. Keep reading," said Dieya.

"By the proclamation of King Justin the Fourth, something, and Dieya the Sorcerer call to arms all loyal warriors of the Kingdom to gather at Crossville for a three month punitive action in the east. The pay will be one gold sovereign a month for your service. Bonuses will be awarded for courage and valor."

"Well, Dieya, that should set every sword in the Kingdom swinging. A gold a month is high pay. Who's the fool who will be leading these cutthroats with you?"

Dieya snapped open the fold so the whole parchment was visible. Balthus read it again.

"By proclamation of the King, Sir Balthus of Steradam and Dieya the Sorcerer..." Balthus' mouth dropped open. "Dieya, have you gone mad? I can't command as large a mercenary force as that pay will likely bring in!"

"Why not? Can you think of anyone better?"

"What about Valerian, the King's Champion? How about him?"

"He will be there, leading the King's Arm. But the King won't let him lead a mercenary force."

"The King's Arm and a mercenary force?" Balthus gaped. "You must be expecting big trouble."

Dieya looked at the floor and nodded. "I am," he said quietly. He placed his hand on Balthus' arm. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important. I need someone I can trust. Someone who understands what the stakes really are."

Balthus collapsed in a chair. He looked poleaxed. Adrianna placed a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up at her and she nodded. Balthus spread his hands and looked up at Dieya. "If you think it wise, I will do it." He looked like a man who has just had a death sentence pronounced on him.

"Balthus, come on!" said Rory. "No one could shake a group of mercenaries into a prime fighting force better than you."

"Yeah Balthus, you can do it," said Bo.

Balthus stood up. "You're right. You two can come along with us to crack a few heads!"

"Sorry, Balthus," said Dieya. "At noon we will ride about twelve miles from here and Rory, Janelle and Bo will leave us. If you would, please accompany us and return with the luses. We will walk the final distance."

"As you say, Dieya. We have time for one more toast with some of the Duke's fine wine." Balthus passed out glasses and filled each from the Duke's wine cart. He filled his own last. "Eternal vigilance and absent friends."

The group raised their glasses and drank.

"Please Balthus, don't smash the glass," said Adrianna. "You and the Duke are not bosom buddies yet."

Balthus smiled and nodded. "Well met, friends. Let's mount and ride before we get too drunk to do so." He moved abruptly out the door and headed for the stables. Adrianna watched him go and smiled. She knew a brisk farewell was his way of dealing with any emotional parting. She followed.

Dieya led them due west to an outcropping of rocks near a barren valley. Everyone dismounted and said farewells with much hugging and handshaking.

"Balthus," said Dieya. "I'll meet you and Adrianna back at Brightmoor Castle."

Balthus and Adrianna mounted and trotted away. Over his shoulder Balthus yelled, "Take the fight to them, friends. Send them to hell!" He spurred his luse to a gallop and Adrianna joined him.

Rory watched them ride off, then turned to Dieya. "Well, what now, Sir?"

"My base is in a cave near those cliffs. You should be home for lunch."

"I heard that!" said Bo and walked quickly into the valley.

Dieya stared at his back.

"He's a newlywed, Sir," explained Rory.

"Ah, I understand. Then let's not keep his bride waiting any longer, shall we?"

They followed the Lancelead into the valley with Dieya soon taking the lead. A brisk ten-minute walk led them to the side of a rocky cliff.

Rory looked up. "I hope we don't have to climb far. That rock face looks very inhospitable."

"No, it's not far, Strikedag. We only need to get to that small ledge. A hologram masks the cave opening. Come, follow me."

Dieya used his long strides to climb up the shale leading to the opening, with Janelle behind him followed by Rory, then Bo. As Dieya neared the cave entrance, Janelle slipped on the shale and slid backwards, causing Bo and Rory to slip down as well. Dieya's enhanced speed flared instinctively and he dove to grab her hand.

It saved his life.

A half-mile away, Balthus and Adrianna were riding side by side when the explosion ripped through the air. The extra luses panicked and tried to bolt but Balthus kept a firm grip on their reins and calmed them down.

"What in the Seventh Level of Nimbus was that?" he asked.

"Do you think that was supposed to happen?"

"I don't think so," said Balthus. They looked back to the valley where a small cloud of dust rose into the air.

"Let's go back and find out."

They galloped to where the smoke and dust was still settling. Bo was staggering on his feet, everyone else was lying on the ground. Balthus leaped off his luse a second before Adrianna. "What happened?" he asked.

Bo looked up, his face blackened by dirt. "I don't know! There was an explosion." He leaned over Dieya.

"Help me up," said Dieya. "I have a medkit."

Adrianna aided Rory and Balthus rushed to Janelle and knelt by her side. She was unconscious and bleeding from several wounds. Her left arm was at an odd angle and Balthus was sure it was broken.

Bo helped Dieya to his feet. He had a bad cut on his forehead and blood leaked into his right eye. "Don't touch her!" demanded Dieya as he staggered to Janelle. "The way she fell, she might have a broken neck." He knelt next to her and removed from his pouch a small, rectangular silver box that contained rows of buttons and a small glass window. Placing it on the front of her throat, he touched one of the buttons. Balthus saw strange writing appear on the window of the silver box. The box beeped. Dieya wiped the blood from his eye and glanced at the writing.

"How is she?" asked Bo.

"Her neck is all right, but she has a bad concussion, along with a broken arm and some cuts." He examined her bent arm and pulled it straight. She moaned slightly. He touched the face of the silver box, held it in the palm of his hand and passed it over the injured arm. His palm began to glow green and a blue light pulsed out from the bottom of the silver box onto Janelle's arm. He played the blue light over the break for a few moments until the boxed beeped.

Bo knelt next to Dieya. "Can I do anything?"

"Yes. Run the auto-medkit over my forehead. I need to stop this bleeding."

Bo took the silver box from Dieya. "Yes. You'll need to see clearly when you work on her concussion." He punched a few buttons on the box and passed it over Dieya's cut, then read the writing on the small window. "It's just a deep cut, no other damage." He handed back the box. "Turn on your laser regenerator and I'll guide your hand." Bo held Dieya's wrist and guided the glowing hand over the cut area.

Balthus stared as the bleeding stopped and the flesh knit back together. He stopped himself from blurting out an oath by biting his tongue.

Dieya dropped his hand. "Good enough. Let's see what we can do for her concussion." He knelt over Janelle, touched a few buttons on the silver box and held it over her head. The box beeped and he read the writing on the window. He touched a few more buttons and placed the box above her left temple. His palm glowed green again and alternating lights of blue and yellow emitted from the box. This process took longer than healing her arm. Balthus thought that perhaps the box couldn't heal her when it finally beeped.

Dieya read the writing on the silver box. "She'll recover. It will take time but she'll be all right." A collective sigh issued from everyone. Balthus reached out and held Janelle's hand.

"How are your injuries, Strikedag?" asked Dieya. Rory was standing with Adrianna's help.

"Not too bad, Sir. I'm damn glad you carry a medkit with you."

Dieya placed the silver box against Rory's neck and touched a button. "It's S.O.P., Strikedag. I'd just hoped I'd never need it." The box beeped and Dieya read the writing in the window. "Just some cuts and a bump on the head. You'll be fine." He passed the silver box over Rory's wounds.

"Lancelead, how about you? Any injuries?"

"No, Sir. I took the least of it."

Balthus hadn't left Janelle's side and was still holding her hand. He looked up to Dieya. "Will she really be all right? I've seen people with head injuries before. They heal up, but they are never quite right again." He curled his big hand around her small one. "I've come to like and respect this lady quite a bit. Tell me true."

Dieya smiled. "True telling, Balthus. She will fully recover. She just won't be going anywhere for a while." He looked up at the spot that used to be his base. "I guess none of us will be going anywhere for a while."

"Dieya, what happened?" asked Bo. "One minute we were almost home, then blam! Was there an equipment malfunction?"

"No," said Rory. He stood shakily, then steadied himself on Adrianna's shoulder. "Take a deep breath, Bo. You can still smell the trolotrimeth in the air."

"A booby-trap, Lancelead," said Dieya. "I set it off when I started to enter the cave. If Janelle hadn't slipped I'd be a smear on the canyon wall." Dieya looked at the collapsed cave entrance and clenched his fist. "This is my fault. They have been one step ahead of me the whole time. They knew you three had dimgated here. It was their way of getting rid of all of us at once."

"Do we still have dimgate capabilities?" asked Rory.

Dieya pulled a jewel off his wrist amulet, placed it on his temple and blinked rapidly several times. "No. My personal dim is still operational, but the base's off-world dimgate and communications are down."

"Dieya, we should get Janelle indoors and out of the elements," said Balthus, still holding her hand.

Dieya nodded. "We'll make a sling from our cloaks. There is no wood around here to make a travois, so we'll suspend her between two luses. Strikedag, Lancelead, are you able to ride?"

"Yes, Sir," they echoed.

Balthus untied his cloak and began fashioning a sling with some rope.

"I bet you have a lot of questions," said Dieya, tying rope to the other corner.

Balthus glanced at him a moment then returned to his work. "No, and I won't until we get Janelle to a place where she can convalesce." He stopped tying a knot and stared at Dieya. "But after she's taken care of, you and I are going to have a long conversation. Possibly out behind the woodshed, if you get my drift." Balthus tightened a knot with a hard yank. "I don't like not knowing what's going on when my friends' lives are at stake."

Dieya looked at Balthus, then nodded. "Let's get her back to the Duke's first. Then we will talk."

They traveled with Janelle in the sling until they reached the road and were able to commandeer a wagon. It had been a short ride out but it was near dusk before they returned to the castle courtyard.

They carried Janelle to her bedroom and Dieya once again took out his silver box, touched a few buttons and placed it on her throat. Everyone gathered quietly around her bedside. When the box beeped, he quickly read the display.

"It looks good. She incurred no more damage from traveling. She should regain consciousness soon."

Everyone relaxed. Balthus gave Adrianna a hug and Rory patted Dieya on the back.

The door flew open and the Duke strode in.

"What's this I hear about you having injur– " His voice fell when he saw the dried blood on Dieya's face. Glancing at down at Janelle's pale, bruised face, his own grew pale. "In the Maker's name, what happened? I'll call for the physician."

"No," said Dieya. He grabbed the Duke's elbow and led him from the room, motioning for everyone else to leave as well. "I have done all that is possible for her at the moment. I would request that a servant sit with her and let us know when she awakens."

The Duke motioned to a nearby servant. "Let's retire to the library; I believe we all could use a brandy. There you can explain all that occurred."

They followed the duke to the library where servants filled glasses and left.

"Now, Sir Sorcerer, can you tell me what happened?"

"We were attacked."

"Attacked! On my land! I will call out the guard and scour the countryside for the brigands!"

Dieya held up his hand. "That will not be necessary, your Lordship. This was a magical attack. A spell sent from afar."

The Duke stared into space for a moment, then nodded his understanding. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No thank you, your Lordship. I will ask if Lady Janelle might abide here until she recovers."

"Certainly. She will be an honored guest in my house."

Dieya bowed low. "Your hospitality will be remembered."

"Posh! I could do no less. Is there anything else I can do? Any minor hurts my physician can see to?"

"No, thank you. I would like to ask your indulgence and let my friends and I confer in private. Due to this attack we have much to discuss."

"Of course." With that, he turned and left, closing the library doors behind him.

"Can't say he doesn't know when to leave," said Rory.

"The idea of magical attacks from afar has made him wary of our company," said Dieya.

Balthus sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and Adrianna sat on its arm. She placed her arm around his shoulders.

"He took one look at our faces and knew we are in no mood to play games," said Adrianna. She turned to the Sorcerer. "All right, Dieya. I believe you have something to discuss with us."

"We have put a lot of this together on our own," said Balthus. "If we are to have a council of war and I am to head such a host, I think it only fair that you be fully forthcoming with the dangers and possible obstacles."

Dieya nodded. "You're right. I will discuss this with you as if you were one of us. I know you will have many questions. Please hold them to the end." He waited until they both nodded.

"I believe this planet is undergoing some sort of experiment by the Kraken – our enemy. It seems that they wish to generate unrest, hardship and despair in the populace. They are gathering these negative energies in the vortexes I've told you about. The Krill's job was to send this energy somewhere," he glanced to Bo and Rory, "probably to the Cross you came from. Perhaps that is the purpose of a Cross, to store this energy and convert it for use. I have seen the vidpics of the mechanism in the Cross's center. My guess is that the negative energy powers it. How, and what it does we don't know and probably never will."

Balthus looked at Adrianna and shrugged.

Dieya leaned toward them. "What I do know is that the Sevoal, a nomadic tribe to the east, has risen in a holy war, a crusade that will burst from the east and sweep over the King's realm. We have to stop them. There's no one else who can."

Balthus began to speak then held his tongue.

"A Kraken agent has to be on Ravar. He placed the Krill into Baron Yorburg and I'm sure he is the one who booby-trapped my base and stirred up the Sevoal." He looked down at the floor. "It is my fault for not reacting more quickly. I thought the agent's only thrust was at Duke Lothogorn's castle and I was trying to quietly discover his whereabouts. It turns out they have plans within plans. As you know, if they fail here, we might be in for a major battle droid invasion or they might continue to try to undermine the planet in some other way. That is something we cannot foresee. Right now, we must stop the Sevoal from overrunning the country." He gestured to Balthus and Adrianna. "Go ahead, ask away."

Balthus finished his brandy, rose, and began to pace. "You have said much that I don't understand. But I don't need to know the nuances of all you have said right now. I do know that the Kraken, whoever they are, want to ruin my world and we won't let this happen." He stopped pacing and looked at Dieya. "But Dieya – the Sevoal? We could defeat them easily."

"Not any longer. The Kraken agent has shown them how to make steel arrowheads and axes."

"Damn. We could be facing the finest light cavalry in the world. Their archers are second to none. With their double-curved bows, no armor could withstand an attack." Balthus looked up. "How are their numbers? If they are few and lacking experience we could still steal a march on them."

"There are probably over ten thousand, by my estimates, and gathering more. They have already taken Eastedge Keep using siege engines."

Balthus jerked and his mouth dropped.

"Baron Genardt was dubious as well until he inspected the Keep. He is anxious to meet the Sevoal."

"Will the King send the Arm?"

"A thousand of the King's Arm will join us as an independent command."

"Only a thousand? Perhaps the King might be persuaded to send more."

Dieya smiled. "You are following in my footsteps, Balthus. The problem is the King's Arm numbers no more than two thousand knights in total."

Dismay shot across Balthus' face. "He is insane to disband the Arm!"

"He had to. The kingdom has very large financial woes."

Balthus stroked his beard. "It seems that the Kraken have picked an ideal time for an attack."

"More likely they have been maneuvering circumstances to their advantage."

"How long until they attack, do you figure?" asked Balthus.

Dieya shrugged. "From what I've learned, possibly six weeks."

"Six weeks! That's hardly enough time to gather the men, let alone to train them." Balthus threw open his hands. "Can we expect any help from your people?"

"With communications at my base destroyed, they will not even know. Eventually, they will check when I fail to report in, but it will be long after we have dealt with the Sevoal," said Dieya.

"What if the Kraken attack with battle droids?" asked Bo.

"Then it's a moot point," said Dieya. "We head for cover and try to survive until help arrives."

Balthus placed his hand on the burning that had begun in his stomach, then resumed pacing. "What of that 'explosion' as Bo called it, in the valley?" He stopped and turned to Dieya. "Will they use that weapon again, and what was it?"

"I doubt they will use it again. They, like us, don't seem to want to show any advanced technology. It was a mixture of chemicals which explode with great destructive power. Somehow they knew where my base was and trapped the entrance, waiting for someone to enter the cave."

"A device that kills indiscriminately?" asked Balthus with alarm.

Dieya nodded.

"That is unconscionable!" He punctuated that remark by slamming his fist into his hand. "So, we are to wait at Crossville while the men gather?" said Balthus.

"Yes," said Dieya. "I'll have the proclamation asking for men to join us hanging in every town and hamlet by tomorrow."

Balthus nodded. "Then Adrianna and I will journey to Crossville and await you. What of Bo and Rory?"

Bo shrugged. "If it's all the same to you, Sir, I'd like to go with Balthus," he said. "We're marines, Sir. We could be of some help. Here or back home, it's still the same fight."

Rory grunted in agreement.

Dieya nodded, but continued looking moody and upset. "This is my fault. I should have been more proactive. They obviously knew where my base was and rather than just kill me, they set the trap to kill all of us at once. I should have known they wouldn't let you three just walk away from your actions in the Cross."

Balthus patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We'll break their bones yet. You'll see. They've already made a major mistake." He grabbed Adrianna's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"What mistake is that?" asked Rory.

"They got me mad at them." Holding Adrianna's hand, he left the library to find out about dinner.

CHAPTER 57

The meaty thunk when Balthus' fist hit the side of the man's head caused the others in the tent to wince. The man fell to the ground with a crunch and Balthus looked down. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?" He drove the toe of his boot hard into the prone man's ribs. "Could be that hurt a bit too." Balthus squatted next to the man. "I'm not in a good mood. I haven't been for several weeks!" He grabbed the man by the hair and gave the head a hard shake. "Where is the other supply wagon?" roared Balthus.

"About three miles east, hidden in the woods," gasped the man.

Balthus hauled him up by his shirt and dragged him out of the tent. He threw him down at the feet of the guards. "Have this idiot lead you to the stolen supplies and bring them back."

The guards picked up the battered man. "What should we do with this scum after?" asked a scar-faced guard.

Balthus waved a hand. "I don't care."

The guards grinned as they dragged the man away.

Balthus re-entered the tent, shaking his head. "I can understand thievery, but I can never understand stupidity. Steal our own supplies then try to sell them back to us? What could he have been thinking?"

Dieya sat at a table studying a map. "Thinking isn't one of his finer traits, I'm sure," said Dieya without looking up.

Balthus turned back to the doorway and looked out at the mercenary camp. Smoke from hundreds of fires filled the late-morning sky. The stirring of men and luses gave the ground the appearance of a living creature, flowing with movement. Five thousand men. He hoped it would be enough.

Looking out over the horde, Balthus remembered how nervous he had first felt at being responsible for all these men. Now he only felt ill-at-ease at how untrained they were. His feelings of responsibility for their physical well-being had greatly lessened after dealing with their petty complaints and ill manners for weeks.

Balthus re-entered the tent and joined Dieya and Bo at the table. "Still think withstanding a siege is our best bet?" he asked.

Dieya nodded without taking his eyes from the map. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The knights will be worthless against the Sevoal. The grasslanders will simply outride the knights and shoot them down. The Sevoal have spent their lives riding and hunting wartanga from ehtaback. The mounted knights will just be larger game."

Balthus nodded. "The knights won't like it. I can't see them standing wall duty very well. They will chafe and rant and want to be out among the Sevoal, feeling safe in their steel armor." Balthus lifted his wine cup to his lips, but found it empty. He stared at it as if someone else had finished it off. If I keep this up, I will get like Lotho. He put the cup down.

"The knights have a different attitude now than they had a few days ago." Dieya looked up and smiled. "Before the Arm left the King's palace, I put on a little demonstration. With a Sevoal wartanga bow I put several steel-pointed arrows through an armored dummy. The ease with which the armor was pierced gave them a new appreciation for sturdy stone walls."

Balthus grunted. "Nothing like showing a man his own mortality to get his attention. How about Baron Genardt? Has he fallen into line as well, or does he still think he can rout the Sevoal with a mild show of force?"

"No, the sacking of Eastedge Keep and a similar demonstration has him well in our camp. He is anxious to meet with them, though. He feels this attack was a personal affront."

Balthus studied the map for a few moments. "Dieya, are you sure they will attack Glendell Castle? The Sevoal could just as easily move here," he said and thumped his finger down on a southern pass, "and bypass the Castle. That will force us out into the open."

"No. With us at their rear, we'll just cut off their supplies. I will put to the torch any supplies they might think to gather as they advance." He looked into the distance and clenched his fist. "They are in my kingdom now. If they choose the southern route of attack, I can promise you not a single Sevoal will leave the Kingdom alive."

Balthus grunted in agreement but his thoughts were on Dieya. He would have to oversee Dieya's commands to make sure they were backed by logic, not hatred. Oh great, another thing to worry about. He found himself reaching for the wine bottle again and stopped.

Rory's entry into the tent was a welcome diversion.

"Rory!" cried Balthus. "Our master trainer returns."

"Don't start with me, Balthus. It's been a tough morning. These folks don't seem to understand anything more subtle than hitting someone on the head with the big hunks of metal they call swords."

"Well, it looks like we will be in siege mode for the fighting so they won't have to learn any maneuvers," said Balthus. "They just have to know how to hit someone on the head with a hunk of metal and, as you pointed out, they already know how to do that."

Rory sighed. "I have managed to sort out the archers in the group from the ones who don't know which end of the bow to pull on. I actually got them to fire a salvo in unison." He sat down and poured himself a cup of wine. "We seem to have attracted a lot of young men who know the plow better than the sword." He hoisted his cup in a silent toast and took a long drink.

"Yes, what young lad could resist the lure of serving his country and earning some King's gold," said Balthus. "Even so, they will have their uses and there may be some fine warriors hidden in farmer's garb. I was one once, and now look at me." He stood straight and placed his hands on his hips. "Here stands one of Ravar's finest warriors, preparing to lead a great host into battle." He sagged and surveyed his friends. "Would one of you gentlemen tell me again how I got talked into doing this?"

Laughter filled the tent.

"Strikedag," said Dieya. "I'm surprised and pleased at your knowledge of how to use what must seem like primitive weapons."

"I was a survival school instructor on Alliance Base One for awhile. Had to master all types of weapons, from a rock to a Kali cannon." Rory shrugged. "Always had the knack with any weapon."

Adrianna entered carrying a large tray full of roast chops, potatoes and something green. "Time to eat, Gentlemen. You must keep your strength up." She lowered the tray onto the table without hesitation and Dieya had to yank his map away.

Dieya shot her a look, then smiled. "I must say, this is the first campaign I've ever been on where I've gained weight."

"You need more weight," she said, poking him in the ribs.

"Whatever you say – Mother..."

She elbowed her way next to him and began to eat. The others fell to and no words were exchanged for a while.

"How's Janelle doing?" she asked, after the first rush of feeding slowed down.

"She's faring well," said Dieya. "I had dinner with her again last night. She's up and about and wanted to join us. I forbade it, of course, being her doctor and commanding officer."

"So she will be here soon, I would guess," said a smiling Adrianna.

"Yes. That is, she would have, but I refused to tell her where we are, and the Duke agrees."

"The Duke, I'm sure, enjoys her company," said Rory.

"The Duke has nothing but respect for Janelle – and perhaps a little fear," said Dieya.

"It's you he fears," said Balthus, pointing a half-eaten chop at the Sorcerer.

"Perhaps that's true, but if it helps smooth the way, so be it," said Dieya.

Balthus winked at Adrianna, then leaned over the table. "These dinners with Janelle, are they private... affairs?"

Red blossomed for an instant on Dieya's face then quickly dissipated. He stared at his food for a moment then looked at Bo. "So... How goes the training with your group, Lancelead?"

Balthus grinned at Adrianna.

"My group?" asked Bo. He, too, smiled at the subject change. "My group is little more than a rabble."

"Bo, rabble though they be," said Balthus, "they will fight hard enough when the battle starts." He reached for another chop. "And any man who can thump a Sevoal on the head will be a welcome friend."

"These are not trained marines, Lancelead," said Rory. "They are undisciplined, disrespectful and lazy. But they do have spirit and that is what I hope will carry the day. Lord knows, it won't be their ability."

"They have no unit cohesiveness at all," said Bo. "I'm hoping that splitting them into groups as I have will at least build some teamwork. How much longer do we have for training, by the way?"

Dieya speared an apple with his dagger and thought for a moment. "The King's Arm will be here in three days. We will march to Glendell Castle with them."

"Dieya," said Balthus, "that reminds me. How are we fixed for gold?"

"Fine. I have a goodly amount stashed in several locations. Why?"

"I need a large purse for a little something I want to purchase in Freetown."

"What do you need in Freetown, Balthus?" asked Bo around a mouthful of bread.

Balthus leaned toward him. "I need a helmet with a big 'shoot me' sign for you to wear, because you haven't learned to keep your shield up."

Bo cringed at the round of laughter.

"It's awkward, but I'm learning."

"Don't worry, Balthus," said Rory. "After the first volley, it will be second nature."

"If he remembers before the first volley," added Adrianna. She glanced at Bo. "You know, it's such fun to pick on the youngest member of the group."

"It must be terrific fun the way you all do it so often," said Bo.

"Sir Balthus," said a guard, sticking his head inside the tent, "there is a group of mounted men heading this way."

Balthus wiped his hands on his shirt and rose. "Shall we see who has come to pay homage to Sir Balthus and the Royal Sorcerer?"

"Probably another irate farmer and his pregnant daughter," said Rory.

Balthus rolled his eyes. "Please, not another." They rose and filed out of the tent.

Sixty mounted men rode toward the command tent, which was centered in the middle of the camp on a small hillock.

"Look at that big rider behind the leader. It has to be Oldwick," said Balthus.

"The leader is a boy," said Dieya.

Balthus shaded his eyes and stared at the leader. "Gerin! By my word, I believe it is Gerin leading Oldwick's band!"

The column neared and indeed Gerin Jedar rode at the fore of the mercenaries.

"Gerin!" said Balthus as the men reined up near the command tent. "What are you doing here?" He glanced up at Oldwick, who was riding next to Eli Hawke. "And in such noble company."

Gerin alighted from his luse and ran to Balthus, gripping his hand in warrior fashion, hand to wrist.

"Balthus! It's good to see you again!" He went to Adrianna and gave her a big hug. Adrianna returned the hug and as they separated, she mussed his hair. He greeted Bo and Rory and turned to Balthus.

"I heard you called for warriors. So here I am." He grinned, as did Balthus.

"Gerin," said Balthus. "I'm so glad to see you that I will wait a bit before I take you out behind the tent and beat some sense into you."

Gerin looked down and worried a rock in the ground with his toe. "I'm not really here for the fight, Balthus." He looked up. "I just wanted to see what you'd say." He grinned. "My father sent me to deliver his gift."

"Gift? Boy, you should have told your father I needed no thanks for saving you."

"I would have, except for the nature of this gift," said Gerin. "I agreed you might need it." He turned and held an outstretched arm to Oldwick and the other mercenaries. "My father wishes you and Adrianna to meet your new personal guardsmen. These men have already been paid and given instructions that your persons are to be safeguarded during the coming trials."

Oldwick and Hawke alighted from their luses and approached. Oldwick halted in front of Balthus, drew his sword and held it upright.

"Balthus, I pledge my strength to you and yours. No enemy shall pass. No trouble shall harm you – for now. We will wait until after the battle to settle our private score..." As he swore this oath, his eyes darted over the group, searching for someone. "...and when our service has ended," he said as he sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, "I will marry the Lady Janelle and shower her with fame and riches! Where is my bride-to-be?" He stared at the group, as if daring someone to deny him.

Balthus stood shocked, the thoughts of "settling" with Oldwick erased by the giant's marriage announcement.

Dieya stepped forward. "I am –"

"I know who you are. I was at Castle Lothogorn and saw your handiwork. I am not afraid." He glared down at Dieya.

Balthus shot a questioning look at Eli Hawke.

Hawke shrugged. "Beats me. He got this into his head after she bested him at the Blue Boar Inn. When we heard that Thorin Jedar was hiring men to be your bodyguard, Oldwick jumped at the chance, knowing that the Lady would no doubt be with you. Gerin told Oldwick her name." He shrugged again, pulled out a dagger and began to clean his nails.

Dieya reached up and laid his hand on Oldwick's enormous shoulder. "If you are fond of Lady Janelle, as we all are, I have grievous news for you. She was seriously injured in an attack by the Sevoal. She is being cared for at Duke Astard's castle, but I am afraid there is little hope of her recovery."

Oldwick staggered back, as if he'd been punched.

Balthus covered a smile with his hand. The Sorcerer was as quick-witted as anyone he'd ever seen. They would have to have that game of Shallcross sometime.

Oldwick straightened, drew his sword and held it high in the air. "I, Oldwick, will kill ten for each hair on her head! This I swear!"

"Oldwick, your oath is noted," said Dieya. "I will see that it and your deeds are relayed to Lady Janelle on her sickbed."

The giant nodded and stepped back. "We will camp by your tent, Balthus, and begin our guard duty now." He gestured and four men dismounted; the rest of his men rode off to set up camp.

The guards took up positions at each outside corner of the tent with Oldwick standing at the opening, his massive sword held in his fist.

Balthus opened the tent flap. "Gerin, come inside and tell us all about this generous 'gift' of your father's." They seated themselves around the table. "Dieya," said Balthus, "I don't think you've met our young friend, Gerin."

"Dieya?" The boy's smile dropped and he stared at the Sorcerer with awe. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't know who you were."

Dieya studied the young man for a moment, then smiled and extended his hand. "You know who I am, Gerin. I am a friend of Balthus and Adrianna, as are you." Gerin shook the extended hand and Dieya patted him on the shoulder.

Dieya's action gladdened Balthus. "So, Gerin," he said, pouring wine all around, "if you're not here for the fight, why did you come? Not that we aren't glad to see you."

The young man smiled. "Father suggested it. When you move east, I am to take ten of the men with me back to Freetown. He thought it would be good for me to learn what being with a band of soldiers is like."

"And what have you learned?" asked Adrianna.

A looked of mortification slid over Gerin's face. "I learned that I am not the rider that I thought I was." He took a drink of wine to cover his embarrassment. "I held back the men a bit for the first two days, I'm afraid. It's one thing to ride around our estate; it's another to ride from sunup to sunset."

"You got that right," muttered Bo.

Gerin nodded. "I also learned a lot just listening to the men talk around the campfire at night."

"A youth who learns by listening?" said Dieya. "Balthus you are correct, he is a find."

The group laughed at Gerin's blush.

"Gerin," said Bo, "I'm awfully glad you are here. Now maybe they will ignore me for a while and pick on you for a change."

"Don't worry, Bo," said Balthus. "You still have plenty of faults for us to point out."

The table erupted in more laughter, but Adrianna pursued Gerin's statement. "What did you learn by listening?" she asked quietly.

Gerin took a moment to answer. "It's hard to put into words. Listening to the men's tales, I found out that life outside of my father's villa is very hard and sometimes very brutal. I discovered that just surviving in this world can be a struggle." Gerin turned to Balthus. "You pointed out the shortcomings of my sister but you failed to point out mine. I have lived a very sheltered life."

"I know that, Gerin," said Balthus with a fond look. "I also knew that it was a lesson you would have to learn for yourself. Go on, what else did you learn?"

"I found that being in the company of men is enjoyable – most times," he said, a blush starting on his ears. "And it's incredible how crass men can be."

"Most times," interjected Adrianna.

"The trip gave me time to see and muse on the plight of the common folk. I think a little education could really benefit the people of the kingdom." His face lit and he turned to Dieya. "Sir Sorcerer, it is said that you have the King's ear. Is this true?"

Dieya bowed slightly. "I do have his confidence, yes."

"Then I wonder if you might broach an idea I had to the King!" Gerin's words were wreathed with youthful exuberance. "Tell him he might think of setting up small schools in each district and letting children go to them for one day a week. I think it would bode well for the kingdom."

"Gerin," said Balthus, "you do realize you're trying to use a legendary Sorcerer as a messenger boy?"

Gerin's exuberance died and his face flamed red. The red deepened as Dieya stared at Gerin.

"I, ah... that is, ah, I'm sorry, Sir," said Gerin. "I presume too much, Sir. I was just caught up with an idea. I'm sorry." He looked down at the table and clasped his hands together.

Dieya looked at a smiling Balthus, then back to Gerin. "Gerin, that is a fantastic idea. I will certainly bring it to the King's attention." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Have you given any thought to the curriculum?"

Gerin's exuberance returned and the red fled. "Yes, Sir. I thought we should start with basic hygiene," he wrinkled his nose, "– that's something that's really necessary – then math and reading. It should be simple at first."

Balthus saw Dieya becoming as excited as Gerin. They discussed the pros and cons of teaching different subjects. Balthus joined the discussion and they didn't notice when Oldwick stuck his head in the tent. He caught Adrianna's eye and motioned her to come outside. Adrianna rose and left the tent.

She re-entered shortly. "Balthus, come quickly!"

Balthus followed her out the door. He returned a few minutes later with the strangest look on his face. It was such a look of astonishment that those in the tent ceased their discussion.

"Balthus, what is it?" asked Rory.

Balthus ignored him. "Dieya, you must come. They are asking for you! I've never seen them before."

"Who, Balthus? Who is it?"

"It is the Arvari, Dieya. Dozens of Arvari!"

Dieya followed Balthus and Adrianna to the tree line where the Arvari leader waited.

"I asked them to follow me to our tent but they wouldn't come!" Balthus sounded like a petulant child.

"The Arvari adhere to a strict custom," said Dieya. "They must first be invited into the camp and asked to share our food."

Dieya smiled as he recognized the Arvari leader. "Erondil!" They grasped each other's forearms. "It is good to see the Arvari again. Please come into our camp. Share our food and fire."

"Laere-Tere, it is good to see you also. My eldest son and I will enter your camp and share your food. I hope you will not take offense if the rest of the warriors remain in the forest. We feel exposed out in the open among a great horde such as this."

"No offense will be taken." He turned to Balthus. "Tell the men that these woods are off-limits. Leave the Arvari alone or face the consequences."

Balthus nodded, but didn't take his eyes off the woodland folk. He looked like a small boy who has just received a wonderful present.

Dieya noticed his expression and smiled. "Erondil, I would like you to meet my friend Balthus and his woman Adrianna."

Balthus extended his forearms the way Dieya had done. "Welcome to our camp, Erondil. It would be an honor if you would share our food and fire."

Erondil placed his hands on top of Balthus' forearms. "It is our honor to meet a friend of Laere-Tere." He bowed to Adrianna and turned to the Sorcerer. "Let me present my eldest son, Erondo." The touching of arms ritual was repeated and Erondo bowed low to Adrianna.

Dieya led the two Arvari to the command tent. "To what do we owe this visit from the Arvari?"

"We heard of your notice asking for warriors. We could not help but come."

Dieya frowned. "Erondil, your people need to rebuild, to grow stronger and multiply. This fight will be ours."

"No, Laere-Tere, this fight is ours as well. Was it not the Sevoal who burned our forests? Was it not the Sevoal who burned our sacred groves?"

"Yes, it was. But the time for the Arvari to seek vengeance is not now. They should rebuild the tribes first."

Erondil smiled. "I have brought over a hundred warriors with me, and many hotara – widowed grandmothers – have come as well. They are skilled at healing wounds. Even some of our far northern cousins have joined us. Each warrior's wife is with child. With twins, in most cases, as Caranthir assures us. The tribes, thanks to your supplies, will flourish. We are only a token force, but one I hope you will accept."

Dieya crossed his arms against his chest. "I accept your warriors. The numbers you bring are small, that is true. But each is an Arvari. That will count for much."

They walked back to the tent discussing the role the Arvari would play in the coming battle.

CHAPTER 58

The scout rode to the command tent but Balthus already knew his report. The dust cloud could be seen from three miles away.

"Sir Balthus," announced the scout as he reigned up his luse, "the King's Arm is coming up the west road. A great many of them, Sir."

"Thanks for that accurate account. I'll have the cook set the table for a great many."

The sarcasm was lost on the scout, who saluted and rode back to his post.

Dieya emerged from the command tent and watched the dust cloud. "Well, looks like we will be moving out on the morrow."

"How long will it take us to get to Glendell Castle?" asked Balthus.

"With this group? A week, maybe more."

"Why don't you send the Arm on first," said Balthus. "They will make better time and will set a pace that our lads can try to match. Bo and I will lead the mounted mercenaries and Rory can lead the foot and archers."

Dieya nodded, never taking his eyes from the dust cloud.

Balthus saw Dieya was worried. "How long until the Sevoal reach Glendell? Any idea?"

Dieya shrugged. "I've been out in the grasslands every night checking. Groups are starting to move toward their gathering point. How long until they are ready to march, I can't say." Dieya's fists clenched. "I told them, 'We need optical satellites, not just sensors.' 'Not necessary,' they said. 'Not in the budget,' they said." Dieya glanced at Balthus. "They should be the ones in the front line if the Sevoal move on us early."

Balthus laid his hand on Dieya's shoulder. "I'm glad you told them that. Budget be damned!"

The Sorcerer nodded, still staring at the approaching dust cloud.

Balthus sighed. "You know, of course," he whispered into Dieya's ear, "that I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about."

Dieya's attention snapped to Balthus. "I'm sorry. You have taken this in such stride and asked so few questions, I forget you are not from our world. I would be brimming with questions. Why aren't you?"

Balthus stroked his beard for a moment in thought. "Well, I can put things together pretty well with little information. As far as you being from another world, we had that figured out and the shock is long over. As for questions, I just work out what I can and let the rest go. I know that no combat unit ever has enough men and equipment at the right time and place. You have to make do. So I figured that's what you were talking about when you mentioned optical satellite whatevers. Humans are still humans, as Rory has assured me, and I'm sure a royal administrator is the same animal on all worlds. That's not what bothers me."

Balthus turned Dieya to face him. "You bother me," he said, jabbing a finger into the Sorcerer's chest. He laid both hands on Dieya's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Dieya, you are losing your perspective. What's the worst that can happen? If the Sevoal overrun the castle, we run and hit them when we can. The deeper they go into our land the harder it will become for them. They cannot replace their losses – we will cut them off. And every man in the kingdom will rally to stop them once they cross the King's Road. We will defeat them. If they open one of those gate things and send through a bunch of those bad battle critters, we go to ground and wait for your people to help." Balthus dropped his arms. "Cheer up! If we lose at first, wait a little while and things will change. Everything will turn out all right. The worst they can do is kill us."

Dieya took a few moments to absorb what Balthus had said, obviously looking for flaws in Balthus' logic. Then he smiled and shook his head. "Balthus, you have an innate need to spoil someone's brooding, don't you? I have felt a little lost since the destruction of my base. I have depended on it too much." He nodded. "But you are right. The odds are in our favor. I don't think they understand the resolve of the King's men or any human for that matter. That has always been one of their oversights. We will win because we have to." He patted Balthus on the shoulder and inhaled deeply. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Next time, I'll just give you a swift kick in the backside to remind you of this conversation."

They turned and waited in silence for the King's Arm.

A group of seven knights broke off from the column and approached the command tent, pennants snapping in the breeze atop upraised lances. The rest turned off to an open meadow to make camp. Balthus had to admit they looked impressive. Six of the knights rode black luses with white-striped hindquarters. The leader sat astride a pure white stallion and as they slowed from a lope to a walk, the mount pranced as if he knew every eye in the camp was on him.

The seven came to a halt in front of the command tent. Valerian, the leader, doffed his helmet, shook out his long flowing blond hair and surveyed the camp, his gaze coming to rest on Balthus and Dieya.

Valerian looked like every storybook champion with chiseled aristocratic features and bright blue eyes. He sat his luse ramrod straight, wearing burnished steel armor covered by a gold-embroidered white tunic and gold cape. Valerian appeared the perfect specimen of knighthood – then he opened his mouth.

"Well, Sir Sorcerer," he said in a squeaky voice that would be more appropriate issuing from a small rodent, "I have brought the King's Arm, as the King requested." He alighted from his luse and approached Balthus and Dieya with outstretched hand.

Dieya shook his hand and smiled. "Good to see you again, Valerian. Let me introduce you to Sir Balthus."

Valerian, smiling, turned to Balthus and shook his hand. "Sir Balthus. I heard tell you were at Sumtra in the Kyndian War. Is that true?"

"You heard correctly, Sir Valerian." Balthus found himself making his voice deeper than normal.

"Then, well met, Sir. I'm sure we will show the same mettle to the Sevoal!" He looked around the camp. "I can't say as much for these mercenaries. How formidable a force are they?"

"They are learning," said Balthus. "The groups that came in with their own captains and have been together for a while will do all right. The rest will have to learn the lesson of blood for themselves."

Valerian nodded.

"Come," Balthus said and held open the tent flap, "you must have something to cut the dust of the road from your throat."

"And we have much to discuss," said Dieya.

Valerian ordered his men to see to the camp and entered the tent, followed by Balthus. "So, Sir Sorcerer, have you not changed your plans?" asked Valerian without preamble as he sat down. Balthus poured the wine.

"No. If anything I am more firmly convinced of it. The best thing to do is to let them break their teeth on Glendell Castle's walls. Once they have given up, then we can pursue them."

The Knight Champion squirmed in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable with his role. "Perhaps a surprise sortie from the castle could disperse the savages?" he asked plaintively.

Balthus still wasn't used to the squeaky voice and when the gleaming knight grew whiney, the pitch raised even higher. Balthus covered a smile with his wine cup.

"Perhaps, Sir Valerian, perhaps," said Dieya. "It just might be the right thing to do. We will have to wait and see what opportunities are presented by the fates."

Balthus looked at both men and could see that Dieya was humoring Valerian, who still had illusions of a grand charge to rout the enemy. Balthus began to sense the conflicts they might have when confined in Glendell Castle and hoped Baron Genardt would be more pliable than the King's Champion. He sighed quietly to himself. His biggest fight might be with the leaders of the King's own forces.

The next day, the camp was a flurry of activity. The King's Arm left at daybreak. The mercenaries, however, took most of the morning to get under way.

Gerin entered the command tent to bid farewell. He received warrior handshakes from Rory, Bo and Dieya, a hug from Adrianna and a headlock from Balthus. "Tell your father I'll be returning one day for a taste test of his wine cellar." He released Gerin and smiled. "Ride safe."

They watched Gerin ride away, then began their own packing.

Balthus and Adrianna sat astride their luses, watching the camp's activity from a hilltop.

Dieya rode up and joined them. "Why is it taking so long?" His voice said he chafed to be on their way.

"This is typical of many soldiers," said Balthus. "I've seen men set up camp for one night and unpack like they were remaining there for the rest of their lives." He shook his head. "I've never understood it."

"Some folks don't feel comfortable without their possessions around them," said Adrianna. "They don't realize their possessions are actually holding them back. If they could just accept the world as it is, instead of their artificially created one, they would be much happier."

Dieya smiled at Adrianna. "You two are certainly unique in your outlook."

"We love our creature comforts as well as the next man," said Balthus. "But what Adrianna means is that by not accepting what you are being given in the moment, you are held back from being given more." Balthus gestured at Dieya. "Like you, for instance."

"Me?" said Dieya.

"Yes. You are very attached to your world and their ideals. You live here, but spend most of your time in the artificial world created by your mind. Always looking ahead, never taking the time to savor the moment."

Adrianna nodded in agreement.

Dieya blinked and stared at the ground.

"When was the last time you watched a bird in flight and marveled at the creation of the universe?" said Balthus.

"It's not enough to see the world," said Adrianna. "You must feel as if it is a part of you and you are one with it."

"Let me put it more eloquently," said Balthus. "Ease off! All the worry in the world won't get us there any faster. Do the best you can and let the rest go. Worrying gets in the way of enjoying life."

Dieya sat unmoving on his luse, staring, his eyes unfocused. Their words had ripped through him and rang in his consciousness like a bell. They brought forth echoes of the conversation he had had with Janelle in the Duke's library.

Dieya visualized his worries wrapped around him like chains. Chains he had crafted himself link by link. By constantly living in the future and worrying about what might occur, he had created a life for himself that was shallow at best and purgatory at worst. His self image had been one of noble sacrifice. He now realized this was just a trick of the mind to keep him in his chains.

Balthus and Adrianna shared a look between them as Dieya sat slumped and unmoving for several minutes, still staring into the distance. They were beginning to worry when a small smile lit Dieya's face. It was the smile of a child who has suddenly gained enlightenment on a problem that has long perplexed him. Dieya sat upright on his luse and the smile blossomed into a big grin.

Dieya looked at Balthus and Adrianna. "You are right! I have been a fool."

"A sorry fool!" echoed Balthus.

Dieya ignored him. "We will do the best we can and we will win. One way or another, we will win. If the outcome is no longer in doubt, there is no need for worry." Dieya paused for a moment. "I will help to get everyone moving, then I will go to Glendell Castle via my magic." He saluted the pair and spurred his luse down into the mercenary camp, his black cape flowing behind him in the wind.

Balthus and Adrianna looked at each other. "The man has an epiphany right in front of our eyes," said Balthus, "then has the effrontery to ride off, not even giving us time to pat ourselves on the back? The knave!"

Adrianna smiled. "But you know the nature of the mind. He will find himself worrying about something or other soon enough. And then we will have to prod him again to remember today's realizations."

Balthus considered this for a moment then nodded. "That could be fun." He held out a hand and Adrianna took it and squeezed. "It has been a hell of a morning," said a smiling Balthus. They spurred their mounts down toward the camp.

CHAPTER 59

Balthus had a different mercenary captain ride in the fore with him each day. It was good for morale and Balthus used the time to gauge each captain's abilities.

Captain Queekal rode this morning with Balthus and Adrianna. He was half Kyndian from the look of him, and a fairly able leader as far as Balthus could determine.

Many men could lead a troop during a march but the ones who could lead during battle were the ones Balthus sought. Balthus sized up Queekal through casual conversation and pointed questions. Queekal answered politely and asked questions of his own.

Balthus glanced back at Queekal's men and looked them over. They were relaxed, capable and had a good attitude. Good attitude only flows in one direction, from the leader down. Queekal had passed inspection and Balthus knew he could count on him – count on him a little longer than he could most mercenary captains, anyway. It was mid-morning when Balthus realized Queekal was sizing him up as well. He laughed.

"Something comical, Sir Balthus?" asked Queekal.

"I found it amusing that while I was taking your measure, you were doing the same to me."

Captain Queekal smiled. "It's good to know how much you can depend on your employer. Some feel that mercenaries are nothing more than battle fodder, to be used up as much as possible. Probably hoping to avoid payment." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "These men are pledged to me and I have a responsibility to them."

"As any good captain should," agreed Balthus. "Have you been in the east before?"

"Yes. Before I had my own band, I traveled to Glendell Castle as a caravan guard several times."

"Ah... Perhaps you might share any observations you have about its defenses."

Captain Queekal was silent for several moments. "Let me just say that I'm glad it is you who has been charged with that duty."

Balthus closed his eyes. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

They rode on for the rest of the morning, exchanging small talk. The forest was growing sparser with each mile, until they came around a bend in the trail and left the woods completely. Balthus slowed his mount and took in the vista before him. An ocean of grass stretched out as far as he could behold. It truly reminded him of the sea. The wind blew gently and the rippling blades of tall grass resembled waves on the ocean. The similarity ended as he took a deep breath.

"Gagh! What is that smell?" He turned to Captain Queekal. "Does all the grassland smell like this?"

Queekal laughed. "No, not at all. There are sulfur springs over that rise to the left. There is actually a small settlement there."

"How in God's name do they stand the smell?" Balthus said, holding his nose.

"One gets used to it. Actually they support the baths that have been built around the springs. Bathing in the waters is supposedly good for some ailments."

"It can't be good for any ailments of the nose! Let's hurry and get past." He signaled to his troops, then put spurs to his luse.

Two hours later, Glendell Castle appeared in the distance.

"Uh-oh," said Balthus.

"What is it?" asked Adrianna.

"It's bigger than I thought. The men will be spread thinly on the walls. I was hoping for something more defensible."

Glendell Castle sat on a small rise, surrounded by grass on three sides. To the south, a small finger of forest stretched to within a hundred yards of the castle.

Balthus studied the walls as if he had to scale them, and grunted in disappointment. They were only twenty feet high and not very thick. The stones were ill trimmed, leaving plenty of handholds for a rigorous climber. As they passed through the west gate, he saw the gate itself was only one thickness of lumber.

Two small towers flanked a single gate entrance in each wall with a similar tower on each corner of the walls. The towers were merely raised stone platforms with stairs around the outsides. There would be no way to seal off the towers from attackers if the gate fell. He grunted again.

"Breakfast not agreeing with you?" asked Adrianna.

"Look at this place, will you? A determined rodent could get in here with little trouble."

Adrianna surveyed the walls then looked back to Balthus. "It's nothing we can't fix."

Balthus glanced at her to see if she was kidding. She wasn't. He smiled, buoyed by her optimism. "You're right, Love. There is nothing we can't do if we set our minds to it."

They rode through the gates toward the Baron's citadel. The citizens of the town were few in number, at least the ones visible, and they stared at the mercenary column like they were the invading army, not the town's defenders. Balthus hoped the timing would work out well. An idle army in a town was a discipline nightmare.

They rode through the citadel's entrance and a mounted knight in green Glendell livery was waiting for them at the gate. "Sir Balthus. Dieya the Sorcerer asked me to lead your men to their billets and has asked for you to meet him in the main hall."

Balthus nodded, gave an order to a guardsman, then he and Adrianna split off from the column. Oldwick, Hawke and four others rode with them. Balthus glanced back at his bodyguards and decided not to order them to join the others. These men had sworn an oath to protect him and he would make it as easy for them as possible.

Dieya waited on the steps to the citadel proper as they rode into the courtyard. Stable boys rushed to take their luses as they dismounted.

"Dieya. How goes it?" Balthus said with a wave.

Dieya was grinning. "It's good to see you two again. How was the traveling?" He extended his hand and grasped Balthus' then Adrianna's, in warrior fashion.

"Boring. But what has been happening here?"

"Nothing more than getting organized. Why do you ask?" said Dieya.

"You seem happy. That usually means someone has died," said Balthus.

Dieya grinned wider. "No, sorry to disappoint you this time, Balthus. I just feel good, that's all."

Balthus joined him in a grin and patted his back. "Awareness certainly makes the wine taste sweeter, doesn't it?"

Dieya nodded. "Come, Baron Genardt is anxious to meet you two."

He led them up the stairs, Oldwick and Hawke following at a discrete distance. Balthus noticed the main door of the citadel was made of thick oakum reinforced by steel bands.

"Too bad we can't defend from the citadel. It looks solid enough to withstand any siege. How come the outside walls are so poorly made?"

"The outside walls were erected mainly to separate the town from the grasslands in case of a prairie fire," said Dieya. "The entire town was destroyed by fire several times in the past. A generation ago, Glendell's baron thought it would be a good idea to surround the town with a wall for a firebreak. It was never intended to withstand a siege."

Balthus nodded.

They entered a modestly decorated main hall and approached a group of officers standing around a table. Balthus' bodyguards held back and stood a respectful distance from the group.

"Baron Genardt, I'd like to introduce you to Sir Balthus of Steradam and his consort the Lady Adrianna."

A short portly man separated from the group and approached with an extended hand. Baron Genardt was a man in his late years. His thinning gray hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed down the back of his tunic. He had the look of a man who had ruled a long time and was used to fine wines and lavish dinners. His narrow eyes were set deep in a fat face.

"Sir Balthus, I'm glad you have arrived."

They shook hands. "It's good to finally meet, Sir."

The Baron turned to Adrianna and bowed. "Lady Adrianna, welcome to Glendell Castle. Please excuse us if we forgo the proper formalities. Life here on the eastern edge of the King's realm is harsh and we often overlook court protocol."

"Thank you, Baron, for your gracious welcome," said Adrianna. "In times such as these, a lack of formal court protocol is not only refreshing, but necessary." She bowed back.

Balthus was thinking that the Baron would be better off overlooking a few meals when the Baron grabbed him by the elbow.

"Come! See what the Sorcerer has created." He led them to a table, grinning like a small boy with a new toy. "There, isn't it wonderful!"

A scale model of Glendell Castle covered the table. It was complete down to the crenellations on the walls. All it needed was miniature people walking about to bring it to life. Balthus studied the reproduction with wonder. Strips of different colored cloth lay at the base of each miniature wall. "Dieya, this is fascinating. How did you make this?"

Dieya smiled. "I'm a sorcerer, remember?" He moved closer to Balthus and whispered, "...and I had my 'friends' construct this when I knew Glendell Castle would be the focus of the Sevoal attack. I had it delivered here before my base was destroyed."

"What do the colors signify?" asked Adrianna.

"I felt that due to the inexperience of our mercenary friends, if we broke them down into colored groups that matched the colored walls they defended, it would cause less confusion in the heat of battle. It is easier for a man to be told to go to the green wall than to try to remember which way is north or south. We will paint the inside of the parapet's walls with the correct color for easier identification."

"Ingenious!" Balthus looked at Dieya with a gleam in his eye. "This will also be a help in setting up watches and flying squads for reinforcements." Balthus thought for a moment. "We could pin a colored badge to each trooper and offer a bonus to the fastest responding color. Oh, this has a lot of possibilities. It will sponsor competition between the mercenary bands at the very least and give group pride to the freebooters." The wheels turned in Balthus' head. "Dieya, when we are done with this tonight, I'd like to move it out to the main square and have the men study it in their leisure time. Our troops have arrived in a new town, and after a week, the only things they will be able to find will be the mess hall and the bordellos. This will be a great help."

Dieya smiled again. "Already done, Balthus. I had thought of that as well, so I made two models. A larger one is presently sitting in the main square."

Balthus smiled. "I can't say you're not prepared. We will best these bastards yet." He turned to the Baron. "I say, Baron, do you have any wine in your castle? I must toast the Sorcerer on a magnificent idea."

CHAPTER 60

Balthus stood with Dieya on the west or "blue" wall's parapet, inspecting the artillery on the gate towers. The right-hand tower held a catapult, the left, a ballista, each mounted on a pivoting base. The gate towers on the other three walls held the same weapons.

"Where has Adrianna gotten off to this morning?" asked Dieya. "I haven't seen much of her lately."

"She's working on something. She seems to have made friends with the local town's women and the Arvari hotara."

"What is she planning?"

Balthus shrugged. "She didn't say, and I won't ask. She likes to hone an idea until it is presentable."

"Quite a resourceful woman," said Dieya.

Balthus grinned. "Aye, there's none better. I am a lucky man."

"You certainly seem to be, and that's very welcome. We're going to need all the luck we can get."

Dieya pointed to a cloud of dust to the west. "Here comes Rory with the infantry a day early."

"Yes, he has made good time with the archers and foot," said Balthus. "Rory must be pushing them hard."

Dieya nodded. "Listen!" he said and cupped an ear toward the ribbon of moving men.

Balthus strained but heard nothing for a few moments. Then he heard it. "They are singing!"

"Yes," said Dieya with a huge grin. "This lowly Strikedag of the Human Alliance Space Marines is a very valuable asset."

"No doubt. Rory is one of those who say little, but do much," replied Balthus.

When the infantry reached the wall, Rory stood next to the gate speaking to each group as they passed, sometimes praising, sometimes joking. Balthus was amazed. Archers and infantry were usually the dregs of any army, but Rory's people moved with confidence and pride.

When the last trooper marched through the gates, Rory bounded up the stairs and joined Balthus and Dieya on the tower. Balthus greeted him with extended hand. "Rory. Well met," said Balthus. He clasped Rory's wrist and slapped him on the back. "How did you arrive so quickly?"

Rory nodded to Dieya and grinned at Balthus. "Remember when you said the best way to make time on a luse is by varying the pace? Well, it works for men as well. We walked, trotted, jogged and ran."

"A marvelous achievement," said Dieya.

Rory looked down the street at the disappearing infantry. "They're turning into a good group. If I had two months with them I could really show you something." Rory stopped and wrinkled his nose. "What is that smell?"

One of the catapult loaders overheard and pointed to three wagons moving toward the gate. "It's the waste wagons."

"Waste wagons?" asked Balthus.

"Yes, Sir," the loader replied. "There is not enough water in Glendell to have any kind of sewer system, so the waste is collected and dumped out at brown flats, about two miles north."

"First the sulfur, now this," said Rory. He shook his head.

Balthus and Dieya exchanged an alarmed look. Each had arrived at the same conclusion, but Balthus spoke first. "What if it's a long siege?"

"I should have thought of this." Dieya grimaced. "I have to see how much waste we produce in a week and where we might be able to store it. I must see the Baron." He quickly left the tower, black cape flowing behind him as he ran down the street.

Balthus shook his head in exasperation. "I thought of many things that might cause problems, but never this."

"Yes, unsanitary conditions could cause more deaths than arrows if left unchecked," said Rory. He smiled and patted the catapult. "Well, if things get too bad, we could always load up the catapults and fling it at the Sevoal. It might not hurt them but it certainly would smell." His face took on a far away look as he stared down at the waste wagons. "Smells..." he mumbled.

"Rory, are you all right?"

Rory looked at Balthus and grinned. "Yes. I had an idea that's all."

"Well, tossing waste at the enemy is nothing new. But I hope it doesn't come down to that. A long siege will not bode well. I hope to break their spirit on these walls the first few days and send them back to their tents, tails between their legs."

Rory nodded absently, absorbed in thought.

Hurried activity filled the next several days as Balthus tried to shore up weak points in the town's defenses. Cutting back the forest from the southern wall was first on his list, and his first problem with Baron Genardt.

"Sir Balthus," said the Baron, "you can't mean to cut the forest!"

"Yes, Baron. It gives the Sevoal good cover and it's just a short run to the wall from there." The Baron blustered for a while before admitting that this was his private hunting reserve and he was loath to give it up. Balthus explained gently that if the Sevoal overran the city, the only hunt going on would be the one for his head. That sharpened the Baron's awareness of the situation and he acquiesced. Balthus stared at the Baron's retreating back as Adrianna touched him on the arm.

"You handled that very well," she said. "You could become an ambassador some day."

Balthus turned toward her, frustration framing his face. "Not really. I almost told that fat bastard that a longer ride to the woods might just shake off some of his lard." He rubbed his face with his hand, then grinned. "Ah well, it's all in a day's work as 'All Powerful Overlord.'" They shared a laugh as a guard approached Balthus.

"Sir, there are several wagons at the west gate. The lead wagon holds pottery the driver says you ordered. He says that you owe him a gold piece for a rush delivery."

"Ahhh, my pots have arrived. Wonderful!"

"We're going into the pottery business then?" asked Adrianna.

"Sort of. Come, you can help me store them and then we will try one out." Without another word he turned and followed the guard. Adrianna hurried to catch up.

Balthus and Adrianna stood next to the catapult on the eastern, or "green" wall. Balthus filled one of his special pots with water. The clay vessel resembled a giant stew pot. It was two feet in diameter and a foot deep with a handle on each side. The lid that screwed on with a half turn had an inch hole drilled into the center. When Balthus finished filling the pot with water, he screwed the lid on tight and jammed a dirty rag into the hole.

Balthus surveyed the catapult crew. "Ready?" The crew nodded and Balthus lifted his pot onto the catapult cradle and stepped back. Balthus pointed to the furthest of Rory's colored aiming stakes.

"Let's see how close you can get to the blue stake. See if you can drop the pot square on top of it." The catapult captain nodded and ordered the winding team to turn the windlass six turns. When they finished, he looked out over the catapult's arm one more time, then stepped on the release. The arm snapped up, tossing the pot high into the air. It landed several dozen yards past the blue stake and smashed with a big splash. Balthus thrust a fist in the air and grinned at Adrianna.

"Beggin' your pardon, Sir," said the captain. "It seems to be a bit lighter than a stone. If we could borrow one more of those pots we could get some stones the same weight. Then all the towers could practice without using up any more of your pots." The captain rubbed his chin. "You're planning to drop something stronger than water on them I hope."

Balthus nodded. "Yes. I told the Baron I would piss on his enemies, but I don't think my stream will reach all the way to the blue stakes – hence the pots." He glanced over and saw Dieya on the parapet watching them, then turned back to the captain. "I'll get you another." He gave Adrianna an excited hug and they joined Dieya.

"What are you two planning?" Dieya asked.

"Just taking care of your sanitation problem," said Balthus. "I figure we will hurl chamber pots at the Sevoal. That should discourage them. Have you worked out the waste solution, by the way?"

"Sort of," answered Dieya. "The current system has collection wagons pick up the waste and take it to underground cisterns. The liquid waste drains off into another cistern and when the solid has dried out some, they move it by wagon to a leech field several miles away."

"Now there's a job to avoid," said Adrianna.

Dieya smiled. "That job is filled by felons. It is used as a form of punishment here."

"Effective, too, I'll bet. Speak of the devil."

They looked down as waste wagons approached the gate.

"Yes," said Dieya. "I have asked the Baron to empty the cisterns in case of a prolonged siege. We should be all right for a month or so."

"And it has an inverse effect," said Balthus. "The shorter food becomes, the slower the cisterns will be filled."

"If that fails, then we can try your chamber pot method," Dieya said as he gestured to the catapult. "Seriously, what are the pots for?"

Balthus pursed his lips and looked around, clearly uncomfortable. "It's a surprise – can I let it go at that?"

Dieya nodded and glanced over Balthus' shoulder. "Speaking of surprises, is that Rory?" Rory, holding a shovel, sat next to the driver of the lead waste wagon.

"Rory," Balthus yelled down to him. "I can understand you pitching in, but damn man, enough is enough!" Rory just waved his shovel and didn't say a word.

"It seems all of you are full of surprises," said Dieya. "Bo had a team clearing back the woods and came up with a good way to reinforce the gates."

Balthus and Adrianna gave him their full attention. This was a problem they hadn't solved yet.

"We are going to erect two thick logs on the inside and to the sides of each gate." Dieya demonstrated with his hands. "They will be buried about ten feet deep and two feet back from the gate. We will have long tree trunks moved into position next to the gates. When we seal the town, we will lower the tree trunks between the gates and the upright logs. If they hack down the gates, they will find cutting through a wall of logs a bit tougher. Bo already has his men trimming the trees we will use."

Balthus grinned at Adrianna. "Great idea. We may get out of this alive after all."

CHAPTER 61

Rory stood on the green wall's parapet with his archer captains and watched Balthus and Adrianna climb the stairs to join him. The ever-present Oldwick and Hawke followed at their backs.

Rory looked into the town. The architects had the good sense not to allow any building closer than two hundred feet to any defending wall. Usually, this open area inside the walls served as a holding area for caravans, mercenary bands and an open air market in summer.

Now, a thousand archers stood at ground level, one hundred toeing a rough painted line on the cobblestones. The rest watched, awaiting their turn. Rory had split the archers who had answered the call into ten groups of one hundred each. He had chosen captains who had two main qualifications, the ability to lead and the ability to teach. He was bringing a new concept to archery warfare and knew it might be difficult for some of the men to accept.

"Good morning, Balthus," said Rory. "I see you two are up early this morning." He nodded to Adrianna.

"As are you," said Balthus.

Rory turned to his captains. "First we will try for the longest distance, the blue stakes, and work backwards."

Balthus placed an arm around Adrianna's waist and watched with interest.

Rory lifted a twelve-foot-long pole and placed one end on the edge of the parapet floor. At the very top, the pole had an eight-foot long crossbar painted red. Rory handed it to one of his captains to hold.

"All right, you boar herders!" roared Rory down at the assembled archers. "This shouldn't be too difficult an idea to grasp even with your tiny brains." He waited until he had their attention. "When the captain says 'draw,' draw and aim to fire just over the level of the red bar!" As he spoke, he paced the parapet, hands on his hips. "Don't just fire over the red bar, shoot at the same level as the red bar and straight at the wall in front of you." He spread his arms. "Pretend that the red bar extends all the way along the wall. I know you can pretend! You are pretending to be archers in my command instead of the ladies that you are!" That got a few laughs. He stopped pacing and faced the archers. "Do you want to kill the enemy?"

He was answered with cries of, "Yes, Sir!"

He cupped his ear and leaned forward. "I can't hear you!"

"Yes, Sir!" answered the archers at the top of their lungs.

Rory nodded. "I have given you a lot of don'ts. Here's a do. Do it right and the enemy will die! Die by the hundreds, die by the thousands. Die because of our arrows! Do what your captains tell you and not one of those sons o' bitches will reach the wall. Remember, you are shooting to kill your enemy before he can kill you, not poking sows with sticks or your pecker like most of you were doing last month." That got a few more laughs. "Do you have any questions?"

One young man held up a hand. "How are we supposed to kill the enemy when we can't see him?"

Rory stared down at him. "You don't need to see the enemy. You're supposed to do what we say. Do it right and the only enemies you will see will be dead ones. Any more questions?"

There were none.

Rory turned to the captain holding the pole and nodded. "Proceed."

The captain held up his arm and yelled, "Draw and aim!"

Balthus quickly turned his back to the archers, grabbed Adrianna, and pulled her down in front of him.

The captain brought his arm down sharply. "Loose!" A hundred arrows, released erratically, flew over the wall.

Rory looked out over the parapet and watched them land. "Terrible shot pattern." He approached the edge of the parapet and looked down. "Is this the meeting of the ladies' archery club?" he roared. "That was terrible! We will do this again. As a matter of fact, we will do this until we get it right, even if it means missing breakfast." He began to pace again. "And lunch and dinner!" He turned to his captain. "Again."

Balthus grabbed Adrianna's arm and they ran down the parapet steps.

"Draw and aim!" The captain again brought his arm down sharply. "Loose!" This time, the arrows flew as one. With a sharp 'thock', one of the arrows buried itself into the red bar.

Rory looked over the parapet and smiled. "Good distance, good grouping." He glanced up at the arrow sticking in the red bar, then looked down at the archers. "Which one of you knuckleheads just killed my red bar?"

The archers laughed.

Rory began to pace again. "We will try it again, and if I find who killed my red bar, I'll tie him up there and he will become the new red bar. Now let's do it again." He signaled to the captain.

They practiced for five more volleys before Rory smiled and nodded. He approached the parapet edge and looked down at his men. "Better. Now go out and collect your arrows and imagine being on the receiving end of that hail of death." Rory turned to the Captain. "Drill the next hundred when the men get back."

He climbed down the steps and joined Balthus and Adrianna as the men rushed past. "Sorry to worry you like that, but I knew none of these men would dare shoot you."

"I don't have your confidence," said Balthus. He waved his hand in the air. "What exactly is all this for?"

Rory smiled. "Massed fire. We will have ten ranks of archers shooting the same way as you have just seen. The exercise today is to find the right length of pole that matches the distance markers out on the field of approach. We will be making adjustable poles. The archery captains then note which colored marker the enemy is approaching, hoist the pole to the matching color mark and have his men fire. He'll adjust the pole as the enemy nears, that way the Sevoal will have to face massed fire all the way in.

Balthus shook his head in wonder. "May I make a suggestion? The weak link is your captain. All it takes is one trooper sneezing to send an arrow through him and your good idea. Place the captain behind a wooden shield and have him use colored flags to signal draw and fire. The men won't be able to hear him over the din of battle anyway, but they will see a flag."

Rory nodded. "Good idea. I'll put three men up there just in case one becomes... indisposed."

"This is a very clever idea, Rory," said Adrianna. "How did you think of it?"

Rory shook his head and smiled. "Sorry, Ma'am, but I can't take credit for it. This was something devised a long time ago to get poorly armed troops to fire at a single spot when trying to bring down flying airships."

Balthus stared at him for an instant then grabbed Rory's shoulder. "Flying air ships?" Balthus' voice rose an octave. "Rory, are you saying you have the means to fly in the air like a bird?"

Rory looked surprised for a second. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. You guys are such a part of our secret little group that I forget myself." He nodded. "Yes, we have learned to fly in the air. Not quite like a bird, but a lot faster."

Balthus covered his face with his hands for a moment, then dropped them, uncovering a huge grin. "It's the world of my imaginings! Just to know it exists fills me with awe. To fly like a bird has always been a dream of mine." He beamed at Adrianna. "Such a place, filled with wonders we have only imagined." He looked back to Rory. "Let's kill these pesky Sevoal so I can spend time talking Blackie into a visit to your world."

Rory laughed and held up his hands. "You're on your own with that one, Balthus. I want no part of that conversation."

"Not a problem, Rory. I'll just get him drunk. After all..." Balthus looked skyward, "it worked with you."

Rory punched him in the arm, shook his head and ran back up the stairs.

"Good man, that one," said Balthus to Adrianna. "Let's go see about some breakfast."

They were halfway to the citadel when they came across Bo leading a detail of about a hundred men. All carried scythes, shovels or axes.

"Bo," greeted Balthus. "Another tree-cutting detail?"

Bo stepped aside to let his men pass. "No, not quite."

"What then?" asked Adrianna.

A hard look swept over Bo's face. "These bastards have kept me from going home and injured a friend of mine. I figure it's time to get nasty. I am planning a little surprise for their arrival."

Balthus nodded. "Nasty is the only way to be in war. Get 'em!"

Bo saluted with his axe and jogged to catch up to his troopers.

"I think there are too many secrets around here," said Adrianna. "I hope we don't get in each other's way or work at cross-purposes."

"You're right, Love. It's time for secrets to be set aside. Let's call a council of war tonight with our little group." Adrianna nodded and they made their way to the citadel's dining hall.

Upon arriving, they heard Valerian's high-pitched voice over the babble of others at the main table. Dieya had done an excellent job of letting the Baron think he was running the show, and Valerian think the same thing. Dieya's logic, charm, magic, coercion, or all four quickly straightened out the few squabbles that had occurred.

Valerian sat next to the Baron and was promoting his cause, but the Baron was more interested in his sugared bun than Valerian's plea.

"I'm sure, Baron," droned Valerian, "that you see it my way. The savages' arrows might be able to pierce our armor but they will be too busy running away to fire any."

Balthus approached Valerian. "But what if even one of them finds the courage and lets fly with an unerring arrow?"

"Casualties are to be expected," chirped Valerian.

"Even if it's you?" said Balthus, biting into a biscuit.

The King's Champion stabbed his eating dagger into the table. "Damn it, man. It would almost be worth it! Death might be preferable than idling around here."

The air shimmered in the middle of the hall for an instant, then Dieya materialized. He walked toward the table. "You will not be inactive for long, Sir Valerian. The Sevoal are on the move."

"How many?" asked Balthus.

"More than expected." Dieya hesitated a moment. "Seventeen thousand."

His statement quieted the boisterous table.

"How long do we have, Dieya?" asked Balthus.

"Two, maybe three days at most."

Last-minute preparations filled the rest of the day. A fire broke out and enabled Bo to evaluate the fire squad he had trained. They limited the fire to one house and the squad was deemed a success.

It was already dark when Bo, Balthus, Adrianna, Rory and Dieya, or the "war council" as they dubbed themselves, came together for dinner in one of the Baron's private rooms.

Wanting to speak freely, Balthus had taken Oldwick aside and explained the need for privacy. The large man listened with narrowed eyes and a deeply furrowed brow, showing what he thought of the idea.

Balthus explained that the Sorcerer would be giving them secret commands from the King that no one else must hear. Appealing to Oldwick's loyalty had done the job. The giant didn't like it but he had agreed.

"We will be around you like smoke in the dark," said Oldwick. "You might smell us, but you won't see us." The arrangement worked well.

Rory was the last to arrive at the small stone-enclosed room. His face contained traces of black that his quick washing had missed. He was carrying a cheap metal pitcher with a mashed, flattened top.

"Rory, welcome," said Balthus. "No need to bring your own wine, we saved some for you."

Rory smiled, sat, and began eating without a word.

The meal was quieter than any of their others and soon finished. When the last plate was cleared, Balthus banged his tankard on the table for attention. "Friends, we have been going about, making our own preparations, and I think it's time we shared our secrets. Besides, Adrianna has pointed out to me that perhaps we might be working at cross-purposes."

"She always was smarter than you," said Rory, much to the delight of the table.

Balthus favored him with a raised eyebrow, then continued. "I will go first. You all know that I have spent some of Dieya's gold on pots. I received three wagonloads of goods. Only the first one held these." He stood, reached behind him and plopped an empty clay pot onto the table. He screwed on the lid and twisted a piece of cloth into the empty hole.

He lit the oil-treated cloth and it burned brightly. "The other wagons hold all the naphtha I could find."

A collective "Ahh" of realization arose from the table.

"Clever. A destructive weapon and a good delivery system," said Dieya.

"I thought we should save them for use against their siege engines – if they build any, that is," said Balthus. "If they don't, fire dropped from above might tend to discourage their archers."

Bo and Rory applauded and Balthus took a bow.

"Adrianna," said Balthus, "is it time for your disclosure?"

She nodded and stood. "I have been organizing the town's women into a medical force led by the Arvari hotara. We've made stretchers, rolled bandages, gathered herbs and collected medical tools. Many of the stronger women have volunteered for litter duty. We have several makeshift hospitals where we can bring the casualties. The town's remaining four doctors will be there when the attack starts."

Everyone applauded as Adrianna sat down. "Great for morale," said Rory. The group quieted and all looked toward Bo.

"What I've done is not as flashy nor as flammable as Balthus' weapon." Bo stood. "You might have noticed that we have cut down the tall grass about two hundred yards back from the walls. We also dug small holes about a foot in diameter and two-foot deep around the castle walls." He held up an inch-thick, sharply pointed stick. "These babies are planted in the bottom of each. We left the cut grass where it fell to cover the holes."

"Stake pits! Great idea, Bo," said Balthus. "It's so good I should have thought of it myself."

They hissed Balthus into silence.

Bo continued. "The staked area is only about a hundred feet wide but the holes will disable any mount that steps in one. The holes are not big enough to provide cover, just hurt them." He shrugged. "I have posted men so no one accidentally blunders into the field."

Applause followed Bo's statement and he sat down abruptly, his ears turning red.

"How about you, Rory?" said Adrianna. "You have been seen covered in black the last few days. You are up to something."

Rory stood. "Yes, I am. This is something that will first need approval from the Planetary Dieya." He dumped the contents of a small pouch onto the table, making a small mound of black powder.

Balthus studied it closely.

Bo looked amazed. "Where did you learn to make this, and where did you find the chemicals?"

Rory smiled. "It was the odors that got me on to it – the sulfur and the handy waste piles for nitrates. It was simple once I got past the smells." He shrugged. "I taught a course on planetary survival and guerilla training some years back."

Balthus stared at the black pile. "Sneezing powder?"

Rory ignored him and directed his speech to Dieya, who stared at the powder as if Rory had dumped offal on the table. "Dieya, I have mined this exclusively myself. No one knows the ingredients. I thought we could assemble the devices ourselves and call them 'The Sorcerer's Fist' or something on that order. Then it all will be put down to magic." He looked to Dieya, as did everyone else.

Balthus found it interesting to watch Dieya's face. He didn't know what the black powder was, but Dieya certainly did, and his reaction went from disbelief to anger to acceptance.

"Ye gods, Dieya," said Balthus, "it can't be that bad."

Dieya pointed his chin at a candle. "Show him," he said.

Rory took the candle and held it to the black powder. The small explosion of sound, light and smoke caused Balthus to leap up, knock over his chair and pull his sword halfway from its scabbard.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. He gingerly picked up his chair and reclaimed his seat.

"Progress, Balthus. Progress," said Dieya quietly.

"It's like what destroyed Dieya's base, but less powerful," said Rory.

"How is it used?" asked Balthus, smoothing his tunic. "It has to do more than frighten the heck out of someone."

Rory continued to address his remarks to Dieya. "Dieya, my delivery system works like this." He picked up the pitcher he had brought with him. "I bought one hundred of these cheap tin pitchers from one of the merchants who was leaving town. I have nails embedded in parchment running around the inside of the pitcher. You mash the top like this one and pour powder in through the spout. Then you crimp the spout around a fuse and you have instant grenade. I figure we could toss them down at the base of the walls when the Sevoal try to scale them."

"Have you assembled a grenadier squad yet?" asked Dieya.

"No. Not yet."

Dieya sat in though for several moments. "I had hoped to be in my grave a hundred years before the stench of cordite polluted Ravar." He sighed. "This is a minor infraction compared to what will happen if the Kraken win here." He sat forward. "Strikedag, you have done a fine job. These are now called the 'Sorcerer's Fists.' Assemble your grenadiers."

Balthus sat, stroking his beard, waiting until the matter between Rory and Dieya was settled. "What exactly does this 'Sorcerer's Fist' do?" he asked.

"You saw how the powder burned quickly and violently?" asked Dieya.

Balthus nodded.

"When contained within something, the burning powder's violence has nowhere to go but out. It will blow the pitcher apart along with the nails on the inside. Anyone within – " He looked at Rory.

"Seven to ten feet."

"– seven to ten feet will most likely take some damage."

"Ye gods!" said Balthus. He looked at each of the men not born on his world. "With each wonderful invention on your world comes a balance of something terrible." He shook his head and took a long drink of wine.

CHAPTER 62

The next two days inside the walls were ones of hurried tension. Time was short and all pitched in with fervor. By the end of the second day, Balthus thought they were as ready as they could be. The weather had stayed warm and clear, but the sun hadn't dispelled the growing cold Balthus detected in the bellies of the men.

As Balthus drilled a pot crew, one of the men on the east wall yelled, "What is that sound? Can you hear that?" All activity ceased and every man rushed to the crenellations. Silence fell like a dark cloud and apprehension filled the air.

Balthus leaned out and cupped his ear. "Yes. Now I hear it." The sound grew louder. "It sounds like drumming, but not quite."

"There!" yelled a guard as he pointed to the ridge at the far end of the valley. Almost as one, a line of mounted Sevoal riders, at least five hundred abreast, crested the ridge. In unison they banged their wartanga bows on their shields once, then held silent for five counts, then they beat their shields again, repeating the process. The sound increased as another line of Sevoal rode down into the valley and moved inexorably closer to the walls. The drumming volume grew as more and more warriors flooded the valley.

The defenders stood silently watching the display. Balthus felt fear infecting the men. The shield-pounding and the sheer numbers of Sevoal were working on the minds of the defenders.

"The more those fools bang their shields, the easier it will be for us to break them apart!" he yelled. No one paid him any attention. He looked at the faces of his men and saw the fight going out of them.

Balthus jumped atop the wall, faced his troops and loudly began a long and bawdy limerick that had the same rhythm as the pounding beat of the Sevoal. He leapt from merlon to merlon shouting the words to the troops lining the walls. To emphasize a point in the limerick, he bent over and pretended the Sevoal's drumbeat was flatulence. This earned him so much laughter he repeated it at every "bang," using it for punctuation. The original words to the limerick were long over and Balthus feverishly invented nasty lyrics about the Sevoal. The troops were laughing, their attention on Balthus and not on the enemy. Finally, the entire Sevoal force had entered the valley, and as one, the beating stopped.

Still standing on a merlon, Balthus turned and faced the Sevoal horde. "Hey!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Why did you stop? Couldn't take it any more, huh?" He faced his troops. "If they can't take a little ribbing, they are really going to hate what we do to them tomorrow, right men?"

The troops cheered and Balthus jumped down off the wall. Men patted him on the back as he walked to Adrianna, grinning.

"Well, it took a siege to finally get you what you have always wanted," she said.

"What's that?"

"A captive audience."

Balthus threw back his head and laughed. "It certainly was tiring. Let's find some wine!"

The men spent rest of the day watching the enemy set up camp. By evening, a sea of Sevoal campfires blended into the stars of the grassland's night sky, giving the impression of endlessness.

Balthus, Adrianna and Rory were in the citadel with Dieya, going over last minute details, when a messenger arrived and motioned to Balthus.

"What's up, Lad?"

"Sir, Captain Queekal asks for your presence on the green parapet."

Balthus glanced at Dieya and Rory. "If Queekal wants me, it must be important."

"We'll accompany you," said Dieya.

"Lead on, Sir Bard," said Rory.

Balthus took a step then stopped and sighed. "It was a good idea at the time, but the story has grown with the telling and I seem like a total ass!"

"You're half right," said Adrianna as she followed the messenger.

Balthus stopped in thought for a moment. "Hey!" he said, then ran to catch up.

"What's up, Queekal?" asked Balthus.

"Perhaps your ears are better than mine," said Captain Queekal. "Wait while I quiet the men." He passed the word for silence. "Now listen. I think I hear the sound of digging, but I'm not sure." Everyone leaned over the wall and cupped an ear.

"Yes, sounds like digging," said Balthus.

"No question about it," said Dieya.

"Tunneling under the walls?" asked Rory.

"No, I don't think so," said Dieya. "They could have started much closer if they were going to try that. The Sevoal have never dug anything deeper than a fire pit, so I can't see them tunneling." Dieya thought for a moment. "But they have been ahead of me the whole time..." His face hardened. "I'll make sure they're not this time." He stepped back from the group and vanished.

Captain Queekal jumped back, causing a ripple effect on the men behind him. He shrugged. "I forgot he is a sorcerer. I had a nice conversation with him one long night's watch several days ago. He seemed like a normal man."

Balthus peered over the wall. "There is nothing normal about our Sorcerer, believe me."

For about twenty minutes they stood watch, occasionally glancing over the wall. Suddenly, Dieya reappeared in their midst.

"What ho, Dieya?" asked Balthus.

Dieya shook his head. "I don't know. They are not digging tunnels. They seem to be erecting a large mound. It is as near the castle as can be and still be out of catapult range. The horde is camped behind it. I think we will have to wait until dawn to see what it's for."

Dawn found all the castle leaders back at the green wall, waiting for enough light to see what the Sevoal had accomplished during the night. The sun peeked over the eastern ridge to shine on a huge mound of earth. The mound stood about ten feet higher than the plain with the top leveled off. Rugs lay on the leveled area and four tall poles held up a large decorated cloth, creating a sunshade.

A single man sat crossed-legged on the rugs in the center of the pavilion. He sat unmoving until the sun crested the ridge. When the first rays of light struck him, he stood, faced the sun and spread his arms as if to embrace it. "Wa –ta Ocaow, Wa –ta! Wa –ta Ocaow, Wa –ta!" His voice thundered across the plain.

Thousands of voices from the sea of warriors joined him in celebrating the rising of the sun. He closed his arms and the chanting stopped.

"That must be the head man," said Balthus.

Dieya nodded. "He's the Kraken agent. I'm sure of it."

"Is it a trick of the light or is that man huge?"

"No trick. He is very large." Dieya pointed to the sunshade. "Do you recognize the cloth he is using for his sun screen?"

Balthus stared out at the pavilion. "Nooo, can't say as I do."

"I'm sure the meaning hasn't been lost on many in this castle. Look at Baron Genardt."

The Baron, teeth bared and fists clenched in rage, scowled at the pavilion.

"It is the flag of Eastedge Stronghold," said Dieya. "We are being reminded of the Sevoal's last victory."

"It seems to me," said Balthus, stroking his chin, "if they were that assured of victory here, they wouldn't need to try to demoralize us."

Dieya smiled and nodded. "Yes, and that raises my confidence."

The Sevoal leader was now gesturing to the castle walls, his words sounding like the barking of a far away grot.

"Can you make out what he's saying, Dieya?" asked Balthus.

"Yes. We are fouling their earth with our presence and it must be cleansed with our blood."

"Seems a bit extreme." Balthus sighed. "There is nothing worse than a religious fanatic who thinks his way is the only way, and that he has God's leave to force you to see it his way. It is the worst kind of insanity."

Dieya nodded. "On many worlds religion is an ugly plateau before humans move toward true peace and realization."

The Sevoal leader soon ceased his sermon and strode off his mound. Two riders led an ehta to him and the leader mounted. As the three rode toward the castle, the Sevoal leader leaned down and pulled a sheaf of grass out of the ground. He held it over his head as they rode. They stopped just out of bow range and waited.

"What is the savage doing?" asked the Baron.

"That is the Sevoal signal to parley," said Dieya.

"He probably wants us to surrender," said Bo.

"More likely he saw Balthus' little show yesterday and they want to surrender," said a grinning Rory.

Balthus let out a large sigh.

"I request you accompany me to converse with this savage, Sir Sorcerer," said the Baron, moving to the stairs.

"Baron, I would suggest that Sir Valerian, myself and one other go. This may be a ruse to kill whoever meets them. They are savages, as you pointed out."

The Baron jerked to a stop in mid-stride and stared at Dieya. "If you think that is the wisest course, Sir Sorcerer." Relief painted his face.

"Yes, I do. If it is a trick, we will need you to direct the defense of the castle."

"Of course, of course," said the Baron, waving his hand. "You have my leave to go."

"I'll go with you, Dieya," said Balthus. Dieya raised an eyebrow and Balthus shrugged. "I'd like to get a closer look at our real enemy."

Dieya nodded and the three of them started down the stairs.

Oldwick stopped Balthus with a large hand on his shoulder. "No. It is not safe."

"I represent the King, Oldwick. It is my duty." Balthus shrugged off Oldwick's hand. "Don't worry. I will still be around to finish our... discussion."

"See that you are." Oldwick stepped aside.

Luses were saddled and ready for them by the time the log barricades had been moved from the gate. The three rode toward the waiting Sevoal and the closer they advanced to the encampment, the more imposing the Sevoal numbers became.

"I feel awfully naked out here," said Balthus. No one commented, but he knew they felt the same.

They halted a dozen paces from the Sevoal leaders and Balthus evaluated the three mounted men. None carried any weapons. The men flanking the leader wore loincloths and necklaces of bone. Each had his forehead and chin stained red. The one on the right was fat and sat his ehta poorly and had the cruel face of a sadist. The toned-muscled Sevoal on the left sat his mount as if born to it. Their leader in the center also wore a loincloth and carried a small pouch at his waist. His entire face was painted red with the exception of a strip across the eyes.

It was obvious why this man was the leader. He was the largest man Balthus had ever seen, with bulging muscles that seemed hard-packed onto his huge frame. His body oozed charisma, but it faded when Balthus looked at his face. His disdainful look and smug smile made him someone Balthus wanted to hurt, not follow.

The leader handed the sheaf of grass to his fat cohort and looked at Dieya. "So, we meet at last, black one. I am Ta'Lon, Ocaow reborn."

"No," said Dieya. "We know who you really are, and we will stop you."

The Sevoal snorted. "You Aberrations will never stop me."

"Aberrations? Why are we the aberrations? It is you who has strayed from humanity to be a pawn of your masters."

Ta'Lon's knuckles whitened as his fist tightened on the reins. "It is you who pollute the universe with your very existence," he said, spitting out the words. "My lords are the only true rulers of this creation! Those not under their mastery are aberrations!"

"Have you ever even seen your masters?" said Dieya.

Ta'Lon jerked his reins and glared at Dieya.

Dieya leaned forward. "You are the one polluting this world with your war, serving masters you've never seen."

"I have seen enough. Enough to know what is true!" The Sevoal leader calmed down with effort. "But I have not come here to discuss this. I have come to offer you life instead of death."

"You will find nothing but death at the point of our lances!" said Valerian, unable to contain himself any longer.

Dieya held up a hand. "You offer our lives in exchange for what?"

The Sevoal leader displayed his most charming smile. "The Sevoal need workers to tend to our warriors' needs. If you lay down your arms you will not be harmed."

Balthus laughed loudly. "Exchange our swords for slavery?"

The mask of charm fell from Ta'Lon's face. "They will be exchanged for labor, or exchanged for death!"

"Is this all you have to say, Ta'Lon?" asked Dieya.

Ta'Lon smiled again. "I want your people to hear my benevolent proposal." He raised himself up on his ehta and shouted over Dieya's head. His voice, unnaturally loud, carried easily to the castle walls.

"Defenders of Glendell Castle, lay down your weapons and come to us. You will not be harmed. We need willing servants to aid our cause. Come to us! You will not be harmed. Do not listen to your leaders. Strike them down and come out!"

Ta'Lon's volume shocked Balthus. No mortal man could speak so loudly.

Dieya smiled, raised himself on his luse and spoke over Ta'Lon's head.

"People of the Sevoal!" his voice roared out as loud as Ta'Lon's had. "You –"Suddenly his volume dropped to that of a normal man's. He stumbled on for a few more words then stopped.

The grinning Sevoal leader held a small box in his hand. "Your power is gone, Aberration. I tell you again, be our slaves or die!"

"We will still defeat you," said Dieya, but he was obviously shaken.

Ta'Lon smiled a smug, superior grin. "You Aberrations are so predictable." With that, he wheeled his ehta and the Sevoal contingent rode back toward their lines.

"Dieya, are you all right?" asked Balthus.

A pale Dieya sat slumped on his luse, staring at the ground. "No," he said, as he turned to ride back to the castle.

Balthus and Valerian followed.

They had time to enter the castle and mount the parapet before the Sevoal were on the move.

"Dieya," said Balthus, running to catch up to him, "what happened back there?" Dieya continued to walk away. "Dieya!" yelled Balthus.

Dieya stopped and turned. Adrianna, Rory and Bo joined Balthus. Dieya looked at the ground and spoke softly. "He must have a large field dampener out there, somewhere."

Bo and Rory grunted.

"What does that mean?" demanded Balthus.

Dieya looked up. "It means they have nullified my power. I can't use my dimgate, I can't use my lasers, and I can't heal anyone!" He looked devastated. "I was counting on my lasers to frighten the Sevoal into retreating."

"Dieya," said Rory, "how about your internals?"

Dieya closed his eyes for a moment. "They're all right. My reflex chip is shielded and unaffected."

"Does that mean you can still fight?" asked Adrianna.

He looked her in the eye. "Yes. Yes I can. My speed and strength are unaffected."

"So that means you are still the fastest and strongest man on the planet, eh?" asked Balthus.

Dieya nodded.

"And you have only yourself and your friends to depend on, eh?" continued Balthus.

Again Dieya nodded.

Balthus placed a hand on Dieya's shoulder and squeezed. "Welcome to our world."

Dieya was lost in thought for a moment then he shrugged. "It'll take me a while to adjust."

"Get used to it quick," said Bo. "Here they come!"

The mounted Sevoal approached the wall in triangular units, fifty men in front narrowing to a single man at the rear.

"I've never seen a formation like that before," said Balthus.

"I have!" shouted Rory. "Dieya! This is a feint! The most logical place to attack with a quick rush would be the section of wall closest to the forest. It must be reinforced quickly."

"Where have you seen that formation before?" asked Dieya.

"On Duebuy. Battle droids used that formation on us when they pulled a feint."

Dieya snapped into action. "Erondil!" he shouted as his eyes roamed over the parapet. Erondil came running.

"Yes, Laere-Tere!"

"Take your men and go quickly to the orange parapet. Keep your men down and out of sight."

The Arvari ran to comply.

"Rory. Take the larger group of archers from the green wall and set up your massed fire on the orange wall."

Rory nodded and sped away.

"Bo we may need a flying squad on the orange wall to repel attackers."

"I'm on it!" he said and ran down the stairs.

"Balthus!" said Dieya, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If this isn't a feint..."

"I know," said Balthus. "We'll handle it."

Dieya nodded and left at a run.

Balthus peered over the wall at the advancing horde. The Sevoal had stopped just behind the mound and waited as Ta'Lon stood under his pavilion, arms crossed.

"Look," said Adrianna. "They ride carrying their shields. I bet Rory is correct and this is a feint. They can't use their shields and bows effectively together."

"I hope so," Balthus answered. "There are an awful lot of them to try to stop if they hit this wall while our archers and reserves are on the orange wall."

On the mound, a runner approached Ta'Lon, spoke with him briefly, then retreated. The Sevoal leader walked to the front of the mound, faced the castle wall and raised a hand. He held it in the air for a moment, then brought it down sharply.

With a sudden howling that echoed off the walls, the Sevoal charged. All eyes on the wall were glued to the mass of riders bearing down on them. The thundering hooves of their ehtas lent a heart-stopping undertone to the Sevoal battle cry. Hands tightened on swords and mouths went dry.

The Sevoal continued their charge, then reined in just beyond archer range. Their battle cry ceased.

"It is a feint!" said Balthus. It was then they heard shouts from the orange wall. Balthus gripped Adrianna's shoulder.

Dieya, Rory and Erondil were staring over the orange wall when they heard the Sevoal war cry and the pounding of ehta hooves from the east. There was no activity at the orange wall. "Uh-oh," said Rory. "I'm getting a sick feeling in my stomach. If I was wrong we're in for it."

"No!" said Dieya. "Look!" There were men creeping among the trees. "There!" he pointed. "They're coming on foot. Make ready."

A horde of screaming Sevoal warriors erupted from the forest. Others had crawled closer during the night and covered themselves with the cut grass. Throwing off their coverings, they rushed the walls ahead of their brothers, swinging grappling hooks as they ran. More Sevoal emerged from the forest carrying notched climbing poles.

"I'm glad we cut back the forest," Rory said to Dieya.

When the Sevoal reached the first marker, Rory nodded and the flagman brought down his flag. With a loud thrum, a black swarm of arrows launched over the wall and fell on the advancing horde. Seconds later another swarm buzzed overhead. Sevoal warriors dropped by the scores as death rained from the sky. More arrows flew over the wall to fall into the packed ranks of the charging Sevoal. The defenders fired three more volleys before the Sevoal were inside their range.

The charging warriors' blood was up and they didn't realize their numbers had been decimated from the massed arrow attack. Rory turned to Erondil. "They're yours."

Erondil nodded. He had placed one of his archers at every other crenel. There was no covering fire from the enemy and his men could fire unimpeded. "Leot!" he shouted. His archers rose from behind the parapet and fired down at the Sevoal. The woodland folk picked their targets with impunity and they rarely missed. There were just a hundred Arvari, but with every release a hundred Sevoal died. The charge was only minutes old when the Sevoal had had enough. The Arvari continued to fire at the fleeing Sevoal.

"That's set them running, Erondil. That's enough," said Dieya.

"No, Laere-Tere, it is not enough. These are the men who killed our brothers and burned our sacred grove. It will never be enough." He turned to his men and shouted, "Ey leot!" The woodland archers continued to fire until there wasn't a moving Sevoal in sight. Erondil looked at the dead strewn over the battlefield and nodded once in satisfaction.

"We held them!" shouted Rory down to his men. Cheers erupted from the archers which the defenders on the parapet echoed.

Dieya looked over the field of fallen. He estimated over two thousand Sevoal warriors lay dead. He felt elation and grief warring inside him. Grief for the slain people tricked into this war and elation at surviving combat.

Balthus ran up the stairs and peered over the wall. "Got the bastards on that one. Good! Let's get the men back to the green wall in case they try us there. Good job." He patted Rory on the shoulder and left at a run.

Rory assembled his men and they trotted to their new positions. Erondil's archers moved down the stairs.

Dieya continued to stare at the mass of dead.

Balthus jumped atop a merlon on the green wall and yelled to his troops, "We stopped them cold. We killed thousands and not a man of ours was hurt! We can keep on killing them until there are none left."

The troops waved their weapons in the air and cheered.

"Hey, Balthus," yelled one of his troopers, "while you're up there, how about another song?"

Balthus laughed. "Maybe when we are finished with these morons," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. He looked over his men. "I know who said that, and I am sure he just wants to see me bend over." Balthus jumped down from the wall amid raucous laughter. With a loss like the Sevoal had just suffered, he doubted they would attack again anytime soon.

He was wrong.

Shortly after noon the Sevoal massed again outside the green wall. The Sevoal didn't bother with any formations this time. They just massed outside catapult range and waited.

Balthus glanced down at Rory's archers. They were ready and standing firm. He did a quick check to see that the crews who had been issued poles to push away scaling ladders were ready.

Balthus looked at Adrianna and placed his left arm through his shield straps. He checked her armor and fittings and she checked his. They tested the fit of their shields by smashing them against one another several times. Adrianna nodded, as did Balthus. All was as ready as it ever would be.

Balthus glanced over the wall and saw the Sevoal leader standing on his mound once again with his arm raised. "All right, men," Balthus yelled, drawing his sword. "Send them to hell!"

The Sevoal leader dropped his arm. The massed horde again howled their battle cries and spurred their ehtas to a gallop. There was no halting this time. The Sevoal rode hard toward the wall, their shields raised over their heads.

"Loose!" yelled Rory. A flag was raised and a flight of arrows darkened the sky. Rory's archers had learned fast. Before the first flight rained on the rushing Sevoal, another was launched. Rory quickly adjusted the range and his flagman lowered his flag again. Another volley of whistling death took flight.

The catapults in the center and on the corners launched baskets of fist-sized rocks at the charging horde. The Sevoals' hide shields gave them scant protection and offered their ehtas none. Ehtas pierced by arrows crumpled in heaps, throwing their riders into the dust. But with their speed and larger force, the Sevoal would make it to the wall this time.

Dieya had armed himself with two short, razor-sharp swords from the Baron's armory. He pulled them out of his belt. "Time, Rory," yelled Dieya.

Rory nodded and waved a red flag, signaling that massed fire was over. His archers turned in ranks and filed up the stairs to the parapets, taking up their positions as they had practiced.

"Free fire!" yelled Rory. "Free fire!" The archers fired down at individual targets. At this point, the charging Sevoal encountered the first of many stake pits. Riders were thrown and ehtas went down with horrible leg-popping sounds and pitiful screams. As the Sevoal came within range, they discarded their shields and fired arrows at the defenders.

A Sevoal warrior lived by his ability to shoot accurately from a moving ehta and their competence showed as defenders suddenly sprouted red arrows and fell backwards. Others quickly replaced the wounded men but the toll mounted.

Dieya spied rows of charging Sevoal riders carrying ladders between them.

"Erondil!" yelled Dieya over the cries of wounded men and dying animals. Erondil ran to Dieya and turned his ear toward him. "Shoot for ones carrying scaling ladders!"

Erondil nodded and ran down the parapet spreading the word to his Arvari archers.

Dieya peered over the wall and an arrow whizzed by his head. Ladder carriers were beginning to fall. Downing one man in the team made them ineffective, but as he watched, lone riders would take up where one of the team went down and the rush to the wall continued. The Sevoal had planned well. The stake pits and the defenders' arrows caused many casualties, but it wouldn't be enough to halt the charge.

The carriers reached the walls and raised their scaling ladders. Rory's archers had to lean out to shoot and this made them larger targets for the Sevoal archers.

A wave of Sevoal leapt from their ehtas and rushed to the wall. They stood at the base of the wall shooting up at anyone who showed a head. Their fire was as accurate as the Arvari's.

A steady stream of wounded flowed down the stairs, carried by the female litter bearers. Dieya gave silent thanks to Adrianna.

Another wave of Sevoal hit the wall, dismounted at a gallop and ran for the ladders. Sevoal ladders were raised at a faster rate than could be repelled. Teams of Sevoal held onto the base of the ladders while their colleagues raced up. A Sevoal warrior reached the top of the wall and screamed a war cry as he waved his axe. An arrow appeared in his chest, cutting his exultation short, and he dropped to the ground.

Another wave of riders arrived, each carrying an arrow already blazing with fire. They dismounted, lit a bundle full of arrows and launched them far over the walls. When their arrows were expended, they dropped their bows, drew their axes and ran screaming toward the ladders.

Smoke and fire rose from the town but Bo's fire crews were already at work. They doused most of the fire arrows before they could catch, and rapidly extinguished any small fires.

Sevoal warriors making it to the parapet were quickly slain, but their deaths allowed more warriors to climb onto the parapet. As the defenders battled them, more climbed up behind. On the left Dieya saw a section where the invaders had gained a foothold.

"Valerian!" he shouted. He spun the knight around and pointed to the weak spot. "There!" he said, and pushed him toward the ever-increasing mass of invaders.

Dieya had planned to use the armored knights as shock troops for just this situation. An unarmored Sevoal warrior carrying only an axe was no match for an armored knight. The knights charged, smashing into the Sevoal and driving them back. Several Sevoal attacked a knight by diving for his legs and knocking him down. Once down, the Sevoal used their steel axes on the joints of the knight's armor.

Dieya peered over the wall; the invaders were packed tightly beneath him.

"Rory!" yelled Dieya. "Grenadiers!"

Rory nodded, hacked down a Sevoal with his axe, then signaled to his waiting men. There were only twenty grenadiers. Each carried three to four "Sorcerer's Fists" and had a smoldering piece of rope thrust into his belt. Scurrying along the parapets, the men lit their grenades and tossed them over the walls at ten-foot intervals.

The explosions were catastrophic for the Sevoal massed at the bottom of the wall. The flash and noise of the explosions stalled their frenzied rush to climb the ladders and the shrapnel from the rain of grenades ripped bloody holes in their tightly-packed clusters.

When the third group of grenades thundered into the milling horde, the Sevoal broke, running madly back toward their own lines. Without support, the invaders who had gained a foothold on the parapets were quickly cut down.

Balthus looked over the wall at the streaming mass of Sevoal. "Archers!" he cried. "Pick your targets!" The archers again advanced to the wall and fired at the retreating horde. "Erondil!" The Arvari ran to Balthus' side. "Your bows have a greater range than ours. Kill as many as you can!"

Erondil nodded grimly.

Dieya gazed out over the still-smoking town, then at the wounded waiting for care. Looked into the faces of the men who had defended the walls, he saw fatigue and pain but no fear. They seemed to move in slow motion. He gazed over the wall to the carnage at the base. Moans filled his ears and smoke stung his eyes. Sevoal bodies were stacked three or four high in places. Over the plain, bodies of men and ehtas littered the field for two hundred yards. He felt nothing. He was surprised at his lack of feelings. He didn't even feel relief that the attack was over.

Dieya looked outward toward the mound the Sevoal had raised. Ta'Lon still stood as he had since the battle began. As the last of his beaten men passed the mound, he turned his back on the castle and sat down cross-legged, overlooking his camp. Watching the Sevoal leader, Dieya realized that he finally did feel something – hate.

"Dieya," said Balthus, shaking his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Dieya turned and stared as if seeing him for the first time. Sweat rivulets had made tracks down Balthus' dirty face. He had blood spattered on his armor and his shield had two broken red arrows sticking in it, but he was unharmed.

"Adrianna?" questioned Dieya.

"She's fine. Bo and Rory as well." He looked out over the field. "Well, we held them. It was hard, but we held. That's all that matters now." Balthus was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. "Do you think there will be any more attacks today?"

Dieya looked at the setting sun. He hadn't realized that the battle had taken all afternoon. If asked, he would have said only minutes had passed. "No," he said, looking again over the field of carnage, "I think they have had enough for today."

Balthus surveyed the battlefield. "I have been in war before, but this kind of slaughter turns a man's stomach. How many do you think we killed?"

Dieya let his eyes roam over the field, allowing his enhanced senses to give him a quick estimate. "I'd say a little over four thousand here and two thousand on the orange wall."

"We have chopped his army down by a third in one day. That has to give the Sevoal pause before they try it again."

"Oh, they'll try it again. The question is how and when." Dieya looked away from the plain of death. "How about our own losses?"

"About four hundred archers and three hundred swordsmen are down. The good news is that more than two-thirds of them will recover. Many owe their lives to Adrianna's medical teams, who got to them soon after they were wounded."

"She has done us all a great service," said Dieya.

"Yes," said Balthus. "Now all we have to do is keep these scum off our backs until our men have had have a chance to recover."

Dieya nodded and stared out over the battlefield.

Balthus made the rounds with the water bearers. Going from group to group, he praised the men, patted their backs or commiserated with them over the loss of a friend. It was late in the evening when he joined the "war council" for supper and he was the last to arrive.

"Balthus," said Bo, "I though for a while you weren't going to join us tonight."

"What? And leave all the wine for you? Not a chance." He sat down and drained his mug. Adrianna refilled it for him. He laid a hand on her neck and squeezed gently.

"I don't know about anybody else but I'm beat," announced Rory. He looked years older than he had that morning.

"Rory, you look terrible," said Balthus.

"I should. This is the first time I've been in a battle without a battlesuit regulating my adrenaline output. It takes a toll on a man after a day-long battle."

"Battlesuit? Adrenaline? I love it when you talk dirty," Balthus said, and took a huge bite out of a boar chop.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about you misinformed primitives." Rory glanced at Dieya, then started his explanation. "A battlesuit is our version of armor and adrenaline is what is produced in your body when your blood is up. When your adrenaline levels are up for too long a time, they tire out the body. The suit regulates that."

"You're saying that you get tired when you fight?" Balthus looked at Adrianna, then back to Rory. "Thousands of years of science and you just figured that out? And you call me a primitive!" He went back to attacking his food.

"What are your thoughts on tomorrow, Dieya?" asked Adrianna. "Will the Sevoal come again?"

Dieya put down his wineglass and thought for a moment. "They will come again. They must. The Kraken have too much at stake to quit now. I don't think Ta'Lon can quit."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Dieya sat forward, held his wine cup in both hands, and gazed into it. "I think he is my counterpart."

"Counterpart?" asked Balthus.

Dieya looked up from his cup. "I think his job on this planet is the opposite from mine. He has probably been given the same physical abilities I have. And I'm sure he has been given an edict as I have. I try to protect the people of Ravar. He tries to harm them. I think the Kraken have heard of the Planetary Dieya Corps and have started their own malevolent version. This could be a pilot program for further infiltrations on other worlds. Although my chip enhances my abilities, my choices are my own. I have looked into the Kraken agent's eyes. He has no choice but to continue. It's programmed in."

"You mean he is under some kind of spell?" asked Balthus.

"Yes, you could put it that way."

"But why do they want to increase human misery? To what purpose?" asked Adrianna.

"If we knew that, I think we would have the answer to this whole mystery." They finished their suppers quietly, each lost in their own reflections of the day.

CHAPTER 63

The next morning found them all on the wall watching the Sevoal camp. An uneventful night had passed. The troops manning the walls appeared tired, but in fair spirits. No one could have been unaffected by yesterday's slaughter. No one, that is, except Eli Hawke.

Balthus found Hawke waiting for him when he mounted the stairs to the parapet. Balthus nodded to him as he walked by. Hawke stopped him with a hand placed on his chest.

Balthus looked first at the hand on his chest, then at Hawke. "What do you want?"

Hawke lowered his hand. "We have to talk."

"All right, come with me and have your say." Balthus walked down the parapet nodding and smiling to his troopers.

"The Sevoal are building siege equipment on the other side of the rise."

Balthus stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Hawke. "How do you know?"

"I went for a little walk last night and saw them beginning construction. They have wagons lashed together for movable bases and are constructing towers."

Balthus found it hard to believe what he was hearing. No man would voluntarily scout the Sevoal without orders.

"You went for a little walk, eh? I know it wasn't to calm your nerves because you don't have any. How and why did you go?"

Hawke shrugged. "A rope over the red wall. I wanted to get a closer look at a Sevoal camp. They are very careless. There were no guards; I guess they expected their grots to wake them, but the beasts were busy feeding on the dead."

"Learn anything else?" asked Balthus.

"Yes. They die just like normal men."

Balthus felt compelled to ask. "Did you kill many?"

"Oh, about eighteen or nineteen. Only the last four were awake, though. They raised a fuss and I had to leave."

Balthus closed his eyes and tried to shake the vision from his mind. He felt he needed to wash up again, but Hawke always made him feel that way. "Well, thanks for the information. I'd better go and let the Sorcerer know." He turned on his heel and quickly walked away.

He would never like nor understand Eli Hawke.

CHAPTER 64

The day passed quietly and word spread that the Sevoal were busy making siege towers. This respite allowed the men to repair their gear, sharpen their weapons and think about next time.

The worst detail was body removal. Balthus saw Dieya and Bo gathering a group of men for the job and decided to give them the benefit of his combat experience.

"Dieya, why clean up the bodies? I say let them rot at the walls! It will give the next attackers pause when then see their dead friends, bloated, stinking, covered with maggots and – " The black look on Dieya's face halted his harangue.

"These people are not the enemy – they were only misled by our real foe. We will treat them honorably!"

Dieya spoke with such vehemence that Balthus involuntarily stepped back and held up a hand. "As you say, Dieya," he said softly.

The cleanup crews carried the bodies to the remains of the forest they had cut down a few days before. There they erected pyres from the cut logs and placed the Sevoal bodies and their own dead on top.

Balthus expected trouble from the enemy when this work commenced, but after the Sevoal saw what the defenders were doing, dozens of unarmed Sevoal approached to aid in the work. After a while it was common to see leather-armored swordsmen working side by side with bare-chested Sevoal warriors.

Balthus stood next to Rory on the parapet and watched the gruesome work. "It never ceases to amaze me how stupid war is," said Balthus.

Rory nodded. "Yes, but at least there are enemy bodies. The only time I've been on details like this the dead were all our own people. The Kraken I've faced are just metal men with no life." He sighed. "I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

The work took all day and at dusk, the funeral pyres were lit. Flames reached high into the night sky and burned for hours. Hundreds of Sevoal walked to the pyres and stood with arms outstretched to the sky.

Balthus and Dieya watched the orange firelight cast an uneven glow on the clustered Sevoal. As the flames climbed high, the Sevoal began to sing a simple dirge for their fallen friends.

"The Sevoal believe the sparks that fly up to heaven are the souls of their dead. The brighter the spark, the braver the warrior," said Dieya.

"Who knows..." Balthus leaned on the wall and gazed at the scene, lost in thought. "They might be right."

The two stood side by side watching until the fires burned low and the Sevoal returned to their mutalehs.

CHAPTER 65

The morning of the third day of the siege, increased activity was reported in the Sevoal camp. The sky was once again clear, cloudless, and warming early, hinting of a hot summer to come.

Dieya, Bo and Rory watched the Sevoal leader from the parapet. Ta'Lon had risen from his cross-legged position and was extolling his troops.

"Can you hear what he is saying?" said Bo to Dieya.

"A little. He is telling them today will be a great victory. What I am glad to hear is that his voice is normal. The field dampener has affected his enhanced vocals, same as me. When we meet today, it will be as equals."

"Do you think this will end today?" asked Bo.

Dieya nodded.

"Dieya," said Rory, "if you fight Ta'Lon personally, remember that you may have equal enhancements, but he has size, reach, and a lot more weight than you. Take him down any way you can – there is no such thing as fair in war."

Dieya regarded the Human Alliance Strikedag, and saw a man who had been in a hundred fights. He would heed his advice. He patted Rory on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dagger. I will remember that."

Balthus and Adrianna had slept late and were the last to arrive at the green parapet. Dieya, Bo and Rory turned to greet them.

"We wondered if you two were going to make an appearance today," said Bo.

Balthus stretched and yawned. "We were thinking of skipping today's battle and sleeping in. Maybe just wait for the victory celebration. I'm sure the three of you can handle them."

"Of course we can," said Rory, "but we need you in case someone needs a song and dance."

Balthus snorted and rolled his eyes. "Am I ever going to live that down?"

All three shook their heads.

"Here they come!" yelled someone to the left.

The tops of three tall towers rose slowly over the ridge. The towers were ten feet taller than the castle walls and constructed atop reinforced wagons lashed together. Wartanga skins covered most of each structure. A large shed attached to the back of the towers' bases gave arrow cover for the Sevoal warriors providing the muscle to push the towers forward. After they reached the wall, they would climb the ladder in the rear as the second assault group.

"I wonder if they've made any catapults," said Bo aloud.

"I doubt it," said Dieya. "But I am surprised they didn't fire the gate last time they attacked."

"Probably because toward the end it looked as if they wouldn't need to," said Balthus. "Speaking of which, do we have many more 'Sorcerer's Fists'?"

"Only a dozen or so," said Rory. "I don't have the materials to make more."

As they watched the oncoming towers, large wooden shields on wheels appeared over the ridge.

"Looks like they are getting smart. They are going to give their archers some protection," said Balthus.

"Or a stationary target for our catapults," said Rory.

Balthus grinned. "I like the way you think."

A large, low house made its appearance over the ridge. It was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, with a center-peaked roof of skins that ran almost to the ground.

"What is that?" asked Bo.

"Battering ram," said Dieya. "It looks like an all-out offensive today. I see riders mounting up and gathering more ladders."

This fight would be different than the last and Balthus saw that his men were tense. Just watching the siege engines and that mass of warriors moving toward them was enough to tighten sphincters.

Balthus moved down the line cajoling, joking and reassuring his men. He promised them they would have more surprises for the Sevoal today. Mentioning the "Sorcerer's Fists" buoyed the men's spirits. He took up a position next to the center catapult and waited for something to get within range. He had ordered the other catapults to wait until the center catapult fired, then shoot at whatever it targeted.

"How're we feeling today?" said Balthus to the main catapult captain.

"Sharp!" nodded the man. "I just wish we had more large stones. Those towers are constructed of heavy timber and look solidly built."

Balthus grinned. "But I bet they'll make a wonderful fire."

The captain grinned back.

All along the parapet, mouths dried and hands clenched and unclenched on weapons as the towers rolled nearer. It was a relief when the first came into range and Balthus ordered the catapult to fire.

With a loud whistle, a one-hundred-pound stone sailed through the air, barely missing to the right. It struck the ground without inflicting any damage. A groan issued from the defenders. The catapult was re-wound and reloaded. The loaders shoved the catapult over about six inches to the left. Crouching behind the catapult, the captain sighted, then nodded. With another whistling sound the stone streaked through the air. All activity on the wall ceased as the men watched the missile descend. With a resounding crack it smashed into the left side of the tower. The defenders roared.

Seconds later, the left and right catapults opened fire on the same target. Both missed, but one stone bounced through a group of riders who were trying to use the tower for cover, smashing down several and injuring others. The Sevoals' archers came into range and arrows streaked toward the wall.

The center tower was taking hit after hit, but still it kept coming. Balthus was about to order a shift over to the naphtha pots when a stone from the left catapult hit with a resounding crack. The tower leaned drunkenly. More stones arched toward the tower like a pack of animals sensing injured prey. The catapults were reloading when the top half of the tower leaned far to the right and collapsed, pulling the base over on its side and spilling men out onto the ground. A ragged cheer resounded from the defenders, but as every second passed the other towers came closer to the wall. The catapults unleashed another volley at the far right tower and it started taking hits.

The battering ram rolled swiftly toward the castle gate, outdistancing the towers. It moved too rapidly for the catapult crews to target.

"Dieya," said Balthus. "I'm not sure if we need to worry about the battering ram. When it gets here we will burn it with the naphtha."

Dieya scanned the approaching ram. "It looks like they have wet the hides on the roof. Also, they have a double roof. The top one is made of hides and the bottom is wood. There is a two foot air space between them. If we get the top to burn, it will not bother the Sevoal much until it burns off. By then the gate may be breached."

Holding out his shield, Balthus leaned over the wall and studied the road leading to the gate. His shield rocked as an arrow embedded itself in the sturdy wood. He stepped back from the wall and turned to Dieya, casually plucking out the arrow.

"The road is paved with cobblestones for a distance of a hundred feet and slopes away from the gate. Come, give me a hand." He led Dieya to a stack of pots contained in a small stone shed. "Help me carry some of these to the parapet over the gate." He grabbed one and ran toward the wall. Dieya did the same. After two more trips, Balthus stopped and glanced over the wall. The battering ram was much closer.

"It looks like now or never," he said to Dieya. They each grabbed a handle and began to swing the naphtha-laden pot. "Ready? On three," said Balthus. By the count of three they had a pretty good momentum going when they released the pot. It sailed fifty feet out and crashed to the ground, naphtha running down the road. They tossed five more pots before Balthus peered over the wall. The road was littered with pottery shards and wet for thirty feet.

"Well, if this doesn't work, at least they might cut their feet." He turned back from the wall and found Adrianna standing there with a torch.

"Thought you might need this," she said.

He grinned and took the torch. "You always see what I miss. Thanks, Love." They waited and watched the approaching ram.

"Too early and they will just stop," said Balthus. "Too late and we won't be able to light it." He grinned at Dieya.

"You enjoy risk, don't you?" asked Dieya.

Balthus shrugged. "It puts a sharp edge on life."

"I hope it's not a cutting edge," replied Dieya.

Balthus waited until the naphtha was almost covered by the ram, then threw the torch. The torch landed just as the battering ram rolled over it. The naphtha ignited instantly and the inside of the ram became a death trap.

Balthus would hear the screams in his nightmares until he took his last breath. Sevoal warriors tried to get out, but only the ones at the rear of the ram succeeded. Others tried to roll under the sides of the ram but this only coated them with flaming naphtha. They rolled on the ground to put out the flames, but for most it was too late.

The ram burned, sending smoke and flames high into the sky. It had been stopped far enough away that the gate wasn't even singed.

The defeat of the battering ram was a stunning victory for the defenders, but to a man, no one let out a cheer. It was a sight they would talk about quietly, and then only after many mugs of ale.

Balthus' face was wet with tears. He pushed himself away from the holocaust on the road and ran to the center catapult. "Look what those bastards made me do!" he yelled to no one as he drew a hand across his eyes. Adrianna and Dieya followed him.

"We're going to finish this." Balthus grabbed the catapult captain and spun him around. "It's time!" The man nodded and they loaded a pot into the catapult basket. A runner handed a torch to Balthus. The captain sighted down the catapult and nodded. Balthus leaned over, lit the oil-soaked wick and stepped back. With a whoosh, the pot took flight, the wick's flame dancing in the air. The pot smashed into the front of the right tower and exploded with fury. Where the naphtha ran, fire followed. A section of hides about ten feet long was burning.

"Again!" roared Balthus. The crew feverishly cranked down the catapult's arm. The right catapult opened fire with naphtha on the same tower. Pots that missed set the cut grass afire and soon the battlefield was smoking and smoldering, diminishing the archers' visibility on both sides. The catapult on the left began firing pots at the left tower, while the center and right catapult concentrated on the right.

The right tower was a mass of flames. Two more direct hits caused the flames to engulf the cabin atop the tower. Men tried to climb down the ladder at the rear or simply leaped off the platform to smash into the ground.

Balthus turned his attention to the left tower. It was much closer. Soon it would be too close to use the catapults. It was burning, but not badly. The Sevoal were cutting off the hides from the inside, letting the burning ones simply drop to the ground.

"Damn!" shouted Balthus. "We are going to have a breach on the left." Instinctively he raised his left arm at a quick flash of motion. A red arrow buried itself in his shield. The Sevoal warrior who had fired it stood atop the wall notching another arrow. A swordsman cut him down, dropping him to the ground. More Sevoal warriors' heads appeared over the wall.

"They have used the smoke cover to get ladders up against the wall!" screamed Dieya over the din of battle.

Balthus located Captain Queekal and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Queekal! Light some pots and toss them over the wall!"

Queekal nodded. In moments, all along the wall, men were tossing flaming pots over the side. Shortly, the ground at the foot of the wall was awash in flames.

Balthus looked at the left siege tower. It was too close for the catapult to hit and was still coming.

"Valerian!" screamed Balthus over the din. He scanned the parapet but could not find the King's Champion anywhere. He couldn't find any knights on the wall at all. "Damn him! We've got to seal that coming breach!" he yelled to Dieya.

Balthus ran along the parapet with Adrianna on his left. He gathered men as he raced toward the approaching siege tower. As they reached the breach point, the tower door dropped and dozens of howling Sevoal poured out and over the wall, slashing and hacking with their steel axes. Sevoal warriors climbed up the ladder in the rear of the tower to reinforce their brothers who were already leaping down onto the parapet. More warriors on the ground raced to the tower awaiting their turn to climb the ladder and slaughter the defenders.

The battle's momentum had favored the defenders. Now it shifted to the Sevoal and they knew it. With renewed energy they swarmed up the ladder, and dozens of warriors streamed onto the parapet.

Adrianna, Balthus and the men they had gathered crashed into the knot of Sevoal warriors pouring out of the tower. The swordplay was furious and deadly. Balthus smashed one warrior with his shield, knocking him down, at the same time blocking the downward thrust of another one's axe with his sword. As Balthus held up the axe, Adrianna leaned forward from behind Balthus and slid the point of her sword into the Sevoal's heart. Oldwick joined Balthus on his right and their combination was devastating.

The fierce fighting continued. The sounds of screaming men and the clash of swords and axes deafened the ear and the scent of burning grass and blood filled the nostrils.

The defenders fought with a fury inspired by Balthus. He would slam into a group and deliver a killing blow, or if his sword were blocked Adrianna would finish the attacker. A knot of Sevoal forced their way between Balthus and Oldwick and for a moment, Oldwick fought alone.

Howling warriors threw themselves at Oldwick. Several hung onto his sword arm while others held his shield. Oldwick flung his sword arm wide and managed to dislodge one enemy but another leaped on, pinning Oldwick's arm open. It took but a moment for a Sevoal to rush in with raised axe. He screamed in triumph as he brought down his axe.

Balthus' sword flashed and the axe and arm fell to the ground. With another quick slash from Balthus and a long lunge from Adrianna, Oldwick's arm was free. He roared his battle cry and hacked the men holding his shield arm.

"Don't get too far ahead of the line!" screamed Balthus into Oldwick's ear. "We can't let them flank us!"

Oldwick backed off and glanced at Balthus. "You have saved my life this day, Balthus. Our score is settled."

Balthus nodded and together they continued their savage assault.

A moment's respite in the combat gave Balthus time to look and see how the battle was going. Bo and Rory fought side by side. Bo had learned to keep his shield up, Balthus noted with an air of detachment. Rory put his sword breaker to good use as he chopped into a pack of Sevoal warriors with his axe.

Dieya fought on Rory's left, wielding his two short swords with devastating effect. Swords flashed in for a quick stab or a slice across a neck. He didn't need to block an assault very often; with his quick reflexes he simply moved aside to let the blow go by, then stepped in to slash his attacker's throat. He was so effective the Sevoal gave him a wide berth.

Dieya evaluated the breach. More warriors were flooding onto the parapet than could be dealt with. Soon they would be bringing up archers and their toehold would have a firm footing. He had to stop their means of getting on the parapet.

Sheathing his bloody swords in his belt, Dieya ran to the left catapult. As a loader lifted a pot, Dieya grabbed him. "Follow me with that pot!" he ordered.

Dieya snatched up the last pot and a torch and ran toward the siege tower at the wall. He put down the pot and peered over the wall at the tower's ladder. He held his body motionless while his internal chip measured the distance and estimated angle and velocity. Lighting the wick, he stood and took several measured steps away from the wall. Spinning like a discus thrower, he launched the pot over the wall. All other action seemed to slow while the pot arched through the air. It broke at the top of the ladder, sending flaming death to those below. Screaming Sevoal warriors, their bodies aflame, leapt to their deaths rather than burn alive. Others below hesitated climbing. Dieya lit the remaining pot and again tossed it unerringly onto the ladder.

That was all for the Sevoal reinforcements. Any thoughts of braving the fire and climbing up evaporated. They streamed away from the ladder only to become ready targets for the archers atop the wall.

Dieya rushed back to join the fight at the breach. Without additional men, the Sevoal foothold shrank. Balthus and Adrianna stepped back from the fighting to let fresher men take their places. Bo and Rory joined them. As they watched, a few of the Sevoal warriors threw down their axes and held up their hands. It was as if a signal had been given. All the remaining Sevoal threw down their weapons and surrendered. The fighting stopped immediately.

Almost immediately, anyway. Eli Hawke walked down the line of surrendering Sevoal, cutting throats even as they held up their hands. Balthus launched himself at Hawke's back and brought the pommel of his sword down on Hawke's helmet hard enough that it rang like a bell. Hawke collapsed in a heap. Balthus turned and rejoined the group.

Grinning, he said, "Always wanted to do that." His grin quickly vanished. "Where is Valerian? I have the same for him."

Dieya pointed toward the red gate. "There!" he yelled.

Valerian and his mounted knights were pouring from the north gate and forming into a wedge, with Valerian at the tip.

"Damn the man. He could get them all killed," said Dieya.

"I don't know, Dieya," said Balthus. "It might not be a bad idea. The Sevoal are falling back in disarray."

Bo shook Balthus' shoulder and pointed to the rise beyond the Sevoal camp. "What in the hell are those?"

A roaring horde of green-skinned, club-wielding monsters rushed down the rise into the Sevoal encampment.

"Morgur!" yelled Dieya, leaping in the air with joy. "Perfect. With the Morgur at their backs and Valerian hitting them from the side, we can crush them between us! Let's clear the gate." Dieya rushed off and Bo and Rory hurried to gather their men.

Balthus glanced at Adrianna. Hair disheveled, face dirty and blood-spattered, she smiled. He thought she had never looked so beautiful. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Maybe this insanity will be over soon."

"Yes," she answered and squeezed his arm. "We can finish this today." They ran down the parapet stairs to join the men.

Rory was the first to have his men in formation and ready to move out. The mercenary captains were still gathering their individual units together.

"Rory," said Dieya, "I would fight with your men."

"They would be honored, Sir."

Dieya noted three "Sorcerer's Fists" tied to one side of Rory's waist and a smoking rope on the other. "Ready for anything, Strikedag?"

Rory nodded. "Always."

"Then let's move out. There's a Sevoal sitting on a mound outside that I need to have a word or two with."

"Aye aye, Sir," he said, snapping off a crisp salute.

Balthus and Adrianna joined Rory and Dieya at the head of the column.

"You two are not leaving us out of the fun," said Balthus.

Rory nodded acceptance.

When the gates were cleared, Rory had his men jog through in a column of threes, with himself, Dieya, Adrianna and Balthus at the head. They had to slow around the still-burning battering ram.

"Keep your eyes on the man in front of you!" yelled Rory as they ran past the carnage just beyond the gate.

His orders were repeated down the column. Several who didn't heed his orders fell out to vomit their breakfast.

The battlefield was different than it looked from the parapets. Down here, the stench of blood and death was everywhere, combined with the smell of smoke and defeat. The troops ran past the stake pits and Rory formed them into a line.

Dieya looked to see how Valerian's troops were doing. The Sevoal arrows had blunted the knights' charge, but they still made good headway. A large group of mounted Sevoal swarmed into the knights' formation, flowed in through the gaps and fired with deadly precision at point blank range. The charge faltered and became a mounted melee, knights' swords against the axes and arrows of the Sevoal. Dieya watched as a Sevoal warrior leaped onto the back of a knight and split his helm and the skull beneath, only to be hacked down from behind by another knight's sword.

Dieya glanced at the Sevoal camp. He could hear the war cries of the Morgur in the distance and smiled. Morgur were the bogeymen Sevoal mothers frightened their children with when they were bad. Joy mingled with pride filled Dieya as he saw only a few Sevoal warriors stand to fight the Morgur – most ran.

The smoke lessened as they marched outward. Dieya pointed to the mound where Ta'Lon stood, unmoving. "There! I must go there! If we can cut off the head, the body will die!" He broke into a run and Rory's men followed.

The Sevoal warriors saw their intent and formed a blockade around the mound to protect their leader. Dieya's speed outpaced the advancing infantry and he alone attacked the Sevoal line. The axes of the Sevoal warriors were no match for his flashing blades, but as he waded deeper into their lines, he found himself surrounded and fighting on all sides.

"Faster, men!" yelled Rory. Just before the lines crashed together, the Sevoal leader strode to the end of the mound and held up his arms.

"Hold!" he shouted. The attack on Dieya ceased and the warriors backed away, leaving him the bull's eye in a circle of warriors. "He is mine!" yelled Ta'Lon.

"Halt!" ordered Rory. The two lines of enemies faced each other only feet apart.

Ta'Lon walked off his mound and approached Dieya with long determined strides, Sevoal warriors moving out of his way. Ta'Lon stopped to grab an axe from one warrior, then one from another.

Across the battlefield the word spread like a hushed sigh. Warriors stopped in the midst of fights and backed away from their opponents to watch the outcome of the duel, for duel it was sure to be. The only fighting still going on was at the rear of the Sevoal camp. The Morgur didn't care about a human duel.

As Ta'Lon approached Dieya, the ring widened around the combatants, one side comprised of Sevoal warriors, the other of Balthus, Adrianna, Rory and his infantry.

"So, Aberration," said Ta'Lon, "it comes down to you and me, eh?"

"It's always been between you and me," said Dieya.

Ta'Lon adjusted his grip on the axes. "You cannot expect to beat me," the Sevoal leader said with a sharp laugh.

"I don't expect anything. It is a given. You are already a dead man."

"Brave talk, little one. Come, taste my axe!" He leaped at Dieya, slashing down with one axe and sideways with the other. Dieya had just enough time to avoid the blows before Ta'Lon spun and began another attack. The swift clang of sword blocking axe and axe blocking sword rang continuously. The blows came so fast that the combatant's arms were blurs. This frenzied pace went on for several minutes, longer than any other man could have sustained, then they broke apart. Dieya was breathing heavily. Ta'Lon wasn't as winded.

"You cannot beat me, Aberration. The Masters have created me to be the bane of such as you."

Dieya wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Are they the masters you have never even seen? Perhaps they are a figment of your twisted mind."

Ta'Lon scowled. "Come, let me end you. You cannot win. You Aberrations are too predictable." With that, he mounted a furious attack on Dieya, driving him backward toward the mound.

Swords and axes flashing in the sunlight, the combatants fought on. The crowd surrounding the fighters yelled encouragement mixed with cries of wonder at a sudden attack or clever parry.

Dieya was tiring. Everyone could see it. The sheer bulk of the Sevoal leader was overwhelming.

Finally the end came. Dieya and Ta'Lon locked weapons and stood toe to toe, pushing against each other.

"This is when you die," said the Sevoal leader. With a mighty shove, he threw Dieya to the ground. Dieya landed hard on his back, his breath rushing out in a loud whoosh.

"You Aberrations are so predictable," said Ta'Lon and raised his axe.

Dieya dropped one sword and with a quick motion, threw dirt into the face of the Sevoal leader. Ta'Lon jerked up his arm to protect his eyes and Dieya threw his other sword. The whirling blade stopped with a loud "thunk" as it buried itself into the center of Ta'Lon's chest.

"How's that for predictable?" said Dieya, rising to his feet.

Ta'Lon stared at the handle of the sword protruding from his chest and sank to his knees. Surprise flashed over his face as he looked up at Dieya. Blood trickled from his mouth as he gasped, "You still can't win..." He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a small silver box with one large black button in the center. He smiled, pushed the button, and fell face forward. The small box took one bounce and landed at Dieya's feet.

The Sevoal warriors were stunned.

"Ocaow is dead!" shouted one warrior.

Dieya watched the warriors. He didn't know if they would attack to avenge their leader or run.

With a loud buzz and flash, an eight-by-twelve foot rectangular blue field sprang into existence next to Ta'Lon's mound. Flashes of white swirled in the blue rectangle. All eyes stared at the magic in their midst.

"Dimgate!" yelled Rory. Running through the parting Sevoal warriors toward the gateway, he snatched two Sorcerer's Fists from his belt.

Out of the rectangle rolled two metal objects, man-sized and man-shaped. They moved forward slowly on their three metal treads.

The bane of humanity for the last two hundred and fifty years had arrived on Ravar.

"Battle droids!" yelled Dieya as he rushed them.

The scout battle droids rolled forward several feet then halted. A cup-shaped object revolving around one of the droid's heads stopped, then pointed at the fallen Sevoal leader.

Rory and Dieya were the only ones moving. Everyone else stood still, surprise overwhelming panic. The battle droids noticed Rory's movement and turned. They raised their laser weapons and tried to fire. It took their computers a mere micro-second to deduce that a field dampener made their lasers inoperable.

Rory, still charging forward, tossed two lit grenades between the battle droids. They ignored the smoldering tankards and the ends of their metal arms twirled to switch weapons.

They fired.

A row of bullets stitched across Rory's chest as an explosion erupted between the battle droids. One blew over, a tread spinning uselessly, the other stood mangled and motionless.

Rory staggered forward, and lit his last grenade. He faltered as he neared the face of the dimgate, but with a yell, he tossed the grenade through. A quick flash filled the rectangle and the gateway winked out of existence. Rory took one final step, then collapsed in a heap.

"Rory!" yelled Balthus. He rushed to his fallen friend with Adrianna right behind but Dieya was the first to reach him. He gently turned him over and lifted his head. Balthus and Adrianna knelt beside Rory.

"Dieya," said Balthus, "can you heal him?"

Dieya looked up, his eyes moist. "No. He's already dead."

Bo arrived on luseback and leaped off before the luse came to a halt. "Rory!" he yelled and ran toward them. He knelt next to Dieya and grasped Rory's hand, then looked at Balthus.

"I'm sorry, son. He's gone," said Balthus.

Bo burst into tears and clutched Rory's hand harder. "He was the best of us."

"Aye Lad," said Balthus. "That he was."

Bo stood, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and went to his luse. He took a bedroll from his saddle and covered Rory's body. "Sir," he said to Dieya, "please, let me take care of him."

"Yes, I'd forgotten. He was one of your men."

Bo shook his head. "No, Sir. He was my friend."

Balthus stood and surveyed the battlefield. All combat had ceased. The Sevoal were scattering in every direction with no fight left in them. The mounted Sevoal had ridden northeast, pursued by a few knights who were quickly outdistanced. The siege towers were now nothing more than black ruins, with smoke drifting into the blue sky. Toward the east, the Morgur were looting the Sevoal camp. About a dozen walked toward them.

Dieya rose to meet them and nodded to the largest one in the center. "Welcome, Tolrak," said Dieya.

"Watcher-Who-Comes," answered Tolrak.

The other Morgur lowered their war clubs.

Dieya glanced down at the three Torbu skulls hanging from Tolrak's belt. "War Leader Tolrak! You bring much honor this day to the Rak tribe." He glanced at Tolrak's band. "As do the cousins of the Rak tribe." His eyes alighted on one Mogur and glanced at his belt. "Hotnac! You have made skull leader, I see. The Rak tribe chooses wisely."

Hotnac raised his club in salute.

Dieya turned his attention back to Tolrak. "War Leader, why have you come to the aid of Watcher-Who-Comes this day?"

"We heard from the Molak tribe, those weaklings who trade with humans, that you would fight here. Watcher-Who-Comes helped the Rak tribe greatly in the Dark Wars. Gorak says we are in your debt. The Rak tribe pays their debts!"

"Yes, War Leader. And now, the debt is paid. You have gained the Rak tribe much honor today."

Tolrak bared his teeth, the Morgur equivalent of a smile. He pointed to the Sevoal camp with his club. "The ehta riders have left much grob. What do we do with it?"

"The Rak tribe has earned all that is left in their camp," said Dieya.

Tolrak again displayed teeth. "Then this has been a fine day for the Rak." He held up a skin bag filled with liquid. "We have found much of this white drink!" He opened the skin and poured a generous amount down his large gullet, spilling most onto his chest. "We would know the name of this mother's milk that acts like tanga!"

Dieya smiled. "That is called burkala, my friend. But be careful. If you drink too much, in the morning your head will feel like it has been hit with a Rak war club."

"Ah!" grunted Tolrak, nodding. "Watcher-Who-Comes, we will stay where the ehta riders camped and in the morning we will go back to our holding." Tolrak held up the skin bag. "But tonight we will drink all the 'burkala' we cannot carry home. Come drink with us. A great victory should end with a great feast!"

"Yes, War Leader of the Rak. I will come and we will tell each other of our valor this day." He turned and looked at Rory's body being placed on Bo's luse. "And we will drink to those who have fallen." He stepped backward a few steps and held his arms in the air with clenched fists. "Hail to the Rak!" The Morgur held their clubs high and grunted in answer.

Dieya rejoined his friends as Bo led his luse back toward the castle. Balthus and Adrianna flanked the luse, each with a hand on Rory's body. They walked slowly and silently.

Balthus' men spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening hauling away the remains of the siege engines and cleaning up bodies for the pyres. The worst were the remains of the holocaust at the gate. Dieya asked volunteers to do the work and slipped each several silvers after they finished. With guards no longer needed to man the walls, the cleanup finished quickly. Everyone pitched in, even the townspeople. Everyone, that is, except the knights.

Balthus, Adrianna, and Dieya were out on the battlefield supervising the work when Balthus glanced up at an approaching rider.

"Well, look who's decided to lend us a hand," said Balthus.

Valerian, resplendent in shining armor, a clean white tunic and a new white feather atop his helm, rode toward them.

"You don't think he is going to help us and possibly get dirty do you?" said Adrianna.

Balthus' eyes narrowed as he watched Valerian approach.

"Oh, he'll get dirty all right. Trust me on that. I have a thing or two to ask him about this morning's fight. Like, why he ran out on us without a word."

"Balthus," said Dieya, "if I asked a favor of you, would you do it?"

"Of course, Dieya. Anything at all... Maybe," said Balthus.

"I will have to work with Valerian in the future, rebuilding the King's Arm. Perhaps you will, too. He is a pompous ass, but please don't tell him that to his face. He has an established place in the King's court and is needed by the realm at the moment. Please put aside his self-serving behavior in today's battle and be polite."

Emotion boiled over Balthus' face. Then he bit his lip and grimaced. "Sorcerer, you have asked us to do some hard things, but I think this is the hardest." He stared at the ground, then nodded. "It will be as you ask."

Valerian rode up and halted. Balthus walked to Valerian's side, his face a blank.

"So, Sir Sorcerer. Was it not like I told you?" said Valerian. "One charge was all it took to rout the savages."

"Sir Valerian, it took quite a bit more than that, I am sure you will remember," said Dieya.

The Knight waved his hand as if brushing away a fly. "Yes, yes, all were necessary. If you have no further use for the King's Arm, I and my men will withdraw tomorrow to Jarvus."

"Fine idea, Valerian. We'll see you at the Baron's victory celebration later this evening."

With a tip of his head to Balthus and Adrianna, Valerian turned and rode off.

"Balthus, you were marvelous," said Adrianna, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Yes, I am very pleased," said Dieya. "Thank you for your forbearance."

Balthus and Adrianna stared at Dieya, then burst out laughing.

Dieya looked perplexed. "What? Did I miss something?"

The pair flanked Dieya, and Balthus placed his hand on Dieya's shoulder. He gestured to the retreating figure of Valerian. "How could I say anything bad about that fine figure of a man? That King's Champion. That, that – "

At that moment, Valerian and his saddle slid off his luse, unfortunately choosing a burned area of grass to fall into. A cloud of soot and dust announced his collision with the earth.

"– that no-longer-clean Knight of the Realm," said Adrianna.

They howled with laughter as Dieya stood stunned, staring at Valerian. The Knight picked himself up and tried to brush off the black soot that covered his entire body.

"You cut his girth strap!" exclaimed Dieya.

"Me?" asked Balthus innocently. "That is something that could have been done any time today. And you accuse me?" He looked at Adrianna. "Although, it does take a master to cut through just enough of the strap to drop your man in exactly the right spot." He pulled her away from Dieya, put an arm around her waist and they walked back to the castle.

Dieya couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on his face.

CHAPTER 66

Dieya supervised the building of the funeral pyre. He wanted Ta'Lon's body near the bottom, where the intense heat would melt any of the Kraken agent's enhancements.

Bo worked hard with his tree-cutting crew to gather enough wood to insure complete cremation of the bodies. He labored silently, working harder than any other man in his team. It was shortly after sundown when the job was finished and the pyre ready.

Bo had placed Rory's body in an empty stone house near the south gate and he rode back to get it. He wanted Rory placed at the top of the pyre – he had certainly earned that honor. Alone with his thoughts, Bo carried Rory's body to a wagon and drove it slowly to the gate. He had forced himself to focus on the cleanup job as a way to deal with the loss that dragged heavily on his heart.

After passing through the gate, he halted the wagon team and gaped at the rows of archers lining each side of the road from the gate to the pyre. Each stood quietly, holding their bow with a nocked flaming arrow pointed at the ground. With eyes misting, he slapped the luses' reins and rolled between the honor brigade. As he passed, each trooper fell into formation behind the wagon. Balthus, Adrianna and Dieya were waiting for him at the end of the road.

"We'll help you get him up to the top, Lad," said Balthus. "He deserves no less."

They carried Rory's body up the pyre and gently laid him down. Bo placed Rory's axe on top of the body. "He really liked that axe." Tears ran down Bo's face and Balthus patted him on the back. They climbed down.

Dieya turned to the archers formed in ranks facing the pyre. "Ready!" he shouted. Each archer drew back on his bow. "Loose!" cried Dieya.

As one, flaming arrows streaked across the night sky to land on the pyre. Flames quickly ran along the oil-drenched trees and the entire mound was ablaze in seconds.

"The Sevoal believe that the brighter the spark that ascends skyward, the braver the warrior," said Balthus as the fire lit up the night. "Tonight, the brightest spark would have to be Rory's." He looked up at the flames climbing into the sky. "Aye, it would have to be."

They stood together, watching until the flames burned low.

CHAPTER 67

The war was over.

That fact sank in once the cleanup work was finished.

The war was over.

The revelry began.

The evening's celebration was loud, boisterous, and thoroughly enjoyed by all. The remaining townsfolk emerged from their homes and hiding places to join in and to praise the defenders. To the east, Morgur shadows cavorted around several gigantic bonfires, their howling heard for miles.

The mercenaries were treated to a feast as food was no longer rationed. Dieya bought every wine cask in town and free wine was available at every tavern. The Arvari retreated to the forest to celebrate in their own fashion.

The "war council" headed to their private chamber for a quiet drink after they paid their respects to the Baron and his court at the victory celebration. Claiming the responsibility of seeing to the men, they left the main hall as soon as good manners would allow.

"Where's Bo?" asked Dieya as he poured Balthus and Adrianna's wine.

"I don't know," said Balthus. "He was mumbling something in that babble tongue of yours and disappeared several hours ago."

"How's he taking Rory's death?" asked Dieya.

"He'll be all right. He told me he was an 'Alliance Marine.'" Balthus shrugged. "That seemed to mean something to him." Balthus looked up as the door opened. "Ah. Here comes our wayward son now."

Bo entered the room with a big smile on his face and a large wooden chest in his arms. He and the chest were covered with dirt.

"Bo, you are grinning like that is the 'Lost Treasure of Kyndia,'" said Adrianna.

"I don't know what that is, but this is even better!" exclaimed Bo. He thumped the chest onto the table and opened it. Balthus tried to peer in, but Bo held up a hand.

"I have here a box of amazing goodies. First, a present to our leader." He pulled out a bread-loaf-sized gray box. Different-colored jewels, shining with an inner fire, covered the top.

"I give the Sorcerer back his powers," said Bo. He pushed a button on the box and the jewels' fire died.

Dieya jumped up from his chair. "You found the field dampener!" He extended his hand, palm up. A small spinning ball of fire appeared over it.

Balthus started.

"It's all right. It's just an illusion," said Dieya. Closing his palm, the ball disappeared. "Do you know what this means?" he said, grinning.

"It means you will be leaving us," said Adrianna.

"No. Yes. Well it does, but not yet!" He eyes burned with excitement. "It means that the wounded men who wouldn't have made it through this night won't die. It means the men who have crippling injuries won't have to spend the rest of their lives handicapped. I must administer to them at once." He reached for his amulet.

"Wait! Dieya, there's more you must see," said Bo. "Look." He spun the box around and waved them over.

Bo's voice rose half an octave. "It's full of Kraken-made devices. Here is a tiny laser that is more powerful than anything we currently have in that scale. I burned a finger-sized hole in the outside wall in about a half a second..." He looked perplexed and pleased at the same time. "...and Dieya – it worked while the field dampener was still activated. Ta'Lon could have used it on us at any time. I don't understand why he didn't."

Dieya looked at the laser and shook his head. "In his incredible arrogance, he thought he wouldn't need it."

Bo picked up another object. "I recognized this as a gate locator. This is how he opened the dimgate at the end of your fight. This is Ta'Lon's stash!"

Dieya's eyes shone as he examined the devices. "This is incredible! This could mean a giant leap for us in the war. Where did you find them?"

Adrianna spoke up. "Inside Ta'Lon's mound, of course."

In unison, Bo and Dieya asked, "How did you know?" They exchanged looks.

"Well, Ta'Lon never left that area and that was where the gate thing appeared, but most of all – look at Bo's clothes. He is filthy and has obviously been digging somewhere. Simple logic."

"Adrianna, you are a wonder," said Dieya.

"Hey," said Balthus, "what about me?"

"You? I wonder what she sees in you." Dieya laughed at Balthus' open mouth. "I really must be off to the infirmary. Then I will visit the Morgur, the Arvari, and the site of the Kraken gate. With my power restored I can turn what's left of those two battle droids into slag. I'm going to spread the rumor that Ta'Lon was a Sevoal shaman in league with dark powers. His death caused two demons to appear to avenge him, and with their death, the gateway to hell closed forever." He looked at them hopefully. "At least I pray that the gate has been closed forever."

Dieya patted the chest. "Bo, put this in a safe place and guard it with your life." He stepped back from the table and with a blue flash, he was gone.

"Humph!" exclaimed Balthus. "Just when I was getting used to him using the door like normal people."

Bo poured a glass of wine and drank it down. "Digging is thirsty work." He put down the glass and closed the chest lid. "I'd better do as the man said and get this someplace safe."

Balthus placed his hand on Bo's shoulder. "Rory would be proud."

Bo stared for a moment, then nodded. "Goodnight, you two," he said softly. He picked up the chest and left.

Balthus looked around the quiet room. "Looks like it's just you and me, Love."

Adrianna smiled and refilled their glasses. "As it always is, in reality."

"Come closer, I want to talk to you about something," said Balthus. Adrianna started to sit on his lap. "No, sit over here," he said, patting the chair next to him. "I want to talk to you seriously about something."

Adrianna sat and Balthus turned and reached for her hand.

She and Balthus talked long into the night.

CHAPTER 68

A bright sun rose the next morning over a quiet town. Only a few hardier souls were still celebrating. Few people greeted Balthus and Adrianna as they walked to the infirmary. Most were still sleeping off the night's libations.

They entered the ward and Adrianna stared. The room, which overflowed yesterday, was less than a quarter full now. Dieya was bent over a patient lying on a bed near the door. He stood up, arched his back and stretched.

"Dieya," said Balthus, "have you been up all night? You should get some rest. Let us take over."

"It's not necessary," he said. "All here have been attended to." He waved his hand to the patients still remaining. "These men need more rest but they will all recover. The ones that I healed last night were able to leave under their own power." He smiled. "I think the best medicine was the sound of raucous revelers. The ambulatory ones didn't want to miss the celebration. I healed one man of an axe wound and he left. Two hours later, I healed the same man of a broken leg he received when he fell off a table he was dancing on." Dieya shook his head.

"Do we need the men any longer?" asked Balthus. "I would like to get them paid off and out of town before we put any further burden on the townsfolk."

"Good idea. Let us announce that we will be paying off the men today and consider their service at an end. That should send the farmers home in time for the late planting."

"Do we have the coin for that?"

Dieya chuckled. "We will. I should have it here by midday, now that I can dim again."

Balthus went in search of Captain Queekal. He found him with his men in the large tavern they had been using as their headquarters.

"Balthus, Adrianna!" shouted Queekal from a corner table in the rear of the common room. He motioned them over. It was hard to hear over the din. The party was either still going on from last night or starting anew. "Is it true?" he asked as they joined him at his table. "I heard that we were being paid and released today."

Balthus poured drinks for himself and Adrianna. "Yes, everyone will be paid today in full. But if you have no other pressing engagements, I do have another job for you."

Queekal smiled. "That would depend. If it is anything like this last one, you can keep it."

Balthus returned the smile. "No, this one should be easy. We need someone to escort the wounded back to their homes. It might be slow going, but it will be good pay for little work. You and your cutthroats are heading back anyway, I gather."

Queekal emptied his cup and nodded. "I'm sure we can come to an agreeable price. To tell you the truth," he glanced at Adrianna, "and that's only 'cause I'm drunk," he looked back to Balthus, "I'd have done it anyway, but a little more gold never hurts."

Balthus stood and held out a hand to Adrianna. "Good. Then we'll see you in the pay line." They waved goodbye and walked out to the street.

"Remember last night's conversation?" asked Adrianna.

Balthus nodded.

"Well, I've thought it over," said Adrianna, "and I think you are correct." She twined her arm through his. "When the time is right, I will follow your lead."

Balthus smiled and squeezed her arm. "Then there's nothing left to do here but pack up and get out."

CHAPTER 69

The next morning began the exodus from Glendell Castle. Dieya and Balthus, with Adrianna at his side, bid each group farewell. The Arvari were the first to leave, anxious to be in their home forests again. They had taken only five causalities during the fighting and had seen the death of thousands of Sevoal. They had avenged their fallen brothers well. Erondil trotted toward Balthus, Adrianna and Dieya as his men headed west. "The sun's blessing on you," said Erondil to all.

"And to the forest," responded Dieya.

"Laere-Tere, we thank you again for your help and for letting us avenge our dead."

"Travel the path of light," said Dieya.

Erondil waved then sprinted to catch up with his people.

Balthus watched them with admiration as they seemed to flow over the grass. "Arvari are marvelous. Even the old hotara are extremely graceful," said Balthus.

"Ah, yes. But the younger females are incredibly more so," said Dieya.

"They must be amazing," sighed Balthus.

"You should see them," prompted Dieya.

"He should not!" snapped Adrianna.

Both men looked at Adrianna and laughed. Red crept up her cheeks.

The mercenaries left at different times in groups as large as hundreds or as small as a solitary warrior. Most headed west. The Morgur moved south, back to their dry caves.

Peace and quiet descended once again on Glendell Castle.

It was mid-morning when Bo, Adrianna, Balthus, and their bodyguards moved out the west gate on another cloudless day. Balthus had told Oldwick and his men that their service was over, but the giant wouldn't hear of it. He insisted that their service would end after escorting them to Brightmoor Castle.

Balthus knew that Oldwick just wanted to see Janelle, and wondered how that would work out. Dieya assured him not to worry.

Balthus did worry about Eli Hawke, who rode silently behind him. Hawke was not a man you wanted behind you if he was harboring a grudge. Balthus thought he would sleep better if he got the confrontation over with. He dropped back and rode next to Hawke.

"How's the head?" he asked.

Hawke looked straight ahead. "It hurts from thinking about what to do."

"Do?" asked Balthus

"Yeah, wondering if I should let it go, kill you now, or let you stew about it for a while, then kill you," he said calmly.

Shocked flashed over Balthus' face. "Kill me? I thought you'd thank me."

Hawke jerked his head around. "Thank you? What for?"

"The Sorcerer didn't want you killing prisoners. Why, he was about to burn you to a cinder! I acted as quick as I could to stop him."

Hawke rubbed his jaw. "Oh... No one told me that." He was lost in thought for a moment. "To a cinder, huh?" He looked at Balthus. "You and I have never gotten along, but you have always played it fair." He thought a moment longer. "Thanks for the knock on the head, then."

Balthus smiled. "Anytime. Anytime at all." He spurred his luse and caught up to Adrianna. Hawke was the deadliest man he'd ever seen. Balthus was just glad he wasn't the brightest.

The journey back to Brightmoor Castle was uneventful. The small entourage arrived late in the afternoon on a cloudy day that threatened a rainy evening. They rode through the gates and the Duke and Dieya stood on the Castle steps waiting to greet them.

"Welcome! It is good to see you again," the Duke said, offering his hand to Balthus and Bo. He bowed low to Adrianna. "The Sorcerer has told me of your exploits on the frontier." He glanced at Bo. "And of your losses," he said with sincerity. "Please come inside and rest yourselves. My chamberlain will see to your men."

Balthus turned to his bodyguards. "Gentlemen, thank you for your service. Your duties have been fulfilled." The men followed the chamberlain, except for one.

Oldwick stared at the Duke's Castle as if he might need to storm the front doors alone. The Duke eyed him questioningly and the house guards tightened their grips on their halberds.

Dieya intervened. "Your Lordship, if you will. This man has been most concerned about the Lady Janelle. Would you allow him a short visit?"

"Ah, yes. I remember. By all means, please show him the way."

Dieya led the way into Brightmoor Castle barely ahead of Oldwick. "Oldwick, remember she is not well, so speak softly to her," he said as they went up the stairs.

"My words will not bruise a flower petal."

Dieya rolled his eyes.

Arriving at the room, Dieya opened the door and stepped aside. "I'll let you have some time alone with her. I'll be down the hall."

The giant nodded, having eyes only for the figure lying still on the canopied bed. Oldwick stepped toward the bed, and as he neared, Janelle stood. She was pale as snow.

"I have been waiting for you, Oldwick."

The giant stopped in his tracks. Her voice sounded strange, as if it were coming from many places at once. He glanced around the room, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

Movement snapped his eyes back to Janelle. She was growing taller. And larger. As he watched, her body changed to that of a beautiful woman with a long flowing white dress and long golden hair. Her hair blew gently in the wind, but not a breeze stirred in the room. Oldwick fell to his knees. Before him stood a ten-foot-tall goddess of incredible beauty and strength. Light suffused around her and a gold nimbus played around her head.

"Oldwick. I tested you in that bar with this woman's borrowed body. You reacted well. I have watched you fight the Sevoal. You have fought well. I have chosen you as the one." Her voice was loud and echoed in Oldwick's ears.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice soft and timid.

"You know me as Bravada, the Goddess of Valor. I have been searching for the mightiest warrior on Ravar. I have tested many, but you are the best."

"I always thought I was, but... What – what do you want of me?" he said, wetting dry lips.

"I offer you The Challenge. I would have you become the Warrior of Pure Valor. To help those in need. To defend the undefended. To be the Icon of Valor for men to look to for centuries to come. Are you strong enough to accept this challenge?"

Oldwick swallowed hard. "I am!" he said, nodding.

"Do you then accept The Challenge?"

Oldwick stretched out his arms as if to embrace her words. "I do!"

She raised her arms. "Then go. Speak of this to no one. I will never again appear before you, but if you ever lack strength for valor, look in your heart. There you will find me."

The glow around the goddess faded and she shrank back to the pale form of Janelle. Once the metamorphosis was over, Janelle climbed back into bed and closed her eyes.

Oldwick was still on his knees. Rising slowly, he backed away from the bed. He halted at the door and drew his sword, raising it into the air.

"I accept your Challenge! I will not fail!" he cried.

Oldwick sheathed his sword and strode from the room standing even taller than he had before. Dieya was down the corridor, sitting on a bench reading a book. Dieya put down the book he'd been holding upside down and stood. "I'm sorry. It is as I told you. Nothing can be done for the Lady Janelle."

"Never fear, Wizard!" Oldwick said with exuberance. "The Gods will set things right. I must be off!" With that, he bounded down the stairs, four at a time, and strode across the hall.

Dieya ran to Janelle's room, stopping so quickly he slid past the doorway. He ran into the room. "It's all right! He bought it."

Janelle leaped out of bed. "That's wonderful!" she said. She ran to the vanity table and splashed water on her face. "I thought I would ruin it all when this makeup starting itching!" She soaped and rinsed her face and hands.

"Oh, no! We never checked to see if you were allergic to that stuff. I'm sorry."

"No harm done," she said, toweling her face. "He didn't sense you in the room at all, and neither did I. I was worried a bit until the hologram activated, then I knew it would go all right." She finished toweling then turned to Dieya. She gripped his upper arms and looked into his eyes. "But did we do the right thing? I mean Goddess of Valor... really..."

He led her toward the couch. "I believe we did. I had several talks with Oldwick at Glendell Castle. He has been searching for a sign, a direction to go in his life. He believes in the local gods and goddesses, so making him serve on the side of good is worthwhile." He sat and pulled Janelle beside him. Then he stretched himself out, placed his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling. "Besides. He was after my girl. I had to do something."

"Your girl?" said Janelle. She stared at him, then her expression softened. She smiled. "All right." She lowered her head to his chest and he enfolded her in his arms.

Dinner was again held in the Duke's private dining room. The Duke went all out and had his chefs prepare a feast. Between courses, he insisted on a blow-by-blow account of their battle and marveled over each fight. When the Duke inquired about the final duel with the Sevoal shaman, Dieya just said he won.

Balthus wouldn't let things rest with that. He told the Duke and Janelle of the incredible clash, replaying every attack and counter. He described in depth Dieya's bravery and ability, and at one point, acted out a part. Dieya's face flushed red and that had been Balthus' intention all along. That, and the sparkle in Janelle's eye as she listened and glanced now and again at Dieya.

"A wonderful adventure," said the Duke. "Would that I were with you."

Balthus sobered. "I have been in battles before, but nothing matched the slaughter that went on during those two days of fighting. Believe me, your Lordship, be glad you weren't there." He raised his glass. "To absent friends."

"Absent friends," echoed Bo. Balthus stood and threw his glass into the fireplace. Everyone followed suit. The servants quickly replaced and filled the glasses.

"So, my friends," said the Duke, "what adventure do you seek next?"

"Tomorrow," said Dieya, "we will be leaving, I'm afraid."

"So soon! I was hoping for a rematch with Balthus in Shallcross," said the Duke.

"That's possible, but Bo and Janelle must leave for home tomorrow." He looked at Balthus and Adrianna. "I was hoping you could accompany them for a while and get them started on the right trail, as we tried to do last time."

Balthus nodded. "Be delighted to." He looked at the Duke. "Your Lordship, I'm afraid I will have to forego the pleasure of another game for now. Adrianna and I also must be leaving tomorrow."

"So!" said the Duke. "Let us drink and bask in this fine fellowship while it lasts."

"Hear hear!" said Adrianna.

They talked of many things, long into the night. No one wanted to be the first to leave, for they knew that the morning would hold too many goodbyes.

CHAPTER 70

The sun rose again as it had for millions of years, throwing back the blackness of night and vanquishing the demons of the dark. A pink light painted the few clouds left from the evening's rain. The hard-packed ground hadn't drunk all the water and the sky was reflected in dozens of puddles.

The group was saddled and ready to go. They bade farewell to the Duke and rode through the gate. The day warmed as did Balthus to the telling of some tall tales. They had a dozen miles to travel but the trip flashed by.

"Dieya," said Bo, reining his luse alongside. "I take it your base has been repaired?"

"Not quite," he answered. "When my scheduled report became overdue, they opened a dimgate to check on the situation. The repair crews have been here for a couple of days. They have a two-way gate standing open and they are clearing my base of rubble. There are teams of your brothers in arms, dressed as mercenaries, patrolling the area to discourage intruders. It's a bit of overkill, but Headquarters wanted to reinforce the non-disclosure rule. So far, no one has come near this valley." He paused and patted his luse's neck. "The folks on our world just don't realize that travel at this stage of technology is very hard. Most people on this planet live and die within ten miles of the place they were born." He shook his head. "Sometimes it's difficult for me to pull back from our 'modern' world and slow down enough to be like the people of Ravar."

"At first, I thought your methods were a bit brash," said Bo. "I just didn't appreciate how difficult and lonely your job is."

"That might be remedied soon," said Dieya, glancing back to Janelle, who was talking with Adrianna. "The Dieya service has been aware of the problems of a single human out of sync with others. They are going to start pairing Dieyas on worlds. Janelle has applied for a transfer to the Dieya Corps, and after some training she will return to Ravar."

Bo's grin flashed from ear to ear. "That's fantastic! It will suit her field of study and you two get along great together."

Dieya smiled and looked back at Janelle just as she glanced up. She returned his smile. "Yes, we do," he said.

Balthus rode up on Dieya's other flank.

"So, Sir Sorcerer. What's next for you and your mission of watchfulness?"

"My superiors have agreed to send additional equipment to safeguard the planet from any more Kraken incursions. Now that they know some of what the Kraken were planning, Ravar has been upgraded to 'caretaker' status. If any unauthorized dimgates open on this world, a rapid-response team will react immediately. And we have installed new sensors to detect simultaneous dimgate activations."

"You still don't know why the Kraken gather negative forces, do you?" asked Balthus.

"No. That's the prize question."

"Do you think they will try it again?"

"I doubt it. They know we are ready for them. I don't think they will be back. It's not their style."

Balthus nodded understanding. "It's going to get awfully boring here."

"No. Not really. There's a lot to be done." Dieya stared suspiciously at Balthus. "You're worried that you won't have anything to do. Well, cease your worrying. Gerin's school idea has to be presented to the King, new sources of wealth have to be uncovered, and trade agreements need to be worked out."

"There's something to look forward to," Balthus said sarcastically. As Dieya talked school curriculum with Bo, Balthus sighed and let his luse fall back.

Riding into the valley, they saw an open dimgate shining bright, swirling blue against the bleak rocks. As they rode closer, their focus was drawn to the men moving around the area of the Sorcerer's base. Balthus dismounted and stared in surprise as he watched one man pick up a boulder the size of a luse and carry it away.

"What's wrong, Balthus?" said Bo. "Anyone from my world could lift that stone. The men in our world are strong."

Balthus narrowed his eyes. "It's a trick! Tell me how it's done, boy, or I'll test your strength."

"I owe you a couple of those." Bo laughed. "See the boxes on either side of the boulder? Well, it ah, they, let me see how to explain..."

"I see they don't teach the fine use of speech on your world."

Dieya came to Bo's rescue. "Balthus, you know how when you let something go it falls to the ground?"

"Of course. Where else would it go?"

Dieya ignored the question and continued. "There is a power in the planet that actually pulls the object down to the ground. It is called gravity. The boxes on the sides of that stone nullify the power of that gravity. They make the stone weigh as much or as little as necessary."

Balthus shook his head. "Amazing. There's going to be a lot to learn," he said and rubbed the back of his neck.

The group left their luses and walked slowly toward the gate. They knew it was time for farewells and this one came particularly hard. Balthus and Adrianna took turns hugging Janelle and Balthus kissed her on the cheek.

"Take care of yourself, Janelle," said Adrianna. "Go with care. Go with love."

They turned to Bo. Adrianna hugged him and ruffled his hair; Balthus gave him a big back-pounding hug. "You take care of yourself as well, Lad," said Balthus. They clasped hands warrior fashion.

Janelle gave Dieya a long kiss on the mouth. "I'll see you soon." Dieya smiled and waved.

Bo and Janelle walked toward the dimgate as casually as if they were walking in a park. They passed through. Balthus stared at the gate where they had disappeared. He turned to Dieya.

"Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that."

Adrianna hugged Dieya, kissed him on the cheek, and stepped back. Balthus grabbed him in a big bear hug.

"You take care of yourself, Dieya. Remember to be happy. That's what we're alive for."

They walked away and Dieya laughed.

"You two! You don't understand. I am not leaving. I will be here for at least a year."

Balthus looked back at Dieya as Adrianna extended her hand to Balthus. "No, it's you who doesn't understand," said Balthus. "The battle here is over, but it isn't for us." His face grew hard. "They tried to destroy my world and they killed Rory! Did you think we were going to forget that?"

He took Adrianna's hand and they ran.

Comprehension dawned on Dieya.

"NO!" he shouted.

He was too late. Hand in hand, Balthus and Adrianna reached the gate – and leaped.

E P I L O G U E

With its jeweled control room arched over its center, the Kraken Cross resembled a scorpion. But this stinger was more powerful than any poison. The jet-black Kraken Cross hung just outside of the Sirrila Cluster. Six giant dreadnoughts circled the Cross in a rotating pattern. These ships had been given no human classification. These ships had never been seen by humans.

In the core of the Cross, the giant machinery came to life. The pulsing lights and the throbbing sounds leveled out to a quiet hum. A droid checked the egg's control panel to make sure all was ready. Satisfied, it touched a button on the console. A two-way dimgate opened in front of the shiny silver egg. Seconds later, three battle droids emerged from the gateway and quickly scanned the area. Finding the area secure, one returned through the gate as the others took positions on either side of the portal in a gesture of respect, if such could be found in an animated mass of metal.

A man stepped through the gateway. He was an old man. Ancient would be a more accurate term. His silver hair reached to his shoulders and he wore a simple light-blue jumpsuit. His face was lined with wrinkles that had become crevasses with the passing of years, but his eyes were alive and bright with an almost alien intelligence.

He walked to the console and glanced down. "How much did we get?"

"Fifteen percent," answered the droid.

"Fifteen percent? That's all?"

"Fifteen percent," answered the droid, not understanding a rhetorical question.

"We'll call that experiment a failure then..." He pursed his lips in thought. "But fifteen percent is better than nothing."

He pushed a button on the console and the egg split in half lengthwise to reveal a padded chair. The old man climbed into the chair and made himself comfortable, sighing as he did so. Placing his finger over the button on the armrest, he looked at the droid.

"You may begin."

THE END

John Migacz was drawn at an early age to stories of action, adventure and inspiration, and he began searching for a medium for his overactive imagination. Misguided youthful exuberance interrupted this pursuit as he volunteered for the US Army, where he served with the 198th Infantry Brigade in Vietnam. After detours into the fields of photography, painting, and filmmaking, he discovered his passion for writing during his tenure as a computer administrator for a major telecommunications firm. When not writing, John spends his time indulging his grandchildren and annoying their parents.

John has written several novels, and numerous short stories and essays. He is currently crafting the third in the Dieya Chronicles series. John can be reached at www.johnmigacz.com.

BOOKS BY JOHN MIGACZ

THE DIEYA CHRONICLES

Incident on Ravar

The Beginning

Earth

Omega

OTHER TITLES

A Second Chance
