Jake was a side character in the Book of Richard, and I had always intended to use him somehow. I had a lot of ideas about tying in various Australian (and maybe other) agencies and groups interested in the Dreamlands for one reason or another.

As it turned out he totally ignored my wishes and moved to the Dreamlands to write his own story. There are two full books of material on Jake, but I think it will take one more to get him through the current arc. He has some big plans and has mentioned them in passing now and then, but they haven't been written down anywhere yet.

The Book of Jake consists of the following stories:

1. Thace
2. Fort Campbell
3. Fort Danryce
4. Bleth

Chapter 1

Jake pulled out the hard case and slipped on his sunglasses, relieved to see the harsh sunlight of the dunes reduced to a cooler shade. He carefully put the hard case back into the leather pouch on his belt. He didn’t wear his shades much these days because they attracted so much attention—they were probably the only ones in the Dreamlands, and highly reflective, too—but they sure helped as he peered outside the cave.

“Bug-eyed Jake! Can’t handle the sunshine, lover boy?”

“Got nothing against sunshine, Nadeen,” he grumbled. “This is way beyond sunshine, though. Your eyeballs made outta stone?”

“Practice,” she replied. “And a good kaffiyeh.”

“We had deserts in Australia, too,” he continued. “Spent a lot of time training in them and hating most every minute of it, but they never got this hot. Christ, you could boil fucking water in your hand out there!”

“It’s not that bad today; still early yet;” she countered. “Might be best to wait until dusk, but if you’d like to keep going and discover what ‘hot’ really mean I’ll be happy to accompany you.”

“Ah, no, but thanks. A little nap would be wonderful.”

The two of them sipped a little water, and Nadeen dripped a little between Beghara’s lips: she was still unconscious and sweating heavily in spite of the coolness of the cave.

Jake was exhausted.

He spread his mat and sat down, unlacing his leather boots and pulling them off with a grunt.

He didn’t miss wearing pants, but he really missed good boots. The boots he’d brought with him from Australia had finally given up the ghost last year, and there weren’t many shopping centers around he knew of. He’d come to appreciate the robes everyone wore here in the Eastern Desert, but their boots—or even worse, sandals—sucked.

He’d gone through desert training in Australia, of course, when he was in the SASR out of Campbell, but he’d spent most of his time in Borneo, Timor, and other jungles north of Australia rather than the deserts of the Middle East. In the jungle you needed good boots for several reasons, and he’d come to appreciate them over the years. The Special Air Service Regiment was the cream of the crop when it came to Aussie special forces, and they didn’t skimp on gear.

He recalled the ’scopes they’d had back then: lightweight binocs, and nightscopes. Once again he wished he’d thought to grab one of those when he left. All he had now was his shades, his Glock and a couple mags, and the Suunto.

Thank God for that Suunto compass. It sure saved their asses this time... Until now, at least. Now they could really use a little luck, and some salt tabs, and the compass didn’t offer either.

As Jake lay down, he placed the small box containing the amulet under his head, wrapped in some cloth to serve as a pillow. He wanted to keep it very close after all they’d been through.

It hadn’t started as a very difficult job...

* * *

They’d been relaxing after guarding one of Chóng’s merchanters from Pungar Vees to Rinar via Aphorat, enjoying a few days off with each other before the ship was loaded up for the trip back, when a messenger handed them a note.

Chóng’s people knew where they were staying, of course, but they hadn’t expected anyone to bother them yet.

The wax seal on the envelope showed that it was from Factor Humaydah, the woman in charge of Chóng’s operations in the Rinar region. Rinar being the hub city it was, she was a major player in Chóng’s trading empire.

Her office was located in one of Chóng’s huge warehouses, in the southern reach of the city.

It was bustling, of course, with horse-drawn carts shuttling in and out of the warehouse constantly, herded along by Chóng’s crew of workers. The office was also huge, with about a dozen workers scribbling in ledgers or scurrying about on various tasks, taking care twice that many customers.

Everyone was talking at once, and nobody seemed to be in charge.

Jake and Nadeen came to a halt just outside the doorway, staring hesitantly at the apparent chaos inside.

They’d been ordered to come but had no idea of exactly where to go... until a short, stocky man approached from the warehouse floor.

“You’re Nadeen? And Jake?”

Barely stopping to acknowledge their nods he turned and walked back into the warehouse, calling back over his shoulder: “Well, c’mon! Don’t just stand there!”

They looked at each other. Nadeen shrugged, and they trotted after him.

At the back of the warehouse, almost hidden in the shadows, was a staircase leading up. The guard at the bottom nodded to the man who had led them there, and stood aside to let them enter.

The woman waiting for them at the top of the stairs gestured down the hallway, a carpeted corridor serving quiet offices where people sweated over their paperwork and sums.

“This way, Mistress Nadeen, Master Jake.”

They followed her silently toward the closed door at the end of the corridor.

She knocked.

“Come!”

She announced them as she opened the door, “Mistress Nadeen and Master Jake.”

The room wasn’t as opulent as they’d expected... it was almost spartan, in fact.

A wide desk with stacks of parchment and scrolls, several chairs and benches, a maroon-and-blue prayer mat to one side, a small library of dozens of scrolls and even a few vellum-bound books, and her. Factor Humaydah.

The woman who’d led them here sat down silently in a chair next to the door and folded her hands.

The Factor looked up from her desk and laid down her quill.

An older woman, maybe in her fifties or sixties, she had a long, thin face and prominent cheekbones, contained in a black hijab that covered her ears and hair. A few wisps of grayish hair escaped its confines on the sides of her head.

Later, Jake couldn’t actually recall what she’d looked like, because all he could remember was the piercing gaze of those brown eyes. They saw him, saw through him, evaluated him, and decided he was a good man for the job, all in the merest fraction of a second before they shifted to Nadeen.

“You come highly rated,” she stated, skipping the introduction. “Factor Chóng says you can be trusted to get the job done.”

“Yes ma’am,” responded Jake. “We can.”

“I have a task that requires guards who can do what it takes. It’s an escort job and should take you about a month if all goes well.”

“Land or sea, Factor?” asked Nadeen.

“Land. You need to escort a woman from Dothur to Eudoxia. The most likely route would be the caravan route through Thace. Her carriage will have its own escort of a dozen troopers. You two will be in command.”

“That sounds simple enough,” mused Nadeen. “Who’s in the carriage?”

“Good,” said the factor, and waved them back toward the door again. “Your ship leaves in the morning.” She turned to the secretary, if that’s what she was, and continued “Give them funds for a month and anything else they need.”

Humaydah returned to her paperwork, and the secretary bowed and ushered us out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“The Factor has hired a swifter to take you to Dothur, called the Bella. It is waiting for you at the No. 8 Chóng wharf, and should get you there in three days. You will join Captain Feng’s party in Dothur, and take charge.”

She handed Nadeen a small scroll, and a leather bag shut with a drawstring.

“Fifty gold pieces. When you reach Dothur, Captain Feng will be waiting at The Silver Cockerel, just outside the dock area. You will receive an additional fifty when the mission is completed.”

“You people don’t waste any time, do you?” said Nadeen, hefting the bag.

“The Factor rewards well for the services she requires, but you would do well to uphold your part of the agreement,” the woman advised. “She does not appreciate those who let her down.”

“Is this just the two of us, or can we hire some troopers?”

“Master Jake, how you accomplish the task is entirely up to you. The Factor wants results, not questions.”

Nadeen raised her eyebrows.

“Well, then, I guess we’re done,” she said, and walked out the door with Jake.

They waited until they were a reasonable distance away to start talking.

“Quite an operation she’s got there... no wonder Chóng’s gotten as powerful as he has, with people like that working for him.”

Nadeen nodded. “I don’t think she even knows our names, really... just tools to push around as needed.”

“We can always just leave,” he said.

“You know you’re not serious... we’ve both sworn oaths to Chóng, and while I doubt he’d bother to chase us down, I’m not quite sure of her.”

“Fifty gold isn’t enough to live on for long anyway...” Jake laughed. “Notice she didn’t say who was in the carriage?”

“Or what... she didn’t forbid us from looking inside to find out, though, either.”

“So she said the carriage already has a dozen guards, but who knows if they’re any good. Could be palace flunkies in silk pantaloons for all we know.”

“Thinking the same thing,” she said, still walking with him. “How about just Danryce for now, and we can always hire more troopers in Dothur later once we see what we’ve got?”

“Works for me,” agreed Jake.

He’d been close friends with Danryce since he’d come to the Dreamlands—heck, he was practically the first person he’d met here! A huge Pargite, the black man was a master swordsman, and wielded a monstrous, two-handed sword that most men would have trouble swinging easily. He’d beaten Danryce at arm-wrestling once (and lost the next two times), but they’d become good friends since. He’d learned a lot about sword-fighting from the man, in return teaching him the intricacies of knife-fighting. Danryce had always relied on his sword and power, and had never learned just how useful a little dagger could be.

“I’m pretty sure he’s still in Rinar,” he continued. “Last I heard he was working on the docks, night watch or something on the merchanters.”

“Still working for Chóng?”

“After that Penglai mess he went to work for a mercenary company here, but ended up guarding Chóng’s ships anyway. We’ll find him quick enough if we just ask around at some of the taverns on the waterfront.”

“Are you inviting me on a date?

“Damn right, Nadeen! Nothing like cold ale to get a hot lady in my bed!”

She waved her hand to let him lead the way.

“Don’t get too drunk, Jake. If you get that hot lady in your bed you’ll have to hold up your end of the bargain, too.”

“Not a problem, drunk or sober,” he smiled, and they strolled on toward the water.

* * *

They found Danryce in the third tavern, arm-wrestling for ale. Friendly bets, with the loser paying for the winner’s refill, and judging by Danryce’s shouts and table-thumping, he’d already won quite a few times. He wasn’t drunk—quite—but he was certainly in a good mood.

The tavern was drenched in odors: sweat, spilled ale, tobacco and thagweed smoke, sawdust... a heady mixture that perfectly matched the raucous shouting and table-pounding coming from a table surrounded by onlookers, many of whom were paying off bets.

Danryce, bare from the waist up and shining like polished onyx in the light of the oil lamps, was smiling and flexing his fingers. The man across from him, a huge desert-tanned man with a hook nose, rose from his bench, massaging his right arm with a scowl.

Jake thumped down onto the empty bench, and slammed his palm into the wood tabletop.

“Do I have to beat you again to buy you an ale, or can we just skip that part?”

“Jake!” shouted Danryce, jumping up in joy and leaning over the table to embrace Jake in a bearhug. “Damn! Jake!”

“Hey, Danny. How ya been, man?” he responded, slapping Danryce’s shoulder half in greeting and half in panic because he couldn’t breathe.

They broke, and when Danryce saw Nadeen he immediately tried to hug her, too, but she backpedaled fast enough to escape.

“Hi, Danryce,” she said. “What’s a girl gotta do around here to get a drink anyway?”

“Master!” bellowed Danryce in a voice that shook the rafters. “Ale! Ale for my friends!”

The serving man promptly brought more ale: a massive mug that must have held a liter for Danryce, and more reasonable sizes for Jake and Nadeen.

Danryce flipped him a few silver tiaras: “Bring a keg, would you, lad? We’ve got some serious drinking to do and I can’t be shouting for more ale every five minutes.”

The man smiled, pocketed the coins, and vanished into the smoky darkness.

As the onlooking crowd began to disperse, the three of them sat down and bumped mugs in a toast “To old friends!”

Danryce chugged down about half his ale in one breath, and set his mug down.

“Good to see you again after all this time.”

“And you, Danny,” replied Jake. “See you’re still beating up innocent bystanders.”

“Ain’t nobody innocent in this place, Jake!” he laughed. “So what are you two up to these days? Still with Chóng?”

“Yep,” said Nadeen. “Good money from people we can trust. Came over on a merchanter a few days ago; guard duty.”

“I hate ships... hey, I thought you did, too, Jake?”

“Still do, but they needed a few guards and we figured it’d be a good way to see the city. Nadeen’s been here before, but not me.”

“So how is it?”

“Pretty much the same as every other city, I guess. Walls, people, markets, pickpockets, temples, minarets...”

“Yeah, but I’ve come to like it. No snow.”

Jake gave a noncommittal grunt and drained his mug. “You got anymore ale in that keg you’re guarding?”

Danryce hefted the keg and sloshed refills into everyone’s mugs. He shook the keg and listened, shaking his head. “Kegs used to hold more... musta brought me a half-full one again.”

He took another swig, belched, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“So are you here to drink my health, or...?”

Jake leaned forward, dropping his voice a bit.

“Humaydah herself wants us to handle an escort job, from Dothur to some place called Eudoxia. Ever heard of it?”

“Sure, True Carpet and all. Never been there, though. Dangerous?”

“Who knows?” said Nadeen. “It’s a carriage with a dozen escorts already. She wants us to take charge, so it sounds like she’s scared of something.”

“Who’s in the carriage?”

“She didn’t say; we didn’t push it.”

“And...?”

“And we were wondering if you’ve got anything planned for the next few weeks.”

“Standard wages?”

“Oh, I think we can do a little better than that,” smiled Jake, handing over a handful of gold coins. “And more later when we get paid the rest.”

Danryce reached across the table to grasp Jake’s wrist to seal the deal, the other hand reaching out to Nadeen simultaneously. They grasped his wrists in the usual Dreamlands “wristshake” and then they were three.

Chapter 2

The voyage to Dothur was straightforward. The Bella was a lot smaller than they’d expected, built for speed. Nadeen pointed out that with the shallow draft and speedy design, it would be perfect for smuggling, even if it didn’t have that much cargo space.

Jake wondered why a major trading company like Chóng’s would need a smuggling ship, but realized that they might not be welcome in every port... Every government has its “off the books” arrangements, he chuckled to himself, recalling a vicious little firefight he’d been in years ago in New Guinea, wearing a uniform with no identifying markings...

Blessed with good weather and a steady wind, they made Dothur on the third day, a little ahead of schedule.

They thanked the captain, who hadn’t said two words to them the whole trip, and located The Silver Cockerel.

Caring for their animals was always a critical task, but they also had to care for their weapons, purchase supplies (including a few sheafs of arrows), and pack everything to distribute the weight reasonably. Danryce was by far the heaviest, and even though he also got the largest horse, his steed carried less in its panniers. This time, though, they’d be crossing the desert, which might mean using both camels and horses.

While Danryce and Nadeen were making preparations, Jake sought out the carriage and its dozen guards. The guards were in the rooms on both sides of a third room where, he guessed, the mysterious woman they were escorting was hidden.

The group was led by a clean-shaven Asian man, who acted a lot more experienced and professional than Jake had expected. He was a head shorter than Jake but with narrow waist and broad shoulders. His muscles and scars made it clear he’d been around.

He was dressed in well-worn tunic and leather, and armed with paired long and short swords.

Jake handed over the letter of introduction, Humaydah’s wax seal yet unbroken.

“So you’re Jake,” said Feng, sizing him up. “The letter’s bona fide, but let me see your famous glasses.”

Jake cocked his head, then nodded. It was as good a proof as the letter, maybe better. He pulled his shades out of their pouch and slipped them on. The mirror lenses cut the afternoon sunlight from brilliant glare to familiar muted colors.

“Good enough for me,” said the Asian, finally reaching out for the standard wrist-shake. “Feng of Oxuhahn. Might be hard to hide in those, though... I could spot them from klicks away!”

“Jake of Penglai,” replied Jake, putting them away again. “I don’t hide much. Usually people try to hide from me.”

“I see you came in with two others... all three of you will be going with us?”

“Yes. Nadeen of Lhosk and Danryce of Parg. Nadeen and I are still working for Chóng and are here at the request of Factor Humaydah. Danryce worked with us for years but is a free lance now, working for us.”

“A large man with a large sword.”

“And he knows how to use it. That’s why he’s with us,” said Jake. “Maybe we can continue this conversation inside over some ale?”

“Excellent idea,” agreed Feng, and they stepped out of the sunlit courtyard into the dim building.

As they continued their talk over warm ale they discovered that they had a lot in common, mostly that they were both professional military men who avoided revealing much about their past experiences. Feng had the advantage, because Jake and his “mirror eyes” already had quite a reputation among Chóng’s people.

Feng ran his own small troop, working as mercenaries or guards. Right now he was also working for Chóng, he admitted, without explaining precisely who he answered to. He and his troop—himself, eleven guards, and a guide—had brought the carriage this far, and the Factor had instructed them to wait here and transfer command to Jake.

He never mentioned just where they had come from, Jake noticed.

“So who’s in the carriage?” he asked.

“I don’t know myself,” replied Feng. “It’s a woman, but whoever it is, she’s important to somebody.”

“Betrothal?”

“That’s my guess. I don’t know if this is something Chóng is doing to cement a relationship with one of the warlords out here, or if Humaydah was just hired by someone, but they’re paying good money to get it done right.”

“Are you being paid by Humaydah?”

“Yes, half in advance, half upon safe delivery to Eudoxia. Plus generous expenses in advance.”

Jake nodded. “Same.”

He didn’t ask exactly what amounts were involved.

“Tell me what I need to know about your people.”

“We’ve all been through it; even the new lad’s got four or five years under his belt. And we’ve all worked together for at least two years. A few of them have been with me for a dozen.”

“Any people problems I need to know about?”

“None. Troopers who cause problems don’t stay. The only problem we’ve got right now is that they don’t know you or your people. They trust me, and if I say I trust you that’ll help, but I think there’ll be some hesitation until things settle out.”

“Maybe we can work out some of those issue tonight, then,” said Jake. “A little wrestling with some free ale to help work out the kinks?”

Feng raised his mug. “That’s be a big help. Arm wrestling or real wrestling?”

“Both?”

“Deal.”

“What else?”

“The carriage is tough, and my people are tightening it up now just to be sure, but if we have to leave the trade route and head into the rough, the carriage is going to be a problem.”

“Spare cartwheel?”

“Yes, and tools, if it comes to that.”

“Can we ditch it and just take the woman with us if we have to?”

“They told me no.”

“Hmm.” Jake thought for a moment. “Humaydah told me I had to escort a woman to Eudoxia, but didn’t say I had to escort the carriage.”

“Not my call,” said Feng. “but hopefully we won’t have to make that choice. You won’t have to make that choice. It’s been a quiet trip thus far.”

“Where did you start from?”

“Up north,” replied Feng vaguely, obviously unwilling to go into details.

Jake let it ride.

“Are you familiar with the route from here?”

Feng nodded.

“Been in this area for some years now, and on this road a few times. Yeah, I know it pretty well. So do about half my force.”

“I’m familiar with deserts and jungles, Captain, but I’ve never been to this desert before. I’m gonna need your help and advice once we get started... Can I count on you to speak up?”

“Yessir, you can,” replied Feng. “And I’m damn glad you brought it up, because I expect I’ll need to, and it helps to know you’ll listen.”

“Didn’t say I’ll follow your advice, but I’m definitely gonna listen,” nodded Jake.

Feng pulled out a map and unrolled it onto the table, pushing aside a small ale spill with his arm.

“Thace is here,” he explained, tapping the map. “It’s an oasis a couple days’ ride east from the Dothur, and surrounded by desert. It’s not a big city because it’s not a big oasis, but it commands the only real trade route between here and there. There are a lot of tiny villages scattered about, of course.”

“Why not just cut through the forest here? It’s less than half the distance...” wondered Jake.

“Nobody goes into that forest and comes out again,” said Feng. “The jungles of Cuppar-Nombo do not welcome visitors.”

Jake filed that tidbit away for future reference.

“OK. So who do we deliver the woman to?”

“Ganzorig, First Lord of the city.”

“Not a king?”

“The city is said to be under the protection of Thuba Mleen.”

Jake took another sip of ale.

“The mysterious Emperor of the Eastern Desert... does he exist?”

“Who knows? He’s been around for as long as anyone remembers, and has one hell of a palace up north, on the edge of the desert. I’ve met people who claim to have encountered his palatial tents on the desert, saved from certain death only by the sheerest chance. Truth? Boasts? I don’t know. Never wanted to go visit that palace myself and find out, considering the tales going around.

“One rumor says those lost in the desert and dying of thirst will meet Thuba Mleen, and be offered a chance at life.”

“A chance?”

“A roll of the dice, they say. Life or death.”

“Maybe we should add some more waterskins to the load...”

“Or wineskins!” suggested Feng. “Do you have a spyglass?”

“Yes. Always.” Jake had a collapsible telescope in his pack. Not as good as what he used to have, but better than nothing.

“Here’s a shimmer and a bag of incense.”

“What’s a shimmer?” asked Jake, looking at the blob of silver hanging from a chain. “Lucky charm?”

“Charm, yes. Hopefully a lucky one. It’s a glamour made for the desert. It makes an area about a hundred meters across hard to see. Anyone who gets reasonably close will spot it, of course, but from a hundred or two hundred meters away, you have a good chance of not being spotted. We use it when we camp. It also cuts the heat and light a little, which is nice in the desert.”

“Neat! I coulda used one of these a few years ago! I gather they don’t work on water...”

“Water moves too much; breaks the illusion. Can’t use it when you’re walking or riding, either.”

“Pity. How do you turn it on?”

“Just light the incense. It lasts six or eight hours, and while it’s smoking, the glamour is active. When the incense burns out, so does the shimmer.”

Jake nodded and slipped amulet and incense into his pack.

The talk turned to details of the route, carriage, the individual guards, column formation, and other matters. They inspected the carriage, mounts, and supplies together, and agreed to meet again later to get to know everyone better.

* * *

They pretty much had the room to themselves... there were two men still talking and drinking at a table to the side, but the dozen troopers making up Feng’s group dominated the room, and other patrons found reasons to go elsewhere. No doubt they’d had experience with the sort of mischief a bunch of drunken troopers could get into, and decided they could get safer drinks elsewhere this night.

Jake didn’t blame them—he didn’t know these people, but if all went well he expected quite a bit of “mischief” tonight. He’d already slipped the tavern owner a few gold pieces, hoping that by paying for broken furniture in advance he could keep things a bit simpler.

Everyone was armed, of course, but most of them had unbuckled their bigger weapons and laid them down at hand, feeling safe in their lodging and the company of their friends.

As Jake walked in with Nadeen and Danryce the conversation stopped, replaced shortly by a quiet murmur as Feng’s troop looked them over. Feng immediately walked up to greet them, welcoming Jake into the room with a wrist-grip, then turning to the others.

“This is Jake of Penglai... some of you have heard of Mirror-Eyed Jake, or already met him today.” He waved in the direction of the other two. “Nadeen of Lhosk, and Danryce of Parg. They’ve all worked with Chóng, and I trust them.”

He lifted his ale mug.

“More to the point, he’s paying for the ale!”

There was a cheer from the watching warriors, and the buzz of conversation started up again.

“Captain Feng tells me you’re all professionals. Looking at the way you’re guzzling my ale, I guess he must be right... Doesn’t look to me like any of you are any good at wrestling, though. Pity.”

A mug slammed down on the table, and a tall man—about as tall as Danryce, but with drooping mustache and a long grey braid hanging behind—stood. He twisted his head around and bounced his shoulders up and down, loosening them up.

“Well, I guess maybe your eyes aren’t as good as you think. Long of Ophir.”

He stepped forward and shoved an empty table out of the way.

“You show ’em, Sarge!” came a shout from the back, and all of a sudden everyone was moving tables and benches out of the way to clear a large space. The floorboards were scattered with straw and sawdust, and stained with ale and other, less appealing things.

“Want me to take this one, Jake?” asked Danryce.

“That’s Sergeant Long,” said Feng. “He’s pretty good at wrestling...”

“Is he now,” murmured Jake, unbuckling his swordbelt and dropping it on a nearby table. “I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we...”

He stepped forward, looking up into Long’s eyes—Jake was about ten centimeters shorter.

“Friendly match? We’ve got a job to do tomorrow.”

“Sure, cap’n. I’ll be very friendly!” laughed Long, stretching out a massive hand to wrist-grip Jake as the onlookers laughed and jockeyed for a better place to watch from.

They gripped once, then separated to take positions a few meters apart from each other.

Almost in synchrony they stripped down to loincloths and bare feet. Long slapped his hand into a nearby platter of meat, and smeared the grease over his torso. Jake bared his teeth and lowered his head a bit more.

There were very few “rules” about wrestling, and it was certainly more than just grappling. Kicks, punches, and throws were common, and a variety of martial arts had crept in one way or another: it was free-form fighting. They’d agreed to a “friendly” match, though, which meant no weapons, and that they’d try to avoid any serious injuries that might interfere with the jobs tomorrow.

Still, accidents happen.

They began slowly circling each other, looking for an unexpected opening.

Long suddenly surged forward, his left foot stamping down into the floorboards with a rattling thump.

Jake didn’t react, and a split-second later Long danced to the right, kicking his left up in a furious swing that could have toppled a small tree.

Jake stepped back just enough to let it pass, slapping his hands onto the other’s calf and giving him a good shove.

Long took a small hop away from Jake, body no longer facing Jake directly, off balance and on one leg.

Jake’s own foot kicked forward, smashing into Long’s right leg, and Long collapsed, his head narrowly missing a too-close bench.

Jake danced back again, hands loose and ready in front of his chest, feet light on the floor.

Long was back up in an instant, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, back and forth, checking if anything hurt.

Apparently it didn’t, because he hunkered down a bit more and advanced toward Jake, ready for another kick.

Jake dropped, and kicked out low, aiming for Long’s ankle—and missed as Long jumped into the air, letting loose a sledgehammer kick toward Jake’s head.

Jake dove to the side as the other’s foot missed his temple by a finger’s width, neatly rolling and springing to his feet again.

Expecting Long to be on the attack, he dropped and spun, ready to defend, and caught Long’s punch right into his solar plexus, a perfect shot that collapsed him to the floor gasping and groaning for breath.

Long slowly rose from his crouch, breathing heavily.

“Enough?”

“Enough,” gasped Jake, or tried to, still unable to draw enough breath to speak. He hit the floor with his palm to signal his surrender.

“Good,” sighed Long, collapsing onto a bench and massaging his thigh, where Jake had kicked him. “Leg hurts like a summabitch; don’t think I could’ve kept it up much longer...”

Still wheezing on the floor, Jake sat up.

“Good punch you’ve got there,” he wheezed.

Long stretched out an arm and helped Jake up onto the bench.

“I guess you’ll do OK,” he said, offering Jake a mug of ale.

“And I guess maybe you aren’t so bad at wrestling after all,” replied Jake, his voice almost back to normal. “Of course, they can whip me every time, you know,” he added, pointing to Nadeen and Danryce.

“Can they now,” mused Long. “Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

He turned to look at the crowd.

“Hey, Seri! Get your skinny little ass up here!”

A tall, thin woman stood. Her head was completely hairless, even her brows and lashes, and head and body both were covered in intricate tattoos from top to bottom.

Nadeen stepped forward.

Again, Feng’s choice was the taller, but Nadeen’s chunky body looked significantly heavier and more muscular.

“Serilarinna of Cydathria,” said the tall woman.

“I recognized your tattoos,” said Nadeen. “I’m not familiar with your tribe, sorry to say, but the blue falcon on your shoulder tells me all I need to know.”

“You bear no tattoos,” replied the other.

“No need,” smiled Nadeen. “I’m a natural.”

The two women faced off against each other: Nadeen with cropped black hair and a short, stocky build, Seri tall, hairless, and brilliantly tattooed. Both stood motionless, studying their opponent and waiting for an opening, Nadeen with knees slightly bent and arms half-stretched out forward, Seri standing straight, legs only slightly separated and arms straight at her sides.

There was a tiny whisper from one of the onlookers, and then silence.

Seconds passed.

Suddenly both women leapt into the air, Nadeen high and Seri low, and there was a furious tangle of arms and legs, and the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Grunting, both women hit the floor. Seri landed on her feet, Nadeen on her side, rolling to jump up immediately.

They froze again, panting as they glared at each other.

Somebody let out an explosive breath, unable to bear the tension.

Nadeen slowly, ever so slowly, began sliding her right foot forward, leaning into it. A millimeter, five, ten... she stopped, and her left foot began sliding forward from behind, her body slowly rising with it

Seri’s leg snapped out with incredible speed and absolutely no warning, a straight kick to Nadeen’s knee that was almost impossible to see... or stop.

Nadeen didn’t try to stop it, she merely rolled to the side, smashing her fist into Seri’s calf as she fell. She pulled her body into a ball and rolled farther away from the other woman.

Seri crashed to the floor only a few centimeters from Nadeen, knee ramming into the floorboards with an audible thump. Nadeen, still trying to get out of reach, tried to defend herself, but the edge of Seri’s hand managed to get through, somehow, chopping into Nadeen’s right arm.

Nadeen twisted her body away, and simultaneously kicked into Seri’s injured calf.

Seri wobbled, off-balance for a second, and Nadeen took advantage of the instant to break free.

The women faced each other once again, this time Nadeen standing, half-hunched, massaging her right arm, holding it folded up against her chest. Seri stood tall as always, but one leg was bent, off the floor. She tried to stand on it and quickly abandoned the trial in pain.

“I think you need no falcon after all,” said Seri, eyes fixed on Nadeen.

“And I think yours is well deserved,” replied the other woman. “Can you stand?”

“In a few minutes; it’s not broken,” said Seri, relaxing and dropping to sit on a bench. “Your arm?”

“I hope it’s not broken, but that’s a hell of a strike you’ve got!” Someone in the watching crowd pushed another bench forward. “Maybe call it even before we get serious?”

“Yes, let’s. I’d hate to hurt you so badly you couldn’t come,” smiled Seri.

Nadeen bared her teeth. “You probably could, at that... but you’d not be going, either!”

“Master! Another round for everyone!” shouted Jake, and the innkeeper stepped back from the crowd of spectators to scurry off for more ale.

Conversation bubbled up again as they began dissecting the fine points of the fight. A few of the younger troopers hadn’t even been able to see what had happened, it was so fast. Jake noticed a few wagers being paid off.

Sergeant Long, sipping a new mug of ale, cocked his head as he looked at Danryce.

“So you gave me a good run for my money, and said both of them could beat you...”

“Yup,” said Jake, noncommittally.

“And she seems pretty even with Seri, who’s probably the best wrestler I’ve ever known...”

“Yup.”

“And this big guy—Danny, did you call him?—still hasn’t gotten up off his bench...”

“Nope.”

Jake took a gulp of his own ale.

“Danny-boy doesn’t like working for free,” he said, leaning forward toward Long. “Now, if one of your troopers is silly enough to bet him a mug of ale on arm-wrestling, I imagine he’d love a free drink.”

“Win a mug of ale off us in arm-wrestling!?” guffawed Long. “As it happens some us like free drinks, too!”

He turned to his fighters.

“Hey, Danny here says he’ll buy you a drink if you beat him in arm-wrestling.”

Everyone turned to look at him, falling quiet for a moment.

One middle-aged woman smacked her hands flat against the table-top, pushing herself up off the bench.

“I’m never one to turn down free ale!” she said, picking up her mug and draining it in a single gulp before slamming it back down on the table.

“Go to it, Beghara!”

“Remember what she did to that mason back in Ilarnek? He’s big but she’ll take him, she always does.”

She walked over to where Danryce was sitting. She was almost as tall as he was, and almost as broad.

“Axe?” asked Jake.

“Double-sided axe,” confirmed Feng. “Has a habit of cutting people in two.”

Jake nodded. Quite a bit different than boasting you could put one through a rabbit’s eye at a thousand meters, but he’d gotten used to it.

She took a seat opposite Danryce.

“Beghara of Baharna.”

“Danryce of Parg.”

They shifted their weight on the benches, finding firm footing. Left hand stretched out to grasp table edges, and their right hands grasped each other.

“Captain Feng, would you...?” Jake motioned toward the two, inviting Feng to serve as referee.

Feng bobbed his head in thanks, and stepped over to take a knee at one end of the table.

“Trooper?” he called, inviting Nadeen to do the same from the opposite end.

She shook her arm and flexed her fingers once more, then knelt down across from Feng as a second referee.

Danryce, gripping Beghara’s hand securely, suddenly turned to Jake: “Hey, Jake? Would you get me a refill on the ale? It’s running a little low.”

As he was speaking, looking away, Beghara gave a grunt and her body tensed. She concentrated all of her considerable strength into her arm, determined to slam the his hand into the table while he was distracted.

Danryce didn’t seem to notice, and held out his mug with his left hand for Jake to refill. His right arm didn’t even tremble.

Beghara roared, kicking the bench backwards out from under her and bracing her feet solidly on the floor. Red in the face, teeth clenched, she screamed as her bicep swelled even larger, fingers white with pressure.

Danryce turned back to face her, new mug in hand.

“Oh, did you start already?” he asked kindly, not even out of breath. “My apologies.”

He took a sip of the ale.

“Sorry. Shall we get on with it, then?”

Ignoring Beghara’s efforts completely, he set the mug down and inquired pleasantly, “On the count of three, OK?”

“One...”

Beghara’s feet shifted again, and she leaned more of her upper body weight over the table.

“Two...”

Beghara tried to scream with rage but only a squeak came out.

“Three.”

Her arm began to move, slowly but smoothly, backwards toward the tabletop.

Danryce was smiling, but he put his mug down and gripped the table edge with his left hand for leverage.

It was over in a few seconds.

The back of her hand kissed the tabletop, and Danryce held it there until she relaxed.

“I owe you an ale,” she said, her hand still lying limp on the table.

“Well then, you’ll have to join me,” said Danryce, handing her his own (almost untouched) mug. “That’s a mighty good grip you’ve got there...”

“Not good enough by half,” she grimaced. “Never had any problem with it before.”

“Not enough ale,” he smiled, and waved for a new mug full.

“Impressive,” observed Feng quietly, studying Danryce.

“Give it a try?” invited Jake. “I’m sure Danny would love another free ale...”

“No, everything seems to be going well as it is. No point in getting everyone all fired up again,” declined Feng. “Still, I can beat Beghara, you know...”

Jake smiled and leaned towards the other man.

“And I can beat Danny,” he replied. “Most of the time, anyway...”

Feng grinned. “Next time, then.”

“Next time,” Jake agreed, and they raised mugs to clink in a promise.

Chapter 3

The next morning they were up with the sun, preparing for the first stage of their journey.

The two groups were still not well integrated, but at least they accepted each other as professionals, and everyone—as far as Jake could tell, anyway—could live with that and get the job done.

He wasn’t quite sure how to handle that couple in Long’s dozen, though... He couldn’t care less what other people’s sexual preferences were as long as they didn’t try to impose them on others. The fact that two men—Bjørn and Renweard—were married to each other was fine, but having them in the same dozen seemed dangerous. If they had to make a choice between the mission and their husband, which would it be?

He tapped Feng on the shoulder and pulled him aside, letting Nadeen and Feng’s two sergeants handle things.

“We’ve been in that situation,” advised Feng. “Bjørn had to make a hard call, whether to cover Renweard or the group, and chose the group. As it happens we were able to break the ambush, thanks to Seri and Khairi, and saved Renweard. We lost Khairi and another trooper, and Renweard was out of action for a few weeks, but Bjørn didn’t hesitate that I saw.”

“Good, thanks,” nodded Jake. “I prefer people who leave their wives—or husbands—at home, and want everyone to stay alive so they can get back home. Never had a couple in the ranks before.”

“They’ve been through some hard places, Jake. They’re solid.”

Just then a woman stepped out of the inn, completely concealed in a burka. Even her eyes, hidden deep within the hood, were hidden from view.

She seemed to be of average height and build, judging from what he could see through the burka, and walked easily, so unlikely to be old or infirm. Could be a cute bride-to-be, could be.

She stepped into the carriage without a word, and another woman climbed in after. The second woman was dressed in more casual garb but also with niqab and eye veil hiding most of her face. She also had well-worn twin daggers sheathed obviously on her thighs.

The carriage was a light-weight, two-wheeled affair with a wooden roof and curtains hanging all around. The curtains were heavy enough to hide the faces of the riders, but their silhouettes should still be visible. Hopefully the breeze will get through, he thought, or it’s gonna get pretty warm in there.

They were taking the caravan route Eudoxia, which meant about ten days to Thace, a day or two to rest, and then another week or so to Eudoxia.

Jake studied the map again. It would be so much quicker to cut through the forest, northeast straight to Eudoxia. Or even start in Despina instead of Dothur, but that would mean a longer trip through the desert on a less-traveled route, instead of using the well-established caravan route they would be taking.

And even if Feng warned that nobody ever goes into the forest, at least they’d be walking through grasslands and along the coast: far better than more hot sand!

The guide was a local man, Malchinkhüü. He was a bearded, taciturn man with a dark, weather-worn face. Dressed in well-used robes and an off-white kaffiyeh, he could have been any of a hundred men lounging about the market. According to Feng, he’d been guiding caravans throughout the Liranian Desert and Cuppar-Nombo for decades. They’d worked together several time in the past, he added.

“He’s in it for the money, no question, but he does what he’s paid to do and does it well. No rumors about him.”

“But rumors about other people?”

“Every time a caravan vanishes there are rumors.”

“How frequent is that?”

“One out of every three or four caravans gets attacked somehow, usually losing an animal or two, a few men. A couple caravans a year never make it. Sometimes the battleground is discovered later, but usually the desert reclaims it all.”

“The route is patrolled, correct?”

“Yes, sporadically. Troops from Dothur, Thace, and Eudoxia are common, even Despina, sometimes, but there’s an awful lot of desert out there, and lots of places to hide.”

“Why doesn’t the route go through the Hills of Noor, here, instead of Thace?”

“It’s shorter, that’s all. There is a route from Thace to the mountain-fed lakes of Noor, but their waters vanish into the desert all too soon.”

He pointed to the map again.

“There is also a route from Thace due east, through the mountains here to Adelma and the Night Ocean. Dothur to Thace to Eudoxia is the shortest, quickest route. Unless you fly over the forest.”

“Why didn’t Humaydah just fly the woman there? Would’ve been a lot faster...”

Feng shrugged.

“She’s not stupid. There must be some good reason. I’d guess she worries more about attacks from the air than from the desert.”

Jake looked out over his command: Feng’s troop of a dozen, Malchinkhüü, the two mysterious women in the carriage, Nadeen, Danny, and himself. Eighteen in all.

In addition to the two women, the carriage also carried an ample supply of water.

Feng said the caravan route was well-marked and well-traveled, and most caravans would share water in need. He didn’t expect any problems, but mentioned the possibility of bringing along some camels just to be safe. Jake was unsure, because camels were so slow.

The ancient roads networking through the desert were paved stone, marked by eroded stone pillars sculpted in bizarre shapes. For the most part they were kept free of sand by minor magics, but there were always tales of sandstorms that buried roads—and caravans—or unknown roads suddenly exposed after millennia, leading to forgotten cities that should have stayed buried in the shifting sands. Assuming all went well, horses would be better because they could travel two or three times faster than camels. Camels could carry enormous loads, but only moved about as fast as a man could walk.

Their only loads this time were the carriage and their own supplies—food and water, mostly—and they expected to make good time.

He decided to stick with horses, opting for speed over load, and increasing their dependence on water. Camels could go without drinking for a week, but not horses.

Jake put Danryce up front with a small dark woman named Ridhi Chabra, who looked like she might be Indian or Pakistani. Feng recommended her for scouting, commenting she was silent and deadly, but better scouting or infiltrating than in a melee. He knew from personal experience that Danryce, in spite of his bulk, could move swiftly and quietly. And he was very good in a melee.

The guide, Malchinkhüü, and the rest of Feng’s six joined Nadeen around the carriage, while Sergeant Long’s half-dozen brought up the rear. He would stay mobile, moving along the tightly spaced column as he felt the need. He didn’t expect too many surprises with Danryce on top and Long watching the tail.

He checked with Feng once again, as Feng was far more familiar with the route than he was. Feng didn’t seem to have any difficulty bringing up potential problems, which he appreciated, and had said they didn’t expect any surprises, but then again... if nobody expected trouble why had Humaydah hired him? Or not just flown the woman?

Feng didn’t suggest any adjustments to the plan. It may have been overkill, but Jake always liked keeping the pucker factor as low as possible. Feng was a pro, too... he knew the drill.

He scanned the column once more, not so much looking for anything in particular as just trying to catch anything that looked out of place.

He nodded to Feng, who gave the long whistle to move out, and the wheels began to roll.

The horses were trotting, which wouldn’t tire them much. They’d stop every hour or so to give the horses a chance to catch their breath and drink, and should be able to make forty kilometers a day, give or take. And still have energy to run away from something if they had to. The coastal region of Cuppar-Nombo was as hot as the desert, but very, very humid, and troopers and horses both would need water to stay cool.

Outside the city walls and past the rough shacks and odors of the unfortunates living outside the city proper, the road straightened out, passing through farmland—mostly rice paddies, with vegetable or barley fields every so often—and tiny clumps of houses not yet big enough to call a village. To the west was the Sea of Thul, and across the eastern horizon stretched the dark jungle of Cuppar-Nombo.

He kept a close eye on Feng’s troopers because he hadn’t worked with them before, but was quite pleased... he was especially happy to see his fears about the couple, Bjørn and Renweard, were unfounded. They stayed alert, eyes trained outwards, and made no effort to stick together. When on the job, at least, their minds were on the job, too. Good.

Danryce and Ridhi were way out in front, keeping a good distance. Every so often one of them would leave the main road to investigate someone or something, while the other would hang back.

Good visibility around here, for the most part, so it was a lot easier to scout, and unexpected surprises a lot less likely.

Plenty of water, too.

After about an hour he signaled Danryce, who rode onto the next good watering place—the road forded through a fairly wide stream, with grassy banks perfect for resting the horses—and dismounted. The rest of the caravan followed suit as they reached the ford, and Feng called out a few people to keep an eye out while the rest of them rechecked the loads and animals.

The two women stepped out of the carriage, too, but Jake still couldn’t tell anything about the mysterious lady hidden in the burka. She even kept her face hidden when she drank.

Throughout the day he moved up and down along the column, getting to know everyone on a more personal level, and letting them see that he might not be that bad after all. In particular, he wanted to check on how the married men—Bjørn and Renweard—handled things.

Renweard, a big, bearded man, looked to be in his forties, he guessed, while taller, slender Bjørn was maybe a decade younger. They both struck him as professionals, and he noted that while they sat next to each other at rest, they usually stayed apart from each other on the road.

Jake guided his horse over to Renweard.

“How long you’ve been with Captain Feng?”

“Must be almost a dozen years now... He hired me down in Zaïs after he lost a few troopers to the Rot.”

“The Rot?”

“The blue mold from the southernmost jungles... it’s usually only found deep in the hottest, wettest jungle, but every so often it pops up in Zaïs, or the lands of King Kynaratholis, or even Cydathria.”

“Deadly?”

“It’ll eat you alive if you’re unlucky. I was lucky.”

“You contracted it yourself?”

“I had a mild case. My wife bathed me in vinegar for a week until it was gone.”

“Your wife? You mean Bjørn?”

“Bjørn’s my husband. Things change.”

Damn, thought Jake. Dangerous subject.

“Once you recover, can you still catch it?”

“Unfortunately. I haven’t, though.”

“Feng tells me he’s been throughout this whole region, from Shiroora Shan through Cydathria. You been with him all that time?”

“Yup. We’ve been beyond Cydathria, though... once we went all the way to Theth. Damn spiders. Lost a couple of good troopers in that damned jungle.”

“Strange... all jungles and deserts down here... you ever see snow?”

“Sure! We’ll probably see some this time, too. The mountains of Noor are almost always snow-capped, even if the desert around them is hot enough to fry bacon.”

Jake recalled seeing the mountains on the map. It hadn’t occurred to him they might be that tall, but it would explain where the water in the oases up there came from.

They passed by another faceless, unidentifiable roadway column.

“You have any idea what these statues are of? Or who made them?”

Renweard shuddered and turned away, looking out in the farmlands instead.

“Nope. And I’m glad I’ve never seen one clearly.”

“Me too,” said Jake. “Me, too.”

They traveled north along the coast throughout the day, stopping every so often for a rest as the forest grew closer and closer, until the sun began to slip toward the horizon.

Jake cantered up to join the two scouts, and asked them to start looking for a good spot for the night. He was pleasantly surprised to see Danryce turn to Ridhi.

“Ridhi? You’re more familiar with the area...”

She thought for a moment, then nodded.

“About half an hour ahead of us is a small village, which should have an inn. We might as well enjoy the comforts while we can.”

“Works for me,” said Jake. “Lead on!”

The village wasn’t even that, really... it was basically an inn for travelers on the trading road, with a few houses clustered nearby, surrounded by fields. An ancient stone bridge spanned the broad, placid river, and the inn’s front gate and stables could be seen on the other side.

The inn itself was a strange combination of ancient, old, and new... the stone walls seemed to be as old as the road itself, weathered over the centuries, and the woodwork had been patched and fixed and replaced so many times it was impossible to tell what the original inn might have looked like. If it had even been an inn.

The sign at the front gate was fairly new, though, the carven words still standing out in white against the darker wood of the signboard: Snailsworn.

“A strange name,” mused Jake.

“An old and honorable one in these parts,” said Malchinkhüü. “Once the snails saved Dothur from the jungle.”

“Snails!?”

“Not garden snails, Captain,” the guide corrected. “Giant snails, the size of your head, or larger if legend is to be believed. You can still see them here and there along the road, if you look.”

He looked. It occurred to him that what he had thought were rocks scattered among the rice seedlings were actually snails, moving so slowly he hadn’t really noticed.

“Doesn’t seem to me that snails could move fast enough to protect anybody from anything.”

“The story goes that in return for being free to wander the paddies, the snails would keep the jungle at bay. It is said that they even slimed the city walls with something toxic, killing off the vines trying to tear them down and reclaim the land.”

“Did it work?”

“City’s still there,” snorted Malchinkhüü, and led his horse off toward the stable.

Feng, who had been listening, broke in.

“Don’t know how much truth there is to the tale, but it’s a fact that snails cover the city walls, and vines can’t seem to climb it. The farms close to the jungle that try to farm barley or corn, in dry fields instead of paddies, have to burn the jungle back every few weeks, or be overrun.”

“It grows that fast?”

“Everybody claims to know of a farm that was swallowed by the jungle, or found empty of all life in the morning. They say the vines twist and burrow as fast as a man can walk.”

“The jungle’s still a good distance from here, I see...”

“Oh, we’re safe here. This wayhouse has stood here since the road was built; I imagine it’ll be here forever,” laughed Feng. “We’d better get inside, though... sun’s setting.”

There was a huge snail shell standing next to the gate.

Jake knocked on it with his knuckles: it wasn’t the thin, fragile shell he was used to, more like knocking on a rooftile. And the damn thing stood as high as his belt...

Jake and Feng went inside to speak to the master, arranging rooms for the night and fodder for the animals. There was already another caravan there, heading toward Dothur, and while Jake was talking to the innkeeper, Feng pumped them for information on the road ahead.

“Only have two rooms open tonight,” drawled the innkeeper. “That caravan master just took the rest.”

“Two will be fine, and we’ll need the food for the horses.”

“Pasture out back, and the river’s always free,” said the innkeeper. “Pay in advance for the rooms.”

Jake dropped a few coins into the outstretched palm.

“Rest of your party can stay in the stable, or the yard. Don’t expect rain.”

“We’ll be wanting some food and drink for ourselves, too.”

“All the venison and pork you can eat, and ale to wash it down with.”

“Let me guess... payment in advance, right?”

“Or on the barrelhead,” the innkeeper nodded. “Extra if you break things.”

He checked out the two rooms.

Both were on the ground floor, which was better if there was a fire, but also easier for intruders to get into.

He decided to put the two women, with Nadeen and Serilarinna if possible, in one room, and a half dozen troopers in the other. The rest of them would sleep outside, and handle guard duty.

Nadeen and Serilarinna seemed to be getting along well after their fight.

He’d just leave that alone and see how it played out; didn’t expect any trouble from Nadeen, at least. Seri? He didn’t have a clue, but she seemed to have herself well under control.

The women from the carriage flatly refused to share their room, offering to stay in the carriage overnight if necessary.

Jake realized that he’d never even heard the woman in the burka speak; it was always the maid—or bodyguard?—with the two daggers.

No help for it. He’d just have to put guards around their room.

All the troopers had their own gear, of course, and roughing it right next to an inn with food and water was no trouble at all.

Nadeen and Serilarinna slept in the hall in front of the room, Feng and his six in the adjacent room, and the rest scattered about outside the inn, with watches set.

He’d get to sleep early but would also rise in the early hours, when things were at their quietest and unwelcome visitors most likely.

* * *

He woke at the changing of the guard at the Hour of the Ox, hours before dawn, and walked through and around the inn, but discovered nothing unusual. The stars were brilliant, and the moon about half-full, providing ample light for the grounds.

He walked with the watch, or sat with them when they rested, and got to know them a little better. They, in turn, discovered that he was as rough and ready as they were, and quick to laugh at a practical joke or jibe.

The eastern sky began to lighten in the Hour of the Hare, promising another hot and sticky day.

The farmers began their morning chores, feeding their oxen, collecting eggs from the henhouses, firing up the stove for the morning rice, and the noise of the community gradually rose around them.

Inside the inn, the kitchen was getting busy preparing to feed their guests—their own group and the larger caravan that had arrived before them.

An oxcart pulled up, piled high with hay, and a young boy, perhaps twelve or fifteen years of age, began unloading it into the yard in front of the stable.

Jake walked over and saw that their horses were already cared for, with water in the trough and fresh grain in their feedbags.

It had been a quiet, restful night, and an excellent start to the day.

It was also, according to Malchinkhüü, the last inn this side of Thace, which meant they’d be camping on the road from now on. No more maids and stableboys to take care of things!

They were ready to go an hour later, and set out on the road in the same formation as before.

As they continued away from Dothur, the jungle gradually grew closer and closer, until they reached The Gullet, as it was called: the narrowest portion, where the road ran between the waves of the Sea of Thul to their left and the vine-webbed darkness of the jungle trees to the right. The worn paving stones of the road were sometimes partially concealed under scattered drifts of beach sand that shifted with the ocean breeze, or under a desiccated root.

There were a few places where the beach had covered the road entirely in sand and stones, but the path was well marked by hoofprints and wheel ruts. Every kilometer or so one of those hulking columns stood, too, marking the path clearly. They were so worn it was impossible to tell just what they might have been statues of, but every so often he thought he could make out something—usually something unpleasant, although he could never identify exactly what it was that bothered him... something about the dimensions of the body, or the way it stood... and whatever they were, they often seemed to have tails.

Jake had yet to see a tree growing close enough to burrow under or through the road... as they rode on, he wondered if it was somehow protecting itself. Or was it the snails after all...?

He noticed Feng’s riders never rode between the road and the jungle, although they would often canter out onto the shore when the rocks were small enough for the horses to move freely.

Jake trotted up to join Feng near the carriage.

“Your troopers don’t seem to like the jungle much.”

“Nobody does.”

“Is it that dangerous?”

“Probably not, but we’ve all seen the trees dance.”

“Dance?”

“It’s not really dancing, but they sort of sway back and forth, and all the branches and vines whip back and forth. Some say they’ve seen roots writhe and trees walk, but I never have.”

“You don’t believe they actually move, then?”

Feng was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know... I’ve never seen one walk, and it sounds pretty unlikely, but I have seen a cow torn in half by something that came out of the jungle and vanished again. I don’t know if it was a tree or some beast, but anything that can tear a cow in half is worth keeping an eye out for in my book.”

“It didn’t eat the cow?”

“Nope, just tore it in half, pretty much, and left the pieces lying there. The birds had already gotten to it by then, of course, but it was still fresh enough that we could see what had happened.”

It was Jake’s turn to fall silent.

“If you ask Malchinkhüü, he’ll talk your ear off with stories of the jungle. Some might even be true!”

Jake laughed, but uneasily... his eyes kept straying toward the shadowed trees.

“Even so,” Feng continued, “I’ll be happier if we get out of The Gullet before we had our midday meal. There’s something about that darkness that makes me uneasy.”

“How much farther is it? The end of The Gullet?”

“We should be out in under an hour, I’d say. Normally we should be stopping around here for a rest, but the ocean breeze is cooling things down and I think even the horses want to clear this section as soon as possible. The road curves a bit inland there, and the shore is covered with grassy hills the horses will enjoy. A much better place to rest, I think.”

“I agree,” said Jake. “To be honest I’ve been watching the jungle get closer and closer as we rode, and something doesn’t feel right.”

“Nope, never does in The Gullet.”

“Why is it called The Gullet?”

“Don’t know, and never wanted to find out.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I get that... Well, another hour or so and then we’re out.”

“Yup.”

Jake twitched the reins and let his horse slack off a little, waiting for the rearguard to catch up.

Sergeant Long looked as alert as always, eyes darting here and there, but he also had a long stalk of wheat dangling from his mouth.

“Sergeant.”

“Cap’n.”

“Quiet again today... think we’ll be this lucky the whole way?”

“It’d be nice for a change, but I doubt Humaydah would spend that much money for a pleasure jaunt.”

“I feel the same way,” nodded Jake. “I know I’d regret it, but I almost want something to happen so it would be so damn boring!”

“Nobody hides in the jungle around here—not if they want to ever come out again—and there’s enough traffic on the road to make robbery difficult. I expect it’ll get more interesting once we reach the desert.”

“I don’t mind jungles,” mused Jake. “I trained in both desert and jungle, and spent most of my enlistment walking through jungles that look a lot like that one...”

“Did they eat people?”

“Well, no, they didn’t eat people,” admitted Jake. “People just killed each other.”

“Well, there you go. Not at all the same. No people in there.”

Jake had to agree.

The jungles of New Guinea and Indonesia were deadly, sure, but trees didn’t walk around and eat people. You could get bitten by something deadly, sure—hell, you could get bit or stung to death on his Dad’s old ranch back in Australia!—but the biggest danger had always been other people with guns.

Not many guns here.

He patted his fanny pack, reassured by the heavy hardness of the pistol inside.

“The road always marked in the sand?”

“It’s usually hidden, but the caravans leave trails, and the statues mark the way.”

“Where I come from the dunes can get pretty big, and move in the wind... statues don’t get buried?”

“Hard to say... you hear a lot of stories about new ones being exposed, marking roadways to unknown places.”

“Ever seen one?”

“A few years back we were trapped in a bad sandstorm, and after it passed the road was exposed over a pretty big area. The road we were on was clear because we could see the sun, but all of a sudden we could see that there were two other roads splitting off in different directions.”

“To where?”

“Never found out. Our guide said he didn’t know, and we never saw them again.”

“And nobody knows?”

“The guides are a pretty close-mouthed bunch, who knows? Like I said, though, lots of rumors and stories floating around. Especially farther up north, around Irem.”

“Irem... heard a lot of things about that city. Chóng’s physician, an old Arab named ibn Sina, said he came here—to Dreamlands, I mean—somehow after he entered Irem back in Wakeworld. Something happened, and he was gone from there and he’s been here in the Dreamlands since.”

“There are lot more stories about Irem than these roads, that’s for sure,” said Long. “I’ve no desire to go there, good money or not.”

Jake noticed that the head of the column had stopped, and he could see Ridhi Chabra, the woman on top with Danryce, riding back toward the carriage.

“Column’s stopped,” he said, and spurred his mount to meet her there.

Ridhi was waiting for him near the carriage. Most of the column was stopped now, and he could see Danryce still out in front, keeping an eye on things in that direction.

“The jungle curves back from here, and the open space around the road widens out. There’ll be low scrub and grasses for another few klicks before we enter the real desert.”

“This is a good place to rest, then.”

“Yessir.”

“Thank you, Trooper,” said Jake, then raised his voice. “Danny! Time for a break! Pick a spot for me!”

“Yo!” came the shout back, and he pointed up ahead and inland. “Right over there, Captain!”

Jake waved to Feng to accompany him, and they cantered up to see where Jake was pointing, and it was indeed a good spot... a large flat space with a small stream running along one side, mostly covered in grass, and well away from the jungle.

“Looks good, Danny. Thanks.”

“Wasn’t me, Jake. Trooper Ridhi suggested it.”

“How’s she working out?”

“Good.”

Jake lifted his arm and signaled the column to move up and take a break.

“How long do you think, Captain?” he asked Feng.

“The horses are a little tired after that last stretch, and maybe a little nervous, but they should be back in shape in an hour or so. Give us time to eat the midday meal, top up the water, and get ready for the desert.”

“How tight is our schedule this afternoon?”

“No inns out here; we’ll be camping on the sand.”

“How about staying here until dusk, and starting the desert then? If the road’s clear and we have enough light, ride through the night and stop when it gets hot.”

Feng smiled and nodded.

Jake realized he’d just passed a test.

The desert nights would be far cooler than the days, which would also save water, but at the same time darkness and shifting sand (not to mention snakes and scorpions and God knows what else...) made walking or riding dangerous. If the road stayed clear, and they had enough starlight and moonlight to see where they were going, it made sense to travel by night.

If they couldn’t see the road he knew they’d get lost in a heartbeat, though.

“Unsaddle the horses, and let them graze,” he called out. “We’ll rest here until dusk. Captain, would you assign guards?”

“Sir,” nodded Feng, and rode off to talk to Sergeant Long.

Jake dismounted and unstrapped his saddle gear and panniers, letting the horse relax and roam for the afternoon. It headed straight for the stream.

The rest of the column was unsaddling and inspecting horses, stretching, one man was already stretched out with his hat over his face... and he saw Bjørn and Renweard strap their weapons back on and take positions where they could see what might be coming. Tapped for guard duty.

While most of the column gathered around a central fire they quickly built, there were a few little groups forming, and he watched to see who ended up with whom.

The guide by himself, eating rice cakes on the grass next to his horse.

Serilarinna and Nadeen by themselves... no, now Ridhi was walking over. Three women, but not red-headed Larb, the woman wielding the scimitar in Feng’s six. Or Beghara, the axe woman.. where was she...?

Ah. Over there, sitting next to Danryce. The two of them seemed to be hitting it off right.

And Feng and Long sitting together on a slight rise, back to back so they could scan the entire horizon.

He walked deeper across the field, away from the shore, just enjoying the sea breeze and the smell of wildflowers and growing things.

There was a little depression up ahead, and for no particular reason he strolled that way and glanced down.

Snails. Dozens of snails, some as big as his head.

Rags, white sticks covered with snails... no, not sticks. Bones.

Fresh bones, not yet bleached by sun or wind-worn.

Horses. And people.

He turned to Feng and Long, who were already looking in his direction.

He waved them over.

“Looks like traders,” said Long, “judging from the clothing.”

“I don’t recognize anything in particular,” added Feng, “but I note that most of their weapons are gone, and there are a lot of broken arrows lying about.”

“Ambush, then.”

“Arrows to take out the troopers, then full-on attack, I’d say,” agreed Feng.

“And there are more people than horses... and no trade goods at all,” said Jake. “They just took the whole caravan and left the dead here.”

“See, they dragged them here... from over there somewhere,” said Long pointing. “But I can’t see any place where they might have hidden.”

“No trees, no hills, no nothing. They could have hidden right here, but we’re quite a distance from the road, and a standing horse would be obvious...”

“Maybe they disguised themselves as another caravan, and suddenly attacked?” wondered Jake.

“Could be,” nodded Feng. “It happens, and there isn’t any place to hide around here, that’s for sure.”

“How many archers do we have?”

Feng and Long exchanged glances; Long gestured to Feng.

“Everyone can shoot a bow, of course, but most of us are better with other weapons. Three are masters of the bow, though: Yeung, in my six, and Lau and Renweard in Long’s.”

“I can’t shoot worth a damn. Not with a bow, anyway...”

They looked at Jake curiously.

“You mean... one of those musket things?”

“Something like that, yeah. Called a rifle. If I still had mine I could reach and touch someone a klick away.”

“One kilometer!?”

“If I had a sniper rifle, I could double that.”

“But they take forever to load, and the smoke marks you!”

Jake laughed.

“A rifle and a musket are two different animals, Feng. I don’t have one to show you, but believe me, if I had the ammo I could take the whole column down in about thirty seconds. From a safe distance.”

“Well, I’m just as happy muskets are as noisy and slow as they are,” said Sergeant Long. “Gives us a fighting chance.”

“Anyway, I think we should move those three archers back close to the carriage, pull the rear guard up a bit closer, and push the scouts out a little farther. Comments?”

“We’d have to mix up the sixes,” mused Long. “Should be OK.”

“We’ve done it before,” agreed Feng. “If there’s a problem we’ll be fighting defense, and it won’t matter. Our sixes are balanced for independent action, if needed, but in this case we’ll all be together.”

“Your archers likely to get confused about who’s in command?”

“Nope,” promised Feng. “Won’t be the first time we’ve done it, and sure won’t be the last.”

“Good. So you agree?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Feng. “I’d suggest outriders to the sides, too, terrain permitting. I don’t think a single small carriage with a well-armed guard force has much to fear from desert bandits, but it can’t hurt.”

Long nodded. “It’ll reduce the force we’ve got around the carriage, but it should guarantee us a little more warning, and since everyone’s on horse they can pull in fast.”

“OK.” Jake made up his mind. “Captain Feng, Sergeant Long, tell your sixes what we’ve found, and what we think happened. When we move out tonight we’ll use the new formation.”

“Yessir,” they echoed.

“I’ll inform the lady of the change and why, although she’s never taken any interest in how we handle thing yet that I’ve seen.”

“Nor I,” agreed Feng. “Hasn’t taken an interest in anything at all, as far as I can tell!”

Jake turned to look back at the bodies.

“Should we build a pyre?”

“They belong to the snails now,” said Long quietly. “It’s how they do things here, rites of Nth-Horthath be damned.”

They walked back to the column and the word circulated quickly.

Nobody said much either way, but everyone quietly checked their weapons again. This was, after all, why they were hired, and they’d known it was coming, one way or another.

Chapter 4

The column set out again as the sun was getting low on the horizon, over the Sea of Thul. The towers of Despina should be out that direction, thought Jake, but it was too far to see them even without the sun in his eyes. Just the whitecaps pounding on the shore.

The troopers had been strung out lengthwise while they were still near the city, but now that they were entering the desert—and with extra caution, due to the gruesome discovery he’d just made—the column was shorter and thicker. The rearguard was closer, and there were outriders on both sides, as much as the terrain would permit.

Danryce and Ridhi Chabra were farther ahead, and distanced from each other.

As the grassland fell behind and the dunes began to rise, the column pulsed like a living thing, adapting to ever-changing road and dunes.

The road was still mostly exposed, and the surrounding dunes small enough that the chance of an ambush low. The statues marking the road were clearly visible, stretching off roughly northward, away from both ocean and jungle.

As the evening deepened visibility dropped, and the temperature began to cool. There was even a slight breeze, bone-dry and dusty.

A half-moon and stars provided enough light to keep track of each other, and the road itself was the best guide. Every so often someone would whistle or call out for a quiet response checking that they hadn’t strayed too far.

Jake realized they’d have to start navigating from statue to statue using torches if the nights got much darker... still, the moon was waxing, and unless it got unusually cloudy—this was the desert, after all—it should be OK.

If he had to, they’d put one torch on the carriage, and Danryce or someone would carry a second torch in their direction of travel until he found the next statue, then signal the carriage to move up. It meant showing torchlight on dark nights, but they could shield it most of the way around and still move fairly rapidly.

Malchinkhüü and Feng agreed that the trade road was pretty straight, curving very gradually when it curved at all. If there was a sharp bend in the road, added Malchinkhüü, it almost certainly led somewhere they did not want to investigate. He advised it would be better to wait until morning to find the right road.

It was getting downright cold... The horses blew out spumes of white mist in the darkness, and he could see his own breath. Jake figured it must be getting close to freezing. He’d expected it, of course, they’d all expected it, but it was still a shock to be this cold after the day so hot.

At least the wind stayed down... he didn’t look forward to wind chill and blowing sand in the darkness.

They rode on through the moonlit night, stopping at roadside statues to rest as needed, and as the eastern sky began to lighten ever so gradually, began looking for a good outcropping that could shield them for at least some of the day.

The area south of the Noor range was dotted with mesas and a few plateaus, surrounded by dunes and well-hidden gullies. The road usually traced its route across the broad, windswept highlands, dropping down to cross vast stretches of desert to the next. A gully, or even better a well-positioned cliff, would give them enough shade to make the day survivable.

A flashflood sweeping down a gully could be very unpleasant, and while the chances of rainfall were slim out here, nothing was very definite in the Dreamlands.

The gullies were also excellent places for the Ibizim—the lizard riders—to hide out.

He’d never seen one of their lizards, but from the description guessed they looked much like monitor lizards—or the sand goannas of his homeland, Australia. Even though they weren’t big enough to actually ride, in spite of the name “lizard riders,” they weighed as much as a man, and sported an impressive set of fangs and talons, they said. Deadly on the sand.

Feng said they’d be unlikely to try anything against this large a party with only a single light carriage to plunder. Jake hoped he was right.

“Captain?” It was Feng, pointing up ahead to Ridhi.

She stood in her stirrups on a low rise, signaling that she’d found a promising site.

Danny was a bit farther away, also halted and looking back toward the column.

Jake nudged his horse into a canter to join her, gesturing Feng to accompany him.

The cliff face twisted, creating a sand-floored, mostly walled enclosure. The entrance faced northwest, and the cliff walls were high enough to shield from most of the direct sunlight except at noon, which was all they could really hope for.

It was defensible, and they would stretch shades overhead to keep the noon sun at bay.

“Looks good to me, Captain,” he said, turning to Feng. “What do you think?”

“We’d be trapped in there if anyone attacked, but they’d have a hard time getting to us through that narrow entrance. And it should be cooler during the day. I’d say do it.”

Jake turned back toward the column, which had continued to move along the road toward them. He waved them over, pointing out the way.

The troopers set up camp and set the shimmer near the entrance.

It was a minor glamour that would make it harder to spot them from afar, but anyone getting within a hundred meters or so would be able to see through it immediately. Still, it helped them stay out of trouble, and even better—it was a little darker and cooler inside.

Unfortunately, it didn’t conceal sounds, only sights, so neighing horses or shouting troopers would defeat the whole purpose.

Jake called Feng over again.

“The road’s getting pretty hard to see in places. I’m a little worried about the carriage wheels... you think it’s about time to put on the sand rims?”

“The wider rims will make it harder for the wheels to sink into the sand, but they’ll slow us down on stone,” said Feng, thinking over the day’s performance. “What do the scouts think?”

“Let’s find out.”

Jake whistled, and called out “Danny! Ridhi! Over here!”

They walked over from where they’d been setting up camp, Danny squatting down next to them and Ridhi standing.

“You’ve been watching the road and the sand all night,” said Jake. “You think it’s time to put the sand rims on the wheels?”

The scouts looked at each other for a minute.

“No, I don’t think we need to yet,” said Danny. “The road’s mostly clear so far. We can always do it on the road pretty quickly if we have to.”

“Ridhi?”

“I think we should put them on now while it’s still cool, and we can take our time. It’s too risky to drive that carriage fast through these rocks anyway, so we might as well put the wheels on and accept the slower speed. We’ll make up any lost time crossing sand.”

“Captain Feng?”

“Ridhi’s been through here many times. Danryce hasn’t.”

“Right.” Jake stood up and stretched. “OK, we mount the rims.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Danny. “Be good to get a little exercise instead of just sitting all day!”

“Captain Jake, you’ve been checking that amulet from your belt all day,” asked Feng as the two guides left.

“Amulet?”

“In that pouch there,” he said, pointing.

“Oh, my Suunto!”

“Your what?”

“My Suunto compass,” he said, pulling it out. “I’ve been keeping track of our general direction.”

“Ah, a compass! It’s very small and light!”

“I’ve had it for decades; saved my ass a few times.”

Feng examined the compass carefully.

“This glass is very light, too. How do they make it?”

He handed it back to Jake, who carefully tucked it away in its padded pouch.

“That’s plastic, not glass. I don’t know how they make it. It’s from Wakeworld.”

One horse had a stone lodged in its hoof, but they were able to remove it without any difficulty. Other than that and some sunburns, they were off to a good start.

He checked the water supplies first of all, making sure that nothing was leaking, then the horses, and finally the carriage. Captain Feng took care of the guard schedule.

They all got a good day’s sleep, hot as it was.

The guards woke them as the sun started to drop toward the horizon, shadows lengthening and the first traces of a breeze beginning to stir the sand.

After a quick meal of rice and dried meat they were back on the road again, following it through winding canyons, once up a set of hairpin turns to the plateau top, and then straight as an arrow to the other side, always guided by those time-worn statues keeping watch.

After they descended the plateau, this time via a long, shallow slope, the outcrops of rock became fewer, and the dunes began to grow in size.

The road became harder to see, and at times they were forced to rely on the statues for direction.

[caption id="attachment_1751" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Desert near Thace
Photo by Azzedine Rouichi on Unsplash[/caption]

Danryce and Ridhi continued to scout the path, while Bjørn and Ng, the youngest trooper, rode to the sides.

Jake rode closer to the carriage, eyes darting here and there to check on everyone, and checking the route ahead of them for likely ambush sites. With mostly dunes surrounding them, almost everywhere was equally dangerous, albeit unlikely.

Suddenly Bjørn gave a shout of surprise, and Jake spun in his saddle to see Bjørn—and his horse—suddenly stop, and wheel away from the column.

“Feng! Take over!” he shouted, and kicked his horse into a gallop toward Bjørn’s last position.

Bjørn had dismounted, and was uncoiling a rope.

In front of him was a huge conical pit made of sand, with a boy—Jake guessed maybe twelve or thirteen—struggling to keep from sliding down. Arms and legs splayed out as wide as he could spread them, he was trying desperately to hold onto the sand, with little success.

Every so often a spray of sand and pebbles would erupt from the pit in the center, thrown up by something sinuous and black that flicked like a whip.

The bloodied body of an Ibizim lizard was ahead of the boy, sliding into the blackness at the center... no, it wasn’t sliding, it was being pulled!

A long, sticklike leg was pulling it, huge teeth like scythes lining it, hooked into the dead lizard’s flesh.

“It’s a sandroach!” shouted Bjørn as he threw the rope toward the boy. It landed a few meters away from the boy’s outstretched arm. “Grab the rope, boy!”

He pulled it back and tried again as the boy slipped down another meter.

The rope landed on the boy’s leg, and he quickly grabbed it.

Bjørn began pulling, and Jake dismounted, running over to help.

At the bottom of the pit the sand erupted, a reverse landslide of sand and rock bursting up the slope to engulf the boy and Bjørn both.

Jake turned away to shield his eyes from the sudden sandstorm, then back again.

The boy was motionless on the slope, still holding the rope, but Bjørn toppled from the rim, rolling deeper into the pit, rope useless in his hand.

Another black leg burst out of the sand, driving pincerlike into Bjorn’s stomach to drag him closer. The first leg abandoned the lizard to instead swing at the boy, catching him across the chest with those cruel barbs.

Bjørn’s horse screamed in fear and broke, galloping away into the gathering dusk.

“Bjørn!”

He snatched his gun from its pouch, trying to find something to shoot at, but there was just a thin, black leg holding the limp body of the boy, dragging it down to the bottom of the pit where the thing hid.

There was nothing he could do, and it was all over in seconds.

He heard voices behind him.

His hands wavered, the gun slipping down to point at the ground.

He stood up straight again, rising from his shooter’s crouch, and held the gun loosely in one hand.

Sergeant Long was there, with Nadeen.

Renweard came running up behind them, bow in hand, and stopped on the rim to take in the scene.

He saw Bjørn’s broken body in the pit, slowly slipping into the sand.

The boy, probably dead, being dragged down to join Bjørn.

The rope, lying useless on the sandy slope.

“Renweard, no!”

Sergeant Long shouted, and Jake turned to see Renweard lay his bow down next to his quiver, taking sword and dagger in his hands.

“I must, Sergeant,” he said quietly. “I have no reason to live with Bjørn gone. And that sandroach will die with him.”

Long tried to grasp his arm to hold him.

“We can kill it with fire, lad!”

“If I fail,” said Renweard, and leapt into the pit.

He ran down the slope, sword and dagger out, making no effort to catch himself but instead using his speed to launch himself like a spear at the hidden sandroach.

With a metallic screech the thing’s head reared up out of the sand, mandibles clacking and multi-faceted eyes glinting in pain, Renweard’s sword buried deep into its neck.

Jake fired two shots from his Glock into the thing’s head, the 9-mm round punching a clean hole through the chitin between its eyes and blowing the back of its head off.

As the echoes died, so did Renweard, a mandible punched through his chest.

Jake gradually noticed his ragged breathing, realized he was standing with gun still outstretched, both hands trembling with adrenalin.

He slipped the gun back into its pouch, and knelt to pick up his brass. Eventually he needed to figure out a way to reload the things. Horse piss!

The rest of the group had gathered now, looking down into the pit, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Behind them, on a rocky outcrop, three unknown figures stood silhouetted against the dark red sunset. After a moment, they slipped away into the darkness.

The pit as already beginning to fill, sand and pebbles sliding down the incline to bury the four corpses.

Jake silently mounted his horse once again, and the rest of the party slowly followed suit.

They were back on the road shortly, this time with Nnamdi of Zar riding the right flank.

It was quiet ride, in both ways.

When dawn finally came they made camp once more, and around the fire Feng’s troopers each spoke of Renweard and Bjørn, telling tales of their feats, their love, and their deaths.

Chapter 5

The next night was quiet, and the caravan was more careful than ever to stick to the road—when they could see it. The moon was bright, but the dunes often hid the road entirely for long stretches.

Feng drew his horse up closer.

“Thank you for avenging Renweard.”

Jake grunted.

“That was no musket.”

“No, it’s called a pistol, or handgun. The same thing as a musket, only a lot smaller.”

“You didn’t load it, or light the fuze.”

“No. It is already loaded.”

“And is it still?”

“Yes, but I only have a couple dozen bullets left.”

“Bullets?”

“Shots.”

“May I see it?”

“No.”

They rode I silence for a while longer.

“I see why the Factor put you in charge now,” said Feng finally. “I would have stayed to honor their bodies.”

Jake glanced at Feng. Was he condemning him for not giving them a proper send-off? Burial or funeral pyre or whatever. Or was he just speaking his truth?

“The desert will honor them as well as the snails,” he said. “I hate the idea of leaving anyone behind, alive or dead, but even if we had managed to dig them out again, we could have done nothing but give them back to the desert.”

Feng nodded, sighed.

“I agree. Now. Some of the troopers don’t, yet.”

“Will that be a problem?”

“No, they’ve all bitten the branch. They’ll settle down.”

“Bitten the branch?”

It was Jake’s turn to ask for more explanation.

“Bite the branch. When we need to be sewed up, we ‘bite the branch’ to stand the pain. Like your first kill, it’s a mark of passage.”

“Never bitten a branch,” mused Jake.

“But surely you’ve been wounded?”

Jake pulled up his tunic, exposing his back and the round, puckered scar on it.

“A bullet hole,” he explained. “Through my lung and damn near killed me. But I was unconscious when they sewed me up.”

“Same thing, branch or no branch. It’s the scar that counts, but can’t say I’ve ever seen a round one before.”

Jake grunted again.

“You saw what my two shots did to that thing’s head, right? I was damn lucky I survived this one. Wouldn’t have if the extraction bird hadn’t been right there.”

“You flew on birds?”

Jake laughed.

“No, no, that’s just what we called our heli... uh, flying boats.”

“I wish we had a flying boat instead of slogging through the desert every day...”

Jake laughed.

“I wish I had a lot of things right now!”

The caravan rode on through the darkness, the sky slowly lightening to the east.

After they stopped in the morning and began setting up camp for the day, Feng pulled Jake aside.

“Malchinkhüü is looking at the sky quite often... something’s up.”

“I noticed it, too, but not a cloud in it.”

They walked over the guide, who had not yet set up his own canopy.

“What’s wrong, Master Malchinkhüü?”

“Sandstorm’s coming,” he said. “I think from the west, but I can’t tell yet.”

“Sandstorm? But no wind, no clouds!”

“It’s coming. I can feel it.”

Feng looked around, searching.

“If he’s right, we need better shelter. There’s nothing here but more dunes.”

“Get the word out to everyone, Captain Feng. We might be in for an interesting nap today.”

They split up, warning the caravan of what was coming.

The took the roof and wheels off the carriage, making it as low as possible, and did what they could to prepare their horses and themselves.

Malchinkhüü didn’t put his canopy up.

In about an hour the sky to the northwest—the direction of the enormous Eastern Desert, of which this was but a small part—turned black, and the wind began to blow, small gusts at first but rising steadily until it was difficult to stand.

The wind-driven sand blasted in their faces and hands, whipping words out of their mouths with fierce fingers, and forcing them to wrap cloths over their faces to breathe. They hung on, scrunching low and waiting for it to pass.

Jake turned.

Had he heard something over the howling of the wind...?

A shadow moved, a dark figure running, barely visible through the whirling grains.

“To arms!” came Feng’s shout, and chaos erupted.

“Nadeen! To the Lady!”

She was already running toward the carriage, and Jake followed, dodging the sudden swing of a sword from out of the sandstorm, and thrusting to hit something solid. He pulled his sword back.

A figure dressed in sand-colored tunic and trousers came with it, toppling onto the sand at his feet.

Assassins?

“Jake!”

It was Nadeen’s shout.

He left the body behind and ran toward her voice.

She was holding off another of the assassins, barely holding her own with her swordwork. Behind her the Lady’s guard was down, lying atop one body and half under a second. The Lady herself stood near her body, neatly dodging under a swing to lodge a dagger deep into her opponent’s belly, slicing him open from crotch to ribs.

She was wounded, her left arm hanging useless, clothing drenched in blood from some wound to her abdomen; he couldn’t see.

He ran to her.

She spun around, almost striking him before she noticed who it was.

“My Lady! Are you all right?”

“Take this! You must get it to Lord Ganzorig at all cost!”

“Your wounds! We must get you to safety!”

The Lady yanked off her veil.

“You idiot! Take the damn box and get it to Ganzorig!”

It was the Factor! Factor Humaydah!

She had out a small wooden box.

He took it.

“Master Jake. Get it to Ganzorig. Go!”

She slipped to on knee, almost toppling over.

Jake reached out to steady her.

“Factor! Let me bind your...”

“You can’t escape carrying me, Jake. Just go. I order you.”

He let go.

“Jake!”

Nadeen called out; he turned.

More figures were coming toward them through the sand curtain, figures dressed in sand-color tunics and pants. Three... four... he backed up against Nadeen as they spread out, surrounding them. Six...

He reached for his Glock.

It was the only way.

One of the assassins suddenly moved.

Not to the attack.

He collapsed, folding up neatly like a suit slipping off a hanger.

Within seconds, all six of them were down, silently, dead.

A single man stepped toward Jake, hands empty. An Ibizim.

“There is no time. Come.”

Jake and Nadeen exchanged glances.

She shrugged. They had little choice.

Jake straightened, closed his pistol pouch again, and lowered his sword.

The Ibizim, cheeks daubed with some ochre paint, pointed, and they turned to see three more Ibizim standing, barely visible through the whirling sand.

They ran.

Jake felt a hand touch his shoulder, guiding him through the storm. He could hear Nadeen’s feet next to him.

A few minutes later his guide pushed him into a tent, still air, the whirring of the sand changed to a constant pounding and pattering on the thick walls of the tent as it shook and twisted in the gusts.

Nadeen toppled in after him, he steadied her from falling.

“Captain Jake!”

It was Beghara.

Her enormous axe was at her side, bloody, but she seemed unhurt.

“The Ibizim led me here, and now you. And Nadeen.”

“Only the three of us?”

“So far. Maybe the rest still to come?”

“No, no more,” came a quiet voice from the other end of the tent.

An older woman sat there, something like a rosary in her hands. In front of her a warrior sat cross-legged, sword flat on his knees.

She beckoned them closer.

“Captain Jake. Your man tried to save our little Batu, and died trying, as did his friend. And you killed the sandroach, avenging their deaths,” she said. “We have repaid that debt.”

“Who were those men?”

“Some men, some women. All desert fighters sent by Thuba Mleen to take what you hold.”

“Thuba Mleen? What I hold?”

“Sit. Drink.”

They sat on the carpeted floor, cross-legged.

“I am Altansetseg, Matriarch of the Ibizim of the Copper Beetle.”

The man leaned forward with a tiny cup of clear liquid.

Unsure of how to respond but aware that this was important somehow, Jake carefully accepted the cup with both hand, bowing his head in thanks to the matriarch, and chugged it down in a single gulp, still holding it in both hands.

It was pure, fresh, cool water.

He bowed his head again as he reached forward to hand it back to the man.

The man nodded in appreciation.

I guess I guessed right, thought Jake. Looks like nobody wants to kill me yet.

Nadeen and Beghara followed suit.

“We were only able to save you three,” Altansetseg continued, “but not all of you were killed. Thuba Mleen’s fighters left as soon as they discovered the Factor’s body, and that you were gone. They are still hunting you, however, and what you carry.”

“You knew Factor Humaydah?”

“Yes. We, with others, planned this many moons ago.”

“What is in the box? What’s so important she was willing to die to deliver it?”

“The Emperor of the Sands, Thuba Mleen, does not take kindly to rebellion. The best desert dwellers can hope for from him is to be ignored; the worst, enslavement. In the desert, death is always simple, and many find it preferable to working in his mines.

“We Ibizim have an agreement with him that lets us go our way, but if our way interferes with his desires things would go hard for us. We were able to save you only because we struck quickly, and left without leaving witnesses.

“We can provide you with supplies, to an extent, and escort you unseen a bit farther on your journey, but we cannot protect you beyond our borders.”

“What’s in the box?”

“Something to help Ganzorig, First Lord of Eudoxia, free his city from Thuba Mleen’s rule. The first of many cities to declare their freedom and survive, we hope.”

“This was all the Factor’s idea?”

Altansetseg’s wrinkles crinkled.

“Hardly. Many camels have their tongues in this waterhole.”

“And the Ibizim would like to see Thuba Mleen’s power reduced as well...”

“No doubt,” the matriarch agreed. “No doubt.”

“What of the rest of my troopers?”

“We cannot help them, I’m sorry.”

“But we are safe here?”

“Yes. Thuba Mleen’s fighters are also of the desert, of course, but we are Ibizim, and this is our homeland. They could not find us here with a thousand troopers.”

“What can you tell me of my people? Of the battle?”

“Little, I’m afraid... we could not afford to be seen, or leave one who had seen us alive. The giant Pargite was alive, though, standing over four of Thuba Mleen’s assassins while fighting a fifth. Malchinkhüü is dead. And there were other bodies that were not Thuba Mleen’s.”

“And Feng? Captain Feng?” asked Beghara.

The matriarch shrugged.

“We will look later, after the storm is gone, and see what we can see.”

She stood.

“I will have food and water brought,” she said. “Eat, rest, and be at peace. You leave at nightfall.”

She turned and left through a tent-flap, followed by the silent man. He returned in a few minutes with trays of curried rice and goat meat, juicy cactus chunks, and water.

The shriek of the windstorm was slowly dying, the tent not jumping around as much. They ate, wondering which of our friends—if any—might have survived.

Jake pulled out the Lady’s box and slid the cover open.

Inside was folded cloth, something soft like wool. He carefully unfolded it, and revealed an eye.

At least, it looked like an eye. A lizard’s eye, maybe, with three lobes, yellow in color, and embedded in what looked like amber.

Jake figured it was magical, an amulet of some kind.

He wrapped it up again and put it back in his belt pouch.

Later, after the winds had fallen silent and the afternoon slowly slipped into dusk, the matriarch returned, this time accompanied by three warriors, two men and a woman.

“It is time to go,” she said, skipping the pleasantries. “If Thuba Mleen discovers we have helped you it would not go well for us. Yargui will help you reach Thace in safety.”

The woman nodded when she spoke her name, eyes black above her red-painted cheekbones. She was armed with a long, wickedly barbed spear and a long, thin sword of some kind. The other two were similarly armed, and all three wore sand-colored robes and kaffiyeh.

“Can we return to our camp for water and supplies?” asked Nadeen. “We have nothing.”

“It is too dangerous,” replied Altansetseg. “We cannot be seen with you, and you would be killed by Thuba Mleen’s troopers, who still search for you. We will provide.”

She turned and left the tent, calling back over her shoulder “Come.”

The other woman followed her, halting outside to hold the tent flap open.

It was getting quite dark now, and the stars will beginning to shine dimly. The moon had just topped the ridge in the distance, but the desert shadows were already impenetrable black.

“We run,” said Yargui. “Follow me, and remain silent.”

Without waiting for a response she set off at a jog, and the three of them followed—they really had no other options.

The other two spread out to their flanks, and the matriarch watched the six of them vanish into the desert night.

They kept running for about an hour: a measured pace they could have kept up for longer, if needed, but suddenly Yargui halted next to a rock face.

She waited for them to join him, then squatted down and slipped under an overhang, out of sight underneath.

A hidden entrance!

Jake followed suit, grunting as he dropped down to see the entranceway. Well-hidden by the overhang and adjacent rocks, it was invisible to anyone who didn’t know where to look... and in the middle of a trackless desert, surely only the people of the Copper Beetle would know where to look!

The entrance was quite small—he had to sit and slide forward—but once inside the tunnel sloped downward and larger. Only a few meters in and he could stand comfortably.

Nadeen, Beghara, and the other two Ibizim soon joined him.

Yargui took one of the torches off the wall and lit it with her flint and steel, using it to light two more, which she handed to the troopers.

“We can talk now, if you must,” she said. “We will walk in Xinaián for about another hour to reach Home.”

“Xinaián? Home?”

“This underground world is called Xinaián, and Home is our city. Many roads lead to Home, through the desert or through Xinaián, and it is safest to take these secret routes to avoid the searching eyes of Thuba Mleen. A bit farther there is water, come.”

Holding her torch up, he began walking deeper into the tunnel.

While the desert nights were always cold, in the caravan we had heavier robes, and the warmth of the horses... here, we had only the clothes we had been wearing when Thuba Mleen attacked us.

Fortunately, Yargui set a fairly brisk pace, and we were soon quite warm enough.

As they walked, Jake studied the tunnel. It gradually but steadily sloped downward, and while it had apparently been carved from the stone, it was clear the architects had taken advantage of existing caverns. In one place a stone bridge arched across a chasm. As he crossed he glanced down to see a river moving sluggishly below, glinting in the torchlight.

As they walked deeper into the earth, the tunnel began to glow with a faint, bluish light, emitted by what looked like lichen over the bare rock. It gradually increased in brightness, and eventually their eyes acclimated to the point they no longer needed the torches.

The three guides extinguished their torches, but kept them at hand.

There were a number of branches, other tunnels leading off into dimness, and at most of those intersections a statue stood. It looked like the same statues that marked the roads through the desert, he thought, but these were weathered only by time and fungus, and leaving enough detail visible to reveal that they were lizardfolk.

Walking on two legs, often with sword or spear, they always faced away from their direction of travel, as if protecting the road against invaders. With strangely flattened head and reptilian eyes, pendulous writhing lips that bared curved pointed fangs, and a hideously misshapen, dwarfish body, they set his heart racing and raised the hair on the back of his neck every time he saw one.

“The Children of the Night...” whispered Beghara, shifting her axe to be sure she could use it quickly. “These are their tunnels, and their road.”

“We do not speak that name here,” said the man bringing up the rear. “Some say they are still here and listen.”

“Are these things real?” he asked Nadeen, shifting to the far side of the tunnel to pass.

“Legend says so,” she answered, “but I’ve never heard of anyone actually meeting one...”

“They do not come this close to the sun anymore,” said Yargui, “but I would not like to venture below to Yoth.”

The tunnel walls fell back, the tunnel broadening, the ceiling rising, and the echoes of our footsteps changed... Illuminated by blue radiance, the scene in front of him was like nothing he had ever seen before.

They faced a forest of stalagmites, some rising up into invisibility above, all covered with moss, or fungus... and between them, a lake stretching off into the distance, tiny waves lapping the shore.

“It is safe to drink,” said Yargui, cupping a palmful for herself. “We will give you waterskins when we reach Home.”

Jake dipped a finger in... it was cold, and felt wonderful. He plunged both hands in, washing off the dust and sand, splashing it on his face and shoulders, and drinking down handful after handful.

“Stay alert for snakes,” warned the Ibizim. “There are far larger dangers here, too, but they rarely come here to the shallows. Snakes, though, may be anywhere.”

Jake lifted his head from water, darting his eyes here and there, dagger in hand.

Seeing nothing, he relaxed again, but his eyes continued scanning for ripples in the water.

Their three guides contented themselves with a quick sip, but Jake, Nadeen, and Beghara took advantage of the chance to rinse themselves off, and felt refreshed.

“Now I’m hungry, too!” grumbled Beghara. “No breakfast today. Never did like fighting on an empty stomach.”

“Let us continue,” said Yargui, standing and brushing bit of moss off her clothing. “Come.”

Suddenly a deafening hoot sounded, trailing off into a plaintive whistle, echoing through the chamber in a clash of sound.

“What...?”

“One of the larger dangers I mentioned,” said the woman. “There are too many stone columns here, we’re safe. But it would be good to leave before it notices us.”

They left.

The road, now a broad, perfectly flat structure of black basalt, curved around the lake in a perfect arc, clearly built before the stalagmites grew. In a few paces, stalagmites almost a meter high rose from the surface of the road itself, suggesting how incredibly old it was.

Jake had no idea how long it took them to grow, but since they formed from drips of mineral-carrying water from above, it must be tens of thousands of years. If not more.

The road split, one part continuing around the lake, and a second branching off into the rock away from it.

Yargui took the branch, leading them into a smaller tunnel that gradually inclined upwards.

They were heading back to the surface.

Sure enough, as the blue radiance from the tunnel began to fade, there were more torches.

Yargui lit three, taking one for herself and handing the others to the other two Ibizim.

They walked for a while in their bubbles of brightness amid the pitch blackness until suddenly Yaergui extinguished her torch, placing it to the side of the tunnel. The other two quickly followed suit, and as their eyes adjusted they noticed a faint, yellowish light up ahead.

Yargui motioned them to stop, and walked ahead by herself to stand in the center of the tunnel.

Another Ibizim, sword bare, stepped out of the shadows to talk briefly to her, then nodded and gestured with his hand.

Hearing a rustling behind him, Jake spun around to see half a dozen guards standing in a rough semi-circle around them.

Instinctively he reached for his sword, seeing Nadeen and Beghara reach for their weapons out of the corner of his eye.

“They are just the guard, Master Jake,” said Yargui. “You are free to pass now; this way.”

Keeping one eye on the guards, Jake and the two women followed Yargui up the tunnel, which turned sharply to the right up ahead. As he turned the corner, he stopped in astonishment. Nadeen bumped into him, then stopped in shock herself.

The top of Beghara’s axe hit the stone floor with a clang as she rested it there, the three of them looking at the adobe city that stretched out before them.

Eyes watering from the sudden brilliance of the sunshine, they stared.

They were looking out of a hole halfway up a cliff face that must have been five or six hundred meters high, Jake estimated. A valley stretched out at their feet, with a river winding through it, surrounded by green fields and houses, and beyond the river the ground sloped up, gradually at first and then more steeply until it, too, became a cliff... covered with haphazard buildings of every color of the rainbow.

“Welcome to the Home of the Copper Beetle,” she said.

Chapter 6

It reminded him of the photographs he’d seen of adobe cliff dwellings in the United States, and while these also looked to be made largely of adobe, he could see wood and stone as well. But the colors! Each building seemed to be painted a different color from its neighbors, some bright, some dull, some almost fluorescent. Seen from here, the cliff looked almost like a living thing, pulsing and dynamic with the rainbow of colors, shifting as people and carts moved about.

It was hard to see clearly from here, but it looked like the people were also dressed in brilliant colors. Robes, perhaps? Trousers and tunics? He couldn’t tell from this distance.

“Over here,” called Yargui, pointing to a bamboo cage hanging suspended from a rope. She stepped inside, and beckoned the others to join her.

The floor was made of loosely interwoven bamboo poles, and there was only a simple rail around the edge. If you weren’t careful your foot could easily slip between the bamboo poles of the floor, or you might even topple off the platform completely.

When everyone was aboard, Yargui nodded to the three men standing at the crank, and they began to turn it with a loud, wooden clacking.

The elevator descended to the ground as a counterweight rose in time.

It crunched to a stop on the scree, and they had arrived.

They were standing on a wooden stage at the base of the cliff, flanked by farmland on both sides.

An Ibizim woman, dressed in a rose-red shift with leather belt and matching headband, leaned on her hoe as she watched them, resting from tending the onions.

The fields stretched from here—the cliff’s edge—down to the river, a hodgepodge of different crops and animals, fields packed together tightly in no apparent pattern, dotted with farmers hard at work.

As they walked down the slope toward the river, Ibizim going about their daily lives stopped to briefly assess them, sometimes calling a greeting to Yargui or one of the others, then returning to their own work.

Horses, camels, and even a few of the big deinos could be seen. The sand lizards were everywhere, some tethered, some just roaming about.

“Try not to startle one,” warned Yargui. “Most are trained, but not all. And some spit poison.”

“How can you tell which ones spit poison?” asked Jake.

“You can’t. We’ll try to warn you if one gets too close,” said Yargui. “It’s late afternoon. We will walk upstream—east—and rest closer to the road you must take.”

“Damn... totally lost track of time down there,” mumbled Jake, glancing up at the sun. “Have we been walking that long?”

“Exactly where are we?” asked Nadeen.

“This is Home,” answered Yargui. “No enemy has ever discovered it, and none ever will.”

“The tunnels,” mused Jake. “But what about by air?”

“It cannot be seen from above,” said Yargui briefly, without going into details.

Jake figured it must be a glamour of some sort, and since they obviously didn’t want to talk about their defenses, let it drop.

“But you’ve let us in...”

“Are you enemies of the Ibizim?” countered Yargui. “The Matriarch says otherwise...”

“We work for—worked for—Factor Humaydah. She has entrusted us to deliver something to Ganzorig, First Lord of Eudoxia. And apparently Matriarch Altansetseg wants us to complete the mission.”

“So, not enemies, then. And perhaps allies,” grinned Yargui. “No ally has ever been here uninvited, either, Master Jake. We Ibizim rule this desert and the mountains of Noor, and have for six grand dozens of years or more.”

“But Thuba Mleen rules you,” said Jake doing the sums in his head. He worked it out to 864 years.

“No, he claims to, and he collects taxes in return for not killing us when we venture into the world. But the times are changing.”

“So the Factor said,...” agreed Jake. “For better or worse, things always change.”

They crossed a small bridge and continued to the opposite cliff, where Yargui led them to a small tea house overlooking the valley. The proprietor came bustling out with a teapot and six tiny cups. Yargui poured the reddish tea, handing each of them a cup in turn.

It was chilled and spicy—Jake tried to figure out what spices might be in it... cinnamon, maybe, and... tarragon? He gave up. It was good, and it was cold.

“Fura’kk and po for all!” requested Yargui, and the cook began banging pots around inside.

She poured another round of tea for everyone.

“After we eat and rest a bit,” she continued, “we will walk the roads of Xinaián again.”

“To where?”

“To the last branch, and from there you can just follow the road to the exit.”

“And once we reach the surface?”

“Travel due east and you will reach Thace shortly.”

Jake mulled that over.

“Any word on Captain Feng or the rest of our party?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid... but perhaps later.”

The fura’kk turned out to be roasted strips of chicken and beans and red peppers, stir-fried in some sweetish sauce, and po was steamed buns full of minced meat. Mutton, Jake thought, but it was hard to be sure.

Whatever it was, it was fresh-cooked and delicious. Famished, they finished off several platters.

“The Matriarch has given orders to provide you with whatever you need,” said Yargui. “Water, food, and sleep are yours, but do you need anything else?”

Jake looked at the other two raising his eyebrow.

“Other than more water and food, what else do we need?” he asked.

“Thuba Mleen’s skull!” spit Nadeen. “That’s all I want.”

Beghara chuckled.

“I left my dagger in someone’s chest earlier—got stuck in his ribs, I think—and could use a replacement if you’ve got one. My axe is great when I can swing it properly, but once in a while I really need a good dagger.”

“I can’t get you Thuba’s skull,” grinned Yargui, “but I can certainly get you a dagger or three. After we eat, though.”

Beghara nodded and turned her attention back to the fura’kk, chopsticks flying.

After food and more tea, they walked through the twisting cliffside labyrinth of Home to a small smithery, where Beghara quickly selected a new dagger. They took advantage of the opportunity to hone their weapons, and then Yargui led them up the river again.

The entrance into the underworld was at the base of the cliff this time, marked by a stone gateway. The pillars were the same lizardfolk statues they’d seen throughout their trip, but these were still well-preserved, although somewhat eroded by time and weather.

Jake decided that he really didn’t want to meet a lizardfolk... while they seemed to only come up to his shoulders, they looked to be very muscular. In addition to the usual assortment of swords and such, they also had a protruding jaw fitted with remarkable fangs, talons, and a thick tail that looked like it’d be handy for balancing.

Inside the tunnel, Yargui lit torches, and they all waited for a minute for their eyes to adjust. As before, the three Ibizim carried the lit torches, but Yargui handed Jake, Nadeen, and Beghara two each.

“Keep them for later. Just leave them inside the tunnel entrance when you’re done.”

They walked. The tunnel was mostly level, inclined very slightly down. After a short distance they extinguished the torches and replied on the blue luminance of the walls.

They passed several intersections, and twice came upon groups of guards who let them pass at Yargui’s word.

They walked for several hours, continuing to slope gradually downwards, until Yargui finally stopped where the path split into three.

“We need go no farther,” she said, pointing to the left-hand branch. “Follow this road to the end, and from there continue due east to reach Thace in less than a day.”

“No other branches up ahead?”

“None. The road curves around a lake, but it is clear.”

“Thank you, Yargui,” said Jake, holding out his hand.

Yargui looked at it but made no effort to shake.

To hide his embarrassment he turned to Nadeen and Beghara.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go,” said Nadeen, checking to be sure she still had her torches.

Beghara nodded.

Jake nodded to Yargui and the two silent fighters, and they started off down the tunnel.

The blue light was still strong enough that they could see without the torches, and the tunnel itself was clear and amply wide.

After about a few hours the tunnel began getting wider, and the ceiling higher... they were approaching the lake. The blue radiance grew stronger, and the air was rich with the smells of water, earth, and growing things.

The chamber seemed to be much smaller than the one they had seen earlier—they could see most of the ceiling, although the far reaches were difficult to make out clearly though the mist. Everything was covered in moss, with huge clumps of mushrooms sprouting in profusion.

There were even a few tiny flowers growing amid the moss, here and there, and Beghara stopped to look closer.

“This tiny flower! Look!” she called. “It has an even tinier frog inside!”

She reached out to pluck it, and something long and thin and scarlet and impossibly fast darted at her hand, and away.

“Damn! Snake!”

She yanked her hand back, holding it to her mouth and sucking the blood out.

Nadeen ran over and looked at it: two deep punctures in the soft flesh of her hand, between thumb and index finger.

She grabbed her dagger and sliced the wound open, spilling a few greenish drops onto the ground, and splashed water onto it, then put her own mouth to it to try to suck out the remaining poison.

Beghara swayed, then suddenly sat down with a thump, legs sprawled.

She screamed, and her eyes rolled up into her head.

She collapsed.

Jake placed his hand on her neck, feeling for her pulse. It was still there, but not as strong as it should be for Beghara.

“The blood is flowing clean now,” said Nadeen, spitting again, “but I fear there’s too much left.”

“Damn. Stay here, or carry her to Thace?”

“Yargui said less than a day to Thace. I’d say wait until dusk and then try for it... she’s going to die soon without help.”

“Agreed.”

Jake stood.

“Let’s get away from this damn lake, and then I’ll scout on up ahead and see how far the exit is. Yargui said there aren’t any enemies down here.”

“Except for snakes.”

“Yeah, except for snakes...”

With Nadeen’s help, Jake lifted Beghara up on his back, and they moved farther down the road until they were a good distance from the lake, on clean, dry stone paving again.

He set her down, checked her pulse once more, and started jogging.

Only another ten minutes down the road and the blue radiance was gone, replaced by the usual pitch black of the upper tunnels.

He took out his tinderbox and lit his torch with flint and steel, then continued in its light until he reached the exit.

He glanced outside... the sun was low above the horizon. The eastern horizon. Sunrise. The desert sand stretched forever around their little outcropping.

He couldn’t carry Beghara in that heat... they’d have to wait for nightfall to have any chance at all.

He trotted back.

“Any change?”

Nadeen shook her head.

“Breathing and pulse are both faint, but no worse than before,” she said. “Did you reach the exit?”

“Yeah, maybe about thirty minutes at a jog. Sun’s coming up. We’ll have to wait until it cools off, or we’ll all die on the way.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn.”

He knelt down to check Beghara’s pulse.

Not very good, but still there.

Maybe she had a chance, if they could get her to Thace.

“Help me get her up,” he said, “I’ll carry her on my back to the exit.”

Nadeen helped lift Beghara’s unconscious body up onto Jake’s back, and he held her arms tight across his chest as he stood, feet planted solidly.

“Damn, she’s built like a fucking tank.”

He wobbled for a moment, catching his balance, and shifted her weight.

“This is gonna be a bitch and a half,” he said, taking the first step.

Nadeen brought Beghara’s axe and bag, walking near Jake and lighting the way with the torch. Every so often she reached out to steady him as he took one plodding step after another, down the long tunnel toward the exit.

It had only taken him a about fifteen minutes to jog there by himself, but it took more than two hours that to finally reach the exit with Beghara on his back. Nadeen couldn’t carry her weight for more than a few dozen meters, and he needed frequent rests himself.

Nadeen helped get her down to the tunnel floor, taking care not to bang her head, and Jake collapsed, panting.

“No change,” said Nadeen, checking Beghara’s pulse and listening to her breathing.

The sun was already up, and they could feel waves of heat radiating into their darkness from the desert sand outside.

Jake pulled out the hard case and slipped on his sunglasses, relieved to see the harsh sunlight of the dunes reduced to a cooler shade. He carefully put the hard case back into the leather pouch on his belt. He didn’t wear his shades much these days because they attracted so much attention—they were probably the only ones in the Dreamlands, and highly reflective, too—but they sure helped as he peered outside the cave.

“Bug-eyed Jake! Can’t handle the sunshine, lover boy?”

“Got nothing against sunshine, Nadeen,” he grumbled. “This is way beyond sunshine, though. Your eyeballs made outta stone?”

“Practice,” she replied. “And a good kaffiyeh.”

“We had deserts in Australia, too,” he continued. “Spent a lot of time training in them and hating most every minute of it, but they never got this hot. Christ, you could boil fucking water in your hand out there!”

“It’s not that bad today; still early yet;” she countered. “Might be best to wait until dusk, but if you’d like to keep going and discover what ‘hot’ really means I’ll be happy to accompany you.”

“Ah, no, but thanks. A little nap would be wonderful.”

The two of them sipped a little water, and Nadeen dripped a little between Beghara’s lips: she was still unconscious and sweating heavily despite of the coolness of the cave.

Jake was exhausted.

He spread his mat and sat down, unlacing his leather boots and pulling them off with a grunt.

He didn’t miss wearing pants, but he really missed good boots. The boots he’d brought with him from Australia had finally given up the ghost last year, and there weren’t many shopping centers around he knew of. He’d come to appreciate the robes everyone wore here in the Eastern Desert, but their boots—or even worse, sandals—sucked.

He’d gone through desert training in Australia, of course, when he was in the SASR out of Campbell, but he’d spent most of his time in Borneo, Timor, and other jungles north of Australia rather than the deserts of the Middle East. In the jungle you needed good boots for several reasons, and he’d come to appreciate them over the years. The Special Air Service Regiment was the cream of the crop when it came to Aussie special forces, and they didn’t skimp on gear.

He recalled the ’scopes they’d had back then: lightweight binocs, and nightscopes. Once again he wished he’d thought to grab one of those when he left. All he had now was his shades, his Glock and a couple mags, and the Suunto.

Thank God for that Suunto compass. It sure saved their asses this time... Until now, at least. Now they could really use a little luck, and some salt tabs, and the compass didn’t offer either.

As Jake lay down, he placed the small box containing the amulet under his head, wrapped in some cloth to serve as a pillow. He wanted to keep it very close after all they’d been through.

Chapter 7

Something had made a noise.

Without moving, he listened, trying to recall exactly why he’d suddenly woken up.

Nadeen...?

He opened his eyes, and started to sit up.

“OK, you just relax,” came a man’s voice. “I’ve got a gun on you, and I’m guessing you know what that is.”

Whoever it was he sounded like he knew what he was doing.

“Can I sit up?” asked Jake.

“Sure, go right ahead. But no sudden movements.”

Jake slowly sat up, and glanced around. Beghara’s body was lying in the same place; he couldn’t see if she was dead or alive.

Nadeen was gone.

“Where’s Nadeen?”

“The other woman? She went outside as soon as it cooled off a bit; I’d guess she’s scouting the area.”

He was wearing dirty, torn fatigues, enormous military boots, a thriving beard, and a very large Browning Hi-Power automatic pistol that was pointed right at him.

“I see you’ve got a Suunto compass, and a real nice pair of shades, so I’m guessing you recognize this, too,” he said, moving the Browning a fraction of an inch.

“Browning Hi-Power. I’ve used one myself,” said Jake. “Haven’t seen one in quite a while, though...”

“Take a good look, then, and let’s keep this nice and friendly. And if your lady friend comes back I’ll have to ask you to stop her from doing anything that might spoil our little chat here.”

“Nadeen? Yeah, I think I can do that. She doesn’t have a gun.”

The other man nodded and sat down on their packs. The gun stayed pointed right at Jake, though.

“Thomas T. Highweigh, United States Marine Corps. Friends call me TT; everyone else calls me either Gunny or sir, depending. And you?”

“Jake Evans, formerly Special Air Service Regiment.”

“That’s Aussie, right?”

“Yup. Out of Campbell Barracks in Swanbourne.”

“You guys saved our fucking bacon in ’nam.”

“Before my time, I’m afraid,” grinned Jake. “Maybe we can relax and put the gun down now?”

“Yeah, might as well. Got no bullets left anyway,” he said.

“Thanks, TT,” said Jake, and pushed his robe open to reveal his Glock.

“Mine’s loaded,” he added. “Glad that all worked out.”

“Well, yeah, me too!” said TT. “Mind if I call the others in?”

“Others!?”

“Yeah, the rest of my team is waiting down the tunnel.”

“Sure, but let’s do it slow, OK?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“And since things seem to all be copacetic here,” said Jake, “Nadeen? C’mon in, it’s OK now.”

TT spun around to look at the tunnel exit as Nadeen stepped in, a throwing knife in each hand.

TT called out “All clear, guys!”

There was a shuffling in the tunnel darkness and three men emerged into the light.

Jake kept his pistol at ready until it became obvious they were unarmed, pointed to the side.

They were all wearing the same fatigues as TT, equally torn and dirty. One had a bloody bandage wrapped around his arm.

“Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen. I’m Jake Evans, formerly a corporal in the Australian Army, and this is Nadeen. We’re currently employed by a trading company as, um, security, and took a little detour through the caves here.”

The three men found places to sit.

“Speak up, guys... this is the first guy we’ve met that might have a fucking clue what’s going on!”

“Uh, Dr Nolan Geiszler, biologist. On loan from the K-Science Lab.”

“Mack Watney. Botanist. US Army Reserve.”

“Wilhelm Littlejohn. Professor of archaeology at Marshall College. Call me Johnny.”

“And why are you people wandering around these tunnels?”

“We were investigating the tunnel network around Metropolis, and—”

“Metropolis? Where’s that?”

They stared at him.

“You... Metropolis? You don’t know where Metropolis is!?”

“One of the biggest cities on the East Coast!?”

“You mean New York City?”

“No, Metropolis, not New York!” said TT. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“Nope, never heard of it,” said Jake.

“This woman is in bad shape.” It was Geiszler, the biologist. “Snakebite?”

“Beghara was bitten earlier today at the tunnel lake. We have to get her to Thace or she’s going to die.”

“Thace?”

“Whoa, everyone slow down!” shouted TT. “Nolan, can you help her?”

“Yeah, the antivenin should work, I guess.”

He shrugged off his backpack and started rummaging around inside.

Jake’s Glock shifted a bit but stayed pointed at the wall.

Dr Geiszler pulled out a black case and unzipped it to reveal a row of syringes.

He picked one up, bent her head back to reveal her neck, and carefully injected the orange fluid into the artery there.

“Might be an hour or so until she wakes up, but her pulse and breathing should start recovering pretty quickly.”

“You have antivenom that work on these snakes?”

“Yeah, it’s a new type of antivenin developed by Dr. Tompkins at the Project.”

“Nolan, zip it,” broke in TT.

Dr Geiszler shut his mouth for a moment.

“Sorry, not supposed to talk about that. Um, it’s a new type of antivenin that doesn’t need refrigeration and works on most reptilian venoms.”

“And you work for the Project,” mused Jake, “which is presumably some top-secret American deal.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is secret, and I haven’t been authorized to talk to you about it,” said TT. “Not to change the subject or anything, but you said Vietnam was a bit before your time... what did you mean by that?”

“Mean by it? Damn, I wasn’t even born then!”

“You what....!?”

“I was born in 1974,” said Jake.

“But... it’s 1971!”

A confused babble broke out.

“So we got bumped in the future?” asked Professor Littlejohn.

Jake sighed.

“No, it’s rather more complicated than that, I’m afraid. This is sort of a parallel universe, as far as I can tell.”

“With dinosaurs.”

“With dinosaurs,” agreed Jake. “And magic.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Yup, it is that,” laughed Jake. “I was security for an Aussie mining outfit that discovered a tunnel leading here, and I stayed after things went south.”

“And we wandered around in those damn tunnels until most of our party was dead and we ended up here.”

“How many people in your party?”

“We began with fourteen,” said TT. “I was along for security, not that we really expected to need any. And nobody else was even armed.”

“What happened?”

“We stumbled into a huge chamber full of dinosaurs and what we think might have been Neanderthals. They didn’t like us.”

He closed his eyes.

“I only had a few mags, and used them all up getting us into a tunnel. We lost half our team right there, and more later. Just us now.”

“How’d you get through the tunnels?”

“Just tried to use tunnels that sloped upwards... most of our batteries died, and we were down to two pretty weak penlights by the time we stumbled into that lake back there.”

“And you saw us.”

“Actually, heard your voices. I sneaked up for a look and followed you here.”

“Pretty damn quiet!”

TT grinned.

“Nice to hear that from an SAS man!”

“SASR. Aussie, remember?”

“I was a gunnery sergeant,” continued TT, “until they pulled me out of Hanoi to handle security for Probe Six.”

Jake waved at the men. “You’re Probe Six?”

“Yeah, what’s left of it.”

“Wait a sec... pulled you out of Hanoi? You were in North Vietnam?”

“Yeah, sure, I was there as part of the peacekeeping force. Why?”

“Peacekeeping force? What peacekeeping force?”

“Uh, Kurtzberg—I mean, President Kurtzberg—convinced Mao to let the UN run the country until things settled down, and I was in Hanoi helping to keep everything from falling apart.”

“The President of America is named Kurtzberg?”

“Yeah, Jack Kurtzberg... why?”

Jake shook his head in disbelief.

“Wow. I knew time was wacky here already, but.... wow.”

“What?”

“As near as I can recall, you had Kennedy, then Johnson, then Nixon...”

“Who?”

“Tricky Dick. Richard Nixon.”

“Nope. Johnson lost to Kurtzberg, and the whole Vietnam mess was pretty much cleaned up by 1970 or so, once the US and China began working on it together. Who the hell is Nixon?”

“Doesn’t fucking matter anymore, does it...” said Jake. “The world I came from has a different history. Vietnam was a suppurating wound, and Saigon fell in 1975. President Nixon was impeached for spying. China is a world power, the Soviet Union doesn’t exist anymore, and there is no city called Metropolis.”

TT sat back on his haunches.

Everyone just looked at Jake.

“So those lizard statues are real, then?” asked Professor Littlejohn.

“Yup, I think so,” said Jake. “I’ve never seen one in the flesh, but I’m told they ran this place a ten or twenty thousand years ago.”

Littlejohn’s eyebrows rose. “Ten or twenty thousand? That’s a long time...”

TT broke in. “So where is ‘here’?”

“They call it the Dreamlands. I don’t understand it myself, but apparently a lot of human dreams and creations—I mean, books and movies and stuff—end up here, for real. The guy we work for, Factor Chóng, he was born in China in the Han dynasty.”

“Han Dynasty... That would be about 200 BC to 200 AD,” explained Littlejohn.

“And he’s still alive?”

“Very much so. Like I said, time works funny here. And there’re deinos.”

“And there are dinos,” echoed TT.

“Beghara’s waking up,” called Nadeen.

Jake stood, packed his pistol away in its pouch again, and walked over to Beghara.

Nadeen was helping her drink.

Her eyes were open, color good, breathing normal.

Geiszler squatted down next to her to take her pulse. Beghara pulled back at his sudden approach, not knowing who he was, but Nadeen reassured her.

“It’s OK, he’s with us. Relax.”

“Pulse is strong, breathing’s good...” he said, and lifted her hand.

Beghara yanked it away and sat up.

“Easy, Beghara, easy,” calmed Jake. “He saved your life; let him look at your hand.”

She slowly held it out, deep furrows appearing between her brows as she did.

Geiszler peeled back the bandage he had put on earlier, splashed a little water on the wound, and wiped it clean.

The swelling had gone down considerably.

“I don’t see any major tissue damage,” he said. “Looks like you got most of the venom out early and the antivenin took care of the rest.”

He took a little tube of something out of his pack and smeared it over the wound, then put a new bandage on.

“Antibiotic cream. With luck she’ll be able to use that hand normally within a couple days.”

Beghara’s frown had vanished, and flexed her hand a few times to see how much it hurt.

Apparently not much, because she starting searching for her axe, and stood to retrieve it when she finally found it.

Once it was safely in its sling again she sat back down with a sigh of relief.

“Have any more water?” she asked.

Jake handed over a skin.

“Welcome back.”

“Is it safe to drink that?” asked TT. “We ran out of halazone tabs about a week ago.”

“The Ibizim said it was, and since we didn’t have a choice we’ve been drinking it since. Don’t have the runs yet.”

“Ibizim?”

“Local desert tribe. They led us through the tunnels to here, and told us how to get to Thace.”

“You mentioned Thace before.”

“A good-sized oasis on a trade route. We were escorting a caravan there until we ran into some trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Bandits. We started with over a dozen troopers.”

“And you’re the only ones left?”

“We don’t know. The caravan got separated, and we ended up in the tunnels. I’m hoping the rest of the caravan made it, but I’m still in the dark. They might be in Thace, I guess.”

“Those three profs want to spend the rest of their lives down here cataloging stuff,” said TT, jacking his thumb toward the other three men, “but we’ve gotta get out of here and somewhere with supplies and communications, or those lives will be pretty short.”

“Should be plenty of supplies in Thace, but ‘Who ya gonna call?’”

TT noticed the sing-song quote but just looked blankly at Jake.

“You never heard of Ghostbusters, huh?”

TT just shook his head.

“Never mind, just a dumb movie. Point is, this place is pretty much in the Middle Ages, give or take. No phones, no radio, and nobody to call even if you did.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Through a portal on the other side of the world. And yeah, I think it’s still open, and I think I could probably get you guys there, but even if you go through you’d end up in Australia in the year 2020, I think.”

“2020... you’re shittin’ me, right?”

Jake pulled out a handful of coins: gold, silver, copper, stamped with a wide range of different faces and names. Among them were a few Australian coins.

He held out his hand for TT to take a look...

TT picked up a few.

“Elizabeth II, 1994... Elizabeth II, 2012... 2018... 2006... Well, shit. Ain’t that a bummer.”

“Sorry, TT... I’m afraid you’re stuck here for a while.”

Professor Littlejohn seemed quite happy at the prospect: “There a lot of ruins like this around?”

“Shitloads,” said Jake. “Often inhabited.”

Littlejohn grinned. “I’m staying!”

Geiszler and the quiet botanist, Mack Watney, nodded their heads.

“Hell, yes!” said Geiszler. “Probe Six is supposed to look at wildlife, and what I’ve seen here is as wild as it gets!”

“I’m in,” added Watney.

“Well, I guess we’re staying after all,” grinned TT. “So how do we get to Thace?”

Jake turned to Beghara.

“How do you feel?”

She flexed her shoulders, twisted her head back and forth a few times.

“Exhausted. Doesn’t matter; I’ll walk.”

“It’s just past nightfall, and the temperature will be dropping fast out there. Yargui said to travel due east to reach Thace, and I think we can trust her word.”

TT raised an eyebrow obviously wondering who Yargui was, but when he saw Nadeen shoulder her pack and Beghara tie her mask over her nose and mouth, he turned to get his own people ready.

“Ok, you nerds. We’re going out into the desert, which means we can expect sand in the air and in your face. You have something you can use as a mask?”

The three men found pieces of cloth that would serve; one ended up tearing off a shirtsleeve to use as a makeshift mask. TT had a towel in his pack that would work fine.

“Do we need to fill up on water?”

“We just did,” replied Nadeen, “and we were told we’d reach Thace by morning.”

“Everyone good? TT?”

“Good to go.”

“We’ll handle security,” said Jake. “You keep an eye on your people. And look, if you see anything move, anything at all, you make sure one of us knows about it real fast.”

“Expecting anything in particular?”

“Poison-spitting lizards, venomous snakes, swordsmen wearing sand-colored robes, giant antlions that can snap a horse in half... that enough for you?”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” said TT. “I think we get the picture.”

“Nadeen, you see anything out there when you went out?”

“We’re on the eastern side of a pretty large outcropping,” she explained. “Reasonably flat, sloping up slightly all around, but I could see a couple hundred meters in all directions except the rocks, of course. We’ll have to check what’s on the other side when we get to the top of that rise, but there shouldn’t be any surprises waiting right here, at least.”

“Good. You take point.”

“Got it.”

“Beghara, do what you can on the flanks. I’ll bring up the rear. If there’s a problem everyone head for TT.”

He turned to TT.

“You herd the kittens.”

TT nodded.

“All I have is my Ka-Bar. You got a spare toad-sticker?”

Nadeen drew one of her swords and handed it over.

“I want that back,” she said.

“Pretty long,” said TT, swinging it for heft. “Never used one of these... maybe I’ll just stick with my knife for now.” He handed it back and adjusted his pack.

“Got any ammo you can spare?”

“9 mil, sorry. Your Browning’s .40-cal, right?”

“Crap. Yeah.” He turned to his team members. “Ok ladies, let’s get this parade on the road.”

It was almost a full moon now.

Nadeen scouted ahead, walking up the incline to look over the edge. After a minute she waved, and the rest of the party followed.

Jake checked the horizon for a landmark eastward... there was a nice triangle of stars just above the horizon almost directly ahead... It’ll do for now, he thought, until it rotates out of position. Have to check it every so often.

Nadeen was setting a good pace, and even the three scientific members of the team were keeping up so far.

He spotted a good-sized lizard hunting off to the side, but it was small enough to fear them more than he feared it. No doubt most of the wildlife around here has heard us coming and gotten out of our way. Hope we don’t meet anything bigger, though...

They walked for a couple hours, Jake changing his star target every so often as the sky whirled.

He was a little worried about their pace... the scientists were flagging a bit, unused to walking on sand, but he was especially concerned about Beghara. She looked dead-tired, trudging along on sheer obstinance. She was still sweating heavily in spite of the desert cold, and breathing hard.

They couldn’t keep this pace up until morning, and he sure as hell couldn’t carry her very far; she weighed damn near as much as he did!

Jake decided to start looking for a place to shelter during the day, and was just about to signal Nadeen to drop back so he could tell he when suddenly she crouched, holding up her hand.

TT immediately stopped the others, finger to lips, and got his knife out.

Jake and Beghara moved up toward Nadeen, keeping quiet.

“I heard a horse whinny, up ahead,” she whispered.

“How far?”

“Hard to say, but within a couple hundred meters.”

He hand-waved Beghara to stay with TT. She nodded and slipped back as Jake and Nadeen edged forward into a small outcropping.

They both jumped at the sudden voice from above: “I could pincushion you both with arrows where you stand.”

Chapter 8

Jake’s reflexes jumped him back, rolling and drawing his sword in the same motion even as he recognized the voice. A huge, black shadow leapt from the top to land on the sand a few meters distant. The other’s white teeth and eyes flashed brightly in the darkness.

“Danny! It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me, you idiot! Who the hell else would be out in this Godsforsaken desert in the middle of nowhere waiting for you to come bumbling along!”

“But how...?”

“An Ibizim told me you’d be along in a bit... we searched for you last night, too, but you didn’t show. So we came back tonight, and here you are!”

“Coming up!” came a shout from ahead.

Long’s voice, followed by the sounds of horses approaching.

“Sergeant! You’re alive!”

Sergeant Long emerged from the darkness, riding a horse and leading a few more.

“Good to see you, Captain. We thought you were all gone until the Ibizim showed up.”

“We’re good, but Beghara needs a doctor,” said Jake, reaching up to give him a wrist-shake.

“Who are your friends?”

“Later. What about Captain Feng?”

Danny looked down.

“Sorry, the Captain’s dead. So are Ng, Larb, and Malchinkhüü. Ridhi’s hurt bad.”

“Damn. And the Lady and her guard are dead, too.”

TT approached.

“Danny, this is TT. He’s a friend, but he’s new to this part of the world. Those three,” pointing to the three scientists, “are also friends, but not fighters. TT, Danny—Danryce—and Nadeen have been with me for a long time. Sergeant Long is part of the caravan guard.”

TT held out his hand, and Danryce clamped it in a wrist-shake.

It was the first wrist-shake ever for TT, but he’d just watched Jake do it a few times, and caught on fast.

Danny walked over the Beghara, who was leaning on her axe.

“Glad you made it, Beghara... had me worried.”

“And you, Danryce. They can’t get us that easily.”

He picked her up, heavy as she was, and carried her over to the horses, thrusting her up onto the closest one.

“You ride for now; we’ll be back in Thace soon enough.”

Beghara smiled.

“Nothing like a romantic ride under the stars,” she said, and slung her axe across her back again.

“We don’t have enough mounts for everyone, but it’s a short ride from here,” said Long. “Get everyone doubled up—except you two lardballs; you two ride single,” he warned pointing to Danny and Beghara with his chin.

Jake helped TT get his people up onto the horses, and showed them what to hang on to.

“Now let’s get the fuck outta here before Thuba Mleen finds us!”

Sergeant Long led the way.

* * *

They rode east through the desert for about half an hour until they saw the familiar time-worn statues up ahead marking the ancient trade route. Once they were on the road they increased their speed and reached the walls of Thace shortly.

Sergeant Long trotted ahead to talk to the gate guards, and they waved us through without any problem.

“Take them to the inn,” he called to Danny. “I’ll get the physician.”

He galloped off, and Danny pointed down one of the dark, dusty streets.

There were oil lamps scattered here and there, but the city was mostly quiet and empty as we clattered through.

The Spitting Toad was a small inn built close to the city wall, and even in the pre-dawn darkness had clearly seen better days. Still, they had a stable boy who was awake enough to take the horses, a fire still glowing in the fireplace, and a hearty welcome—Yeung and Lau, the archers, were there, with tattooed Serilarinna of Cydathria and Nnamdi.

Jake and Danryce picked up Beghara, each of them draping one of her arms around their neck, and half-carried, half-dragged her to the corner where another body was already lying on mats. She was only half-conscious.

It was Ridhi Chabra, sleeping or unconscious, bandaged wrapped around her upper leg with a smudge of crimson on one side. There was a bowl of water next to her, and a wet cloth folded up across her forehead.

Nnamdi hurriedly spread out another mat, and they laid Beghara down.

“How bad is she?” asked Jake, indicating Ridhi with his chin.

“Bad slash in the thigh,” said Danny. “Surgeon said he might have to cut it off if her fever doesn’t go down.”

“Jake,” called TT. “I’ve got some broad-spectrums left... we didn’t have many injured...”

Jake looked up, understanding the unspoken thought: most of his people died suddenly.

“If you can spare some we’d appreciate it, TT.”

TT dropped his pack and knelt next to it, pulling out a small medkit. He unzipped it and handed over a metallic strip with a dozen red pills. “One a day’ll do it.”

Danny and most of the others were staring at the medkit he was holding. Everyone watched carefully as he zipped it closed.

“What did I do? What’s the big deal? You never seen a medkit befo.... Oh.” He stopped and looked at the zippered medkit in his hand. “Never saw a zipper before, huh? Wow...”

He reached into his pack and pulled out another small zippered case.

He unzipped it, and touched the rolls of film inside, then transferred them to his pack.

“If we’re gonna be here for a while, I guess these photos won’t be of much use.”

He tossed the empty case to Danny.

“Here you are, your very own zipper!”

Danny caught it, raised it to his eyes to study it more closely. He pulled the tab back and forth a few times and grinned, then tossed it to Nnamdi to have a look.

Jake wrung out the cloth and wiped Ridhi’s forehead, then lay the cool cloth across it.

He punched out one of the pills and pried open Ridhi’s mouth.

“Give me a few drops,” he said to Nadeen, who moistened another cloth in the water.

He placed the pill as far back in her mouth as he could, then closed it after Nadeen dripped in a little water.

They waited for her throat to move, and Jake let out his breath as she finally swallowed water and antibiotic.

Jake sat back on his heels.

At last he could relax.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

“I think you need an ale,” said Danny, and Jake returned to the present.

He looked up, stretched out one hand to Danny to help him get up, and the other for the mug of ale Yeung held out.

TT and the three scientists already had their own mugs, and the innkeeper was bringing a plate of roast meat. It was still predawn...pretty strange for any innkeeper to provide this level of service!

They sat and brought each other up to date.

After the Lady and her guard were killed and Jake’s party vanished, the desert assassins vanished, too, leaving their dead behind. Sergeant Long and the others were astonished to hear that the Ibizim has saved them, although he said he suspected it when one suddenly showed up at the inn a few days earlier and said Jake was coming.

They still had most of their horses, and even the carriage, although with the Lady dead it probably wasn’t needed. It had proven invaluable in getting the wounded—Ridhi and Larb—to Thace, though. Larb had died on the way, but with luck Ridhi might survive.

“Captain Feng, Ng, Larb, Malchinkhüü... and Bjørn and Renweard before that,” sighed Jake. “We still have a mission to complete, though, and with luck Lord Ganzorig will pay us what we’re due.”

“Oh, I don’t think payment is much of an issue anymore,” grinned Sergeant Long, pulling out a lumpy leather bag and dropping it on the table. “The Lady was carrying more than enough to cover our expenses, and keep the innkeeper very happy indeed.”

“That’s... gold?”

“Mostly. A little small change mixed in.”

“May I see it?” asked Professor Littlejohn, who had been listening to the conversation intently.

Jake waved at the bag, “Sure, help yourself.”

Johnny poured it out on the table... It was a diverse collection of coins of all sizes and shapes, mostly gold but with a scattering of silver, copper, and even a few orichalc. Round, triangular, a seven-sided flat coin, a four-sided pyramid of silver, all adorned with the faces of once-famous kings and emperors and gods, or worn smooth through decades and centuries of use.

The archaeologist picked them up one by one, studying them intently and murmuring to himself.

He held one unusually large disc of yellowish metal in hand, hefting it.

“This is marked with characters I’ve never seen before,” he said, holding it closer. “and what is this metal? It’s heavier than gold, and the color’s funny.”

Jake held out his hand.

It had an spiral inscription running one side—at least, he assumed it was characters, although he’d never seen anything like it. It sort of reminded him of Arabic, but this was a single line, jumping and darting left and right, with dots and marks on either side. Maybe more like a signal trace on an oscilloscope, he thought. Weird.

He handed it to Long.

“That’s T’pictyl,” he said after a glance. “Don’t know it, myself. Orichalc, of course.”

“T’pictyl? Never heard of it! Orichalc is famous in history and myth, of course, but I thought it was just brass...?”

Jake laughed.

“I warned you, Professor. You are living in a myth now, and if he says it’s orichalc, I’d believe him.”

“And what’s T’pictyl?”

Jake looked at Sergeant Long, raising an eyebrow.

“Legend says they’re giant beetles, the size of men, who created the gods. I’ve seen their writings here and there in forgotten places, over the years. It’s written vertically,” explained Long. “Never seen a giant beetle, though.”

“Orichalc... wow. I wish Alan was still here to look at this...”

“Who’s Alan?”

“Alan Helmsley. He was our geologist,” said TT. “The dinos got him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard any legends of giant beetles,” mused Littlejohn. “We’re here, and we’ve still got scattered bits of equipment left, so apparently you can move things between home and here...”

“You had a lot of gear with you?” asked Jake.

“Oh, yeah, tons of cameras and measurement instrumentation and such. The dinosaurs got some of it, and most of the rest we threw away after the batteries ran out. Still have the film, of course, much good that’ll do us here...”

“Shit! You said penlights! Batteries!”

“Yeah?”

“Quick, give me your penlights and any batteries you have left. Everything electronic or electrical that might still have a charge left! Hurry!”

TT and the three scientists were taken aback at Jake’s sudden outburst, but scrabbled around through their bags and pockets to put four penlights (one broken), an assortment of batteries, and one Nikon light meter on the table.

Jake scooped them up and ran to the fireplace. He dropped them on the stone hearth, and picked up one of the large rocks lined up in front of it.

“Hey, what are you—”

TT’s shout was lost in the noise as Jake smashed the rock down on the batteries and lights, crushing them. He lifted it again, and a third time, until there was nothing but fragments left.

“What the hell, Jake!” cried TT, dropping to his knees to look at the pieces. “You fucking destroyed our lights!”

Jake sat down heavily, the rock falling from his hand to clunk on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I should have realized earlier. You can’t use electronics here, and probably not electricity.”

“You mean you don’t want to teach them about electricity?”

“No, it’s not that,” sighed Jake, catching his breath. “It’s magic, and yeah, I know you’re not going to believe me, but believe me. There’s a goddess or shaman or something running around that really hates electricity, and when she notices it she fucking destroys stuff. I mean, everything is just fucking gone.

“Remember I said I came here from Australia? I was a security guard at a mine. They discovered this portal, and had no fucking idea what it was, but when they prospected they found rare earths, so they set up a mine. Made a deal with a local trader, had a whole little mining town running.

“And then this bitch Reed finds out about the mining equipment and radios and shit and in the space of like ten seconds destroyed the whole thing. Huge fucking holes in the ground, spherical gouges where everything was just gone. Equipment, Quonset huts, people. Sonic booms as the air rushed to fill the vacuums where everything had been, and then just fucking holes.

“I was damned lucky to be far enough away to escape.

“Chóng never did find out how many of his people died, but probably well over a hundred.”

“Who’s Chóng?”

“The trader they dealt with here in the Dreamlands. And my current employer.” Jake stood. “Anyway, I’m sorry for destroying your stuff, but I’m not gonna fuck with electricity here again. That fucking bitch killed a couple dozen of my buddies, too, and if she never comes near me again that’ll be just fine.”

“Reed, you said?”

“Yeah. They said something about reincarnation and some god named Amaterasu.”

“Amaterasu is the Japanese goddess of the sun, and the mythical founder of the Japanese imperial line,” said Johnny. “Never heard of Reed; that’s certainly not a Japanese name.”

“Whatever. I’m more interested in staying alive,” said Jake. “You guys sure you haven’t forgotten anything? I’m dead serious—if you’ve got something hidden away, either give it to me now or get the fuck out of this inn.”

“Hey, easy guy, take it easy,” said TT, holding his hands up to placate Jake. “I’m sure that’s everything, but maybe let’s all take another look just to be sure, Ok?”

He turned to the three scientists, and they began rifling through their packs again.

One more tiny battery turned up, a button cell that was rolling around in the bottom of a pack.

TT gave it to Jake, and it was quickly smashed to join the others.

“Jake! Beghara’s waking up!”

At Nadeen’s call everyone turned to look at the corner where Beghara and Ridhi were lying.

Beghara was sitting up, sipping water.

Dr Geiszler walked over and reached for her wrist, and Beghara dropped one hand to her dagger, just in case.

“Easy, Beghara,” called Danny. “He’s a physician. Let him see.”

Nolan took her pulse, then unwrapped the bandage on her hand for a closer look.

“The wound is inflamed, of course, but it’s not badly infected as far as I can see,” he said. “Her pulse is strong, and her breathing’s good. Fever’s gone. As long as that bite doesn’t get infected she should be fine.”

He turned to Ridhi, taking her pulse, prying open one eye for a look, and then peeled back the bandage on her leg for a closer look.

“Not great, but stable, I’d say. Still has a fever, but she only just took that antipyretic a little while ago.”

He replaced the wet cloth on her forehead with a new one.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, but let me clean this. Can you boil some water?”

Yeung trotted over the fireplace where a huge kettle of water was boiling away.

“Plenty of hot water,” he said, bringing back a bowl full.

“Get that cooled down,” said Nolan. “and tell me when it’s about body temperature.”

Yeung began fanning the bowl of water.

Jake and TT sat back down at the table.

Beghara slowly stood, hand on Nadeen’s shoulder for support, and walked to the closest bench, sitting down with a thump.

“So,” said Sergeant Long, “what now?”

“We still have a job to complete,” said Jake.

“But the Lady is dead!”

“You all saw her body, I think... there never was a Lady, only a stratagem by Factor Humaydah to deliver something to Ganzorig, First Lord of Eudoxia. The Factor entrusted me with that message before she died.”

“So we are still under contract, then?” asked Beghara.

“Yes, and as part of that contract, I claim this gold,” said Jake, sweeping it all toward himself. “And, as part of that same contract, I will now pay out the amounts you are owed.”

“Master! A scale, please!”

“In a minute, in a minute,” came a response from the kitchen, and shortly a server came running with a small, handheld scale and weights.

Jake began weighing up gold for each member, paying them the funds that had been agreed upon for the entire trip to Euxodia. He also weighed the amount due the dead—Ng, Larb, Bjørn, Renweard, and of course Feng—and pushed the pile of coinage to Sergeant Long.

“Sergeant, I think you should keep this... you know who should get it, I think, and if they do not have families then of course split it amongst yourselves.”

“I... Thank you, Captain,” replied Long. “Ng Mei-Sun was not married, but he sent cash to his parents in Ophir. I know nothing of Larb of Baharna. Bjørn and Renweard had nothing but themselves.

“I will make sure that Ng’s parents receive his money, but propose giving the rest to Ridhi Chabra,” he continued. “She may never walk again, and will need all the help she can get.”

He turned to the others: “What say you?”

The others—Yeung, Seri, Nnamdi, Beghara, and Lau—all signed their assent.

He handed the piles of coins to each of them, set aside Ng’s pile, and then pushed the remaining, largest pile into a leather pouch.

“You put your own share into that pouch, too, Sergeant,” pointed out Jake.

“Yes, I did.”

Long placed the pouch next to Ridhi Chabra’s head.

“TT, we will be leaving for Eudoxia—a major city several days south of here, again through the desert,” said Jake. “I expect enemies to follow and no doubt attack us again. You are welcome to accompany us, if you like, and here are some funds to help you.”

He handed over another pile of coins, including the large orichalc coin that Johnny Littlejohn was so interested in.

“My recommendation is for you to travel south to the sea and then by ship to Celephaïs; King Kuranes was an Englishman, and would probably be able to help you all better than I can. Still, I’ll circle back here after the mission’s done, and escort you to Celephaïs if you can wait.”

“I don’t think taking these three men on a combat mission is such a good idea... would we be in danger here as well?”

“Only from the usual city thieves and robbers,” said Sergeant Long. “Thuba Mleen’s after us, not you.”

“Wish I knew more about the whole situation out here,” complained TT, “but I guess I gotta play what I’m dealt. We’ll stay for a while—maybe until Miss Chabra is back on her feet—and then head up towards this Celephaïs. Hopefully you’ll be back by then to help us get there.”

Jake nodded.

“Before we go, let me give you a copy of my map, and some info. You’ve got a lot to learn real fast, and no Google to help.”

“Google?”

Jake laughed.

“Sorry, I forgot. After your time. Uh, Google is a communications and information network accessed by mobile terminals. The successor to your ARPANET. Doesn’t really matter that much, since it isn’t here anyway.”

“Great. What other unobtainable surprises do you have to offer?”

“Shit, I’d love a drone right about now.”

“What the fuck is a... Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

“TT, can I rely on you to stay with Ridhi Chabra until she’s out of that bed?”

“I’ll be driving blind half the time, but it can’t be that much different from Vietnamese villages out in the jungle,” replied TT. “We’ll take care of her.”

“Thank you. The innkeeper has already been paid, but once we leave he’ll open it up to other customers, and you’ll have to move into that room in the back. I don’t expect anyone’ll bother you, but keep your eyes open.”

TT nodded.

“Now let me talk to my Sergeant a bit,” said Jake, turning to Long. “Oh, by the way... don’t chuck your brass, TT. I’m hoping to figure out a way to make reloads.”

“Don’t have many left: things were sorta busy.”

“Hopefully I can get new ones made, too... anyway, we’ll see.”

TT stood and walked over to his three charges, and handed Johnny the orichalc disc.

Jake and Long began talking about preparations.

“Do we need to hire more troopers?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” said Long. “but we can’t hire enough to really make much difference if Thuba Mleen attacks... he can field hundreds of warriors. He must have hit us with a couple dozen, at least... speaking of which, what happened? As soon as you vanished, so did his troopers!”

Jake dropped his voice.

“How much do you know about the Factor’s mission?”

“Nothing, really... just deliver a woman to the Lord. Except obviously that was all just a ploy.”

“I don’t know much myself, but Chóng, Ganzorig, and the Ibizim are working together to stop Thuba Mleen. The message I carry is part of that, and the Ibizim saved us because of it.

“They only saved us because they could do it without being seen, in the sandstorm. It has to stay secret.”

“I wondered how you managed to kill so many of Mleen’s fighters...”

“They pulled us into a tunnel, and from there to safety. We walked through their Home, too.”

“You’ve been to Home!? It’s death to enter!”

“Apparently it’s only death if you’re uninvited...”

“Can they help us get to Eudoxia?”

“They said no, but they might be watching from the shadows. Could be useful.”

Sergeant Long digested the new information.

“By the way, we picked up your pack, with your spyglass and shimmer... and a few other things we thought might be of use. Didn’t know if you would be coming back for them or not...”

He handed Jake’s pack over, a little the worse for wear.

“Thanks. Both will be needed, I think. You have you own, right?”

“Of course.”

Jake sat back, and spoke in his regular voice so everyone could hear.

“So, I think we can assume Mleen knows where we are. He hasn’t bothered us yet, because he was searching for you. And now that you’re here—which he no doubt knows by now—he’s likely to come calling.”

“Yup. Which is why we have to be gone before he gets here.”

“Will they be alright?” Long tilted his head toward the four strangers, and Ridhi.

“Probably. Once we leave, four lost tourists and a wounded scout shouldn’t attract much attention.”

“You’re thinking speed over stealth, then?”

“All that rigamarole pretending to be a wedding party didn’t work... I don’t see any reason to believe we can sneak out of here, either. This is Mleen’s territory.”

“Not sure I take kindly being called a tourist,” said TT.

“Well, until you get up to speed on swords and bows, you’re closer to a non-combatant, I’m afraid,” said Jake. “A good swordsman would probably kill you before you got close enough to use that knife.”

“Only if he saw me,” smiled TT. “But I take your point. Dammit.”

“You know, Sergeant, we still have quite a large war chest, thanks to the Factor... I’m thinking maybe we should put it to good use...”

He explained his plan to the Sergeant, who spoke with his remaining troopers. They all slipped out of the inn shortly.

Chapter 9

Ridhi Chabra’s fever broke just as the sun was just peeking above the horizon.

She was weak and terribly hungry and thirsty, but lucid.

Nadeen and Danny helped her get cleaned up, and Nolan Geiszler gave them a quick course in how to keep wounds clean.

After she had a full belly and was up on the latest news, Sergeant Long told her they’d be leaving the next evening, and showed her the gold they’d left her.

Jake sat down next to her , assuring her he’d be coming back to Thace as soon as the mission was completed. “I’ll escort you back to your home, wherever that it, if you like.”

She had little to say... a fighter with a bad leg was unlikely to find much work, and a woman with a bad leg unlikely to find a good husband—except for very rich households, everybody worked. Her future looked bleak.

Jake dropped his voice and spoke to her quietly; the others gave them some space.

Nnamdi returned shortly with a load of paper, followed shortly by Serilarinna with a bundle of small cylinders, and sticks of wax.

As Nnamdi tore the paper into index-card sized pieces, Jake got a quill and ink from the innkeeper and began writing messages on them.

“EXACT FILMY GHOST LOWER PIZZA?” read TT. “Some kind of code?”

“A very secret message indeed! So secret that I haven’t the faintest idea what it means myself!” laughed Jake. “You know any languages other than English?”

“Vietnamese, a little Hmong, a little Russian, six words in French... what do you need?”

“Vietnamese, that’s great! Here, write something that looks like a coded message on some of these, will you?”

“Yeah, sure, but what’s the deal here?”

“I have to deliver a message to Lord Ganzorig in Eudoxia, and Thuba Mleen wants to stop me. I figured since he wants it so much I’d give it to him! In a couple dozen different ways.”

Nnamdi began writing out a handful of messages himself, in Arabic.

As each message was finished, they handed the paper to Seri, who blotted it, carefully folded it, and sealed it with melted wax and one of the many seals she had brought.

“Each one looks very official, and is written in some code, and is sealed by someone, so it must be important. Nobody will be able to actually read any of them, but each one will have to be taken to Thuba Mleen so he can see it,” explained Jake. “And there are going to be a lot of these things...”

“First batch is ready,” called Sergeant Long from the door. Lau Hu stepped inside and picked up a completed message, and a few coins. Outside in the sunlight he gave one of the sealed messages to the robed man waiting there, and then placed a gold coin on top of it.

“You can receive another from Lord Ganzorig of Eudoxia when you deliver this message,” he told the man, who examined the coin and nodded. “Tell him it is from Factor Humaydah, who promised you a gold piece on delivery.”

A few minutes later another fighter showed up, and Lau repeated the process.

Yeung joined Jake at the table and began writing messages in Chinese.

“How about mixing them up a bit?” he suggested. “Might be fun to have Arabic and Chinese on the same one!”

“Sure, go for it!”

Over the source of the day dozens of prospective couriers had come to receive their payments and instructions, and finally they were done.

Seri threw the wooden seals into the fireplace.

The couriers would leave whenever they liked over the next day and night, by whatever routes they liked. Some would travel by themselves, others in groups, but they were all headed toward Eudoxia.

Jake realized a few of them would just take the advance payment and run off, but that was fine, too... they’d still have received a message, and assuming that Thuba Mleen was watching he’d have to collect every one of them even if they didn’t head for Eudoxia.

As the last of the couriers left, the horses arrived.

There were two dozen horses, and after they were tied up to the inn’s hitching post, the merchant walked over to Sergeant Long, who counted out the agreed-upon price.

Humaydah’s gold was just about gone, but they wouldn’t have any more use for it after this, thought Jake. Either this plan works, or we’ll be dead. Or maybe both.

They split into two groups, Sergeant Long saddled up with archer Yeung, lithe Serilarinna, and Beghara, while Jake, Nadeen, and Danryce would ride with Lau Hu, the other archer, and Nnamdi, who favored a scimitar.

Each group took two spare mounts for each rider, and they checked every horse carefully. One horse turned out to have a bad hoof, and was left for the innkeeper. Another, blind in one eye, they decided to keep.

Water and food were distributed among the horses to minimize loads, but Lau’s load included three quivers of arrows.

Sergeant Long left in the early morning, before the sun got very high, and planned to stop at a known resting spot down the road, setting forth again in the evening.

Jake and his group would until nightfall, and would spend the rest of the hot day catching up on sleep.

Jake took the first watch, and at the noon Hour of the Horse collapsed into slumber as Nadeen relieved him.

* * *

The shadows were getting quite long when Nnamdi woke everyone. He had slept until Nadeen woke him at the Hour of the Cock, taking over guard duty until it was dark enough to leave.

After a hasty meal, Jake gave a few of their last gold coins to the innkeeper, requesting that he continue to help Ridhi and TT’s team.

“I expect to be back in about a week,” he said, shaking TT’s hand Western-style instead of with the wrist-shake they used in the Dreamlands. “If something happens, leave me a note, and I’ll try to catch up.”

“We will,” said TT. “You’re awfully confident you’ll be back.”

“I always come back,” laughed Jake. “Considering you’re about, um—ninety years old?—you take care of yourself, too!”

“Fuck you, Jake.”

“And you.”

Ridhi came to the door to see them off, supported by Nolan.

She and Jake exchanged a glance, and she nodded.

“Wait for us, Ridhi. We’ll be back as soon as we can,” said Danny.

“I’ll be here, but don’t dawdle or I’ll sign up with another group and get back to work!”

Danny smiled, and wheeled his horse to join the waiting others.

“Ready? Then let’s go,” said Jake, and they started out at a trot.

They were through the city gates a few minutes later, and back on the familiar store road, marked by the decaying stone statues. They passed a camel caravan about ten minutes later, a string of pack beasts carrying innumerable boxes and bales bound for Eudoxia, and from there to Adelma, Shiroora Shan, and the other cities on the shores of the Night Ocean, and beyond.

“Did you notice the guide?” asked Nadeen quietly, a few minutes later. “He was one of the couriers.”

“I did. Good luck to him.”

“Haven’t seen anything unusual yet, though...”

“Me neither. Hope it stays that way!”

They kept the pace for about an hour, then stopped to change mounts, and let the horses drink and rest. The moon was yet almost full, and the cloudless sky revealed the empty night desert stretching away on all sides. It would be difficult for an enemy to surprise them here.

They hoped to ride another seven or eight hours before finding a place to hide from the day’s heat. The following night should take them to the crags of Adelma, and depending on their speed they might even reach Eudoxia itself.

Several hours later, Nnamdi guided his horse closer to Jake and spoke in a low voice.

“There are at least two riders riding parallel to us on our right. They’ve been there for maybe half an hour now.”

“That didn’t take long,” said Jake, and signaled to Nadeen, Danny, and Lau in turn, holding up two fingers and pointing in the direction of the riders.

Lau Hu picked his bow up from where it was hanging on his saddle, and made sure the arrows in the front quiver were loose.

“Take Nadeen with you,” said Jake. “There might be more out there. And don’t chase them! We need you with us!”

“I’ll let my shafts chase them,” replied Lau. “I’m much too scared to get close!”

They unhitched their spare mounts, handing the ropes to Danny, and suddenly Nadeen and Lau broke into a gallop, breaking right.

It took an instant for the two pursuers to react, and in that instant the two of them cut the distance between them dramatically.

Lau began shooting from the saddle, quickly hitting one of the men in the shoulder and his horse in the flank.

The horse reared in pain, and the rider, caught off-guard in his own pain, was thrown.

Nadeen leaned from the saddle as they rode past and lopped his arm, sword and all, clean off, while Lau fired at the remaining rider. They’d lost their advantage, though, and the other man rode safely out of range, and into the darkness.

Nadeen cursed.

“Damn. One is better than none, but I really wanted to stop them from getting word out.”

Lau grunted in assent. “If they’ve been following us for any length of time, they’ve already sent a messenger... our best bet now is to get off the road, or ride a lot faster than they expect.”

They stopped to recover as many arrows as they could, and check the body.

The dead man had only a few coppers and a cheap sword, but he was missing his ring finger—common among troopers sworn to Thuba Mleen.

“If that’s the best Thuba Mleen has, we’ve little to worry about... not very impressive fighters.”

“Just chaff, sent to find us. Their real troopers will come next time.”

They led the wounded horse back to the road, removed the arrow, and cleaned the wound.... it wouldn’t be able to keep up with them, but they’d leave it here, and maybe a slower caravan would find it before it died of thirst.

“Lau? Nnamdi? What do you think?” asked Jake. “You’re more familiar with this area, and Thuba Mleen... hide, leave the road, or race on?”

“They can ride as fast as we can, and almost certainly outnumber us,” said Lau. “I’d say leave the road, even if it costs us a day.”

“Nnamdi?”

Nnamdi shrugged. “Who knows what Thuba Mleen may do? But he knows the desert better than we do, certainly, and if we leave the road we would lose our only sure guides.”

“So ride, then?”

“That’s my suggestion. Hiding won’t do any good; he’ll just keep combing through the area until we run out of water and have to start running again.”

“Nadeen? Danny?”

“I’m not much on hiding,” said Danny, “and I’m pretty fed up with wandering around the desert... I’d say ride, and fight if we have to.”

Nadeen nodded. “It’d be real nice to see open water again, even if it is the Night Ocean. Ride.”

“That’s that, then. OK, let’s change horses now and give them a little rest, then pick it up.”

They watered the horses, switched to fresh mounts, and got ready.

The desert night was chilly and light enough to ride the road safely... they’d have to move slower on the desert sand itself, or risk unseen holes and loose rock. Their horses were already a bit tired, but they’d been trotting, with breaks every so often... they’d be riding much faster now.

“We’ll have to let the horses loose,” he said. “It’ll be impossible to keep them roped when we start; hopefully they’ll tag long.”

He dug into his saddlebag and pulled out a few apples. Chucking them to the others, he cut his apples into quarters, walking among his horses and feeding them all: “Maybe if they want more apples they’ll tag along.”

In about ten minutes Jake mounted his horse, and the other followed suit.

“Let’s go.”

They broke into a fast pace, not a full gallop but considerably faster than the leisurely pace they’d set thus far. A gallop would tire their horses very quickly, and they needed distance more than they needed speed.

The other horses followed along behind, content to stay with the group for now.

The cloud of dust rising in their wake left a clear trail for any watchers to see, even in the night’s darkness.

They crested a small hill, revealing the road stretching away in both directions.

“Can’t see anyone,” said Lau Hu, straining his eyes. “As long as they didn’t kick up dust, though, they could be anywhere.”

“Let’s hope the one who ran away was the only watcher, then.”

The horizon was beginning to pale with the coming dawn when Danryce whistled and pointed off to the side.

Jake slowed to look... an outthrust of stone half a kilometer away looked to be a good place to camp for the day. No oasis, of course, but merely having a cliff nearby to hide the sun for a few hours—or more, if the shadows fell in their favor—would help. They still have water, and sunshades to cover them and their horses.

They circled around to the far side of the outcropping, out of sight from the road, and set up camp.

They did what they could to camouflage themselves, but it’s difficult to hide a herd of horses in the desert. The shimmer would help—Jake had gotten one from Sergeant Long in Thace; he kept the other one that Captain Feng had used—but it only hid them from people more than a hundred meters distant, and did nothing to block sound at all. Still, every little bit helped, and the fact that it would be a little cooler and darker inside was a bonus.

If they could keep the horses quiet and none of Thuba Mleen’s fighters stumbled close by accident, they should be alright.

They unsaddled the horses, watered and fed them, and prepared for another hot, sweaty sleep.

Danny lost and took the first watch.

Lau woke Jake up in the afternoon for the last watch.

“Anything?”

“Not really,” said Lau. “A single rider went past a few hours ago, out in the desert. Too far to tell if it was one of Thuba Mleen’s troopers or not, but he was in a hurry.”

“Might have been one of the people we hired to carry a message.”

“Might have been... didn’t see anyone chasing him.”

“Thanks. Go on, I’ve got it now.”

Lau Hu stretched out on his own bedroll, leaving Jake to check the horses and keep watch.

They couldn’t make a fire for dinner, of course—the smoke would give them away—but in this heat nobody really needed one. It would be another day of jerky, dried fruit, and stale bread washed down with hot water.

Jake wished he had a cigarette... he never had smoked much, but being forced to sit and wait for the sun to go down was driving him crazy. The desert was swarming with people who wanted to kill him, and he was stuck here watching the sand grow.

They should have had three horses for each of them, and swapping them out every so often had helped them keep their speed up, but that last spurt had cost them. Unable to keep the horses roped together, they’d let them run alongside, and two of them had decided to spit off and go their own way.

Maybe they got injured and slowed down, maybe they smelled water, he didn’t know. The key point was that they didn’t have three apiece anymore, and that meant the horses they still had would be working harder.

He checked them all carefully, and selected the biggest two for himself and Danny: the two heaviest riders. Nadeen was about the same as an average male trooper, but Lau and Nnamdi were both pretty small and light. The two of them got only one spare apiece.

A few hours later he woke the rest of the party and they got ready for the night’s ride.

Nobody had much to say, and the tough jerky kept them all pretty busy anyway.

“Tonight we’ll reach the Adelma mountains,” said Jake. “If the horses can hold the pace we might get within spitting distance of Eudoxia. I don’t think they spotted us here today, but once we start moving it might get real interesting real fast.”

Lau counted his arrows. “They might lose interest after I knock a few off their horses.”

“I hope there are that few,” grimaced Nnamdi, “but I don’t think Thuba Mleen does things that way.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Jake stood, adjusting his sword belt.

“Shadows are getting pretty long. I want to push the horses tonight, hopefully they’ll last at least until the Hour of the Rat, and we can switch off to our spare mounts. We know we were spotted earlier, and it’s likely there are scouts looking for us.

“I’d rather outrun them than have to outfight them,” he added.

He checked his compass again.

“Assuming we’re where I think we are, just head for the mountains... once we get a little closer we can figure out the best route. And since we can see the mountains, I’d like to stay away from the road for now. We’d be faster on the road, for sure, but we’d also stand out.”

They mounted up and started off at a trot.

“If anyone sees a wadi coming down from the mountains tell me... we could make good time that way, straight to the mountains.”

“Assuming it doesn’t rain,” commented Nnamdi.

“Assuming it doesn’t rain,” agreed Jake. “A good bet in my book.”

They kept up a steady pace, but not a gallop. The horses couldn’t gallop very long without getting winded, and even at this relatively leisurely pace they were getting tired.

Jake pushed them more than usual—he didn’t like to do it, but they were getting close to Eudoxia, and if he had to kill a horse to get there safely, he would.

The desert was a study in contrast: the sand glowing almost white in the moon’s radiance, and shadows a deep black that would hide anything.

This eastern stretch of the desert was covered with crags and outthrusting rocks, with sand everywhere. When the wind blew, very fine dust got into everything, and could reduce visibility to a few dozen meters. When the air was still, he could clearly see the black shadows of rocks a kilometer away, and realize that a hundred enemies could be hiding there, unseen.

They stopped for their first rest about three hours later. The horses were panting, streaked with sweat, and eager to drink. They changed mounts and did their best to rest the animals. One more horse had broken away from the group, who knows why or where... it was gone.

Half an hour later they started off again, and two more horses—the pair that had carried Jake and Danny—followed them for a few hundred meters before falling behind, eventually stopping to rest.

Jake pressed on.

A few hours later and the ground was slowly rising, as they reached the edges of the desert and began entering the mountains.

“Somebody’s following us now,” called Nadeen. “Looks like about a dozen... too far to make out much detail, but they’re following our trail.”

“Damn. I was beginning to think we might make it.”

Jake checked his compass—straight on ahead, right between those two large outcroppings.

“A little faster, then... let’s get deeper into the mountains so they can’t encircle us!”

He picked his horse, urging it to go a little faster. There was no point in riding it to exhaustion, but he needed a little more, and the horse had a little more to give.

The others followed.

Danny was in the lead, with Lau bringing up the rear, but they were all pretty closely bunched. They had no carriage to protect this time.

Suddenly Danny’s horse reared, and leaped to the right, collapsing to its knees on the sand right next to the rocks, then staggering forward, eyes white in terror.

Danny barely managed to hold on, and would have fallen off if his shoulder hadn’t smashed into the rock face.

Sandroach!

Chapter 10

The horses neighed, bucked, and broke.

Nnamdi’s horse, perhaps too tired to pay attention, was unable to stop, and began to slip into the pit. Nnamdi leapt off at once, landing on the flat sand outside the pit, unable to do anything but watch as the terrified animal slid deeper and deeper into the sandroach’s lair.

A black pincer snapped out, a horse screamed, and died.

“Get them under control!” shouted Jake. “Get their blinders on!”

They yanked on their ropes, managing to bring their mounts under control, but all the other horses but one fled into the shadows around them.

“Can we get through on the side?” yelled Jake.

“Yes, there’s enough room. Be careful it doesn’t hit you with a rock, though!” shouted Danny in reply.

They tried it, gingerly leading one horse at a time along the narrow path between rock and pit.

The sandroach flung sand and stones at them, hoping to dislodge more prey into the pit, but outside of getting even more sand in their hair and eyes, they all got across safely.

“We’ve lost our spare mounts, and Thuba Mleen’s troops are coming fast,...” said Danny. “Time to find a good place to make a stand.”

Jake cocked his head.

“How wide would you say that pit is, Lau?”

“Wide? Uh, maybe thirty, forty meters... why?

“And the shimmer is good for about a hundred meters... so if I set up the shimmer here, and they come riding at full speed...”

Danny laughed.

“Oh, you’re a nasty one, aren’t you, Jake! But they won’t be able to see you on the other side of the shimmer.”

“Rope me; I’ll set it up in the pit,” said Jake, tying one end around his waist and walking toward the pit. “Pull me up when I shout, or if that damn thing knocks me out with a rock!

“Nadeen, hobble my horse so it looks like it’s got a bad leg. I want it to look wounded, or exhausted.”

He jumped into the pit, half falling and half sliding down the slope, and about halfway down stopped to place the incense holder, which held both the shimmer and the smoking incense.

“Stay lit, you son of a bitch. I’m counting on you!”

As soon as it was set he pulled away from it, sliding around the pit in the hope of getting any new rocks aimed at him and not the shimmer.

It worked, and he was rewarded with a spray of gravel and sand.

“Pull me up, Danny!”

The rope went taut, and he lost his balance, dragged up out of the pit faster than he could walk.

And faster than the sandroach could react, apparently... a pincer slammed into the sand where he’d been a few second ago, and by the time it was ready to strike a second time, he was almost at the pit’s rim.

“Well,” he panted, “that was fun...”

He sat up and untied the rope.

“They’re all looking for me, so I’ll let them find me,” he said. “Get behind those rocks, and get ready to take care of anyone who makes it past the roach. I’m going to play bait.”

He waved them off, and began slowly walking with his horse uphill, away from the pursuing fighters, as if trying to flee with a wounded mount.

Nadeen watched for a second, then wheeled her horse and followed after Danny and the others.

The horse was very angry about the hobble, and was not in the mood to walk. She bucked and pulled and generally acted like a horse that couldn’t be ridden... which was exactly what Jake wanted.

He heard shouts, and turned to face them.

He swatted his horse’s flank, urging it to continue up the slope to join the rest of the horses. It complied, hobbling along and complaining loudly.

Jake drew his sword, a lone swordsman preparing to defend himself again a mounted force that outnumbered him.

Seeing their prey at their mercy, they kicked their horses’ flanks, surging into a gallop, each eager to claim the bounty.

The man in the front saw the sandroach’s pit at the last minute, and tried vainly to pull his steed to a halt, only to be toppled in by a second horse close behind. One after another they tumbled into that hell of snapping jaws and flashing pincers, screams silenced all too rapidly.

Three managed to pull their horses to the side in time, avoiding certain death, then turning to flee back into the night.

“Thanks, bug... appreciate the assist!” said Jake, racing after his horse. He slashed the hobble free, and mounted, trotting up this hill to join the others.

“Worked like a charm!” he said. “A few got away, though... they’ll be back soon enough, and with a bigger crew. Time to get moving.”

The sandroach had given them a little time, but at the cost of their shimmer and most of their spare mounts... only two left for the five of them.

“We’ll have to try to make Eudoxia tonight, I think,” said Jake.

“Most of our waterskins are gone with those horses,” added Nadeen. “And no shimmer and low on water, it’ll be tough tomorrow. We have to make Eudoxia.”

The others agreed.

“The fastest way is down out of the mountains again,” suggested Jake, “and back into the desert. We’re getting out of dune country and into flat scrubland, so the horses can make some speed.”

“If they’re strong enough...”

“I don’t see any other choice,” said Jake, twitching the reins to guide the horse away from the snow-tip peaks ahead and back down toward the desert.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later they were out of the rocky area and back on mostly flat land.

The full moon was heading toward the horizon, but there was still ample light to see scattered cacti and scrub stretching to the dim horizon. Already the sky was lightening in the east.

They upped their speed, always heading toward Euxodia but letting the horses pick their own courses, for the most part.

A statue appeared off to the right—the road!

They angled toward it, then turned again to head for Eudoxia.

The roadway was buried in sand here and there, but they could see wheel ruts and tracks indicating that caravans had passed very recently. Clearly, this led to the city.

“Horsemen coming up on the left, Jake!” called Lau. “A lot!”

Jake turned to look.

He couldn’t see them too clearly yet, but Lau was right. There were a lot of them.

No time to put Danny on the spare mount after all.

He kicked his heels into his horse, goading it to put forth even more effort, but it was clear their pursuers were gaining.

An arrow hummed through the air over his head.

Damn. They’d pincushion them all, and nothing he could do about it.

Ahead of them, somewhere in the distance, was Eudoxia.

There was no way they’d make it.

He wondered if his plan had worked after all... looked like he’d never find out.

Suddenly his horse snorted, throwing its head.

Jake turned to see what had spooked it.

A tsunami!? Couldn’t be... a sandstorm?

A black cloud, a rolling, crashing storm of sand, came racing toward them from the direction of the city, and before they even had time to react was past them with not a single hair ruffled in the passing.

Behind them, though, it tore into their pursuers like the talons of a monster, ripping them apart, throwing them high into the air, shattering them in an instant.

Then it was gone, off like a light, and their horses slowed to a walk, and stopped.

Behind them, around them, scattered rags and broken bodies fell from the peaceful sky, decorating the whitish desert sands with bits of color and gore.

“...what the hell...?”

Jake laughed.

“Well, damn! That was good timing!”

“What just happened?” asked Nadeen in a tiny voice, still in shock.

“That was the Lady’s amulet, I suspect,” said Jake. “I think Lord Ganzorig just announced he doesn’t need Thuba Mleen’s protection anymore...”

“What amulet!?”

“The Lady wanted me to deliver an amulet to Ganzorig. The bride and the ‘secret message’ were just camouflage.”

“So how did he get the amulet, then? You have it, right?”

“Hell, no. I gave it to Ridhi Chabra when we left Thace, and she flew it here by dragolet. Like I said, I’m just bait.”

“You son of a bitch! We could have been killed!”

“Yup, me too.”

“And Sergeant Long? Does he know about this ploy of yours?”

“Nope, just me and Ridhi. Everything else was just a scam. And it worked!”

“Riders coming from the city,” said Nnamdi, pointing.

About a hundred horse warriors, lances high, rode toward them into the dawning light.

“If they’ve got lances,” said Nnamdi, “they’re not Thuba Mleen’s. Must be Eudoxia.”

With them rode Sergeant Long and Serilarinna.

As the lancers fanned out to make sure there were no more enemies lurking, they greeted each other.

“You made it.”

“We did. Not real happy to find out I was just bait, but it worked,” said Long. “Lord Ganzorig, on the other hand, is very upset with you because he had to pay a half a dozen couriers for worthless slips of paper.”

“He’ll get over it. He’s got the amulet now.”

They clasped wrists.

“Where’s Yeung?”

“Dead. Took an arrow through the chest.”

“Damn. And Beghara?”

“She’s fine. Real pissed at you, and said she’d rather drink alone.”

They let their horses rest and drink, then walked back toward the city slowly.

Yeung, Ng, Larb, Renweard, Bjørn... Feng! All gone.

And the Factor, of course.

Ridhi Chabra probably crippled.

Chóng owed him an explanation.

Whatever.

Chóng, and Ridhi, even TT, they could all wait.

For now, he wanted to get the sand out of his mouth.

END

Chapter 1

The cloud of birds erupted into the sky again at the sound of the explosion, and even the horses in the corral, who should have been used to it by now, whinnied their displeasure.

Jake waved his hand to disperse the smoke.

“Well, it’s got plenty of umph, but it’s still too damn loud, too damn smoky, and too damn inaccurate,” he said, pointing at the target about fifty meters distant. It had a few holes punched through its cloth cover, apparently at random. None were in the bullseye.

“Maybe you just can’t aim for shit?”

“Yeah, fuck you too, TT.”

Jake looked at rifle, clamped securely to a massive anvil for test firing.

“At least the barrel seems to be holding up better on this one.”

“It’s a considerable improvement over anything else they make here,” said TT. “The rifling and the Minié ball ammo is huge, and a little QC on the powder has helped. The spread’s down to maybe twenty centimeters or so; call it plus or minus ten.”

“Wish we could get reliable casings,” said Jake. “Until then this is a step up, but compared to what we’re used to...”

“Yeah, I’d rather have my Browning, but it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen any time soon, does it.”

“Well, might as well shoot off the next dozen rounds, and let’s see how the barrel holds up. Wish I knew more about metallurgy...”

TT laughed.

“Shit, I wish I knew more about lots of stuff... They already make black powder here, which is great, but I never knew much about how to actually draw brass, or press it. I’d be delighted with some centerfire cartridges, but even if we get all the kinks worked out the best we can hope for is rimfire, I think.”

“Yeah, which means no more loads for our pistols,” said Jake, spitting. “Which means even the best we can turn out here aren’t going to be much better than the competition.”

“We don’t need much,” corrected TT. “A little better will do just fine.”

“How is the latest batch?”

Jake turned toward the speaker.

The young man—still in his late teens, he suspected—sniffed the rifle’s barrel.

“Still lots of smoke, I see...”

“Better than it was, Mintran. And the accuracy has improved, too,” said TT.

Mintran of Nariel was their alchemist, on “loan” from King Kuranes to help them figure out how to make better firearms. Kuranes was running his own development program, of course under master alchemist ibn Sina, safely stashed away in Penglai, Chóng’s secure little realm.

Jake and TT had experience with 20^th-century firearms, and understood how they worked. The problem was finding ways to achieve the same results here, without a lot of the requisite knowledge or materials at hand.

Mintran was an inventor, and would probably be a famous one someday, but for now he was in charge of making saltpeter—which was why their base was out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by horses—and gunpowder.

Captain Long was out on one job now, with Serilarinna and Nadeen. They’d been tasked with scouting out the defenses of a merchant prince in Aphorat. Apparently he’d been impolite to some other merchant prince who took offense, and was planning to do something about it. Seri was the perfect choice for the mission, because not only was she quiet and deadly, but she also came from down there and was intimately familiar with the area, and the city itself.

Nadeen and Long were there primarily to boil her information down to detailed plans and maps on paper that could be delivered to the client.

Unless their target was a lot better at this game than they expected, Long and the others should be back in another week or two. And if they had all the necessary info down in black and white not only would it yield a heavy purse, it would also demonstrate their usefulness to Trius Bart, the Bashir of Pungar Vees—an immensely wealthy ruler Jake would love to get to know better.

Jake and TT finished firing off the next dozen rounds and walked down to the target to see the results more closely.

“Yeah, that’s a big improvement over what we had the last time,” said Jake. “You know, within five centimeters is probably enough for what we need. Firepower.”

“Assuming the shooters know how to aim and shoot, yeah,” agreed TT. “I still want real cartridges and clips.”

“Me, too, but it ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.”

Jake stood up and tore the cloth cover off the wooden target.

“I heard the bell for the Hour of the Sheep a little while ago... ’bout time for you to get your ass whupped again, isn’t it?”

TT punched him lightly in the arm.

“Beghara hasn’t whupped me in a couple months now, and in fact I whupped her ass last week. Once.”

“Once is a good start,” laughed Jake. “Until we get our guns, you’ve gotta be proficient with what you got, and that means swords and axes and bows and arrows.”

“And knives.”

“And knives,” granted Jake. “Very long knives.”

TT lifted a hand to wave goodbye and walked off toward the main building.

Jake watched him go for a second, and ran his eye over the growing base.

After getting the amulet to Ganzorig safely, he’d ridden back to Thace and picked up TT and the three boffins, and escorted them to Celephaïs. King Kuranes was delighted to support the three of them in their research, and of course they were delighted to have a patron.

Jake wanted to start his own company, and he and TT had spent a lot of time talking on the way. TT wanted to be part of it, and the survivors of Feng’s company were all in, too.

He wanted firearms, which meant gunpowder, and if he wanted to make his own gunpowder—which he did—he needed horses. And they wanted gun barrels and brass cartridges, which meant metalworking. He wanted primers, too, but neither he nor TT knew exactly how to make all the ingredients needed, so they’d have to stick with black powder and rimfire cartridges for now.

With a little help from Chóng and Juan Hernández, the new factor of Rinar, they’d moved into this deserted monastery in the grassy hills of Neol-Hungar, east of the River Mursk in Chaldaea. It was a little over a day’s ride to Rinar, and half that to Ilarnek.

He figured the place had been deserted for thirty or forty years, judging by the size of the trees that had grown up on the grounds in awkward places. All the woodwork was ruined, of course, but most of the stonework was untouched, including the building walls and the massive stone fortification. Built as it was atop a projecting cliff it was highly defensible, and the original builders had erected a wall around the cliff, and cut off all the projecting rock underneath, making it almost impossible to attack from over half the periphery. The remaining portion—opening out onto higher ground—was protected by a continuation of the same wall, some two meters thick and three high, pierced by two well-designed gates. It was an excellent wall, but not built to military specs, he guessed... there was a chemin de ronde—a walkway—running its entire length, allowing defenders to move easily along it, but it lacked any defensive towers. The gate was extremely strong, now that they’d repaired it, and the narrow postern also quite well built, but neither had flanking towers to help protect it.

Originally there had been defenses along the winding road up from the plains below, but they were in much worse shape, apparently due to enemy action, and would take an awful lot of work to restore. And people to defend properly.

Jake decided there wasn’t much point, since he didn’t have any enemies who were likely to come after him with an army.

---

Outline of Fort Campbell

Except maybe Thuba Mleen... hard to tell when he might do. Still, the Emperor of the Eastern Desert was a long ways from here, and unlikely to march an army all this way.

Inside, the two wells had to be dug out, but now they worked fine. The stream through the monastery ran through the main building, including the kitchen, then past vegetable fields, the old outhouse, and off the cliff.

Jake had closed the old outhouse and built a new one closer to the cliff, so human waste didn’t pass through the horse’s drinking troughs. And although nobody had especially wanted one, he built a nice bath, too, with wood-fired boiler, fed by a newly dug channel that bypassed the kitchen and the toilet, instead running through the smithery, the bath, the alchemist’s lab, and then into the stables. Quite by coincidence it also passed right next to his quarters, too.

Captain Long said the monastery had probably been to Nath-Horthath, but it was hard to tell because of the time that had passed, and the fact that all the religious items had been removed—or destroyed. There were signs that some buildings had been torched, but whether by accident or enemies was unclear.

In any case it was more than big enough for his company, which now included not only the eleven troopers under Captain Long’s command, but also the same number under himself, plus a half dozen under Horsemaster Turan Dratund, Alchemist Mintran and his three assistants, the blacksmith and his crew, and Ridhi Chabra running the whole operation with a dozen helpers.

A few buildings had been repurposed, such as using the former weaving building as the blacksmith and armory, and using the ancient looms for firewood. Another building of unknown purpose had been claimed by Mintran for his experiments with gunpowder. And he’d had a new building put up for the people working to keep everything running.

A group of workers from the nearest village, Cadharna, had helped get everything rebuilt, and he’d hired people to work in the kitchen and grounds. The villagers had been reticent to visit the monastery, mentioning old-wives tales of evil lurking, but a little gold and a visit to demonstrate how safe it was convinced them. He’d hired the Horsemaster, too, but let her choose her own assistants.

He was glad he’d brought Ridhi along... there had been too much nerve and muscle damage, and she’d always walk with a bad limp. It turned out she was, however, a very effective manager, and her voice could seemingly reach the farthest extents of the grounds without difficulty, keeping her staff on their toes and everything purring away smoothly.

Nobody had mentioned it, but he could tell they were pleasantly surprised to see that their new boss was willing to continue to look after them even if they got wounded. There wasn’t any such thing as a retirement pension in the Dreamlands, and anyone crippled or sick usually had a short and miserable life ahead of them.

The base was still not complete, but it had come a long way in the last year or so thanks to the generosity of Ganzorig, First Lord of Eudoxia, and King Kuranes, who continued to provide considerable financial and other support. And of course there were the relatively small sums they’d received for jobs since then.

He was spending more time on more important things, especially the firearms project with blacksmith Einar Ibrahimson and the gunpowder project with Mintran. Now that the monastery—he really had to start calling it the fort, not the monastery—was largely complete, he could start working more closely with Horsemaster Turan Dratund.

He didn’t know the Horsemaster yet very well. She’d been sent by Juan Hernández, Chóng’s new factor in Rinar, with a high recommendation. Apparently she had been apprenticed to Abrizzi, the famous Horsemaster of Thraa, and Chóng had convinced her to come out here in the middle of nowhere instead of working for some noble who’d pay her her weight in gold. He didn’t understand why she was called a horsemaster instead of a horse mistress, but tradition was tradition.

In addition to himself and Turan, the only other people here who knew her real goal were Nadeen and Captain Long.

If firearms became more common here in the Dreamlands, horses would gradually become less useful in battle. Even the heavy chargers of Thraa wouldn’t be of much use against rifles. But if they could be bred to be as intelligent as those super-secret raptors bred by Chóng and Kuranes... that would be a game-changer.

There was magic as well as genetics involved, and the King’s personal sorcerer, a little Chinese guy named Chuang, came out here every three weeks or so to do whatever it is he did to the horses. Didn’t seem to make any difference that he could see, but a reasonable understanding of genetics suggested that the results would start showing up in the next generation of horses.

That was something for the future, though, at least next spring, maybe farther. The gestation period was about a year; still time to go before the first results were born.

He didn’t think there was actually anything he could do to help Turan in her work, but he wanted to stay abreast of what was happening. And until firearms started to spread, he would be needing fast, sturdy mounts for his own troopers.

At the very least, he wanted to work with Turan and explain how genetics worked, at least as much as he could recall from his university days. As a horse breeder she already knew “genetics” in practical terms, but a scientific understanding of recessives and dominants and how it all worked would help. If necessary he could always arrange for Nolan Geiszler, the biologist working for the King now, to come out here and go into detail, but since they didn’t have any way to actually tweak genes scientifically—as opposed to whatever Chuang was using—there might not be too much point in it.

“Hey, Jake, you gotta minute?”

It was TT, calling from the smithery.

He walked over, and nodded to Einar Ibrahimson, the big blacksmith from Perdóndaris. He and TT were hunched over a workbench looking at something small.

“What’s up?”

“It’s the compass,” said TT. “Einar’s got some good magnets, and I’ve magnetized the needle well enough, but there’s still too much friction. Damn thing still sticks every so often, and we haven’t been able to figure out a good way of keeping it in position without stopping it from moving freely.”

“A problem with the pin?”

“Einar’s think so... he thinks we’ll need to make it of silver orichalc.”

“Silver orichalc?”

“Orichalc itself is quite soft,” explained Einar. “but it can be allowed with other metals to produce brassy orichalc, like you find in old coins, or silvery orichalc. You’d want silver orichalc because it’s very hard and heavy. It’s a bitch to work, though.”

“So it’s got silver in it?”

Einar laughed. “No, no, that’s just the color. We smiths keep the secret of how to make it to ourselves, I’m afraid. Golden orichalc, in fact, was so secret that now nobody knows how to make it anymore!”

“Harder than steel?”

“Harder than any steel I know. You tell me that alloyed steel can be extremely hard, but you don’t know what those alloys are made of. Iron and other elements, of course, but what elements? And what ratios?

“Armorers have been researching alloys for a long, long time already, and there’s no question in my mind that orichalc is the best material I can offer.”

“You can make this silver stuff, though?”

“Yes. It’d take some time and money to get the materials, though.”

“We don’t need much... a single pin is tiny, and even a grand dozen would fit in a spoon,” mused Jake. “How much time and money are we talking about?”

Einar thought for a minute.

“I should be able to get what I need in Rinar... say, two weeks and a dozen gold pieces?”

“Can’t send one of your apprentices?”

“Secret, remember? They’re still apprentices, not journeymen.”

“What’s the difference?” asked TT.

“A journeyman is a fully trained smith, an apprentice is still learning the trade.”

“OK,” said TT. “What’s next?”

“I’ve got to talk to Mintran about compass glass. Brilliant alchemist...”

“Wish we could just call him a chemist... alchemy really makes it sound like I’m living in a fantasy book.”

“You are living in a fantasy book, TT. ’bout time to get used to it.”

He turned back to Einar.

“Go ahead and make the arrangements, Einar. Take at least one apprentice with you, even if you have to leave him in a tavern somewhere while you take care of business. I want him to get known by the smiths in Rinar, and whoever else you think important.”

“Easy enough, and a good idea. I’ll take Ulzhalgas; he’s been with me a few times already and is just about ready to stand for journeyman.”

“You need an escort?”

“It’s a fair ride, and with gold. A couple guards would be welcome.”

“Captain Long’s on a mission, but I’ll have the sergeants pick two troopers for you.”

He’d appointed Beghara as his own sergeant, preferring to let her handle it than have to place Nadeen—who he lived with—directly under him. Eventually he wanted to give Beghara the team as captain, while he and Nadeen handled other things.

Captain Long had appointed Serilarinna—Seri— as his sergeant.

He’d ask them to pick two troopers, one each, to accompany the blacksmith. A trip to the big city should be reasonably safe, and would probably feel more like R&R than a real mission.

Jake and TT left the smithery, walking over to Mintran’s laboratory.

The building was pretty much the same as the smithery, but they had no idea what it had originally been used for, and had just erected a new wood structure on top of the existing stone foundations and walls. It was some distance from the main building, which was good, because Mintran’s research often resulted in a variety of foul smells and startling noises.

Mintran was about twenty, Jake figured. Looked like a rock star, with a blue pentagram tattooed onto his cheek, and long, ratty black hair. His hands were usually stained with unknown substances, and he had a bad acid burn across the top of one wrist.

Jake suspected he hadn’t bathed in months. Perhaps years.

Still, Chóng had recommended him. Apparently he’d been the senior apprentice under Chóng’s own alchemist, some Arab named ibn Sina, and was brilliant.

He also had a thing for birds, and would spend hours wandering the hills and grasslands around the fort just watching them.

“Alchemist Mintran?”

“In here!” came the muffled response, and Jake walked toward the sound to see Mintran’s rear end sticking out of a huge mud-covered oven.

He clattered about a little more, and then slowly backed out, closing the oven door and standing up.

“Sorry; I was just getting ready to fire up the oven.”

“Ceramics?”

“Heat-treating some new glass I’m working on.”

“Good. That’s exactly what we’re here to talk to you about,” said Jake.

“Careful with this,” he said, pulling out his Suunto and handing it to the alchemist. “The case can be metal, but the important thing is that the case is completely free of moisture, and airtight to keep it that way.”

“I’m pretty sure I can seal it, but let me think about how to make dry air,” said Mintran, handing the compass back after examining it closely. “Speaking of air, you wouldn’t happen to know how to make a vacuum, would you?”

“Um, you have mercury here, correct?”

“Quicksilver? Yes, of course.”

“You can evacuate something with a very simple pump, like this,” explained Jake, making a quick sketch based on his hazy recollections from chemistry class years ago. “Each drop of mercury removes a little more air until there’s none left.”

“Why doesn’t the air just flow back in?”

“Sorry, forgot the traps at both ends...” apologized Jake, extending the diagram to add the S-curved tubing. “The weight of the mercury itself prevents it.”

“You’re brilliant, Commander!”

“Oh, this isn’t mine, Alchemist,” laughed Jake. “It’s called a Sprengler pump, or Sprengel pump, or something like that... something I picked up a long, long time ago, still remember because it’s so elegant.”

“Let me build one immediately and see!”

Mintran was delighted... he had a new toy to keep him busy.

Given the way he immersed himself in his projects, Jake expected he’d have the pump finished in a day; maybe less if he already had appropriate tubing lying around.

And then if he could get him to work effectively with Einar, he might get some half-decent compasses out of it!

“Do you have enough merc—sorry, quicksilver?”

“I’ll need more to make this pump work,” Mintran admitted.

“Master Einar will be going to Rinar soon. Tell him what you need, and he’ll get it for you.”

“Good. I hate Rinar,” replied Mintran. “No interesting birds.”

“Today, Alchemist, if you could.”

“Of course, Commander, of course...” murmured Mintran, staring at the pump diagram.

Jake and TT left, walking back towards the main building.

“You’re pretty quiet these days, Jake... what’s up?”

“You got some time? There’re some things I need to talk to you about.”

“Sure, I’m free. Other than trying to make better gun barrels and practicing with that sword, I’m just drifting.”

“I’m thinking maybe we should give you something to do,” said Jake, leading the way to his quarters.

The building has probably once been the private quarters of the abbot, or whatever dignitary ran this monastery back in the day. Now it was where he and Nadeen lived, and where he did most of his deskwork. Which was increasing steadily, in spite of living in a fantasy world!

Nadeen was off with Long and Seri, and Jake figured (correctly) that TT didn’t really need a cup of hot tea.

They stretched out on the cushions.

Jake grabbed an orange from the basket on the low table and pushed the basket closer to the other man.

“Help yourself, TT,” he said, peeling it as he spoke. “I think you’ve pretty much come to grips with where you are, and the fact that you’re probably going to be here for a while. Like, forever.”

“Yup. Not too bad, actually, although cold beer would be nice.”

“Yeah, that’s on my list of things to do, too,” smiled Jake. “More to the point, though, we’re a mercenary company, and that usually means fighting a lot of melee battles. I can’t do sieges, and I can’t field a thousand-strong army in matching uniforms to try fancy tactics with.”

“Yeah...”

“We’ve only got two teams right now, a dozen troopers each, and there’s no way we’re gonna be taking on forces the size of Thuba Mleen’s, or even Ganzorig’s.”

“Yeah...”

“But you and I both came out of the military, and we were trained to do things differently. We don’t have the gear we used to have, but most of what we learned still applies.”

“So you want to...”

“Exactly. We should be doing small unit jobs, quiet and tactical, staying in the shadows and getting the job done with minimal force, noise, and exposure.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“And I’d like you to figure out how to train our fighters in how to do that. New tactics, new techniques, maybe new weapons. The whole thing.”

TT started to say something and thought better of it.

His mouth snapped shut, and he pursed his lips.

“I’m thinking you should start with a new team of a dozen troopers, and once you get the bugs worked out, put the two existing teams through the program. What do you think?”

TT scratched his cheekbone, thinking.

“Hmm... You know, these guys have been fighting in small units, especially close combat, for an awful long time. A lot of the tactics we know doesn’t apply here, because we don’t have transport, and comms, and rifles and all sorts of handy shit. I’m learning a lot from them, too.

“That said, I think the idea sounds pretty damn interesting,” he replied. “How much freedom do I have in running things?”

“It’s your show,” said Jake, “but I want to hear what you’re planning before you do it. I’m not going to shit on your parade in public, but I want us to be on the same page here, at least.”

“Works for me,” said TT. “I was going a little tired of doing nothing but bother the smith all day and let Beghara beat the shit out of me with her axe.”

“Good. Thanks, TT.” Jake popped the rest of the orange into his mouth. “Take a couple days and get back to me with your initial thoughts on what you want and need.”

“I could teach knife fighting and unarmed combat myself...” he mused. “Scouting, situational awareness, communications, tactics, though... those are the big ones.”

“Not so sure about unarmed combat, TT.”

TT raised his eyebrows.

“I had quite a reputation back in ’nam, you know.”

“You’ve never seen Nadeen or Seri in action, have you?”

“No, can’t say as I have... should I?”

“Oh, yes. I think you’ll need to have a few rounds with each of them, when they get back. Should be interesting.”

“Both women, I note. Any particular reason?”

“Not really... they’re the best we’ve got, man or woman.”

TT shrugged.

“Works for me, Jake. And, thanks for the offer.”

Jake twisted his neck and stretched.

“One more item off the list...”

“What else you got?”

“You know there are some other plans in motion that you’re not dialed in on yet, right?”

“Yeah. Not an issue, I guess.”

“Upgrading firearms is the biggest one: new gunpowder, new primers, rimfire cartridges, new barrels. I want to get some sort of refrigeration working. I want to get a distillery working.”

“Whisky, I hope?”

“No, just high-grade alcohol. I dunno know if it would be ethyl or methyl, but I want it for an antiseptic. Which is another thing we need: better understanding of medicine, germ theory, hygiene, surgery, the works... these people are still in the fucking Middle Ages when it comes to medicine.”

“I know emergency first aid but that’s about it...” admitted TT.

“Yeah, nothing I know anything about, either. But Geiszler does.”

“Nolan? Yeah, he’s got an extensive medical background. He’s still in Lhosk, right?”

“Yeah. I want to get him a few apprentices to absorb what he knows and get it down in writing. And try to keep him under control: Chóng says he’s always wandering about looking at the wildlife, and around here the wildlife can get pretty wild.”

“I’ve seen some pretty amazing tricks with amulets and charms and shit... healing sickness and injury right in front of my eyes.”

“Yeah, magic works, too. But it isn’t always available, and when the magician runs out of umph, that’s it,” said Jake. “I’m a belt and suspenders kinda guy, and I’d rather have a magician who knows germ theory and how to cut a bullet out without killing me.”

“OK, so firearms, new tactical stance, a distillery, medicine... what else you got for me?”

“What, that’s not enough?”

“Hey, I need something to occupy my spare time, you know.”

Jake smiled and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“There’s another project you really need to know about, but I just can’t. Yet.”

“Something for Kuranes?”

“Something for Kuranes, yeah,” confirmed Jake. “Chuang will be coming out here in a week, and I’ll see about getting you onboard.”

“Why does he come out here all the time? Every month or so.”

“He comes out here every three weeks. The natural estrus cycle of horses is twenty-one days, and he’s got the whole herd on a synchronous cycle somehow.”

“What’s he got to do with horses?”

“Sorry, TT. That’s still above your pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Not much to spend that pay on way the fuck out here, you know. That grubby little inn in Cadharna is pretty sad. And lonely.”

“You wanna go see the big city with Einar?”

“If you’d asked me an hour ago I would’ve jumped at the chance, but now I’ve got a nice little nut to crack with this small-unit tactics idea... Nah, I’ll save my money for now.”

“Let me know when the time comes, TT... you’re sorta off the books here, for now, and don’t have anyone to complain to but me.”

“No problem, Jake. This is a darn site more fun than wandering around tunnels getting chewed on my dinosaurs.”

TT stood.

“Thanks, Jake. We both got stuff to do.”

They shook, and TT left.

---

Detail map of the Mohagger Mountain region

Chapter 2

As expected, Chuang showed up a week later.

Unexpectedly, however, he came bearing gifts.

Once the airship was safely moored to the cliff wall, sails furled and suspended gangplank in place, Chuang descended to the wood deck behind the wall with several large cages. The deck was actually the roof of the stables and storehouses, and was almost empty except for a lookout box to provide shelter from wind and rain, and four scorpions—bolt throwers—ready to repel airborne attackers but yet unneeded.

Jake, notified by the watch that the ship was approaching, was of course there to meet him.

“Master Chuang, welcome. I trust it was a safe voyage?”

“Thank you, Commander. Yes, fast and quiet, and far more comfortable than wallowing around on the ocean.”

“What’s in the cages?”

“The King and I feel that we need to establish faster communications with you. I’ve brought you dragolets, nine for Celephaïs and a pair for Factor Hernández in Rinar.”

“Excellent! Communications is another element I’ve been trying to improve down here. The dragolets will be a big help.”

“When I leave in the morning—bit of a hurry this time—I’ll take the Factor his male so he can contact you, and also the three males I’ve brought with me.”

Dragolets were tiny flying lizards, no bigger than a chihuahua. If the male knew where his mate was, which was accomplished by merely bringing them to a particular spot, he would return there by himself when released anywhere. Like carrier pigeons, they would always fly “home” to their mates.

When Chuang left, he would leave behind three males who could carry messages directly back to their mates in Celephaïs, and three females to “call” their mates in turn from the same city. The last pair was so he and the Factor could contact each other quickly in an emergency, a male to fly to Rinar, and a female to call her mate from there as needed.

Apparently magical communication was possible, too, but you had to be a magician to do it, which left Jake out. Dragolets were pretty secure, although of course they could be killed or even intercepted en route. They didn’t spit fire, in spite of the name, but fangs and talons were usually effective against most natural enemies. And since they were also found in the wild, they were hard to identify even if spotted, as the message capsules tied to their legs were very small and hard to see from any distance.

“I’ll make sure they’re properly taken care of,” said Jake. “Now to the stables?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Chuang. “One more thing, though... the King would like you to come with me when I return to Celephaïs.”

“Uh... yeah, I guess that’s OK. Captain Long is on a mission currently, but should be back shortly... I’ll have to put Sergeant Beghara in charge.”

“Good, thank you,” said Chuang, walking toward the stone stairs at the end of the platform.

Jake walked with him.

“May I ask what for?”

“Of course, but I won’t answer other than to say we’re having a rather important meeting.”

“Very informative, thank you.”

“By the way, has Mistress Mochizuki been here yet?”

“Mochizuki? Why would she...? No, she hasn’t.”

Chuang smiled.

“You really need to improve your security, Commander. She’s been through your camp twice, or her people have. She had generally good things to say about you.”

“Nobody’s been in this camp!”

“She said you’d say that, and asked me to give you this,” he said, handing over a small pouch.

Jake pulled the drawstring open and looked inside. His class ring! He’d thought he’d lost it somewhere a few weeks ago, and here it was!

And the only way Chuang could have it is if Mochizuki—or someone—had snuck in and taken it. From his finger. While he was sleeping.

“Mind if I keep this?”

“Of course not, Captain. It belongs to you, after all,” smiled Chuang. “Now, the horses.”

The fort stables were located directly below the outlook they had just left, their ceilings supporting the floor of the outlook.

“Horsemaster Turan?”

There was a muffled response and after a minute she emerged from the back.

Turan Dratund was his Horsemaster, called by that name because tradition demanded it even though she was a woman. Dressed in the colorful, loosely wound Xuran robe, her skin was coal-black in the shade of the stables, eyes standing out boldly.

“Master Chuang! Welcome,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth tied to her sash.

She bowed to Chuang, and then to Jake as well.

“Commander.”

“I have little time to spare this time, I’m afraid,” said Chuang. “If we could get started...?”

“Of course, Master Chuang,” she said, and waved her hand toward the stalls. “The mares are all here, and a few of the stallions. Should I have someone call the rest of the herd back from pasture?”

“No, just the mares is fine,” said Chuang, following her.

He glanced back at Jake, who was still standing there.

“You’re welcome to come, if you like, but there’s not much to see, as you know.”

Jake had watched the first couple times, and felt no need to tag along.

Chuang just put his hands against each mare’s flank and mumbled something—spells, he presumed—under his breath for a while. If he hadn’t seen magic work numerous times already he’d have pegged the whole thing as a scam and kicked the charlatan out, but he no longer had any doubts about whether or not it was real.

He didn’t understand how it worked, but it unquestionably did.

“No, I have other work to attend to,” he replied. “You’ll join me for supper, I trust?”

“Of course, with pleasure,” replied Chuang absently, focused on the mare. “Horsemaster, this one’s already with foal...”

Jake left them to their work and returned to his office. He had to draft a letter to Factor Hernández and arrange to get one of Chóng’s distilleries for himself... and he suspected he’d have to agree not to sell any distilled spirits, or otherwise compete with Chóng in spite of the fact they were both working on the King’s plans.

That was fine, though... he wasn’t interested in competing.

That evening Chuang and the ship’s crew joined him for supper in the mess, eating together with the company’s troopers and many of the staff, although Jake’s own table was far enough away that they could talk freely, if quietly. Chuang suggested that it might be better if the Horsemaster did not join them. Captain Lang of the Simpleton, who usually joined them, declined as well, saying he would stay on the airship for a minor matter that demanded his attention. Ridhi, as usual, hovered in the background, ordering the staff around to be sure everything got done the way she wanted it.

It was by no means a formal affair, but it did require good organization and a stern hand to get the food prepared on time and in sufficient quantity, and distributed to hungry fighters. The company had more than a dozen new recruits who hadn’t learned the way things worked here yet, and every so often one of them would make the foolish assumption that the staff could be struck for better service.

Most of them had learned that Ridhi was not your average housekeeper, and one of them now had a quite impressive scar on his hand where she had pinned it to the table with his own dagger after a difference of opinion over how quickly he should be served.

Beghara and Danny were breaking them in and trying to teach them the way things were done here, but until they saw combat they were unknowns. Based on their reports of daily training, Jake expected two candidates for sure, maybe three or four, would be let go.

Karlu of Asagehon, the man with the scar on his hand, wasn’t one of them, though... once he’d realized that staff and slave were different, and Ridhi Chabra was perfectly willing to cut him to slices to prove it, he’d settled down quite nicely. He never had any issues with his sergeant, Beghara, perhaps because she outweighed him and wielded a massive double-sided axe.

Local venison they’d hunted themselves, home-grown vegetables, potatoes and ale from Cadharna... not gourmet, but fresh and good.

“Is all well with the horses?” he asked.

Chuang nodded.

“So far, so good. Four are pregnant, and more likely this round. We’ll have to wait half a year to begin to see if we’ve been successful or not, though.”

“The horses are all acting quite normal,” added the Horsemaster. “The stallions are as eager as ever to help us, and the mares to be serviced.”

“Good,” nodded Jake. “Does this have anything to do with why the King wants to see me?”

“Yes and no,” smiled Chuang, his infamous response.

“Thanks, very enlightening.”

“How fast does that ship of yours fly?” asked TT.

“The Simpleton is the King’s ship, of course, but since it is mostly magical in nature it can fly quite fast, and even with no wind.”

“But it has sails!”

“Well, of course it has sails. It’s a sailing ship, after all,” laughed Chuang. “When the wind is right it only makes sense to hoist the sails and let the wind blow us even faster.”

“And when the wind is against you?” asked Jake.

“We lower the sails and rely on the ship itself to get us through.”

“But what drives it?”

“Ah, that’s magic, I’m afraid, and not something you can bottle up for yourself. I understand how engines work, and the Simpleton has none. Or fuel, for that matter.”

“No fuel!? No engines!? But it still flies!”

“Oh, yes, and very well. One of the many advantages of living in a world where magic works.”

“Did the King build it?”

“So to speak... King Kuranes is a Dreamer, Commander, as is Master Richard. He thought it would be useful, and dreamt it.”

“He dreamt it!?” cried TT. “He what!?”

“Relax, TT,” soothed Jake. “We’ve been over this. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess... but damn, no engine, no fuel, and it fucking flies!”

Jake turned back to Chuang. “Why Simpleton?”

“I don’t really know. As you might expect, he said the name came to him in a dream.”

“Does it ever stop flying? Settle down to the ground? Or run out of magic?”

“Not yet,” said Chuang. “The King says it won’t as long as he’s alive.”

“How old is he?”

“Here, he’s old as Celephaïs, which is at least thousands of years. But he was born in England in the 18^th century, I believe.”

“So which is it?” demanded TT.

“Does it have to be one or the other? Or anything, for that matter?” countered Chuang quietly.

TT slammed his dagger into a chunk of venison with unnecessary force, shattering the plate.

“Oh, fuck me,” he cursed in disgust, staring at it in disbelief.

Ridhi Chabra miraculously appeared behind him.

“You have a problem, Sergeant?”

“No, ma’am! I mean Captain Ridhi!” TT sat up straight. He knew better than to mess with her.

“If you have a problem, Sergeant, I suggest you take it outside with you,” she continued. “Now.”

“Ah, yes ma’am. My apologies!”

“Ridhi, if you could grant me a favor this time, I’d appreciate it,” said Jake.

She glared at him, dark eyebrows almost meeting in the center, then she turned and stalked away with a cold “As you wish” thrown back over her shoulder.

“Maybe tone it down a bit, TT?” asked Jake mildly. “You really don’t want to get Ridhi angry at you, believe me...”

“Yeah, sorry... it’s all just so... Sorry, never mind,” muttered TT.

“I wonder if Master TiTi would like to join us and see Celephaïs,” said Chuang. “You could meet your fellows once again, and the King.”

“I have no objections,” said Jake. “TT is working on something for me right now, but no reason why it can’t wait a week or to.”

“Your firearms research?”

“Well, yes, that too,” admitted Jake, “but I’ve asked him to look into how to leverage our strengths. You know we are both military men, but our style of fighting is quite different from what’s common here.”

“You referred to yourself as ‘special forces’ once, I believe.”

“Yes. They are called special exactly because they do things that the usual army or navy does not. And I think we could amplify our power significantly by adopting some of their ideas to my company. TT has a similar background, but different enough that he brings additional skills and knowledge.”

“How is what you propose different than what we already have?

“Stealth. Small-unit operations. Traps. Assassination. But more than that, a whole new mindset... the goal is not to win a fight, but to win without having to fight at all.”

Chuang set his mug of ale down and looked at Jake, then TT.

“Master TiTi, I think you shall come with us. You must speak with Mistress Mochizuki.”

“I’d like to have a few words with her myself,” said Jake.

“Who’s she?”

Jake held up his hand.

“See this ring? Mochizuki’s ninja stole it off my finger, while I was sleeping. Chuang just gave it back. Mochizuki runs the King’s spy corps.”

“Ninja? Spies? This is a pretty modern fantasy world!”

“What, you never read The Three Musketeers when you were a kid?”

Now it was Chuang’s turn to look puzzled. “The Three Musketeers?”

“Never mind, just a book back where I came from. Doesn’t really matter.”

Chuang nodded.

“In any case, it sounds to me like your ‘special forces’ have quite a bit in common with her Kingfishers...”

“Is that what they’re called?” asked Jake. “Never heard the name before.”

“It’s not everyday conversation, but it’s hardly a secret. What they do is, though, and I suspect the two of you might have quite a bit to talk about,” said Chuang. “Strange that she never mentioned this to me.”

“She hasn’t had a chance,” said Jake. “TT and I were just talking about it today.”

“Be that as it may,” continued Chuang. “I would very much like Master TiTi to accompany us back to Celephaïs on the morrow.”

“Certainly,” said Jake. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“Are my guys in Celephaïs now?” asked TT. “Be good to see the gang again.”

“I believe Master Johnny and Master Watney are, but Master Geiszler is in Lhosk.”

“Lhosk is across the Celephaïs Strait; quite a distance. Maybe next time.”

“Too bad, but it’ll be good to see Johnny and Mack again anyway.”

“We’ll be leaving with first light,” said Chuang.

“I travel light. Just let me grab my pack and I’m ready to go,” said TT.

Chuang turned back to Jake.

“Commander Jake, I would like to send a message to Celephaïs immediately. You can bring a replacement dragolet back later when you return here.”

“Of course. Now?”

“Yes, please. The sooner the better.”

When Chuang and Jake stood to leave, TT and the Horsemaster stood as well. Their plates were empty, with the single exception of TT’s shattered leftovers.

“I guess this meeting’s over,” said TT. “See you tomorrow.”

Horsemaster Dratund nodded to Jake and Chuang and left, back to the stables.

The dragolets were just in the stables for now, but Jake realized he’d have to build a proper coop for them, and probably hire someone who knew how to keep them healthy. Turan could take care of them for a week or two until then.

He made a mental note to arrange to find someone when Einar visited Rinar later. Might have to send Ridhi, he realized... she’d love the chance to visit the big city again, and she’d proven excellent at picking people.

Turan was feeding the dragolets when they got there. They were carnivores, eating insects, lizards, even small birds and mammals, but tonight they were enjoying raw venison gobbets.

“I’ll have to ride down to the village tomorrow and buy some mice,” she said to Jake. “The children will be delighted to be paid to catch them, and the villagers will be delighted to get rid of them. Where do you plan to keep them?”

“I haven’t had a chance to even think about it yet,” said Jake. “Probably need a new building, and somebody to look after them... you have enough to keep you busy already, I think.”

“They’re cute, but I really prefer horses,” she said. “No problem for now, though.”

“We need one of the males with the blue anklets,” said Chuang. “I need to send a message to Celephaïs at once.”

“That’s easy enough,” she replied, opening a cage and reaching in to pick up one of the blue-banded dragolets. “They’re well-trained and haven’t bitten me yet!”

Chuang pulled paper and quill from his bag and quickly jotted down a note, blotted it, and rolled it up small enough to fit into one of the message tubes.

He carefully tied the leather message tube to the dragolet’s leg, checked to be it was secure, and lofted the beast into the air.

It was hard to see clearly in the evening light, but it circled twice before giving a long, drawn-out honk and flying off toward the northwest. Toward Celephaïs.

“It’ll get there before we do,” said Chuang as they walked back, “and that will give time for Mochizuki to decide what to do.”

“What do you expect her to do?”

“Talk to TT, certainly. Beyond that... I have no idea. She functions is a very different world than I.”

“You sound a little frightened of her, Chuang.”

“No, not frightened, but certainly respectful of her capabilities, shall we say. I’m glad we’re working with her and not against her.”

“Well, we shall find out soon enough, Master Chuang. If you’ll forgive me, I have a number of things to take care of before we leave.”

“Of course. On the morrow, then.”

Chapter 3

He hadn’t slept much, and was feeling downright tired as dawn rolled around. Much of the night had been spent meeting with various people and making sure everything would be alright while he was gone.

It was too bad Captain Long and Nadeen were gone, but Beghara and Ridhi should be able to keep everything under control for a week or two.

He didn’t have any bag to pack, but as always he brought his Glock and his longsword with him. He hated to leave his Suunto behind, but he was unlikely to need it, and Mintran or Einar might want to see it while he was gone. He left it with Beghara, with strict instructions to make sure he got it back in one piece.

As the sun began to break above the hilly plains stretching off to the east, they gathered at the Simpleton. Captain Lang and the crew were already aboard, checking the rigging and preparing for departure.

The three dragolet males they were taking with them back to Celephaïs were unhappy to leave their mates, honking quietly to themselves.

The ship itself was shaped differently than one designed for the sea... while the deck, masts, and rigging were all quite normal, although it was unusually broad in the beam, the hull below the deck was vastly different. Instead of tapering to the keel running the length of the ship, the hull expanded like a shoe, widest at the flat bottom. There was even a hatch in the bottom, called the “solehole.”

It was floating just off the cliff wall, connected to the ramparts by a flexible gangplank, boards roped together like a suspension bridge.

“Come aboard, Master Chuang,” called Captain Lang. “We’re ready to depart as soon as you’re all set.”

Chuang held out him arm, inviting Jake and TT aboard.

As soon as they were across the gangplank safely, the fort troops unhitched the hawsers, tossing the loose ends off the cliff. They were gradually reeled in and stowed by the ship’s crew as it began to rise, slowly picking up speed and turning toward the southwest.

The sails were still furled, Jake noticed.

“So what’s driving this thing?” asked TT, eyes running over every inch of the ship. “No sails, there was nothing on the hull that I saw, no props anywhere...”

“Remember back in basic when you saw a sniper pop up out of the bush two meters from your nose?”

“...Yeah... scared the shit out of me.”

“It was magic, TT, just like this. Eventually you stop worrying about stuff like that, because it keeps happening and it’ll wear you out if you let it.”

TT looked unconvinced.

“So what’s downstairs?”

The captain answered his question.

“Master TiTi, Commander Jake, welcome aboard. I’m Captain Lang, and this is the fine airship Simpleton. We need to make a brief stop in Rinar to give that dragolet to the Factor, and then we’re off to a rendezvous with the King.”

“To Celephaïs?”

“Well, no, not actually. That’s the story we’re telling everyone, just in case the wrong people are listening, but we’re actually going to meet the King at Serannian. It’s a bit closer, in fact.”

He turned to TT.

“To answer your question, the area below deck holds cabins, the galley, mess, and storerooms. And a toilet, of course. I’ll be happy to give you a tour if you like, after we leave Rinar.”

“Thank you; we look forward to it,” said Jake, cutting off TT’s unspoken questions. “Where is Serannian?”

This time it was Chuang who answered: “It varies with the King’s whim, Commander Jake. Serannian is a city that floats in the clouds.”

“Oh, great... now we’ve got a whole flying city.”

“TT, cool it,” soothed Jake. “I think I’ve heard it mentioned but never really paid much attention to it. Wherever it is, it must be an amazing sight...”

“It is quite beautiful,” said Captain Lang. “It is certainly not as large as Celephaïs, or even Rinar, for that matter, with soaring minarets of pink marble, and mossy slopes dotted with statues of the gods and myths. I’d say it is closer to a palace than a city, but it’s really created its own legendary status.”

“How does it stay aloft?”

Chuang shrugged. “The same way the Simpleton does, of course. It’s worked for centuries thus far, and there’s no reason to believe it might stop working.”

“Do you know why it works?”

“Of course—it works because the King believes that it does.”

Jake’s mouth opened, froze, closed again.

“That... doesn’t make sense...” he said quietly.

“Many things don’t,” agreed Chuang.

Their conversation was interrupted by a whistle from the bow.

“Party below!” came the call.

Jake looked over the railing. The ship was still low enough to tell who it was: Captain Long, Nadeen, and Seri. They were on the way back to the fort.

They waved at each other, but there was really no need to stop... Beghara would fill them in when they got there. Nadeen looked—they all looked—uninjured, relieving Jake of unvoiced worry.

They reached Rinar in only a few hours, thanks to a tailwind that carried them most of the way. Except when they needed to change course the ship was astonishingly stable. Captain Lang assured them that it could get very bouncy when they needed to cross a weather front, although they had never suffered damage from a lightning strike yet.

The Simpleton was equipped with a large lodestone, and Jake noticed immediately how the mounting interfered with smooth rotation, and its relatively poor precision and response. He would have to get Einar to make a larger compass to replace it with.

When they reached Rinar, Captain Lang moored to one of the taller towers on the city wall, and had one of his crew take the caged dragolet to the factor after they explained to the city guard why they had come. Once they learned this was the King’s airship, everything became much easier.

A small crowd of cityfolk gathered, gawking at the airship, but began to drift away after it became apparent that nothing was happening.

The man returned in about half an hour, carrying a sealed envelope addressed to the King, which Chuang took and placed in his wallet, unopened.

They departed Rinar immediately, heading for Serannian.

Jake checked his map and compass every so often to try to keep track of their course, but since they flew over the ocean and he didn’t know their speed, it was almost impossible.

The airship continued its journey all that day, through the night, and the rest of the following day.

Once he saw islands in the distance east of them, and guessed they must be either Mtal or Nariel, which would mean they were still headed in the general direction of Celephaïs.

On the afternoon of the second day, as the sun touched the western horizon and dyed the clouds a spectacular orange, the bow lookout whistled once more.

Jake looked forward to see a black blob floating in the distance. Below them was featureless ocean. That must be Serannian, he figured, and checked his map once again... it must be in the middle of the ocean somewhere, away from islands and trade routes, and therefore unlikely to be spotted by anyone.

He didn’t know if he felt better to know the King was being cautious, or worse because the King thought he needed to be.

Serannian grew larger ahead of them, gradually emerging from the orange brilliance of the sunset to reveal itself as a veritable paradise. As Captain Lang had explained briefly, it was more a floating park with a small palace in it, than a whole city, but it was breathtakingly beautiful nonetheless.

Everything seemed to have been constructed from pink marble, with accents of onyx and gray granite, and the architecture itself was Grecian, as far as he could tell. Marble pavilions, carven columns supporting shining statues of gold, or silver, or unknown metals, dotting gentle hills covered with lush green grass and wildflowers.

He half expected to see nymphs and satyrs dancing, and suddenly realized that it wouldn’t be unlikely after all.

The airship slowed, drifting to dock at a granite wharf running along one edge of the island.

A small group of guards was waiting to greet them, led by a stunningly beautiful woman with twin swords strapped to her back, and a tiny marmoset on her shoulder.

Once the gangplank was in place, she greeted the group as they stepped off the Simpleton to “solid” earth.

“Master Chuang, welcome to Serannian.”

“Thank you, Commander,” he responded, then turned to Jake.

“Commander Jake, I believe you’ve already met Commander Britomartis of the King’s Guard? Commander, this is Master TiTi.”

She bowed. “Britomartis of Celephaïs. I have heard much about you.”

Jake elbowed TT, who quickly gave a half-bow and returned the greeting, “TT of, uh... Preston, Oklahoma.”

“Preston... a place I am yet unfamiliar with,” she said. “But you are not from the Dreamlands, are you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m not.”

“Nor am I,” she replied, somewhat sadly. “Nor, I suspect, from your realm either.”

Jake broke in to explain that she was a character from an old English book. As TT’s eyebrows rose, he hurriedly added he’d explain more later, but for now just “Deal with it.”

TT did.

Britomartis led them from the wharf toward the center of the island, uphill. As they walked, Jake noticed a second airship—much smaller and far more utilitarian—docked a bit farther away.

“There is a second airship, I see... I thought there was only one...”

“No, there are a number of airships in the Dreamlands.”

“Who owns that one?”

She smiled without answering.

Chuang did instead: “You shall meet her shortly, I think.”

“Her... so I suppose you mean Mistress Mochizuki, then.”

Britomartis laughed. “Perhaps you are as good as she thinks you are after all!”

Just over the crest of a small hill was a pair of sculpted satyrs flanking the road, one with a panpipe and the other a wineskin. Ahead of them was a low, open pavilion with columns all around.

The floor was covered with carpets, and in the center was a long, low table surrounded by cushions.

He only recognized one of the people lounging there: Chóng, the head of the sprawling trading empire that he nominally worked for.

Britomartis stopped the party, and gestured one of her guards to step closer.

“Brand, please guide Master TiTi to the practice yard and provide weapons training until called for.”

“Yes, Commander,” he replied crisply, and turned to TT. “This way, Master TiTi.”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot join us just yet, Master TiTi. I think you will find Brand more than capable as an opponent, and an instructor.”

TT looked at Jake, who nodded.

“Sorry, guy. Rank.”

“OK, I’ll whup this guy for a while and see you later.”

“Um, yeah. That might take a little work, TT... He’s a King’s Guard.”

“Fine with me! I’ve never whupped a King’s Guard before!”

The two of them left the party, Brand leading.

Chuang led Jake in the pavilion, bowing.

“My King, I bring Commander Jake.”

The man wearing a simple gold circlet on his head nodded at us.

“Enter. I am Kuranes, High King of the Dreamlands. Come, sit.”

He gestured at them to take places at the table, which had bowls of fruit, ewers of drinks, and crystalline goblets for each of them.

Jake bowed to the King, naming himself “Jake of Penglai” before sitting.

Sitting around the table with the King were Chóng, Mistress Mochizuki of Shinano (the King’s spymaster), Commander Britomartis, Master Carter of Boston, some monk named Shingan Oshō, Physician ibn Sina, and an Ibizim woman named Matriarch Geriel. There were also about a dozen people sitting or standing at a distance from the central table, presumably various aides, but they were never introduced.

Once that was done, the King took command.

“Please, eat, drink as you wish. If you desire anything they will bring it immediately.”

He took a sip from his goblet, something ruby red, before continuing.

“Commander Jake, Chuang has kept us informed of your various plans. Your ideas on advancing medical knowledge in particular are highly welcome, and needed. You have also been trying to bring a range of new technologies and knowledge from your own realm to the Dreamlands, and this is what we must discuss.”

“May I talk freely here, King Kuranes?”

“Yes, please.”

“The horse project is largely out of my hands at this time, and until it produces enough horses for me to use in combat will remain so. Master Chuang has told me it will be necessary to concentrate on building up sufficient breeding stock for some time.

“In the meantime, I have been attempting to improve the company’s capabilities now, while Mnar and the Eastern Desert are still at peace.”

“Could you briefly explain?”

“Of course.”

Jake thought for a moment.

“We require force to achieve our goals, which are usually the destruction of an enemy, or preventing an enemy from achieving some objective. One of my goals is to equip my company with better weapons, specifically, firearms, to increase the amount of force they can apply.”

“And your firearms will be superior to the muskets available now.”

“Yes. They will offer better accuracy and faster loading, among other improvements.”

“I see. Please continue.”

“In addition to firearms, we need cannons and grenades,” continued Jake. “I don’t really understand why you don’t already have them, to be honest...”

“They have been, um, discouraged, for many years,” said Mochizuki.

“Yes, we can get into that later,” broke in Kuranes. “Please continue, Commander.”

“I see. Well, horses. Horses will provide improved mobility, and depending how the project advances, may lead to significant changes in tactics.

“In addition to these obvious changes, though, we also require fundamental improvements to the underlying system. Specifically, we must develop better logistics, provide better medical care for injured troopers, and better support for our people after they have been mustered out for age or injury. This is why I intend to ask Factor Chóng for a distillery, to produce alcohol for use in surgery, among other things.

“We must provide improved intelligence, such as detailed maps, more accurate compasses, and some form of communications.

“Improved intelligence and communications would benefit from flight. I hadn’t believed it reasonable, but as there are at least two airships moored to this flying island presently, perhaps it could be. Control of the air would magnify our strength enormously.

“Troopers must be trained in different ways. Obviously a variety of tactical designs have developed here, but most of them apply to relatively large units, while small-unit actions tend to be melees. For smaller units, TT and I believe that improvements in tactics and stealth will significantly improve effectiveness, while for larger units hierarchical control is essential even with firearms.

“We require better optics, not only for telescopes, but also for eyeglasses to help those with poor vision see, and for microscopes to assist in medicine.

“For larger units, food production and storage must be improved, so that larger units can be supported in the field without the need for foraging.

“Manufacturing must be improved to eliminate the need for highly skilled craftsmen while producing weapons and other implements of sufficient quality and quantity.

“The construction and operation of medical and educational facilities throughout the region will contribute to improved health and well-being for all, and lead to a higher standard for recruits.

“If some way can be found to control Reed, utilization of electric power would provide significant improvements in every facet of the military and society, but require a massive investment of capital and labor into developing the requisite technologies and infrastructure.

“The list goes on and on, and each of these major points incorporates a number of finer issues to be addressed. All in all, they represent a massive transformation of local society.”

The group fell silent, digesting his comments.

“Factor Chóng, would you describe what happened in Penglai?”

“You and Commander Britomartis saw it with me, King Kuranes, as did Commander Jake, but the rest of you have not. Except perhaps Mistress Mochizuki?”

There was a short round of laughter, and Mochizuki merely smiled.

“Enormous machines were brought to dig huge pits, larger than this building. Often they used explosives to blast out pits or split rock. The machines were noisy, smelly, and left puddles of toxic oil everywhere.

“They were, however, extremely effective at mining the ore they desired.

“The machines were later destroyed by Reed, but the mine continued operation for some time using manual laborers, until Reed attacked once again, obliterating it completely. It remains closed presently.”

“Oil?” asked the Matriarch.

“Yes, thick, black oil that killed the grass where it fell, and the fish in the nearby river when it spilled that far.”

“There are lakes of black oil under the desert,” she mused. “The same, I wonder...”

Britomartis spoke up next.

“Commander Jake, you mentioned firearms offering better accuracy and faster loading. In other words, they will be far more deadly than they are now.”

“Yes. Swords and bows will become useless.”

“And more people will die.”

“Unquestionably.”

“Including our own people, as knowledge of how to make these new firearms spreads.”

“Almost certainly. Which is why we must improve unit tactics, operational control, and strategy simultaneously.”

“So, an arms race,” said Mochizuki. “Just like your realm.”

“Well, yes...”

“Commander Jake,” said the King slowly, “you asked why there are no cannon in the Dreamlands.”

“Yes. Since there are a few muskets I was surprised that I’ve never seen a cannon, on land or on a ship. I’d think the cannon would be invented before the musket.”

“It was. We destroyed them and have since made sure that all efforts to create cannons or more advanced firearms end poorly. We, how shall I put it, actively discourage research into the field.”

“I... see...” said Jake, digesting the implications.

“Physician ibn Sina?” invited the King, dropping the subject.

The thin, elderly Arab spoke slowly but clearly.

“Better medicine and medical knowledge will help us all. Too many die in infancy, or of disease or injury in their prime, or suffer the infirmities of age, and it is one of the sacred responsibilities of the Council to improve the lot of the people. My apprentices have made major strides in understanding the body and sickness, but surely there is much more we must know.

“I am rather less enamored of advances in firearms, although death by sword is much the same as death by musket to the one dying.”

“Randolph?” asked the King, turning to the man who’d introduced himself as Carter of Boston. Jake wondered which world he’d come from, his or TT’s. Or some different one entirely?

Carter sighed audibly.

“We knew it would come to this, my friend, one day.

“Medicine, education, agriculture, manufacturing... all of these would improve the lot of the people, vastly expanding their abilities and their future possibilities. But at the same time we would risk the Dreamlands following the same path as Wakeworld, suffocating in smoke and pollution, the trees and animals withering and dying, people experiencing the same poverty as always but in a land of concrete and asphalt swept by clouds of noxious gas, or acid rain.

“Is there no path to accepting the good without this evil?”

“I know of none,” said the King heavily. “On the one hand it would uplift all, and on the other it would threaten every aspect of the Dreamlands.”

Jake began to understand just what this meeting was all about.

“You’re debating whether or not to modernize the Dreamlands!”

“Yes. Unlike the way things developed in your realm, uncontrolled and uncontrollable, we have the opportunity to control the process here, to direct it and guide it to minimize the death and horror your world experienced.”

“But everything comes with a cost,” complained TT. “Everything can be used as a weapon.”

The old Arab physician, ibn Sina, spoke up again. “Jake, you have given us a considerable list of technologies to digest... are you, a military man, familiar with all these?”

“No, sir. I have seen them and understand how they work, but I do not know how to make most of them in detail. I would have to obtain detailed information, and possibly tools and materials, from my own realm.”

“That could be quite difficult, and perilous,” mused the King.

“Yes, King Kuranes,” agreed Jake.

“Would books be sufficient, or would it be necessary to bring artificers as well?” asked Mochizuki. “It would be vastly simpler to obtain books.”

“It should be possible with just books, yes, but would certainly take much longer. We would be developing multiple technologies simultaneously, and they are all interdependent, making the process far more complicated. An engineer—excuse me, an artificer—would simplify the process by being able to develop key fundamental technologies first, and build upon them in a more efficient order.

“Merely identifying and gathering all the necessary information would be quite an undertaking by itself.”

He turned to Carter.

“I believe I come from the most technical earth... Master Carter, I got the feeling from your comments just now that there is no space travel or atomic energy, for example, in your realm.”

“Space travel!? My goodness, surely not!”

“There is in mine, and probably in TT’s as well. Truly, my realm is facing all the problems that Master Carter has just described, and more. But at the same time, new technologies have emerged, and a new paradigm calling for zero waste, recycling, solar power, and a balanced relationship between the natural and human realms.

“This movement is still young, but it is increasingly recognized as crucial to humanity, and gaining momentum.”

“And you are familiar with these technologies?”

“No. I know far too little about any of the technologies I hope to bring to life, and must rely on the expertise of people such as Physician ibn Sina and Alchemist Mintran, coupled with my memories of what is possible, to find ways of realizing them.”

“So more unknown technologies from other realms, then,” said Chuang, rather sharply.

“There are such experts in my realm,” answered Jake. “They could help you avoid many of the problems that come with these technologies, perhaps all of them, because you would be able to jump over intermediate steps directly to clean sustainable solutions.”

“Hmm. So are you suggesting kidnapping?”

“I, no! I didn’t mean...”

Jake fell silent.

“Mistress?” asked the King, looking at Mochizuki.

“Quite possible, although it would be complicated. It’s unclear how we might locate such a person, and if they would assist us after being brought here, willing or not. Assuming we could convince them that we exist in the first place, however, it should be possible to enter into a contract for specific services, without any need for unpleasantries.”

“It is possible,” said Shingan Oshō.

“I may be able to help in that regard,” said Chóng. “The mine is closed for now, but we are still in communication with Jake’s world. His former employers in fact.”

“Haven’t they abandoned Penglai?”

“They have continued to deal with me in spite of Reed’s destruction, but the mining operation is closed for now. They seem to be having difficulty abandoning the potential profits that Penglai—and no doubt the Dreamlands—offer, and so we continue our discussions. But we cannot afford the risk of a hasty decision!”

“Agreed,” said Mochizuki. “Having seen their weapons in action, even the possibility of a war, difficult as it would be across the realms, fills me with dread.”

“But a portal from that realm, or from any of the infinite realms, could be discovered or created at any time, spilling these technologies and weapons into the Dreamlands,” added Britomartis, scratching her little marmoset’s chest. “What then of our caution?”

“But a social upheaval of the scope Commander Jake describes would, for the short term at least, destroy the social systems supporting great dozens of our people!” burst out the Matriarch. “Not only the Ibizim, but people of all the races of Dreamlands!”

“Assuming we went ahead with this plan, hiring experts from your realm,” said ibn Sina, “how many artificers might we need? And what sort of timescales are we speaking of?”

“I really can’t say. It took centuries in my realm, of course, but the majority of the progress has occurred in the last hundred years. New technologies were built on older ones, and did not have to be built from scratch every time; here, most of what we would need would have to be constructed from the most basic raw materials.

“Raw materials must be processed a variety of ways before they can be utilized to drive these technologies, and as new technologies become possible they may, in turn, revolutionize the techniques used to mine or process those raw materials, while serving in turn as a stepping stone to yet more technologies.

“It is a familiar process to you all, I think. Milling wheat with a stone, then using cattle to drive the millstone around a pillar, then replacing the cow with a waterwheel, which can in turn be used to lift water to irrigate fields to produce more wheat. The Dreamlands have already been developing technologies in the same way, along much the same path as my realm took.”

“But we have magic,” mused Chuang.

“And I do not understand how magic works. How it can work,” complained Jake. “I can’t deny that it is effective, but I cannot predict how it might affect any of these programs. Your breeding program for the horses, for example... I think I understand what you are doing, Master Chuang, but I don’t understand how you do it, or how well it works, or even how you know what to do in the first place!”

Chuang laughed.

“I cannot go into details, but suffice to say that Factor Chóng and I have some experience in this pursuit already, albeit with a different animal entirely. It appears that much of our practical knowledge applies to horses as well.”

“Perhaps we can return to this discussion of magic at a later time,” said the King, “and—”

There was a clatter and thud outside, and immediately shouts from guards. Britomartis leapt to her feet, marmoset chattering in excitement on her shoulder, and raced toward the sound.

“Halt!” came a shout from outside the pavilion as somebody burst from the surrounding bushes, racing away with a guard close after.

“He’s been stabbed!” came a shout.

“Physician ibn Sina! Quickly!” called Britomartis, then “Summon everyone. You four, guard the King. The rest of you, with me!”

As a group everyone surged outside.

Collapsed on the stone stairs was TT, tunic stained crimson on one side.

The physician, ibn Sina, pulled open his tunic to examine the wound, then turned and called “Master Chuang!”

Jake ran up to him, supporting his head.

“What the hell, TT?”

“Brand... the guard... I got a piece of him, tho...”

Chuang leaned over TT, running his hands over the wound, murmured “Right through his abdomen, deep... intestines, probably other organs. He will die, Physician, unless... My King! Master Carter! Only you can help him now!”

King Kuranes and Randolph Carter looked at each other, nodded, and sat down next to TT, Kuranes cross-legged, Carter just sitting on the stairs, legs outstretched. Chuang joined them, kneeling. They closed their eyes and nothing happened... except that the blood began to clot, the wound to close, and TT’s breathing steady.

Jake couldn’t guess how much time passed, but suddenly the King opened his eyes.

“I can do no more.”

Carter slumped down, panting. Chuang, impenetrable as ever, merely continued to kneel, silent.

The wound was healing, not healed but clearly well along. TT was still unconscious, but his pulse was strong, and he was breathing easily.

“How did you...?”

“It’s magic, Commander Jake, just magic,” answered the King. “And it took the three of us to heal him even this much.”

“He will probably make a full recovery,” said Carter, “but his mind and body are still in shock. He will need care for a few weeks at least.”

Britomartis returned.

“My King,” she said. “We have had a spy in our midst.”

“Where is he?”

“It killed the two guards at the wharf, and fled in Mistress Mochizuki’s airship.”

“It?”

“And the blood spilled was black, my King.”

“Black!” spit Mochizuki. “A Flayed One!”

“Yes, Mistress. The Stain of Nyogtha. It must have listened to most of the meeting, I’m afraid. And it would have heard more except for Master TiTi, who dragged himself this far to alert us.”

“We cannot catch that airship, I’m afraid,” said the King. “It is far faster.”

“Thuba Mleen?” asked the Matriarch.

“Almost certainly,” nodded Mochizuki. “He knows we fight against him. But how did he know about this meeting? And to think that he has created a Flayed One...”

“Have you found Brand’s body?”

“The guards are searching now, but I suspect it killed Brand before you even left Celephaïs,” said Britomartis. “and there’s probably not much left of Brand anyway... the Flayed Ones eat their victims, or at least most of them.

“In any case... I have already blood-checked the immediate guards, and they are in turn checking the rest. Once that’s done—assuming we discover no more shapeshifters—I’ll begin investigating what this ‘Brand’ has been doing lately.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said Kuranes. “I hesitate to bring it up, but what about us? Surely we should blood-check as well?”

Britomartis gave a half-bow.

“I hesitated to mention it myself, my King. Yes, I would greatly appreciate it. I have a prick here,” she said, holding out a glinting needle on her palm.

The King held out his hand, and she neatly pricked his thumb, letting a drop of crimson blood ooze out. “Thank you.”

The King turned to the rest of the group.

“You will all blood-check now,” he commanded. “Commander, guard us all.”

She nodded, and waved her guards in to surround the whole party.

Jake noticed that there were three Ibizim standing around the Matriarch now, too: two were obviously fighters, and one older man who was probably a councilor.

One by each, she drew a drop of blood from everyone in the party, then one from TT as well.

The King gave a sigh of relief and sat down on one of the rocks flanking the stairs.

“Mistress Mochizuki,” he said, “I would ask that you care for Master TiTi, and work with him on his idea. It strikes me that your methods would share much in common, even though he is from the military and you are not.”

“My King,” she nodded. “May I accompany you back to Celephaïs?”

“Of course, once Commander Britomartis finishes checking the airships. I think our meeting is done, for now. ”

“What’s a Flayed One?” asked Jake.

Matriarch Geriel answered him: “They can change their appearance to look like anyone, although the process takes hours. They can’t change their size, of course, but since they can change their appearance they make wonderful spies.”

“Are they human? I mean, when they’re not changed?”

“They were human, once, but no more,” said Chuang. “They are called Flayed Ones because they are literally flayed—skinned—and undergo a transformation process lasting at least a full year, during which time they are in constant agony. To my knowledge there have been none in the Dreamlands for dozens of grand dozens of years.”

A grand dozen was twelve squared, and twelve times that was just over seventeen hundred years... so, thousands of years, at any rate.

Somebody spit.

Jake turned to see TT awake, his torso raised up on an elbow as he spit blood.

“Be still, buddy,” he called. “Lemme get you some water.”

He dashed back into the pavilion, grabbed a jug of water and a bowl, and carried them to where TT lay groaning.

He slipped one arm under the wounded man’s back, supporting him so he could drink from the bowl more easily.

He drank, coughed, spit, drank again. Weakly waved his hand at Jake, who let him down again.

“He stuck you pretty bad, TT.”

“Yeah, I know. Figured I was a goner... how come I’m here?”

“The King and magic. They did something to get you over the hump... look, the wound’s already closed.”

TT just reached down and felt his abdomen where minutes ago an ugly slash had been gushing with blood. It was still sopping wet, of course, but he gingerly probed the area with his fingers.

“It doesn’t hurt! It’s... it’s just a dull ache now! What the hell...?”

“Just be cool, TT. You’re gonna be taking it easy for a while.”

“Did you get that bastard? Brand?”

“Nope, he got away in an airship. Turns out it wasn’t Brand, though... somebody took his place and spying on the meeting. If you hadn’t alerted us...”

TT smiled and closed his eyes, letting his body relax.

“I try not to let people who stab me get away with it,” he said, mumbling as he fell asleep.

“He’s sleeping now,” said Jake, final standing to face the others. “Thank you for saving his life.”

“Of course, Commander Jake,” smiled the King. “We take care of our own.”

There were still a few guards nearby, but Britomartis and Mochizuki were gone.

“They are checking the other airships, and setting up a system to check everyone with access to the King,” explained Chuang. “We cannot check everyone in Serannian, of course, but we can control who gets too close.”

“What would happen to the city if the King were to die?”

Chuang pursed his lips.

“We don’t actually know... King Kuranes birthed Celephaïs, you know, and Thuba Mleen was here before. Once Celephaïs was birthed, of course, countless people have been born and lived there for dozens upon dozens of generations, and they obviously all believe it exists. Would it survive his death? We just don’t know...”

“That’s crazy!”

“Well, yes, it would be crazy in Wakeworld, no doubt, but here King Kuranes arrived quite recently—about a grand dozen years ago—in one sense, but created Celephaïs and other things that have been here for millennia. Defining reality is quite complicated here, especially when Dreamers are involved.

“And that is exactly why Master TiTi is still alive.”

“But if everything is so fluid...” Jake’s words petered out.

“...why can’t we just make Thuba Mleen disappear?” asked Chuang.

“Yes. And so much more.”

Chuang sighed.

“Unfortunately, we don’t know that, either. Some things are easy, some things take enormous concentration and energy, some things appear to be impossible. Maybe we are simply not strong enough. Thuba Mleen appears to be a permanent part of the Dreamlands, but we can fight him effectively within the constraints of our realm. And he, for his part, appears constrained as well as far as what forces he can apply.”

“My King, we should leave now,” said Britomartis, returning to the pavilion. “The steward will blood-check the rest of the palace staff here, and arrange for tighter security.”

“Are the airships secured?”

“They’ve been thoroughly checked, yes. While neither Mistress Mochizuki nor I expects an attack, two guardships will accompany us back to the city.”

“Thank you.”

The King turned to the other members of the Council, who were still talking quietly among themselves.

“Factor Chóng? You will return to Lhosk, I gather? With Shingan Oshō?”

“Yes, I will make sure he gets back to Mt. Thurai safely. Physician ibn Sina will travel with me as well.”

“Randolph, you’re with me, of course... Matriarch Geriel? Will you accompany me to Celephaïs?”

“I must return to Noor with all due haste, if you have an airship I may use. I must tell the Ibizim of the Flayed One.”

“I will have an airship take you there immediately, Matriarch.” The King turned to Britomartis. “Commander, assign a guard airship to take the Matriarch home.”

He turned to Jake.

“And what about you, Commander Jake? Master TiTi will accompany Mistress Mochizuki, and after he is healed will stay with her for a time to share ideas. You are welcome to join him, or come with me to Celephaïs.”

“I would like to return to my own home, King Kuranes. I could travel with the Matriarch, if she is amenable.”

“Of course. Master Chuang? Will you go to see your horses, too?”

“No, my lord. Another few weeks yet. Shingan Oshō and I have some things to discuss, so I shall accompany him and Factor Chóng, and join you in Celephaïs later.”

“So be it,” he commanded, and turned to Britomartis. “Commander?”

“This way, my King,” she responded, pointing toward the airship wharf.

The group split up into various parties, and Jake watched them carry TT off on a stretcher. He was quite unhappy to leave his friend, but he had to admit they’d done a good job of taking care of him so far. He trusted Factor Chóng, and clearly the Factor trusted all these people...

He was left with the Matriarch and her retinue, and a Sergeant Brauna of the King’s Guard, an average-looking kind of guy who didn’t look like he deserved to be a sergeant.

Sergeant Brauna guided them to the wharf where an older airship waited.

A military craft, apparently, the flat hull base was painted blue, and the upper sections with random camouflage patterns in various colors. He noticed it had small scorpions—bolt throwers—mounted on the gunwales on both sides.

The rest of the six—two women and three men—were readying the airship for departure.

They boarded, slipped the hawsers, and soared into the sky.

Chapter 4

TT was quite unhappy.

He’d really looked forward to seeing Celephaïs again. The last time he’d been here, less than a year ago with the three surviving members of Probe Six, they’d still been mentally in shock from this new reality, and at every turn they ran into sights and sounds that reminded them they were not in Kansas anymore.

Seeing huge dinosaurs pulling wagonloads was quite a shock, even if they were mostly sedate herbivores, but someone walking with a trained velociraptor at their side was terrifying. His hand twitched constantly for his pistol—he still had it, but without ammunition it was pretty useless.

Nolan Geiszler, the biologist, was in seventh heaven, of course, and the other two scientists were having the time of their lives, too, with incredible discoveries lurking at every turn in the road.

It was a pity some of the other Probe Six people hadn’t lived to see it.

Nolan, Mack, and Johnny were taking notes and making sketches like crazy, although they had to learn how to use pen and ink to do it. The King gave them whatever they wanted, and guards to stop them from doing anything too silly.

When they flew home from Serannian the King had him rushed off to his castle to recover, and he was only able to meet Nolan and Mack briefly. Johnny was somewhere over on the Western continent, unfortunately.

By the time he began to feel like a human being again, his wound almost healed except for horrendous scars front and back, they were off into the wilds again, and he was a guest of the King.

Chuang pronounced him sufficiently recovered, and Mochizuki turned up to drag him off to the next place, still without letting him wander the city and see the sights.

So now he was riding another horse through the woods with a bunch of ninjas.

He looked around once again.

There were five of them in all: Mochizuki, the lady who ran it all, three almost silent fighters who seemed to be her protective detail, and himself.

They were all wearing relatively tight-fitting clothes with forest-and-rock colored patterns. Probably not as good as what he was used in the Army, but considering nobody here had a decent firearm, probably pretty effective.

The horses down at Jake’s fort all jingled when they walked, as metal rings on the bridles or stirrups moved, but these horses were dead silent except for hoofbeats. And he noticed that Zhen-Yue—the woman on point—selected trails least likely to produce much noise. Or many travelers... he hadn’t seen a soul since they entered the forest north of Celephaïs.

Mochizuki usually rode next to him, or behind on narrow trails, and TT had to restrain himself from constantly checking to see if the two men bring up the rear were still there, because they never made a noise.

Mochizuki had cautioned him to stay as quiet as possible, which was easy for him, but he had no idea how to control his horse. Fortunately, it seemed to be well-trained and didn’t cause any problems.

His ass and thighs were quite painful by the late afternoon, and he was delighted when Zhen-Yue held up her hand to halt, and sat still on the trail. A young man wearing camouflage stepped out of the forest and spoke to her quietly, then vanished back into the shrubbery again.

“All clear, Mistress.”

Mochizuki nodded, and snapped her reins to get her horse moving.

“There is no need to be quiet anymore, Master TiTi. This area is quite safe.”

“Your base, I gather?”

“A small village named Farlaway. It is still some distance from here, but access routes are closely guarded.”

The trail remained narrow, but it became much easier to ride along, with fewer tree roots and slopes to navigate.

“You have a whole village?”

“It is easier that way,” she explained. “We don’t have to hide anything, except from the air, and everyone gets used to acting like a villager.”

“How many people is ‘everyone’?”

“Under a grand dozen, usually.”

Twelve squared, he thought. One hundred and forty-four.

“And they’re all... ninja?”

She laughed.

“Master Richard said the same thing. I’d never even heard the term until years after I’d begun Farlaway. No, very few of us are ninja.”

She turned to face him, riding parallel.

“What do you know of us, Master TiTi? The King says you are to be trusted, but I don’t know what you’ve been told.”

“Very little, I’m afraid. From what I gather you spy for the King, and sometimes carry out sensitive missions for him.”

“Sensitive missions,...” she repeated. “Yes, I like that. Sensitive missions! Ha!”

She seemed genuinely amused by the phrase.

“Farlaway is where we train assassins, Master TiTi. Kingfishers always watch and collect information, but there are times when we must spy, or steal, or sabotage. The people here are trained as assassins.”

“So you have other training camps for other needs, then,” said TT, and glanced at Mochizuki.

She just smiled.

He could almost hear her answer in his head: I can neither confirm nor deny...

A short time later the trail widened, and the forest suddenly opened up into a clearing. On the far side rose a sudden cliff, a small waterfall plunging over the lip to fall fifty or sixty meters to a pool below. It fed a stream that ran past a small waterwheel, then off through a clump of ramshackle buildings and into the forest. He could see pigs and chickens wandering around, and a few horses grazing.

It looked like a tiny, poor, weak farming village in the middle of nowhere, farmers eking out a tough life in the wilderness, totally defenseless. No ramparts, no moat, not even a palisade, except for the simple fences to keep the animals from wandering. There was a larger building in the middle, maybe the church, he figured.

Fields were pretty small, looked like corn and some other grain, wheat maybe.

An old man, wearing nothing but a loincloth and a sweaty rag tied around his forehead, leaned on his hoe to watch them approach.

“Mistress,” he nodded in greeting as Mochizuki rode in.

“Weaponmaster,” she greeted him in return. “This is Master TiTi. The King stands for him.”

“Welcome, Master,” he said, nodding in TT’s direction.

“He is from Wakeworld, weaponmaster, and is here to teach us their ways.”

The weaponmaster cocked his head, taking in TT’s clothing and weapons... and did not look impressed.

“I’m hoping to learn how to use a sword properly, too,” said TT, hoping to get ahead of the situation. “Where I come from firearms are used, and I never held a sword until recently. I do appreciate a good knife, though.”

He tapped his Ka-Bar; the weaponmaster looked at the sheathed weapon curiously.

“He is wounded,” broke in Mochizuki. “He will live with Roach for now.”

“That promises to be interesting,” the weaponmaster said, turning back to his hoeing. “Roach is on the cliff right now if you need him.”

“No, rest for now,” she said, and her horse began walking again. She called to one of her rear guards to fetch Roach.

They stopped in front of a small, well-weathered clapboard house. One side was made of logs, with mud packed into the holes, and it looked like it had some sort of rock chimney built into one wall.

Zhen-Yue helped him dismount, and offered to help him walk, but he declined, preferring a little pain just to stretch his legs a bit.

There was no front door, but rather an opening leading into a mudroom—real dirt floor and everything!—with three sliding doors facing it. Mochizuki opened the door on the right, revealing a wooden floor with a sleeping mat and a few personal items.

“This is Roach’s house. You’ll be staying with him for now.”

“Only one mat...”

“We will bring you necessities shortly, and Roach is coming now. He is an orphan who has only recently come here. A unique individual.”

“In the Dreamlands it seems that everyone is unique.”

“Yes, quite. As are you, Master TiTi.”

She stepped back into the sunlight.

“I have things to attend to. Later our healer will check on you, probably with medicine. For now, rest and recover. Feel free to wander the village, if you like, but keep in mind that the swine are almost wild and quite ill-tempered. And do try to keep Roach from stabbing you.”

“Uh... yeah, I’ll do that...”

Zhen-Yue showed him where the water and the honeypot were, and then left with Mochizuki.

He was alone with the birdsong and noises from distant hogs and chickens until Roach arrived.

TT was sitting, back against a wall, watching the trees sway in the breeze through the open window, when suddenly the door slid open.

A young boy, maybe twelve or so—looked like a junior high school student—stood there, staring at him.

Straw-colored hair, freckles... TT expected to see a stalk of grass sticking out his mouth: he was the archetypal farm kid.

“Hi, I’m, uh, TT of Preston Oklahoma.”

“Roach,” said the kid, and continued to just stand and stare.

“Mochizuki—uh, Mistress Mochizuki said I’m staying here for a while. I’ll keep out of your way...”

The boy stepped into the room and, without a word, began putting wood into the fireplace in the adjoining room. He took some moss tinder from a bowl nearby, and flint and steel from his wallet, but before he started getting the fire going picked up an iron pot and handed it to TT.

It was heavy, with three little bumps on the bottom for legs and a wire handle to hang it by.

“Water,” said Roach, and then bent over to get the fire going.

TT looked around. No running water here, certainly... was there a well somewhere? The stream, maybe?

He stepped outside and ran his eyes through the village, looking for a well. Nope.

Ah! Over there! Somebody else with a similar pot fetching water from the stream!

Well, the stream it is, he thought, and strolled over to fetch a pot full.

By the time he got back the fire was crackling.

He held out the pot to Roach, who took it without a word of thanks.

Roach reached outside the window and poured about half the water onto the ground, then popped open a wooden barrel and reached inside. When he pulled his hand back out, he held a small wood box full of rice. He poured it into the pot once, then again and again. Four times.

He dropped a cover on the pot, set it to hang over the fire, and headed for the door again.

“Hey! Where you off to? Talk to me!”

Roach just glanced at him, slipped his sandals back on, and left.

“Well, fuck me. What the hell...”

TT was furious.

My new roommate, and a total of two words so far. Kid can’t even be bothered to talk to me!

He stepped to the doorway to see where the kid went...

The little shack over there, apparently to pick up some fish, maybe half a dozen little ones all stuck together on a stick running through their gills.

He didn’t say anything to the old woman in the shack, either, at least not that TT could tell.

Roach walked back, his eyes flickering all around. They caught TT’s for a split second, then flashed on, constantly roaming.

TT stepped back out of the mudroom to let Roach enter. He stepped up through the left door directly into the ‘kitchen,’ not a word to TT, and began running bamboo skewers through each fish, one at a time, then set them down on the low wood table.

In a few minutes they were joined by a few lidded bowls of something. One of them had what looked like a piece of spinach or something hanging out of it, speckled with... sesame seeds, maybe?

He turned around to see Roach sitting on the floor, tying a cloth around his eyes.

Since he hadn’t had much luck with conversation so far, he decided to just sit down on the opposite side of the table and watch.

Holy shit!

He couldn’t believe his eyes... blindfolded, Roach was spinning his dagger into the air with one hand, and snatching it out of the air with the other. Except for his arms, his body was as still as a statue, face turned toward the mudroom.

The dagger flashed faster and faster, the kid never missing, ten, twenty times... until suddenly, instead of spinning the dagger one more time, he threw it across the room, high.

It slammed home with a hard crack, and TT saw that it was damn close to the center of a little wood target hanging there. Couldn’t be more than a centimeter off, if that.

“Son of a bitch, Roach! That’s fucking amazing!”

Roach removed his blindfold and looked at the dagger, still vibrating in the target.

He held up his left hand, and examined his index finger. There was a hairline of red along the tip, the thinnest cut just beginning to ooze.

“Blood.”

“Hey, it’s just a little cut, kid... that’s damned impressive, what you just did! I’d cut my own fingers off if I tried it!”

Roach walked over the pulled his dagger out of the target, slipping it back into its sheath.

“May I see that?” asked TT, holding out his hand.

Silent as always, Roach pulled his dagger out, flipped it casually in one hand, and held it out to TT hilt-first.

It was long and thin, with only a very low guard. He hefted it—beautiful balance. A throwing knife, he thought. Or an assassin’s weapon.

He carefully handed it back, and pulled out his Ka-Bar.

Straight blade, but thicker steel than Roach’s, with guard and blood groove. No-slip leather haft, steel pommel that could crack skulls... the kid’s dagger might be designed for stealth, but his was designed for the bloody melee.

Roach sheathed his weapon and examined TT’s, appreciating its weight and sharpness.

He flipped it once in his hand, hefting it, then casually threw it at the same target.

The Ka-Bar isn’t balanced for throwing, and this kid just touched it for the first time, and son of a bitch if he didn’t kiss it right into the sweet spot!

Roach pulled it out of the target and handed it back to TT.

“Big,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a big knife. Supposed to be,” agreed TT.

Footsteps sounded in the mudroom and the door slid open.

A village Godsworn stood there, shaved head and rosary beads and everything.

“Lao of Panakeia,” he announced. “I am the healer.”

TT glanced at Roach, who seemed totally disinterested, and was in fact checking to see how the rice was coming along.

“The Mistress asked me to take a look at your wound, Master TiTi,” said the Godsworn. “If I may?”

“Of course,” said TT, sitting down and pulling up his tunic.

Roach was watching, he noticed.

The wound was unchanged after the long ride. It was fully closed, puckered, and ugly as hell.

He couldn’t see the one on his back but figured it looked pretty much the same... a sword running through your guts probably left the same sort of scars on both ends.

The Godsworn prodded here and there, spoke a few words to himself under his breath, and then sat back again, cross-legged.

“No pain, it seems... you didn’t flinch.”

“No, just a sort of... I dunno, stretching... maybe? Hurts a bit every once in a while, but only flashes.”

“I think you’re safe now. You were healthy to start with, and they healed most of the wound for you.”

“I wish I knew how to do that,” TT mused.

“As do I,” nodded the Godsworn. “But for now, all I can do is suggest you avoid lifting heavy things for another week or so, and take this twice a day.”

He held out a small leather pouch.

TT pulled it open and smelled something spicy and moldy. It didn’t smell very appetizing.

“Dissolve in water?”

“If you like. Or just take a pinch of the powder. You won’t notice any effects, but it will stimulate recovery.”

“Just by laying hands on me, you can tell how healthy I am?”

“You doubt it?”

“Let’s just say my experience has been different,” said TT.

“Would it help if I said that you have had one tooth pulled and replaced with metal and ceramic, and had two tumors removed from your intestines? In addition to breaking your left arm in your childhood,” asked the Godsworn. “Or I could mention your appendix, which is fascinating because there is no scar.”

TT blinked... when he was unconscious someone could have seen his dental implant, but unless they had access to his military records there was no way anyone could know the rest.

“Tumors? Um, we call those polyps... Yeah, I guess that helps quite a bit, Healer Lao... so you got all that just by touching me?”

“And more, I’m afraid, but nothing either of us needs to worry about. What happened to your appendix, anyway?”

“I don’t know all the details, but they used a very thin metal knife to remove it through a hole in my navel.”

“Your navel!” The Godsworn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Through your navel! Amazing! And is this common in your realm?”

“No, I don’t believe so. I worked for The Project, a medical research facility developing new techniques, and was no doubt a test subject. I needed emergency surgery, and that was the quickest option.”

“And the polyps? Also through your navel?”

“No, that was through my asshole. Just took a few minutes, snip-snip, and I was all done.

The Godsworn shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I would like to talk to you more later, hopefully. Perhaps we might converse now and again while you recuperate?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not a doctor, but happy to help.”

“Thank you, Master TiTi. I shall return tomorrow, as my work permits.”

He stood and glanced at Roach, then back to TT.

“Any problems here?”

TT glanced at Roach, who seemed oblivious of the question.

“No, nothing in particular. He’s not a talkative fellow, though.”

“Do not underestimate Master Roach... he is not talkative, but I think you’ll find him unusually perceptive and intelligent. The Mistress suggests you would make a magnificent pair.”

“Pair of what?”

“Operatives, I believe Commander Jake called them,” smiled Lao, then bowed and left.

* * *

Things were developing nicely.

It was so easy to penetrate their defenses.

Now I just wait until the time is ripe for the next stage of the plan.

I’ve already picked up some valuable information, and once Phase Two begins I’ll be able to get far more.

When Phase Two begins, I’ll be able to do much, much more than merely listen, too.

So sleepy...

Chapter 5

The Guard airship was quite cramped.

In addition to the three King’s Guards, there were five others: Jake, Matriarch Geriel, Councilor Nekhii, and her two guards, for a total of eight.

The airship was designed to hold a six, and only for relatively short flights at that.

They stocked up on food and water before they left Serannian, but the airship was simply not large enough for everyone. The cabin was only large enough for four people, and by unspoken agreement the Guards and Jake stayed topside and left the cabin to the Matriarch and the other Ibizim. The weather was fortunately good, and although they had to tack quite a bit to travel southeast, they made good progress.

They stopped briefly in Pungar Vees while the Guards purchased some supplies, but the Ibizim and Jake stayed hidden aboard. There was no point in advertising who was on board, or where they were heading.

Only one Guard entered the city to buy food, and when she returned the other two made very sure to confirm the color of her blood.

“I saw nobody following me, and the only person who took any interest in me at all was the merchant, who was far more interested in my gold,” she said, holding out her hand for the prick. The drop of blood that oozed out was healthy crimson.

She sucked her finger as she stood.

“It was good to walk a bit, though!”

Their course would take them next to Jake’s monastery, then cut south of the Lake of Sarnath and on to the hills of Noor.

“You are welcome to rest at my fort,” invited Jake after they were safely aloft again. “And of course replenish food and water.”

“We’d have to bloodcheck everyone.”

“Of course,” agreed Jake. “That is the first thing on my agenda. I don’t expect any surprises, but I’m going to make very sure of that.”

The Matriarch nodded.

“Matriarch Altansetseg of the Copper Beetle says you are a man to be trusted, Commander Jake. If Aercaptain de Palma agrees, perhaps we can rest there a day... I would like to see your fort for myself, if I may.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

Jake and the Matriarch were standing on the tiny deck, watching the forests surrounding the River Ai slip past as they overflew. The airship was almost totally silent, with only the creaking of the masts and rigging and an occasional gust of wind. What special forces could do with this airship and a couple wingsuits!

“Matriarch, may I ask why you do not give a Home after your name?”

“Because I am not of a Home, Commander Jake, but rather of all the Homes. The Copper Beetle is but one family of the Ibizim.”

“So, a sort of queen, then?”

“Elected, but yes, the ruler of the Ibizim.”

“And your commands are law?”

“They are law, but there are also the lawless. A Matriarch who goes against the wishes of her people may soon find herself deposed.”

“By a new elected Matriarch, I gather. And the old one retires.”

“Hardly. A Matriarch may retire, if she wishes, at any time, but the penalty for causing a revolt is usually death.”

“The Matriarch—the effective ruler of the Ibizim—is thought to have caused the revolt!?”

“Of course! If the people are served properly they have no need to revolt, and if they are served poorly it is the servant who is at fault, not the people.”

Jake mulled that one over as he watched the birds playing in the sails.

“That sounds ideal... and remarkably unrealistic.”

“It doesn’t always work out as well as it’s supposed to,” admitted the Matriarch, “but we’ve managed to keep things under control so far. Although it can take a few years to fix some problems.”

“Hmph. I bet,” said Jake. “In my realm, fixing that sort of problem can take a few years and grand dozens of grand dozens of lives.”

She looked as if she doubted his math.

He checked it quickly again in his head. Yeah, a grand dozen was about seventeen hundred, and seventeen hundred squared would be, mmm, about two point nine million. Two of those would be about as many Jews as were murdered in World War II... so yeah, the numbers checked.

“Yes, that many. It happened about two dozen years before I was born. And might happen again.”

“We’re hoping—the Council is hoping—to prevent that from happening. That was the whole point of the meeting.”

“I thought it was just to discuss how to handle Thuba Mleen, at first.”

“He is certainly a major problem, and must be dealt with or a terribly destructive war could well occur here in the Dreamlands. It would not be limited to swords and arrows, one fears.”

“Cannon, you mean?”

She laughed.

“Oh, goodness no. Cannon are deadly, but they only kill a dozen people at a time. Thuba Mleen threatens to bring back Gods better left forgotten.”

“There aren’t any gods where I came from,” mused Jake.

“Of course not! They’re all here, in some Dreamland realm or other.”

Just then Aercaptain de Palma called back from the prow.

“Who’s for fresh fish for dinner?”

Jake glanced over the railing.

The River Ai was just below, and the airship was slowly descending.

They spent a few hours drifting above the river, dropping baited lines until they had enough for dinner.

Roast fish on an airship was an excellent way to spend an evening, Jake thought.

The airship flew on through the night, and shortly after dawn Jake’s fort came into view.

They lacked radios, of course, so Jake instructed Aercaptain de Palma to set down on the grassy slope below the fort wall.

Nadeen and Captain Long were there to meet him.

“Welcome back, Jake!” called Nadeen, wading through the grass to give him a kiss.

“Good to be back, Nadeen.”

Captain Long, only a few steps behind, offered a wrist-clasp. “Commander.”

“Captain Long.”

Jake waved at the airship.

“Since we have to go back up anyway, hop on. Be a lot quicker that way.”

Captain Long nodded, waved to his troopers to ride back up into the fort with his and Nadeen’s horses, and climbed aboard.

It was an even tighter fit that before, but it was only for the few minutes it took the airship to rise to the fort’s cliff wall, and moor there.

In short order the gangplank was in place, and they all trooped ashore.

“Welcome to The Monastery,” said Jake.

“Why is it called that?” asked the Matriarch.

“Nobody came up with anything better, and since we’ve been referring to it as a monastery since we first saw it... why not?”

“A rather inappropriate name for a military fort, isn’t it?”

Jake shrugged.

“I’ve never placed much faith in names. What things and people do is more important.”

“I see. In many cases, yes, they are. In others...”

She let the sentence dissipate into silence.

Magic, he realized. She was talking about magic.

“Well, anyway, now that we’re here, let me show you around,” he said, inviting them in.

They were standing on the top of the cliff wall, and airship moored in empty space next to it.

“Under us is a stable and several storerooms, as well as the toilets. It’s also where Mintran makes his saltpeter, and that end of the stables stinks.

“That building there is his laboratory, and just behind it the new bath. To the right of the bath is my residence, and farther away, closer to the front wall, is the armory and smithery.

“The kitchen, mess, library and a few other rooms are in the main building, there. There’s a courtyard in the middle.”

“I see you have a church and bell tower, too,” she said.

“Yes. We’ve fixed up most of the buildings, and the bell rings the hours now. We’re not really using the church for anything at all, yet.”

Jake led the way to the end of the cliff wall, past the scorpion, and down the stairs there.

“Please, come in. You are all welcome to rest here as long as you wish.”

The Matriarch turned to Aercaptain de Palma.

“Aercaptain? Are you in a hurry?”

“My men and I are at your command, Matriarch. I’m sure we can put Noor off for a day or two.”

“Thank you. I would like to see the horses, since we’re here, and perhaps enjoy a real meal.”

Councilor Nekhii, the wizened old man who apparently only spoke Ibizim, mumbled something to the Matriarch, and she turned to Jake.

“First, the Faceless Ones.”

Jake nodded. “My quarters are over there; let’s start there.”

The building, standing some distance from the church and connected structures, was probably once the private residence of the abbot, or whoever was in charge of the monastery in its heyday. It was more than sufficient for Jake and Nadeen, with large open room for work or guests, small kitchen, small bath and toilet, and bedroom. Jake often used it to meet with Sergeant Long or guests when conversations needed to be kept quiet.

The Matriarch, Councilor Nekhii, Nadeen, and Captain Long took cushions around the table with Jake. Nadeen stirred up the embers, and set a kettle of fresh water on for tea.

They sat in silence, listening to the water as it hissed and began to bubble.

She poured hot water into the cups and let them warm while measuring the tea leaves. She filled the pot with boiling water, swirled appropriately, and poured the cups, cycling through them several times to ensure nobody got unduly weak or bitter tea.

It was bright green in color.

“Baharna green tea,” she said, handing the first cup to the Matriarch.

“I’d like to see how we can more effectively work with the Matriarch. For the short term, our goal remains defeating—or at least controlling—Thuba Mleen.”

“And the long term?” asked Nadeen.

“I can’t go into that yet, I’m afraid,” apologized Jake. “That’s why the King called me to meet with him.

“Our meeting was not finished. A spy killed and replaced one of the King’s Guards, and listened to much of the meeting before being discovered. He escaped, but in the process he almost killed TT.”

“Is he alright?”

“He’s in Celephaïs now, I believe, under the care of Master Chuang, who said not to worry. He was stabbed in the back, through-and-though!”

“Master TiTi!? He’s always so alert!”

“The spy was a Flayed One... wearing the face of a trusted guard.”

“...A Flayed One!” breathed Nadeen. “I thought they were myth!”

“Unfortunately, not, it seems... TT was hurt pretty bad, but managed to get a strike in anyway. I saw that black blood. No way that was from a human being.”

“We must bloodcheck you,” said the Matriarch. “It is unlikely there are more of them, but we have to be sure.”

“What does ‘bloodcheck’ mean?” asked Captain Long.

“It’s very simple,” explained Jake. “Just prick your finger and see what color your blood is.”

He pulled a small needle from where it had been stuck inconspicuously into his vest, and stuck it into his own finger, letting a drop of crimson blood well up.

“Like that.”

He took his pistol out of its pouch and held it in his hand, not pointed at anyone but very obvious. They all knew what it was, and most of them had seen it fired. He handed the needle to Captain Long, who was sitting next to him.

Without any hesitation, the Captain stuck it into his own finger, and handed it to Nadeen. It passed around the table, and the Matriarch and Councilor Nekhii joined them in demonstrating the color of the blood.

“Captain Ridhi! Would you come in for a minute?” called Jake out the window, expecting that she’d be lurking near the kitchen, far enough that she couldn’t hear their conversation but close enough to come when called.

She showed up promptly, and when Jake asked for a drop of blood held out her finger with a questioning look but no complaint.

It was red.

“Thank you, Captain Ridhi. We will need to bloodcheck everyone on your staff, and everyone else in the fort,” said Jake, “starting with our own teams. Nadeen, would you go get Beghara? Captain Long, have Danny and Seri drop what they’re doing and come at once.

“Captain Ridhi, once we check the troopers, we’ll do your staff next. Are they all inside the fort right now?”

“Yes, Commander. Should I call them for a meeting?”

“Thank you, yes, if you could get them together we can get this all done very quickly, one way or another.”

Ridhi Chabra left, followed by Nadeen and Long, and Jake turned to the Matriarch.

“Once we bloodcheck Beghara, Danny, and Seri, we can do everyone else here pretty easily, I think. We should be able to finish it all today. But what about the village?”

“How many villagers come here?”

“Now that the fort’s repair work is done, we only get deliveries of supplies we buy there, mostly food. A number of villagers work with the horses when they’re down in the pastures, but they rarely come into the fort.”

“Can you arrange to bloodcheck everyone who enters?”

“They won’t like it... Can we just tell them about the Flayed Ones?”

Nakhii said something to the Matriarch, and they conversed in Ibizim for a moment.

She turned back to Jake.

“Councilor Nekhii says that would probably scare them pretty badly, and maybe even stop them from coming here at all.”

“So we’re stuck?”

“Well, the Flayed Ones will not be interested in the village except as a means to get inside the fort. And there are surely not more than one or two of them, anyway. I don’t think the villagers have much to worry about.

“There are a few things you need to know, however. First of all, it takes five or six hours for a Flayed One to make the change. It’s not instantaneous,” continued the Matriarch. “After two or three days the blood begins to show through, and their eyes and the insides of their mouths turn black.”

“Hmm, that’ll help a little, but it still means they can look normal for a couple days.”

A few minutes later, Nadeen and Captain Long returned, bringing Beghara, Danryce, and Serilarinna with them.

Jake simply told them to hold out their fingers, and pricked them, one at a time, without explanation or warning.

It took only a few seconds, and then he explained about TT and the Faceless Ones.

“I want you to work down through everyone in the fort, starting with troopers and other people with weapons.”

“Any questions?”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Nadeen.

“You and I are going to visit the alchemist, the smith, and the kitchen, and bloodcheck everyone,” said Jake. “Captain Long, please take care of the stables as well. Anything else?”

There wasn’t, and they departed for their various missions.

It only took only a few hours to bloodcheck everyone in the fort. They’d check the remaining few as they returned later that day from their chores: tending the horses, cutting firewood, hunting, and similar tasks.

They gathered together again later at Jake’s quarters, where the Matriarch was waiting.

“Nekhii asks what is in the library,” said the Matriarch.

“Well, nothing yet. A few maps, that’s all. The whole monastery was a wreck when we got here. All the roofs and wooden walls are new; only the stonework was left. The villagers who helped rebuild it all said it had once been a library, but it’s just an empty room right now.”

“May he see the rest of your fort?”

“Of course. Captain, would you guide Councilor Nekhii to the library, and anywhere else he’d like to go? And I’ll show you the horses, Matriarch.”

By this time the Horsemaster had joined them.

“Turan of Xura,” she said, introducing herself.

“Geriel of the Ibizim of the Desert,” replied the Matriarch.

“Horsemaster, the Matriarch would like to see the horses, if we may.”

“Of course, Commander. There are only a few mares here right now; the rest are down in the pastures. The stable is this way,” she said, leading Jake and the Matriarch to the stables.

The door was a simple affair consisting of three poles roped together into a swinging gate. She unhitched the rope securing it shut and ushered them in.

The stable was large with windows on two sides and several streams running the length. One set of windows looked out into the fort, the other consisted of arrow slits looking down from the clifftop.

“I’m afraid it’s rather smelly,” apologized Turan. “Now that Mintran is making saltpeter the stables are not as pleasant as they used to be.”

“The walls and ventilation are still not good enough?”

“No, Commander Jake. They help, but not enough.” She sighed. “When the wind is right it’s wonderful, but when it’s wrong...”

The Matriarch ignored them both and walked up to the first occupied stall, held out her hand.

A whinny answered, and a horse’s head popped over the gate.

White with brown speckles, huge brown eyes, a whitish-grey mane flopping over her head.

“That’s Muddy,” said Turan. “Three years old, and three months pregnant.”

The Matriarch was stroking Muddy’s neck, whispering something to her.

“She’s been a bit skittish lately, and seems to prefer flowers to grass. Healthy, though, and so is her baby.”

“Good girl,” said the Matriarch, giving her one last pat to say goodbye. “Perhaps a nice cup of tea now.”

“Right this way, Matriarch,” invited Jake, leading her past the alchemist’s laboratory and toward the main structure. She barely glanced at the alchemist’s building in passing, and Mintran was out of sight, probably inside somewhere.

Since Mintran came here from Factor Chóng, she’d probably met him already anyway, he figured.

Ridhi Chabra was at the door to welcome them in. She was wearing a sari wrapped diagonally around her body, bright orange with a brown geometric pattern dyed into the border. In the sari, with long, black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, she certainly didn’t look anything like the leather-strapped scout she once was.

Had she put on a little weight, too?

“Welcome, Matriarch, come in, come in.”

She even sounded like a proper matron now, bowing and introducing herself: “Ridhi Chabra of Shiroora Shan.”

“Geriel of the Ibizim of the Desert.”

Her two guards introduced themselves and faded into the background, as they always did.

“You are the Matriarch of the Ibizim!”

Ridhi was astonished, and bowed once again.

“I am the Matriarch of the Ibizim of the Desert. And you are Ridhi Chabra, wounded in the sandstorm attack by Thuba Mleen. It is good that you are well.”

“Thank you, Matriarch. I will never work as a trooper again, unfortunately... my leg.”

Ridhi turned to the doorway and shouted “Berry! Our guests are waiting! Isn’t that tea ready yet?”

“Right away, ma’am!” came a muffled response from the kitchen, and shortly two of Ridhi’s kitchen staff bustled out with trays full of tea and fresh-baked sesame cakes.

The tea was Ridhi’s own favorite, a black, spicy blend from the mountains overlooking Shiroora Shan. It was called Eagle Claw, due to the shape of the leaves, which were long and spiky, curled like a raptor’s talons.

“I see you enjoy flowers as well, Commander,” said the Matriarch, looking out at the inner courtyard. It was full of flowering plants, some for use as herbs or medicines, but others simply because they were beautiful to look at.

“Jake and I both grew up in the desert, Matriarch,” answered Nadeen. “I’ve always loved greenery and flowers, and it’s wonderful to have them now.”

“I have little familiarity with your forests, I’m afraid,” she said. “The jungles of the Sunless Roads are rather different.”

“And far more deadly, I think! I have little desire to visit them again,” agreed Jake.

“Your flowers are indeed beautiful, Commander, but you have never seen the Crystal Caves in the darkness, the multi-colored lights glowing in a multitude of colors, and the Faery rose launching its seeds into the air in explosions of scarlet fire. A different beauty, and perhaps terrifying for those of the sunlight, but beauty nonetheless.

“You would be welcome to visit us once again,” she invited.

“Perhaps I—”

“Commander!”

It was Captain Long, standing just outside the window.

“It’s the church. The Councilor’s found a hidden book!” said Long. “He says you should come at once, too, Matriarch.”

They all stood.

“You can talk to him?”

“I know a little Ibizim, he knows a little of the common tongue,” explained Long as they left their hot tea steaming on the table and followed him back to the church building. “We managed.”

The church was a huge, cavernous hall, the ceiling rising eight or nine meters above them. There was no glass left in the frames, of course... another thing he planned on fixing. In roughly the middle of the floor was that enormous block of stone set into the floor. The Councilor knelt on the stone floor at the wider, ceremonial end of the church.

Next to him was one of the stones that made up the floor, pulled back to reveal a shallow storage space underneath, and a stack of dully shining metal sheets. They were dark gray, with spiky marks inscribed on them, running in tightly spaced columns that hurt the eye.

Jake couldn’t tell is the metal was gray to start with or just corroded with time, but the inscribed marks stood out clearly.

“What is it?”

The Councilor said something to the Matriarch, whose eyes opened wide. They exchanged a few sentences, and she drew closer to examine the sheets herself, but made no attempt to touch them.

Jake noticed that the Councilor was also handling them carefully, using a cloth to prevent touching them with his bare hands.

The Matriarch, still staring at the metal sheets, spoke slowly.

“That sigil! The sign of Nyogtha!” she gasped. “These must be the Rites of the Red Abyss... I have never seen them before...”

“What is it? And what language is that?”

“Spells to summon Nyogtha, the Thing That Should Not Be. It is said to be death to touch... It is written in Aklo, and is probably older than the Dreamlands.”

“That’s writing?”

“I recognize the glyphs, and do not wish to try to read them.”

She shook her head as if to wake herself.

“Do you have a dragolet for Ryūzōji Temple?”

“Ryūzōji? No...”

“Then you must notify the King of this at once. I fear there is no place in the Dreamlands where this can be kept safely, but Shingan Oshō will know what to do with them.”

“Can’t we melt them down or something?”

“This is golden orichalc, in spite of the blackened film. We no longer have the knowledge of how to work it, or melt it. We could not even bend one of those sheets, thin as they are.”

She held her hand out to the Councilor and said something in Ibizim.

He took pen and paper from his bag and handed them over, and she quickly wrote a brief letter in some cursive language, and folded the paper up.

“Fly this to Celephaïs at once, Commander,” she commanded, handing it over.

“Captain, would you see to it?”

Captain Long nodded, and stalked out of the room with the message. The dragolets were being kept in the stables for now, and Jake remembered that he still hadn’t gotten their coop built. He had to get that done, too.

“For now, please return them to their hiding place,” said the Matriarch, and Councilor Nekhii carefully wrapped them up the cloth—Jake realized that it was a curtain from one of the other rooms—and placed them into the cavity.

The cover was quite heavy, and Jake helped him pick it up and fit it back in place. It snapped into position with a dull scrape and thump.

“How does it open?” asked Jake.

The Councilor pointed to an innocuous indentation in the floor and mimed pressing it with a finger.

“Thank you. Matriarch, until then I’ll have guards here around the clock. It’s been undiscovered until now and I don’t expect any problems, but now that we know it exists, others may, too...”

“None of us will talk, but merely exposing it to the light of day may attract undue notice,” agreed the Matriarch. “A guard would be an excellent idea.”

“Ridhi, bring a table and shelves in here, and set them up on top of that stone. Find something to stock it with. Nadeen, work with Captain Long to figure out how to guard this place without being too obvious what we’re guarding.”

Nadeen nodded.

“We aren’t really using this space for anything yet,” explained Jake. “Once we get new windows, maybe, but for now it’s just too exposed to the weather.”

The Matriarch was looking at the block in the floor. It measured about a meter on a side, and had four lifting hooks set into it.

“Have you lifted this yet?”

“We lifted it a little bit when we first got here, just to see what was there. The block is about half a meter thick and very, very heavy. Some sort of tunnel underneath. I figured it was part of your tunnel network.”

“The desert is far from here, and on the other side of the Mohagger Mountains... I’m quite sure this is something else entirely. Did you explore it?”

“No need... that block’s not going anywhere.”

“Strange that the stream or the wells haven’t filled it with water...” she mused. “And worrisome, I think. I would suggest adding another block or two on top, just to be sure.”

“What would move them?”

“I do not wish to know, but that book suggests what this monastery was used for, once. And that evil things may yet lie in wait below.”

“Maybe we should direct the stream in there, and seal it up?” suggested Nadeen.

“No! It is unlikely to help, and would almost certainly summon... them...”

“Them?”

“The dwellers below, possibly even Nyogtha itself.”

She looked around the church slowly.

“I wondered who might have built this church here, so far from cities and towns... I suspect it was built and abandoned long before any villages were built nearby.”

“We still don’t know whether it was destroyed by an enemy, or simply abandoned to gradually fall into decay. There was very little of the original wood left, and while there was no major damage to the walls that might indicate an attack or siege, too many years have passed... it’s just impossible to tell.”

“I will have the records searched, Ibizim records and others, but this could date back to Sarnath, or even earlier,” she mused. “I see no immediate danger, and the fact that those sheets are still here suggests they have been forgotten entirely... but stay on guard nevertheless.”

The Matriarch and Councilor Nekhii walked through the rest of the building slowly, inspecting everything carefully, but noticed no other hidden compartments or dangers.

“Perhaps it has been so long that everything has been forgotten,” suggested Nadeen.

“Possible,” agreed the Matriarch, “but Nyogtha is eternal, and his minions only slightly less so... it seems to have been forgotten, but how long it may remain that way...”

“This Nyogtha is behind the Faceless Ones, too, isn’t he?”

“It. Nyogtha is an it, I think,” corrected the Matriarch.

“We have some things to discuss,” said Jake. “Let us return to my quarters.”

It was a far more serious gathering this time, as everyone now knew about the Faceless Ones.

Jake looked around the table to make sure everyone was there. He had some announcements to make.

“I’m making some changes in the company,” he said, “and there will be more when TT returns, I suspect. We have to prepare for attacks by Thuba Mleen, and start taking the battle to him, one way or another.

“There will be four twelves: Captain Long, you keep Seri and Lau with you. If you want to make her sergeant that’s your decision. Sergeant Beghara, you are now a captain, and keep Nnamdi in your twelve. You and Captain Long will be our primary forces, and for the time being will be handling any missions we are hired for.

“You both have full authority to fill out your twelves with new hires if needed. We don’t have enough troopers here now to fill out all the slots.”

“Commander, if I may?”

It was the Matriarch.

“I think it would be good for an Ibizim to join each of your twelves. They would serve as any other fighter, but make it much easier for you to navigate the desert, and interact with us.”

“An excellent idea, thank you. Captain Long? Captain Beghara? Any problems?”

“Fine with me,” said Beghara.

“Me, too,” agreed Long, “as long as they can follow orders, and fight.”

“Yargui of the Copper Beetle has already asked to join you, Commander Jake,” said the Matriarch. “I’ll arrange for... how many others?”

“There will be four twelves,” said Jake.

“Four, then. I will arrange for them to join you as soon as I return to my Home.”

“Thank you.”

Jake turned back to the group.

“Trooper Yargui saved our lives—me, Nadeen, and Beghara—after the fight in the sandstorm. She’ll be an asset, for sure.

“Danny, I want you to take the third twelve. You are going to be the special tactics group. I’ll be working with you for now, and as soon as TT gets back I would like him to be your sergeant, but that will be your decision. Pick your own people, but wait until we have a chance to go over a few things.

“And finally, Nadeen. I want you to captain the fourth twelve, in charge of fort defense. Ridhi is in charge of keeping the fort running, and I’ll expect you two to work together as needed.

“Ridhi, I’m giving you the rank of Captain, too, to make it clear that you can give people orders, but you won’t have any troopers under you.”

“That’s fine; I have more than twelve people following my orders already, even without any rank. Might help when I need to order some of Captain Long’s rowdies about, though.”

“One thing I would like you to look into as soon as possible, Ridhi: paper. I need to keep track of a lot of information, and for that I need paper. We can’t keep buying imported paper from Eudoxia and Shiroora Shan. It’s great stuff, but it’s too damned expensive and supply is irregular. I need it made here, for us.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea how to make paper!”

“Neither do I,” admitted Jake, “but it’s necessary. Somebody knows how to do it. Find out, and then we’ll figure out how to do it better. We have some troopers from Shiroora Shan, right? See if they know how to make it, or where it comes from.

“Matriarch, may I ask you to comment on Thuba Mleen’s activities?”

“As you all know, Thuba Mleen—we are unsure if that is actually a person, a group of people, or perhaps a lineage—has established himself as the Emperor of the Eastern Desert over the last five hundred years or so. Geographically, the Eastern Desert occupies roughly half of the eastern continent, but of course most of the people and cities are located in the other half. Strangely enough, his palace is in the mountains of Utnar Vehi, on the edge of the desert.

“His empire has been steadily expanding for a very long time, centuries in fact. And it has become clear that the desert is also expanding. While the Council has no proof that the two are connected, we are convinced that he is behind the desertification, and have determined to stop it. We believe that the only way to halt or even reverse the desertification is to topple Thuba Mleen, and various plans have been under way for some time.

“The Ibizim have struggled under his yoke for too long, and are preparing for a war of liberation. Thuba Mleen knows this, of course, but his armies are stretched too thinly over too wide an area, and he cannot muster the force needed to quell us, even if he could find us. The mountains and tunnels belong to us, and it would cost him dearly to attempt to attack our Homes.

“We fear that he will turn to more powerful allies, perhaps even Gods, to defeat the Ibizim, and eventually the Council.

“There is no doubt that his fighters are masters of the desert, but the desert is very large, and we can bleed his Empire with a thousand pinpricks.

“Outside of the desert, he buys kings and lords, nurtures dissension, and strives to foment needless strife and war between others, all to prevent us from allying with each other against him. Unfortunately, it often works, and we of the Council spend half our time putting out fires in our own lands instead of fighting him.

“This Company is one of our efforts to halt his expansion, and because Commander Jake—and Master TiTi—are from Wakeworld, we have high hopes for you.”

“Where is Master TiTi now?” asked Captain Long.

“He is with Mistress Mochizuki,” said Jake. “The spy lady.”

The Matriarch laughed.

“I think she will be quite amused to her herself referred to that way, Commander!”

“Who would tell her?”

“You said it yourself... she’s the spy lady. She has ears everywhere.”

“And hands, too, as I discovered a few days ago...” said Jake, turning the ring on his finger. “Be that as it may, when TT gets back we’re going to work with your twelve, Danny, and teach you a whole new way of fighting.”

“I’m pretty good at the old way of fighting,” said Danny. “Do we need a new one?”

“The old way hasn’t been working out too well against Thuba Mleen, and I think my way has a better chance. No more big fights with dozens or hundreds of people battling it out, just quiet strikes.”

Danny nodded, silent, but still looked unconvinced.

“Captain Ridhi,” said Jake suddenly, changing the subject, “what’s for lunch?”

She jumped up and left for the kitchen.

The meeting over, murmurs of conversation broke out here and there, and Jake reached for his tea. He was drinking a lot of tea these days. It seemed to make his stomach feel better.

Playing bossman was not at all as much fun as he’d thought it would be.

Chapter 6

After a few days TT had met pretty much everybody in the village.

From the outside it looked much like any other ratty little settlement buried off in the woods: about a dozen old, ramshackle houses, a “town hall” that was just four walls and a roof over packed dirt, a small waterwheel, and scattered fields of corn, wheat, barley, and vegetables.

The inhabitants all wore what could charitably be referred as “well-used” clothing, which in many cases were not much different than rags. Chickens and pigs wandered the village freely, defending themselves viciously when a farmer tried to catch one for dinner.

A miasma of animal excrement and human poverty hung over the village like a dark cloud.

An observer who stayed for a little longer, however, would notice that there was an unusual number of young, healthy men and women working the fields or the forests, and that even the wrinkled elders showed no sign of malnutrition.

A very good observer would notice that some of those young men and women also watched every movement in the surrounded forest for dozens of kilometers, whistling birdcalls to alert others to approaching intruders.

And the observer would have to be very good indeed to escape alive from that forest.

They were all in excellent shape, of course... He watched them practice scaling the cliff, and coming down again, and noticed that while they were very good at free climbing, it took them a few minutes to descend even with rope and gloves, while he could rappel it in thirty seconds.

He watched them sprint a hundred meters very quickly, barely out of breath, and noticed that he’d never seen them on a five-kilometer run, or with a twenty-five kilogram backpack.

He watched them training with various weapons, and noticed that they rarely used heavier swords or axes, preferring daggers and distanced weapons like bows and arrows.

They were trained to act alone, and if they were ever expected to act as a group they’d need to learn how to do it.

Two things they wouldn’t need to learn were stealth and agility... they could teach him! They could run over dry leaves and barely make a sound, leap straight up for at least a meter and a half, jump pretty amazing distances (silently, of course!) and more. They didn’t seem to have the same incredible strength in their arms, although they were strong.

He’d watched a number of their practice bouts, too, and it looked like they could do with a lot more training in unarmed combat. That he could handle in his sleep.

When he began to feel less pain, he started jogging, and his regular morning calisthenics.

Roach watched him quizzically.

“Instead of just standing there and watching me sweat, how ’bout you get down here and try it yourself?” said TT.

“I have plenty of muscles! I’m young!”

“Yup, you’re young, alright,” agreed TT. “So get down here and prove how strong you are, kid.”

Roach took it as a challenge from a sick man, and dropped to the ground next to him.

“Back straight, on your toes, arms straight... that’s right. Now keep your back straight, and drop down slowly until your chin touches the ground. Keep your legs straight! Your knee is touching the ground! Good! With me, now... One, two, three, four...”

TT started counting now that Roach understood the exercise. They got up to thirty-two when Roach collapsed, his left arm trembling.

TT kept going, partially because it felt good to exercise again, and partly to prove his point.

“...thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty...”

He stopped, breathing heavily. He figured he could probably do another couple dozen without trouble, and a lot more if he pushed it, even with his gut hurting, but he’d made his point.

“That’s the first exercise, kid. You still with me?”

Roach nodded, fire in his eyes.

“Let’s walk over to that tree over there,” invited TT. “Next is the pull-up.”

He reached up to the branch, grabbed it with both hands, and pulled himself up, chinning, and down. “One... two... three... four... fi... Damn!”

He dropped down, rubbing his abdomen.

“Hurts like a sonnovabitch. You try it, kid. At least five times.”

Roach smiled, jumped lightly up to grasp the branch, and chinned himself ten times without even slowing down.

“That one’s easy, old man.”

“Heck, you’re just a kid, don’t have all the muscle I’ve got,” laughed TT. “Normally I’d do some crunches next, but I think I’ll skip it until my gut feels better. Let’s see how you do on a five-klick run with a ruck on your back.”

Roach leapt into the air, lightly landing atop the branch.

“What’s a klick?”

“Impressive, kid! A klick is a kilometer.”

“And what’s a ruck?”

“A backpack, kid. Go get two really strong backpacks.”

Roach thought for a moment, then trotted off toward the mill. They probably had strong bags there for storing wheat or flour, he figured.

He was back in a few minutes with two woven baskets.

“No strong packs, but how about these?”

“Oh, yeah, these’ll do just fine,” said TT, inspecting one. “Now, load it up with about, oh, let’s say ten kilos to start.”

“Ten kilos of rocks?”

“Yup, nice big rocks. Put ’em in carefully so they don’t roll around.”

TT helped Roach get his pack settled neatly on his shoulders, and stuffed folded rags under the shoulder straps.

“You ready?”

“This is heavy,” complained Roach.

“It’s half what I usually run with,” said TT. “Good place to start.”

He slapped his hands together.

“How long is your morning run?”

“About ten kilometers.”

“You got a course about half that? Or less?”

“Yes, there are other paths.”

“OK, lead the way, kid. You don’t have to sprint, just set a steady pace and trot. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Can you keep up?”

TT smiled.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. After you, kid.”

As they jogged through the village toward the forest, TT noticed that the village Reeve—the mayor—put down his hoe to follow.

It didn’t take long before Roach was panting.

TT kept a close eye on him; he didn’t want the kid hurt.

“Keep your back straight, Roach! Don’t think about the pack, just concentrate on putting one foot down in front of the other. One, two, one, two... Good!”

They managed about three klicks, he figured, before Roach was wasted.

He kept on trying to jog, and he kept on almost losing his balance as his legs began wobbling.

TT tapped his shoulder.

“Maybe let’s take a rest here, kid,” he advised, pointing to a convenient spot on the side of the path. He wasn’t out of breath. A few months ago he’d run a five-klick course with a twenty-five kilo pack; this was—literally—child’s play.

Roach collapsed onto the mossy tree root, and struggled to free himself from the pack.

TT helped him get it off, and squatted down next to him.

“After you catch your breath we can walk back,” he said.

“We only... came about one... maybe three kilometers...” gasped Roach.

“Yup. You’ll do better tomorrow.”

“I’ll finish it today!”

“No you won’t, kid. Don’t push it. Your body needs to build up slow.”

“I don’t give up!”

“Hey, nobody asked you to. You push any harder and you’ll break something. Just trust me on this. Stick with it, you’ll get there soon enough.”

“And then what?”

“Oh, this isn’t all, don’t worry,” smiled TT. “You still have the crunch, and the ammo lift, and the maneuver under fire and a few other things to learn.

“I’d be real happy if you could reach me how to jump up like you do, though,” he continued.

“You’re too heavy, old man.”

“Yeah, so who’s panting right now?”

Roach’s mouth slammed shut, trying to hide his heavy breathing, but after a few seconds he gave it up and opened up again, a grin on his face.

“You might as well come out and join us, Somphone. I know you’ve been pacing us,” said TT quietly.

The brushes a few meters up the path opened quietly and the village Reeve stepped out.

“You heard me?”

“Nope, didn’t hear a thing,” admitted TT. “But I saw you follow us when we left the village, and figured I had nothing to lose by saying hi.”

“Your regimen is quite interesting,” said Somphone, an Asian man with graying hair who looked to be in his mid-fifties.

“The Marine Corps—my old unit—enforces some pretty tough requirements on soldiers, and I thought I’d introduce Roach here to a few of them.”

“When your wound is healed, would you teach a full twelve?”

“Sure, be happy to,” agreed TT. “You know, there are a couple things I’ve noticed around here that I might be able to help you with...”

Somphone hefted Roach’s basket. “You run with twice this? For five kilometers?”

“Yep. And on long hikes we might march for six or eight hours with a twenty-five kilo pack.”

“We had expected to be teaching you, but it appears we have things to learn from each other,” mused Somphone. “I think perhaps we should meet with Captain Rutger.”

“Who’s Captain Rutger?”

“He’s from the King’s Guard, and serves as a sort of conduit between us. I think he would be interested in your fitness regimen, too.”

“You don’t have an army?”

“There are very few armies in the Dreamlands, Master TiTi, because there are very few nations.”

“Kuranes?”

“The King does not have an army. He is actually King of Celephaïs, which is merely a large city. His real power comes from his skill at convincing other kings and rulers to agree with him in various matters.”

“And Thuba Mleen?”

“Thuba Mleen has an army, or rather several armies. Some of them are highly regimented, others seem to be armed rabble, but they all have sworn fealty to the Emperor of the Eastern Desert.”

“And so you avoid open battle when possible.”

“The numbers are against us.”

“Quantity has a quality all its own,” quoted TT.

“Indeed. You study tactics, then?”

“A famous, very brutal general in my realm, Josef Stalin, said that. Sure, I’ve studied tactics, but tactics can only be a guide, never a rulebook.”

“You have experience in an army?”

“I was in the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, 2nd Marine Division.”

“A battalion? How many men is that?”

“About two dozen. The whole division was about twenty thous... uh, let me see... twelve cubed is about seventeen hundred, so the division would be about, um, about a dozen grand dozens”

Somphone’s eyes grew wider.

“And that’s the second division, so there are others...”

“I was in the Marines. The United States also has the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force... I don’t know total, but I’d figure at least a dozen times that. Probably more.”

“And you’ve fought wars between armies of that size?”

“Yes. We won two of them, the World Wars. And the world is still not at peace.”

“No, it never is, no matter how many die,” sighed Somphone. “We would never have need of an army of that size... I cannot comprehend how you could.”

“We did,” said TT. “In any case, though, I was in recon, which specializes in reconnaissance and surveillance. We are all trained in CQB—close quarters battle—tactics, and we all have various specializations. The unit’s badge reads ‘Swift Silent Deadly,’ which pretty much sums up most of our missions.”

“If we had a badge, it might have the same words... What was your specialization?”

“I was a sniper, and jumped out of airpla... airships.”

“You can fly?”

“Of course not. Just float to the ground safely with a ’chute. A parachute, sorta like a kite.” TT thought for a minute. “Have to look into those, too... something to talk to Jake about...”

Somphone turned to Roach.

“Are you ready to go on?”

Roach, who had been listening to their conversation intently, nodded.

“Well, then, you still have a few kilometers to run,” said Somphone.

Roach stood, and Somphone helped him put the basket on.

The three of them began jogging down the trail.

They stopped for brief rests several more times before they got back to the village, but even with the breaks Roach was ready to collapse with exhaustion.

“I must dispatch a dragolet, but will join you at the bath later,” said Somphone, excusing himself.

The two of them walked to the bath—actually a hot spring some distance in the woods, which ran down to empty into the stream running through the village.

There were already a few other villagers there, soaking away the day’s aches.

Lao was there, washing a long cut in a woman’s hand.

“We must wash out the najasat,” he said, pouring hot spring water over the wound after unwrapping the bandage.”

“What is najasat, Healer?” asked TT.

“It’s a term Physician ibn Sina uses: impure substances. He believes that infection is not caused by miasma, but by tiny seeds. Washing the wound can cleanse it of these seeds.”

“Germs, you mean.”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could call them germs. Seed, germ, same thing.”

“You’ve never heard of germ theory...”

“Of what?”

“I see I have a lot more work to do here than I thought,” used TT. “Healer Lao, you and I need to have a long talk. And I need to talk to Nolan Geiszler real soon.”

“Master Geiszler is one of your fellows?”

“A biologist, but also a physician. There is so much he can teach you.”

“He knows how to kill these ‘germs’ you speak of?”

“And far more,” assured TT. “For now, though, I strongly suggest washing wounds like water that has been boiled. Unboiled water may contain germs—uh, seeds—and infect the wound. Boiled water is sterile, and will not introduce new germs.”

Lao nodded slowly.

“That would explain several things we’ve noticed over the years, if true...”

“Oh, it’s true. Nolan will tell you. In fact, if I had a decent microscope I could show you!”

“I have a microscope.”

“I’ve seen the microscopes here; they are not much better than magnifiers,” snorted TT. “Believe me, they can be made much, much better.”

“Better magnifying lens, you mean? Well, the King has glassblowers and artisans, of course... or is it some type of magic?”

“No, no, not magic. Just glass lenses, but they magnify far more than a hand-held magnifier.”

Lao finished drying the woman’s hand, spread a salve on it, and bandaged it once more.

“Healer Lao, why aren’t there any eyeglasses in the Dreamlands? You have magnifying lenses, surely eyeglasses are a simple step.”

“Superstition,” he said. “Just superstition.

“The slaves of the moon-toads, who live on the dark side of the moon, usually wear goggles to protect their eyes from the noxious vapors of the Moonsea... and those goggles closely resemble eyeglasses. Too closely for most people to accept, I’m afraid, although magnifying glasses are common, and monocles can be seen now and again.”

Soaking in the hot water, TT thought there was no point fighting superstition, and brought up another question he had wondered about.

“Healer, what do people do with dead bodies here?”

“Whatever they like, really... some religions specify how they are to be buried or cremated or left to the eagles or whatever, but usually a Godsworn of Nath-Horthath calls the sacred fire,” he said, stepping into the water to join the others.

“Some sort of funeral pyre, you mean?”

“No, Nath-Horthath consumes the flesh, leaving only the soulstone.”

“Soulstone?”

“The soul, the spirit of the dead. It is captured in a small gem. The Godsworn shatter the gem to release the soul, or it would remain trapped there forever.”

Jake digested that for a moment. He didn’t understand what a soulstone might be, but he approved of pyres as a way of getting rid of bodies.

“And have you dissected a cadaver?”

“Yes, as a student years ago.”

“At some medical university?”

“Oh, goodness no. There is no such thing,” smiled Lao. “When I was an apprentice.”

“Hmm. So nobody gets upset if you dissect dead people?”

“Well, I imagine their relatives might, but not most people...”

“What about most people?” asked Somphone, walking into the clearing.

TT explained what they’d been talking about.

“Reeve Somphone, Healer Lao, we need to talk. And I think I’ll need a dragolet, too.

The three of them talked until late that night, and another dragolet left for Celephaïs with dawn.

TT continued to push himself, the pain in his abdomen slowly subsiding.

He began writing down what he remembered of the Marine physical fitness regimen, and thinking about how to replicate it here.

Two days after the run with Roach, a youngish Captain Rutger of Celephaïs arrived on horseback. He reminded TT of an embedded German reporter who’d been on a mission with him back in ’Nam. Probably in his early thirties, blue eyes, hair chopped short, a little gold eagle hanging from one earlobe, very little chitchat and even less humor.

TT had lunch at the Reeve’s hut that day, with Captain Rutger, Healer Lao, and of course the Reeve himself. He explained the physical fitness program, and fielded questions as well as he could. The biggest problem was that the military here in the Dreamlands had women in combat roles, too, and while there were exceptions, in general man were bigger and stronger than women.

His fitness programs were designed for men, and women might have a tough time passing some of the upper-body strength tests.

On the other hand, a lot of the tests were originally designed to answer the needs of 20^th-century mechanized combat: lifting heavy ammo boxes or shells, crawling under barbed wire, digging foxholes... They didn’t have modern weaponry here, so no need to consider rifles, or machine guns, or tanks. Barbed wire might be useful, though.

In melee combat a taller combatant would enjoy a slight advantage over a shorter one, due to longer reach, but the Dreamlands had been fighting for centuries, and if the women had held their own thus far, apparently there was not that much real difference in combat ability between the sexes. When he asked, Somphone said that most fighting forces had twenty to thirty percent women, but that it could vary widely. Upper body strength seemed to matter here, too, then: on average men were stronger than women. The implication was that female fighters could be expected to be stronger than the average woman, better fighters than the average of either sex... or both.

They drew up a preliminary fitness plan, and then moved on to discuss small-unit tactics. With scattered exceptions, most combat in the Dreamlands was either loosely controlled melee, or siege, and the idea of a small, highly trained, tightly integrated unit on a specific tactical mission was historically rare. There were a few reasonably large armies that had developed the use of tactical formations, such as the Eudoxia’s calvary, but most governments were cities, not large nations.

Much of TT’s expertise and experience was built on modern firepower and less applicable to the Dreamlands, but as a student of history and a survivor of Vietcong creativity, he could still contribute considerably.

Captain Rutger turned out to be far more experienced than TT had suspected from his age, fighting in both individual battles and mass actions for fifteen or twenty years. He was reticent to discuss it in detail, but as they discussed tactics and missions it became obvious that he’d seen plenty of action.

TT described some of the missions he’d been on in Vietnam and Korea, and while helis and boats were the norm for insertion and extraction, and M-16s and explosives played big parts, there was still a lot left. Rutger was especially interested in advance planning, practice run-throughs, communications, task assignment and redundancy, and combining mission control with flexibility.

It turned out that while there was an established unarmed combat program, it was not as comprehensive as what TT had mastered. They decided to hold some practice bouts soon to see just how different the two approaches were, and how much they could learn.

It turned out that the King’s Guard was rarely involved in anything larger than one-on-one combat, because their primary responsibility was protecting the King. The city Watch, a far more relaxed organization, was actually in charge of defending the city of Celephaïs, although the King’s Guard was higher up the ladder and could—and sometimes did—insist on improvements. TT noticed that Rutger avoided answering a few questions directly, but didn’t press the issue.

Somphone, meanwhile, had never been in a large combat, and rarely in combat at all. He’d been picked by Mochizuki at an early age and trained as primarily a spy, collecting information to feed back to the Council. His face, however had finally become known to too many people, and now he was out of the field and in charge of training at Farlaway.

He placed far more importance on stealth, gymnastic ability, eyesight, and hearing, than on sheer physical strength like Rutger, but TT was impressed at how the two men recognized their different priorities and worked together to address both.

This clearly was not a one-size-fits-all situation, and TT didn’t really fit in, either. Even so, they identified a lot of points of interest, and TT was found working with the two of them enormously exciting.

He also wanted to cover a lot of the emergency first aid he was trained in. Whether a limb was blown off by an explosion or cut off by a sword, you put on the torniquet the same way, and these people had some weird beliefs when it came to disease. He figured he could clear some of them up, and that would pay off later when there were fewer deaths from injury or sickness.

It was the first time he’d felt that he was actually doing something worthwhile since he came to the Dreamlands.

>Chapter 7

“I want to check out the high forest, up by Goat Crag,” said Captain Beghara. “None of the patrols have been through there in about a week, and it’s time for another look-though.”

“Sure, Captain,” nodded Sergeant Pouyan. “We’re all ready to go.”

Beghara looked over her twelve. The Commander had made her a captain, nominally an equal to Captain Long, her former superior, and now she had her own people to worry about. Mostly new faces, although she and Nnamdi had been together for years under Captain Feng.

They’d been on the rotation for a couple weeks now, handling fort defense, near patrols, or one-night longer-range patrols, along with the other three twelves. Nadeen, in charge of fort defense, spent more time there, but she took her twelve out on patrols, too... everyone needed to learn the local terrain, and walking through it two or three times a week was one way to do it.

She wondered how Pouyan would work out. He was from Pungar Vees, about thirty of so, and seemed to know how to handle things. Still, she’d made it clear that assignments were temporary for another few weeks, and had shuffled a few people around to make sure everyone understood.

They’d never really know what someone was made of until they’d been in battle.

She’d thought of making Nnamdi her sergeant, in charge of the other six, but had finally decided to let Pouyan handle it. Pouyan already had experience leading a six, and she knew from their time together under Captain Feng that Nnamdi was not a terribly imaginative guy.

Besides, Nnamdi was good support for her.

The other troopers in her six were Goraksh, newly hired from Shiroora Shan; Nurbolat, one of the four Ibizim who had just joined the Commander’s force; Yoruba, a young woman archer from Zar; and Girardus, an eager and perhaps overconfident man from Daikos.

Sergeant Pouyan’s six was entirely people new to her, and Pouyan would be as likely to hammer them into a good team as she would.

She worked with Pouyan to be sure they were on the same page, but let him pretty much handle the details.

They set out from the postern, heading across the fields and into the forest.

The weather was nice today, warm but with a stiff breeze that would keep them cool. As they climbed up the slopes it might even get chilly.

Once they were across the fields—kept clear of obstacles for defensive purposes, too—the forest began. It was a mixture of cedars and various broadleafs, and pretty densely packed in places. There were trails running through it, of course, and she had the sergeant take his six down a different trail. They’d meet up at a small waterfall a few kilometers away.

They fanned out when they could, but the trees pushed in on the trail here and there, forcing them into single file at times. She took point herself for now, with Nurbolat, the Ibizim, on the tail. He was very young, but Yargui said he was far more experienced than his age might suggest—he was only twenty.

Beghara had her eye on him as possible sergeant material. She still wasn’t sure how Pouyan would work out, and she was considering putting Nurbolat in as sergeant of the second six. It would probably upset Pouyan, but having the strongest possible six was the overriding goal.

They were carrying overnight packs, although they expected to be back at the fort by nightfall. If something happened, they had enough food with them for three meals each. Water wouldn’t be a problem here; plenty of little mountain streams.

They all carried their own drinking water, of course.

Beghara noticed that Nurbolat added vinegar to his water every day, or a little “off” wine. It was an old tradition, and while she didn’t follow it herself, it suggested Nurbolat had been around.

She had assigned everyone to pairs a few weeks ago, and let them rearrange to suit themselves as time passed. She herself paired with Nnamdi by unspoken agreement—they’d been together a long time.

Pairing up meant watching each other’s back.

They walked silently, listening to the sounds of the forest... the birds nearby all fell silent as they passed, of course, but the important part was to listen to the birds farther away. If they suddenly quieted or burst up into an explosion of squawking and feathers something was wrong.

It might be a hungry lynx, or it might be someone else wandering the forest... in which case they wanted to know who and why.

After an hour or so they reached the base of the waterfall. The stream splashed down the rock face from a couple dozen meters higher on the mountain, forming a deep, dark green pool before rushing off downhill.

As they were just setting their packs down for a rest and getting a drink, Sergeant Pouyan showed up with his own six.

“You made good time, Sergeant,” said Beghara. “Usually that trail takes a good ten or fifteen minutes longer.”

“I decided we needed a little exercise to stay warm,” he responded. “Upped the pace a bit.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Nope. Didn’t see anything unusual.”

“Relax, have a drink.”

“Captain.”

He nodded and waved to his six to take a break.

Nobody looked winded or tired, Beghara noticed. Good.

She pulled out her telescope and scanned over the fields stretching out below, and then turned to the flanks of the facing mountains.

Nurbolat pointed to one of the peaks.

“Movement over there, looks like at least six, eight people.”

Beghara hurriedly turned the telescope to where she was pointing, hunted a bit, and... found them.

“That’s Seri. Sergeant Serilarinna of Captain Long’s twelve,” she said. “They must be on the way back now.”

Captain Long had left on a long patrol the day before yesterday, deeper into the mountains.

“You’ve good eyesight to spot them,” said Beghara. “See anything else?”

“Actually, yes...” said Nurbolat. “I’ve seen something flash twice now, on a different mountain, and was trying to get a better look.”

“Where?”

“There’s a chance somebody is watching us through a telescope, and if I point them out it might spook them. Suppose you and I walk off into the bushes, those over there... Good cover, and I have to take a piss anyway.”

Beghara grunted, and started walking over toward the bushes, leaving her sword and pack where they were. Pretty obviously she was planning on returning.

Nurbolat waited a bit, then walked off toward some bushes in a different direction.

Once hidden in the underbrush, he quickly trotted to where Beghara waited.

“Over there,” he said, pointing. “See that whitish slash on the mountain? Follow up it, and then just a bit to the right, where those rocks are...”

She followed his finger, slowly scanning with the telescope. The sun was behind them; she had no worry of being spotted at this distance and in the shade.

Yes, something was moving.

It was hard to make out clearly.

She handed the telescope to Nurbolat.

“Here, you try. With your eyes you should be able to count their freckles.”

He held it to his eye, standing motionless as her watched.

“Two... no, three. Two men, one woman. Can’t see if they’re armed or not, but one of the men has a shield strapped to his back.”

“Any mark on the shield?”

“Blank.”

Anyone might decide to climb a mountain and enjoy the view, thought Beghara, but it would be rather silly to strap a heavy shield to your back while doing it.

“Somebody’s scouting the fort,” she said.

“Looks that way, Captain.”

“We’ve never been up there... certainly can’t scale the mountain right under their noses!”

“They must have gotten there somehow. There must be an easier access from the back, somewhere we can’t see.”

“OK, rejoin the twelve. You’re a man; makes sense you’d be done quicker. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Nurbolat nodded, and trotted back to where he entered the brush, then stepped back into the clearing.

After a minute Beghara returned, too, and explained what they’d seen.

“Everybody act normal, and do not look up the mountain,” she said as she put her ruck back on. “Act as if we’ve finished our rest, and are setting off on the next part of the patrol.

“I’m going first because I’m changing the route a little, so we can get back into the forest.”

Everybody began getting ready to move out, acting mostly normal. Any furtive glances toward the mountain would be very unlikely to be visible from above.

They got under way in good order, walking into the trees as if to circle around the mountain.

Once they were safely hidden, Beghara halted.

“Girardus, Biming, you two are the mountain men, right? Think you can climb that?”

She pointed back at the mountain they’d just walked away from.

They studied the mountain through the leaves.

“I think I could, but not with enemies above me,” said Girardus.

“They’d just knock us off,” agreed Biming, one of Pouyan’s troopers.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” said Beghara. “If they have plenty of rope they might be able to get down from there, but that’s a pretty long drop... I can’t believe there are that many routes to reach that spot.”

“You know,...” said Nurbolat slowly, “up past Goat Crag, about halfway to that kestrel nest we saw, there was a pretty good cleft running up the side of the mountain... I didn’t pay it much attention at the time because it didn’t go anywhere, but I wonder...”

“Hmm, yeah, I think I remember that,” said Pouyan. “But just that one, as I recall... it stood out because it was a single black shadow in the rock.”

“Yes! That must be it,” agreed Beghara. “I remember it myself!

“OK, Sergeant Pouyan, you, Yoruba, and two more troopers stay hidden for now, but keep an eye on them. The rest of us will swing around and try to get to them from behind. Yoruba’s our best archer, and can pick them off while they’re climbing down, if it comes to that.

“The objective is to capture, not kill. I want to know who they work for and what information they’ve passed already.

“Rashn, you’re the fastest one here, I think.”

He nodded. Only nineteen, the young man had proven his speed numerous times.

“I want you to link up with Sergeant Serilarinna, and Captain Long if he’s with them. Fill them in on everything, and suggest they swing around to cover. I do not want these spies to escape, and there might be more of them hiding somewhere. Go!”

Rashn nodded and trotted deeper into the forest, heading to intercept Sergeant Serilarinna as her six descended from the pass a little farther to the east.

“Yoruba, Dhaval, Karlu, with me,” said Sergeant Pouyan.

“The rest of you, let’s go,” commanded Beghara, and started off toward the trial leading up and around the back of the mountain.

The rest of the twelve followed.

They could only stay in the shelter of the trees for about a kilometer, and then had to start climbing more directly toward the mountain, and out into the open.

If they were lucky the observers would have given up on them and returned to watching the fort, or possibly Seri’s six, and miss them completely. If they were unlucky, the post would be deserted by the time they got there... or they’d walk into a trap.

“Keep out of sight as much as you can,” she warned. “Not much we can do when there aren’t any rocks to hide behind, but keep it in mind. Let’s get across this open space and around to Goat Crag and that cleft as quick as we can.”

They broke into a ragged run, scrabbling and leaping across the broken rock field, and cleared the open area in about five minutes. Now they were hidden behind the mountain itself, invisible from above—or so they hoped.

They continued trotting up the trail toward Goat Crag, a towering upthrust of rock that was both impossible to overlook and easy to remember. They’d seen a mountain goat on it their first time through, and the name had stuck.

Beghara kept the speed up, now that they were on mostly clean, open rock and didn’t have to worry about being spotted.

They reached the bottom of the cleft in about fifteen minutes.

“Sit down, drink, catch your breath,” advised Beghara.

She studied the cleft, which ran up quite a distance. Fairly wide at the bottom, it narrowed into a chimney about a dozen meters up, relatively easy to climb.

“Anyone see any sign that this is where they climbed?”

Biming pointed to a spike sticking out of the rock wall, about a dozen meters up.

“Right there. Not much reason to put a piton there unless you want to climb it,” he said.

“Good eyes, thanks. OK, but just to be sure, Biming, I want you and Girardus to scout ’round the mountain and make sure there aren’t any other routes up.

Biming and Girardus, both young men from mountainous regions, continued on around the mountain... she figured it would take them at least another hour to complete the circuit, and as long to get back to her with the results.

Beghara figured there couldn’t be much room up there, which meant they probably couldn’t carry up many supplies. Somebody would be along with fresh supplies soon, and a new group of observers, she thought.

“The rest of you, look around and find a good place to wait. The watchers might come down, and new ones might come at any time. I want to be out of sight but ready to take them on whenever they show up.”

There was some debris nearby, boulders and loose rock piled up over the centuries, with a few scraggly trees growing here and there. The trail continued farther into the mountains, no doubt leading over one of the several passes to eventually reach the Eastern Desert—Thuba Mleen’s domain.

They moved a few rocks around to improve the natural camouflage, and set up camp. No fire, of course, but it was summer. The biggest problem was that they only had enough food for one meal, but they could put that off for a day or so, until Sergeant Serilarinna showed up.

“Krik, you and Nurbolat scout the trail a little. Look around for a better place to set up an ambush, and a better place to see if somebody’s coming from that direction.”

They set off, Nurbolat taking point and young Krik—a Teloth swordswoman in her mid-twenties—content to let her take charge. Nurbolat was four or five years younger than she, but made decisions and took action promptly. Once again, Beghara felt he’d seen a lot of action.

A few hours later she had more information... Nurbolat and Krik had failed to find a good ambush site, but did find a usable lookout spot that would give them ten minutes or so of warning. Beghara assigned Nurbolat and Nnamdi to take the first watch there. Goraksh would relieve Nurbolat that night, and Girardus relieve Nnamdi the next morning.

Girardus and Biming had completed their survey of the mountain, and agreed this chimney was the only way up. The piton suggested they were right, but they could be getting there by airship, too... Beghara thought that was unlikely, because of the chance an airship would be spotted from the fort, but it was possible.

Sergeant Serilarinna showed up in the evening. Her six had been walking a lot faster than Rashn was expected, and he missed them at first, then had to race to catch up when he noticed. They were all a little unhappy at having to retrace their steps back into the mountain, especially when they had been looking forward to a night back at the fort, but once they heard about the spies on the mountain they stopped griping and turned toward the waterfall.

Beghara, including Sergeant Seilarinna’s six, now had fourteen fighters at hand, and Sergeant Pouyan and three more troopers keeping watch at the base of the waterfall.

Fourteen should be enough, she figured, and once she brought Seri up to speed on the situation, she agreed.

Seri’s troopers didn’t have much food left, either, but they decided to sit tight until tomorrow morning, at least, and see what happened. Beghara sent Kassandros and Mahud, both from Seri’s twelve, back to the fort to fill them in on what was happening, and arrange for some food to be brought up here tomorrow morning, taking care not to be seen.

The hiding place at the base of the chimney wasn’t very large, so Beghara and Nurbolat stayed there, while Sei and the others moved farther back down the trail, into the woods nearer the waterfall, where there was room to lie down and sleep.

Neither Beghara nor Seri expected anyone to be using that chimney in the dark—it would be suicide—but things might happen the next morning.

It was a chilly night without a fire.

Beghara and Seri were up with the sun, and even Dhaval, famous for sleeping late, was moving within minutes. Few of them had slept very well in the night’s cold, but things were warming up quickly now that the sun was rising.

Captain Long and his six, led by Kassandros and Mahud, arrived less than an hour later. Packing food, bedrolls, and a few other things, they were also armed and ready for a fight... and now their force numbered a full two dozen, although Sergeant Pouyan and his troopers were still watching the waterfall. Captain Beghara agreed to let him take full command for the time being.

They decided to send Sergeant Serilarinna and her six a little farther into the mountains. They hadn’t been able to find a good spot for an ambush, but there were a number of places to hide... and once anyone had passed their position, they could block their retreat easily enough, catching them in a vice between themselves and the remaining, larger force.

Then, snoozing in the morning warmth with full bellies, they waited.

Shortly before noon Goraksh came running with word: half a dozen fighters on horses approaching. Word had already been passed to Sergeant Serilarinna and her six; they would be ready.

Captain Long got everyone ready and checked to be sure they were all out of sight... they were holding a cramped, painful position behind insufficient cover, but they only needed to hold it for a few minutes, and once the approaching group got close enough they could spring their trap.

Biming was very good with a bow, and Captain Long had two skilled archers in his own six: Lau Hu, and Nafiz of Zulan-Thek. The three of them were positioned a ways back, and higher, so they would be protected from melee and still able to shoot freely.

Six horses ambled into view, the one in front being led by a man walking alongside. They were all dressed in rough clothing, without insignia, but well-armed. Clearly not a hunting party.

The leader suddenly halted, crouched, and looked around, sensing something.

“Now!”

They burst from concealment, weapons drawn, startling men and horses alike.

The last rider, a woman, spun her horse and kicked it to flee back in the direction they’d come from, but hauled on the reins and stopped suddenly, horse rearing, when Seri and two of her troopers blocked her retreat.

The men on horseback drew their weapons, drawing their mounts closer together for defense.

“We have archers, too,” said Long, gesturing in their direction. “Surrender, and you will live this day.”

“Who are you to attack me?” cried the leader, a grizzled man holding two swords at the ready.

“Long of Ophir.”

“You have quite a reputation around the Hills of Noor, Captain,” said the man. “I be Kareem of Perinthia.”

“And you are sworn to Thuba Mleen?”

“We are.”

“Do you yield?”

“I have your word?”

“You do.”

Kareem slowly lowered his swords, looking around at the surrounding force, and the archers, standing at ready. He could fight, and no doubt kill some of the enemy, but the outcome was clear: they would die nonetheless.

He dropped his swords and stepped forward toward Captain Long.

“On your word, I surrender myself and my force.”

The remaining five slowly followed suit, dismounting, dropping their weapons, and standing silently while Long’s troopers approached. Each called out his or her name and city. Goraksh looked up when one of the men named himself, and walked over to him.

“M’taka of Gak, you said... are you the same M’taka of Gak who attacked Zulan-Thek some eight years ago?”

The man cocked his head.

“Probably, what of it?”

“You murderer! You killed my family!” shouted Goraksh, sword tip trembling with suppressed fury.

“Goraksh, stop! Step back, now!” commanded Beghara, but it was too late.

Goraksh thrust, and the man, unarmed, stumbled backwards to evade, but Goraksh was too close: his sword plunged deep into the man’s side. He screamed, clutched his side, toppled, and pandemonium erupted.

“Goraksh!”

Kareem leapt for his swords, and the clash of blades broke out.

Kareem and Captain Long traded blows for a few seconds until one of the women who had come with Kareem suddenly screamed in pain, and fell with an arrow through her chest.

Another arrow narrowly missed Kareem himself as he ducked out of the way.

“Hold!” shouted Captain Long. “Back off!”

After a few seconds the two groups separated, leaving two of Kareem’s troopers on the ground along with Khentimentiu of Khem, one of Captain Long’s men.

Beghara grabbed Goraksh by the tunic, pulling him away from the others and slamming him back against a boulder. She clamped her other hand around his throat, pinning him.

“Captain Long gave his word!”

“I never gave mine! They’re all monsters, every one of them,” spit Goraksh.

“They may be, but you never do that after we’ve given our word. Never! Any problem with that, Goraksh?”

“They killed my brother, my ma!”

“We’re warriors; we kill people too. Now shut up,” snapped Beghara. “Captain Long, I suggest we leave judgment to the Commander. How say you?”

Long still had his sword half-raised, facing enemy Kareem with a few meters between them.

“Kareem of Perinthia, my bond has been broken, but not by me. I promise you justice. Do you yield?”

Kareem slowly lowered his swords.

“We yield.”

He dropped them on the ground.

“May I see to my wounded?”

“Of course.” Long turned to the others. “Weapons down! They have yielded, and are our prisoners.”

The two groups slowly increased the distance between them, and weapons were dropped to the ground or sheathed, depending on which side the fighter was on.

Captain Long knelt over Khentimentiu. He’d taken a chop to the neck, and was dead from the blow and massive blood loss.

Of Kareem’s casualties, M’taka was alive but clearly dying, and the woman—Beth of Arizim, she had said—had an arrow just under her armpit. It had missed her lung, apparently, but it would have to be taken out very carefully.

Long sent a party to cut wood from the trees down close to the waterfall, agreeing with Kareem to carry the dead and wounded back to the fort on travois. Their final disposition would depend on the Commander, he explained.

Suddenly, he recalled the observation post...

“Biming, get up there and tell them Kareem and their relief has been captured, and ask them to surrender. If they don’t surrender within five minutes, I will leave a guard force here and kill them as they come down.

“No negotiation; those are the terms.”

Biming wormed his way up the chimney without too much difficulty, not bothering with a rope. About two dozen meters up he transferred to a ledge running toward the front face of the mountain, and cautiously edged along it, and around the curve of the mountain.

They could hear him shouting, words echoing and garbled to incoherency, but couldn’t hear any response.

After a few minutes he shuffled back into view, and behind him came three more figures.

Under the watching eyes of the archers, all four descended the chimney, and now Captain Long had more captives to care for.

Goraksh was also a captive, hands bound and eyes glaring with hate at the others. Beghara kept him on a short rope, literally.

A short while later, wounded and bodies lying on horse-drawn travois rough-cut from saplings, the party started down the trial back to the fort.

They reached the fort in the early afternoon, to be greet by Jake and Nadeen, with most of the fort’s occupants looking on.

The wounded were taken to the church and administered to as well as they could. M’taka, the man Goraksh had attacked, died on the way, but Beth was alive and would probably survive, now that the arrow was out. As long as the wound didn’t get infected she would probably pull through.

Jake gave instructions to keep her under guard, but to do everything possible to heal the wound.

Also under guard was Goraksh. The problem was not that he’d killed one of Thuba Mleen’s fighters—that was what they were hired to do, after all—but that he’d killed one after Captain Long had given his word that they would “live this day.”

M’ taka hadn’t, and while Long hadn’t broken his word himself, it had been broken, and he had been in charge.

Jake was a lot more sensitive to how enemy combatants were treated, with strong convictions based on his time in the Australian armed forces. Here in the Dreamlands things were a lot less complicated, but simultaneously someone’s bond—their word—was almost supremely important.

Jake met with his captains immediately.

First off, they decided to make regular observations of that aerie, to ensure that no new spies set up shop there. It would be easier if they had an airship, but now that knew where to look it shouldn’t be too hard to prevent any recurrence. They’d have to improve patrols throughout that area, though.

The next question was how to handle the prisoners, and Goraksh.

He had his own ideas, of course, but they were more familiar with how things were done here, and he was thinking of the reputation of his whole command.

The captains thought it more important to deal with Goraksh first, and agreed immediately that he should be punished. Danny and Nadeen recommended that he be whipped and kicked out; Long and Beghara wanted him executed.

The argument raged, primarily fueled by Captain Long’s anger and refusal to bend.

Jake sat in silence.

True, the death penalty was on the books in the Australian army, too, but it was only applied in exceptional circumstances. Then again, killing a prisoner was just about as horrific as you could get, short of murdering innocent civilians.

“Suppose we ask Kareem to decide,” suggested Jake. “And if he chooses execution, so be it... Goraksh’s blood will not be on our hands.”

They looked at him in shock.

“Goraksh is one of ours! To let an enemy kill one of our own troopers...!” gasped Captain Long, shocked at the suggestion. “I will execute him myself, and Kareem shall stand witness,” he said. “I will remain your captain or not at your command, but I will have his head.”

Danny nodded.

“I’m sorry, Commander, but I must agree with Captain Long. It is his bond that has been broken.”

Nadeen remained silent, Jake noticed. She probably agreed, but stayed silent for his benefit, he thought.

Jake sighed. He wasn’t in Kansas anymore, he reminded himself for the millionth time.

“So be it. Captain Long, you may proceed. And the other prisoners?”

“Question them, and if they give bond, release them,” said Nadeen, glad to be moving onto a different subject.

“You are willing to kill one of your own, but not the enemy!?”

“Commander, if they give bond and later take up swords against us, their own fellows would kill them,” explained Danny. “No army wants a bond-breaker in it...”

“And they would do the same for us? One of those bastards almost killed TT, remember... so you’re saying if they promise not to hurt me, I should believe them?”

They looked at each other in surprise.

“Well, yes, of course!” said Captain Long. “To break one’s bond...!”

Jake rubbed his stomach again, took another sip of tea. Didn’t help.

“My apologies; I’m yet unused to your ways. So be it.”

He stood, straightened his shoulders.

“Gather everyone in the front practice area: troops, staff, prisoners, everyone.”

“What about the villagers?” asked Nadeen.

“They are irrelevant,” he said flatly. “Captain Danryce, you are to guard the prisoners. All the prisoners.”

The front practice area, located between the postern and the church building, was where they practiced arms regularly. It was hard dirt, stamped flat by countless sandals and boots.

Jake stood at ease, arms crossed behind his back, watching as they came.

The troops naturally fell into ranks by sixes, behind their sergeants or captains, even Ridhi’s staff. Danny’s own six stood on guard behind the prisoners—they were all there, except for Beth, who watched through the hollow church window.

Once they were assembled, Jake stepped forward, and looked over the assembly silently.

Nobody spoke.

“One of our fellows, Trooper Goraksh, stands accused today,” he said quietly. “Captain Danryce, bring the accused forward.”

Danny signed to Yargui to accompany him, and they brought Goraksh up in front of Jake. His hands were loosely tied together with a piece of rope: certainly not enough to stop him from escaping, if he wanted to, but enough to make it clear just what his position here was.

Jake motioned to bring him around to the side a little, so the assembly could see both his face and Goraksh’s face clearly.

“Captain Beghara, did you give Trooper Goraksh a clear order to halt his attack on the prisoners after they had surrendered?”

“I did, Commander,” said Beghara in a loud, clear voice.

“Trooper Goraksh, did you hear the prisoners surrender?”

Goraksh mumbled something inaudible.

“Speak clearly, Trooper Goraksh!”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did you hear Captain Beghara order you to stop your attack on the disarmed prisoner?”

“Yes, I did. But he was a murderer! He murdered my brother and—”

“Silence! Trooper Goraksh, you say your piece in a moment.”

Goraksh slammed his mouth shut and squared his shoulders to stare straight at Jake.

“At that time, did you realize that Captain Long was in command?”

Silence.

“Answer the question, Trooper Goraksh.”

“Yes. Captain Beghara yielded command to him.”

“So at the time of your attack, Captain Long was your superior officer, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess so...”

“Yes or no, Trooper.”

“Yes!”

“And did Captain Long give his bond that the prisoners would be unharmed if they surrendered?”

“Yeah...”

“And yet you killed one of them, M’taka.”

“Damn right I killed that fucker! Commander.” He said the last word with a sneer.

“Do you have anything to say in your defense, Trooper Goraksh?”

“Yeah, I have plenty to say. That bastard killed my family, and torched half of Zulan-Thek. He deserved to die! And so do all the rest of Thuba Mleen’s scum!”

He spit toward the other prisoners, who were watching expressionlessly.

“Anything else?”

“What’s the point? Yeah, I ignored an order and killed the son of a bitch. Get on with it.”

“Trooper Goraksh, on the charge of ignoring the command of your superior officer to halt your assault, I find you guilty. The sentence is to be flogged three times.

“On the charge of breaking Captain Long’s bond, I find you guilty. The sentence is death.”

Even the breeze stopped at that. Nobody moved a muscle, took a breath.

A second later, Captain Long stood, walking toward Goraksh while pulling his sword from its sheath.

“No, Captain Long. You are the injured party here, but I am in command. This trooper broke his word to me, and as Commander it is my responsibility to rectify the error, not yours.”

He removed his pistol from his belt, and without seeming to take aim, fired one shot directly between Goraksh’s eyes.

Danny and Yargui jumped back in shock as Goraksh was thrown backward to tumble to the dirt. The assembled troopers and others jumped as well—most of them had seen noisy, clumsy muskets, but had never seen a modern pistol fired... or a man executed by one.

Jake slowly lowered his pistol, turned to the prisoners.

“Kareem of Perinthia, does this settle the debt?”

Kareem tore his eyes from Goraksh’s body to look at Jake, and suddenly the sounds of the world returned: wind, breathing, shuffling, mutters, and gasps.

“I... Yes, Commander. The debt is settled.”

Jake nodded, and looked back toward the assembly.

“Dismissed!”

He turned and walked slowly back to the church building, and past the entrance, continuing on to his quarters.

Everybody stayed in formation until he was out of sight.

Chapter 8

“Would you like to keep one?” asked Chóng, watching the scientist excitedly scribbling notes while observing the hatching raptors. “If you raise it, it will bond to you just like a dog. Of course, you’ll have to train it like a dog, too, or you’ll be in for some interesting times once it grows up.”

Nolan Geiszler stopped writing for a moment and looked up. He pushed his eyeglasses back up his nose so he could see Chóng clearly.

“I can have one?”

“Sure, if you’ll promise to take proper care of it. Once you take it, you’re responsible for it all the way.”

“Oh, wow! I’d love that!” Nolan looked back at the hatching eggs. “Oh, there’s another egg-tooth. Looks like most of them are going to hatch today.”

“Might be, it’s nice and sunny today. If you want one, grab it now and feed it some of this,” agreed Chóng, holding out a platter of raw meat. “Take a piece of meat and chew it, then give it to him. You want to get him used to your smell, and receiving food from you.”

Nolan picked up one of the baby raptors with his hand, wincing as tiny fangs clamped onto his finger. He stroked its head to relax it, but made no effort to pull his finger out of its mouth.

“I suggest you feed it the meat,” urged Chóng. “Blood is the traditional way to bond a raptor, but it has its risks.”

Nolan picked up a gobbet of meat and waved it in front of the raptor’s nose. It followed the swinging meat for a moment, then apparently made up its mind and released his finger, darting its neck forward to grab the meat and swallow it instantly.

Nolan reached for more meat, hoping to keep it from trying another finger.

It ate the whole plate in record time, and slumped down in his hand, belly bulging.

Chóng’s people had picked up the rest of the hatchlings and were busy feeding them. There were still a few unhatched eggs left, one with a tear in it from the raptor’s egg-tooth, but no emergence.

Chóng waved to one of the raptor trainers, and she picked up the remaining eggs, carrying them off to the pigpen.

“You’re not going to kill them!?”

“Of course we are. They’d never survive in the wild, and there’s no point in trying to raise them here. They’re runts, or dead already.”

Nolan fell silent.

Nature was a deadly mistress, and he understood how important “survival of the fittest” was, but... it felt wrong.

He sighed.

The Dreamlands were a wonderful place to be a biologist, but he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

The hatchling in his hand burped gently.

“So blood’s the traditional way?”

“If you travel to the mountains of Zan, or Zobna, you’ll still see wyver-masters missing fingers. A chief I knew there years ago had only a thumb and one finger on each hand.”

“Wyver-master? What’s that?”

“Wyverns. Two-legged winged dragons.”

“Are they dinosaurs?”

“Not deinos, wyverns. Like dragolets, but big enough to ride. Haven’t seen any in a long, long time, though.”

Wyverns. Flying dragons!

“How long does it take to get to Zobna?”

“Oh, you could get there in a week or two, but I doubt you’d survive long once you did,” laughed Chóng. “They do not take to outsiders.”

“Can I get close enough to see one, at least?”

Chóng thought for a bit.

“I doubt it, but let me see. The northlands can be difficult.”

“Thank you, Factor, that’d be great! I’ve loved flying dragons since I was a kid... Wow! So they really exist...!”

“If you’re going to raise that hatchling you’ll need a basket,” said Chóng. He waved one of the raptor trainers over and told him to bring one. “Keep it with you all the time, and for goodness’ sake make sure you have lots of meat or fish with you—dried or smoked meat is fine, too.”

“Thank you, Factor. I’ll take good care of him. Or her. Kinda hard to tell with little lizards.”

“The basket is only good for a short while, you know. They grow very quickly.”

The trainer came back with a picnic-sized basket, made of woven reed and with a reed lid that could be locked in place. “Master Hue, Master Nolan is going to raise this one himself. Work with him and make sure he gets it trained properly.”

“Yes, Factor,” bowed Hue, a short, thin fellow in a loincloth and bare feet.

“Stay with him as necessary until the raptor is properly trained. Go tell the stablemaster, and see Captain Gonville for some money.”

Hue bowed again, and ran off to tell his boss.

Chóng didn’t mess around, realized Nolan once again. He was a dictator, of sorts, but took care of his people. And his business. A good man to work for, he figured.

One of the servants from the main house came running down the path to the stables, and whispered something in Chóng’s ear.

“Excuse me, Master Nolan. Business calls,” he said, and walked back with the messenger.

Nolan was torn between watching the little raptor in his hand and organizing his notes of the hatching. In the end he decided to just sit back, enjoy the sunshine, and watch the big deinos wander around the pasture. He still couldn’t get over their feathers.

That afternoon he talked with Hue about how to train and care for his raptor. It wasn’t much different than raising a puppy, it turned out, except that raptors were carnivores, and didn’t shed.

He had the leatherworker make him a leash and collar. Hue found the concept hilarious, and after he stopped laughing told him he’d need to get new, longer ones every month or so until the raptor—now named Minilla—reached its full size, which would be about year.

Minilla was only about thirty or forty centimeters long now, but it would outgrow the basket quickly, warned Hue. Its fangs and claws were also well developed, and in the wild it would start hunting insects, frogs, and other small wildlife immediately after birth.

Hue could tell when a raptor was eating too little or too much (although it was difficult to actually feed them too much), and when one was sick. He knew all the remedies for various sicknesses, but had only vague ideas as to what might cause most of them.

Nolan’s expertise in biology meant he knew almost all of these problems, and how to treat them, but without modern pharmaceuticals... he needed to talk to ibn Sina about medicines, he realized. He knew quinine came from some tree bark, but what tree? It might be easier to make penicillin from bread mold, but that, too, was really out of his field of expertise.

And of course he had no idea how the raptor’s body might react to any drug.

He hefted his basket, accepted a large package of dried pork from Hue, and walked back up the path to the main house, looking for ibn Sina.

He was in his library, poring over an enormous tome. It looked to be a medical text, judging from the illustration of the human body, but unfortunately was written in what he assumed was Arabic. Another man stood at his side, discussing the content.

“Physician, I’d like to discuss something with you, if you’ve got some free time.”

“Of course, Master Nolan. Come in!”

Nolan stepped in and introduced himself to the other.

“Perwira of Oxuhahn,” the man replied.

“Physician Perwira has been with me for many years, first as an apprentice and now as a fellow physician and scholar of medicine. We were just discussing an old text.”

“If you can spare the time, Physician Perwira, I’d like to ask both of you about something...”

“Of course,” said ibn Sina. “Come in, sit!”

After the usual pleasantries and a pot of fresh tea, Nolan broached the subject.

“You have been physicians for many years. Your library of medical and pharmaceutical knowledge is huge, and you’ve got oodles of practical experience. My own background is quite a bit different from yours, you know, but I really think if we worked together we could make some big, big changes in medicine in the Dreamlands.”

“In my time, European medical knowledge was, shall we say, underdeveloped,” smiled ibn Sina.

“Yes. Primitive, even barbaric, compared to the Islamic centers of science and art,” agreed Nolan. “But that was centuries before my time, sir. Where I come from, medicine has developed far, far beyond all that.”

“The Dreamlands, however, are relatively unchanged... you have mentioned before that you wished you had some instrument or some medicine.”

“Yeah, a lot of the technologies and medicines I use just aren’t available in the Dreamlands, and I admit I don’t have the vaguest idea how to make most of them. But I do understand things like germ theory, how the human body works, the functioning of its various organs, the causes of various diseases, and a heck of a lot more that you’re lacking.”

“You propose to ‘educate’ me, then?”

“Oh, God no,” denied Nolan, waving his hand. “I want to work with you to figure out what works here and what doesn’t, put our expertise and knowledge together to make it more effective.”

“You are most diplomatic, Master Nolan,” smiled ibn Sina. “I have devoted my life to better understanding the human body, and how to alleviate its ills, and I would be most gratified to work with you. What do you propose?”

“I... I hadn’t thought that far,” admitted Nolan. “I guess work with you, let you know my professional opinions on each case, and see if we can incorporate them into your treatment.”

“Is this your profession?”

“I’m primarily a biologist, but along with doctorates in biology and biochemistry—and a few others—I’m also certified as a physician.”

“I see. How’s your Arabic?” asked ibn Sina, waving his hand to encompass the hundreds of books lining the shelves.

“Can’t read a word,” said Nolan. “How’s your Latin?”

“Latin? Yes, I can understand Latin, although I’ve never spoken it. You speak Latin?”

“No, of course not! I mean, c’mon, Latin’s a dead language. Nobody speaks it. But for historical reasons a lot of medical jargon is based on Latin. If you know some Latin it will help a lot.

“And I’ll have to start learning Arabic, I guess...”

“Perhaps we can write a new medical text together,” mused ibn Sina. “On a more immediate level, though, how do you get rid of warts, Physician Nolan? Factor Chóng has a most distressing wart on his foot that I have been trying to eliminate for some time now...”

Nolan, astonished to hear himself addressed as physician instead of master, thought for a moment.

“Before I can get to warts, maybe we need to talk about germ theory...”

Some time later, Captain Gonville came calling.

“Physician, Master Nolan, the Factor would like to see you both,” he said. “Could you come with me, please?”

“OK if I bring Minilla with me?”

Gonville glanced at the basket and its snoring occupant.

“Try to make sure it doesn’t get out.”

Chóng was sitting on the spacious patio overlooking the forest, and the stables.

As was often the case, he had a teacup in his hand.

He waved Nolan over with the other hand, pointing to an empty cushion.

“Master Nolan, tell me: have you ever considered teaching others your knowledge as a physician?”

Nolan blinked.

“Why, yeah... in fact, I was just talking to Physician ibn Sina here about working together!”

“Excellent,” smiled Chóng. “Because I have just now received a request from King Kuranes that you return to Celephaïs to do just that! It seems that Master TiTi and Commander Jake both, independently, recommended your services.

“Physician ibn Sina, he would also like you to join Master Nolan, or send a knowledgeable physician, to join him.”

“The King wants me to teach?”

“To help run the Madrasah of Medicine.”

“What’s a Madrasah?”

“The university, for the study of medicine.”

“You want me to run a university!?”

“The King wants you to work with Physician ibn Sina and a Healer to run the Madrasah, develop a comprehensive science of medicine that encompasses all of your disciplines, and spread your knowledge, to improve the lives of all of the Dreamlands. The thought had occurred to me as well.

“You know so much more about the human body and health than we do, and you could contribute so much to us all.”

He turned to ibn Sina.

“You on the other hand, Physician ibn Sina, need to find a way to work more closely with the Healers, as you have mentioned to me in the past.”

ibn Sina nodded in agreement, thinking.

“I... I’ve never even...”

“The King and I will provide you our full support, Physician Nolan.”

“I... Physician?”

“Yes, Physician. You leave in the morning; the King is sending an airship for you. And of course you must take Hue and your little hatchling with you.”

He nodded to Gonville, who ushered the stunned Nolan out of the room.

He wandered back to his quarters—a small bungalow near the main house—absent-mindedly dropping pieces of meat into Minilla’s basket in response to hungry scratchings.

Back to Celephaïs. By airship... he’d never even seen an airship in the Dreamlands, but had heard them mentioned once in a while. Apparently they were pretty scarce.

And to run a medical university!! Or whatever he called it... a Madrasah. Me, a University Dean!

He didn’t mind returning to Celephaïs. It would be good to see Johnny and Mack again, maybe TT if he was around. And the city was a great place to wander around in, especially the markets. He really wished he still had his cameras to capture some of these incredible animals on film! Live dinosaurs! And the scales vs. feathers controversy settled for good. He’d be fucking famous!

He looked around his bungalow... he didn’t really have anything to pack.

He looked at his collection of beetles, snakes, frogs, and other specimens he’d captured and was observing... have to let them all go, back into the wild. He still hadn’t finished his drawings, or even finding out what most of them were called. He really wanted to keep that green-and-gold banded viper... it had vestigial legs, and he knew there was nothing even close to it back on Earth. In Wakeworld.

He sighed.

There was so much to learn here.

Chóng hadn’t asked him opinion, though. Just, “You leave in the morning,” as if it was a given that he would jump when commanded.

Well, I guess I will... Chóng and the King have given me pretty much everything I’ve asked for, and God knows their knowledge of the human body and medicine is, well, medieval! Real physicians would help so many people here, and that’s really what I went to medical school and swore that oath for, isn’t it?

Maybe I should talk to Mack about pharmaceuticals... he’s the botanist, after all, and we aren’t going to be synthesizing any fancy drugs for a looong time.

He picked up a few of the cages, made of woven bamboo splits, and carried them outside.

He released them carefully into the underbrush, sadly watching the various creatures scurry back to safety without backward glance.

The next day, after breakfast with a handful of stable hands, and saying goodbye to the horses, deinos, and raptors he’d come to know, Gonville came to fetch him.

It turned out that ibn Sina had decided to send Perwira, a wiry man who looked to be in his forties or so.

Gonville led them back through the portal to Lhosk, with Hue tagging behind.

His ears popped, as they always did, and Nolan swallowed the discomfort away.

He didn’t really understand what portals were, but he treated magic just like he treated most technologies: if it worked, great. He wasn’t much into technology, only what it could do to help him better understand life.

Lhosk was the usual bustling marketplace, the crimson awnings overhead glowing brilliantly in the sunshine.

It was hot and humid in the market, crowded with people buying, people selling, people shouting everywhere, dressed in everything from a loincloth to yellow-and-orange sari to the black burka, with only the eyes showing through the narrow slit.

He was drenched in the aromas—and stenches—of the marketplace: exotic spices from Xura and Oriab, the fragrant incenses of Cydathria, fresh fruit of every description, deino musk, sweat from people and animals, urine and excrement, and every so often a wayward breeze from the wharf, cutting through it all with the overpowering scents of sea and salt.

Gonville led them away from the seafront, the marketplace falling behind as they entered a quieter residential district full of walled enclosures and mortared, mostly single-story homes. They stopped at the front gate of one home, and the see-through in the wood gate popped open at Gonville’s knock.

The eyes on the other side checked to see if it was really Gonville, then the bolt slammed back and the gate opened.

Three guards waited inside.

“The airship is just approaching, Captain Gonville.”

Gonville grunted and ushered us inside.

They walked up the exterior stairs to the roof, which was surrounded by a waist-high wall. In the center was a fair-sized platform, maybe two meters square, with steps up one side.

“Over there,” said Gonville, pointing back toward the marketplace.

Nolan turned to see an indistinct blob floating in the sky, black against the brightness of the morning.

It gradually grew larger, and he could make out the sails and hull. The prow was pointed, like any ship of the sea, but instead of rounding down to a sharp keel, it flared out to a flat base, like a shoe.

As the airship approached, Nolan could make out several trapdoors set into the flat bottom.

It drifted to a halt over the roof, and a woman tossed a hawser to one of the men standing nearby, who snubbed it to a bollard on the platform. As soon as the airship settled down, the woman leapt to the platform carrying a gangplank made of boards chained together—a suspended gangplank.

“Physicians, Master Hue... up you go!” said Gonville, pointing at the gangplank and tossing their baggage—mostly Hue’s—to a crewmember standing at the airship’s rail.

Physician Perwira boarded first. Nolan gingerly followed, feeling the gangplank sway and bounce under him, then Hue, and the crewwoman.

They unhooked the gangplank from the platform and handed it to her to stow, and then freed the hawser from the bollard, and they were off, lifting away from the crimson awnings of Lhosk into the sky.

Chapter 9

“Commander, we just received a dragolet from Celephaïs,” said Turan, holding out the message cylinder.

“Thank you, Horsemaster.”

It was sealed with the King’s chop, but written by Chuang. They’d asked (commanded?) Nolan to set up a school of medicine in Celephaïs, and he’d accepted. He’d already returned from Lhosk and was working out the details with Chuang and others.

Well, good!

He and TT had been especially worried about the state of medicine here, and now that the King was getting involved, there should be some changes coming.

Since Chuang was busy, though, he wouldn’t be coming out this time.

Jake suspected it wasn’t necessary anymore... it was late summer, and the earliest broodmares were well along. Chuang had “downgraded” two from the special group to the regular herd, but there were still over a dozen pregnant mares, and several of them should foal soon.

The first births of the program.

He’d been thinking about how intelligent horses could be used.

Traditionally, the cavalry used horses as mere transport animals, and generally felt little compunction about riding them into battle, or killing them. Sure, individual riders often felt terrible about their steeds, and there were countless stories of them saving each other, but the military overall considered them consumables.

Once they became intelligent, though, everything changed... they were no longer something to be spent and discarded, like everything else the military consumed, but needed to be trained, protected, and utilized effectively. And part of effective utilization meant not getting them killed.

Would an intelligent horse be more effective in a cavalry charge, for example? He’d been thinking of them as sheepdogs, and from experience he knew how well sheepdogs could be trained. If a horse had the same capacity… Presumably it could better avoid enemy weapons if it understood what they were, and better defend itself, but how would that change the dynamics of a cavalry charge? Would they throw their riders to defend themselves? If they were intelligent maybe they’d be smart enough to just run away from battle entirely...

The message from Chaung added that the King was considering his request, and would make a decision shortly. Chuang personally thought it was an excellent idea, and had said so to the King.

To better understand how to interact with intelligent animals, Jake had asked if they’d be willing to let Cornelia come out here for a while. The horses could get used to raptors, and his troops could get used to smart animals.

The villagers owned a number of lumbering deinos for farm work, but there were few tame raptors in the region, and not that many in the wild, either. They were not that uncommon in the big cities, but the cities were a long way from the monastery.

He really had to stop calling it the “monastery,” he chuckled to himself. He’d been thinking about what to call it, and what to call his company.

He took another sip of his tea—cold by now, but he hardly noticed—and looked at the rosters for the four twelves. They were complete now, and he’d met most of the troopers.

Danny’s twelve was the crucial one, because hopefully Danny would be the one to prove the effectiveness of their new tactical discipline.

TT was expected back in another month or so, and would be dropped in as sergeant. Yargui, the Ibizim who had saved them from Thuba Mleen’s surprise attack months ago, was in that twelve.

She’d brought three other Ibizim with her, one for each of the other three twelves. Matriarch Geriel agreed that the Ibizim and Jake’s troops needed to work together, and get to know each other better, and had arranged it. When the time came, they would make it easier to work with Ibizim forces, too.

At his request, Nnamdi had arranged to bring six experienced archers from Zar, his home. They brought their own recurved bows with them, beautifully crafted works of art made of multiple layers of bone and wood. Even better, they were all used to hunting—and fighting—with raptors.

He assigned three to Danny’s twelve, and split the others up between the other three twelves. Nnamdi himself was not an archer, so one of them joined Nnamdi in Beghara’s twelve.

Ridhi Chabra’s cousin had come at Ridhi’s request, and was signed up as Danny’s lead scout. Ridhi swore she was every bit as good as Ridhi herself, and so far she seemed to be.

Once word got around they’d had a lot of visitors dropping by in search of employment. Most lacked the skills and experience Jake wanted, but there were some pleasant surprises: a group of mercenaries from Zulan-Thek hoping for vengeance against Thuba Mleen; a few hard fighters from Thorabon (one of whom Nadeen tapped as her sergeant, in charge of her second six); a few relatively new people from Daikos, including one missing his little finger—Nadeen informed him that meant he’d probably trained a wyvern, and a variety of others from throughout the Dreamlands.

Borislaw, the lancer from Ganzorig, First Lord of Eudoxia, had also arrived. He’d ended up in Beghara’s twelve, of course, since he was primarily a cavalryman. Jake wanted his expertise on mounted combat, training warhorses, and a few other things.

One new hire, a fairly young man from Despina named Bokalam, had been discovered rifling through Jake’s quarters. He swore he was just a common thief, and was put to death. Captain Long suspected he was actually a spy from Thuba Mleen, and whether he had been or not, Jake figured Thuba Mleen had a spy here now, or several.

He’d been working with all five captains—his four captains in charge of combat groups, plus “Captain” Ridhi Chabra, who was in charge of keeping the monastery running. They met at least once a week, sometimes more, discussing developments, training progress, and developing a common method for signed communication. They wanted to be sure everyone could communicate silently with each other.

Jake realized that if there was a spy all the details would leak soon enough, but the point wasn’t secrecy—it was silence.

Einar, the smith, had finally come up with a sturdy, low-friction design for a compass. As he’d predicted, the pivot was made of silver orichalc, an incredibly tough material that he said would keep its point for decades.

The compass case was brass, with the orichalc needle sticking up in the center, surrounded by a standard 360-degree compass card. The case had a tough glass cover, and was protected by a leather case with latchable flip-top over the glass.

Einar refused to say how he’d made the orichalc pivots, but Jake had a hard enough time just getting the writing on the compass card accurate and clear enough. Fortunately, Ridhi’s efforts in paper-making were already bearing fruit, and it was not that difficult to rig up a printing press. Once the metal sheet was cut properly—by Einar, of course—it was a simple matter to run off a hundred copies, which were still clear enough to use even when printed on Ridhi’s rough paper. Movable type was next, but that would require a bit more preparation.

She was making the paper with some local root instead of trees. Jake had no idea how to make paper out of tree pulp anyway, but apparently the Godsworn of Nath-Horthath throughout the Dreamlands wrote their prayers and records on paper made from these roots, and she somehow got the details.

She and Mintran thought they had an idea of how to speed up production, and make the paper smoother, which would be great.

He’d played with his dad’s fountain pen a long, long time ago, but had always used ball-points since, and learning to use a quill and ink was a major challenge. It was even worse on rough, absorbent paper! Chuang was quite happy using a brush, but after trying both Jake felt he had a better chance with the quill.

One wall of the library was now full of maps, mostly maps of the eastern continent. Some they had purchased, some they had been gifted by the King or Matriarch Geriel, and two they had outright stolen. The problem was that they were all hand-drawn, naturally, and some of the mapmakers didn’t actually bother to check the terrain before scribbling something down.

He hoped to start fixing that today, thanks to a little support from the King.

“Good to see you again, Aercaptain de Palma.”

The aercaptain had just arrived, his airship moored to the cliff wall.

“Nice to be out of the city again, Commander,” said de Palma. “Commander Britomartis was quite vague about exactly what you need us to do, though...”

“Good. No point is letting everyone know what you’re up to. Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Jake poured another cup for his visitor. The pot, at least, was still hot.

He pulled out a map of the monastery and surrounding area.

“This map is supposed to be one of the best, according to the mapmaker in Rinar. As you can see, however, the terrain between Rinar and the Mohagger Mountains is entirely blank, except for the River Mnar. I flew over much of the land recently, some of it with you, and we both know the terrain is anything but flat.”

“And you want us to make a better one.”

“Yes. Actually, I want you to take my mapmaker up and let her make better ones. With the advantage of an aerial view and a good compass, she will be able to make maps that are far, far more accurate and useful than these works of art.”

And they were indeed works of art, embellished with beautiful calligraphy, monsters, jeweled portraits and whatnot. Unfortunately, they were not very accurate outside the immediate environs of the cities.

“You’ve hired someone from the Cartographers’ Guild?”

“No, I haven’t,” said Jake. He quickly held up his hand to forestall the other’s objection. “Yes, I know the Guild is supposed to handle mapmaking. Unfortunately, since my maps are going to be very different than their maps, it will be far easier to train someone to do them properly in the first place, instead of trying to convince them to learn how to do it a different way.”

“They won’t like it, you know.”

“Oh, I know. They’ll hate it, and they might even try to do something about it, but I think when I show them a few completed maps, and offer to show them how to do the same, they’ll be happy to forget about it all.”

“You’re the boss,” said de Palma, raising one eyebrow in doubt. “So what area do you want us to map?”

“If you have a reliable compass, how closely can you control your own course? Assuming there are no strong winds, of course.”

“I’d love a reliable compass! We usually navigate by compass, known features like rivers or mountains, and aiming for mountains on the horizon. The stars at night, of course. Even now we usually stay with two or three dozen kilometers of our course, I think. Barring unusual gusts.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough or not,” mused Jake. “It depends how high you get, and how much detail is visible from what height. That’s a good start, though, because the compass alone should enable you to halve that, if not better.”

“How good a compass?”

Jake picked up a cloth bag and handed it to de Palma, who opened it gingerly.

Inside was a large compass in a brass case, complete with compass card. It was mounted in a steel gimbal.

“It’s waterproof, and the gimbal means it will remain level—and accurate—even when the deck tilts, once you mount it.”

The aercaptain turned it in his hand, admiring how smoothly it returned to level, and the ease with which the needle spun to point north.

“This is wonderful! Can you make more of these for the King?”

“We’re making them now. They’ll be ready for you when you return to Celephaïs, or if Master Chuang gets here sooner with him.”

“When do I meet the mapmaker?”

“Right now,” said Jake, and raised his voice: “Captain! Would you bring her in now?”

Ridhi Chabra stepped into the library, followed by a short, blonde woman in a bright blue tunic.

“Valda Sigridsdóttir of Perdóndaris,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

“De Palma of Celephaïs,” replied the aercaptain, seated.

“Join us, mistress,” invited Jake. “Mistress Valda was recommended to me by Juan Hernández, Factor Chóng’s man in Rinar.”

“What the Commander doesn’t mention is that Factor Hernández sent me here to get me out of the city and out of his hair,” added Valda. “I was in the Guild, and we had a, um, disagreement over how to make maps.

“I’m not in the Guild anymore.”

“I’ve seen the sort of maps she makes,” said Jake,” and they are very close to what I need.”

He pushed a sheet of paper across the tabletop to de Palma.

“As you can see, in addition to the usual monsters and curlicues, she’s also very clearly shown roadways, paths, mountain passes, very small groups of buildings such as an individual farm, rivers, marshland... all sorts of information.”

De Palma glanced at the map, then picked it up for a more detailed look.

“This is the area just northeast of Rinar,” he said. “I recognize this double-S shaped path to the mountain pass.”

Jake nodded.

“Yes, and the fact that you can tell that it’s a map of that region means it’s reasonably accurate. And useful.”

De Palma set the map down again, took a sip of tea.

“It depends on the weather and how fast Mistress Valda can draw, but we’ll probably have to overfly each region at least two or three times, I think.”

“Very fast,” said Valda. “I sketch first, and make the final map later. Still, it would be good if I could make a final flight after the map is done, to check it. If necessary I can revise it.”

“How large an area to you want to map, Commander?”

“It may take quite a while, Aercaptain. Once the King sees the maps, I suspect he’ll want to assign additional airships to the task.”

“How long is ‘quite a while,’ Commander?”

“Years. I want to map the entire Dreamlands.”

De Palma almost spit out his tea, snapping up straight on his stool.

“The entire Dreamlands!?”

“Yes. The whole thing. Every city, every river, every town and village and pass over the mountains. Every lonely farm in the middle of fucking nowhere!”

Ridhi finally broke the silence.

“May I see that map, Commander?”

“Of course,” said Jake, sliding it over so she could see it.

“Very pretty! The different greens of the forest are beautiful! But what are these little marks down here?”

“There’s a legend in the corner,” said Valda.

Ridhi found the legend, and stared at it. It was upside down, and Jake noticed that she made no effort to turn her head, or rotate the map to make it more legible.

“You can’t read, can you,” he observed.

“No, commander, not these letters.”

“Oh... I hadn’t thought of that...”

He thought for a moment.

“Captain Ridhi, how many of your staff can read?”

“I don’t really know, Commander. Few of them have any need to... I can read my own language, of course, but I never had any need to learn to read and write common.”

Jake realized he didn’t even know how many letters were in the common alphabet... he’d automatically assumed they used the English one, but maybe not...

“Thank you, Captain.” He printed a short message on a sheet of paper and handed it to her. “Would you show this to everyone you can find today, and just ask them to read it to you? One at a time. It says ‘The winter is very cold.’ I don’t care who can read it and who can’t, but please give me the totals for how many people could and couldn’t.”

“Now, Commander?”

“Yes, please. And don’t forget to ask the other captains as well.”

She nodded and slipped out.

“Well, that’s a problem I never expected... Your maps won’t be very useful if nobody can read them!”

“Almost everybody in Rinar knows how to read and write common,” said Varda. “Even the merchants.”

“Pretty much the same for everyone in Celephaïs, too,” agreed de Palma, “but I suspect once you get outside the city it gets pretty uncommon. And in places with their own languages, like Shiroora Shan or Cydathria, or the Ibizim.”

“We can make things a lot easier by deciding on a single way to depict various map elements,” Jake suggested. “Once everyone memorizes the symbology, they won’t need letters as much.”

They spent the next few hours working out a list of symbols, largely based on the military mapping symbols Jake had learned in the Australian armed forces.

In the process, they discovered that there was no single common alphabet. They only made sense, Jake realized, because there was no central government deciding things.

About the time they hashed all that out, Ridhi returned with Nadeen.

“I asked about fifty people. About a third of them—fifteen—couldn’t read it at all,” she announced. “And another twelve managed to read it only with considerable difficulty.”

“Well, then,” said Jake. “I guess I have to set up a school, then.”

“I wonder if we couldn’t get the temple to handle that for us,” mused Nadeen. “All of the texts of the Temple of Nath-Horthath are in the common tongue, well, except for their sacred writings in T’pictyl. Everything we use is in common.

“They have always taught reading and writing so more people can worship correctly, and I know the King has a good working relationship with them...”

“Do you know what letters they use?”

“Of course, I learned them all as a kid,” she said, and wrote them out.

It was basically the same as his English alphabet but with no C, Q, or X. In addition, it had a thorn (Þ) for the TH sound. Upper case letters only, for twenty-four characters:

ABDEFGHIJKLMNOPRSTUVWYZÞ

They’d need numbers and a few punctuation marks, too, but numbers were already pretty widely known and would probably not be an issue.

So now they had their list of map symbols, and their “official” alphabet.

Next, contact the Temple of Nath-Horthath and see if they couldn’t find a way to get them to do it instead.

His monastery was getting bigger by the day: in addition to the new shed for Ridhi’s paper-making, now he needed to find a place for a temple! Hopefully they’d want to build a new one outside the walls—he really didn’t feel like having a bunch of chanting Godsworn using these buildings again.

He asked Ridhi to set up temporary quarters for Aercaptain de Palma and his crew, and the meeting broke up. They’d gotten some things done, and had added even more items to his to-do list.

He thanked everyone, and relaxed a bit, twisting his neck back and forth to get the cricks out. It had been a long meeting.

“Oh, Captain Ridhi... Before you go, there is one more thing I need to discuss with you,” he said as the meeting broke up. He explained what he needed, and handed her a rough drawing.

“Should be pretty simple, Commander,” she said, and left.

Nadeen walked around the table and placed her hands on his shoulders, digging in to massage out the pain.

Jake closed his eyes in bliss.

That evening, after most of the troops were back—Danny had taken his twelve out into the mountains for training—he called the four battle captains together to go over the map-making and literacy projects.

Surprisingly, it turned out that Danny could read and write fluently, and in several languages at that. Beghara was OK in common, but not really fluent. And Captain Long, who he’d expected to be an old hand at both map-reading and reading, turned out to be almost completely illiterate in everything except Ibizim.

At least he knew numbers in the common tongue, though, which was a start.

“How’d the training go today, Danny?”

“They’re getting better,” said Danryce. “We’re beginning to work as a unit now, finally. The archers aren’t real happy about having to learn how to climb up and down mountains, but it turns out that Yargui is very good at showing them how to do it.

“Also turns out that Beorhtwig, one of the new guys from Daikos, gets along with Yargui’s sand lizard real well. He wanted to be a wyver-master, you know, up in Daikos. Beorhtwig, I mean. That’s why he’s missing that little finger.

“I don’t get it,” said Jake, frowning. “What does his finger have to do with it?”

“You bind wyverns with your blood,” explained Long. “It used to be that way with the sand lizards, too, but the tradition is almost dead in the Western Desert.”

“Blood... you mean, his finger!?”

“That’s the old way to do it. One finger, one wyvern,” said Danny. “It used to be you’d see wyver-masters walking around with only two or three fingers left. Not so much anymore.

“Anyway, he failed, or gave up, or something—he doesn’t like to talk about it much—but he’s really gotten friendly with Yargui’s sand lizard.”

The sand lizards were about the size of Great Danes, and the Ibizim trained them to be pretty much like attack dogs. The wild ones were generally encountered in small prides consisting of one mature male with multiple females and young, and if they were hungry—which was most of the time—it rarely ended well for their prey.

“Is that likely to be a problem?”

“It’s certainly better than having the lizard start biting him! No, I don’t think it’s likely to be a problem unless Beorhtwig and Yargui get into a fight, which isn’t going to happen while I’m captain.”

“Good,” nodded Jake. “How big are these dragons you’re talking about?”

“Wyverns. Two or three people can ride on one of the big ones. Flying.”

“They fly? That big?”

“I haven’t heard of any big ones in the last few years, but I know there are some big enough to carry single riders,” said Nadeen.

“They breathe fire, too?”

“Fire?” queried Danny. “Never heard of a wyvern breathing fire. It’d burn them right up, wouldn’t it?”

“Never mind. So is it possible that these wyvern might attack us some day?”

“Nah, unlikely. They need the cold climate up north. They’d be dead of heatstroke in a day or two down here,” explained Sergeant Long. “Unless you’re planning on missions up in Lomar or Zobna.”

“Good. No, no plans. But it’s nice to know I don’t have to try to figure out how to defend this place against wyvern, too... airships are bad enough.”

He turned to Nadeen.

“Speaking of airships, how are those new bolt throwers coming along?”

“The scorpions? Right on schedule,” she said. “The ones along the cliff wall are already in place, and we’ve been working back along the walls toward the gates. Should be all done in another week or so.”

He nodded.

Scorpions could fire a whole sheaf of bolts or a single massive bolt at a time, and were the best choice for air defense. They couldn’t defend against airships dropping things from high above the monastery, of course, but Chuang said the Thuba Mleen couldn’t have more than one or two airships, both stolen.

Chuang had also said they expected to steal them back shortly, but that had been some time ago and he hadn’t heard of any successes yet.

“Anything else?”

Captain Long cleared his throat.

“It’s not really a problem, but it might be... I’ve got three troopers from Zulan-Thek, one from Thace, and of course the Ibizim. And all of them hate Thuba Mleen with a vengeance. A literal vengeance, as it happens—they’ve all lost family because of him.

“They’re all right on the ball when it comes to following orders, but we’re only in training now, and I wonder if they can stay on mission when we run into some of Thuba Mleen’s people somewhere. If we’re scouting and one of them decides to go settle a score it could get messy real fast.”

“Danny? Beghara?”

Both of the said it was unlikely to be a problem: Danny only had one trooper from Zulan-Thek, and Beghara none.

They decided to just keep an eye on the situation for now.

At last the meeting ended and he and Nadeen could settle down to eat the evening meal.

Jake really wanted an ale, but his stomach hurt again, and he decided to stick with tea tonight.

That evening he wrote a message to King Kuranes explaining the need to teach reading and writing at the monastery, suggesting the Godsworn of Nath-Horthath as one option, and sent it off by dragolet. The dragolets could memorize and later recite short messages, but most of the time he really needed to send a longer, written message... and unless his troops could read them, too, long-distance comms would be impossible.

There must be some other way to communicate with the King... how did the King and Chóng and Mochizuki manage to talk to each other so quickly, he wondered. Kuranes and Chóng got a lot of things settled awfully fast for people who lived on different continents and needed to fly messages to each other.

Something else for his ever-growing to-do list, he drowsily thought to himself, making a mental note to take care of it later.

When Nadeen looked in on him later he was asleep, his head on the table.

The next day, Jake summoned Aercaptain de Palma, Mistress Valda, and Yargui, the Ibizim fighter in Captain Danryce’s twelve.

“Mistress, I want you to work on making detailed maps of the fort and vicinity for now, on the ground. Aercaptain de Palma will rejoin you in about a week.”

“The fort, Commander? You mean the monastery?”

“It hasn’t been a monastery for many years, Mistress. I think it’s time to call it what it is.”

“Fort it is, then. Has it a name now, too?”

“Yes, it is Fort Campbell.”

“I’ll get started on it today, Commander,” she said, and left.

“Aercaptain, Trooper Yargui, you and I are off to speak with the Alchemist.”

They nodded and followed in Jake’s footsteps, wondering what was going on.

“Alchemist! Alchemist Mintran!”

“Back here,” came muffled reply.

Jake stepped inside Mitran’s laboratory, searching for the alchemist.

“Just setting up the oven,” said Mintran, standing up. He’d been squatting on the floor, closing the door to the large oven built into the wall of the building. “Oh, Commander! Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice.”

Jake waved the apology away.

“Alchemist Mintran, I’m afraid that will have to wait. Aercaptain de Palma is taking you and Trooper Yargui to the Hills of Noor. You leave today on a very important mission.”

The three exchanged glances.

They hadn’t heard a word about this.

Jake explained in detail.

Later, after the airship had departed, Jake and Nadeen walked to the tall flagpole he had had erected a week ago. Located near the tower, it was clearly visible from both gates and most of the walled enclosure.

Ridhi had completed his request yesterday, but the trial and execution had derailed his plans.

He ran the standard up the flagpole.

A golden scorpion reared on a brilliant crimson background.

A tiny creature, almost insignificantly small, but with a sting that could topple someone hundreds of times its size. A fitting standard for what was now the Scorpius Company.

* * *

The darkness is actually pretty relaxing. At least it was warm!

Wish I could get a message out... that information on the movements of Matriarch Geriel would have been priceless if it had only been in time. And imagine what I could have done if we had been in Phase Two then!

It would have been the perfect opportunity to inflict a massive loss on those Ibizim.

Ah, well, my time will come soon enough.

Time to go back to sleep...

Chapter 10

“Master Chuang, the Godsworn is here,” said the guard.

“Which one?” asked Chuang, setting down his magnifier and looking up at the doorway. “Oh, Healer Cressida, come in!”

Cressida, standing tall and straight in spite of her age—she looked to be at least in her seventies or so—strode in, using her serpent-entwined staff as more of an announcement than a support. She was dressed in the simple sky-blue robe of her calling, hood thrown back to reveal her graying hair and brown eyes.

The two women following her were dressed in a similar fashion, but stayed silent behind her.

“Thank you, Master Chuang,” she said. “May I?”

“Oh, please, sit!” he said hurriedly, waving at the cushions. “You two, please sit and relax. I will have some tea brought.”

“Fresh tea, please,” he called to the guard in the doorway. “And notify the King that Godsworn Cressida is here.”

He turned back to his guest.

“Thank you coming, Healer.”

“And thank you for remembering to call me healer instead of godsworn... My position as Godsworn of Panakeia is recent, but healing has always been my calling.”

“I wouldn’t call over a century as head of the temple recent,” countered Chuang, “but I haven’t forgotten our talks together when you were but a youngling.”

She smiled.

“Quite some time ago, isn’t it? To think that one day I would be who I am, having a meeting on the Pinnacle...”

Chuang poured his three visitors cups of fresh, hot tea, and handed the first to Cressida, then stood to carry the tray with the other two cups to her waiting attendants. One stood to accept it from him.

“Thank you, Master Chuang.”

“But of course, Healer.”

After he rejoined Cressida at the low table, he took a sip of his own tea to organize his thoughts.

“I debated visiting you at your temple to discuss this, but decided in the end that it would be better if you could join me here. There are some possibly delicate issues to discuss, and I would like you to meet someone.”

“So delicate you couldn’t discuss them with me at the temple?”

“Possibly so. If I have erred, it was on the side of caution.”

“I have not known you to err so often, Master Chuang.”

“Hmm, yes... I have gotten rather better at hiding them, haven’t I?”

Cressida laughed.

“So what is so delicate?”

“Panakeia is the goddess of healing. Her father received sacred knowledge of healing, remedies, medicinal plants and more from the Scaled Ones, and she has applied that knowledge to aid the sick and the infirm.”

“Yes. And?”

“I believe you have spoken with Physician ibn Sina numerous times, sharing your knowledge with each other, even studying each other’s writings.”

“Many times. My Arabic has gotten quite a bit better, as has his Greek.”

“He has been working with Factor Chóng for a number of years now, as I’m sure you’re aware. But the Factor also recently welcomed a new guest named Master Nolan. Nolan Geiszler. He came here from Wakeworld, and he is a specialist in biology.”

“Yes, I’d heard it mentioned.”

“He is also a physician, an expert in Wakeworld medicine. And healing.”

“I see...”

“For various reasons, the King has directed me to establish a Madrasah of Medicine here in Celephaïs. It will bring together the teachings of Physician ibn Sina, currently mostly in Arabic; Wakeworld knowledge from Master Nolan... excuse me, I really should start calling him Physician Nolan; and your knowledge: the knowledge of Panakeia.”

“Well, that would be quite a mixture indeed,” she said slowly, thinking. “Physician ibn Sina and I have already discovered a great number of issues on which we disagree, although many more on which our teachings are similar.

“And you propose adding a third school of thought.”

“Yes. This is Wakeworld, however, free of all consideration of gods and magic. Physician ibn Sina and I believe that the vast majority of that knowledge will apply here in the Dreamlands as well, since we are all human. Plus, we enjoy a variety of other techniques which do work, such as prayer, spells, and various potions.

“The goal is to nurture physicians—healers—who can go out into the world and help everyone, alleviating so much of the suffering you and I are all too aware of.”

“And you wanted to talk to me here because this has ramifications for the Goddess...”

Chuang nodded.

“The Dreamlands is an amalgam of diverse cultures, religions, beliefs, languages... in addition to all that exists or existed in Wakeworld, the Dreamlands is also home to many of the creations of the imagination, not to mention what created ourselves.

“The King and I believe that a harmonious Dreamlands is possible, and that a Madrasah of Medicine would help us achieve it, but unless we can build the Madrasah with the support of both Panakeia and ibn Sina’s medicine—or at least free of any enmity—it will only breed further discord, and almost certainly cause more death and suffering than if we had never begun.”

“Has Physician ibn Sina already agreed to this proposal?”

“In principle, depending on the details yet to be worked out. He has sent Physician Perwira as his representative, to serve as one of the three directors of the Madrasah, together with someone you appoint, and Physician Nolan.”

“This requires some thought, and certainly more discussion of your plans. I know Physicians ibn Sina and Perwira well, but nothing of this Physician Nolan.”

“He is here in Celephaïs now, Healer, if you would like to meet him,” said Chuang. “Shall I summon him?”

“Why, yes, why not? For better or worse, there is little to be gained by waiting.”

Chuang rang his little bell, and when the guard stuck her head in to see what he needed, told her to bring Physician Nolan in now.

A few minutes later, Nolan Geiszler walked in.

“Physician Nolan, please, join us, if you will,” invited Chuang.

“Good to see you again, sir,” said Nolan, unable to shake the habit.

“This is Godsworn Cressida of the Temple of Panakeia. She is also a healer.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” said Nolan, inclining his head.

“Godsworn, please,” corrected Chuang. “And I am not a sir.”

“Yeah, sorry, they still slip out...”

“Master Chuang tells me you are a physician,” broke in Cressida.

“Yes, I got most of my doctorates at MIT, and my MD at Harvard Medical.”

“I don’t understand most of those words, but you are a physician, correct?”

“Sorry, yes. MD stands for Medical Doctor.”

“And do you worship a god?”

“Worship?”

Nolan laughed.

“No, ma’a... Godsworn, I worship nothing but science and knowledge. My oath is sworn on Apollo and various gods and goddesses, but I believe in none of them.”

“Apollo!? What oath?”

“Yes, the Hippocratic Oath. Everyone has to swear it to become a doctor. Basically we swear to do no harm, and invoke um, let me see... ‘Apollo, Asclepius, Hygieia, Panacea, and all the gods and goddesses’ as I recall.”

“Panacea! You are sworn to Panakeia!”

“Pana... Panakeia is the same as Panacea!?” Nolan gasped. “Here, in the Dreamlands?”

“It seems you have somewhat in common,” Chuang commented dryly.

“Of course!” said Nolan. “Your staff! I should have made the connection when I came in! You’re carrying the twined serpents of Asclepius on your staff!”

“You are familiar with the staff of Asklēpiós as well?”

“Yes, of course... it is the symbol of the medical profession,” laughed Nolan. “Wow, that’s amazing. I’m in fucking Dreamland and medicine is still the same.”

“Ahem. Perhaps a little more circumspection...?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Master Chuang. Ma’am.”

“You may call me Godsworn, or Healer, or even Mistress Cressida, if you must,” she corrected, “but please stop with that hideous word.”

“Ah, um, yeah, sorry, uh, Godsworn.”

“Hmm. So tell me, Physician Nolan, do you read Greek?”

“Greek? Nope. I mean, I know the Greek alphabet, but I don’t know any words.”

“Our sacred texts are all written in Greek. From your point of view, I imagine ancient Greek.”

“And ibn Sina’s stuff is all in Arabic,” observed Nolan. “Doesn’t that sorta make it hard for you two to talk about it?”

“Yes, but we share other tongues in common. Like this one.”

“Would I need to learn Greek?”

“It would certainly help,” said Cressida, “but I don’t think it would be necessary. Any more than you would have to learn Arabic.”

“That’s a relief... I’ve always had trouble picking up languages. I hope we can run this university in common.”

“Yes,” said Chuang. “We hope to open the doors of the Madrasah to all, which means it will have to be in the common tongue.”

“You seem very young to be in charge of a Madrasah,” mused Cressida. “And perhaps rather impetuous.”

“Yeah, I’ve always been a bit on the wild side,” agreed Nolan. “I jumped a lot of grades when I was a kid, got my first doctorate at seventeen... and I’ve been around a lot, I mean, back in Wakeworld, before I even got here.”

“And you are now, what, perhaps forty?”

“Thirty-eight, in fact. And you? I’d guess maybe seventy, seventy-five...?”

“Oh, Master Chuang, he is delightful!” she laughed, slapping the table. “I’m well over five hundred by my count, although this decrepit specimen of a man here is even older!”

Chuang sniffed. “Hardly decrepit. Merely well aged.”

“Five hundred years! You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Wow. I mean, I knew ibn Sina and Chóng were from centuries ago in Wakeworld, but I sorta figured they just arrived at a different time, you know? But you mean... Wow. You mean they’ve been here all that time? So Chóng’s like two thousand years old?”

“Yes,” agreed Chuang. “And I am at least three hundred years older than he.”

“Uh, um, I don’t want to offend you or anything, but, um, why aren’t you dead?”

Cressida laughed.

“Things work differently here,” explained Chuang. “Time doesn’t always pass in a stable fashion, as it does in Wakeworld. Sometimes it slows, or halts, or even flows backwards. Reality can change, although very few people can ever notice, because they change with it.

“Babies are born, and grow, and suffer from disease and injury and age, and most will eventually die, but not all. Death is usually permanent, but not always. Gods exist, and interfere in our affairs at times.

“And physicians from Wakeworld wander into these lands, on occasion.”

“And has anybody ever investigated why some people die, and some don’t? Like yourself?”

“Yes, of course. People have always sought immortality. Here in the Dreamlands it appears to be possible, but those of us who are seemingly immortal have done nothing to gain it. My suspicion is that we are not actually immortal at all—and goodness knows we can be killed as easily as any man—but rather that, for some reason, we have been overlooked.

“It just happens...”

“Well, I think that sounds like a research project very much worth pursuing!” said Nolan. “If only I had my lab here with me!”

“Are you sure immortality for all would be a good thing, Physician Nolan? We would eat ourselves to extinction in a few generations,” asked Cressida. “And even if not for all, who would decide who is to become immortal, and who to die?”

“Knowledge has its own worth,” said Nolan. “How it is utilized depends on those who use it, for better or worse, as it always has been.”

“Regardless of the consequences?” pressed Cressida.

“Yes, I believe so,” he replied, nodding.

Chuang shook his head. “I cannot agree. There is too much pain and death in the world, evils that can be minimized or eliminated. If all could be happy and healthy I would cheerfully abandon knowledge. I know far more than I would like about certain things, and wish I had never gained that knowledge.”

“Not me,” replied Nolan cheerfully. “I can’t imagine knowing something and wanted to un-know it!”

“Be that as it may,” said Chuang, “we are here to discuss the possibility of combining your knowledge of medicine with Physician ibn Sina’s study of Islamic medicine and the Goddess’s knowledge of healing, in a new Madrasah of Medicine. Perhaps we can continue this discussion of the value of knowledge at some future time.”

“He has sworn to Panakeia to heal others, and to do no harm,” said Cressida. “I believe that his knowledge will assist us in carrying out the Goddess’s mission to heal others, and alleviate their pain and suffering. And I have no qualms whatsoever as far as Physician in Sina is concerned, although he is clearly wrong in some aspects.”

“Physician Nolan?”

“Hey, sure, I’m happy to work with them on this. If she knows how to make people immortal, I absolutely want to know more about it.”

“Our mission is healing, of one kind or another,” corrected Cressida. “Not making anyone immortal.”

“Yeah, same thing, same thing,” said Nolan, waving away her objections. “OK, I’m in, Master Chuang. What’s next?”

“We need a place to build the Madrasah, but before we can do that we need to know what to build,” said Chuang. “How many students? How many teachers? Do they require dormitories? What else do you need? Should the Madrasah be walled, or open? There are countless points to be discussed before we can approach the King to ask for a grant of land.”

They began to discuss plans in more detail, calling for pens, paper, and more tea.

By dinnertime they had a solid idea of what they wanted. To start with, at least.

The next step was to present their ideas to the King, and that wouldn’t be possible for a few days, said Chuang, without explaining why the King was unavailable.

Chuang invited them to dine with him, and while Nolan was happy to accept, Cressida declined, citing the need to return to the Temple.

They walked from the Palace of the Seventy Delights to the small dining hall used by palace staff and the King’s Guard. It was far less ornate than the main dining hall in the Palace itself, but even so significantly fancier than anything you might find in the city below. Everything here on the Pinnacle was beautiful, often uniquely beautiful, as created from the fertile imagination of the King, and embellished by generations of artists since.

The rosewood tables were set with crystal goblets and tableware of silver, and as they entered a young women showed them to a table overlooking the city.

The sun had already slipped below the horizon, leaving the western sky a dark red dotted with pink, fluffy clouds, and the first lights of Celephaïs below were beginning to shine.

As he admired the view from his cushion, a waiter brought them flagons of chilled ale, and a plate of tiny fried squid.

Nolan tried one, enjoying the salty crunchiness that went so well with the bitter ale.

Chuang nodded to a few of the guards eating there, exchanged greetings with one, and helped Nolan demolish the delicious squidlings.

Shortly a platter of chicken and vegetables came, fried up in some reddish sauce, along with a huge lidded container of rice. They spooned the rice into their smaller rice bowls, and used the serving chopsticks on the platter to heap their plates with the chicken-and-vegetable dish.

Chuang pushed his on top of his rice, setting his empty plate down again and to the side so he could concentrate on his rice bowl, complete with delicious toppings, while Nolan alternated between rice bowl and plate. A second round of ale arrived shortly, and their conversation continued on mundane subjects, punctuated by eating and drinking.

After they finished off the first plate, the waiter brought a second one—some sort of white-fleshed fish, drenched in a spicy, tomato-based sauce.

They finished that plate off pretty quickly, too, but their speed was dropping fast.

“You’re a little low on rice, Master Chuang,” said the waiter a few minutes later. “Shall I bring more?”

“I’m fine, Louis,” he replied. “Physician Nolan? You?”

“I’m good. Maybe too good,” said Nolan, loosening his belt a notch. “Maybe some tea?”

“Of course,” said Louis, and trotted off.

He was back in a minute with a large pot of fresh tea and another plate, this time full of golfball-sized fruit covered in concentric purple ridges.

“Never seen these before,” said Nolan, picking one up. “What is it?”

“It’s lelai fruit, from the Necklace.”

“The Necklace?”

“The waters of the Hippocrene Spring flow through the Cirque of the Moon here in Celephaïs, creating a series of ponds that we call the Necklace. The lelai trees need plenty of water, and grow along the banks of the ponds, and the streams connecting them.”

“How do you eat it?”

“Some people prefer to peel them,” said Chuang, “but I enjoy them just as they are.”

He picked one up and bit off half of it, closing his eyes in ecstasy.

A bit of purple juice dribbled down his chin to be caught by a quick swipe by the back of his hand.

Nolan sniffed one, experimentally bit into it.

A burst of flavor exploded on his tongue, a combination of sweet and spicy and fruity and... he couldn’t describe it. It was delicious, and almost sensual in the sheer bliss it brought.

“Wow! I mean, really, wow!” he burbled. “I’ve never had anything like that! It’s... it’s incredible!”

“Yes, it is good, isn’t it?”

“Is it, um, psychedelic? Or habit-forming?”

“Don’t think so, but a lot of people eat one almost every day,” said Chuang, reaching for another one. “The lelai are very well tended, and produce enormous quantities of fruit, fortunately. I don’t think anyone would get sick without their daily lelai, but a lot of people would certainly be unhappy. Including me.”

“These seeds easy to grow?” asked Nolan, spitting out some a few tiny black specks onto his palm. They were as small and innocuous as strawberry seeds, he thought.

“Quite easy, as long as you have fertile soil and ample sunlight and water. Animals and birds devour the fruit, but the trees are quite hardy,” said Chuang. “However, they do take eight or ten years to produce their first crop.”

“Too bad... I’ll have to see just what’s in them someday...” said Nolan to himself.

“You know,” said Chuang, “if you’re so interested in long life, there’s someone here you should really meet.”

He leaned toward the adjacent table.

“Where’s Sergeant Thag?”

The guards at that table immediately turned to greet Chuang with nods, and then scanned the dining hall in search of someone.

“He ate earlier,” said one of them. “He’s probably outside as usual, with his thagweed.”

“He sure does love that stuff,” observed another.

“They call it thagweed for a reason, you know!”

They all laughed.

“Thank you,” said Chuang. “Physician, if you’re done with dinner, join me for a moment. I think you’ll find Sergeant Thag a most interesting person.”

Nolan rose, quite full of both dinner and curiosity.

They left the dining hall and walked through the garden toward a columned outlook. In the darkness a single blob of orange light flared and dimmed... someone was smoking.

“Sergeant Thag? It’s Chuang... there’s someone here whom I’d like you to meet.”

The blob of orange light jerked suddenly in the darkness, then dropped low to fire a small oil lamp.

“A beautiful night, is it not, Master Chuang?”

His voice was so deep Nolan could almost feel the ground vibrate in sympathy.

“It is indeed, Sergeant.”

They approached, and now Nolan could see the Sergeant clearly.

He was quite a bit shorter than Nolan, but built broad and massive. He was dressed in a leather harness over a simple tunic, and was barefoot. His entire body was almost covered in coarse, orangish hair. His forehead—as much as was visible—sloped back from his face, which was shadowed under his massive, protruding eyebrows.

“Sergeant, Physician Nolan and I were just discussing how long people live in the Dreamlands,” said Chuang conversationally. “I thought he might be interested in your story.”

“You don’t look that old, Sergeant...” said Nolan.

Thag laughed, huge booms of mirth that sent distant birds squawking.

“I don’t know how old I am, Physician,” he replied. “but I lived here before the first stones of Celephaïs were laid.”

“That’s... that’s thousands and thousands of years!”

“At least,” agree Thag. “I didn’t know how to count, or care, until much later, but I’m pretty sure I lived here for at least three great dozens of years.”

“What’s a great dozen?” Nolan asked. “Is that the same as a grand dozen?”

“A great dozen is a grand grand dozen,” said Chuang.

Nolan did some quick calculations in his head. A grand dozen was a dozen dozens, or one hundred and forty-four. One forty-four squared was, um, twenty or twenty-one thousand... Thag was saying he’d lived for over sixty thousand years!!

Nolan looked at Thag’s face again... protruding eyebrows, protruding jaw, short stature...

“My god! You’re a Neanderthal!”

Thag cocked his head.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It’s... Oh, wow... It’s neither, it’s just a name for your species,” explained Nolan lamely. “In Wakeworld you’ve been extinct—you’ve all been gone—for a long, long time. Long before our recorded history begins.”

“Don’t feel extinct,” said Thag. “Here, you seem a bit excitable. Try some of this.”

He held out his hand-rolled cigarette.

“What is it?”

“Thagweed, as you call it. Good for you.”

“Thagweed.... named for you...”

“Well, yes. I mean, I was the first one to use it, and introduced it to all you little folk when you got here, so it ended up with my name on it. Still good, though!”

Nolan sniffed it.

It wasn’t tobacco, or marijuana. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it smelled foul.

He took an experimental puff.

He gagged.

He smoked cigarettes every so often, but this was unfiltered foulness. It tasted like burning excrement in his mouth.

He handed it back to Thag, and spit again and again to try to clear his mouth.

It didn’t work, but he suddenly noticed that his pulse was awfully loud. He stopped spitting, and listened.

Not just his pulse... he could hear more clearly than he ever had in his life: his pulse, the insects chirping away in the garden, the wind sighing through the arched marble roof above, the creaking of masts and the flapping of the sails in the harbor.

He could hear Thag’s heart beating away, and Chuang’s!

And his vision! He looked down at the city below, and he could see it! Not the blurred images he was used to even with his glasses on, but actually see it clearly, even in the darkness. The buildings, the people, the cat stalking the top of the wall so far below... everything.

He gaped, speechless.

“Your first time, I see,” said Thag, taking another drag himself.

“It amplifies all your senses,” explained Chuang. “It’s mildly habit-forming, but the biggest problem is that it slows your reflexes considerably. And of course, in addition to amplifying your vision and hearing and helping you to think clearly, it also amplifies your sense of taste and smell... and it tastes and smells hideous.”

The taste was as awful as it had been, no, even worse. He had forgotten it in the sudden rush of sensory amplification, but now he was aware of it with a vengeance.

He collapsed to all fours, retching.

Thag poured him a cup of tea and held it out.

“It also wears off very quickly,” he said. “Along with the slower reflexes, and the fact that the smell is so strong, that makes it pretty useless in combat.”

Nolan sat on the ground, holding his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

“...that was quite an experience...”

He slowly got up and held out his cup for another drink of tea.

“I have no doubt I can develop a cultivar that doesn’t taste so bad. Might be able to do something about the slowed reflexes, too.”

He spit again.

“Ugh. That is really foul stuff, Sergeant. How do you stand it?”

“Practice. Lots of practice.”

Chuang led him back to the dining hall for another ale, and later to his quarters.

A few days later they met with the King, explaining their plans in detail. The King had a few questions relating to operating the Madrasah, but he’d already made the decision to go ahead with the school. They were just filling in the details, and figuring out where to build it.

Godsworn Cressida did not join them, but had appointed Healer Naaheed as her representative. An old, white-haired woman, she looked frail and starving.

“There are two possible sites available right now,” said the King. “One is in The Lofts, where a recent fire destroyed a large area of wooden structures of dubious repute, and the other in High City, where a large estate has become recently empty, and the current owner would no doubt be delighted to sell it off—I can’t imagine anyone else wanting to purchase that particular estate. They are of similar size, but both would need to be cleared and new structures built.”

Chuang nodded.

“Of course, the Liang estate... empty, and likely to remain vacant for quite some time.

“Putting the Madrasah in High City, though, would probably keep out everyone but nobility and the wealthy. I would vastly prefer the Cirque of the Jade Bull, even if it is The Lofts... I think we’d be better off with talented students than rich ones.”

“What is The Lofts?” asked Nolan.

“It’s the entertainment district,” explained Kuranes. “All kinds of entertainment, and all kinds of people, including laborers from the farms and markets, ship’s crew, and more. It is always a lively, colorful place, but also quite rowdy and even dangerous, at times.”

He turned to Chuang.

“I agree that we want to attract the best people, regardless of background or connections, but are you sure The Lofts would be a safe place? It could be walled, of course, but locking it up inside a high wall does not strike me as the best solution... perhaps it would be better to site a larger campus somewhere outside the city walls entirely?”

“Why not do both?” suggested Perwira. “Establish the school outside the city proper, with plenty of room to grow, and use the site in The Lofts as a clinic, offering medical assistance to city residents? Dealing with actual patients is the best way to teach young physicians.”

“A wonderful suggestion! Physician Nolan, Healer Naaheed, what do you think?”

“I don’t really know enough to have an opinion,” said Nolan, “but it’s probably better to start with plenty of space in case we expand later.”

Healer Naaheed nodded. “Outside the city—and therefore not tied so explicitly to Celephaïs—is best, I believe.”

“I agree. It sounds like the best approach to me, too,” said Chuang. “It will be a bit more complicated to build the school, because we would have to construct new sewerage and water systems, but I’m sure Chief Artificer Marcus can handle it without undue difficulty. He will handle all the construction, of course.”

“He’s in the process of, um, cleaning the city’s sewerage and water supply network now, and I’m sure he would jump at the chance to do something more creative and less odorous.”

“Excellent! Thank you, my Lord,” said Chuang. “We will meet with the Chief Artificer as soon as convenient, and begin work on choosing a site.”

Chapter 11

He’d really hated his drill sergeant, way back when he was just a Marine recruit. TT smiled internally, careful not to show any sign of it on his face, because now he was a drill sergeant. Sort of.

“Whatta bunch of weaklings!” he shouted. “The Reeve told me you were his best. His best, he said... and you wimps can’t even carry a simple basket without whining!?”

Twelve sweat- and dirt-streaked villagers struggled past him, with large baskets on their backs. Unlike the ten-kilogram weights he and Roach had run with that day, these were full loads: twenty-five kilograms, on a five-kilometer run. Seven men and four women, and he had to admit—privately, of course—that they would have made damn fine Marines. Even after hauling those baskets full of rocks through the forest and then up that cliff, they still had plenty of grit left, even if a few of them were running out of energy.

They’d trotted the course with full baskets for a few days, then run it for a few days with half loads. Today was their first day with full loads, and goddamn if it didn’t look like they’d all make it!

He chivvied them over the rocky path until they reached the little pile of rocks he’d erected, then collapsed. Time for a five-minute rest, but once they got up to speed this rest would be eliminated, too.

He’d never said anything about what they should or shouldn’t bring, and he was gratified to see that every one of them had brought water. In fact—he sniffed again—at least some of them had vinegar-water, it smelled like. Even better.

He walked through them, looking at their feet and legs, and making sure nobody was injured. Nobody had anything worse than a few scratches, but he noticed that the toe-strap on one of Ethelinda’s sandals had broken.

He debated whether he should say anything, or fix it, and decided against it. The Reeve had advised him that the crucial point in their training was not physical strength or deadliness in combat, but the ability to make decisions quickly, find solutions, and get the job done.

Even as he debated telling her, she bent over it herself, examining the torn rope, then tore a long strip of cloth from her tunic and twisted it up to serve as a temporary strap, knotting it tightly.

He figured it might last back to the village, but would keep an eye on her... if it broke again would she stop to fix it and be late, or keep pushing regardless and injure her foot?

Roach, in spite of his youth and small stature, was keeping up with the others. After failing to complete the course that first time, he’d taken it as a personal challenge, determined to overcome his weakness. And he’d made enormous progress since, his body rippling with the toned muscle of an Olympic gymnast.

He’d make a hell of a spy, too, he guessed. The kid’s memory was phenomenal... he could look at something, even something pretty visually complicated, and recall it picture-perfect an hour later. TT had tested him once with a dozen rocks selected for various colors and shapes, like Kipling’s Jewel Game. He’d spread them out on the table, let Roach look at them for thirty seconds, and then hid them and asked Roach to describe them. And he did, in minute detail, pointing out minute differences in shape or color or texture that TT hadn’t even noticed.

He was probably fifteen or sixteen, TT guessed, but looked three or four years younger. Young enough to look like the son of one of the others, in fact... and they were certainly not old. They were probably all in the twenties. One looked like he might be a tad under twenty, and one was beginning to go bald on top and might be older, but “in their twenties” was a reasonable guess.

Once they got back to the village they’d take another five-minute breather, then start on the makeshift obstacle course, then a nice round of push-ups and crunches to relax.

By the time lunch rolled around they’d be good and hungry, he expected.

He probed his abdomen, and was delighted at the lack of pain. He needed to get fully back in shape, too, although he hadn’t lost too much ground.

It almost felt good to be stretching those muscles again after so long, even if it did hurt... getting a sword through the gut was not something he wanted to try again.

“Alright, boys and girls! Nap time’s over, and the Reeve is waiting for his rocks, so let’s get down this cliff and deliver them!”

They all got back on their feet, some faster than others, and he got them moving again.

“From next week this is going to be a race, and tail-end Charlie gets another rock in his basket, so get a move on!”

They got a move on.

Later, after lunch, he picked up twelve pebbles, half white and half black, and dropped them into a small sack.

“Each of you take one pebble. Black team over here, and white team over there.”

They gathered around, and he noticed that while they didn’t form a line they did yield to each other politely.

A few minutes later they were randomly split into two teams.

“Two of those rocks had a chunk of some reddish stone mixed in... who picked those?”

Two students stepped forward, one from each team.

“You are the team leaders for today,” said TT. “The rules are simple. If anybody get seriously injured, the game ends immediately and everyone helps the injured. Any problems with that?”

Everyone nodded or grunted assent.

“You all know my canteen, right? Little bamboo thing with a cork in it? Got a red cover on it so I don’t misplace it, remember? Well, it so happens that when we were up on the cliff today I put it down when we stopped for a quick rest, and I forgot to pick it up again.

“The team that brings it to me, here, gets a free ale tonight.”

They stood waiting for him to continue.

“That’s the only rule!?”

“Yes, that’s the only rule... What are you waiting for? GO!” he shouted, and they jumped into action.

White leader immediately called out three names, and ordered them to attack black team, him leading the charge. The other two—the fastest, TT noticed—he told to go get the water bottle.

Black leader stood in shock for a moment, and then shouted that everyone should run for the cliff, but it was too late... white team was upon them, and the four white team members immediately grabbed onto four black team members, and managed to trip a fifth.

The last black team member was off running, but he was one of the larger men in the group, and not the fastest. White team had the clear advantage.

TT watched the melee... black team had weight on their side, but white team didn’t have to actually defeat them in combat, merely delay them. Eventually, the five black team members began to coordinate their actions, and one at a time managed to pin the white team members down, and tie them up. They were out of the game unless they managed to free themselves somehow.

Black leader assigned one person to keep watch over the captives, and vanished into the forest with the other three members.

TT wanted to tag along to see how things played out, but he couldn’t be in both places at once, and somebody was bringing his water bottle here.

He sat down and had a drink from his other water bottle, which had been hanging on a strap over his shoulder all the time.

The black team guard member was splitting his attention between the captives—who froze when he turned his head their way—and the forest. White team, on the other hand, was obviously working to free themselves... and it looked like one of them had found a sharp rock to cut their rope with.

Sure enough, the guard looked away a few minutes later, and the sharp rock was passed quickly to another bound captive. By the time the guard looked back everyone was still again.

It took a while, but eventually three white team members were free. The fourth was too far away to reach without making a lot of noise, and remained bound.

There was a lot of shouting coming from the forest.

Judging from what he could hear, black leader had spread his people out in a line to find the returning white members, figuring—correctly—that they’d get to the water bottle first. When they spotted one of the white runners two of them immediately raised the alarm and pursued, and the other two dropped back toward TT to better cover the approach.

The second runner burst from the forest, running toward TT, and the two black defenders moved to block her. She had the water bottle in her hands, and in a final Hail Mary threw it over their heads straight at TT.

It would have worked, too, except that the black member guarding the captives made a magnificent leap into the air to intercept it, landing hard but with the water bottle in his hands.

He turned and stood there, smiling triumphantly, as the three white team captives who had freed themselves leapt up and tackled him, stealing the water bottle.

One of them grabbed it and ran to TT, handing it off politely, then turning to walk back to the pile of bodies and help them back up.

The fight was over.

“Thank you for my bottle, Ubaid of Khem. White team wins!”

The rest of the twelve walked over, panting from their exertions. Nobody seemed to be seriously injured, but there were a fair number of scrapes and cuts.

“Good job,” said TT. “Get something to drink and sit down.

“Anyone hurt?”

“Yeah, Thora kicked me right in the family jewels!”

Everyone laughed.

“Is that what that was?” quipped Thora, a blonde Valkyrie from Perdóndaris. “I thought it was just some little peas you had in your pocket.”

“Come share my ale tonight and let’s see if you still think they’re little then!”

“You wish!”

“OK, settle down,” admonished TT. “What you do on your own time is your affair, but this is my time. Tell me what you noticed in the game. C’mon, speak up.”

Everyone fell quiet, but the banter had relaxed them a little, taking off the edginess of the fight.

“Khairi, since your mouth doesn’t seem to have been hurt by that kick in the jewels, why don’t you tell us what you think went wrong? And right?”

The black Pargite—who had been white team, as it happens—took another drink of water, no doubt to give himself time to think.

“The first and biggest problem was that black team took too long to get started.”

“We tied four of you up!” came the counter.

“Not very well, though... and it took five of you to do it!”

“Well, OK, that was a problem, but we did intercept you on your return. After we let you tire yourselves out climbing up and down that cliff!”

The argument went on for some time as others joined in, pointing out problems or offering alternative solutions. TT let them talk it through, avoiding making any suggestions as to what the right call might have been.

There wasn’t any “right” call, of course, because every situation is different, and things never play out the same. In this particular case both teams had made errors, but the important point was that white won. This time.

Suddenly they fell silent, and TT turned around to see what they were looking at.

Reeve Somphone and Mistress Mochizuki were walking towards them from the treeline.

“You are training them to think as teams,” observed Somphone. “We’ve rarely had a need for that in the past...”

“We rarely have to operate in teams,” agreed Mochizuki. “There may be a team in place for a specific operation, but usually the point of the spear is alone. Or several people operating independently of each other.”

“Assassins as spies are very difficult to stop,” said TT, “but also far less likely to be able to affect the course of a battle. A war, perhaps, but rarely a battle.”

“True,” agreed Mochizuki. “We are usually employed on the strategic level, rarely on the tactical one, for the simple reason that whenever possible we avoid combat entirely.”

“A small unit like this, only a twelve or so, could do significant damage to enemy forces, damage far greater than the losses they might take. When part of a larger force they can continue to fight, and fight effectively, even if communication with higher command is lost.”

“The nobility will never accept it,” mused Somphone. “Which is fine with me, since most of the people who would never accept it are our enemies, one way or another...”

Mochizuki said something inaudible to Somphone, then nodded to TT.

“Excellent training, Master TiTi,” she said. “By all means, please continue. However, note that our regular training will also continue, and you will have to coordinate with the Reeve on schedules.”

She walked off toward the village where her horse and mounted escort waited. Somphone stayed to hear the continuing review of the game once it started again, and began to contribute his own observations.

Whether intentionally or not he offered one remarkably silly suggestion, and TT was gratified to see his students jump on it, pointing out its painfully obvious deficiencies.

All in all, a most successful day, TT thought.

A few days later, as they jogged through the forest along the riverbank, TT suddenly stopped.

“That water looks very cold, don’t you think?”

Everybody just looked at him... they’d gotten used to his seemingly innocuous comments by now.

“I feel an urgent need to get to the other side, but really don’t want to get my feet wet,” he continued. “And because I’m old and my eyesight is so poor, I really have to get to the other side and home to Farlaway before sundown.

“I figure the sun will drop below the mountains in another forty-five minutes or so... and it will take me about fifteen minutes to get back to Farlaway from here... so you have about thirty minutes to get me a bridge across this river! MOVE IT!”

It was a bridge consisting of a tree trunk with two parallel vine ropes to keep him from slipping off into the water, but it was a bridge, and it was done with time to spare.

It helped that everyone was packing a sword or axe, of course, but even so it would have been difficult without someone taking charge.

He was almost proud, and everyone got an ale that night.

Every night he talked with Somphone about tactics, adapting his own training (which was based on firearms) to the shorter-range combats of the Dreamlands. Somphone, meanwhile, explained how combat worked here, where firearms were almost unheard of.

They developed a strong training program that would be added to the existing program at Farlaway, training his select group in small-unit operations.

TT began to wonder why Somphone was so interested in working with him on it, until one morning he found out why.

“You are bound for Celephaïs tomorrow, Master TiTi, together with young Roach.”

“I... What? Celephaïs? Why?”

“You agreed with me last night that I had a good understanding of your methods,” explained Somphone, “It’s time for you to return to Commander Jake and help strengthen his force. I hear that you will be installed as a sergeant.”

“A sergeant?” TT laughed. “Well, I was a Gunnery Sergeant before, so I guess it makes sense.”

“You know Captain Danryce?”

“Yeah, sure... met him in the Eastern Desert when Thuba Mleen was after us. Big guy, swings one hell of a big sword, too.”

“You’ll be in his twelve, it seems.”

“Good. Can’t wait to get back out in the field... I mean, training your kids is a lotta fun and all that, but that’s not really what I signed up for.”

“My kids!” laughed Somphone. “I’ll tell them you said that.”

“And Roach goes with me?”

“Yes, Mistress Mochizuki and I agreed that he should stay with you for now. You are bonding far better than we had hoped, and we believe you will help him attain his full potential.”

“He’s got some amazing talents, that for sure. And some real problems, I’m afraid.”

“Such as...?”

“You know he kills animals, right? And presumably people...”

Somphone signed.

“Yes, unfortunately. He doesn’t torture them, and he doesn’t even seem to enjoy the killing... it’s the same as eating lunch, or belching, to him. He’s fascinated by death, and the process of change from life to death.

“Fortunately, far less now that before, though we can’t tell if that’s because he is mellowing, or simply tired from all your training.”

“Killing is just a part of my job, too, but it’s something to be avoided unless necessary.”

“As it is for us, as it is for us,” said Somphone. “I was a very good spy, but not so good an assassin.

“Be that as it may, Roach will also help you improve the monastery’s defenses against other spies and assassins. He sees things differently from a fighter and may have some invaluable suggestions.”

“I’m sure he will,” agreed TT. “His comments in our after-action reviews are always spot-on, although he usually just sits and listens.”

“I believe Captain Rutger will also visit the monastery in the near future,” continued Somphone. “Or possibly someone else from the King’s Guard.”

“The King’s Guard is involved in all this, too?”

TT made a face.

“I’m not a big fan of complicated oversight, even if Rutger is at least a military man.”

“Commander Jake is in charge there, as always.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that story before, but we’ll see.”

The next morning TT and Roach left for Celephaïs, escorted by six of his former students, reaching it in the late afternoon to be greeted at the Boreas Gate in the outer wall by Captain Rutger himself.

He welcomed them and offered his escort lodging for the night, which they gratefully accepted. They’d head back the following day.

Rutger escorted them to one of the barracks used by the King’s Guard, located in the merchant’s quarter, facing the Street of Pillars. It had immediate access to the Cirque of Moon—the huge park encircling the Pinnacle—but was also positioned so the guards could block the gate there at any time, if needed, preventing access to the Pinnacle and the Palace.

He felt right at home when he saw the off-duty guards lounging, dressing their weapons, playing cards, and generally acting like bored soldiers everywhere. His professional eye noted that while there was considerable variation in clothing, they all wore sturdy clothing selected for ease of movement. Leather harnesses were common, everybody had a dagger at their hip, and most of them sported at least one scar somewhere.

Roach hung back quietly, taking it all in.

“You grew up here, right?” asked TT.

“Yes, in the marketplace... I only tried to enter the barracks once, and that was the Watch... they chased me out and it wasn’t worth the risk to try again.”

“Never had a run-in with the King’s Guard, then?”

Roach laughed.

“Commander Britomartis and the King were probably about to cut my head off when Mistress Mochizuki claimed me for one of her own. The constables—the Watch, that is—knew me very well.”

“You’ve met Britomartis?”

“Briefly, yes. She was a bit upset with me when I killed one of the Poietes.”

“What’s a Poietes?”

“Sort of a noble. They give the title to experts in various arts, like poetry or dance or whatever. Poietes is for men, and Poietria for women. I think the guy I stuck was into martial arts or something.”

“And you killed him.”

“Well, he tried to take me and a girl hostage, and gave me an opening. Stuck a knife in his eye.”

TT just sat there, speechless.

“And this was a few years ago, and you’re like, seventeen or so now? So you must have been, um, maybe ten or twelve?”

“Yeah, probably. Don’t know how old I am,” said Roach.

“Yeah, I can see why the Watch might be a bit taken back by that,” agreed TT. “And why Mochizuki thought you had potential.”

Rutger had said the airship would depart very early the next day, and while they were free to see Celephaïs if they wished, they were to be back to the barracks by dawn.

The guards around them were polite, of course, but they were obviously outsiders, and treated as such.

“How ’bout you show me the sights, kid? Eat some city food, live it up a little?”

“I’ve never seen the sights in Celephaïs...”

“What, you grew up here, right?”

“Yes, but... the sights where I grew up are not very interesting, I’m afraid. Begging, stealing, a little robbery. The Watch and I rarely visited the same types of places...”

“Ever wanted to eat in one? Like a real customer?”

Roach grinned, nodded.

“OK, let’s go. You pick the place, and I’ll treat you.”

“I know just the place!”

Roach led the way out into the dusk-lit city, walking along the cleared space on the outside of the Wall of Aglaea toward The Lofts: the entertainment district.

“The Watch doesn’t let people build anything on the outside of the wall more than one story high,” he explained. A lot of people do it anyway, but eventually the Watch comes along and tears it down.”

“Defensive measure,” nodded TT. “Anyone ever attacked the city?”

Roach shrugged.

“Sorry, don’ know. They’re pretty serious about their walls, though.”

They crossed Cornwall Avenue, and suddenly the streets were full of barkers and peddlers, all doing their very best to painlessly separate visitors from their cash.

The air was full of sound: women laughing, singing, the sound of drumming feet, some stringed instrument being plucked, horses, a constant murmur of voice, voices, voices... They were bombarded by a rich stew of smells, from perfume and incense to spice, soy sauce, wine, horse manure, vomit... TT loved it.

Roach led him deeper into the tumult, finally emerging from the maze at a small plaza, in front of a public bath. Facing the bath was a whitewashed, two-story building with a row of red paper lanterns hanging all the way along the wall. A well-weathered sign above the door read “Mi’s Place,” and Roach pointed at the door.

“Granny Mi used to give me leftovers sometimes, but I always wanted to sit in front...”

“Well, then let’s go do that right now,” said TT. He put his hand on Roach’s shoulder and they walked up to the open doorway together.

The big man next to the door—the bouncer, TT guessed—held up his hand to stop them.

“You Roach?”

“No, my name is Rogier,” said Roach, seriously.

“We’re here as guests of Captain Rutger of the King’s Guard,” explained TT. “And we’re paying customers, too.”

He handed the bouncer a gold coin to emphasize the point.

“There used to be a kid who looked a lot like you, named Roach... came around here a lot,” said the bouncer, but let them pass.

It was dim inside, the only light a variety of oil lamps and lanterns suspended here and there amid the gloom. The floor was dotted with small table, most built high for standing but a few groupings surrounded by chairs for larger, more leisurely groups.

In the center of the room, surrounded by larger lanterns fitted with reflectors, was the stage. It was raised about a meter off the floor, connected to the back by a curtained door. Most of the stage protruded onto the floor, so customers could see it more easily.

TT had a good idea just what sort of establishment this was, and he suspected the cooking was probably not what made it so popular.

And it was popular... every chair was taken, many of them occupied by two people in a very friendly position, and the standing tables were packed.

Waiters circulated through the room—along with bouncers, TT noticed—handing out drinks and collecting coins in payment. Cash transactions only. No surprise there, he thought.

He laid claim to one of the remaining tables, a standing table off to the side. The view was partially blocked by a pillar, but they could still see most of the stage.

A waitress glanced in their direction, and he waved her over.

“Two ales. You got any food?”

She put two large mugs of ale on the table from her tray, and held out her hand.

“Sure. Beef, venison, fish, horse, deino, chicken... you name it. What’ll it be?”

He slapped some coins into her palm; they vanished promptly.

“I’ve never had deino,” he said to Roach. “How ’bout you?”

“Beef. I want beef!”

“Beef and deino, please. Big plates,” he said, and handed her another coin. “And bring more ale when you come back, too.”

The waitress danced off into the crowd, selling drinks as she went. Her tray was emptying fast.

TT sipped his ale and watched the crowd.

It was mostly men, as he expected, but there were a few women mixed into the spectators. Of course there were women circulating among the men, seeking customers for a quick trip upstairs, but he ignored them.

Looked like a broad cross-section of the city, too, he thought... maybe more laborers and fishermen than he’d expected, but there were a number of fighters mixed in, a few plump dudes in rich clothes (sitting at one of the tables, of course), some scruffy, rough-dressed men he figured must be hunters or just plain bandits, and others.

Just as their food arrived, heaps of roast meat on platters as he had ordered, a drum started pounding in the back somewhere and the noise of the crowd rose sharply. A few catcalls broke out.

Roach immediately attacked his meat, cramming it in as if someone would snatch it away too soon.

TT tried a bit of deino... it wasn’t bad, he thought. Pretty chewy, but a nice mix of sweet and sour flavors. He thought maybe the meat was a little sour, and the sauce they’d poured over it provided the sweet. And the fire!

Damn! that sauce really snuck up on you! He slugged down the rest of his ale and hurriedly reached for the new one the waitress had brought.

Pity it wasn’t cold. Whatever, it was good stuff.

The girls came out dressed in something filmy that trailed in the air as they moved and hid most of the things the men had come to see. It wasn’t long before the beat picked up and the girls began to dance, with bits and pieces of veils and flimsy scarf-like things floating into the air to be snatched up by eager men.

TT noticed that while Roach continued to shovel in the food, his pace had dropped off a bit, and his eyes spent more time on the stage than the platter. Well, he was probably seventeen or eighteen, he guessed... suddenly very interested in the other sex. And probably a virgin, he realized...

It only took a few minutes for the first coin to hit the stage, and the pace picked up quickly until the whole stage floor was glittering. The girls—he hoped they were getting their cut of that—we mostly naked now, making vain attempts to dance while concealing their assets, and simultaneously advertising them.

Two of them began petting each other in the middle of the stage as the music began to crescendo, and suddenly one of the watching men reached out to grab one of the dancer’s legs. She stumbled, caught herself, and kicked him smack in the face as everyone shouted and two bouncers moved in. The show went on.

They dragged the offender off toward the back, where an old lady stood, watching and waiting.

“That’s Granny Mi!” said Roach, staring.

She snapped her head up and stared back, somehow hearing him in spite of the noise from the stage. She broke into a big grin, which vanished again when the bouncers arrived with their catch. They all slipped through curtain into the back.

“What’ll they do to that guy?”

“Cut off a finger,” said Roach, shrugging. “Granny Mi doesn’t let anyone bother the dancers, and that’s the rules. One touch, one finger... she lets them choose which one, though.”

“But there are plenty of women working the floor. I think I saw one guy, too,” said TT.

“Yeah, but they’re different from the dancers. The dancers are special, and expensive.”

A few minutes later one of the bouncers approached their table.

TT saw him coming and tensed... he wasn’t here to start a fight, and didn’t want one started for him.

The bouncer merely nodded, and turned to Roach.

“Master Roach? The Grandmother wants to see you.”

Roach put his drink down, but before he could move TT placed his hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Mind if I come too?”

“The Grandmother said both of you,” grunted the bouncer, and turned away toward the back.

He let Roach go, and walked with him after the bouncer, which was surprisingly easy in spite of the crowding because everyone did their best to get out of his way as soon as they saw him coming.

They stepped through the curtain into the back.

TT saw the chairs, and the butcher’s knife standing diagonally up in the table. The tabletop was bloody, but there was no obvious finger. No sign of the man they’d dragged back here, either... presumably he went out the back door. Or was thrown, more likely.

Granny Mi—The Grandmother—held her arms wide, welcoming Roach like the prodigal son returned. She hugged him close, whispering something to him as she hugged him tight.

She was dressed in baggy pants, some blue fabric covered in embroidered flowers, and a loose, caftan-like top of white. She was also wearing at least a dozen necklaces of multi-colored stones—maybe gems?—and every finger seemed to have a ring on it.

Her face was wrinkled, and wisps of white hair stuck out from under the red-and-white checked headscarf tired under her chin.

Her eyes were a piercing, pale blue, checking him out in an instant and pretty clearly not missing a thing.

She finally released Roach, holding his hand like a little boy.

“And so you are Master TiTi...”

“You know my name!?”

“Yes, you arrived earlier with my little Roach. I know.”

She looked fondly at Roach again.

“Not so little anymore, is he? Are you to thank for that?”

“He and I are, uh, partners. I’m helping train him.”

“I saw who you came with... I know what he’s being trained for, but you do not seem to be a Kingfisher. Your bearing is more straightforward.”

“I’ve always been in the military, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? So you’re from Wakeworld, then?”

“Yes, but here for good now, it seems.”

“Come, join me,” she invited, pointing down the hallway to another door. “My old bones need to rest a bit.”

She didn’t walk like an old lady with creaky bones... she strode briskly, and waved her fingers at the chunky woman guarding the door. The guard opened the door for her and got out of the way, because The Grandmother didn’t even slow down. She just kept walking at the same speed, confident that the door would be open by the time she got there.

And it was, of course.

She walked through first, without even a glance at the guard, followed by Roach almost on her heels, and a bemused TT behind.

The room was a rainbow of color... rugs of every description cover the floor, small and large, overlapping at random. Cushions were scattered here and there, no two alike and none with less than half a dozen colors. Tapestries covered the walls, at least two or three layers in places, some abstract patterns, others scenes or fanciful beasts. Even the ceiling had fabric hanging, like an awning, hiding the wood above.

She lifted an enormous gray cat from a cushion and sat upon it herself, placing the cat on her lap, gesturing to them with her other hand to sit.

TT sat after carefully checking that there were no more cats occupying that cushion. Roach immediately sat down next to The Grandmother, and an orange-and black cat promptly approached and demanded attention.

He looked about the room again, and noticed that there were at least a dozen cats there, hidden among the fabric and the colors.

Something butted against his leg—sure enough, a cat. A kitten, actually... no, two kittens, one black with white paws and the other grey-striped. He scratched them, and discovered once again that kittens had very sharp claws. His legs were bare, and he was hard pressed to scritch them enough to stop them from tearing his legs to ribbons.

“I see you like cats, Master TiTi,” said The Grandmother. “And they appear to like you.”

“I would like them better if they would stop stabbing me,” he said, picking up the black kitten and setting it down on an adjacent cushion. He tried rocking the cushion with his foot to keep it amused, but it came back to him immediately.

The Grandmother clapped her hands, once, and immediately a young woman dressed in a simple white tunic entered the room from behind one of the tapestries, which appeared to conceal a door, and at The Grandmother’s command collected the kittens, taking them off elsewhere.

“Perhaps some tea, Master TiTi?”

“Thank you, ma’a.... uh, Grandmother.”

She smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth.

Two more women, similarly dressed in white tunics, came in carrying trays of tea and various fruit and sweets.

“Would you like some more beef, little Roach?”

“Yes please, Granny Mi.”

She smiled again, like a grandmother playing with her favorite grandchild, and leaned closer, grasping his earlobe in his fingers.

“You will address me as Grandmother, Roach.”

Roach sat up straight, eyes momentarily wide.

“Yes, Grandmother! Forgive me, Grandmother!”

She let go of his ear, and patted him on the head.

“Good boy.”

TT noticed a little blood on Roach’s ear... her fingernails were long, and pointed, he realized.

“Now, then,” she said, turning to TT, “you say you’re training him?”

“Yes. I have some skills that, um, his current trainers seem to lack,” he replied, not sure how much of a secret Farlaway and Mochizuki might be.

She laughed.

“Oh, dear. No need to play coy here, Master TiTi—I know all about Farlaway and its Mistress!”

“So you know what he’s being trained as, then...”

“Of course! He’ll make a wonderful spy and assassin, I have no doubt,” she said, beaming as if her son had brought home a straight-A report card. “And what skills do you possess? Surely you have little to teach Mistress Mochizuki about spying!”

“I’m a soldier, ma’a... Grandmother. I’m helping them learn how to operate in teams.”

“In teams...”

She thought that one over for a minute.

“They’ve almost always operated alone. I wonder what the Mistress is planning next...”

“Their plans are hidden from me, too, I’m afraid... I’m just the hired help.”

He took a sip of the tea: something hot and spicy. Cinnamon, maybe, and... ginger?

“You seem to be more than a mere burlesque operator, Grandmother,” he ventured.

“I’m sure Roach has told you, Master TiTi. I run The Lofts.”

“The whole entertainment district, you mean?”

“Everything between the two interior walls, from the Tanarian Way to Cornwall Avenue, is mine, one way or another.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re part of the city government...”

“Hardly,” she laughed, “but I do have my say.”

“You raised Roach?”

“The city raised him: the markets, Low City, the sea wharfs, the streets and the sewers. I merely helped him when he needed it, recognizing his unique gifts.”

“Unique gifts indeed.”

A young man came in carrying a tray with roasted meat (beef, of course), vegetables, fruit, and even an astonishing bowl of ice cream!

The Grandmother indicated a table to set it down on, and pushed Roach in that direction.

“Eat, Roach. You’re bigger than you were but not big enough.”

As Roach concentrated on the food, the two of them were almost alone.

“And you, Master TiTi? As Roach’s guest, by all means feel at ease to request anything you might like.”

“Uh, thank you, Grandmother,” he said. “Why Roach? The name I mean.”

“Why not? It’s what people called him, and it’s his. Not as strange as TiTi, I note.”

It was TT’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, well, my name’s actually Thomas T. Highweigh, former Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corp. TT is a lot easier to say.”

“And why did you come here?”

“Roach said he’d always wanted to eat here, so we did.”

“Just eat?”

“He didn’t mention what type of establishment it was, Grandmother, and I didn’t ask.”

He thought for a moment, then decided to ask anyway.

“You know, he’s got some issues, the kid. He is incredibly talented, both mentally and physically, but he likes death a little too much, he can’t read or write, and he doesn’t have any friends.”

“I had thought I was the only friend he had, but I see now he has found another. It’s obvious he looks up to you. So?”

“So he’s a man now, even if he will keep growing a bit more. The right woman could give him an awful lot of confidence that might help.”

“My, you are a very forthright man, Gunnery Sergeant Thomas T. Highweigh!” she laughed. “And you would be seeking ‘the right woman’ for yourself, I imagine?”

“Well, I hadn’t planned on it, but that floor show of yours did stir my imagination a little...”

She clapped again, and one of the women came trotting in.

“Escort Master TiTi to Estina’s room. When Roach is finished, escort him to Sigrata. Both Estina and Sigrata are to attend to them until...”

She turned back to TT.

“...until when?”

“We have to be back at the Guard barracks by dawn, but really I don’t...”

“Do not refuse one of my gifts, Master TiTi. Until the Hour of the Retreating Tiger.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

TT worked it out in his head... that would be the second half of the Hour of the Tiger, which meant, um, from 04:00 to 05:00 hours. Yeah, that’d work.

“Estina?”

“A young lady from Perdóndaris I think you will find amusing. You do like blondes?”

“I... Yeah, love ’em!”

TT gave up and decided to just enjoy it.

He didn’t get as much sleep that night as he had planned, because he did indeed like blondes, and it turned out that Estina was one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the pleasure of. Not to mention talented...

Roach was very quiet as they walked back to the barracks that morning.

TT grinned and swatted him on the back.

“No more ‘kid’ for you, Master Roach,” he said. “You’re a man now.”

Roach stood up a little straighter but didn’t reply.

Captain Rutger and the airship were waiting when they arrived.

Chapter 12

“Airship approaching! Flying the colors of Celephaïs!”

At the lookout’s call Nadeen’s twelve raced to their scorpions, crewing the key stations around the enclosing wall. If it was a serious threat and more were needed, the trained staff from Ridhi’s twelve would join them. They didn’t have enough troops—yet—to crew all the scorpions and still be able to mount a defense of the gates.

Nadeen’s station was at the tower scorpion, and as she got it cocked and loaded she checked to see that everyone else was on the ball.

They were.

She’d run them ragged for the last few weeks until they knew where to go and what to do even in their sleep.

Come to think of it, she’d had them do it in the middle of the night a few times, and they might have been asleep!

The airship, a fairly small one probably with a crew of three, floated up level with the wall, taking it slow and easy so Nadeen and the others could see they posed no threat.

They were flying the pink rose on green, the pennant of Celephaïs, and as they got closer Nadeen could make out TT standing on the rear deck.

“They’re friendly! Stand down!” she called, and descended the tower to go greet them.

The crews unloaded the bolts and released the tension on the cords, gingerly. Even without a bolt loaded, the cords themselves could seriously injure someone if they weren’t careful.

The airship floated up to the bollard on the cliff wall, and one of the crew threw the hawser to one of Nadeen’s men, who pulled the airship in closer and looped it over the bollard. The board-and-chain gangplank was set up, and their visitors came over.

“Master TiTi! Welcome to Fort Campbell!” called Nadeen, climbing up the ladder to the wall walkway. “We didn’t know you were coming back so soon; just got the message yesterday.”

“Hi, Nadeen... uh, Captain Nadeen. Congratulations on your promotion!”

She grinned.

“Took long enough! Danryce’s a captain now, too, you know... you’re his sergeant.”

“Great! Danny and I get along fine,” nodded TT, slinging his ruck up onto one shoulder. “This is Master Roach. He’s, uh, someone I’m training.”

She gave Roach a little nod, “Nadeen of Lhosk, in charge of fort defense.”

“Roach of Celephaïs.”

“You’re with the King?”

“He’s one of Mochizuki’s people,” said TT. “And a lot older than he looks; don’t be fooled.”

They walked to the stairs at the end of the roof and descended to the ground.

The air stank of horse urine: they were right next to Alchemist Mintran’s niter bed, where he produced saltpeter for gunpowder. Most of the odor escaped through the numerous arrow slits in the cliff wall, but there was still enough left to make them hurry past.

“Fort Campbell, huh? Figures... That was his base, you know, back in Wakeworld.”

“Yes, he told me. He’s named his company now, too... see the flag?”

She pointed to the pennant flying near the main gate, a bold gold scorpion on a bright red field.

“Scorpius Company.”

“Nasty little buggers, scorpions... used to have a lot of them back home, and you learn not to mess with ’em pretty fast.”

“There are not too many around here,” said Nadeen, “but Thuba Mleen and his desert troops will understand it just fine.”

Jake was in his residence-cum-office, as usual.

“TT! Good to see you again!” he said, leaping up to shake, then pull TT in for a quick slap on the back.

“Good to be here, Jake. Real good.”

“Danny’s out on patrol with his twelve right now, but is supposed to be back this evening. He’s held your slot open, you know.”

“Yeah, Nadeen told me. Be good to get out in the field again.”

“How’s the gut? I thought you were gone.”

“All better. Thanks to a little black magic up in the clouds there, and a nice long recovery at Mochizuki’s little hideaway.”

“Good,” said Jake. “And who’s this?”

“This is Roach,” said TT. “Jake’s the Commander here.”

“Jake of Penglai.”

“Roach of Celephaïs.”

“He looks a little...”

“Yeah, I know. He looks a little young. He’s not, don’t worry,” assured TT. “And he can beat half the people here, probably.”

“And why’s he here?”

“He and I are a pair, for now... I’m training him up, and he’s teaching me a hell of a lot at the same time. He’d be dynamite on LRRPs.”

“That’s something we’ll have to get into soon, I think,” nodded Jake. “All our patrols stay pretty close for now, because we’re pretty thin on the ground, but once we beef things up a bit I want to start up a few long-range recon patrols.”

“I want to be in them, sir.”

“You will be, TT, because Danny’s twelve is special tactics.”

“Good. Anyone else here I know?”

“As it happens,...” said Jake, “here’s someone you know right now.”

Ridhi walked in with more tea.

“Mistress Ridhi!”

“Sergeant TiTi! Welcome back!” she said, setting the tray down on the table.

“Good to see you back on your feet!”

“Well, back on one and half feet, I think. No more marches for me.”

“Captain Ridhi is in charge of keeping the fort running,” explained Jake, “and doing one hell of job.

“Nadeen’s twelve is tasked with fort defense, working with Nadeen’s twelve as appropriate—her staff is more logistics and maintenance rather than combat, but they’re all on defense when needed.

“Danny and Long are training up for outside work, including merc jobs, but we haven’t been getting very many of those lately... people are getting scared of Thuba Mleen’s activity.

“We lost two people in the last few months, and the slots were filled with some mercs we captured. They’d been working for Thuba Mleen, spying on the fort.”

“You let them in!?”

“They’re pros, and everyone here agrees it’s perfectly reasonable once they give their bond. Which they did. One decided to stay on as fort staff with Ridhi, too. Woman named Beth.

“I was a little hesitant myself, but hey, this is the Dreamlands, right?”

“Not real happy with that...”

“It’s been working out fine. One guy we put into your six, in fact. An older veteran named Kareem. He knows this area very well, and is a pretty canny tactician. I think you’ll like him, once you get to know him.”

“So he was a merc?”

“Yup. Still is, really, but now he works for me.”

“What happened to the rest of them?”

“They said they wouldn’t attack us again and left,” said Jake. “Yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but everyone treated it as normal... and trustworthy.”

“Well, if you’re convinced I’m willing to give it a try, but I’m not gonna turn my back on him just yet, if that’s OK with you.”

“Turn your back on who?” came a voice from the doorway. “Your back’s to me now, you scoundrel!”

“Sergeant Long!”

TT jumped up and went to greet him.

“That’s Captain Long to you, Sergeant TiTi,” scolded Long, smiling. “Good to see you again.”

“Geez, everybody’s a captain but me!”

“If you hadn’t come back pretty soon I was thinking about putting someone else in that empty slot,” said Jake. “We need to get all the troops hot and ready.”

“So just four twelves, then? Danny and these three?” pointing at Nadeen, Ridhi, and Long.

“Six. Captain Beghara has her own twelve, and just last week we got a whole new Ibizim twelve to work with us. Each twelve has an embedded Ibizim, of course, but this new twelve is pretty damn amazing in the desert.”

“I’m not too keen on running around the desert if I can avoid it,” said TT. “Wasn’t much fun the last time I tried it.”

“And we’re expecting a heavy twelve from Celephaïs, with a special surprise.”

“What’s a ‘heavy’ twelve?”

“Eighteen people,” said Long. “One Captain, one or two sergeants.”

“It’s not standard,” added Nadeen, “but sometimes happens after a battle when a couple twelves are too degraded.”

“Is that what happened here?”

Jake smiled. “Nope.”

“And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope. Need to know,” said Jake smugly. “But you’ll find out soon enough, because they should be here within a week.”

“Which suggests overland, and not by airship.”

“If you say so!”

“Thanks for nothing, Jake.”

“My pleasure.”

Beghara arrived then to welcome TT home, and then offered to take him on a tour of the fort. Nadeen said she’d come along, but Jake and Long had business to attend to. Roach said he wanted to wander around, and Jake said to go ahead. He wandered off toward the stables.

The fort was bustling, even with the Ibizim twelve camped outside the walls, on the grassland below. They had three sand lizards with them, and he discovered that Yargui, the Ibizim who’s saved Jake and Nadeen and was now in his twelve, had her own sand lizard with her, too.

He wondered how to fit a lizard the size of a big dog into tactical operations.

Most of the troopers he saw sported red scorpion patches on their harnesses, or somewhere else visible.

“Captain Ridhi says the rest are coming from Ilarnek and should be here any day now, but there just aren’t very many seamstresses out here in the country.”

“Everyone seems to be pretty proud of it.”

“It makes us a stronger group.”

“What’s with the barracks in the church?” asked TT.

“You’ll have to ask Jake about that,” said Nadeen. “We’re keeping the reason quiet for now.”

“I think everyone knows already, you know... I’ve heard a few whispers,” said Beghara. “But it’s the Commander’s decision.”

“Wonderful,” said TT. “Another secret.”

A horn sounded from one of the guards on the wall.

“Sounds like Captain Danryce is back!”

He was indeed back, and rode through the main gate shortly.

His entire twelve—well, eleven, actually, since TT hadn’t been with them—was mounted on horses and armed with bows. Apparently they’d been practicing archery and horsemanship while he’d been gone.

Not to mention hunting! The horses also carried five deer, arrow-shot but not yet dressed.

Danny swung off his horses and handed the reins to one of his troopers.

“Sergeant TiTi! You’re back!”

Danny gave him a big backslap, but this time TT was expecting it, and braced for impact.

“Hey, Danny. Good to see ya! Nice fat deer!”

“Yeah, we were scouting down towards Drinen, near the river, and saw this nice big herd grazing. Figured Captain Ridhi wouldn’t mind more fresh meat.”

Ridhi’s people had already dragged the carcasses off to for dressing. They’d have venison tonight.

“So I hear you’re going to revolutionize combat for me,” said Danny.

“I don’t think you need any help fighting, Danny,” said TT. “You’ve been doing it for longer than I have. But I do have some ideas on training and tactics you might find useful.”

“Maybe. We’ll see, though, one way or another.”

“He’s brought a baby Kingfisher with him, too,” added Beghara. “Quiet kid.”

“Quiet, yeah, but he’s no kid!” said TT, jumping to his defense. “You’ll see.”

“One of Mochizuki’s people... Why’s he here?”

“Him and me, we’re a team now, Danny. I’m training him, and he’s training me, a little.”

“So is he in your six now?”

“Well... that’d be your decision. But I don’t think so,” said TT. “He’s just an observer for now, but if things go south he’ll be a good man to have around.”

“Will he follow orders?”

“Ah, mm, yeah, I think so.”

“Not a very convincing answer, Sergeant.”

“I’ll keep him out of the way, Captain.”

“Good. Do that,” grunted Danny. “Now let me get my horse settled down.”

TT accompanied Danny toward the stables, and Beghara and Nadeen begged off to attend to their own affairs.

The rest of his twelve were already there, taking off harnesses and saddled, and making sure their horses were in good shape.

Horsemaster Turan scurried around checking each horse individually, relaxing them with pats or pieces of apple, and making sure they had plenty of fresh straw. Water was constantly running through the trough, so that wasn’t a problem.

Roach was standing off to the side, just watching. He seemed especially interested in the new colts, only weeks old. There were three of them, two all black and one a sort of mottled brown-and-back mix, and they all seemed healthy.

TT noticed that one of the blacks was always by itself, though, and the other colts shied away from it whenever it approached. It didn’t seem scared, though... pranced right up to Roach and they examined each other for a while.

“That’s Storm,” said Danny, indicating the odd black with his chin. “The other black one is Thunder, and the brownish one is Meatball. No, I had nothing to do with picking their names.”

“Meatball?”

Danny shrugged.

“Storm doesn’t seem to get along with the other horses very well, but he loves people. Seems to love the Commander most of all, runs to greet him, tries to lick him at every opportunity.”

“So what’s so special about them, all the secrecy and everything?”

Danny hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“Master Chuang and the Horsemaster did something to the broodmares when they were pregnant. They say these colts are going to be a lot smarter than any horses we’ve ever seen. Maybe as smart as people, but I’m having trouble believing that.”

“They look like ordinary horses to me.”

“Yeah, they do... but if they get hungry they open their own stalls, open the door to the feed shed, and help themselves. The Horsemaster said it’s happened a few times already, and she suspects they’ve gotten into other mischief, too.”

“Sounds like fresh recruits to me...”

Danny laughed.

“It does at that!”

Danny gestured at one of his men who was helping get the horses settled down.

“Beorhtwig! Over here!”

The man, holding a saddle in his hands, looked over and nodded, then turned to carry the saddle into the stable. He came back out in a moment, and walked over, slapping his hands on his leather skirt.

“Captain?”

“Beorhtwig, this is Sergeant TiTi,” he said, then turned to TT. “He’s been acting sergeant in your absence, and doing a helluva job at it.”

“TT of Preston.”

“Beorhtwig of Daikos.”

They didn’t shake, as TT would have expected a world ago, but studied each other, and liked what they saw. Beorhtwig was pretty young, maybe mid-twenties TT guessed, but he looked ready: battle-worn gear but well cared-for, long sword fitted with a quickdraw sheath, weathered face.

TT noticed he was missing a finger on his left hand, but didn’t mention it.

That evening Jake was the weekly meeting with all the captains, and as he walked over toward Jake’s quarters with Danny, he asked about the missing finger.

“He’s pretty sensitive about that,” said Danny. “They have wyverns up in Daikos, where he’s from, and it’s a pretty big thing to tame one. Apparently he wanted to be a wyver-master, and tried to catch one. The only way to tame one is to earn its trust, then give it a piece of you so it learns your smell—and taste. He became friends with one and when it tried to bite him, he let it, thinking that was his chance... turned out the wyvern wasn’t that friendly after all, just hungry.

“It ruined him for a while, and he wandered around as a merc until eventually he ended up here.

“Damn fine soldier, but I think he still wants to fly.”

“Flying wyverns, huh? That’d be a pretty damn impressive air force...”

“Shantaks’d be better.”

“What’s a shantak?”

“Forget it, shouldn’t have brought it up,” said Danny. “Wyverns are natural, shantaks are... something else.

“If I saw a wyvern coming my way I might think about trying to fight it; if it was a shantak I’d run as fast and far as I could.”

“How do they hold up again bullets?”

“Against bullets...?” Danny thought about that one for a minute. “No idea... You’d need a whole lot of bullets to hurt one, I think. I’d rather not have to find out.”

Jake’s place had a huge, low table set up in the main room, and a handful of staff preparing for dinner. It seemed they were the last ones to arrive, and Danny introduced him to Ibizim.

“Khasar of the Blue Eagle,” he said. He was an older man, greying hair chopped short, mid-fifties Danny thought, and looked like he could fight off a pack of wolves bare-handed.

“He’s a bagatur, which is basically the Ibizim word for captain,” said Danny. “They usually have twelve swords, too, but often no sergeant on the other six. He doesn’t have one.”

“I’ve heard good things about you, Sergeant TiTi,” said the Ibizim. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Jake said you Ibizim were pretty good in a fight,” returned TT. “The pleasure’s mine.”

Jake walked up with two mugs of ale and handed one to each of them.

“Glad you too finally met. Grab a cushion, eat, relax. We’ll talk later.”

The captains were scattered around the table in no particular order than TT could see, sitting or reclining on the cushions. The staff made sure food and drink were available, under Ridhi Chabra’s watchful gaze.

She was at the table as well, of course, sitting with one leg under her and the other stretched out at an angle.

He looked around the room: Ridhi, Jake, Nadeen, Beghara, Danny, Khasar, Horsemaster Turan, and Einar Ibrahimson, the big blacksmith from Perdóndaris. Mintran would normally have been there, too, but not this time.

Nadeen, Beghara, and Danny sported red-and-gold scorpion patches, as did the Horsemaster.

Roach hadn’t been invited.

They talked about all sorts of things, and TT quickly picked up the latest gossip about the fort. Things seemed to be settling down, units tightening up, fort defenses improving, patrols covering a greater area than before... Jake’s Company was growing, and growing fast.

Later, the food cleared up and teapots and cups placed strategically here and there, Jake started the real meeting.

“Sergeant TT here is in Captain Danryce’s twelve, but he will be working with me on a number of things: training, first aid, small unit tactics, intelligence, communications... I’ve already started work on a number of areas, but now that he’s here he’ll be taking over.

“I expect you to work with him to make this work... and to tell him, or me, about anything you’re unhappy with. Your twelves are yours, but TT and I are convinced some of these ideas will prove invaluable to you, and to the Company.”

“Danny, anything to report on your patrol?”

“Not really... we went east past the village, then followed the treeline south toward Drinen, until we reached the river. We checked out a few of the trails through the Mohagger Mountains and found no signs they’d be used by more than an occasional hunter. Camped out near the river, and came back through the grasslands west of the village. Pretty quiet.”

“Nadeen, how are the fort defenses doing?”

“All the scorpions are secure, with bolts ready. My twelve is ready to go at a moment’s notice, and Captain Ridhi’s people are trained. Everybody knows their station, and what to do if things go sour.”

“Long?”

“We scouted through the mountains to the north yesterday. That outlook is still empty, although we didn’t climb up to verify. Yargui and Aashika Chabra both said we were being watched by someone, but we saw no signs of any enemy force.

“My guess is a scouting party from the other side, and we’re used to those.”

“Beghara?”

“They are getting used to mounted tactics, and most of them are pretty good with both lance and saber now. We’ve had to pull two horses because they refused to charge a line, but I think the dozen we have now are ready.

“Thanks for Master Einar, they’re well-protected, too. That orichalc-reinforced chain mail armor he came up with is light and strong.”

“Any chance of getting some of that for our troops, too?” asked Nadeen.

“I’m trying to find the best panel size now,” said Einar. “If the panels are too big they impede movement, and if they’re too small all the chain connecting them leaves a lot of openings. Captain Beghara has a few sample now; I’ll be happy to give you a few to try, if you like.”

“Yes, please. If we have to defend the fort we’ll be stuck in place, pretty much, and I’d love anything that helps protect us.”

Einar nodded.

“Bagatur Khasar?”

“We scouted west to the foot of the Mohaggers. A large group of men and wagons has crossed the mountains there into the grasslands, but they entered one of the trade routes and we were unable to determine where they’ve gone.

“We didn’t see any evidence that it was soldiers, but I can’t imagine a caravan taking that route... there are shorter and easier roads from Toldees and Mondath, and no other cities that way for a caravan to call at... my guess is it came over the mountains from Gak or somewhere in the Eastern Desert.”

“Thuba Mleen’s troops, you mean.”

“Yes. That’s my guess, Commander.”

Jake moved a teapot from the table to the floor, and spread the map of the area out, placing empty cups on the edges to hold it flat.

“The Mohagger range and the Lake of Sarnath are natural barriers between us and the desert, but they are far too large for us to patrol effectively. Or at all.

“If we had more airships... but we don’t, and the King has made it clear that there aren’t very many he can spare.”

“What about Aercaptain de Palma?” asked Captain Long. “He and Mistress Valda made this map, right?”

“Yes, he could scout, certainly, but he’s only a single airship, and tasked with mapmaking for some time to come,” said Jake. “Besides, he’s off right now on a special mission with Mintran.

“For now we’ve no choice but to keep our patrols moving around, and build up strength.

“The Matriarch advises me that there’s a good chance Thuba Mleen may move to attack us here, hoping to eliminate us before we become a major threat. He usually doesn’t launch major actions outside the desert, and it’s unclear if he would really send a large army this far, but it’s a real possibility.”

“Horsemaster? How are the horses coming along?”

Turan hurriedly put down her teacup and swallowed.

“The three colts we have now appear to be in perfect health, and are growing fast. They are clearly more intelligent than the average horse—they know how to let themselves out of their stalls, for example—but it’s unclear just how much more.

“And Storm?”

“Storm is... difficult,” she said. “He may be the brightest of the bunch, and maybe that’s why, but the other horses seem skittish around him. Even his mother doesn’t seem to be at wholly at ease, although she still lets him nurse.”

“He seems to like me,” mused Jake.

“Yes, you seem to be special. I don’t know why, but every time he sees you he trots right over,” she agreed. “Maybe he wants to be the Commander’s own horse?”

A little laughter around the table.

“Well, hopefully they’ll turn out as good as you and Chuang hope. They’d be damned useful in the field,” said Jake. “Anything else we need to cover?”

Apparently there wasn’t, and the meeting broke up.

Jake drank more tea, but his stomach still hurt.

* * *

Clashing swords and shouts woke him.

It was still the middle of the night, not a glimmer of dawn on the horizon, and the star glittering above.

Jake leapt to his feet, automatically throwing on a tunic and sandals, and grabbed his gear. Nadeen turned the other way, and finished at about the same time.

They sprinted out of Jake’s quarters together.

The postern was closed, as it should be, and just inside was a circle of Nadeen’s troopers. Jake figured they must be the night’s guard.

Lying on the ground holding her bleeding arm and glaring at Kareem was Beth, the woman they’d captured together with Kareem and who had joined Ridhi’s staff after she recovered from her injuries.

Kareem held her at sword’s point.

As captain in overall charge of fort security and defense, Nadeen walked through the gathering crowd.

“What happened, Kareem?”

“I saw someone sneak out of the kitchen, and around the building. I knew something was off because she couldn’t have had anything to do at this time of night, or she wouldn’t have to sneak.

“I followed, and found her trying to open the gate.

“I shouted and drew my sword, and by the time I’d disarmed her, the guards had come.”

“Step back, and sheath your sword,” commanded Nadeen. “Trooper Beth, explain yourself.”

“He’s lying, Captain! He’s the one who snuck out, and I tried to stop him!”

Nadeen turned to one of her men, standing nearby.

“Dhaval, you were on guard here. What say you?”

Dhaval, a young man with long-and-short twin swords, straightened.

“Captain, I don’t know who was sneaking, but the first shout I heard was his, and the sound of him running. She never shouted.”

“Anyone else see anything?”

“I was with Kareem when he saw her sneaking out of the kitchen, Captain,” said Ndidi, a beautiful young archer in Danny’s twelve who had quite a few admirers in the fort. “I didn’t see her until he started chasing her, but he certainly wasn’t sneaking.”

“Search them both.”

Several troopers stepped forward to strip-search both Beth and Kareem, checking everything carefully. Kareem had nothing but his tunic and sword, but folded into the back of Beth’s belt was a thin sheet of paper with a detailed map of the fort, including distances in paces.

Nadeen handed the drawing to Jake, who glanced at it briefly and shredded it to confetti.

“You gave your bond, Trooper,” said Nadeen. “Your life is forfeit.”

She turned to Jake.

“Shall I?”

Kareem stepped forward.

“Commander, you repaid the debt bond-breaker owed me. This woman was formerly under my command, and gave you her bond. Let me now repay that debt to you.”

Jake looked at Nadeen, who nodded. Danny and Long, now standing nearer Jake, nodded in agreement.

Jake sighed.

“Thank you,” he said, and stood at parade rest as Kareem slowly drew his sword, braced, and chopped her in the neck.

Blood fountained and she collapsed, trying to scream as air escaped from her partially cut throat.

He swung again, and she fell silent.

Kareem turned, sword dripping scarlet, and plunged it into the ground in front of Jake.

He dropped to his knees and looked Jake in the eyes.

“I knew nothing of this, Commander, I swear it. If you cannot trust me, kill me.”

“You were first to raise the alarm, and first to draw in our defense,” said Jake, stepping forward to place his hand on Kareem’s shoulder. “You have my thanks, and trust. Rise.”

As Kareem stood, Jake turned to his captains.

“I can think of only one reason why she would want such a map... Thuba Mleen is coming. Have Aashika Chabra and Serilarinna brought to me at once. And Roach!

“Captain Nadeen, prepare for attack. Assign Captains Long and Danryce as you see fit.

“Get word to Bagatur Khasar and the Ibizim. They are to come inside the fort immediately.

“Horsemaster Turan? Are you here?”

“Here, Commander,” came a woman’s voice from the back.

They parted to let her through.

“Where is the herd now?”

“They were down by the river yesterday, and should still be there. Three of the stable hands are with them.

“If you can, get to them and move them farther away from the mountains, keep them safe. We don’t know how close the enemy is, so be careful!”

“Yes, Commander. At once.”

She left at a run, calling for other stable hands.

Torches were being lit throughout the fort now, and in the flickering light the shapes of scorpion crews getting ready for action could be seen. Sheaves of bolts were being readied, and shields set to protect against incoming arrows.

“And extinguish those damn torches! I want the fort dark, dammit!”

Jake trotted back to his quarters and put on his armor: a chain-mail of orichalc and steel over leather, a sturdy shield that could be used for both defense and offense, a steel helmet. He strapped on his fighting dagger—about thirty centimeters in length—and carried his longsword in his hand as he stepped outside, to find Aashika Chabra, Serilarinna, and Roach waiting.

“You three are the best I’ve got... I need you to find out what we’re up against. Trooper Aashika, you’re in command. I need information, so make damn sure you get back here with it! Go!”

“With me! Out the postern,” cried Aashika, and the three of them raced off.

Almost everyone else was armed and armored, ready and waiting.

“Captain Ridhi! Get water boiled and prepare the church for the wounded.”

He realized they still didn’t have a doctor in the camp, but at least he had a handful of people he’d schooled in emergency first aid. With luck Mintran would be back soon, and even though he had specialized in alchemy—chemistry—rather than medicine, he’d learned enough from ibn Sina to be invaluable. If only he were here... or Nolan!

“Commander!” shouted Danny. “Looks like the Ibizim are under attack!

“Damn damn damn!” Jake ran along the wall toward the cliff, and looked down on the Ibizim encampment. It wasn’t directly below, but several hundred meters distant in the grass.

Dark shadows swirled and crashed, illuminated sporadically by the firelight. Their campfire, banked low for the night, was flaring bright now, and he could see horses bucking in panic.

He tried using his telescope to see what was happening, but the combination of distance and darkness made it impossible.

He caught sight of a glare of orange farther away, and shifted the telescope to the horizon.

“The village is on fire,” he said. “They’ve attacked Cadharna.”

Nothing we can do it about it now, he thought, and turned his attention back to the Ibizim camp.

Suddenly a group of horses cut free of the confusion, and came charging up the road toward the fort, a second group of horses in close pursuit.

“Archers, concentrate on sappers and bombs!” shouted Nadeen. “Open the gate, and prepare for a charge!”

The gate was huge double doors that swung outwards rather than the more defensible portcullis they still needed to install. Jake regretted not having made that more of a priority, but everything was a priority... Since the fort was mostly built on rock they didn’t have to worry about tunnels, but the artificers of the Dreamlands knew how to make bombs and grenades. They weren’t in widespread use, but who knew what Thuba Mleen might do.

They slid the bar back halfway and pushed the door open wide enough to let the horses through.

It was the Ibizim, of course, in the lead... eight of them galloped in, most of them already swinging off their mounts to help calm them down. Two sand lizards rushed in with them.

Two of the Ibizim were still in the saddle, one leaning forward in obvious pain, the other lying face-up over the horse’s back, held in place only by his feet in the stirrups and good luck.

“Shut it!” shouted the Bagatur. “Quickly!”

They pulled the door back closed, but two fighters managed to leap through the gap even as it was swinging shut.

One landed on his feet, immediately crossing swords with one of Nadeen’s defenders, and the other on his shoulders, rolling to pop up suddenly—and be skewered by a pike.

The other attacker fell quickly, stabbed from two sides without landing a blow.

The two wounded were helped down off their horses; one was already dead, the other probably soon would be, with a deep cut down through his shoulder.

Ridhi’s people carried them both off as the horses, trembling, eyes wide with excitement, were led away to the stables.

“They almost took us by surprise,” spit Bagatur Khasar. “The guard—Tümen of the Copper Beetle here—saw them coming, and raised the alarm.

“That’s his sand lizard there,” he added, pointing.

“And the others of your twelve?”

“I saw Togtuun fall, and his sand lizard tear out the entrails of the scum who killed him. Oyunchimeg and Duuren are dead. The others, I don’t know, but certainly dead now.

“Only us six left...”

“Captain Nadeen!” called Jake. “Where do you want them?”

“Bagatur, take the wall between the gates!” she shouted back, then turned to Jake. “Danny’s on the postern, Beghara’s on the cliff wall, and I’ve got the main gate. Captain Long is assembled near the church as reserves, or ready to sally.”

The first fire arrows came arching over the wall, striking the church and elsewhere but finding little to burn. The new roof they’d installed was slate, not thatch, and most of the walls were stone.

One arrow, shot from the side of the fort, stuck into the wood wall of the new barracks, dripping flaming oil down the wood. One of Ridhi’s men came running with a bucket of water and extinguished it, but Jake could hear the bowstrings thrumming outside the walls—there’d be more.

And more casualties.

Already one man was down with an arrow in his arm... Dammit, why hadn’t he had his shield up?

There was a bone-rattling crash at the main gate: they were using a ram.

The doors were massive, and the bar through them as thick as a good-sized tree, but eventually it would give, he knew.

Archers were already firing at the ram from the walkway—damn, he wished they had flanking towers on the gates!—but the troops carrying it were protected by a wet leather tent that stopped most of the arrows, and robbed the rest of their force.

Several bladders flew from the wall to land on the tent, breaking open with the impact and splattering oil. Fire arrows followed, and here and there small flames popped up in spite of the wet leather.

At roughly the same time large rocks plummeted down, tearing through the leather to injure the attackers beneath, or tear it free of its supports and expose the attackers to arrow fire.

The archers took advantage of the opportunity, loosing shaft after shaft into the exposed troops.

The attack faltered, and the front end of the ram slipped, dropped, rolled to one side. The fighters supporting the rear end, unable to bear the load, had no choice but to drop it and try to avoid being crushed.

Those who could, fled, leaving their dead and wounded in the carnage in front of the gate. The wounded weren’t worth the arrows, and were left to scream their agony.

Jake turned to look over the interior of the fort... there was smoke coming from half a dozen spots in the fort, but he couldn’t see any fires. Ridhi seemed to have things under control.

There was something happening up on the cliff wall, but he couldn’t see the details even though the night was, very gradually, beginning to give way to dawn.

Just as he was about to send a runner to find out, Nadeen appeared.

“They tried scaling the cliff in a few places,” she reported. “I don’t think they’ll try again. The horses are spooked, though.”

“Make sure to double-check the stables and storehouse—someone may have slipped in somehow.”

“Beghara’s got her people checking now.”

Jake grunted.

“Next is ladders on the walls, I think... you agree?”

“Yup. And we’ve got a lot of wall to defend, even with Bagatur Khasar up there.”

“I’ll be up over the main gate for now. Don’t hesitate to use Long’s reserve!”

Nadeen nodded and was gone.

The next attack was only a few minutes later.

“Here they come!”

“Ram on the postern!”

“Ram on the main gate!”

“Archers, stop those ladders!

Multiple attacks along the front and side wall, with rams to both gates and a dozen ladders being lifted into position in spite of a rain of arrows from above.

“Captain Long!

It was Nadeen, shouting down from the wall.

“Reinforce the main gate!”

Long’s twelve, standing ready near the tower, raced into position.

The postern was not built as sturdily as the main gate, but it was considerably smaller. It might be easier to shatter the door with a ram, but the attackers could probably only enter one at a time.

Danny’s twelve should be able to defend it as long as they didn’t have to worry about being attacked from behind. Or above, from the walkway atop the wall.

Nadeen’s twelve, reinforced by the remaining Ibizim, were using their poles to topple the ladders, but one, then two ladders connected, and the fighters at the top leaped to the wall, hacking at the defenders to open up a bridgehead.

The defenders, split into two groups centered over each gate, fought furiously, swords clanging amid shouts, and screams of pain.

Jake fought side by side with Nadeen and one of her men, the three of them struggling to hold off the attackers. The top of the wall was fairly narrow, which helped, but more attackers were climbing the ladder... Spears thrust forward from behind them, dropping one of the enemy, but another stepped forward to take his place.

New ladders suddenly appeared to the left of the main gate, left almost undefended, and more of the enemy fighters began pouring onto the walkway, threatening to cut off the defenders above the main gate...

“Captain Beghara!” shouted Jake, waving at her.

Beghara, with most of her troopers, charged back along the wall from the cliff, cutting through them like a knife with surprise and ferocity, throwing them and the ladder back down to shatter on the rocks.

They surged forward to join Nadeen’s force, and through them into the enemy fighters atop the wall, driving them back with a furious sword-and-board attack, pushing them back, back, until they were trapped between them and Danny’s men, and died, surrounded.

Jake, breathing heavily, glanced down at the ram... it was burning on the ground next to the first log, surrounded by pin-cushioned corpses. The scorpions, firing dozens of bolts at once with enormous force, had penetrated the leather, turning the tent into a deathtrap.

A glance toward the postern... that ram had broken through, but the doorway was almost blocked by half a dozen enemy corpses, and already TT was leading his men through it, driving the attack home into Thuba Mleen’s fighters. He’d discarded his sword and was armed with two long daggers instead, cutting and thrusting with skill and speed that more than countered the longer weapons of his opponents.

Arrows continued to strike home from above, carefully aimed shafts whittling down the enemy.

There!

A man wearing a black kaffiyeh, finally visible in the feeble light of dawn only because he was waving a torch back and forth. Some sort of leader, Jake guessed... shouting at his troops to attack again.

And behind him... more attackers poured out of the forest... three, maybe four twelves. Fresh troops, with more ladders.

Jake’s sword felt heavier than ever.

There were no rams this time, access to the gates blocked by the prior failed attempts, but there were so many ladders...

A hail of arrows began to fall on the wall, and the tired defenders hurriedly raised their shields.

Most of Ridhi’s staff had joined them now, swords or axes in hand, knowing they had to win this battle or die.

Jake checked that his pistol was still safe in its pouch... they’d get a surprise when the time came, but one pistol wouldn’t change the math any.

The enemy charged, ladders banging into the wall in too many places to count in spite of the poles of the defenders pushing them off. Warriors swarmed up, some reaching the walkway in spite of the flying bolts and waiting weapons, leaping to the attack.

Jake thrust, and swung, keeping his part of the wall, at least, clear, and stepped forward to approach the nearest ladder.

“Commander!”

He spared a second to see who was talking.

It was Roach!

“Commander, they’re coming,...” he panted. “The raptors...”

Raptors? What raptors? Did Thuba Mleen have raptors...?

Trying to make sense of it even as he swung his sword once again, suddenly a mounted troop galloped up the road from the grasslands, driving into the attackers from the rear and shattering them. Ladders fell, men screamed and tried to turn to face this new enemy... only to be torn to pieces by raptors, leaping to the attack.

Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the slaughter... most fighters knew how to fight raptors, of course, but these raptors... they feinted, clawed legs to topple enemies and then leapt on them, threw rocks or bodies, fought together with horses and their riders...

They were intelligent! And the deadliest fighting machines he’d ever seen in action.

Thuba Mleen’s troops broke, pulling back toward the forest again, contracting into a tight defensive line of swords and spears that the raptors hesitated to attack.

“Commander!” came a shout from below. “Commander Jake!”

He roused himself and walked to the edge, looked below.

“Chinh of Celephaïs,” said the man, dismounting. “Formerly of Zaïs, and tasked by the King with bringing you these raptors. Looks like I got here just in the nick of time, too!”

“You certainly did that, Captain. Enter while you can; they’ll be back.”

They’d survived.

And as the enemy—the ones still alive, at least—vanished from the clearing, two figures leapt from the forest and raced for the postern.

Aashika Chabra and Serilarinna!

They quickly slipped through the postern, and reported to Jake, who was resting on the walkway over the main gate.

The walkway was covered with dead and wounded, as was the ground outside the walls for most of its length along the front of the fort. The rear was the cliff, too high for ladders and too sheer to scale.

“Commander, we have a good idea of the enemy force now,” said Aashika. “I see Roach beat us back.

“They have no siege equipment at all, probably because they thought surprise was more important than building and moving it. If the postern gate had been opened they probably would have succeeded.”

“We have Trooper Kareem to thank for that,” said Jake. “And?”

“They do not have that many fighters here,” she continued. “It looks like a grand dozen, and I see many of them have already been wounded or killed here. At least one twelve is down in Cadharna... we heard fighting there, and the village is aflame, but we didn’t scout that far.”

“They are led by Commander Harithah, that man in the black kaffiyeh who was rallying the attackers. He’s one of Thuba Mleen’s trusted lieutenants, and has quite a reputation for slaughter.”

“Thank you. Brief Captain Nadeen immediately, then the other captains.”

They split up, heading off to talk to Nadeen and the other captains individually.

Jake turned to Roach.

“How’d you get back into the fort, with all that fighting?”

“Climbed the cliff wall. It wasn’t very difficult, and it was easy to slip past the guards.”

Jake shook his head and used the ladder to drop down to the ground, where Captain Chinh—a short, thin Asian guy—waited.

He might be little, thought Jake, but his armor and horse were red with splatters of blood, and it looked like none of it was his.

The sun was above the horizon, stunningly beautiful red clouds above the surrounding Mohagger range. On any other day he’d appreciate it, but the color was not a good choice today.

“Captain, thank you. We owe you our lives.”

“They had no flankers out, nothing on their rear at all... the same for that twelve down in the village.”

“You took care of them, too?”

“They got in our way,” smiled Chinh. “And it looked like the villagers could use the help. I don’t think any of them will be bothering you again.”

“Get your wounded looked after,” said Jake, pointing to the church building. “Plenty of food and water, and you can water your horses all the way in the back, in the stables.”

Chinh nodded and began getting his twelve sorted out.

The four raptors—three unharmed, one with a slash across its flank that might be pretty deep—were excited by the fighting and the blood, and Jake wasn’t very happy about having them wander around the fort. Now that he had a chance to catch his breath, he noticed that all four wore leather harnesses, with hacked chain mail.

“Captain Chinh, what about the raptors? Are they safe?”

“Quite safe, I think,...” he said, and waved his hands around.

One of the larger raptors, the one wearing a pouch, threw its head up and waggled its hands back and forth, then stared at Jake and cocked its neck.

Jake could swear it was laughing.

“Cornelia says you’re safe and not to worry... she already had lunch,” translated Chinh. “She’s the leader of this group. The biggest one and that one over there, with the slash on his side, are males, and that one is another female. I think she’s from Cornelia’s brood but it’s hard to know for sure... The males belong to Cornelia; she’s the boss.”

“Can she understand me?”

“Yeah, she understands a lot. Use short, complete sentences and make sure your meaning is simple and unmistakable. It usually works.”

“Uh... yeah, thanks, uh, Cornelia,” he said, returning her gaze. “If you need anything just ask.”

She bobbed her head.

He scooped a handful of water from the nearby bucket.

He was thirsty, and his stomach hurt like a son of a bitch.

He wished he had some tea.

Hell, he wished Thuba Mleen would go away and stop killing everyone!

Danny was near the postern, clearing away rubble and trying to get the gate back into some sort of defensible shape. It would take lumber and carpenters to rebuild it, and they simply didn’t have the time to do it right now.

Jake sat down and rubbed his stomach, watching the activity as the fort tried to put itself back together. The seriously wounded had been moved to the church and were being treated, and those who could still fight were working as hard as the able, fixing up the defenses, carting more bolts and stones to the wall walkway, and collecting spent arrows.

The barrels of water placed strategically throughout the fort were all replenished, ready to fight fires.

A new attack could come at any time, and there was no time to waste.

Ridhi’s staff—those not preparing for combat or treating the wounded—started distributing smoked meat, bread, water, and of course beans, to the defenders.

If they just had a little more time, they had a chance... Only a grand dozen... one hundred and forty-four... and they’d already whittled that down by at least two dozen dead and another three or four dozen injured. His own forces had suffered casualties, too, but Captain Chinh’s troops and the raptors would make a big difference.

If they could just hold the wall, they had a fighting chance.

He saw something big and black out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see an enormous barrel explode in the air above the training ground. The shockwave was huge, and the sound deafening.

But where...?

He heard Beorhtwig’s shout: “Wyverns!”

Beorhtwig was standing, mouth agape, staring up into the sky.

A wyvern... no, two... three wyverns! And an airship!

The fucking wyverns were dropping bombs, and they were too high to hit with a scorpion even if they could get it aimed that high.

Another bomb came hurtling down toward the wall, and this one was better aimed, and better timed. It landed just inside the postern gate, blowing a hole in the wall there.

Shit!

Danny!

Danny was working there!

“Danny! Danny!”

He shot to his feet, running toward the postern.

“Danny! Where are you!”

He had no trouble finding Danny in spite of the billowing dirt and smoke. He was lying on the open ground, face up.

One leg was missing at the knee.

Jake thudded to his knees next to him, ripping out a leather cord to use as a torniquet.

“Danny! Stay with me, man!”

He feverishly tied the cord on, cinched it tight to halt the blood, then felt for Danny’s pulse.

There was no pulse.

His eyes were open, unblinking.

After a second, Jake reached forward and carefully pushed his eyelids shut.

He looked around.

TT was lying nearby, scrabbling to pick himself up out of the rubble.

Another explosion, somewhere behind him, closer to the main gate.

He realized, in a quiet, detached fashion, that with the gates gone, they were all going to die.

He took a deep breath, and stood, turning to face the ruined postern gate, sword to hand.

His pistol was in his pouch, ready to draw and fire.

He heard shouting from outside the walls... the enemy was coming.

Then he heard a different scream, a bellow, a trumpet of pain and anguish. From above...?

He looked up...

A wyvern was falling out of the sky, one wing flaming. It flapped wildly, spinning in a circle, throwing its wyver-master off to plunge, arms and legs flailing, into the field just in front of the wall together with their mount. The wyvern bucked and writhed, gave a despairing scream of agony, fell silent.

A second airship!

As he watched it scooted up next to the first one, the one commanding the wyverns, and an arc of liquid fire burned through the air, splashing the enemy airship’s deck and bursting into instant conflagration.

“Mintran! You did it, you son of a bitch! You did it!”

Jake felt tears on his cheeks.

The airship pursued another wyvern, pursuing it with a spray of thalassion fire as it as it zigged and zagged, finally reaching out to gently touch the barrel still clutched in its claws... and as the bomb exploded, the wyvern and its rider died, shredded into fragments.

The last wyvern was already gone, fleeing back over the Mohaggers to safety.

The airship dropped in lower, sweeping over the fort walls, spraying liquid fire onto Thuba Mleen’s advancing troops.

In their dozens, they burst into flame, rolling in the dirt and beating themselves in a vain effort to extinguish the flaming oil that coated them.

A few were successful; most died trying.

And the survivors fled back into the safety of the forest.

The battle was over.

* * *

The dust gradually settled, revealing bodies scattered throughout the fort, killed by bomb blasts and flying fragments.

The new barracks they’d constructed was gone, lost to fire.

And Danny! Danny was gone!

He looked around, wondering why everyone was whispering.

Must be the bomb blast; his hearing was screwed up.

Nadeen...?

There she was. Had a little blood trickling down her face from a scalp wound.

She walked over to hug Jake, then dropped to her knees beside Danny’s body.

Captain Long walked up, hobbling with one bad leg.

Aercaptain de Palma brought the airship up against the bell tower, and jumped across with Mintran, disappearing down the stairs into the church on their way to him.

Jake sat down.

As the tension drained out of him exhaustion took its place.

The other captains came, too: Captain Beghara, eyes ablaze and not a scratch on her; Captain Chinh, covered with dirt and blood but otherwise ready; Bagatur Khasar, carrying a teapot and cups as if to a picnic; the raptor, Cornelia—who could tell anything about a raptor?—and now Alchemist Mintran and Captain de Palma approached.

“Alchemist Mintran, you have saved us all,” said Jake. “You were successful, then. You and Aercaptain de Palma.”

“And Trooper Yargui,” said Mintran. “She made sure we got all the naphtha we needed, and helped us make the pump to shoot it. We never had time to test it, though...”

“Thank you, Alchemist, Aercaptain. I am in your debt. We are all in your debt.”

“All thanks to the Ibizim, Commander. Without that naphtha...”

They heard the sound of galloping hooves.

The horses were out, escaped from the stables after a bomb blast and running free inside the fort walls.

One horse, a black colt, came running toward Jake.

“That’s Storm!” said Nadeen. “He recognizes you!”

Storm headed straight for Jake, lowering its head to lick his face, whickering.

The raptor gave a screech of fury and leapt for the colt’s neck, clamping on with fang-studded jaws, leg talons clawing furiously.

Totally taken by surprise, everyone jumped back, some falling over backwards in their haste to escape the sudden tangle of screaming raptor and horse.

“Cornelia! No! Stop!” yelled Chinh, and made as if to step forward to pull the raptor away.

Nadeen grabbed his arm.

“That’s not blood,” she said, staring at the colt.

Something was spurting from its neck, but it was black, not red.

As they watched it began to lose form, collapsing into a shapeless blob with black pseudopods that stretched out, toward Jake.

Jake leapt backwards, well out of reach, while Long stepped in front, sword and shield in hand, to block the thing’s advance.

Mintran reached into his pouch and pulled out a pottery flask, uncorked it, and threw it onto the blackness.

Cornelia, smelling the naphtha and realizing what was coming, jumped back.

And Mintran struck a spark.

The thing exploded into flame, pseudopods writhing and twitching vainly in search of escape, wrinkling, shrinking, turning to ash in front of their eyes.

It died as silently as it had lived.

“A Flayed One...” breathed Captain Long. “In the shape of a horse...”

“And it was after you, Jake,” said Nadeen, turning to face him. “Jake?”

Jake lay splayed on the ground, a froth of blood at his mouth.

END

Chapter 1

“Jake!”

Nadeen dropped to her knees next to him and clasped his head in her hands, staring into his face.

His eyes were closed, a grimace of pain frozen on his face as blood dripped down his chin.

“Mintran!”

Mintran ran over and squatted down next to her, one hand prying open Jake’s eye for a quick look, the other hand resting on his chest.

Jake was breathing.

“What is it? Nyogtha!?”

“I don’t know... Quickly, help me get him inside!”

“Bring that stretcher over here!” shouted Captain Long, gesturing to two troopers carrying an empty stretcher toward the shattered postern. “Hurry!”

They came running.

“It’s the Commander!”

“What happened?”

“We don’t know... we have to get him to the church!”

As he spoke, Captain Long grabbed the stretcher from their hands and spread it out next to Jake, then looked to Nadeen.

“One... two... and three!”

Together they lifted Jake’s unconscious body onto the stretcher, and grabbed the handles themselves, trotting toward the church with Mintran in close pursuit.

“Captain Beghara, take command!” shouted Nadeen over her shoulder, and Beghara immediately pointed at the stretcher-bearers, standing there with empty hands.

“You. I want you to watch this monstrosity burn. If you see anything move, shout. Loud. Do not get near it.

“And you, go to the kitchen and get oil that burns. A lot of it. Bring it here and turn this thing into fucking ashes! RUN!”

She turned to Aercaptain de Palma, who was still staring at the burning Flayed One.

“Aercaptain, fly down to the river pastures, and get the Horsemaster. I need her back here as soon as possible.”

“Yessir,” he cried, and sprinted for the tower, shouting to his crew as he ran. “We’re up again! Back onboard!”

The airship took off almost immediately, turning and heading toward the river.

She sent Bagatur Khasar and Captain Chinh to assess the damage and get started on putting up some sort of temporary defensive structure.

Beghara looked around, spotted a woman carrying arrows she’d collected from inside the fort.

“You! Ndidi, right?”

“Yes, Captain,” she replied, turning to look at Beghara. She didn’t look as beautiful as usual this time, with blood and dirt smeared over half her face and torso.

“Find all the stable hands, and get every horse either in a stall or roped somewhere, right now. Forget the damn arrows!

“If you need help, commandeer anyone you like. Now, trooper!”

Ndidi dropped the bundle of arrows and ran off toward the stables, shouting for a stable hand.

Beghara turned her attention to the gates. She didn’t expect another attack after that massacre, but they had to be repaired as soon as possible.

Suddenly, Captain Chinh called her over.

“Captain Beghara! We’ve got a little problem here!”

She walked over, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She was exhausted... it had been a long night, and was already turning into a long, hot day.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Take a look outside the postern,” he invited. “Carefully.”

She clambered over the stones half-blocking the postern. The ground outside, once fields of grain and vegetables for the fort, was now a blackened plain, flames lapping twisted, blackened bodies that no longer looked human. Smoke and the stench of oil and roasting meat filled the air. She stepped outside.

“Gods!”

She froze for a second, hand automatically grasping her axe.

“The wyvern!”

Only a few meters away, almost flush with the wall, the injured wyvern lay still, golden eyes open and watching her. Next to its scaly head lay a body, and judging from the red-and-gold scorpion patch on the harness, it was one of the fort’s men.

At first glance she’d thought it was eating the man, but as she looked more closely she saw the wyvern was licking his wounds, lapping the blood.

The man was breathing but looked unconscious.

She thought it was one of Captain Long’s men but didn’t recall his name.

She turned toward the main gate where Ginette, one of Nadeen’s twelve, was working.

“Ginette! Trooper Ginette!”

A head popped over the rampart, looked down.

“Captain?”

“You’re from Daikos, right? Know anything about wyverns?”

She stuck her head out farther and saw the wyvern.

“Yes, Captain!”

The head vanished, and she heard her running along the rampart toward the ladder. Ginette joined her a moment later.

“I was never trained as a wyver-master, but my father was,” she said.

It was an adult, it looked like... the same one that had fallen from the sky during the battle, she realized. It was mostly a grayish-green, with huge bat wings were folded... no, one wing was folded.

The other was stretched out, broken and burnt.

“What’s it doing to that man?”

“That’s Beorhtwig, another Daikos man,” said Ginette. “Don’t know how he got there, but the wyvern’s trying to heal him!”

“Heal him? Can wyverns heal the wounded?”

“No, no. The wyvern licks its own wounds, and will lick the wounds of its... master... Damn! He’s taken Beorhtwig as his master!”

“Master or not, if we don’t do something about that wound he’s gonna die,” said Chinh. “But with that wyvern guarding him...”

“I know the words, but injured and with his master injured... I don’t know if he’ll listen. Bulls are usually less defensive than besses, but...”

“Go tell Mintran, Ginette. I know he’s busy but ask him to come if he can,” ordered Beghara. She turned to Chinh.

“What do you think, Captain? I’d like to kill this fucking beast for what it did to us, myself... but a tame wyvern...”

“Well, the wyvern’s not to blame, and I agree: if we can save the wyvern and the wyver-master both, it would be as good as a second airship!”

Mintran walked up, looking exhausted, his robes covered in blood.

“Alchemist Mintran! You came! How is the Commander?”

“He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, but I still don’t know what’s wrong with him.

“Too many wounded, too many who will never fight again... and now you want me to worry about a wyvern!?”

“I know, Alchemist, I know,” said Beghara. “The wyvern, yes, but first the man. Beorhtwig is one of Captain Long’s men, and seems to have become a wyver-master.

“If we keep the wyvern quiet, can you save him?”

“I have to see him first!” retorted Mintran. He walked forward, ignoring the wyvern entirely, and knelt next to the wounded man. “Looks like the blast threw him against the wall, or hit him with stones from the gate. Head, arm, chest... lots of blood, maybe internal damage, I can’t tell... but he’s breathing all right, and pulse is good... Help me get him to the church where I can see better.”

He slipped one arm under Beorhtwig’s shoulders and tried to lift his torso up a little bit for a better look at the side.

A giant claw swiped forward, the curved backside hitting him in the leg and knocking him down and away from the fallen man.

“Wha...?”

Ginette stepped forward, soothing the wyvern with whispered words and slow strokes on the animal’s muzzle.

Its tongue, long and forked, darted out to test the air, touching Ginette on the arm briefly, and the wyvern gave a huge, moist whuff. The enormous golden eye looked at Mintran once more, and then the claw withdrew, and the beast’s head sank back to the ground.

Mintran could treat his wounded master, but not take him away.

Mintran did what he could, cleansing the wounds and binding them up. He put a splint on the arm just in case there was a fracture in there he couldn’t see. He might have a broken rib or two, he thought, but except for bandaging up his chest there wasn’t too much he could do... didn’t seem to be breathing any blood, though, which was a good sign.

The wyvern watched every move, motionless.

“It doesn’t look injured, except for the wing, of course.”

“No wing means it can’t fly,” said Beghara.

“Not now,” agreed Ginette, “but wyverns can usually regenerate. Wings, legs, tails. With luck he may fly again.”

“I’ve heard that but never believed it...”

“Oh, it’s true, all right,” said Mintran. “But only wyverns, I’m afraid, not people.

“And now if you’ll excuse me, there are wounded waiting, and Captain Ridhi can’t handle them all!”

He trotted back to the church.

“Ginette, put an awning up over Beorhtwig. I want you to check on him—and on this damn wyvern— at least twice a day and make sure they’re OK. Tell me immediately if Beorhtwig wakes, or the wyvern does anything.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Ginette, and clambered back through the postern in search of some fabric.

“So let’s look at the postern, shall we, Captain?”

“It’s pretty well destroyed, Captain Beghara, I’m afraid,” said Chinh. “The gate is totally destroyed, and one of the columns as well. Once we get the debris cleared we can see how the stonework looks; might need to replace a few blocks.”

“Have to get some woodworkers up here from Cadhar.... damn! Cadharna was torched, wasn’t it?

“How bad was the damage when you rode through, Captain?”

“A handful of buildings were burning, mostly smaller ones but I recall I saw one grain storehouse going up. The villagers were putting up a pretty good resistance, but the attackers were more interested in burning and pillaging than in fighting.

“They weren’t expecting us to suddenly appear on their flank. And they paid for it.”

“A few buildings wouldn’t be that bad, but how many people did they kill...? Could you send one of your troopers down there and see? We may have to lend them some people to get things in order. We want to stay in their good graces; in addition to doing a lot of jobs for us, they also have the only tavern!”

“Right away, Captain.”

Chinh nodded and walked off to talk to one of his troopers, a black woman from Parg, maybe, or farther south in Zar or Xura.

Beghara walked over the main gate. It was in even worse shape, with part of the wall gone next to it. They’d have to rebuild the whole thing, she realized.

And if they had to rebuild the whole thing, damned if she wouldn’t build flanking towers, too! And on the postern! Hell, half a dozen towers to length of the wall! They didn’t really need them along the clifftop, since the height of the cliff made it close to impossible for anyone to climb up, but she made a mental note to double-check that later.

They’d need to bring an artificer familiar with castle construction out here, she realized, from Rinar or Ilarnek. Maybe Juan Hernández, Chóng’s new factor in Rinar, could find someone.

A shadow cut across the ground, and she glanced up.

The airship was back already.

The Horsemaster jumped off the airship before it was even fully moored, and vanished into the tower. Beghara knew that Nadeen would be there to fill her in—and the Commander! She wanted to go see what had happened, but had too much to do here, now. It had to wait.

Chapter 2

Beorhtwig opened his eyes and wondered where he was.

He was lying on his back, a sheet of tent fabric stretched above.

How did he get here...?

The battle! Thuba Mleen!

The wyvern!

And after the wyvern, another bomb exploded, and something hit him, and he blacked out for a moment.

And then he saw the wyvern falling, falling out of the sky...

And he wanted to see it, to touch a wyvern, one last time before he died.

He crawled here, he remembered that much.

And he found the wyvern, and crawled to it, and lay down next to it, and...

And now he was lying on his back in a tent.

He struggled up on one elbow, grimacing as pain stabbed through his chest.

Suddenly there was a huge whuff of breath, and a crashing as something moved, and an enormous eye dropped into view not more than an arm’s length away.

A wyvern’s eye!

It watched him for a moment, blinked, then slowly the lid sagged, and the wyvern’s head dropped to the ground, watching him contentedly.

Like a wyvern would watch its master, he thought in confusion. But I’m not a wyver-master!

He gingerly reached out a hand, slowly, watching the wyvern’s reaction.

He’d already lost one finger to a wyvern, and didn’t want to lose another... unless...

He stroked its cheek.

It rumbled in pleasure, acceptance.

It’s tongue, long and forked, darted out to rasp over his hand in greeting.

He sat up, forgetting the pain in his chest, pushing the awning to the side.

He was lying next to a wyvern, an adult bull it looked like....

He stroked it again, and was almost knocked down when the bull butted its head against him, gently.

“I see you’re awake finally,” came a voice from behind him.

It was Ginette, another trooper from Daikos.

“Ginette! What... what am I doing here?”

Ginette laughed.

“You’re lying on the ground next to a wyvern, of course.”

“What happened?”

“We don’t really know... after the battle someone thought to come and see if the wyvern was dead or not, and they found you lying next to it. The wyvern was licking the blood from your wound, and when we tried to get you to the church to try to heal you, the wyvern got angry.”

Beorhtwig felt his chest. It was wrapped in bandages and hurt like the devil when he moved.

“I’ve been here with you since.”

“How long? Since the battle?”

“Three days.”

Beorhtwig looked up at the wyvern again.

Like most wyverns, it was a grayish-green on top, with a light gray underside, blotches of camouflage covering its skin to break up its appearance. One bat wing was folded, the other... the other was burned, broken, stretched out and bent unnaturally.

“Yeah, one wing is gone, I’m afraid,” said Ginette.

“But they can regenerate!”

“Yeah, sometimes. I know some of them have regrown wings in the past. But it’ll be painful to cut off the broken wing, and if the wyvern gets angry... well, it wouldn’t be good to be anywhere near.”

He stroked the wyvern again and received another wet, foul-smelling whuff for his trouble, then contented rumbles from deep inside.

He struggled to his feet, wobbly, and began to gingerly walk along the wyvern, running his hand down its neck, its flank, legs, stroking the outstretched wing, the long tail.

He walked around behind, starting up the other side, and stopped at the burned, twisted wing lying on the ground.

He slowly stretched out his hand, touched it.

The wyvern’s rumbled stopped, then started up again.

He ran his hand over the blackened wing, and the wyvern turned to watch him, huge golden eyes staring quietly.

It must have hurt, but other than that initial pause the wyvern kept rumbling, quietly.

He walked around the wing, stroking the neck, and back to the head, scratching along the jaw and reaching up to scratch between its eyes.

“I can do it,” he said. “It trusts me.”

“You sure about that?” asked Ginette. “It’s not a youngling, and I’d guess it’s already paired by now. Probably quite some years ago, judging by the hunting scars along its legs and belly.”

“I’m sure,” said Beorhtwig. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long...”

He straightened up.

“Flogdreka will need food,” said Beorhtwig.

“Flogdreka? You can’t think of a more original name than that?” laughed Ginette.

“I’ve known his name since I could speak, and now I’ve finally found him... Are there any horse carcasses left from the battle?”

“None, I’m afraid... they were put on the pyre with the dead.”

“Then I must go hunting for deer. Captain Danryce must let me go.”

Ginette slowly shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Trooper Beorhtwig. The Captain’s dead, killed in the same bomb blast that wounded you.”

“...Dead...?”

Ginette nodded.

“We’re rebuilding the fort now, and an awful lot of people were killed or injured. It’ll be a while before anything’s back to normal again.”

“So who do I ask?”

“Captain Serilarinna; it’s her twelve now.”

“So Seri finally made Captain. Good for her! She deserves it, but I wish it hadn’t cost us Captain Danryce.”

Ginette nodded.

“Do you feel well enough to hunt?”

He slowly moved his arms, seeing how much everything hurt.

He gasped, and sat down suddenly.

“No. Not yet,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “But Flogdreka needs food!”

“They usually only eat once a week, or less...”

“Normally, but he’s injured, and hopefully will regrow a wing... he needs meat, and lots of it.”

“Let me go get the Captain. You can try convincing her yourself.

“You were smashed up against the wall,” she continued. “You should’ve died right then and there, but somehow you dragged yourself all the way out here, and this wyvern kept you alive.

“And I guess you kept him alive, too. He won’t leave your side now.”

Ginette left, leaving Beorhtwig to stroke his wyvern.

She was back in a few minutes with Captain Serilarinna, who was filthy from head to toe with dirt and ash.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Beorhtwig! We wondered when you’d join us,” she said as she crouched down next to him. “I see you’ve met your new friend here.”

“Sergean... Captain. I just woke up.”

“How’s the ribs?”

“Hurts like a shantak, Captain. Hurts to breathe, hurts to move.”

“Just stay as you are. You’re one of the lucky ones; we lost a lot of good people in that fight.”

“That bad, Captain?”

“Yeah, that bad. Or worse. I never wanted to be Captain over Danny’s dead body...” She paused. “Sorry, I’m not used to being a captain yet.”

They fell silent for a moment.

“So what about this wyvern, then?”

“He needs food... a horse, a cow, even a deer or two.”

“Wyverns only eat every so often, though...”

“Yeah, when they’re healthy. Flogdreka needs a lot right now to regrow that wing.”

“Flogdreka?”

“That’s his name,” explained Beorhtwig. “They can usually regrow injuries like legs, tails, and wings, but they need lots of food to do it.

“...and someone will have to cut off the old one before it’ll work.”

“No way I’m gonna start chopping on a live wyvern!”

“I think Ginette and I can do it. I’ll keep Flogdreka calm long enough for him to chop it free. We’d need a big, heavy axe and a couple of solid hits... those bones are pretty big.”

“If it’s an axe you want, you should ask Captain Beghara,” said Seri. “And she could probably do it in fewer swings, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me, too,” said Ginette. “I saw her swing that axe of hers during the fight. If she’s got the time, she’d be perfect. I’ll help you keep the bull quiet.”

“I can ask the Captain to drop by with her axe,” said Seri, “but you still need someone to go get you some deer or something, right? There’s a hunting party going out tomorrow morning, if you can wait.”

“He really needs to load up on food before we cut that broken wing free,” said Beorhtwig. “Maybe Captain Beghara can help us tomorrow evening, after we get him fed?”

“Assuming they bring back enough deer,” said Seri.

“Anything’ll do, as long as there’s lots of it: sheep, goats, even chickens or fish. Two deer, or a horse or a cow, would be best, but I’ll take what I can get!”

Serilarinna sighed, stood up tiredly.

“OK, let me see what I can do. No promises!”

“Thank you, Captain. You might mention how useful a wyvern would be in the future, if we can save his wing...”

Seri smiled.

“Yes, that had occurred to us, but I don’t think she needs reminding. You know, we’re all a bit busy right now...”

“Sorry, Captain, I just...”

“Yeah, it’s OK, Beorhtwig. Just get better so you can help us put the fort back together again, will ’ya?”

“As soon as I can, Captain, as soon as I can.”

As soon as Serilarinna left, Beorhtwig turned to Ginette.

“Ginette, buddy, can you please, please, get me a bucket of water or two and a new tunic, and help me get cleaned up? Somebody cleaned me up a little while I was out, but...”

“Yeah, that was me. You stink,” agreed Ginette. “Be happy to.”

Chapter 3

“Still hurts like a son of a bitch,” Jake groaned. “You sure somebody didn’t stick me with a knife?”

“Not a scratch,” said Mintran. “It’s something on the inside.”

“Something the Flayed One did to me?”

“I just don’t know, Commander. I doubt it, but I don’t know.”

“Physician Nolan should get here today, Jake,” said Nadeen, “and he may know.”

“I mean, I feel fine except for the knife in my guts,” said Jake. “No fever, no chills, no headache, you say my breathing and pulse are normal... so what is it?”

“If the tea makes it feel a little better, than have some more tea, Commander.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He held out his cup for a refill.

Jake was sitting on a chair in his own quarters. He’d gotten used to the pain, a little, and could walk normally, but every so often a spasm would shudder through his stomach. He’d spit up blood a couple times, too.

“Airship approaching!” came the shout from the bell tower, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as troopers manned the scorpions.

Nadeen stepped outside and shielded her eyes to better see the airship.

“It’s flying the King’s colors,” she said. “A lot smaller than what I expected, though...”

The airship slowed near the cliff wall, revealing itself to the defenders to demonstrate good faith, and was waved closer.

It pulled up abreast of the wall and the crew threw over the hawser, which was quickly looped over a bollard. The gangplank dropped and Chuang came hurrying onto the wall walkway.

“He is in the church?”

“Yes, Master Chuang,” replied Sergeant Petter, waving toward the stairs in the corner. “I’ll take you.”

“No need, I know the way,” snapped Chuang, and scurried down the waiting ladder, leaving the sergeant behind.

It was only a short walk to Jake’s quarters.

“Thank you, Master Chuang, he’s in here,” said Nadeen, showing him in. “Where is Physician Nolan?”

“He will see Jake shortly,” said Chuang. “We have to go meet him.

“Now help me get Jake onto the airship. Just Jake, you, and Mintran.”

He put his arm around Jake’s shoulders and slipped his hand under his armpit.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I can walk. It just hurts real bad every so often,” said Jake, standing.

“OK, let’s go.”

Chuang began walking with Jake. Nadeen held the door open, and told Captain Long to take command.

They walked toward the cliff wall and the waiting airship, and as they walked Nadeen felt a few gusts of wind, blowing leaves and ash into the air.

She looked up...the northwestern sky was getting dark... a black cloud how was growing over the Mohagger Mountains north of the fort.

They boarded the airship, which hauled up the gangplank and cast off immediately, soaring higher and toward the mountains... and that black cloud.

Gusts of wind swept the deck now, and the airship was buffeted back and forth as it approach the storm.

“Hang on!” called the airship’s captain. “Shouldn’t last very long, but hang on tight. We almost never tip over... just hang on. We have to do it this way to hide where you’re going!”

“Where are we going?” asked Jake, shielding his eyes from the rain.

“You’ll see!”

The aercaptain flew straight into the driving rain, flying as close to the wind as he could, working his way deeper and deeper into the cloud, and upwards.

“Almost there!”

True to the captain’s word, the sky began to lighten and the gusts to weaken, and then they broke through the clouds to see a stone wall in front of them!

They continued to rise along the wall, which turned into a stone wharf with an airship docked, building, trees... over there a minaret, some domes... It was huge! This was no airship!

It was a whole city! A city, hidden in the black cloud!

The airship cautiously rose above the surface, then landed flat on the wharf instead of floating next to it.

Physician Nolan was waiting there with another man, someone she’d never met before but seemed to be a Godsworn. And next to him was... the King!

Here! For Jake!

“King Kuranes! I didn’t expect to see you here!” said Jake, stepping off the airship and onto the wharf. “And on Serannian! You brought your whole city with you!”

“Welcome back, Commander. Captain Nadeen, welcome to Serannian, my floating city. I do wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

He escorted them up the marble steps to a large domed building nearby.

Nadeen looked around at the wharf, the park-like scene they were walking through now, with its lush grass and colorful flowers interspersed with status and gazebos.

She noticed that the wharf was dotted with catapults, scorpions, and other weapons of war, as well as winches, at least two airships that she could see, and a host of other things she didn’t have time to see properly.

And they were manned... This city was carrying an army! And hidden in that cloud, it could go almost anywhere undetected!

Inside the building, Nolan was waiting with several others.

“How are you, buddy?” said Nolan, guiding him to a low couch. “Lie down.”

Jake meekly laid down on the couch, and Nolan bent to take Jake’s arm for a quick pulse with one hand while gauging the color of Jake’s eyes.

“Doesn’t look like you have a fever, certainly no cough, no obvious injuries. What color was the blood?”

“Fresh, bright red,” said Nadeen.

“And he spit it up, no coughing, right?”

“No coughing. When he collapsed he was breathing normally.”

Nolan pulled out a cup-like device and held it against Jake’s chest, pressing his own ear to the top. “No congestion I can hear, heart’s fine.”

“No stethoscope?”

“Still working on it; this is an improvement over my ear, though. Shut up and let me listen.”

He listened a little more, then placed his hand on Jake’s stomach, pressing here and there.

Jake flinched.

“That hurt’s, huh? How about here...? And here?

“How long has your stomach hurt?”

“Uh... a month or two, I guess. Been too busy to pay it much attention.”

“OK, I’m pretty sure it’s just a bleeding ulcer, combined with lack of sleep and excessive stress,” said Nolan, sitting back. “You were about ready to collapse anyway, and then the ulcer kicked in to make it even worse. We can get the pain down pretty fast, but healing will take time.”

“Well, I am not sure that it is just an ulcer,” said Chuang. “Not with that Flayed One spending all that time around him!”

“A what...? A Flayed One?”

“I’ll explain in more detail later, Physician, but for now please let us—Healer Dunchanti and myself—take a look at Jake, too.”

“Of course,” said Nolan. He stood and stepped back to give them room.

The other man, the one Nadeen had thought a Godsworn, knelt next to Jake and placed his hand on Jake’s stomach.

“Dunchanti of Panakeia, Commander. I was sent to establish a temple to Panakeia at your fort, but it seems I have work here to finish first.”

Chuang knelt next to him, and also placed his hand on Jake’s stomach.

They closed their eyes and fell silent, motionless.

Their breathing slowed, became shallower, synchronized... and suddenly they opened their eyes, smiling.

“Not a trace!” said Chuang. “As the Physician said, he has a wound in his stomach, which we have treated a bit. It should heal with care, though.”

“Not a trace of what, exactly?” asked Nolan.

“A Flayed One—the Stain of Nyogtha—was somehow disguised as a colt, or perhaps even born as a colt, and was close to Jake many times recently. It was killed, but Jake collapsed at the same time, right as it was next to him.

“We needed to find out if it had somehow infected him... but there is no trace of the foul thing in Jake’s body.”

“It’s just an ulcer, then,” said Jake. “My dad always had ulcers, but I never figured I’d get them.”

“They’re caused by a bacteria called Helicobacter pylori, which is pretty common. For various reasons it suddenly starts eating holes in the lining of your stomach. Stress is a good way to make a minor ulcer a whole lot worse.”

“Had plenty of stress lately, no question about that... so what now? How do I fix it?”

“If I were back at the Project I’d have you fixed up in a few days, but no antibiotics here, so we’re going to have to do this the traditional way.”

“Which is?”

“Less stress, more sleep, no alcohol or tea or dairy products for a while, and eat lots of cabbage.”

“No tea? Tea’s the only thing that’s kept me going these last few weeks!”

“And there you have it!” proclaimed Nolan, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “Stress plus lots of tea. Boom. You’ve been feeding your ulcer well.”

“What’s with the cabbage?”

“It’s an old wives’ remedy, but as it turns out the vitamin C in it really does help people recover,” Nolan said. “Now that Master Chuang and Healer Dunchanti have taken the edge off, we should be able to get it back under control pretty easily, I think.

“Along with cabbage—especially cabbage juice—help yourself to honey and garlic, too.”

Jake closed his eyes.

“Can I at least have a cup of water, doctor?”

“All you want, Jake. Help yourself,” laughed Nolan, handing him one.

Jake looked at it morosely and slugged it down.

“Cabbage juice...”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Commander,” said King Kuranes, who had been quietly watching from the back of the room. “We left as soon as we got your dragolet, but I’m afraid Serannian is not as nimble as an airship.”

“Looks like you brought half the army, too! Thank you,” said Jake. “I think we managed to get things under control, though, thanks to the raptors and Matriarch Geriel.”

“Your Alchemist mounted a gun spraying thalassion fire on the airship, is that right?”

“Yes. I first thought it might possible right here, in fact, when the Matriarch mentioned lakes of naphtha... and it worked! One wyvern dead, one injured, one fled, and the enemy routed.”

The King nodded slowly.

“But now there is a new weapon of war, and I have no doubt that Thuba Mleen will find a way to duplicate it. The secret of thalassion is very well kept, but his alchemists are as clever as ours... it’s too late to put that genie back in the bottle, I’m afraid.”

“Putting the genie back in the bottle... is that what you and Mistress Mochizuki have been doing?”

“Of course; you didn’t know? Why did you think there were no cannon in the Dreamlands, and so few muskets?”

“You eliminated them all?”

“Hardly,” grimaced the King. “We’ve made sure that most of them explode when used, often killing the alchemists who try to invent them. They have quite a reputation now as unreliable gadgets that often kill the user, and fighters and armies are far less willing to use them.

“It’s a temporary measure, of course. We cannot stop them all, but it’s worked for quite a long time already.”

“...and that’s why you wanted to know so much about what I planned at that meeting...”

“Yes. I have seen firsthand what the Industrial Revolution can do for a society, and to a society, and it is my hope—our hope—that we can find a way to uplift the people without destroying them.”

“And Thuba Mleen? What does he want?”

“To rule,” said Kuranes. “Just that. He has no interest in bettering society, or the lives of the people, except as it relates to his own needs.”

“So how does he stay so powerful, over such an enormous area?”

“Because they think he is the Chosen of the Gods, and promises them eternal life in paradise.”

“And they believe him!?”

Kuranes shrugged.

“Where did he come from?”

“Nobody really knows. It is said he came from the Easternmost reaches of the Dreamlands, but that’s merely the most common rumor of many.”

“Well, wherever he came from, he’s here now and damn near killed us all,” said Jake, shaking his head.

“That will become a bit more difficult,” said the King, “when my reinforcements reach you. They’re on the way, but it’ll be some time until they reach you.”

“Reinforcements?”

“Yes, the heavy twelve we talked about: twelve Zar archers and six raptors. The raptors are well-trained, but still only dumb animals, I’m afraid.”

“Cornelia or one of her nest should be able to control them without difficulty,” said Chuang. “Cornelia is from a different nest, of course, but they know how to manipulate common raptors. Should not be any problem.”

“So that will give us ten raptors, too,” said Nadeen. “Good. Not a full twelve, but raptors are invaluable, especially Cornelia and the other three intelligent ones.”

“When you return to Fort Campbell I’ll also send one of my castle artificers to help you improve the defenses.”

“It’s Fort Danryce now,” said Jake.

“I’m sorry... did Captain Danryce die in the battle?”

“Yes, one of the bombs killed him while he was defending the postern. And others, of course.”

“We have lost an outstanding captain,” said the King. “Over the years Thuba Mleen has taken too many fine men and women from us.”

“It was originally intended to be a monastery,” said Nadeen, “and while it has excellent defenses for a monastery, it needs better walls, towers along the wall and flanking the gates, possibly a moat or palisades, and a few other things.”

“And you shall have them,” said Kuranes. “But for now you must return to Fort Danryce and Serannian continue on its way, or its secret shall be revealed.”

“King Kuranes,” ventured Jake slowly, “I had originally planned on taking my time to build a strong, professional fighting force, but if Thuba Mleen attacks like this I can’t do it the way I planned. I either need more troops at the fort, or I have to stop taking mercenary contracts to earn money, so those troops can be at the fort as needed.

“You have been very generous with gold until now... I hesitate to ask, but if you feel my plan has merit, would it be possible to increase the budget?”

Kuranes laughed.

“Dear Jake, you can have as much as you want, of course. I’ll arrange for it immediately.”

“As much as I want!? That’s a very unusual offer, to say the least...”

“You forget that I dreamed Celephaïs and Serannian into existence. Did you think I wouldn’t take care of a minor point like that at the same time? I meant it quite literally... as much as you want.”

“Good Lord!.... It hadn’t occurred to me just what I’m dealing with here. I mean, I could accept being transported, somehow, to a different world, but to find that you can arbitrarily make stuff...”

“It took me quite some time, too. And practice... Chuang helped me clean up a number of, um, learning experiences, I believe you call them.”

“Can you dream anything?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. It may be because my mind is too puny, or it may be because it is simply impossible, I don’t know. I can dream almost anything non-living, though...”

“Can you teach me to do it?”

“Chuang and I agree that it can’t be taught, only improved. You’re born with it, or you’re not.”

“And I’m not.”

“Unfortunately, it seems so. As far as we can tell, at any rate.”

“Damn. It would have been quite handy...”

“Yes, it can be. It can also be a source of constant anguish when I discover I cannot create what I must create, and lose something irreplaceable as a result...”

They fell silent for a moment.

Jake stood, rubbing his stomach.

“Thank you, King Kuranes, for your support. For everything.”

“Thank you, Commander. We shall continue this discussion in the near future.”

The King left, and Jake turned to Nolan.

“Thanks, Nolan. Feel free to drop by anytime... free dinner, on the house.”

Nolan laughed.

“I’m too busy to go running around in the hinterlands now,” he said. “Maybe in a couple years.”

“Busy? Doing what?”

“They’ve asked me to set up a medical college together with some other people. Huge project, and guess who gets to make all the decisions? ...well, most of the tough ones, anyway...”

“Well, well, well... back in academia, are you? I thought you said you’d never teach again!”

“Yeah, I thought so to, but The Project hasn’t been paying my salary lately, so I thought I’d give it a try. Always wanted to be in charge!”

“I think you’re just the man for the job,” said Jake. “You certainly know your shit, if they’ll just let you do it.”

“It’s proving... challenging. We’re trying to combine my knowledge of how things work with ibn Sina’s older, traditional approach, and the healing powers of Panakeia. Prayer and the laying on of the hands and stuff. But it works!”

“No electronics, no drugs...”

“Nope, but just knowing the details of how a lot of things work turns out to be a game-changer in traditional medicine or faith healing.”

“Well, good luck to you, Nolan.”

Jake hugged the other briefly, and left to the waiting airship.

Nadeen walked by his side, still a bit awed by the scale of the floating city and meeting the King, with Chuang close behind.

“Master Chuang, how long will you stay with us?”

“Just long enough to examine all the horses,” said Chuang, “and take another hard look at that stone block set into the floor of the church.”

“The church is an infirmary right now,” said Jake. “Might be a bit crowded.”

“Master Chuang and I will help take care of that,” said Healer Dunchanti, walking next to Chuang. “I’ll set up a temporary temple to Panakeia there and work with Master Chuang on healing your injured, until I can get a real temple built nearby.”

“I wish you could have come sooner, but you’re more than welcome,” said Jake. “Will a Godsworn of Nath-Horthath be joining us, too? We had planned on setting up a school.”

“He should arrive soon,” said Chuang. “He’s coming from Kadatheron, with a small escort. They don’t have any temples in this area, probably because of the low population, but plan to open a school here, or in Cadharna.”

As they boarded the airship, the captain advised them to go below and brace themselves.

“We’re going to fly out through the storm, too,” he said, “to better hide our tracks. And it’ll be rough.”

They cast off and dropped very rapidly, the deck tilting to about a thirty-degree angle. The whistling of the wind rose, the cabin grew dark, and the airship once again shook and rattled.

The airship’s spine creaked as it bent, and it tipped to the side for an instant, and then suddenly a ray of brilliant sunshine came burning in through the window. Above them the black thunderstorm was scudding southwest toward the sea, and the last few wayward gusts rocked the airship in parting.

They were somewhere in the southern extent of the Mohaggers, thought Jake, studying the profiles of the peaks around them. They were a few hours distant from the fort, and anyone who might have been watching would have been unable to tell just what direction they had come from because of the thunderstorm. And nobody would imagine they’d been inside the eye of the storm!

Jake looked back at the black clouds they were leaving behind... a black thunderstorm, it seemed, but inside...

“I understand it floats because the King wants it to, but what it is made of, Master Chuang?”

“Adamant.”

“I’ve heard of that somewhere, long ago...”

“Adamant is made from an ore only mined on the moon, called adamantite. It can only be refined and worked by magic, because it is infinitely hard and no natural force can affect it.”

“Infinitely? Infinity is a pretty big word, Master Chuang... You really mean that?”

“It’s a magical element, and yes, our theory suggests that it is indeed infinitely hard, infinitely tough, infinitely rigid. If it were only easier to mine and easier to shape, it would be incredibly useful.”

“Infinitely hard,...” said Jake almost to himself. “Fascinating...”

The captain swung the prow around and headed for Fort Danryce.

Chapter 4

A few weeks later Beorhtwig could even run without it hurting much.

The wyvern, Flogdreka, didn’t seem to be in physical pain, even after he and Mintran cut off the burnt wing, but he was a very unhappy wyvern.

He should have been a lot happier when they took his saddle and harness off, but he barely seemed to notice. It was quite big and heavy, since it had to hold the rider safely while the enormous wyvern flew, or dove, or spun in midair. It was similar to a horse saddle, modified to mount securely without interfering with either wings or legs, and of course was considerably larger.

Flogdreka ate sparingly. Wyverns normally only ate two or three times a month, and although he needed a lot more protein to regrow his wing properly, he had eaten only once since plunging to the ground that day.

Mintran and even Horsemaster Turan had checked him out as well as they could, and found nothing wrong. He didn’t seem to have internal injuries, and his wing was regenerating rapidly, but he still refused to get up.

Beorhtwig almost never left his side, and the wyvern had come to trust him completely now. Even when they amputated the wing Flogdreka didn’t move, just closed his eyes and lay there as Beorhtwig scratched his cheek.

Something else was wrong.

He trudged back into the fort to talk to Healer Dunchanti again.

The wall was covered in scaffolding and workers, with a couple of winches set up atop the wall to help lift huge blocks of stone into place. It would be weeks, at least, before it was all done. The new main gate would be double, one on either side of the wall with a killing zone between them.

Work was also under way on the defensive towers: twin towers flanking each of the gates, and a few more spaced around the battlements. Attackers would have a harder time breaking down the gates next time.

The captains had talked about repairing the huge gates on the road up from the grasslands below, but since the last attack had come over the mountains, the general consensus was that it was a waste of time and effort—not to mention they’d have to man it for it to be of any use at all.

There was more interest in building a moat, or even a palisade, on the high side of the fort, where the gates were, but bedrock made a moat impossible. It might be possible to put up a palisade of sharpened stakes, but cutting holes in the rock would take a long time.

The old bell tower had a gong in it now, too, to sound the alarm. Turned out it was much quicker to make a good gong than a good bell.

They’d moved some of the cattle and chickens inside the fort. The livestock was housed as far away from the barracks as possible, but the stench was still pretty strong. Most of the troopers were already used to those odors from their childhoods, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

He had it much easier, staying outside the walls with Flogdreka.

Except that Flogdreka wasn’t recovering mentally, somehow.

Healer Duchanti was in the church, where he had set up a temporary temple of Panakeia and taken over much of the healing, freeing Mintran to return to his alchemy.

“Healer? Do you have a moment?”

Duchanti turned from the bedside where one of his remaining patients lay, smiling.

“Trooper Beorhtwig, of course. How can I help you?”

“It’s about Flogdreka. Again.”

“You’re worried about his wing.”

“No, not really... it seems to be growing back properly. Thank you for keeping an eye on it... I’m worried about his spirit.”

“His spirit?”

“He should be eager to fly, to eat, even to walk around, but he is listless and mostly disinterested in everything.”

“When I checked him the other day he seemed quite healthy, except for the wing of course.”

“Yes, I know. And he eats what I give him, but without actually enjoying it.”

“You know more of wyverns than I, I suspect... what do you think is the problem?”

“I don’t know... if I had to guess I’d say he was sad.”

“Because he can’t fly?”

“I don’t think that’s the problem... or at least, not the root cause. But I can’t imagine what the problem might be, or how to help him.”

“If he were human I’d suspect he was in love!” joked Duchanti.

Beorhtwig’s mouth fell open.

“...in... love... Of course! That’s it, Healer! That’s it!”

“He loves you!?”

“Not me, his mate! The wyvern that fled was his mate! That explains it! He must think she’s dead!”

“Of course... they mate for life,” said Duchanti, nodding. “But she flew back to Thuba Mleen; surely the same as dead as far as your wyvern is concerned.”

Beorhtwig paced the stone floor, thinking furiously.

“He can’t understand speech, of course, so I can’t just tell him. He’d have to see her with his own eyes... but her master is one of Thuba Mleen’s fighters.”

“Sounds like you’ll have to visit Thuba Mleen’s wyvern pens, once the wing is healed,” said the Healer.

“Yes, and somehow free her to rejoin Flogdreka. But how...?”

He was so deep in thought as he left the church he forgot to even thank the Healer.

It would be a while yet before Flogdreka could fly again.

 

* * *

 

Jake, Nadeen, and Captain Long pored over the drawings.

The King’s architect, Artificer Takatora, pulled out another sheet to show how the towers flanking the main gate had overlapping fields of fire, and archers could shoot at attackers without revealing themselves. The new main gate consisted of two gates, both massive and well defended, and the space between them—directly under the wall—was in turn protected by “murder holes” that allowed defenders to fire arrows straight down, or drop rocks or boiling oil on the attackers.

“Even the best defenses will be penetrated unless they are manned,” said Takatora. “These openings—the arrow slits in the battlements and the murder holes here—make it possible to inflict considerable losses on the attacker while preserving your own forces.”

“Once the towers are finished, both the ones flanking the gates and the ones along the wall, I think you’ll be reasonably secure.

“You don’t have to worry about tunnels since you’re on solid rock, and about half your periphery is protected by the height of the cliff.”

“And grenades?” asked Jake.

“Not much we can do to stop grenades,” said Takatora. “Make your walls as massive as possible and train your archers to kill the grenadiers before they get too close.

“I think your biggest worries are having enough people available to defend both gates and wall adequately, and siege. You should boost Captain Nadeen’s troop to at least a heavy twelve, and two full twelves if possible. If you expect attack, three would be even better.”

“That’s a heck of a lot of troopers for such a small fort,” mused Nadeen.

“Yes, but if you need to defend the wall again an attack, a single twelve will be overstretched and overwhelmed. Let alone have enough spare force for a sally to destroy siege machines.”

“There’s plenty of wood out there to build siege machines, that’s for sure,” said Captain Long. “and since they can’t be carried over the mountains, they’d have to build them here. Hopefully our patrols will give us enough warning to take care of them before they become a problem.

“And with Mintran’s thalassion fire we can probably destroy any siege machines that get close to the fort anyway.”

“Even without siege machines, though, all they have to do is stop us from leaving the fort,” said Nadeen. “That’s why I agreed to move the chickens and cows inside, even though they stink.”

“You’re closer to them than I am!” laughed Long.

“Yeah... The whole fort has a distinctly unpleasant smell now, all day,” complained Jake. “I’d hoped the stream through there would help, but it hasn’t yet.”

“The stream is your biggest weak point,” said Takatora. “If they poison your water, or simply divert the stream, your water supply is reduced to that single well.

“And I’m a bit concerned about where that well draws it water from, too, because it might well be the same stream, in which case you’d be left with no water at all.”

“What do you think, Captain?” asked Jake, turning to Captain Long. “We can make more water barrels easily enough, but there are limits to how much water we can store that way, and how long we can store it. I’d be happier if we knew more about that well.”

“It’s never gone dry, even when the stream was a lot smaller last summer. I can ask Captain Ridhi if she’s noticed anything.”

“Any way we can drop some dye or something into the stream and see if it turns up in the well?”

“Sure, but we have no way of knowing where the stream might be connected to the well, or how long it might take for dye to penetrate. Worth trying, though!”

Jake rubbed his chin, looking at the ceiling.

“You know, we never did explore that tunnel under the church,” he mused. “The one with the stone block sealing it off.”

“And after finding those metal plates hidden under the floor I’m not sure I want to!” said Nadeen.

“We never did figure out how the Flayed One got to the horses,” said Jake. “It could have been from there, in which case I’d really like to know more about what’s down there.”

“Tunnel? What tunnel?” asked Takatora.

“Sorry, you’ve probably never seen it,” said Jake. “In the floor of the church there is a large stone block set into the floor, about a meter square, with bolts in the top to lift it with. It’s about half a meter thick, and massive.

“We lifted it up a bit when we first got here, and it was just an empty tunnel.

“We’ve never explored it, but it runs close to the stream, and it was completely dry.”

“And why do you think it might have something to do with the Flayed One?”

“When Councilor Nekhii was here with Matriarch Geriel, he found a book, sort of, hidden in a cavity in the floor. Master Chuang has it now. Apparently it’s very, very old, and has something to do with Nyogtha... we think this monastery was built for the worship of Nyogtha, and that might be why it was destroyed.”

“Interesting,” said Takatora. “A tunnel under the fort, a stream, and a well... worth looking into!”

“I say we do a little exploring,” suggested Nadeen. “I’ve always felt a little uneasy about having a secret door inside the fort; about time we had a look.”

“I’m not much on tunnels,” said Long. “but why not ask Bagatur Khasar? The Ibizim have been using the ancient tunnels for generations... they should have a better idea of how to investigate.”

“Excellent idea,” nodded Jake. “They’re out on patrol today, I think with Seri, but I’ll talk to him about it tonight.”

“Can I see this secret door?” asked Takatora.

“Sure,” said Jake, standing up. “We can go have a look at it right now if you like... the church has been converted into two temporary temples, but now that most of the wounded are gone there shouldn’t be any problem.”

They left the meeting room, walking through the library and into the church. That end was set up as the temple of Panakeia, but the opening in the floor was almost in the center of the building, between the two temples.

Jake noticed that lessons were already under way in the other one, the temple of Nath-Horthath. Rorkaln was helping a group of troopers—he recognized a few of them from Beghara’s twelve—practice reading.

He nodded to the Godsworn, not wanting to interrupt, and pointed to the hooks embedded into the floor. He explained in a quiet voice.

“We ran rope through the hooks, and then through pulleys on the columns there, and there, and on the other side. The pulleys were all gone when we first came here, but I’m pretty sure that’s how they lifted the block, too... the bolts are perfectly positioned to use them, and the damn thing is much too heavy to just lift.”

Takatora looked at the bolts and the pulleys, then studied the block itself.

“This is different stone than the stone used in the building, and in the walls. Is it from the same quarry?”

“I don’t know... the quarry we’re using—the one the village has always used—seems to be the same one used to build the whole fort, but I have no idea where this block came from.”

“Hmm... in any case, I think you’re right about the pulleys... Yes, assuming those bolts were in the columns to start with,” he said, “but I wonder about these bolts here.”

He knelt down on one knee to examine the bolts in the floor stone more closely.

“It’s not clear to me how these bolts were inserted... they obviously don’t pull out, or you wouldn’t have been able to lift the stone, but there’s no sign of cement or anything being used to hold them in place. The rock isn’t cut or split around the bolts; they just emerge from a perfectly sized hole, with no gap at all between the bolt and the rock. Or at least very little gap—maybe it’s just very small and full of dirt, making it almost invisible.

“Even so, it’s incredibly tight...”

“Now that you mention it,” said Jake, “the stone barely made a whisper when we lifted it that time... a very quiet sliding noise, no grinding or scraping at all.”

“Yeah, I remember thinking how strange that was at the time,” agreed Nadeen.

“OK, let’s do it,” said Jake. “I’ll talk to the Bagatur tonight and get it set up. I figure he’ll want some special supplies, too... torches, rope, whatnot...”

“I wish we had some sunstones,” said Captain Long.

“Me, too,” laughed Takatora, “but they’re damn rare and more expensive than I’ll ever be able to afford!”

“What’s a sunstone?”

“The lizardfolk used them to light their caverns,” explained Takatora. “They’re crystal balls maybe about, oh, twenty or thirty centimeters in diameter, pretty heavy. I saw one once in Celephaïs.

“Basically, they absorb any light that falls on them when they’re wet, and emit it again when they’re dry. Normally they emit at the same brilliance they absorbed the light at, and for the same length of time, but if you dampen them—just get them a little wet—you can reduce the output to make it last longer.

“There can’t be more than a couple dozen of them in all of the Dreamlands.”

“Huh, neat! A rechargeable light... and no electronics to get Reed all upset!” enthused Jake. “I want to get one for Mintran to play with, because it opens up a whole lot of possibilities.”

“Like the Artificer said, they’re rare.”

“I know some people,” smiled Jake. “Maybe they can help make it happen.”

“In any case, when you finally open this, tomorrow or whenever, I’d like to be here to get a closer look at the stonework,” said Takatora. “Send someone to tell me and I’ll come running.”

“Easy enough,” nodded Jake. “I will.”

He looked up to see Rorkaln, the Godsworn at the adjacent temple to Nath-Horthath, approaching.

“Godsworn Rorkaln, I hope we didn’t disturb you?”

“Oh, no, Commander, not at all. They concentrate well and are not easily distracted, but I fear some of them will never master literacy.”

“How many is ‘some’?”

“One or two out of every twelve, I’m afraid.”

“That’s better than I’d hoped for,” said Jake. “All officers, sergeant and up, will have to be literate soon... Maybe I haven’t made that clear enough yet?”

“I think everyone knows it by now,” said Sergeant Long. “Just some troopers are happy where they are. They aren’t interested in promotions.”

“That’s fine, too, as long as they don’t get angry because they’re skipped over.”

“If they do Captain Nadeen and I will take care of it.”

“How are your studies coming along, Captain?”

“Captain Long is making excellent progress,” said the Godsworn. “He already knows Ibizim, so the concepts of reading and writing are not foreign to him. All he had to do was learn some new letters and how to spell.”

“Like he says, I’m OK,” grunted Long.

“Excellent.

“Godsworn Rorkaln, how are discussions going with the villagers? For your temple?”

“Well, Commander.

“They are delighted to have schooling, and that a temple will be built here, even a small one. I don’t think there’s really space for it here at the fort, though, and to be honest the temple really shouldn’t be inside a fort anyway. We’re using an empty hut in the village as a school now, but once the temple is built I expect we’ll move the school there.

“You know, the butcher said that since he delivers so much meat here, he was thinking of maybe moving his farm and shop out here, to be closer. He said a few other people he knew had been thinking of the same thing: a few merchants and a few of your hired hands.”

“There’s no room in the fort,” said Jake. “Outside the gates? Or do you mean down on the plain?”

“Down on the plain. Plenty of water, good cropland once it’s plowed, grass for the livestock... if there wasn’t already a village nearby this wouldn’t be a bad place to make one.”

“So we’re going to get our own castle town already, then.”

“Plenty of room for my temple, and for a temple to Panakeia, too.”

“You’re not worried about what might happen if the fort is attacked?”

“The villagers say they used to be, but since half the village got torched the last time anyway, they figure closer to the fort might be better... they can always flee inside for protection.

“About this stone, though... I believe you are discussing raising it, and exploring the tunnel underneath?”

“Yes. I need to make sure this isn’t some secret entrance into the fort. If the stone’s too heavy to raise that’s fine, but it’s a strange thing to have in a church.”

“Master Chuang told me of the book you found here, Commander, and I suspect the church and this door also involve Nyogtha. It might be dangerous to explore.”

“Thuba Mleen makes it dangerous to merely be alive,” replied Jake. “Unless Bagatur Khasar has some objection, we’re going to find out what’s down there.”

“I have found no trace of Nyogtha or any other foul creature here, but underneath... I have no idea what may lurk there.”

“I know, Godsworn, but neither do I, and that’s what bothers me.”

“When do you suppose we might get new glass for these windows, Commander?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Captain Ridhi is having glass made in Ilarnek now. Clear glass, I’m afraid, not fancy stained glass windows.”

“Excellent! We’ll want them in the winter.”

“I have no objection to you—or Healer Dunchanti—replacing them with stained glass of your own, however.”

“At our expense, no doubt,” smiled Rorkaln. “No need, though... these are temporary quarters, until Nath-Horthath’s new temple is completed.”

“As you wish. Fortunately, the weather makes windows unnecessary at this time of year... and by fall they should be installed.

“If you will excuse us, Godsworn, we must return to our work,” Jake said, and they returned to the meeting room.

“Artificer Takatora, if you will forgive me, I must see Alchemist Mintran.”

Captain Long and Nadeen stayed with the Artificer to work out a few more details as Jake walked to Mintran’s laboratory.

“I see you’re keeping busy, Alchemist,” he called as he stepped into the low-ceilinged building.

Mintran looked up from his workbench, covered with bits and pieces of metal, and large spools of wire shining dully.

“Commander!” Mintran started to stand, but Jake waved him back down.

“How are the mechanisms coming along?”

Mintran waved at the tabletop.

“Einar’s copper wire is wonderful. He swaged it down extremely well, and it has very little variation in diameter that I can see. My fingertips hurt.”

Jake grinned.

“Your waterwheel should be up and running in a day or two, and once we get it set up to spool the wire properly, your fingertips will be just fine.

“More importantly, though, what about timers?”

“I think I figured out a way to use the same weight to act as a timer.”

“Excellent! And portability?”

“Oh, it’s easy to carry, but because of that weight it needs to hang from something. You need at least two meters, more if you want a timer, for the necessary force.”

“Damn,” muttered Jake. “What I’d give for some Duracells...”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind... have you tested any?”

“Just one. It worked, but the sound echoed off the mountains. Everyone was pretty excited for awhile; I don’t think they ever figured it out.”

“When you’re ready just let me know, and I’ll get de Palma to give you a lift to somewhere secluded.”

“You’re really playing with fire here, you know... if this gets into the wrong hands...”

“I know. But I don’t see any other way.”

“Yessir,” nodded Mintran.

“We’ll get the bastard, one way or another. Keep me informed.”

He smiled as he left.

Another plan was beginning to come together.

Chapter 5

“Explore the tunnel?” asked Bagatur Khasar. “That sounds simple enough... we use the tunnels of the lizard people all the time, so tunnels do not frighten us.

“We’re far from the realm of the Ibizim, though, and on the other side of the Mohaggers. I’ve never heard of lizard people statues or tunnels in this area, or indeed anywhere from the Mohaggers to the coast.

“We can be ready to go tomorrow, if you like. My twelve will be delighted to escape Sergeant TiTi’s constant training and lectures.”

Jake laughed.

“Nobody likes training, but it’s really necessary. In addition to improving skills and abilities throughout the company, we’re also discovering some interesting things that we need to address. One trooper was totally deaf, for example, and another has been hiding a bad back for months.

“In any case, yes, if you can be ready by tomorrow that would be excellent. The sooner the better,” said Jake. “You’ll take your sand lizards, too?”

“Yes. They can sense heat, and warn us of things lurking in the darkness where our light does not reach.”

“Torches?”

“Yes, plenty of torches, of course. Food, water, marking paint, rope, a few other things,” said Khasar, counting off on his fingers. “I haven’t explored a new tunnel in years!”

“Well, it probably goes to a temple to Nyogtha... might not be as much fun as you expect,” warned Jake dryly. “Among other things, get some of those fire flasks from Mintran. He’s been making up a couple batches for future use, and they might come in real handy in tight spaces.”

“The thalassion fire? Yes, that could be very useful, thank you.”

“Anything else, ask Captain Ridhi, and tell her to talk to me if there’s a problem.”

“I will, Commander,” said Khasar. “Let me bring my twelve up to speed.”

“Thank you, Bagatur.”

After the Commander left, Bagatur Khasar walked over to their temporary barracks, a collection of tents that served well enough until the new barracks were finished.

He called his twelve together around the fire, and told them that instead of their planned patrol tomorrow, they’d be exploring a tunnel. They were all familiar with tunnels, but they were less enthusiastic when he filled them in on the details, and mentioned Nyogtha.

“Elbek and Narmandakh, to the armory. Get twelve sheafs of arrows, and however more quivers we need. Everyone will carry a quiver, not just the archers.”

“Yes, Bagatur. That’ll be four more quivers, I think. I’ll check.”

“Good. And I want half a dozen grenades, too. You might want to be careful with those. Mönkhbat, Tümen, and, uh, Jochi, go get half a dozen coils of rope, and a week’s worth of food for the sand lizards. We have a little here, but we’ll need more jerky.”

The two lizard handlers left for the storehouse, now located along the eastern wall.

“And Chaghatai, I want you to go find the Alchemist. I want a dozen flasks of thalassion, more if he can spare it. Tell him it’s a request from the Commander, and we’ll give him back whatever we don’t use.”

“Might be a bit dicey to carry back a dozen flasks full of exploding oil, Bagatur...”

“Yeah, might be. Try not to drop any. And take someone with you to help.”

“Monkhbayar! You’re up, woman. Time for a little stroll.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, getting up and brushing the dirt off her boots. “There’d better be some ale left when I get back!”

“The rest of you, with me. Captain Ridhi is going to give us a week’s worth of food.”

“How about a little ale, Bagatur?” came a voice from the back.

“Drink it here, Davaajav. No ale for you on a mission ever again!”

They all laughed. Davaajav’s fondness for ale was famous.

“Everyone, make sure your water’s full, too, before we leave tomorrow. Canteens, and a couple skins.”

Everything was ready within an hour, and in spite of the looming threat of Nyogtha, they were happy to be going somewhere and doing something instead of just training and patrolling the same old forest, mountains, and grasslands again and again.

They were up at dawn, as usual, and Ridhi had their breakfasts waiting for them in the mess. They shoveled it in, knowing they’d be living off beans and jerky, plus whatever they could find along the way. They’d bring tea with them, of course—everyone drank tea—but whether they’d find anything to make a fire with or no was anyone’s guess.

The Commander was already in the church, helping Captain Beghara’s twelve get the lifting ropes set. They’d had the night guard shift and were supposed to be off-duty at dawn, but he needed their help getting the block lifted... and until Bagatur Khasar came back again, the open hole would have to be guarded, too.

They lifted the block up slowly, the pulleys managing its enormous weight without difficulty, and after they’d raised it high enough, slid two logs underneath to hold it, allowing the Bagatur and his twelve to drop into the square opening.

The two sand lizards went first, waddling forward, tongues flicking, down the inclined floor into the darkness, followed by the Bagatur, torch in hand.

The rest of the twelve followed suit, and they quickly moved down the tunnel and out of sight.

The tunnel sloped downward from the opening, quickly getting higher and wider. As they walked they examined the tunnel in the light of their torches, revealing smooth, almost featureless walls, floor, and ceiling.

It was clean, naturally. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years, maybe decades. Even the spiders were long-dead in their decaying webs, with nothing to eat. The air was bone-dry.

Just featureless blocks of a whitish stone, fitted together amazingly tightly, with barely a crack showing between them.

“Chaghatai, you agree we’re heading right under the Mohaggers?”

“Yeah, think so, Bagatur. My compass isn’t very reliable down here, but I’d guess about northwest. You?”

“The same. We’ve been walking about an hour, on a steady incline, so we’d be right under the first peaks right about now, I figure.”

“Yup. Air’s still good, though!”

“Anyone else? Notice anything?”

Nobody had, and the sand lizards were acting perfectly normal. Obviously they hadn’t sensed anything except empty tunnel, either.

“I don’t see any reason to keep walking like this,” said the Bagatur. “If there’s aren’t any openings anywhere, we might as well up the pace until we get somewhere.

“Let’s get a move on, people!”

They shifted into a leisurely trot that they could keep up all day if they had to, although the lizards would run out of steam in about an hour of this, even with the coolth of the tunnel.

About fifteen minutes later, Khasar called a halt, and lifted his torch up high.

There was something carved into the wall, vertical lines of characters.

“T’pictyl.”

“Yup. Anyone read T’pictyl?”

The other crowded around.

“I read a little,” said Monkhbayar. “The Matriarch insisted we all get a little practice, and I ended up liking it... let me see.”

The black-haired woman stepped closer to study the carvings, running her eyes down the lines slowly and mumbling to herself.

“This is High T’pictyl, which means no vowels. I can’t figure out some of it, but it looks like a poem of welcome. There’s a lot of flowery language, I think, but it says travelers from distant lands are welcome in peace to this place. The place is named TKN, and since didn’t write the vowels I don’t know how to pronounce that. Takana, maybe?”

“OK, we’ll go with Takana for now. Does it say what Takana is?”

“No... but I’d guess a city, given that they bothered to put this poem here.”

“That doesn’t sound like Nyogtha to me...”

“Me neither,” she agreed. “But it looks like somebody lives here, or did.”

Just beyond the welcome message there was a set of steps, and then the tunnel opened up into a huge cavern, lit by the same faintly blue phosphorescent cave lichen they knew from the tunnels in the Ibizim realm. It was impossible to tell just how large it was because a thin mist concealed the far side, and the ceiling. After the first echo they switched to whispers and stealthy footfalls, hoping to avoid the notice of things they didn’t want to meet.

They snuffed their torches, keeping a few coals so they could relight them in a hurry if they had to.

The white-paved path continued straight ahead, sloping down slightly into the cavern, which seemed to have a shallow, dish-shaped floor. In the distance they could make out what looked like a forest, with open water—a lake, maybe? A graceful minaret soared nearby, glittering darkly in the bluish light.

Low buildings flanked the road they were on, which continued straight into the center of the “city.” The buildings, almost all of the same white stone, rose higher and higher into the distance.  

The low buildings along both sides of the road were all uninhabited as far as they could see. Clumps of vegetation began to appear here and there, some obviously overgrown gardens or parks, and others just random growths.

A shadow passed overhead, and Khasar automatically flinched, looking up to see what it was.

Just a bird swooping by; nothing to worry about.

He could head the chirping and whirring of insects, and in the distance faint birdsong. And water!

They reached an intersection, and stopped in wonder... ahead of them was an overgrown park, overlooked by a gigantic statue of a lizardfolk. It bore no weapons, unlike most statues of the lizard people they had seen, and carried a scroll instead. The statue wore a bare harness with no armor at all, and in spite of the lichen growing on its head and shoulders, looked serene.

“A city of the lizardfolk...” breathed Khasar. “I’ve seen ancient dwellings and small villages in our own tunnels, but never a city of this scale...”

“And deserted, as they all are,” added Chaghatai.

“Bagatur,” called Tümen from the right flank. “My lizard says there’s something over this way.”

“Something moving?”

“I don’t know, but it’s flicking its tongue and banging its tail... it’s excited about something.”

“OK, let’s go have a look,” said the Bagatur. “Spread out and stay alert... just because this place looks deserted doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

Tümen’s sand lizard suddenly darted forward and snapped at something.

“Just a frog,” said Tümen, laughing. “About time for lunch, I think.”

The sand lizard left the road, turning toward what must have been a villa garden, now overgrown with weeds and scraggly trees festooned with vines.

It stopped, testing the air, its tongue flicking in and out rapidly, and the other lizard waddled up to join it. Neither one made any effort to enter, but there was obviously something in there that interested them—or worried them.

“Tsogbayar, hop up on that wall and see what’s in there, would you?”

She clambered up the wall, slowly raising her head and then her body to lie on top. She fitted an arrow to her bowstring but held it in place, string slack.

“I don’t see anything... Just a lot of overgrown weeds and bushes, and a fountain. Nothing moving,” she reported. “Lizards still nervous?”

“Still testing the air,” said Tümen.

“Elbek, get up there with her.”

Elbek, another archer, scrambled up onto the wall on the other side of the gate. Between them they should be able to cover most of the garden.

“Jargal, Davaajav, go with Mönkhbat and her lizard and check out the villa. The rest of you, with me.”

Leaving Tümen and her sand lizard at the gate, Khasar cautiously led them into the garden.

The lizard at the gate stayed where it was, head up, tongue flicking, tail slowly flexing back and forth.

Swords drawn, they advanced through the garden, trying to avoid the thickest weeds as they approached the fountain. Another bird slipped through the air, diving to catch something black and buzzing in its beak before darting off again.

Something rattled; Khasar looked down to see a small skull, maybe a badger or something. He held his hand up, motioning the others to halt, then picked it up are showed it around, questioning the others silently.

Narmandakh nodded and held up two fingers, then used her hands to indicate the size. Small.

Several others shook their heads, but Monkhbayar signed that there was a big one. Big enough to be human? Or one of the lizardfolk?

Khasar indicated his own head, questioning, and Monkhbayar nodded. Human, then.

It wouldn’t be unusual to find a dead animal in an abandoned garden, but at least four?

He signed to move ahead, and then slipped forward again, closer to the fountain.

He could hear the water dripping down the little cliff at the far end of the garden, running down toward the pond and the fountain, but the fountain wasn’t working, of course.

Something strange about that pool, though... there was something funny about the color...

A thin black whip shot up out of the pool, coiling around Narmandakh’s leg and pulling her off her feet in an instant. She fell heavily on one shoulder with a curse, her sword flying from her hand.

Chaghatai was the closest, and leapt to grasp her arm, bracing himself against the pull of that dully glistening black strand.

Narmandakh screamed, and the flesh of her leg began melting away, dissolved by some acid, blood dribbling then spurting as she writhed in agony.

Khasar’s sword flashed, cutting through the black strand and freeing Narmandakh. Chaghatai toppled backwards, pulling her with him away from the pool. Monkhbayar grabbed him with one hand and Narmandakh with the other, dragging both away with all her strength.

The black thing on her leg continued to pulse, spreading up her leg as if it had a life of its own, even though severed from its parent. It thinned into a film covering more and more of her body as her screams lessened and her body grew thinner, until finally she fell silent.

His face twisted in a grimace, teeth bared, Khasar pulled a flask of thalassion fire from his pack and poured it over her body and the black mass, which had already tripled in size.

He dropped a coal from his firebox and stood there even as the flames shot up, the heat crisping the hair on his face.

He watched that black monstrosity wither and crack and burn until it was as dead as she was.

“Now we know what happened to the city,” said Chaghatai dully.

“Nyogtha?”

“Or one of its spawn.”

“If they’re all like that... we can’t burn them all,” said Khasar. “I think we’re done here... any reason to stay?”

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered someone to a grumble of murmurs.

“Bagatur!”

It was Tümen, at the gate.

“More of them coming!”

Khasar ran to the gate to see the road covered with a black tar, rippling turgidly toward them. Both directions... they couldn’t escape through this gate anymore!

“Into the villa, quickly!”

The archers jumped down off the wall, and joined the others as they rushed for the building. Davaajav had just stepped out onto the patio from inside.

“What is it?”

“Later. Back inside, fast!” shouted the Bagatur. “Where are the others?”

“Inside... what is it?”

“The Stain of Nyogtha,” explained Khasar briefly, glancing back into the garden to make sure everyone was into the villa. The first black tendrils were seeping in through the garden gate.

“Straight through and out the front door. Move!”

They raced through the building, past deserted rooms and abandoned, rotting furniture and clothing.

The front gate, once of sturdy wood faced with orichalc and silver, lay decaying on the ground, one gatepost collapsed and covered in moss.

To the right, a river of black pulsed toward them.

They ran left up the empty road, and the blackness pursued, flowing almost as fast as they were running, tiny black tentacles spitting out every so often hoping to catch one of them.

“The minaret!”

Khasar pointed toward the soaring tower, and they changed course.

One of the huge doors, covered with gold and silver plates depicting lizardfolk, was ajar.

They slipped inside.

“Push them shut!”

They lined up along the open door, pushing it with all their might, and it slowly, grudgingly, moved with a complaining screech.

A black tendril seeped in the narrowing crack, questing for flesh.

A small flask arced out of the door, landing on the black film outside and bursting open. A hot coal followed, and with a whump it ignited, flames whipping up to fill the doorway in an instant, and even as that black tendril withered and died the door slammed shut.

Khasar and Jargal dropped the bolt into place, and they all panted, shaking until Chaghatai pointed to the bottom of the door, and they silently watched a small black pool begin to seep under it and into the building.

“Upstairs!”

The Bagatur urged the others up the broad stairs, watching the spreading black puddle with alarm.

“It’ll creep up here eventually,” muttered Monkhbayar.

“Yeah, and now we’re trapped,” agreed Tümen.

“Alright, enough of that,” snapped Khasar. “We need some ideas about how to get out of here.

“Spread out and look around. See if there’s anything useful here.

“Jargal, Davaajav, keep an eye on that staircase and shout if it starts climbing up here.”

There was nothing of much use in any of the rooms, but there was another flight of stairs, up into the minaret.

Khasar and Monkhbayar climbed the stairs, and looked in the first room on the way up... there was a shelf with small balls in a row... he picked one up and hefted it.

Heavy, but not a gem or precious metal. Some sacred object?

“Bagatur!”

A shout from below.

He tossed the ball back on the shelf and stepped back onto the stairs. He carried the only torch, leaving Monkhbayar in the dark for a moment.

“It’s climbing the stairs, Bagatur! Burn it?”

“No, not yet!” he called back, then turned at Monkhbayar’s voice from the room.

“Bagatur, that ball... it’s glowing!”

He ducked back into the room, and the ball was as bright as a torch, the light of the same torch he had carried in his hand! His sweat had activated it!

“Sunstones!”

Monkhbayar stared at them in awe.

“I’ve never seen one before...”

“Grab as many as you can, Monkhbayar,” he ordered, pulling off his own ruck and cramming in one after another.

She followed suit, and between them they packed away several dozen spheres.

“Time to go!”

They descended the stairs again... the blackness was slowly oozing up the staircase toward them.

“Out the window?” suggested Chaghatai. “We don’t have a lot of options...”

“We have enough rope,” agreed Khasar, looking out the window toward the road below. “It looks clear on this side; damn things must all be squeezing in through the door.

“Elbek, you’re the lightest, I think. You first.”

Elbek, one of the archers, nodded and climbed into the window. He dropped the rope out and slithered down.

“Somebody, find a long piece of wood or something to anchor this rope to,” ordered Khasar, “or the last one will have to jump.”

They found a piece of wood that would serve the purpose, and tied the rope to it. It was too long to be pulled through the window easily, and served as an anchor.

“Next! Keep moving!” ordered the Bagatur, waving them on.

“Bagatur! It’s coming round toward us!” came a shout from below.

“Damn!” Khasar thought furiously. “Elbek! Take the rope and climb up that building over there, on the other side of the road. We’ll have to swing over!”

There were three troopers safely down the rope now, but the black film was approaching fast.

Elbek and the others raced for the building, pulling the rope with them.

Elbek handed it up to Jochi, who had jumped up onto the roof, then joined him to help secure the end. It was taut in a minute, and the first trooper began to swing over from the minaret.

The black film swirled below, searching, but it had no eyes.

“The lizards! We can’t leave them!” cried Tümen.

“Can you carry them?”

“I will!” she answered, and draped one over her shoulders, tying its front legs together with her rope so it wouldn’t fall off. She began to swing across the road.

Behind her, Mönkhbat began tying her own sand lizard up the same way.

“Let’s get a move on, people! That black goo isn’t going to wait!”

They swung across, one after another.

The Bagatur was the last one out.

As he swung across hand over hand, he looked down at the pool of blackness rippling below... it hadn’t noticed them yet, apparently, and was still sending tendrils here and there, searching.

His eyes widened... was that?

He swung faster, but his eyes staying fixed on the middle of the blackness, where slowly, one tiny piece at a time, a human head was rising out of the puddle.

The black liquid couldn’t be more than a few centimeters deep at best, but he could already see the forehead, and the face gradually rose out of the slime, tiny tentacles writhing over its surface, building it in cell by cell.

That face... it looked familiar.

The scar over the eye! It was...!

The head rose higher, and the eye sockets and cheekbones appeared, revealing what was unmistakably Narmandakh. Her face was an oily black, eyes pools of dark ink seeking light.

And she would be able to see him!

Hanging by one hand, he yanked out his last flask of thalassion and dropped it, missing the growing head but close enough to splash it with naphtha... and tipped a coal out of his firebox.

The flames shot up so high that he could feel the warmth on his legs, and he hurriedly pulled himself across the rest of the way, until they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

And not a moment too soon, as the black goo began to seep along the rope from the minaret in relentless pursuit.

Khasar slashed the rope, the severed end dropping into the roadway and the flames.

“Now let’s get the hell out of here!”

They leapt from the roof to the overgrown garden in back of the building, on the side opposite the minaret, and ran for their lives.

“The tunnel is that way,” shouted Khasar, waving off to the right. “If the lizards can’t keep up, leave them!”

They raced down a narrow road flanked on both sides by smaller, lower buildings, heading for the edge of the city and the tunnel out.

“Bagatur! It’s pursuing us!” called Jochi, and Khasar slowed a little to look.

The road behind them was steadily turning black, like a tide coming in. It was moving almost as fast as they were running.

Mönkhbat stopped, turned, and picked up his sand lizard. It had collapsed, obviously winded, tongue hanging out.

“I got you, Tochi! just hang on to me!” he said, draping the lizard over his back, then starting to run again, one hand reaching behind to keep the lizard from slipping off.

“Leave it, Mönkhbat!”

“I can’t! Never!”

They kept running, until Mönkhbat stumbled.

He stretched his hands out to catch himself, but the sand lizard fell free, lying dazed for a moment... and it only took a moment.

The blackness swarmed up one leg, then the body, and the lizard melted away, leaving nothing but a single piteous scream.

“No!”

Mönkhbat froze, still lying on the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from the death of the beloved sand lizard he had raised from an egg.

And the blackness claimed him.

A single tendril crept onto his hand, and he screamed in pain, flailing wildly, trying to shake it off, his hand melting as he watched.

A second tendril grabbed his leg, pulling him down into the shallow liquid, an inky film that spread to quickly cover his body, then face, mercifully blotting out his agony.

“Keep running you idiots!” shouted Khasar. “He’s dead. Go!”

The blackness slowed a bit, as if digesting its latest meal, and they were out of the city, and up the steps into the tunnel itself. They paused only as long as it took to light a torch, then broke into a run again, lighting other torches from the first as they ran.

They continued their mad dash until the tunnel narrowed down, where Khasar halted them. They fell to the tunnel floor, muscles aching, out of breath. Tümen’s sand lizard, which had somehow managed to keep up, collapsed next to them.

“Who has those grenades?” he panted.

Chaghatai, Elbek, and Jochi had two each.

“I’m going to blow the tunnel here, where it’s narrow. Any way we can mount them on the ceiling?"

The tunnel was built of the same white stone, fitted together so carefully it was hard to see the cracks between blocks. Featureless, with no way to hold the grenades in place.

“The lizards’ food!” cried Tümen. “Add a little water and it’s like mud!”

“Will it stick to the ceiling?”

“No, but it’ll hold the grenades in place, and help direct the blast.”

“Quickly! All the food—our own food, too—everything we don’t need. Set the grenades along this wall, here. Short fuse. Stack them, and cover them up to hold them in place.”

They quickly mixed up the lizard food and slopped it onto the grenades, then piled their own food and full waterskins on top.

“It’s reached the steps,” called Jargal. “About time to go.”

“OK, up the tunnel,” ordered the Bagatur. “Chagatai, light it.”

Making sure the fuse was burning, Chagatai followed the others as they ran up the gradual incline of the tunnel, away from the damned city and toward the surface.

The explosion knocked them off their feet, and they felt the ground shake.

Khasar picked himself up and walked back towards the city, holding his torch up high.

“It’s blocked completely, looks like... the whole roof collapsed, and I don’t think the grenades were this close... a whole section of the roof must have caved in.”

The others approached, searching for black liquid seeping under the rockfall.

“Don’t see anything... anyone?”

Nobody did.

“Well,” said the Bagatur, sitting down and watching the barrier, “maybe we’ll just rest a bit.”

Everyone agreed, and a few canteens appeared to be passed around.

Khasar didn’t even raise an eyebrow when it turned out that Davaajav’s was full of wine instead of water.

They sat in silence until one of the torches suddenly fell over, startling everyone and triggering a nervous laugh.

Monkhbayar reached into her ruck and pulled out a brilliant sunstone, setting it down on the ground.

“Torches are pretty smelly, don’t you think?”

They rested for about an hour, and then started the long walk back to the fort.

Chapter 6

Flogdreka’s wing looked healed. It was the same size as the other, and when he stretched it grew taut, veins pulsating with life, as if eager to take to the skies.

After the stretch, though, Flogdreka folded his wings up neatly again and lay his head down, staring at the snows of the distant peaks. He still rumbled, deep inside, when Beorhtwig scratched between his eyes, or scrubbed his scales clean with pine branches.

He sniffed at fresh goat meat, or beef, and sometimes ate a mouthful, as if to humor the wyver-master.

No matter how he tried, Beorhtwig could not break through the wyvern’s apparent depression. Already Flogdreka was alarmingly gaunt, thinned by lack of food and whatever was bothering him. He was unquestionably hot, in spite of the set of bamboo pipes he’d rigged up to redirect part of the stream into a constant flow of cold water run over the wyvern’s body, but not so hot it would make him sick. It must be a mental issue, he was sure.

Running his hand down the wyvern’s flank once again, Beorhtwig made up his mind... today, Flogdreka would fly.

He looked up at the Mohaggers again... there was plenty of snow on the high peaks, and he was sure that if he could just get Flogdreka to get up that high, the freezing air would invigorate him.

First, though, he needed to check something with the aercaptain, de Palma.

The Cavor was still at the fort, probably getting ready to leave on its mapmaking flight for the day, so he walked over to the church, where the airship was still tethered to the belltower. De Palma was still downstairs talking to Captain Ridhi and Valda Sigridsdóttir.

When they were done, he approached the captain.

“Aercaptain de Palma? Do you have a second?”

The sergeant turned.

“Trooper Beorhtwig, of course! We’re just about to leave.”

“I wanted to ask you about the three wyverns that day... I’ve looked at the body, and the one you killed was a male—it had horns and a short, stubby tail—and my wyvern is a male, but did you notice whether the one that got away was male or female?”

“Uh... let me think... everything happened so fast...”

He looked at the ceiling for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m pretty sure it was a female. I don’t know about the horns, but I think the tail was quite long.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Let’s ask the crew; maybe they got a better look.”

He walked over to the stairs into the belltower and called up.

“Hey, Tomás! C’mere a minute!”

“Yo!” came a shout from above, and shortly a crewmember can down.

“Do you recall if the wyvern that got away was a male or a female? I think female, but I’m not sure...”

“Yup, that was a female, alright. Remember, her tail damn near took the pennant off.”

“It did?” exclaimed de Palma. “I never saw that!”

“You were at the helm; I was in the stern.”

“Huh. Glad it missed us! But you’re sure it was a female?”

“Must have been as long as her wings. Yup, female, alright.”

Beorhtwig grinned.

“Thank you, Aercaptain, Trooper Tomás. That’s the best news I’ve had in weeks!”

So that must have been Flogdreka’s mate, he figured... Thuba Mleen couldn’t have that many wyverns around; they weren’t easy to find, or tame.

“One more quick question... you’ve mapped much of the Mohaggers already, right?”

“We’re working outwards, but yes, most of it. We’re staying away from the area around Tsol, and the fortress at Bleth, for safety, though.”

“Have you seen signs of an encampment on any of the snowcaps?”

“An encampment!? Up that high?” He laughed. “Not likely!”

“We did see smoke once, though,” mused Tomás, “up on Mt. Thartis, remember?”

The captain nodded.

“Now that you mention it... we joked about a volcano in the Mohaggers! Never saw it again, but there was something there that one time...”

“Mt. Thartis... thank you.”

“Why did you want to know?”

“I think I’m going to take my wyvern out there for a little visit,” said Beorhtwig. “If I’m right, the one that got away was his mate, and she’s staying up on that peak where it’s nice and cold.”

“It’s cold, all right,” agreed de Palma. “We’ve caught sight of the wyvern a few times, far away, but it’s possible. The Mohaggers are the only place around here with snow...”

“Thank you, Aercaptain. Safe flight!”

“Safe flight, Trooper Beorhtwig.”

Next stop... the kitchen.

“Captain Ridhi,” he called from the doorway. He was smart enough not to walk into her kitchen when they were cooking.

She handed a pot of something to a waiting man and turned to see who it was.

“Trooper Beorhtwig. What is it?”

“I know you’re busy, but I have a favor to ask...”

“Yes, I’m busy. What?”

“Liver. Raw liver. I think the wyvern’s going to die if I can’t get him back into the air, and raw liver should do the trick.”

“Do I look like I have raw liver lying about?” She turned back to her staff, waving her hand at someone to summon them. “They’re slaughtering a cow now; go ask them.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, but she was already talking to the woman she’d called over.

The barn, and the yard where they slaughtered cattle and chickens, was at the other end of the fort, on the cliff side. He walked back and found them cutting up the carcass.

“Mind if I take the liver? Captain Ridhi said I should ask you...”

“Sure, help yourself,” said one of the bloody workers. “In that bucket there.”

He did.

It was six, maybe seven kilograms... heavy for him to lug back to the wyvern, but a tiny mouthful for Flogdreka. He’d heard that it was one of the foods they loved more than anything else, though, and it was worth a try. He cut it into small chunks.

He almost whistled as he walked back toward his wyvern, carrying the liver in the wooden bucket he’d borrowed

The postern was all finished, along with its flanking towers. It was open, of course, but two of Nadeen’s twelve were there on guard duty. They had lookouts posted along the walls, and the underbrush had been cut back quite a ways from the fort, so it would be extremely difficult for anyone to approach unseen, especially in daylight. Still, Nadeen made sure guards were posted and alert, and after the recent battle nobody complained.

Flogdreka was still lying there, and looked like he hadn’t moved.

Beorhtwig debated rigging up the saddle, and finally decided not to... he’d do it the old way, looping ropes under the belly and around the wings to hold himself in place. It was more dangerous, of course, but it was a lot faster, and lighter for the wyvern.

Getting Flogdreka to fly again was the most important thing; he could worry about the saddle later.

It was tough getting the ropes under the wyvern’s bulk, but after a few well-aimed kicks the wyvern sighed and moved enough to let him pass the ropes through.

He tied them into position, and clambered up with the covered bucket. Tied himself into position. Opened the bucket and pulled out a piece of liver, waving it in the air and whistling.

Flogdreka’s head turned, and one eye opened to see if he was really holding what it smelled like... it was, and for the first time in weeks, Flogdreka’s tongue snapped out, rasping across his palm and devouring the liver.

“You want more, you have to fly for it,” he said, and threw a piece into the air.

Flogdreka’s neck sprang out, catching the bloody gobbet before it hit the ground. He rose to his feet, shook himself, and twisted his head back to look at Beorhtwig again. Rumbled somewhere deep inside, darted his tongue out a few times to catch the scent, and nuzzled his hand.

Beorhtwig threw another piece into the air, farther away this time.

Flogdreka jumped forward, missing it but snapping it up from the ground instantly.

Beorhtwig kicked his heels, “Fly!”

And the wyvern, well trained by Thuba Mleen, followed his command, running a few paces while his enormous wings beat up and down, throwing Beorhtwig back and forth, until he finally, heavily, soared into the air...

“Yes! Fly, Flogdreka, fly!” he screamed in joy, and threw another piece of liver into the air.

Flogdreka gave a piercing shriek and twisted, snatching it from the air, then folding his wings up and bulleting toward the forest below, only to snap them out with a bang and level off, just skimming the treetops.

He pumped his wings, soaring up, up, until Beorhtwig could see the fort tiny below.

He threw more pieces of liver, and watched Flogdreka come back to life, the freezing air invigorating them both.

The fire was back in his eyes.

“Now, Flogdreka, now we go find your mate!”

He tugged on the reins and kicked his heels, turning the wyvern toward the distant snowcap of Mt. Thartis.

Flogdreka soared, wings outstretched and almost motionless, riding the air currents. The unbelievable silence of the flight—only the whisper of the wind—brought back memories of Beorhtwig’s father, taking him up for rides when he was but a young boy.

And now he was a wyver-master!

Flogdreka shrieked again, and Beorhtwig looked ahead, toward the approaching peak.

Another wyvern was rising to meet them.

Long tail... a female.

Was it Flogdreka’s mate?

It was also carrying a rider, he saw. One of Thuba Mleen’s fighters.

He had no bow, no mail or shield, nothing but his sword...

Flogdreka suddenly broke off, twisting away from the oncoming wyvern. He must have recognized her.

He screamed again, and she answered, but her rider forced her to pursue, coming to the attack.

He had a bow.

The wyverns were almost immune to arrow unless the archer was extremely powerful or lucky, but riders were only human.

Beorhtwig used every trick in the book to hide, lying flat on the wyvern’s back, or twisting to slip down onto its flank, keeping its bulk between himself and the archer.

He had an idea, but would it work...?

The next time the female approached, he stopped Flogdreka from breaking off, and instead twisted him at the last moment, flying up under the other, belly to belly. As he’d hoped, their claws grappled for an instant, either in combat or reliving a memory of their own mating flight, when wyverns would dance across the sky, often linking claws to fly as one, twisting and spiraling through the air.

The lifeline secure about his waist, he leapt for the other wyvern, dagger ready.

He grabbed its saddle cinch, and slashed furiously. Leather cord dropped, cut though, and the cinch began to slip.

He let go, grasping the rope that might save him, ready to die for Flogdreka if he must.

A sudden jerk, searing pain as the rope was yanked through his hands by his own falling weight, and then Flogdreka was there, lifting him up neatly on his back, banking back, and up, and he twisted his head to look at the other wyvern.

The rider, caught unprepared when his saddle was cut loose, was gone, saddle and all... the reins flapped empty in the wind, and the wyvern was pumping her wings, heading straight for them!

Flogdreka spun in the air, somehow, twisting up and over, and they crashed together. Shrieks and screams split the air, and he felt the muscles of Flogdreka’s back tense and bulge.

Were they...?

No!

Talons interlocked, they spun in the air, necks intertwined as they greeted one another, their shrieks gentling down into rumbles and coos.

He pulled gently on the reins, and Flogdreka broke off, gliding in circles that slowly returned to Fort Danryce.

She followed, and a few minutes later all three of them were safe on the fields in front of the fort.

Beorhtwig hopped off, leaving the two of them alone, and ran back to get more liver for the reunited pair: Flogdreka and his mate, who he named Fæger, the fair.

Chapter 7

The meeting room was brightly lit, quite a change from the usual oil lamps... the sunstone Bagatur Khasar had brought back made an enormous difference. Mintran had worked up a cage for it, to make it easier to mount on a wall or ceiling and simultaneously harder to steal.

You could buy a ship or two with one sunstone, and the dozens they’d brought back were top secret for now. Their rarity made them enormously valuable, and Jake didn’t want any to mysteriously disappear.

“We need more information on Bleth,” said Jake, sipping his cabbage juice and grimacing. He wondered if he’d ever be able to chug down a cold ale again.

“Now that all of their wyverns are gone, and it looks like they don’t have another airship, I’ve asked Aercaptain de Palma to swing closer and try to get us some good maps from the air. We really need to see what it looks like on the ground, though... you can hide too many things from aerial observation.

“Speaking of wyverns... Beorhtwig did one hell of a job, Seri, but he’s spending all his time with them now, and you’ve got a hole in your twelve.”

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that,” said Captain Serilarinna. “I wouldn’t mind having a wyvern attached to my twelve, but to be honest I don’t really know what I’d use it for, other than scouting. For now I’d rather have a full twelve.”

“It’s a common problem with special weapons... we have one airship and two wyverns, and they’re all basically irreplaceable. If we don’t use them they’re entirely wasted, but if we do use them there’s a chance they may be destroyed, and we couldn’t use them some day when we really needed them.

“As Beorhtwig demonstrated, it’s not impossible to steal a wyvern, either, although everybody tells me it’ll never happen again and shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“I would like to let my archers practice shooting from the wyverns, if it’s possible,” said Captain Ekene. The warrior was from Zar, and the contrast between his near-black skin and the bright purple cord wrapped around his pigtail was eye-watering. “We’ve practiced shooting from horseback, but a wyvern would be even faster, and the wings would be constantly in the way. It’ll be a very different challenge.”

Captain Long nodded in agreement.

“It could prove a handy skill,” he said. “If we’d had wyvern-borne archers in the battle they would have been invaluable.”

“We’d have to work up some sort of armor for the wyvern’s belly, though. I’ve heard of such a thing but never seen it,...” mused Nadeen. “We have a couple troopers from Lomar and Zobna, right? I know Ginette is from Daikos... she may know more.”

“Aymeric, in my six, is from Daikos, too. I’ll ask him later.”

“Good. Likewise for the rest of you: see if anyone has any more information,” directed Jake. “And Captain Ekene, I agree, your archers should get training if it’s possible. Still, these wyverns have only been flying with a single rider, and I don’t know how well they can handle the weight of two.”

“Another point to look into,” agreed Ekene. “I’ll talk to Beorhtwig and find out.”

“In any case, Bleth,” said Jake, pulling the conversation back on topic. “I want to know more about it: who’s in command, what forces are based there, what defenses it has, food and water supplies, how and how often it communicates with other units, everything. And we can’t get it from the air.

“So what do we need to scout it properly?”

“We know they’ve got patrols in the Mohaggers, too, so either a very small force that might be able to slip through undetected, or a larger force able to defend itself if it does meet a patrol. We wouldn’t want to run into anything bigger than a patrol, though,” said Seri.

“If you want to stay mobile but still be able to handle patrols, take the raptors,” suggested Captain Chinh. “Now that Mudge has taken over, they’re downright dangerous.”

“Mudge? Who’s Mudge?” asked Bagatur Khasar.

“One of the smart raptors who came with Cornelia,” said Nadeen. “She’s made a new brood of herself and the six raptors that came with the archers, with herself as queen. Between the training they got before and the training she’s put them through since, they can probably take out a scouting patrol by themselves with few or no losses.”

“But pretty much all fighters know how to deal with a raptor, don’t they?” asked the Bagatur.

“Yes, but these aren’t just raptors anymore,” she explained. “They fight as a group, with tactics designed especially for armed opponents. They can do a lot of surprising things under Mudge’s control.”

“Interesting... I had no idea they’d reached that level,” said Khasar. “We train our lizards very well, of course, but I’ve never heard of a lizard giving orders to other lizards...”

“Just imagine what a full twelve of intelligent raptors could do,” said Jake, smiling. “And the best part of it is that we have them all.”

“OK, so raptors, then,” said Seri. “They’d be unlikely to raise an alarm even if they were seen, as long as they are unarmored. Everyone would just assume they were wild.”

“Would they?” asked Nadeen. “I don’t think anyone here at the fort knows we’ve got intelligent raptors, except for us, but you know what they say about secrets.”

Everyone nodded.

“The word will get out eventually, no doubt about it,” admitted Jake. “But even if they do know we’ve got smart raptors, could they do anything about it?”

“They’d certainly change their tactics when fighting,” mused Chinh. “But how?”

Seri shrugged.

“I guess we’ll find out one way or another,” she said. “So assume we take the six—no, seven, with Mudge—raptors with us. They can forage for themselves, so we don’t need to carry any food for them.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘we,’ Captain?” asked Jake with a smile.

“Obviously this is something my twelve would be best at,” she replied with a straight face. “Sergeant TiTi’s been training us for exactly this, stealth recon and whatnot.”

“But we are far more familiar with Thuba Mleen’s fighters,” said Bagatur Khasar. “We’ve been fighting him for years.”

“You’re still down two people, Bagatur,” said Jake, shaking his head. “And I think your twelve needs a little more time to recover and break in new troopers before you’re ready to go back out in the field again.”

“Trooper Yargui will be with us, Bagatur,” said Seri. “We can handle it.”

“So you’re thinking of your full twelve plus the raptors, then?” asked Jake.

“Yes, unless there’s a better idea. Anyone?”

Silence.

“Thuba Mleen’s patrols are almost always between ten and twenty people, usually ten or twelve, and of those only half or maybe two-thirds have any real combat experience. A dozen troopers plus seven raptors should be ample,” she added.

“Why not have the wyverns check out your route in advance, maybe see what surprises might be waiting,” suggested Nadeen. “If nothing else they can get the enemy looking up at the sky and not down at you.”

“Excellent idea, thank you,” said Jake. “And the Cavor might as well do some mapping around there, too... we have to do it eventually, and they might assume the wyverns were just there to protect the airship.”

“Are we really sure they don’t have another airship? Or more wyverns?” asked Long. “Having freedom of the sky would be great, but I just can’t believe Thuba Mleen doesn’t have something we don’t know about.”

“Nobody’s seen anything except that wyvern Beorhtwig brought back... What was its name? Figger or something?”

“Fæger,” said Ridhi. “Apparently it means beautiful in their tongue.”

Jake shrugged.

“Whatever. They’re impressive, but I have trouble classifying anything with scales as beautiful.

“Anyway, we don’t know. We don’t think so, but like you said... Thuba Mleen’s got a lot of resources to draw on.”

“When do you want us to go?”

“As soon as you’re ready. The fort’s coming along nicely, and everyone’s back on standard training and patrol schedules; now’s the time.

“Captain Chinh, work with Captain Serilarinna and make sure the raptors are ready to go.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“What do you think, Seri? Day after tomorrow?”

“That should be fine. I’ll get the word out today and let them play tonight. We’ll be ready.”

“What about Beorhtwig? You don’t really have time to fill his slot with anyone new.”

“I want him flying for support,” said Seri. “I’ll fill up the twelve later, after we get back.”

“Everyone, this stays secret for now. Nobody else knows about this,” nodded Jake. “Anything else?”

Captain Ridhi cleared her throat.

“Just a few updates,” she said. “First of all, that tunnel under the church has been filled in all the way down to where the Bagatur collapsed it. No sign of anything untoward. It’s packed with sand, rocks, and cement now, and even black slime is going to have a tough time getting through all that.”

Khasar clenched his teeth.

“I’ll be checking that regularly in any case, I think. We really need something better than just cement to keep Nyogtha out.”

“Agreed,” said Jake. “We still don’t know if that’s how it got to the horses or not.

“But I don’t know of anything else we can do... Even Godsworn Rorkaln doesn’t have any suggestions. Chuang said he’d do a little research at the library, and look in those metal plates we found.”

“The other big issue is the castle town we’ve got growing here,” she continued. “At first just some of the stable hands and the butcher put up shacks to be closer to the fort, but there have been more and more of them lately, mostly either homes for people working here, or establishments designed to separate troopers from their money.

“And it’s getting out of hand.”

“In what way?”

“I think you’ve all heard the ruckus down there every night, but there have been a few fights already. Nobody stabbed or killed yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“A small whorehouse has just opened, too, right next to the tavern. There have always been ‘warriors of the evening’ around the fort, but just individuals until now. A whorehouse is a different proposition, so to speak, and comes with its own problems.”

“Doesn’t sound like our problem,” mused Chinh. “Lots of taverns and whorehouses, among other things, in Celephaïs, and we rarely had a problem with them.”

“Exactly. Because there were lots of them, and things had settled down into a regular routine that kept everybody happy without getting the city guard too excited,” said Ridhi. “It’s all new here, and everybody wants that money without understanding now things are supposed to work.”

“It’s getting dirty and smelly down there, too,” added Long. “The stream from the fort is pretty dirty to start with, and by the time it runs through that ‘village,’ if that’s what it is, it’s filthy.”

Nadeen drummed her fingers on the table.

“Is anyone in charge down there yet?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Ridhi. “But it won’t take long for them to start fighting about who runs things.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” said Nadeen. “If it was a single boss we could just deal with them, but it could get messy until someone wins out.”

“So what are our options? I think we can shut the village down entirely, which will upset a lot of our troopers and make everyone in Cadharna into enemies,” said Jake, counting on his fingers. “We can police the place ourselves, which will make everyone hate us for acting like the guard. We can set up our own boss to run things, which will keep things quiet as long as they make money. Or we can just ignore anything that happens outside these walls.”

 Captain Chinh sipped his tea, staring at the ceiling, and spoke quietly: “You know, we could also build the temples to Nath-Horthath and Panakeia right there. Let the Godsworn make it clear that their Gods would take it as a personal affront if the area were dirty, or dangerous. Cadharna is happy as hell to be getting temples out here, so why not let them worry about it themselves?”

Jake smacked the table with his fist, spilling his cabbage juice.

“That’s a great idea! I love it!”

Ridhi made to call for more juice, but he waved her down.

“Please, don’t. I hate that stuff. I’ll just drink water or something.”

She quieted, and he continued.

“Seriously, I like it. They’ve already been talking to the village Reeve about where to build the temples, and obviously he wants them near the village. I don’t really care about the temples, but I’d like the Healer to be close if possible,” continued Jake.

“If we build the temples here, contributing gold and labor, we can install a decent sewer system at the same time.”

“Celephaïs is a large city, but has an excellent network of sewer tunnels, and another distributing drinking water throughout the city. I don’t know much about them, but they work,” said Chinh. “Even with a village here we’d have a lot fewer people, and we could probably get by with something a lot simpler. And cheaper.”

“Pity Artificer Takatora’s already gone... he would have been the right person to ask about sewers,” said Nadeen. “He got our walls and towers up stronger than I could have ever done.”

“This is something we want to get started on before the any castle town gets settled,” said Jake. “I’ll send a dragolet off to Celephaïs today and ask them to send us an artificer who knows what to do. The Godsworn will design their own temples, but we’ll have to figure out the rest of it: streets, water, sewage—I think the right word is sewerage, not sewage, by the way—guards to keep things under control. Might have to even think about taxes, much as it pains me."

“...taxes...” signed Chinh. “It always comes down to taxes, doesn’t it?”

“Money talks,” quipped Jake. “In any case, Captain Long? Would you meet with Godsworn Rorkaln and Healer Dunchanti and see if they have any insurmountable objections? If you have to, mention that my support—gold, labor, materials—might be dependent on it. If there’s a problem I’ll join you, but I’d rather keep it as low-key as possible.”

“I’ll get on it right after this meeting.”

“Thank you.”

Captain Chinh coughed.

“Uh, something that’s been bothering me lately on patrol... Every so often we hear a thunderclap coming from the mountains. Not always in the same place, and usually only one. Have the rest of you heard them too?”

“We have,” said Khasar. “Pretty far away so we didn’t pay much attention, though... Reed’s Eye appeared in the sky once, too.”

“Reed again,” grimaced Jake. “I think you should forget about it entirely, and advise your troopers that it’s just distant thunder. Just between you and me, you are not to investigate, not to approach, and if your troopers start asking questions, make it clear it’s far away and irrelevant, is that clear?”

“Quite clear, Commander,” said Chinh, raising an eyebrow.

Khasar pursed his lips but said nothing.

“You don’t have Mintran making bigger bombs or something, do you?” asked Ridhi.

“I give you my word, and Nadeen will confirm, Mintran is not making bombs.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Nadeen. “Not now, and not before. Grenades, yes, but nothing larger.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Ridhi.

After they ran through a few more trivial matters the meeting broke up and the captains returned to their twelves.

Jake wrote a letter to Master Chuang explaining the castle town idea and requesting the loan of an artisan skilled in planning and construction, and asked Ridhi to send it off by dragolet. He should get a reply in two days or so.

Captain Serilarinna walked over to the barracks.

Beghara’s twelve was out on patrol, and Nadeen’s up on the wall, but the rest of the company was either here—in the barracks or the adjoining bath and lounge—or down in the brothel.

“Sergeant TiTi!”

He popped out of the lounge at her call.

“Captain?”

“Step outside and go for a walk with me, Sergeant.”

He did, and they walked over toward the stairs to the cliff wall.

Seri nodded to the trooper on guard up on the wall, and he moved away so she could speak with TT privately.

“What’s up, Captain?”

“Pass the word around, Sergeant. We’re going on a long patrol the day after tomorrow. Tell everyone to make ready.”

“Where to?”

“Nobody else knows until we’re out of the fort, Sergeant, but we’re going to go have a look at Bleth. We’ll be taking the raptors with us, and the airship and maybe wyverns will be keeping an eye on things.”

“Bleth! That’s quite a hike.”

“Yes, but hopefully we can get there, see what there is to see, and get out again without being spotted. The raptors will help. And the idea is that the airship and wyvern will get them all looking up at the sky instead of for us.

“Even if it doesn’t work out we should still get some aerial maps of Bleth and the terrain.”

“It’s supposed to be bigger and badder than Fort Danryce.”

“Yep.”

“Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get into a fight that close to Bleth.”

“Nope.”

“Do we have to keep this need-to-know until we leave? I’d really like to get use the new camo gear if we can.”

“Need to know. But I’ll be putting together a cache of special gear tomorrow, and you’re going to help me lug it up into the Mohaggers. Put the camo in with the rest of it, and we can pick it all up later.

“The troopers will carry their own food and water, just like any long patrol, but what do we need to cache? I’d like to make everyone think this is just another standard patrol, until it’s too late for anyone to let Thuba Mleen know different.”

TT rubbed his hands together.

“Oh boy, this is going to be fun... let me see. Um, camo, of course. Telescopes. Lots of rope, never know when that’ll come in handy. Pitons, probably... Any way we can get hold of a shimmer or two? I know they don’t work too well in the forest, but there are a lot of mountains between here and there when they could be useful. I figure it’d be better to not be seen at all, than just kill ’em all.”

“Me too. I can get some shimmers easily enough. How many camo tarps do you have?”

“Tarps? I think only three or four... I asked them to prioritize the camo clothing.”

“We’ll want those, even if there are only a few.”

“What about a dragolet?”

Seri thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“Too awkward to carry around, and if it ever got free it’d fly back here in an instant,” she said. “You’re thinking of how to get a message out, right?”

“Yep.”

“If we’re going to have people up in the air—wyverns and the airship—I think mirrors should work fine. Not much they can do to help us if we get into a tight spot in any case, but we’d be able to pass short messages.”

“So, assuming we see something important, we’ll need to make copies for everyone to carry, to improve the chances of someone getting the info back to the Commander. Paper and ink.”

“Paper and ink,” Seri agreed. “But that’s light enough I can just pack it myself; we don’t really have to cache it.”

“Right. I think everyone can read and write well enough, except maybe that guy from Pungar Vees, Zubeen. He’s death on wheels with his scimitar but not too imaginative.”

She grunted. “What else?”

“Open fires?”

“Good point. No fires, so no raw meat. Jerky, mashed beans, dry foods we don’t need flame for.”

“Gotcha.”

“I think that’s about it... we won’t know what else we need until we get there. And there will surely be something we wish we’d brought.”

“Always is, Sergeant, always is.”

She pointed to the raptors, now in a large corral down below.

“We’ll be taking the dumb ones under Mudge. You’ve worked with her, right?”

“Yes. I’m not real happy working next to those fangs and claws, but we can get the job done.”

“Good. The raptors are trained, but if Mudge gets killed it’ll be a lot harder to control them. Especially if there’s the smell of blood in the air.”

“I guess we’ll have to not let that happen, then,” said TT.

“Mmm. That’d be nice,” agreed Seri. “By the way, you know anything about these thunderclaps?”

“As far as I know Jake is not working on bombs, and neither in Mintran. And I suspect I’d know if they were trying to make bigger bombs, because they’d probably ask me for help.”

“Hmm, no doubt,” she agreed.

 They walked back down the stairs, TT to the barracks in search of the rest of the twelve, and Seri off to find de Palma and Beorhtwig.

Beorhtwig was in his usual place just outside the postern.

“Trooper, if you have plans for the day after tomorrow, cancel them,” she said.

“Just patrolling the area and getting to know them better,” he said. “What’s up?”

“This is strictly need-to-know for now, but for a week or so the airship will be mapping closer to Bleth, and we’ll want you to be around for back-up.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I see... and you are here telling me about it because...?”

“Well, you’re still in my twelve, after all. But yeah, there’s more. We’ll be scouting it out on the ground at the same time. The idea is to get them all looking at you and not us.”

“I haven’t seen any signs of other airships or wyverns, you know.”

“I know; nobody else has, either, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“So you want me to kill anything that comes out, then?”

“No, I want you to make sure the wyverns and the airship stay safe. How you do it is up to you, but that’s your first priority. If we get in trouble and you can help us safely, that’d be great, but saving our airpower comes first. And if we’re lucky the airship’ll get us some good maps of the area.”

“Have you talked to Aercaptain de Palma yet?”

“He’s out with Valda, but will be back tonight. I’ll fill him in on the mission then.”

“I’ll need to talk to him, too; make sure we don’t get in each other’s way.”

“You have a signal mirror?”

“Yeah. I’ll try to keep an eye out for any signals you might send, but there’s a lot of forest between here and there, and if Thuba Mleen has any surprises I might get busy real fast.”

“Don’t flash us back unless it’s critical, because it’ll alert the enemy of our presence, too.

“It should take us about a day to circle the lake on the west coast, and another three or four days through the mountains to Bleth. We’ll try to flash you every so often to let you know where we are, but it really depends on what we run into on the way.”

“I’ll be ready, Captain. We’re up flying every day already, and the wyverns love to snap up mouthfuls of mountain snow as they fly past... sort of a game for them.”

“I’ll check back tomorrow, Trooper,” she said and headed back to the main building, and the library.

There were still not very many books, but the selection of area maps was growing steadily as de Palma and Valda kept churning out new ones.

Jake had set up a system to keep track of them all, with a big map of the extended region—from Bleth and Tsol in the north to Rinar in the south, and about as wide—and divided it into a grid of smaller maps identified by letters and numbers. She checked the index map and started pulling out maps showing the west coast of the lake, and the mountains from there to Bleth.

The fringe of forest around the lake was well-mapped, and some of the Mohagger Mountains northward, but there was nothing for the area they’d have to cross to reach Bleth.

She sat down to pore over the maps they did have, checking the route and referencing the big legend hanging on the wall with all the map symbols. Pretty straightforward, at least for the maps they had... marshy ground for a few kilometers in one place, but they should be able to swing uphill to the treeline for that part. That’d expose them to any observers who happened to be in the area but so would struggling through a swamp for a couple hours... She made a mental note to see if anyone had been there before and knew the area, because that might make it possible to travel that section at night, out of sight.

She thought it unlikely, though: certainly no patrols going that far north, risking running into one of Thuba Mleen’s patrols.

They didn’t have enough troopers to easily take that sort of risk.

Still, that made her wonder why the Commander was taking this risk, sending her up there on a scouting mission... was there something else being planned? Or was he just after information?

She shrugged.

Not much she could do about it...Jake’d tell her when he wanted her to know, and he’d been pretty honest with them this far. She trusted him, and she trusted Nadeen—they’d been together a long time in Feng’s company.  

The next day her twelve prepared for a long patrol—at least a week or two, she warned them—while Seri and TT made up the loads of camo gear and a few other things, and backpacked them out to a hiding place in the mountains, with a guard provided by Mudge and the raptors.

They wanted to see how they got along with Mudge, and how she controlled the other raptors, and this would be a good opportunity to find out. They’d worked together a number of times in the fort and nearby, learning to understand each other better, and working on controlling the dumb raptors.

Mudge was smart—really smart—but they kept running into two problems. The first was that Mudge simply didn’t have enough experience to understand what Seri wanted her to do. If she provided a good explanation Mudge would get it, but in a battle there probably wouldn’t be time to explain things that clearly.

The other problem was that Seri wasn’t used to speaking with simple words, complete sentences, and precise grammar, and Mudge sometimes ended up doing something entirely different than what Seri expected simply because she didn’t say it clearly enough.

Between them they’d made good progress resolving both problems, but things still weren’t as good as they’d hoped.

The dumb raptors were well trained, and Mudge kept them under control most of the time, but if there was blood in the air they could forget their training and revert to a hunting pack. Mudge would snap and claw them back into line, but it took time.

Mudge sent three of her team up front, leading the way through the forest and checking for surprises, with herself and the other three surrounding Seri and TT. Tomorrow, when the whole twelve was on the move, there would be three each front and rear, with Mudge roaming around keeping an eye on them. The twelve would have its own front and rear guards, too, of course, but raptors were faster and more likely to detect anyone hiding, and were even farther away from the main party than the usual human guards.

They headed north through the forest, staying reasonably close to the treeline but still hidden.

Nobody wanted to go near the lake if they could avoid it... there hadn’t been any reliable reports of the green moon-creatures who worshipped Bokrug for many years, but the ruins of Ib were still easily visible to the east, reminding visitors of the doom they had brought to drowned Sarnath.

After a couple hours of hiking they deposited the pack near a rock formation they’d marked during earlier patrols, camouflaging it with brush. It only had to stay hidden for one day, and since the raptors said nobody was watching—they’d have to be very close to be able to watch through the dense woods—they were confident it would still be here in the morning.

A quick rest with cold mountain stream water, and then back to Fort Danryce.

Seri noticed that a few of the raptors had red snouts, and Mudge told her they’d had a snack... squirrels.

It would have been nice to bring a deer or two back with them, but they only had hungry raptors and no horses. She decided it would be too complicated to dress the deer here while trying to keep the raptors under control, and abandoned the idea.

They got back to camp around noon.

Seri and TT spent the rest of the day getting the twelve ready for a long patrol.

That evening when the airship returned from its map-making mission, Seri headed off to find Aercaptain de Palma. He was just coming down the bell-tower stairs with Valda.

“Aercaptain de Palma, Mistress Valda. Smooth sailing today?”

The captain looked up.

“Oh, Captain Serilarinna! Yes, thank you, beautiful weather, very clear.”

“Excellent. Your maps are superb, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Captain. It took me a while to get used to the symbols the Commodore wants, but we’re well ahead of schedule now.”

“Good,” said Seri. “Aercaptain, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course,” he replied, and told Valda he’d get back to her later to go over a few things.

After she left for the library, to begin the process of turning her sketches and notes into finished maps, Seri invited the sergeant to walk with her.

The vegetable fields looked quite healthy, and in the early evening nobody was working them. They could talk without fear of being overheard.

“Aercaptain, tomorrow I will be taking my twelve up along the west side of the lake, staying close to the mountain treeline, to the north coast, and then we’re going to cut through the Mohaggers to take a closer look at Bleth. From tomorrow the Commander wants you to begin mapping that area, the mountains north of the lake.

“In addition to making some decent maps of the area, we also hope that Thuba Mleen’s forces will spend their time watching you instead of searching for us. Beorhtwig and the two wyverns will be guarding you as well, although we haven’t seen any new enemy airships or wyverns. With luck they only had that one airship, and we’ve captured or killed all their wyverns.”

“We were very lucky that day, because they weren’t expecting us to have thalassion fire. We caught them by surprise, but that won’t happen again. If they do have more wyverns, or even a well-armed airship, we’ll be in trouble.”

“We know. And if there is any sign of danger you are to withdraw immediately. Your priority is to preserve your airship.”

“What about you?”

“We’ll mirror-flash you when we can to let you know where we are, but don’t respond unless it’s something we need to know. Any flash you make will alert Thuba Mleen that we’re in the mountains, and they’ll come looking.”

“Right. Is this all secret?”

“Yes. As far as anyone else knows we’re just out on a usual long patrol.”

“What about my crew? And Valda Sigridsdóttir?

“They don’t need to know.”

He nodded.

“Anything else?”

“If necessary we might want you to pick us up. I don’t expect it to happen, and I won’t put your airship in danger, but keep it in mind.”

“Your twelve?”

“A little more than twelve.”

“Also secret.”

“Yes, sorry. Need-to-know.”

“How long is the mission?”

“That’ll depend on what happens. It should be four or five days to Bleth, but after that who knows? I’d expect a day or two there and then back again, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“That’s a pretty big area to map, even if we concentrate on the parts between the Lake of Sarnath and Bleth. Plus which, it’s very rugged terrain with a lot of high peaks, which complicates things. There isn’t much forest, so we can see the terrain fairly clearly, but there are a lot of updrafts and crosswinds that can bounce us around a lot if we’re not careful... we could spend weeks up there and still not finish mapping properly.”

“Excellent! So it won’t be at all unusual for you to be there days in a row!”

“Well, no, but my point is that it’s dangerous.”

“No raptors and no swordfights up where you are, Aercaptain,” said Seri, ignoring his complaint. “From tomorrow, then.”

She left him amid the carrots and walked back to the barracks.

 

* * *

 

They left shortly after dawn, on foot, and headed north along the same route they’d traversed the previous day.

The raptors indicated there was nobody hiding in the trees, and the twelve made good time, reaching the cache in about the same time it had taken Seri and TT the day before.

“We’re going to take a little rest here,” announced Seri, leaning her pack against a tree trunk and walking over to the pile of branches. TT joined her, and together they pulled out the supplies they’d hidden the day before.

“OK, listen up,” she said, pulling out the camo clothing. “We’re going on a long patrol, maybe a week or two, but this one will be a little different. We’re gonna have a look at Bleth.”

There was a murmur of surprise.

“Yeah, I know. Bleth is full of all sorts of bad news, and I want to avoid all of it,” she continued. “We’ve been training in scouting and intelligence gathering, and that’s what we’re going for. I don’t want to even see any of Thuba Mleen’s troops, let alone fight them... our job is to get there, look around long enough to get a good idea of the defenses and what troops are based there, and then get the hell out again.

“That means if we run into some of Thuba Mleen’s troops, they don’t get away. We want to keep this trip our little secret.”

She outlined the route they planned to take.

“From here on out leave as little trace as possible... no trail blazes, no damn fires. That means cold food, and if you get chilly easily now’s the time to find a nice warm buddy to snuggle up with. I hear raptors are a few degrees warmer than people, so you might wanna keep a few pieces of meat to make a friend for those cold nights.”

There was brief chuckling from the twelve.

“The airship and the wyverns will be up over us somewhere, but their mission is to continue mapping, while attracting the attention of enemy forces. We don’t know if they have any more fliers or not, but hopefully if there are any they’ll go bother our airship and not look for us.”

“Can they fly us out if we need it?”

“We have signal mirrors, and in theory it’s possible, but if we need to be flown out in a hurry, it’s probably gonna be too dangerous to land and pick us up... their top priority is staying alive, not rescuing us.”

“Figures...”

“Yeah, I heard you, Zubeen,” said TT. “Suck it up.”

“Trooper Kareem, we’ll be depending on your knowledge of the area around Bleth. We saw the rough maps you drew, of course, but the map is not the terrain.”

“You’re not taking the same route I used, then?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s almost certainly watched. We’ll stay in the forest as long as possible, then cut due north from the north end of the lake. Have to find a new route.”

“Can the airship help with that?”

“They won’t contact us unless it’s an emergency,” she replied. “But we can mirror-flash them, for what it’s worth.

“One more thing... along with the camo tunics, each of you is also getting a telescope, and a pouch with pen and paper. Some of you aren’t very good with writing yet, but our mission is to bring back intelligence on Bleth. Make notes, sketches, everything you see and hear. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to copy all that information and distribute it before we start back, so even if we do get caught in a fight somebody can carry it back to the fort.

“Our top priority is to get that intel. Got it?”

There was a quiet chorus of yeses and nods.

“OK, get your camo on and let’s get moving. We’ll stay in the forest all day today, and hopefully can reach the northern edge before sundown. We’ll camp there and get into the mountains predawn tomorrow.”

She stripped down, put on the camouflaged tunic, and then strapped her battle harness back on. TT noticed that this time she had two bandoleers of throwing knives, instead of the usual one.

“We’ll move in threes. Ndidi, Aashika, you’re with me on point. Yargui, take the second three with Chiemeka and Aymeric. Keep within visual distance of the groups in front and behind you, if you can. If we get split up, head north and wait one night. Hopefully the raptors can find anyone who gets split off. Sergeant TiTi, you’re only a five, so stick together as rearguard. Any questions?”

There were none, and they moved out, Mudge in the front with Seri and the other raptors spread out in a wide arc across their direction of travel.

They were all experienced and made very little noise moving through the woods, especially with a thick carpet of pine needles underfoot. The pine trees had been here, untouched, for centuries, Seri thought, and had choked out most of the underbrush, but fallen trees, ravines cut by mountain streams, boulders of all shapes and sizes, and other diverse obstacles made it difficult to keep to a straight line, and impossible to see very far.

Fortunately, the raptors were taking care of that, she reminded herself.

They were also very quiet, as you would expect from carnivores, but every so often she could hear a quiet snarl or snapping twig as they prowled ahead. That in itself didn’t alarm her, because while they were rare in this region they were not unheard of, and nobody would be especially surprised to see one.

Hopefully they’d be even more surprised when they discovered the raptors were hunting human prey.

A sudden hiss and bark from up ahead alerted her, and she held up her hand to halt, glancing at Mudge to see what it meant.

Mudge’s head was high, body tense. She was listening, and when there was a shriek of fury from that direction, headed off at a run.

Seri saw two other raptors heading in the same direction; they probably all headed that way.

The shrieks rose in volume, and she heard something heavy thrashing about.

“Trooper, stay here. Join up with the sergeant and tell him he is to find a defensible position,” she ordered Yargui, and approached the sound of battle slowly with her two troopers. Ndidi had an arrow nocked and ready, and Aashika Chabra had a knife in each hand. She waved Aashika out to the left, and moved farther to the right, flanking the archer.

Aashika was one of the finest scouts Seri had ever worked with—all the Chabras were superlative scouts, it seemed—but Seri was raised in the jungles of Cydathria. They reached the scene at about the same time, well ahead of Ndidi, and cautiously looked down the slope into the stream.

The raptors were furiously attacking a huge snake, mottled copper and green, but with little effect. The snake’s scales were almost as tough as their talons and fangs, and it showed only a few relatively minor wounds in spite of their efforts. The snake’s head darted out once more and meter-wide jaws closed on a raptor not quite fast enough.

The raptor shrieked again as one fang punched into its chest like a spear, leaving it writhing in agony as the other raptors took advantage of the opening to attack the snake’s head, going for the eyes.

A talon flashed, gouging through the eye and tearing into the lower eyelid, dark red blood spurting from the injury.

The snake’s head twisted up to escape, tail snapping forward to bat the attacking raptors away, and the snake slithered into the earth with incredible speed, leaving hissing, bloody raptors behind.

The raptor it had bitten, presumably the one that had sounded the alarm, was gone.

One raptor gone, more hurt, and they hadn’t even contacted the enemy yet...

Mudge was already gathering the raptors, checking their wounds and trying to calm them down.

Seri gave her a few minutes, then whistled her over for an update.

None of their injuries looked very serious, but a few were in pain and that could mean an internal injury, which might worsen... they’d just have to push on and see.

She walked back to where Sergeant TT was waiting and filled him in, then it was on the move again.

When they formed up again, she put the sergeant in the lead, Yargui in the middle, and took the rearguard slot with her own three. As always, the raptors spread out ahead of them in a wide arc... they’d already successfully warned of one danger on the route, albeit at the cost of one raptor, and she was beginning to trust their senses a bit more now.

She watched them whenever she had the chance. Because they were quite a ways ahead of her she only caught glimpses, but they were prowling normally, with no obvious signs of injury. Mudge seemed to have no worries, although Seri couldn’t read raptor expressions—if they had any.

Around noon, as the temperature and humidity were rising noticeably even here in the forest, Seri figured it was time for a rest.

She whistled to alert Yargui and the Sergeant TT, and dropped her pack on the ground.

“This is a nice, quiet hill... good place to take a rest, eat something,” she said, and sat on the most comfortable-looking rock.

The rest of her twelve joined her, low conversation popping up as they relaxed.

Normally Seri would assign guards, but with the raptors in the surrounding forest she didn’t feel it was needed.  

Mudge and one other raptor squatted down with them, although Seri had no idea why—hoping for a bite of someone’s jerky, perhaps? The others were off in the forest somewhere, probably catching small things to eat. Which was fine with her, because they’d also be checking a pretty broad area for danger.

She motioned TT over to join her.

“Any problems at your end, Sergeant?”

“Nothing yet. Pretty light loads, we’re in the shade, and most of the way is carpeted in pine needles... so far it’s a walk in the park.”

“Good. How you getting along with Mudge?”

“I think OK,” he said, pursing his lips. “A while back she came up with a dead ferret and offered it to me. Looked like a fresh kill.”

“And? You take it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have a clue what to do, so I just sniffed it and handed it back to her. Don’t know if that was the right thing to do or not, but it seemed to make her happy. Swallowed the whole thing, fur and all, in two bites.”

Seri laughed.

“I think she likes you! Maybe avoid women for a while; don’t want to get her jealous!”

He grimaced.

“She’s a bit too young for me, I’m afraid. Only, what, three or something?”

“Yeah, three I think. Cute, though!”

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“You think we’ve hit the halfway mark yet?”

“I’ve been marking paces, but of course it’s mostly guesswork in the forest—we’re always veering one way or the other to get around ravines and stuff—best guess? Yeah, halfway and a little.”

“I agree, and if we keep it up we’ll reach the north edge of the forest in the Hour of the Cock, I think. Pretty much on schedule.”

TT translated in his head... the Hour of the Cock would be a two-hour span centered on 18:00, which was about what he’d figured, too.

“Yup. Barring surprises.”

“I wanted to ask you about Phaeton...”

“Captain?”

“How do you evaluate his skills, Sergeant?”

“He’s quite young, early twenties I think, but an excellent swordsman. Uses both sword and shield very well. Literate. Still overly confident in his youth and skill, though, and until someone beats it out of him he’s likely to make a few bad decisions.”

“Nothing else?”

“You want me to say he makes too much noise, right, Captain?”

“Well, I heard whistling once,” mused Seri, “and once he cursed at something—I think a tree branch must have caught him in the face or something.”

TT sighed.

“Yeah, I know. He’s a lot better than he was, but he still lets his concentration slip sometimes, forgets to watch where he’s walking. Especially on a long hike like this.”

“Is he going to improve?”

“Oh, yes, he certainly is,” nodded TT. “I’ve already had a little talk with him today, and I’ll be having another one shortly. He’s a good man to have in the twelve, Captain, just needs to stop trying to be the best one.”

“See to it, Sergeant,” she said. “See if you can’t get him to shape up before we get to Bleth, huh?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He stood and walked over to where Phaeton was resting. He had already eaten, and was sitting cross-legged on the moss, honing his shortsword.

“Phaeton? Walk with me a minute,” he said, gesturing to the other to join him. They walked away from the others, out of earshot.

“The Captain’s not happy with all the noise you’re making, trooper. You’re good with that sword, but unless you can learn to pay a little fucking attention when you’re supposed to be quiet I’ll transfer you to Nadeen’s twelve and you can guard the fucking cows all day!”

“Yessir,” replied Phaeton, having the presence of mind to at least look down in embarrassment.

“I’ve heard that Thorabon produces some very good fighters. You’re a very good fighter. But we aren’t fucking here to fucking fight, kid! We’re here to get fucking intelligence about Bleth, which is packed with enough fighters to kill us all a dozen times over! And if you keep traipsing along like you’re on a picnic they’re gonna hand you your fucking head!

“If you want to get your damn head chopped off that’s fine with me, but goddammit don’t take the rest of us with you!

“You got anything to say, trooper?”

“I’ll do better, Sergeant.”

“Damn right you’ll do better, or you’ll be walking back to the fort all by your little lonesome.”

“Yessir.”

TT stalked back to the group, the troopers watching him carefully to make sure he wasn’t coming for anyone else. Nobody had heard their conversation, but they all knew what it had been about.

A few minutes later it was time to move out again.

They policed the area, erased the obvious signs of their passage, and set out again, this time with Yargui’s three in the lead, Seri in the middle, and TT bringing up the rear.

The belt of forest around the lake was beginning to thin: the mountains were visible more often to the west, and they could see the waters of the lake every so often in the distance. The belt was thinnest at the northern extent, although still more than enough to shield them from distant observers.

Hours passed, and although they switched positions every so often, and had to change course once in a while to pass some ravine or upthrust of rock, it was quiet.

As the sun slipped behind the mountains, Seri halted.

“Take a break. Trooper Aashika, Sergeant TiTi, look around for a good place to make camp for tonight. The rest of you, don’t get too settled just yet.”

Aashika Chabra and TT slipped off into the trees and everyone else sat down, sipping water or just resting.

“Captain, there’s a stream just over there... noticed it a few minutes ago. OK to go get a refill?”

“Yeah, sure. I saw it, too. I’ll go with you, in fact... cold water would be real nice right now.”

A few other troopers joined them, enjoying ice-cold stream water from the mountains instead of the lukewarm, vinegary water in their canteens.

Seri splashed her face with it, poured a few handfuls over her head, smoothed her hair back.

TT and Aashika Chabra got back at about the same time she did, and agreed that there was an excellent spot just a few minutes’ distant. An outthrust formed a wall on one side, and it was a bit higher than the surrounding area so it wouldn’t flood in the event of rain. It had been good weather all day, but cloudy, and the chance of rain was pretty slim, everyone agreed. Still, never hurt.

It would probably even be safe to light a small fire, said TT, but Seri overruled him. All it took was a little smoke to attract undue attention and get them all killed.

They picked up their gear and moved to the new campsite, a quick walk. It was an excellent choice, but even with the raptors on guard duty, Seri wanted a human guard, too. A schedule was quickly arranged, and the first guard took up his duty while the campsite was being readied.

They didn’t want to leave any traces, so instead of a pit latrine everyone had to troop down to the nearest stream. Running water would take care of the evidence, even for almost a dozen people, and the raptors could take care of themselves.

They lashed camo tarps to convenient trees and set up a shimmer, concealing the campsite even better. While a special incense was lit next to the shimmer, it would blur an area of about a hundred meters in diameter, making it harder to see what was inside. It didn’t work well with moving objects because blurred motion is still visible as motion, but as long as they stayed out of direct sight it would be invaluable.

Seri’s twelve settled down for a dinner of beans, dried meat and fruit. They still had vegetables they’d brought with them, too, and the sound of crunching cucumbers simply couldn’t be muffled.

The last guard woke Seri up at the Hour of the Tiger—about four in the morning. The sky would be lightening soon with the coming dawn, and they hoped to be across the low scrub separating the forest from the mountains by the time the sun came up. They couldn’t hope to hide everywhere, but once they got into the mountains it would be easier than the relatively open stretch above the treeline.

Everyone was up and ready to go within about fifteen minutes. There was no need to rush, but no reason to dawdle, and since they wanted to avoid leaving signs of their presence they hadn’t erected tents in the first place.

Aashika Chabra made one last sweep of the campsite to make sure there were no obvious signs left for the enemy to spot, and then they were on their way.

The clouds had grown thicker during the night, but the eastern sky over the mountains was growing brighter, and they could see clearly enough to make good speed across the open ground. They were heading for a narrow valley leading into the Mohaggers, and their fragmentary information said it offered a path deep into the mountains.

They were safely into the mountains by the time the sun finally rose, a disc of somber orange blurred yet still bright behind the cloud cover. It was cooler today.

A mountain stream flowed through the valley, cutting a deep ravine in places, but it was still relatively easy hiking parallel to it. There were a few scattered trees, old and twisted, lots of scrawny brush, and far more boulders blocking their path.

The raptors spread out to cover the breadth of the valley floor, and the troop followed in what was almost a skirmish line, advancing at roughly the same speed, weaving around obstacles deeper into the Mohagger range.

None of the raptors detected any trace of observers, but of course someone up on a mountainside would be able to see them. They used what cover they could, but with mountains on both sides they were exposed far too often to make Seri or TT happy.

Around noon a gentle rain began to fall.

“The rain will help hide us from watchers, and wash away any tracks we make,” said Seri, “but if it starts to really pour that stream is going to be a problem.”

“Not much vegetation here to soak up rainfall,” agreed TT. “I don’t think we’d get a flash flood, but the water’s gonna rise for sure.”

“OK, let’s get everyone over the north side now, before the flood,” ordered Seri. “Pass the word, Sergeant.”

She called in Mudge and explained the need to pull all the raptors from the south bank. She couldn’t tell how much Mudge understood about floods, but she clearly understood the command, and in short order the entire troop—human and raptor—was on the north side.

There were no tall trees or caves for shelter, so they ate on their feet, trudging on through the steady rain.

It didn’t seem to bother the raptors much, but it slowed Seri’s twelve down considerably.

As visibility dropped Seri pulled the twelve closer together, keeping everyone within sight of each other. The steady, gentle rain continued unabated all morning, finally slacking off to a very fine mist in the early afternoon.

Everybody was completely soaked, but they’d stopped complaining about it, even to themselves, hours ago. The stream was a little deeper and a little more violent than before, but nothing to worry about yet, thought Seri.

The mud was more of a problem. Not only did it seriously slow them down, but troopers were slipping every so often, and eventually somebody might get hurt. Didn’t bother the raptors at all, of course.

She was especially worried about mudslides... they’d crossed a number of older slides already, irregular piles of rock and dirt that had slid down off the mountain’s slopes into the valley. If the rainfall loosened one and it slipped down onto them, it could kill them all in the flash of an eye.

With this weather and this cloud cover, they wouldn’t be able to see the wyverns or the airship, either. Or vice-versa.

By nightfall everyone was exhausted, tired of the wet and covered in mud. Seri collapsed onto a relatively clean rock, slick with rain but at least not muddy, and munched on jerky. A small mountain stream rushed past her, rainwater flowing down off the mountains into the valley.

It was enough to rinse off the mud with, bitterly cold.

With visibility this poor, she’d told everyone to put up tarps or tents to at least keep the rain off. Patches of sky could be seen here and there, and it looked like the weather was clearing up... with luck things would dry out tomorrow.

Chapter 8

Beorhtwig pulled the saddle-harness tight under Flogdreka’s belly, arms straining with the effort... still didn’t fit. Either the wyvern had gotten a lot fatter since yesterday, or he was acting up again.

He didn’t blame, him... he didn’t like flying in the rain, either, and even this light drizzle would make it almost impossible to see anything. If this cloud was thin enough it might be possible to punch through, breaking into the sunlight of the upper air, but even if they did they wouldn’t be able to see anything except the mountaintops. That’d be handy for navigation, but not much else.

Holding the belt as taut as he could with one hand, he punched upwards with the other, smacking home into the wyvern’s abdomen.

With a whuff and a small squeak, Flogdreka surrendered for a second, and that was all the time he needed to pull the saddle-harness and buckle it in place. Once the saddle was cinched around the wyvern’s belly, with belts running to both legs and another around his neck to stop it from sliding off, he was ready to go. He’d put the wyvern’s bridle on first, and didn’t need to carry anything in the panniers.

He clambered up and tied himself to the saddle, feet in the stirrups. Under normal circumstances Flogdreka would take care not to throw him off, but if they had to fight anything could happen—any responsible wyver-master used a lifeline, unlike the previous one who had ridden this wyvern.

Today he’d be flying over the west shore of the lake, and up into the Mohaggers. Aercaptain de Palma should be there, too, with his airship, but it seemed unlikely they’d be able to get much mapmaking done with the rain.

Still, making maps was only part of the reason they were heading up there.

He wondered how Captain Seri was doing in the rain, and thanked his gods once again for getting him out of the muck and onto a wyvern.

He whistled to let Fæger know they were leaving, and slapped Flogdreka’s neck, pulling back on the reins. The wyvern began to run across the fields, huge wings flapping to build up thrust, until it leapt into the air.

He bounced in his saddle as the wings pumped, jaw clamped shut to stop him from biting his own tongue off, and held onto the lifeline with both hands. He glanced to the side to see Fæger coming up behind, pacing them at a safe distance. She wore no trappings, of course, and no rider.

Behind him he could see their footprints in the field, already turning into tiny pools... and somebody had run through the vegetables. Again. Ridhi would chew him out when he got back. Again.

The ground fell away, softening into a greyish blur in the rain, and he guided Flogdreka up into the clouds... yes! The cloud gradually thinned, metamorphosing into billows and wisps floating in the sunlight, with the peaks of the Mohagger Mountains trailing off to the north.

Even as he was enjoying the sudden sunlight, Fæger broke through nearby, soaring into the clear sky like a bird, leaving lines of cloud behind her like trails in the sky, already dissipating back into nothingness. She threw back her head, shrieked her joy at the sun, and circled around Flogdreka, who answered with a shriek of his own, and they flew on northward, abreast.

 

* * *

 

Aercaptain de Palma was also unhappy to be flying in the rain.

It wasn’t a thunderstorm, and there were no sudden gusts to deal with, but the Cavor was sluggish, her sails wet and heavy. He pointed the prow upwards, aiming for the clear sky above the clouds, and watched Fort Danryce slip into gray obscurity below.

“Bridok, you got the hawser?”

Bridok, a heavyset man in his thirties, snapped the hawser to free it from where it had snagged on the opening, then pulled the rest of it aboard, coiled it, and secured it to the railing.

He walked slowly, deliberately, as any experienced crew would on a slippery, inclined deck that might shift at any moment. The deck was dotted with railings and posts, and all three crew—and the Sergeant, of course—were roped to at least one of them constantly, with carabiners. Experienced crew often elected to skip the lifelines above the clouds, where the airship would stabilize and the deck become horizontal once again. Sudden gusts could catch them by surprise, of course, but unlike the earthbound, the crew was at ease in their airborne craft.

After six years captaining the Cavor, Captain de Palma hadn’t lost a crew over the side yet, even during the Battle of Fort Danryce.

Mistress Valda was inside, out of the rain with her paper and pen, no doubt looking down through the solehole at the rain.

Another few minutes and they were out of the cloud and into the air, the morning sunlight brilliant over the undulating sea of cloud below them.

He quickly scanned the horizon—mountain peaks poking through, of course, and over there were those two wyverns, heading north.

Good, so even if nobody could see the ground at least they all managed to get out of the rain.

“Clank, Frija, get the sails unfurled and dried out so this thing stops wallowing about,” he ordered, and Clarthinny (“Clank”) and Frija started untying the sails, letting them fall wetly into place and slowly pulse with the wind.

“Broad reach, we’re heading northwest!”

The wind was blowing to the northeast, and he ordered them swing the boom out almost perpendicular to the airship’s hull. They wouldn’t even have to tack to make good time, and they’d go faster once the sails dried a bit.

The wyverns were far ahead of them now, just dots on the horizon.

He couldn’t see any other dots, so at least there weren’t any other airships or wyverns up here to fight. A nice quiet day would be wonderful. And a dry one!

“Well, since we can’t do much mapping with the rain, Mistress, I guess we’ll have to settle for positioning the peaks today. Hopefully the weather will clear up tomorrow.!”

“Compass headings and triangulation,” Valda nodded. “Where shall we start?”

“Closest one is Redhorn, where they spotted that observation post. Start there?”

“Fine,” she agreed. “If you’ll fly us over there I can get started.”

They were already flying in that direction and Mt. Redhorn was not very far as the crow flies. A few minutes later the airship slowed to a halt about a hundred meters below the top.

“Oh, nice!” exclaimed Clank, reaching out to grab a handful of snow. He balled it up and chucked it at Frija.

It missed, but earned him a quick reprimand from de Palma.

“Save it, you two! If you absolutely need to have a snowball fight, take it back with you and do it at the fort.”

Valda ignored the incident, carefully measuring the headings to all the peaks she could see clearly. She couldn’t measure distance, of course, but her theodolite made it possible to measure the headings to each peak with excellent precision. By repeating the measurements from multiple peaks, she could make a map that placed them all at the proper distances and directions from each other, and that would help enormously when it came time to make detailed maps of the terrain below.

Her theodolite was quite large and heavy, and so had been bolted to the floor of the airship to prevent it from moving—or falling off!

The airship had to be not only moored to the peak, but actually attached to it and immobile, so that the theodolite’s measurements wouldn’t be affected every time the airship bobbed or twisted in the air. This was usually accomplished by hammering pitons into the rock or ice, a job which took considerable physical strength. Bridok and Clank didn’t mind the hammering, but they often had to chip the ice off first, if they felt it wasn’t strong enough to hold the Cavor steady.

She double-checked her work, and then they were ready to go on to the next peak.

The airship repeated the process a dozen times, gradually expanding the area covered, both to improve the accuracy and in hopes that the weather might clear up.

The wyverns flew rings around the airship—literally—and seemed to be having a great time. They would fold their wings and plunge toward a peak, speeding past it at breakneck speed and snatching up a load of snow and ice in their talons, sometimes eating it, usually just letting it fall again. They challenged each other to reach the highest peaks, Flogdreka usually winning, but neither of them could reach the highest ones, soaring far, far above their maximum height. The airship might be able to fly that high, but wyverns needed relatively dense air.

Aercaptain de Palma finally gave up and let Clank and Frija throw snowballs at them, laughing with delight as they snatched them out of the air or batted one with a wing.

If they missed a snowball they would often power-dive after it, wings pumping to catch up to the falling snowball before it slipped out of sight into the clouds, shrieking with delight.

The wyver-master seemed to be having fun, too, but de Palma couldn’t understand how he could stand being thrown around the way he was...the wyverns turned and spun with incredible speed in flight. He was sure he’d be knocked unconscious, or thrown off, in minutes.

In the afternoon the clouds got a little thinner and the ground became faintly visible, but it was still not good enough for map-making.

“OK, let’s call it a day,” said de Palma some time later. “We’re obviously not going to get any detailed mapping done today, and we’re getting pretty close to Bleth. I’d rather approach their fort when the dragons are well-rested, and they’ve been flapping around up here for hours today.

“Mistress, is that OK with you?”

“Just let me finish up this set of measurements, captain, and I’ll be happy to take a rest,” she replied. “It’ll take me a couple hours to get all this down solid, and make sure we don’t have to redo any tomorrow.

“Having the peaks positioned properly will help a lot when I start making the terrain maps, though.”

“Good; glad the day wasn’t a total waste,” said de Palma. “Trooper Bridok, run up the signal flag, if you will. Call that flying maniac over so I can let him know.”

Bridok attached the signal flag indicating they needed to talk, and a few minutes later a wyvern scrunched down onto the ice-covered peak.

Beorhtwig, wearing pants and jacket made of furs, had traces of ice in his beard, but was in high spirits.

“Aercaptain! Beautiful weather, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, Trooper. Up here, at least... We’re about finished; as soon as we’re done here we’re heading back. If the weather is better tomorrow we’ll get started on more detailed maps, and may work our way closer to Bleth.”

“Sounds good, Aercaptain. Let’s talk about it later, at the fort, and make the final decision in the morn.”

“Excellent. Safe flight, Trooper!”

“Safe flight, Aercaptain!”

Beorhtwig pulled back on the reins and the wyvern pushed off, dropping into space like a stone, and suddenly spreading its wings with a boom hundreds of meters below, then shooting off into the distance, wings outstretched.

“You’ve gotta be crazy to fly one of those things,” said Clank, shaking his head.

“You’ve gotta be crazy to fly,” corrected Valda, checking that her lifeline was still secure. She’d gotten a little more used to flying but still hated it.

Chapter 9

“Come in, Godsworn Rorkaln, Healer Dunchanti, please,” urged Jake, welcoming the two into his home. He often held sensitive meetings there, or highly personal ones.

Captain Chinh was already inside, and Ridhi to personally take care of his guests’ needs.

He ushered them into this living/meeting room, where a low table was surrounded by cushions.

As soon as they sat Ridhi appeared out of the back with chilled tea and something sweet and crunchy to nibble, then promptly vanished into the back again. A fancy dinner would be served later.

Jake had made it a point to meet with them regularly, and had invited them tonight.

“How are the classes coming, Godsworn?”

“Quite well. I think almost everyone is able to read and write, but of course speed varies. Vocabulary also varies quite a bit between people, but I doubt that is terribly important.”

“I think not. Many of our troopers don’t speak common as their first language anyway, and as long as they can read and write simple messages, they should be fine.”

“Good, good... there is one, however...”

“One trooper who can’t?”

“I don’t think he’s a trooper, but yes. Roach.”

“Roach? TT’s trainee... what’s his problem?”

“He is absolutely incapable of reading or writing a single letter. He can copy a letter, and is quite a talented artist, but he has no idea what a letter is, and just copies the shape. It isn’t lack of study; he seems a remarkably intelligent young man. He simply cannot comprehend it.”

“Some sort of mental issue?”

“Well, yes, but he’s not a simpleton or anything. He can solve problems, converse, has unbelievable memory and physical abilities—all sorts of skills. He just cannot understand writing.”

“Have you tried him with other languages? What about numbers?”

“Yes. Same problem. He seems incapable of grasping the concept of written characters. Strange because he has an excellent vocabulary when he chooses to use it.”

“Strange... perhaps ask Master Chuang next time he comes?”

“Yes, I intend to, although I suspect Master Chuang is already aware of it. Roach hasn’t been to class these few days, you know.”

“Really? Strange,” said Jake. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a mental problem before.

“Nor I,” agreed Rokaln.

“Ah! I see our dinner has arrived!”

Ridhi and two of her staff appeared with the meals, along with tea, water, and ale. Jake, of course, stuck with water, but poured cups of ale for his guests.

“Just because I can’t enjoy the ale is no reason for you to refuse it,” he said, handing each of them a cup brimming with cold ale.

He picked up his own water, and held it out.

“To health and prosperity!”

“To health and prosperity!”

They all drank, and Jake promptly refilled their cups.

“This is one of Captain Ridhi’s specialties, and one of my favorites... mutton and vegetables cooked up with rice in a spicy sauce. It really goes best with ale, you know. I envy you!”

They all agreed it was delicious, and did indeed go well with ale.

They talked of various matters, nothing very important, and exchanged a few choice bits of gossip.

“How are your temples coming along?”

“We have been talking with the Reeve quite a bit lately,” said Rokaln. “He has already begun cutting the finest trees in the forest, and will built us both quite lovely wood temples in the traditional style.”

“Don’t see many traditional temples anymore. Most of the major temples are in the cities now, which means stone.”

“Wood is lovely,” said Dunchanti, “but unfortunately has both advantages and disadvantages. I confess that while I love the fragrance of pine, I am not much enamored of insect bites.”

They laughed.

“On the other hand,” said Jake, “I can attest that stonework can get mightily cold in the winter, even if there are fewer insects to bite you. It is a lot safer, though... doesn’t burn. Thuba Mleen’s raiders burned quite a few buildings in Cadharna.”

“There is that,” agreed Rokaln. “All of Nath-Horthath’s main temples are of stone—I believe yours are as well, are they not, Healer Dunchanti?”

“Yes, most.”

“The temple here is just a very small one, newborn you might say, so I cannot object.”

“You know, we plan to build sewage and water conduits in the growing ‘castle town’ below the fort,” mused Jake. “It’s already beginning to stink, and we want to build a good foundation before there are too many people and buildings there.”

“Of stone?”

“Yes, of course. The quarry has plenty of stone, and we’ve brought in a few stonecutters from Kadatheron and Toldees to cut what we need. We’re fixing up the fort already, and thought it would be a good investment. Running water, fountains, a public bath, the works.”

“You expect it to grow into a whole village?”

“As you have no doubt noticed, a number of people from the village have moved out here—villagers who work here in the fort, and people that supply us with all the things we may need, whether it be food, lumber, or arrows, for example.”

“Or women,” added Dunchanti wryly.

“That too,” agreed Jake. “Troopers need to relax, too, and ‘wine, women, and song’ has long been a military tradition.

“I see,” said Rokaln, sipping more ale. “I wonder...”

He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“You know, my colleague and I had talked about the possibility of building the temples of stone instead of wood.”

“We decided it was hopeless for a variety of reasons: time, labor, cost,” explained Dunchanti. “If you are already building water pipes and whatnot below the fort, it would be no great added effort to build the temples there, either.”

“No great effort!?” Jake snorted. “It would be an immense effort, in every sense. You just mentioned time, labor, and cost and it would demand all three, and in abundance!”

“Still,” said Rokaln slowly, “I think it might be worth the investment, having us closer to the fort...”

“You would break me!” complained Jake.

“I think our head temples might be willing to contribute some small amount to the project,” suggested Dunchanti. “Far be it from me to denigrate traditional forest temples, but stone has a certain, um, dignity, don’t you think?”

“Dignity or not, I doubt we could afford it...”

“Let us suggest the matter to our superiors, and let you know their thoughts,” said Rokaln. “And you will consider it as well?”

“I will look into it, but I confess my hopes are none too high.”

“An open mind is all we ask," said Rokaln, as Dunchanti nodded in agreement.

“The Reeve will be most unhappy, I think,” said Jake.

“I suspect if you suggested the Reeve of such a growing village needed a larger and more gracious home, he would not object to some, uh, assistance to build his own manor with those fine logs he is having brought.”

“You mean gold.”

“Well, yes. Gold may be the root of all evil but it is also undeniably useful in getting things done.”

“And you would, of course, support my suggestion that he should have a finer home,” pressed Jake.

“Oh, of course, of course.”

“I don’t know if I can afford all of this,” said Jake, slowly. “It depends on how the fort defenses are going, and what your head temples say, and what the Reeve says... it would be a massive project for us to undertake.”

“You are skilled at completing big projects, Commander,” said Dunchanti. “As evidenced by the evolution of this monastery.”

Jake nodded but still looked troubled.

“In any case, you’ll be happy to know that in addition to the castle town, we have also begun an orchard just east of the fort. It will take some years to bear fruit, but hopefully we may enjoy the same delicious apples and peaches that one might find in Rinar or Ilarnek.

“We already grow most of our own vegetables, of course, but must rely on the farmers of Cadharna for our grain. In fact, I believe that today is baking day... Captain Ridhi!”

She appeared as if she had been waited to be summoned—and no doubt she had been hovering in the doorway all this time—and raised her eyebrows in query.

“Today is baking day, is it not?”

“Yes, Commander. We’ve been baking since dawn.”

“Would you be so kind as to present my guests with some fresh loaves? They may find it a pleasant change from the bread available in Cadharna.”

“Of course, Commander.”

She vanished out the door, heading for the main building and the bakery.

The Godsworn and the Healer had been staying in Cadharna most of the time, and coming out to the fort as needed. They were also ministering to the needs of the villagers, and had apparently become close friends with the Reeve.

The fort now had about as many people as the village, and considerably more gold. Jake needed to maintain good relations with the Reeve and the rest of the villagers, but he also wanted it to be very clear who controlled things. They were already helping the villagers rebuild after the Battle of Fort Danryce, with labor and materials, and he had no doubt he could get the Reeve to agree to his proposal, one way or another. In fact, he thought to himself, that all went very well. They’re trying to strong-arm me into exactly what I wanted to do in the first place—build their temples right here!

Ridhi was back shortly with dessert—some sort of honey cake—and more tea, plus a fresh-baked loaf of bread for each of them.

 

* * *

 

The next day Jake and Captain Chinh saddled up their horses and rode to Cadharna to see Reeve Lowar.

He was working his fields, as always. This year it looked like he was growing wheat and rye, and leaving several fields fallow for his sheep, goats, and chickens. The Reeve owned no cattle, perhaps because his fields were broken up into relatively small, separate plots. Now that the fort was consuming more meat, no doubt the number of cattle farmers would increase. And more beans, beans, beans!

“Good morning, Reeve!”

“Commander,” he nodded in response. “Captain Chinh, good to see you again.”

Chinh smiled. His troops had saved the village from being destroyed, and no doubt saved the Reeve’s life as well.

“And you, Reeve.”

They dismounted and the Reeve walked over to join them.

“Can I help you with something, Commander?”

“Oh, no, we’re just passing through... checking out a few things out West.”

“Something to worry about?”

“Probably not,” reassured Jake. “We’re thinking of setting up some lookouts to the west and want to see a few possible sites.”

“It’ll be a hot one today, I think...”

“We’re riding! You’re the one doing all the hard work, Reeve!”

Reeve Lowar chuckled.

“I may be Reeve, but the work won’t do itself, you know.”

“You really deserve more recognition for all your hard work, you know... rebuilding the village, keeping all the new residents under control—my apologies for that; the fort has really attracted a lot of people, hadn’t it?—and helping us get the quarry back in good shape.”

“It’s hard, but I do it for the villagers,” said the Reeve, wiping his forehead for a rag. “Nice to be appreciated once in a while.”

“Your assistance is invaluable to the fort in so many ways,” said Chinh. “I’m glad I was able to help you defend the village against Thuba Mleen’s raiders!”

“Yes, thank you for that, Captain.”

“We noticed a lot of new houses and other buildings going up,” said Jake. “I hope you’re building a new house for yourself as well? You really deserve one.”

“No time for such silliness,” said the Reeve. “The village, and the temples.”

“The temples? You are building the temples?” asked Jake, apparently surprised. “I thought the Godsworn would pay to have their temples built.”

“It’s my duty as Reeve to build temples, of course, for the villagers,” said the other. “When they’re done they’ll be grand indeed, made with the finest wood the forest has to offer.”

“You are true to your duty, Reeve, most admirable indeed,” praised Chinh.

“Strange that the head temples, with all their wealth, cannot build their own temples here, though,” mused Jake. “And you certainly deserve a new home for your own family after all you’ve done!”

“My wives have said the same, especially when the roof leaks...”

Jake reached into his tunic and withdrew a small linen bag.

It clinked softly as he chucked it to the Reeve.

“Allow me to contribute a small amount to your new home, Reeve! One must keep one’s wives content or all sorts of problems occur,” he chuckled.

The Reeve deftly caught the bag, hefted it.

“Why, thank you, Commander! Thank you for recognizing my efforts to support the fort!”

He grinned and hefted the bag once more before slipping it into his own tunic.

“Perhaps you are right; a man of my position should have a proper house, one that reflects his importance to the village, and the region.”

“Oh, I agree, Reeve. A manor, to be sure.”

The Reeve’s smile grew even broader.

“But what about the temples?”

“I’m sure the head temples can afford to build new temples without demanding you pay for them, Reeve.”

“Oh, yes. The head temples are richer than I am, to be sure. Down there in the big city and all.”

“Absolutely. Let me talk to the Godsworn and see if I can’t convince them to build the temples themselves,” said Jake. “Forgive us, Reeve Lowar, but we really must be going; we have a long ride ahead of us. Thank you for your excellent advice!”

“Drop by the fort when you get the chance, Reeve!” added Chinh.

They snapped their reins and rode off, unsure if the Reeve, still lost in daydreams, saw them go or not.

As they rode through and beyond the village, Chinh twitched his reins and guided his horse next to Jake’s.

“What was all that about, Commander, if I may ask? You certainly didn’t ride past his fields by accident.”

Jake laughed.

“The temples are being built under the cliff, Captain, not here in the village. And the Reeve has just agreed that it’s an excellent idea.”

“And you’ve already talked this over with Godsworn Rokaln and the Healer, I gather.”

“Of course. And that was the last real problem.”

“They’ll build their own temples?”

“Oh, of course not,” smiled Jake. “I’ll build them, but hopefully they’ll pay for it. And in the process, the new ‘castle town’ springing up below the cliff will gain two beautiful stone temples. Temples, I might add, that the fort will have to protect, which will no doubt require some form of tax...”

Chinh laughed.

“I see the King was not wrong to choose you, Commander. But hopefully you are still the King’s man.”

“Absolutely. The King and I agree on the end goals, although we do have some difference of opinion about how to achieve them.”

“Good. I am, of course, the King’s man through-and-through,” warned Chinh. “So, where to? Are we really off to look at the western extent?”

“Nah. Just a nice ride through the countryside, loop around north and back to the fort. I’ve got too much to do. Besides, setting up lookouts is Beghara’s job. Or Long’s.”

“A beautiful day for a ride, Commander,” agreed Chinh. “Are you familiar with the Otter Rapids, and the small lake just downstream from there? A popular fishing spot, and just a few kilometers down this road, in fact. Excellent roast river fish.”

“Yes, I’ve caught a few there myself. Very nice. Why?”

“Because the last one there buys lunch!” shouted Chinh, and snapped his reins to burst into a gallop.

“Damn you, Chinh!”

 

* * *

 

After lunch—Jake’s treat—they angled up into the mountains to ride past the quarry.

Nobody knew who had actually started the quarry, or cut its rock to build the monastery and a variety of ruins throughout the area, but everyone in the village knew it. It was part of the landscape.

With the rebuilding and improvement of Fort Danryce, plus a few smaller projects in the village, the quarry had come back to life. Stonecutters had been hired from nearby Kadatheron and Toldees, and laborers had showed up to do the work.

The cut stone blocks were transported by ox-drawn wagon to the fort, and rapidly fitted into place in the wall or elsewhere. Work on the fort was almost done now, and the laborers had begun to think of moving on, but once work started on the castle town the quarry would recover.

“Commander Jake! Haven’t seen you here for a while!” said the Stonemaster, a grizzled old man named Buka who had worked many years in the onyx quarries of Inganok. “My stone not to your likin’?”

“Good day, Stonemaster,” replied Jake. “No, your stone is excellent, and the walls and towers almost complete. I wanted to speak with you on something else.”

“Sit,” invited Buka, pointing at some broken bocks nearby that were just right for sitting on. He joined them.

“Two things, actually,” said Jake. “First and most important, I’m planning to build a few things in the little village growing up below the fort. Once the artificer gets here from Celephaïs, he’ll be building a sewage system, a water system with fountains and a public bath, and two temples, for Nath-Horthath and Panakeia.”

The Stonemaster blinked

“Quite a project.”

“Yes it is, and it will need quite a stonemaster to keep it supplied. At a salary commensurate with his skill, of course.”

“Of course. Sure, Commander, I’d be tickled pink,” smiled Buka. “And when is this here artificer type getting’ here?”

“Any day now,” said Chinh. “We’ll bring him out here as soon as possible so the two of you can talk.”

“Fine, fine... I was wonderin’ where t’ go next now your fort’s all pretty,” smiled Buka. “And?”

“Are you familiar with any other quarries in this area? White, very fine-grained rock.”

“White? Nope, don’t recall any... why?”

“Next time you visit the fort ask to see the church floor,” explained Jake. There is a single block of white rock set into the floor, and I’m curious where it might have come from.”

“Ain’t no white rock in the Mohaggers. Leastways, I ain’t never heard of no such thing, and I been working these mountains for a round dozen and more.”

“Interesting... what about marble?”

“Nope, not ’round here. Best place for marble is up in Lomar, ’round Olathoë and such. Most of the marble out here is from the desert quarries in the far east, near the Pool of Night. All under Thuba Mleen’s thumb now.”

“Celephaïs was built with marble, too.”

“Yeah, most of that’s from Lomar; a little from Thran’s quarries. No idea where he got all that pink marble from, though. Beautiful stuff.”

“So if we wanted marble temples we can’t get it around here.”

“Not unless you want to go diggin’ up Sarnath... plenty of marble there, to be sure, but all sunk in the bogs now and guarded by who knows what.”

“There are lots of stories about ‘the doom of Sarnath’,” said Jake. “But have you ever seen any of its fabled marble?”

“I seen stonework said to come from Sarnath, yes I have,” nodded Buka. “Very nice stuff, looked like that old desert marble to me. Hard to say if it came from Sarnath or not. But it was carved something pretty, and had been buried a long, long time. Mighta been Sarnath, mighta been them lizardfolk.”

“The Ibizim, you mean?”

“Nah, Ibizim’re human. The real lizard people, you know, croc snouts and long tails, green scales, the works,” said Buka, waving his hands in emphasis. “The Ibizim just use their tunnels.”

“The lizard people used a lot of marble?”

“Oh, yeah. All sorts of stone, in their tunnels and cities. Story goes they had big quarries underground, but I never seen one. Supposed to be a big lizard city under the Mohaggers somewhere, too.”

“Have you ever been in one of their tunnels?”

“Nope. Up Inganok way you don’t wanna go wanderin’ around in tunnels. Not likely to ever come out again, if you know what I mean.”

“No Ibizim up there, huh?”

“Ibizim are desert folk; not much likin’ for ice and snow.”

“Well, that sucks,” muttered Jake. “I’d hoped to use marble for those temples; impress the hell out of everyone.”

“Well, if it’s fancy rocks you want, why not use chalcedony or malachite or somethin’? Impressive as hell.”

“Malachite’s green, right? Lots of little bubbles and lines and stuff in it?”

“Yeah, that’s the stuff. And chalcedony’s a light blue, most of the time. With or without lines.”

“Think you can quarry enough to make one of each?”

“Chalcedony’s easy: Narath. The mountain quarries between Narath and Zulan-Thek are huge. They supplied Sarnath, too, for that matter... Might be a bit tricky to get it down here easily, since Thuba Mleen’s turf is smack in the middle, but pay the toll and they’d let it through, I imagine.

“Now, malachite... hmm, have to ask around for that one. I seen malachite from Zar and Thalarion, but don’t know if it’s really quarried or just little stuff. Don’t recall ever seeing slabs of it.

“What about carnelian? Chalcedony and malachite are blue, most of the time, but carnelian is in all sort of orange and red. The Hills of Noor have all the carnelian you’d ever need, and cheap, too, because nobody never uses it for nothing ’cept jewelry. You’d need to convince the Ibizim to let you have it, but from what I hear you’re already in with them.

“Hang on a sec... I think I’ve got some here...”

Buka held up the bracelet on his left wrist. Composed of large, multi-colored stone beads, it looked cold and heavy. He flicked through the beads and finally held up one that was a dark red.

“Yup, that’s carnelian... Just look at that beauty shine!”

It was beautiful, a deep red flaming to crimson in the center as the sun shone through.

“Damn, that’s stunning!”

“Do you think you can get the Godsworn to use it, Commander?”

“Only have to convince one of them, Captain; the other can use chalcedony.”

“Actually, they’re both chalcedony,” said Buka. “Pretty much the same rock.”

“Can you get me samples of both, so I can show the Godsworn? They’ve probably seen the rocks already, but nothing like showing the real thing when you want to close the deal.”

“Sure, no problem. You in a hurry?”

“Say, within a week?”

“Easy. I’ll have the boy pick some up next time he’s off to Kadatheron.”

“Thank you, Stonemaster. That’s quite a load off my mind.”

“Happy to help, Commander. You bring that artificer out here now, OK? We’ll get you all the stone you need to make that place pretty.”

After the talk, Jake and Chinh swung north and back east, arriving back at Fort Danryce in the late afternoon.

Chapter 10

She awakened to the warbling and chirping of the birds, and realized it was morning... the sky was already bright to the east, the sun about ready to peek over the mountains.

It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, Seri thought, until she recalled where they were, and where they were going.

More marching, and directly toward a major concentration of enemy forces: Bleth.

She sat up and looked around the camp, silently: About half her twelve were still sleeping, the rest already getting ready for the day’s march. TT was up on a nearby slope, on guard duty, and Ebubechukwu, one of the archers from Zar, stood watch from another slight rise some distance away, bow at hand.

She walked over to the stream and cupped a handful of water. Runoff from the mountain, it was almost clear, free of the mud and debris no doubt clogging the main stream in the center of the valley. Cold and delicious, it woke her up and reminded her she hadn’t eaten yet.

Munching on a bar of pressed fruit and beans, she walked through the camp kicking the troopers who were still asleep, and up the slope to TT.

“Morning, Sergeant.”

“Captain.”

“Beautiful weather today.”

He grunted.

“They’ll be able to see us miles away.”

“Kilometers, even.”

“Yeah, whatever,” agreed TT. “It’s gonna be a bitch to sneak around today... no rain, damn few trees, and a lot of people to hide.”

“Send the raptors out farther up ahead?”

“I’d really prefer to wait until tonight and move when it’s dark.”

“We’re pretty exposed here already,” said Seri. “We haven’t seen a trace of anyone, but you’re right... they could see us from a long ways away if they were watching, even if we are mostly hidden down next to the stream.”

“I’d say move farther up into the mountains, and wait until dark. This streambed we’re following is getting pretty narrow and I’d expect it to peter out soon anyway, so we might as well get into the rough sooner rather than later.”

“Slow us down quite a bit...”

“Well, yeah, but so would getting killed.”

Seri chuckled.

“I agree with you, actually. It would have been nice to get closer in the rain, but we need cover more than we need to hurry.”

Seri whistled Mudge over.

“We go that way,” she said, pointing between two mountains. It wasn’t high enough to be called a pass, and looked to be blocked by debris and scree, but it was a good place to hide in and was headed in almost the direction they wanted to go. “Scout quietly.”

Mudge nodded and grinned. Or was she just baring her fangs? Hard to tell, thought Seri.

The raptor gave a low shriek and all of a sudden half a dozen more reptilian snouts popped up into view all around the camp. When they were hidden, they were very difficult to spot, their green and brown scales very similar to their muddy surroundings.

She walked back to the camp and put her bedroll back in her pack, along with the few odds and ends she had taken out. She travelled light: most of her pack was food and water, although thus far there had been plenty of nice, cold melt or spring water to drink.

She debated putting her mail shirt in the pack, too. It was heavy and it was going to be a hot day, but if they got into a fight she’d miss it.

She shook her head.

Better put it on and suffer. And make sure everyone else did, too.

“Good morning, Troopers! I hope you all enjoyed your leisurely beauty sleep and are ready for a little exercise? Since the weather cleared and we’re a little too obvious here, we’re going to move up into that ravine and see where it goes. We’ll probably spend the day there and continue on to Bleth at dusk. With luck we’ll get to see the walls tonight, and with even more luck we’ll do it without being spotted.

“So get it all cleaned up, troopers! Pick up your garbage, brush your tracks, and get ready to move out. Yargui, you and Aymeric are the last ones out—I want you to check the entire area and make sure we haven’t left anything obvious.”

“Yes, Captain,” they said in chorus.

“Kareem, Aashika Chabra, the raptors are already scouting out up that way,” she continued, pointing to the ravine continuing deeper into the mountains. “You two take point for now and see what’s waiting for us. If you spot anyone do not engage, unless they spot you—in which case kill them if you can, or get back her if you can’t. Good?”

“Good,” echoed Kareem, as he and Aashika Chabra slipped their rucks on and headed out.

TT and the other guard had rejoined them and they were ready to go shortly.

“Sergeant, set ’em up,” she ordered.

“OK, spread out wide,” said TT. “Make sure you can see each other, and keep your damn eyes open. We really don’t want to be noticed, so stay alert and stay in cover as much as possible. If you see something, whistle first and then investigate.

“Oh, and Kareem mentioned the mountains are full of snakes, too, so might watch where you walk.”

“Move out!” said Seri, and they did.

 

* * *

 

At about the same time, Beorhtwig was just cinching his saddle on Flogdreka.

They hadn’t been able to do much yesterday thanks to the unexpected rainclouds, but the sky was crystal-clear, only a few tiny clouds lurking at the very horizon.

He couldn’t wait to get up there.

He was supposed to wait for de Palma’s airship, but the sun was up and the day was calling. The archer from Captain Ekene’s twelve, an ebon Zarite named Ifechukwu, was already seated and secured on Fæger... she hadn’t been afraid of flying, and had proved to be an excellent shot from the air. She said it was because she had been practicing shooting from galloping horses since she was a babe, but Beorhtwig suspected she was just gifted... he certainly couldn’t make those shots, no matter how good a wyvern-rider he was!

He kicked Flogdreka, and they launched into the sky, Fæger following close as always.

The two wyverns called to each other as they climbed, circling around each other, wingtips almost touching at times. Without his saddle and lifeline, Beorhtwig would have been thrown to death dozens of times, but they were ecstatic flying, and he couldn’t get enough of their antics. He checked up on Ifechukwu every so often, but she seemed to be enjoying the ride, too.

Up, up, until he could make out the blob that was Kadatheron, and beyond it, the Middle Sea. Below him stretched the Lake of Sarnath, neatly enclosed in the curved sweep of the Mohagger Range, and to the northwest lay the almost-hidden valley of Toldees and Mondath, buried deep in the mountains. Father north was the Eastern Desert, a yellow and brown tapestry stretching across half of the horizon. He knew Thuba Mleen’s palace was out there, far beyond Mondath, but it was too small and too far away to be seen from here.

While they saw only the highest peaks of the Mohaggers yesterday, today the entire range clawed high into the heavens, a study in rugged contrast as the eastern side was tinged red by the rising orb of the sun while the west was dark in shadow.

He let the wyverns soar and circle, enjoying the peace and beauty of this silent world as he waited.

A few minutes later he saw the Cavor lift off from the belltower, circling once over the fort and then climbing sharply to join him.

They made rendezvous over the lake, the airship keeping pace with the wyverns as they drifted slowly through the air, almost hovering into a headwind. The Cavor, at an angle to the wind, had no difficulty keeping pace. It had the other five archers of Captain Ekene’s six onboard, under the Captain himself. Nobody thought they’d be needed, but better safe than sorry... and it wouldn’t hurt to give them more experience flying.

“Morning to you, Trooper!”

“And to you, Aercaptain de Palma! A beautiful morning indeed!”

“Today we’ll get our first glimpse of Bleth, I think.”

“Aye, it should be an interesting day,” replied Beorhtwig. “Let us see what they have in the air, shall we?”

They headed north.

Valda was orienting the peak maps she had made the previous day with their position, and when she was set she signaled de Palma to halt the airship. The aercaptain would try to keep it stationary while she sketched in terrain details, and when she was done here they’d move a bit more.

Over the course of the day they’d repeat the process dozens of times, and while it was a bit of a chore to try to hold the airship steady, he and the crew really had very little to do. A deck of cards soon appeared on the foredeck.

Overtly, Beorhtwig was providing protection to the airship. The wyverns would land on a convenient peak when the airship was sufficiently near one, and circle nearby if not. There was a strong updraft on the desert flank of the Mohaggers, as heated air swept upwards along the mountain slopes, and a stiff wind from the east at a higher altitude, so the wyverns could stay up for long periods of time without getting exhausted.

At the same time, though, Beorhtwig was looking for signs of Captain Serilarinna’s twelve, and her raptors. He knew they’d be hiding, but it was difficult to hide from the sky... and besides, he expected them to flash him, too.

Just before they broke for lunch—which would be with the airship moored to a mountain peak and the wyverns sitting nearby—he finally caught the flash of a mirror from a narrow ravine north of the lake.

They were a bit farther north than he’d expected, and the narrowness of the ravine made it hard for them to catch the sunlight while he was in view, but it was unmistakable.

It flashed a few simple codes—no enemy sighted, continuing mission.

He circled once to indicate he’d seen the message, and continued on.

As they were eating lunch, Ifechukwu sat down next to him on the airship’s deck.

“I saw the flash, Trooper, and I saw you signal back... who are you talking to?”

Beorhtwig looked around quickly to make sure nobody was nearby, then leaned over.

“Trooper Ifechukwu, that’s the reason we’re up here, flapping about in circles. I can’t tell you more, and right now the only people up here that know that are you, me, and de Palma, so keep it to yourself.”

“I have to tell my captain,” said Ifechukwu. “You can tell him, too, but I have to tell him what I saw.”

“Dammit! Can’t you wait until... no, of course you can’t. Shit!”

Beorhtwig stood, searched for Aercaptain de Palma, waved him over.

“Go get Captain Ekene and bring him back here. Nobody else!”

Beorhtwig told de Palma briefly what the problem was, and de Palma quickly evicted a few archers who had been sitting in the stern, leaving it entirely empty.

Ekene showed up shortly, his double-curved bow on his back and a cup of tea in one hand.

They squatted down, and Aercaptain de Palma began.

“Captain Ekene, I’m sorry you’ve been kept in the dark until now, but Commodore’s orders. There is a scouting party below, heading north, and our primary mission is to provide air cover for them if needed. Mapping is useful, but it’s not why we’re here.

“We don’t think Thuba Mleen has any more airships or wyverns but we don’t know, and hopefully between your archers and the two wyverns we can take care of anything he does manage to throw at us. We are supposed to attract his attention by mapping the region, and hopefully give the scouting party a better chance at getting a look at Bleth.”

“Bleth! I thought we were getting awfully close to his turf... and there’s a scouting party going in on the ground!”

“And now there are four of us up here who know what’s going on. We can’t afford to let a word of this escape. If you need to, talk to the Commander tonight to check with him, but this has to remain top secret, absolutely nobody else must know,” stressed de Palma.

“We aren’t even allowed to reply to their flashes,” explained Beorhtwig. “I circled to let them know I read the message, but that’s about all I can do... and we circle a lot up here already, to make it harder for Thuba Mleen’s troops to figure out what’s going on.”

“So we might see action today after all...” mused Ekene. “It’s very restful floating around up here, but we’re bored silly.”

“Keep your eyes open, Captain. If they do decide to attack us when we get closer to Bleth, it’ll come quickly, whatever it is.

“You know,” continued de Palma, “I’m pretty sure my crew knows what’s going on, too, even if they don’t know the details. We’ve been together a long time, though, and I’m confident they’ll keep their mouths closed.”

“If your crew has noticed, I think we can assume my archers have noticed, too,” said Ekene. “I knew something was going on... They’re new to flight, but non-observant people just don’t last long in this business.”

Aercaptain de Palma sighed.

“I’m not surprised... we knew we couldn’t keep it secret forever, but I’d hoped it’d last longer than one day!”

Captain Ekene laughed.

“I’m surprised it’s lasted this long, actually... usually all these details are known to the entire fort before the troops even hit the road!”

“You think we should do a full briefing?”

“Anyone who leaks to the enemy is going to leak anyway. We can assume everyone knows there are troops on the ground somewhere down there, even if they don’t know the details... I don’t see that we lose anything by admitting they’re scouting the Mohaggers on foot while we map from the air, and don’t mention Bleth.”

Aercaptain de Palma thought for a moment. Ekene ranked him, but in theory he was in command as captain of the Cavor. He didn’t want to do anything to suggest that Captain Ekene could issue commands onboard, but he also didn’t want to risk making an enemy of him.

“I agree with your suggestion, Captain, thank you,” he said. “Might as well get it over with.”

He stood up and jumped up on top of the deckhouse.

“Everyone, a moment please!”

It was a small ship, and his voice reached everyone easily.

“Since we’re out of the reach of any prying eyes and ears, I’d like to bring you all up to speed on our mission.

“Some of you may have wondered why we need two wyverns and a six of archers to defend an airship mapping the mountains. We are mapping the mountains, yes, but we are working together with people on the ground who are making a survey on foot. And since Thuba Mleen has a whole fort full of troopers up north, on the other side of the mountains, he might decide to come down here and bother us.

“We want those maps, but we also don’t want him killing off the ground party, or destroying our airship... so here you are.”

He paused for a moment.

“We are taking every precaution to avoid drawing Thuba Mleen’s attention to that surveying party. We want him to be about us, and hopefully miss them. Once the mission’s over and we have the maps it won’t matter anymore, but for now this is secret. You don’t talk about it to anybody on the ground, ever.

“Any problems?”

There was a mutter from the assembled crew and archers, but no questions.

“Captain? Did you have something to add?”

Captain Ekene joined him atop the deckhouse.

“I know you’re all getting a little tired of floating around like dandelion fluff, but we might see some action so try to stay awake, will ’ya?”

There was scattered laughter.

“Make sure you know where your lifelines are, too,” added de Palma. “If we get into a fight up the airship is going to really jump around, and there’s nothing we can do for you if you get thrown out. Make sure you have one next to you, or keep it tied on all the time. We don’t always get much warning when there’s an attack up here... no hoofbeats in the clouds.”

More muttering, and de Palma noticed a few archers hurriedly scrambling for ropes, or checking their knotwork.

After lunch they were back at it, marking time while Valda worked on her sketches.

“I’ll have to have a little talk with the Commander, I think,” said Ekene to de Palma. “I understand your position, but he really should have told me what’s going on in the first place.”

“I thought you should know but...”

Ekene held up a hand.

“Don’t worry, not your fault. I’ve been in the same position. More to the point, though, Beorhtwig confirmed they’re OK?”

“The Commander forbade us from answering except in emergencies, but they said they’re still on mission, and haven’t encountered any enemies yet.”

“Where are they?”

Aercaptain de Palma walked over to Valda’s table, waited until she was looking over the railing at the ground, and quickly tapped a spot on the map.

“He got the signal from here.”

Ekene nodded.

“Hard place to get out of, if push comes to shove.”

“If necessary I can help pull them out, but my priority is to preserve the airship, I’m afraid... could get awkward.”

“We’ll just have to make sure Thuba Mleen never notices them, then!”

“It’d be nice if he never noticed us, either...” muttered de Palma. “On that note, Clank is keeping watch through the solehole; would you like to post one of your archers there?”

“I’m not used to airships, and keep forgetting that this isn’t like a boat. You can see—and shoot—from the bottom, of course.”

“A lot of people can’t handle looking straight down from an airship. Takes practice.”

“I’ll cycle my people through there one at a time and see how they take it. Good idea.”

 

* * *

 

The ravine gradually rose, getting narrower and steeper as it climbed, until finally it petered out entirely. Just ahead a fold of the mountain crossed their path, a two-meter rise blocking their way.

Seri scrabbled up the steep rock face, pulling herself up to the top for a better look.

“There’s a similar ravine stretching out this way,” she called back to the others. “Looks pretty much the same.”

“What’ll we do about the raptors?” called TT.

Seri dropped down, dusted her hands off.

“Yargui, Aashika Chabra... get over there and see if there’s anything waiting for us on the other side. Don’t go too far, and don’t be seen!

“Kareem, you ever been in this region before?”

“No, Captain. When I entered the mountains at all it was always on the known routes.”

“I guess that’s good news... maybe they won’t be expecting us.”

She turned to TT.

“Any dead trees or something we can use to make a step for the raptors?”

“Sorry, just brush around here... I think we’d have to backtrack all the way to the stream again to find anything that big.”

“OK, the raptors are, what, maybe thirty kilos or so? We’ll just lift them up.”

“Mudge!”

The raptor came trotting over.

“Mudge, do I need muzzles?”

Mudge shook her head no.

“No biting or clawing!”

Mudge smiled, or maybe bared her teeth—it was hard to tell which.

With Yargui and Aashika Chabra scouting up ahead her six was down to herself and three troopers, and there were six raptors to get over the hump. Mudge wouldn’t bite anyone, but she was less certain about the five dumb ones... they were all friendly in camp when they wanted a piece of your dinner, but animals could react violently to all sorts of things, and she didn’t want to lose a trooper to one of her own raptors!

“Mudge, I want you on top of the wall for now,” she said, and picked the raptor up. She was about the size and weight of a Great Dane: heavy and awkward to carry, but not impossible.

She raised Mudge over her head, pushing her up the rock wall while Mudge scrabbled her feet, until finally she managed to pull herself to the top.

Seri turned around and stepped out of the way so Aymeric, a Daikosian swordsman in her six, could lift up another raptor.

Mudge hissed once when one of the raptors began wriggling, but other than that there were no problems, and everyone—raptors and human both—was over the hump within a short period of time.

Seri looked ahead, down the slope. It gradually grew into a ravine as tiny rivulets from the mountains drained into it. She couldn’t see very far as it twisted and turned through the rocks, but she imagined it grew into a larger stream later, probably draining into the Eastern Desert somewhere.

Aashika Chabra came walking back.

“It looks all clear up ahead, Captain... no sign of anyone we can see, although yesterday’s rain could have washed away a lot. Yargui’s gone on a bit farther.”

“OK, let’s get it on,” ordered Seri. “Mudge, scout front!”

Mudge snarled at her raptors and they click-clacked off over the rock, downstream.

Seri and Aashika in the lead, they followed the raptors, often clambering over boulders or squeezing between them. It would have been a great place for an ambush except that there was no place to hide on the mountainsides above them.

Seri kept looking anyway, expecting to see a flight of arrows or the flash of a sword.

A raptor shriek brought her attention back to the front.

“Back! All of you, get back!”

It was Yargui, shouting at the raptors.

Seri dashed forward, jumping over and on rocks, risking a fall in her hurry.

“Sergeant! Advance under cover!”

TT hunched down, a habit left over from when he faced rifles, and scuttled forward to the cover of an overhang.

“Keep under cover, and move up!” he called to the rest of the twelve. “Archers, if you see it, shoot it!”

Seri skidded to a halt, almost stepping on a raptor.

There was a half-circle of raptors eyeing a rock lizard

Yargui was sprawled on the ground next to it, facing the raptors with her arm outstretched, palm out to command them to halt.

Mudge was standing between the raptors and Yargui, rumbling softly to herself, head snapping back and forth as she tried to look at everyone at once.

“What happened, trooper?”

“A rock lizard, Captain. It was fighting that snake,” she explained, pointing at two halves of a huge snake lying on the ground. Obviously she’d chopped it in half.

“The lizard only got bitten once, and the snake was getting ready to crush it when I got here.”

“It’s just a lizard, Yargui,” said Seri, sheathing her sword. “I know you miss your sand lizard, but it’s fine back at the fort.”

“Sorry, Captain, should’ve been clearer... This isn’t a wild lizard.”

She stuck one finger under the leather collar around the lizard’s neck and lifted it up a bit.

“A pet lizard, out here!?”

“It’s a rock lizard, Captain. Pretty much like my sand lizard, but lives in the mountains instead of the desert. And I think it’s a hunting lizard.”

The raptors hissed and jumped again, suddenly rearranging themselves to face the mountainside.

Seri looked up to see a man sitting on the naked rock slope, looking down at them. He was dressed in what looked like rags, the colors of the rock around them and ragged to break up his profile.

“My lizard,” he said.

“Mudge, pull the raptors back,” commanded Seri, stepping forward, hands empty.

Behind her, TT signaled the archers to nock arrows and stand ready.

“Who are you?”

“Lonagon of Y’barra.”

“Y’barra—the Mountain People!” breathed Yargui.

“Talk to me, Yargui,” said Seri. “Who are the Mountain People?”

“They’re Ibizim, just like me. That’s why we both have lizards. They’ve always lived in the mountains, and we in the desert.”

“They have nothing to do with Thuba Mleen?”

“I don’t...”

“We are of the mountains, and have naught to do with the Emperor of the Sands. We see his troops, but they never see us.”

“Yet you showed yourself to us now.”

“You saved my rock lizard, and I would have her back.”

Seri stepped well back, gesturing TT and the others to fall back as well.

“Mudge, pull those raptors back, dammit!”

Mudge snarled and they grudgingly shuffled backwards, obviously hoping for an invitation to attack the lizard. Or eat it?

“We shall not stand in your way. Our enemy is Thuba Mleen, not the Mountain People.”

The other half ran, half hopped down the mountainside, his soft-booted feet making almost no sound, and walked over to the injured rock lizard.

He bowed to Yargui.

“Yargui of the Copper Beetle,” she said and stepped back. He squatted down next to the lizard, his hand on its head for a moment, turned.

“Captain Serilarinna, thank you.”

“You know my name!?”

“We’ve been following you since you left the Lake of Sarnath,” the other said. “I was too busy trying to stay out of your way to protect my rock lizard.”

“You said ‘we’?”

The other whistled, and Seri’s twelve shrank closer together as half a dozen rock-colored figures suddenly appeared around them. They must have been hiding in plain view all this time.

“We can conceal our smell, but not perfectly, and raptors can still sense us if they get too close... Your raptors kept us on the move constantly.”

“Yes, they’re well-trained,” said Seri, without going into detail. “Take your lizard, and go in peace.”

He nodded, and, picking up his injured pet, draped it over his shoulders.

“We shall leave a marker for you up ahead; turn east there and you will find an unwatched trail to Snakescale, and you can see Bleth from there. We of Y’barra always pay our debts.”

And they were gone.

“Well, that was interesting...” said TT, breaking the silence.

“Yargui, what else do you know about these people?” asked Seri.

“They’re just Ibizim... I mean, they’re not special, they just live in the mountains and we live in the desert.

“Some of the Ibizim in my Home traded with them, but I don’t know the details. Like I said, this is the first time I’ve ever met anyone from there.”

“So they’re not allies of Thuba Mleen?”

“If they were I’d certainly have heard about it!,” she denied. “No, they’re just cousins, basically, who live somewhere else. As far as I know.”

“Interesting. And they are invisible here in the mountains...” mused Seri. “They live underground?”

“I think they live in the same protected valleys as we do, but I know they also use tunnels. I don’t know if that is the same Sunless Road we use, or tunnels they constructed themselves, though.”

“What’s Snakescale?”

“Must be a mountain. Never heard of it, but we don’t know the names of most of these mountains.”

“Well, we’ll find out. He’s gone now—they’re all gone,” said Seri. “And if they did leave us a marker up ahead that’ll be great. Move out!”

One of the raptors stayed to investigate the dead snake until Mudge nipped his flank, and they headed downstream, followed by Serilarinna, Yargui, and Aashika, and then the rest of the twelve, with TT bringing up the rear.

The stream running down the ravine was flush with rainwater, and in places there was still plenty of mud left to make going tough. Low bushes grew here and there, giving them something to hang onto when they slipped, but Seri was worried that every slip was leaving a mark that Thuba Mleen’s men could spot too easily. Hopefully there’d be more rain later to wash it all off.

About an hour later Yargui held up her hand, signaling Seri and Aashika to stop.

She pointed to a slope on their right, a clear incline of time-polished rock.

Right in the middle of the otherwise-empty rock face was a seashell... a perfectly normal seashell. Half of a scallop, in fact.

“That’s it?”

“Yes, Captain. There’s no reason for a seashell to be here in the mountains this far from the sea, and it certainly would have washed away in the rain last night.”

Seri looked up the slope, searching for anything out of the ordinary... a couple boulders, some fresh scree, a scrawny bush.... not much.

“You see anything?”

“No, but let me go have a look,” said Aashika, scrambling up the rock to grab hold of the bush, then transfer to the boulder. She slipped around behind it.

“There’s an opening here, Captain,” she shouted. “I’m going to have a quick look.”

“Yargui, is this the shortcut he mentioned? Get up there and stay with her.”

Yargui climbed the rock face, quickly slipping behind the same boulder.

A minute passed... two, then three.

Yargui popped out from behind the boulder again.

“This is it, Captain. It’s a short passage, well, half a tunnel really, opening up into another streambed, just on the other side. Only a few meters long.”

Seri climbed up for herself, gripping Yargui’s outstretched hand to cross the final stretch and grab onto the boulder. There was a narrow gap behind the boulder, wide enough for one person to walk, leading into a passage.

The passage, obviously widened in places, was only a few meters long. The foot of the mountain, stretched out like a giant tree root gradually vanishing into the earth, had been eaten away from the other side by the mountain stream there, leaving it only a few meters thick in this exact spot.

The roof of the passage opened first to the sky, and the wall gradually dropped until it was gone, and she was standing in an almost spherical pothole, cut into the flesh of the peak by millennia of mountain floods.

In front of her was another ravine, running almost north-south: the secret way Lonagon had mentioned. To the north—the direction they wanted to go—it sloped upwards.

She stepped back where the rest were waiting.

“Sergeant TiTi, we’re going through, one at a time. Throw me a rope and I’ll give you something easier to hold onto.”

TT pulled a rope out of his pack and threw it up to her.

Seri caught it deftly and handed it to Yargui.

“Help them up, Yargui. I’m going through.”

She went back into the passage, joining Aashika on the other side as Yargui wrapped the rope around her waist and sat down on the rock floor, bracing herself against the boulder with her feet. She threw the other end of the rope back down to the Sergeant, and the rest of the twelve started climbing up.

The raptors, unable to grasp the rope with any strength, scrambled up, trusting the talons on their feet to hold the rope enough to get them to the top. Most of them made it on the first try; one took three.

TT was the last one up.

“Don’t forget the shell, Sergeant!” called Yargui. “No point in leaving a marker for them to find.”

He snatched it up and pushed it into his wallet, then walked up the slope while pulling himself on the rope.

He helped Yargui up, and they went on through the passage, into the next valley.

 

* * *

 

“There they are!” called de Palma. “They just crossed over into that narrow valley, there.”

He pointed to the shadowed valley below, running almost north-south.

“Good eyes!” praised Captain Ekene, holding up a hand to shade his own eyes. “I’d never spot them from this height if you hadn’t pointed them out.”

“It’s hard to tell from here, but it looks like that valley runs pretty much straight north toward Bleth, then peters out... The shadows suggest that’s a pretty flat area, but it’s hard to tell without dropping down a bit lower. Which I’d rather not do.”

He turned to Bridok.

“Can you flash the wyverns? Let them know?”

“I’ll try!”

Bridok grabbed a signaling mirror and walked toward the stern, searching for a spot where he could reflect the sunlight to Beorhtwig. He found one, and tried a few flashes.

They had only agreed on a very few codes, and this one was simple: We found them.

Beorhtwig flashed back a simple OK, but didn’t change course. They didn’t want Thuba Mleen’s troops to suspect they were interested in some particular area in the mountains.

Bleth was visible in the distance, a sand-colored pile of walls and towers. They couldn’t see any of the defenders from here, but there was no doubt they were there, watching.

Aercaptain de Palma watched Seri’s twelve and the raptors advance up the cleft, and while it was impossible to tell which blob was a person and which was a raptor, there was one blob too few... they’d already had a casualty.

 The stream grew thinner and thinner as it rose, until finally the party emerged onto a relatively flat area. They were quite close to Bleth now, as the crow flies.

He left the airship to the practiced hands of Bridock and concentrated on Seri’s twelve.

They had no place to hide now, but it didn’t look like Bleth had anything up in the air...

 

* * *

 

“I hate being exposed like this,” grumbled TT. “Not a rock or a tree in sight... we’re sitting ducks if they come at us with an airship or whatever.”

“Relax, Sergeant,” said Seri. “There’s nothing we can do about it except trust Lonagon. They said it was not being watched.

“Right now I’m more worried about where we go from here... we must be pretty close to Bleth, but I really don’t want to be spotted by anyone on the ground, either.”

“For now, I suggest we just keep on,” advised Yargui. “Lonagon said this route would work, and he had little reason to lie.”

“Agreed,” nodded Seri. “For now we keep on moving north.

“Aashika, you and Sergeant TiTi take point. Mudge, spread out wider on the flanks; I don’t want to be surprised up here.”

They continued to advance. Ahead of them, the rock shelf they were traversing gradually slanted upward and grew into another peak. It wasn’t one of the tallest ones, but it looked a lot more rugged than most, ragged from some ancient catastrophe that had ravaged its once-symmetrical form. It was a surprisingly thin mountain, and almost perfectly triangular in shape.”

“That must be Snakescale,” guessed Yargui.

As they got closer they could see signs of more recent avalanches, rocks and scree scattered in piles, some not yet weathered by the elements.

“So where do we go from here?” wondered Seri aloud, searching the debris in front of her, and the rising mountain.

“Captain!”

It was Aashika Chabra, pointing to the ground near where she stood.

A seashell lay there, and beyond it a narrow gap between two boulders lay in shadow.

“Another marker,” said Seri. “This must be it.

“Sergeant, you and Aashika check it out.”

TT led the way, vanishing into the shadow silently, Aashika close behind.

“Take a break,” said Seri. “Try to stay in shadow if you can... I don’t think Bleth has anything up in the air, but you never know.”

A few minutes later Aashika returned.

“This is it, Captain... There’s one place that’s a little tricky, but at the end is an ideal place to observe Bleth. Sarge’s there now.”

“Lead me, trooper. Yargui! You’re in charge until either Sergeant TiTi or I get back. Stay out of sight.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Seri followed Aashika between the two boulders, placing one hand on the adjacent rocks every so often as her boots slipped. The path twisted and turned, and in one place, as Aashika has said, there was a sheer drop-off on one side that forced them to carefully slide their feet across a narrow ledge, gripping the rock wall with their fingertips, to reach safety.

On the other side there was a small, low space, wide enough for only four or five people, surrounded by fallen rock... and looking down almost directly at Bleth.

She could see all of the close side, and most of the rest except where it was hidden by towers or the central keep. More than enough to make a very complete map, and figure out just what forces were based there.

It was perfect.

“Trooper, run a rope across that sheer drop, and then go back and tell Yargui we’re gonna be here for a while. Oh, and tell her to signal the airship that we’re in position.”

“Yessir,” said Aashika, and she scuttled back into the darkness.

“We’re in shadow here,” said TT, “so no worry about the sun glinting off our telescopes. I’ve been sketching the fort.”

He showed her the sheet he’d been working on.

“Haven’t seen any movement yet, but when they change the guard we’ll get a pretty good idea of what’s down there.”

“Good. Anything up in the air?”

“Haven’t seen anything yet.”

Seri lifted her own telescope to her eye and began examining Bleth in detail.

“Looks like a triple gate. Towers on both flanks, and above. Murder holes for sure.”

“Hmm, I think so, too,” said TT. “There’s a postern over there on the far right, see it? No flanking tower, but something big above. Probably a defense.”

“Sergeant, you are not so familiar with our fortifications yet. I’d like you to go back and take command of the twelve and the raptors—find somewhere safe to set up camp—and have Kareem and Yargui come here.”

“Why them?”

“Kareem’s been inside and can help explain things; Yargui knows how forts are built. She’s been around quite a bit.”

“Right,” nodded TT. “Here’s what I’ve got so far, and my paper. Good luck!”

“Oh, and Sergeant... make a good map and sketches of how to find this place again. I don’t want to leave that seashell, but I suspect we’ll be back here again.”

“Yessir.”

He slipped away, leaving Seri alone in the outlook.

A few minutes later Kareem and Yargui joined her there.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t see where they’ve gone, but that flash says they’re in position and OK, so I guess they found a safe place,” said de Palma.

“That open area they crossed is pretty close to Bleth... They must’ve circled that mountain somehow.”

“Can’t tell from here, Captain, but no doubt. Maybe time to swing a bit closer?”

“I wouldn’t mind a closer look at Bleth myself, Aercaptain.”

Captain Ekene turned back toward the deck, shouting “Archers! We’re going to swing a bit closer to Bleth, so have those arrows handy! And check your damn lifelines! We’re keeping our distance, but don’t know what they might throw at us.”

“Mistress Valda, I don’t want to spend too much time close to the fort, but I’m going to fly through the area once just to see what it looks like in more detail. You won’t have time to make sketches, and depending what they do we may have to leave quickly.

“If they do nothing—which is what I think will happen, since they don’t seem to have airships or wyverns—then we can come back for a more leisurely visit later.”

“Thank you, Aercaptain,” she replied. “I’ll just make a quick sketch, then, of the major points, and hopefully we can fill it in later.”

“Bridok, Frija! Make sure the sails are free... if something happens I’ll want to get out of here fast.

“Clank? Stay on the solehole, but watch yourself. If things get tight, button ’er up.”

“Aye sir,” came a muffled affirmative from below. One of the archers was down there with him, too.

Captain de Palma steered the airship toward the sand-colored fort far below. The two wyverns were circling nearby, ready to pounce on any threat with their superior speed.

They approached slowly, de Palma tacking into the wind. It meant the airship was moving far more slowly than usual, as it was advancing partially against the wind, but it also meant they could flee much, much faster by just adjusting the sails, and letting the wind blow them on their way.

Captain Ekene held his telescope to his eye, examining the fort’s defenses.

“Wow, that’s a thick wall... must be maybe, five meters? And probably twice that high. Towers all around, but I can’t tell how high from here.”

“Look at the length of a shadow, and compare it to the length of a man’s shadow,” advised de Palma. “You can make a pretty good guess that way.”

“Oh, right... that’s handy,” muttered Ekene, swinging his telescope back and forth.

“Mistress? You getting this?”

Valda was also looking down, sketching the terrain furiously.

Ekene doubted she even heard him, and let it ride. She was busy.

“Captain! Port bow low!” came a cry from Bridok.

He looked and saw a host of black dots issuing from one of the buildings in the fort. Flying dots.

Not big enough to be wyverns, or airships... but what...?

Suddenly a shadow swooped down from above: Beorhtwig.

“Eagles! It’s eagles! Get out of here!”

He turned his wyvern and they raced for the mountains, wings pumping full speed. Eagles could fly higher and faster than wyverns, and while the wyvern was far larger, a flock of eagles could tear it apart.

Eagles could tear him apart, too.

He threw the tiller over, shouting “Hard to port! Full sail! Get above them!”

The boom swung across the deck, sails snapping as they caught the wind full-on, and the ship jerked.

The boom rammed into one of Ekene’s archers, raptly watching the approaching eagles, knocking the breath out of him, and over the rail.

“Ewelike! Hang on!” shouted Captain Ekene, running over to grab the man’s lifeline. He started hauling him up, but the airship’s acceleration and the fallen man’s own gyrations made it difficult.

The eagles, dozens of them, attacked.

Screeching eagles, flurries of wings, twanging bows, shouts, screams... it was chaos.

The airship tilted up as it turned back over the Mohaggers, the deck a steep slope. Most of the archers slid across it, held only by their lifelines until they managed to grab hold of a railing or wall.

“Everyone into the cabin!” shouted de Palma. “Go, go, go!”

He joined Frija, shield on one arm to defend against the eagles and batter them when he had a chance, helping the archers make it to safety. Once they reached a railing they were able to drag themselves into the cabin.

With the exception of Ewelike, the man who’d been knocked overboard.

Captain Ekene finally managed to pull him back onto the deck as Bridok defending both of them with sword and shield, feet hooked into the airship’s railing to stop him from slipping.

Ewelike was unconscious, bow gone and quiver empty, his arms and face covered in blood. The eagles had attacked him viciously until they realized he was unconscious.

Brodok and Ekene grabbed him by his legs and dragged him to the cabin hatch, where de Palma helped pull him inside.

The hatch slammed shut, and the airship kept rising higher and higher as the eagles raged outside. With no-one to attack, they flew angry circles around the airship, screeching their displeasure until, finally, the airship flew higher than they could.

Regretfully, they drifted down from the heights, well above the highest of the Mohagger peaks, to return to their nests at Bleth.

They waited a little longer, and then carefully opened the cabin door.

The deck looked empty... he stepped out.

There was a scream of avian anger from behind him, and he dropped to the deck just in time as a huge eagle dove at him. It must have been hanging onto the cabin, or the boom, unable to fly but determined to wait him out.

It would have worked, too, except that it couldn’t keep its mouth shut and gave him the second’s warning he needed to evade, and thrust.

He missed the body of the eagle, slashing into its wing instead, but the eagle missed him.

Catching his breath, he checked the rest of the airship for more hidden threat, and found none.

The eagle, wing broken or cut, had spiraled out of control into the depths of the Mohaggers far below.

He sheathed his sword, returned the airship to an even keel, and headed south again, back toward Fort Danryce.

Ewelike was badly injured, one arm almost in ribbons, and everyone else had suffered from the eagles’ talons and beaks, not to mention bumps and scrapes as the airship maneuvered. Two of the archers had lost their bows, almost unthinkable for an archer.

The wyverns were nowhere to be seen.

 

* * *

 

After giving his shouted warning, Beorhtwig turned sharply, and kicked Flogdreka. “Fly, boy, fly! The eagles are coming!”

Flogdreka, understanding Beorhtwig’s urgency, or perhaps having seen the oncoming eagles, folded his wings up close to his body, stretched his neck out, and dove at full speed toward the Mohaggers. Beorhtwig leaned forward, grasping the harness with both hands and pressing his face to the wyvern’s neck.

Eagles could dive as fast as wyverns, but they started sooner, and higher... with luck they could get to safety. He caught a glimpse of Fæger: she was doing the same thing, diving as fast as she could after Flogdreka, but the archer riding her back was struggling to hang on, holding the harness with one hand and her bow with the other.

He hurriedly shifted his shield to cover his back, and then there was nothing he could do but hang on, and put his trust in the wyverns.

Flogdreka flashed past a peak almost close enough to touch, banking into a narrow gap between two more, always heading south. They were much lower now than before, weaving between the peaks and ridges with breathtaking speed.

The wyvern moved his very wingtips by microscopic amounts, and at their speed it was enough to control their direction, but in the denser air their speed was dropping fast.

Suddenly Flogdreka’s wings flared out, beating up and down, whishing and booming through the air. With each stroke his body leapt up in the air a bit, then down again.

Flying was more difficult now at the lower altitude, with more obstacles to avoid, and Beorhtwig risked another glance behind.

No sign of Fæger, but the pursuing eagles were closing fast.

He turned so that he was mounted in the saddle, feet in the stirrups, but facing backward—toward the attacking birds.

He swung, missed. An eagle swooped toward his head, talons out to catch an eye, and he ducked just in time, sword thrusting upward for his first kill even as another eagle raked across his exposed side, cutting deep.

He tried to turn, swinging blindly, and missed again.

An eagle was flying next to Flogdreka’s head, trying to tear his eyes out! They were being swarmed; there were too many of them...

The wyvern’s head suddenly darted up and to the side, mighty jaws closing on the eagle with a crunch and a final squawk.

More eagles were tearing at Flogdreka’s belly, his wings, his neck... a cloud of birds circling them in search of blood.

Hopelessly, he swung and swung again, toppling attacker after attacker out of the sky, until...

A black shape hurtled through his field of vision, dropping from above to dive past Flogdreka close enough to touch, smashing through the eagles to leave them fluttering and whirling through the air with broken wings.

Fæger!

She had dived down from above, using her speed and bulk to smash the birds away.

There was a boom from below as Fæger extended her wings, catching the air just short of the mountain face, and beating to rejoin them as they fled south.

The archer was still hanging on, both hands gripping the harness tightly, bow long gone. He couldn’t see her face, but at least she wasn’t covered in blood like he was.

The eagles, over half of their number dead, or fallen to the ground, circled and screamed in rage, unwilling to approach again, and eventually fell behind. The Lake of Sarnath appeared below them, and beyond it, still far, lay Fort Danryce.

Once the eagles stopped their pursuit, the wyverns eased off, exhausted by their flight, beating their wings as little as possible while taking advantage of the denser air near the lake’s surface. By the time they reached the lake’s far shore both wyverns were wobbling with exhaustion, wingtips touching the water now and again, only to be lifted again by sheer willpower driving them up and onward.

They made a bouncy landing on the muddy shore, still far from the fort, and collapsed.

He cut himself loose and tore his tunic in half, wrapping the cloth tightly around his side to stop the bleeding. He looked over at Fæger, and saw Ifechukwu painfully slide off, collapsing to the sand. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Let the eagles come, he thought. I’m done.

And they slept.

Chapter 11

“Airship approaching!” came the shout from the bell tower, and Captain Nadeen shaded her eyes to get a better look.

It was flying the red-and-gold scorpion pennant, so it was probably de Palma.

She turned to watch how the fort guards reacted, and was gratified to see them moving into defensive positions and getting ready, just in case the airship wasn’t who they thought it was.

As it drew closer and drew to a stop near the cliff wall, she could clearly see Aercaptain de Palma and Captain Ekene. She could also see that they were wounded, as were the archers, and the airship’s sails and pennant were slashed and torn.

She ran down the walkway to the cliff wall to greet them, arriving just as the guards caught the hawsers and moored the airship. The crew threw over the gangplank rope, and the wall guards pulled the gangplank over the gap. It was built like a suspension bridge, with planks for a floor, hanging from a cable above.

“Eagle attack,” said Captain Ekene shortly. “We’ve got to get the injured to the Healer right now.”

Nadeen called to her troopers.

“Dhaval, go warn Healer Dunchanti we’ve got injured coming, and ask Captain Ridhi to get some water boiled.

“Maiza, Erdene, get over there and see if anyone needs help.

“The rest of you, back to your stations! You’re on guard, troopers!”

She walked toward the stern.

“Aercaptain de Palma! Are you alright?”

He was sitting deck, looking blankly at the torn sails.

“I’m fine, Captain... just, uh, catching my breath. Wasn’t sure we’d make it back.”

“What happened?”

“Somehow, Thuba Mleen’s got trained eagles. A whole flock of them attacked us.”

“But you fought them off.”

“Not really. We can fly higher than they can, and I just got above them. They would have torn the airship into pieces if they’d had a chance.”

“What about Beorhtwig?”

“Beorhtwig!”

He shot to his feet, suddenly recalling the wyverns.

“They were chasing him, too! And the eagles can fly higher than they can! Maybe faster, too.

“I caught a glimpse of Flogdreka diving into the Mohaggers, but I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Damn! You have any idea where to look? We have to know what happened to them!”

“Mountains, forest, the lake... they could be anywhere.”

“Can you search from the air?”

“It’s the only way, but... not yet. I need to get new sails up.”

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”

“We have new sails onboard, but Bridok and Frija are both hurt. We’ll need help getting them raised right.”

Nadeen shouted down into the fort, where people had begun to gather, helping the wounded to the church where Healer Dunchanti waited.

“Get Captain Long! We need help up here!”

Captain Long’s twelve were back at the fort after a two-day patrol. In theory they could relax and do as they pleased today, but this had priority.

She figured most of them were still here, with probably fewer than half slipping off to Cadharna—or the growing castle town below—for more exciting R&R.

“I’m already here, Captain,” came his growl from the wall behind her. “My twelve’ll be here in a minute, those who aren’t off drinking or whoring.”

“The airship is mostly undamaged,” explained de Palma, “but the sails are badly torn, and they’ll rip even more if they catch the wind. We have to take them down for repair, and raise new ones.”

“How do you do that?” asked Long. “I’m happier on the desert than the sea...”

“I’ll show you, and the crew can crack the whip,” said Nadeen. “Aercaptain, show me where you keep the new ones and I’ll get things moving.”

He struggled to get up off the deck, and Nadeen grasped his arm to help.

“This way, Captain.”

He stepped back into the cabin and down into the hull.

“Careful, don’t step on the eagle,” he said, pointing to a bloody heap of feathers near the ladder. “One thought it could get in the solehole before we closed it. It got in, all right, but Clank took care of it.

“The sails are here, all the way in the back.

“We’ll have to open the topside cargo hatch to get them out, though. Long and heavy.”

He pointed out the sailcloth rolls, and the large hatch above. A spare mast was lashed to the other side, balancing the sails.

“And once we get the sails out of here we’ll have to balance that mast somehow... easiest thing to do would be to put the torn sails here for now, and worry about cleaning it all up later.”

“How long’s this gonna take?” asked Long.

“A full crew can do the whole thing in about an hour,” said de Palma, “but I think maybe three hours or so this time, no offense.”

“None taken,” laughed Long. “Let’s get to it.”

They began untying the ropes holding the sails in place.

“Clank? You up there?”

“Right here, Cap,” came Clank’s shout from the deck.

“Get the cargo hatch open, will you? Gonna get the sails out.”

“Yessir,” came the muffled response, and clattering footsteps sounded on the hatch above their heads. “Captain Long? There’s a bunch of your troopers here... where do you want ’em?”

“Send two down here,” called Long, “and put the rest of ’em to work up there.”

“Yessir. OK, you heard the man. You and you, downstairs,” continued Clank. “The rest of you help me get this damn hatch open!”

With Captain Long’s assistance, Aercaptain de Palma and the crew—even Bridok, who had a bandage wrapped around his head—managed to get the job done in only about two hours. Captain Ekene’s archers were gone, to see the Healer or just to rest, but Captain Long insisted on staying onboard when the Cavor took off again in search of the wyverns.

“They were flying due south when I last saw them,” said de Palma, “which would mean they cut right across the Lake of Sarnath, probably right near the gray rock of Akurion and drowned Sarnath. Depending on how hard the eagles pressed them, though, they could have ended up anywhere, even in Ib.”

“Rather not go to Ib or Sarnath if I can avoid it,” said Long. “Can wyverns swim?”

The other man shrugged.

“Hey, Harald!” called Long, “You’re from Daikos, right? Can wyverns swim?”

A youngish trooper with a long sword and a shield looked back from the railing, where he had been watching the scenery float by underneath.

“Swim, sir? No, not swim, but they float,” he explained. “If they get tired they can rest on the water, and take off again later. They can’t handle heavy seas, though, no waves.”

Long nodded and waved him off again.

“There’s an awful lot of ground to search,” said de Palma. “I’m going to head over the Akurion rock to start, and then north from there. Maybe trace the lake shore once.

“If we stay high enough we’ll be able to see quite a distance. Until dusk, anyway. Clear weather.”

“Sergeant Chen!”

A wiry, middle-aged woman trotted over.

“Get everyone spread out along the railings. We’re looking for the wyverns; might be on land or sea. Anyone sees anything, call it out.

“And keep an eye on the skies, too, in case those eagles come calling!”

“Yessir!”

She trotted off, getting the rest of Long’s twelve spaced out around the deck.

“You want me to send one down to the solehole?”

“No, Frija’s got it. A lot of troopers get upset looking straight down; she’ll handle it.”

The airship was quite high now, offering a view of the lake shore and the surrounding forest, with Akurion rock a bit farther away. The broad marshland hid Sarnath, and Ib was too far to see clearly.

The airship paused as troopers examined the shore and nearby fields for any signs of the wyverns.

“No sign of them, it looks like,” said de Palma. “OK, let’s head across the lake, then.”

“The wyverns can float, but Beorhtwig would prefer solid ground, I’m sure,” said Long. “How ’bout we check the shore in little farther, first?”

“OK with me,” agreed de Palma, turning west to bring them closer to Fort Danryce.

A few minutes later there was excitement at the prow.

“I think I see them!” called one of Long’s troopers, pointing. “There!”

Captain Long ran over to look for himself, pulling out his telescope.

“Aercaptain de Palma! That’s them all right!” he called. “Looks like they’re all sleeping... or hurt.”

The airship banked and turned, dropping rapidly. Long’s troopers slid along the deck, unprepared for the sudden tilt, grasping their lifelines with a new urgency.

The airship floated down to the ground, touching down on the beach with a whisper, and Captain Long leapt over the railing, followed by most of his twelve.

“Trooper! Trooper Beorhtwig!”

He knelt next to the fallen man.

“He’s got a bad wound in his side, looks like. Bandage is soaked with blood.”

“The archer’s pretty torn up, too,” added one of the troopers looking at the woman. “Both arms, neck, one leg... damn, those eagles don’t mess around!”

“Aercaptain de Palma! We have to get these two back to the fort!

“You, and you, and you three... get Beorhtwig and the archer—anyone know what her name is?— onto the airship now.

“Harald, you know anything about wyverns?”

“Never a wyver-master, but yeah, worked for a man who was.”

“Sergeant Chen! Stay here. I want your six to take care of the wyverns for now. Ask Harald what to do. I’ll be back later today with supplies, and hopefully someone who knows how to fix them up.”

Chen nodded.

“Talk to me, trooper!” she ordered Harald in her high-pitched, nasal voice. She might look and sound like a middle-aged shrew of a housewife, but the troopers in her six knew what she was capable of.

“Stop the bleeding, wash and cover the wounds to keep them clean, plenty of fresh water to drink, and kill a couple deer or something to get the healing started.”

“Good lad. You get started on fixing them up. Tell Calchas and Mahud what you need. Kassandros, you and Yafeu with me; we’re going hunting.”

Soon the airship lifted with Beorhtwig and the injured archer onboard, by which time Sergeant Chen had vanished into the woods and Harald was cleansing Flogdreka’s injuries.

 

* * *

 

“Airship approaching!”

The guard was expecting the Cavor to be back soon, but they manned the scorpions anyway. They knew Captain Nadeen would tear them new ones if they didn’t treat this like every other airship.

Fortunately, it was the Cavor, and Nadeen found nothing to complain about in their response.

She was far more worried about Beorhtwig and the archer, Ifechukwu. Normally Aercaptain de Palma would moor it in the air off the tower, or along the cliff wall, but he was in a hurry this time. He set it down on the parade ground a bit harder than he’d planned, but the flat bottom should be fine. He hoped.

Captain Long leapt to the ground and ran into the infirmary.

“Healer! Healer Dunchanti!”

The Healer came running.

“They got attacked by eagles. Talons and beaks, it looks like,” explained Long, pointing to the airship.

The crew had the ladder in place now.

“Wait,” called Dunchanti. “Let me see them first!”

He climbed up the ladder with Long close behind, and squatted down next to Beorhtwig. Placing his hand on the injured man’s side, he closed his eyes for a moment, then jumped up to squat down next to the archer.

“The eagle torn up his side pretty bad, but his organs—intestines, lungs—are OK, it looks like. The archer’s dead, I’m afraid... blood loss.”

“Dead...! But she was alive only a few minutes when we picked her up!”

“Too many wounds, too deep. Nothing you could have done to save her, and unless I get to Beorhtwig right now he may follow.

“Quickly, get him to the infirmary!”

“The wyverns are injured, too, Healer... I’ve got my people washing and bandaging their wounds now, but... I know nothing of wyverns.”

“Wyverns are tough, Captain. Keep ’em clean and well-fed; they’ll be fine.

“Now get out of my way... Beorhtwig needs me right now.”

He rushed off after the stretcher-bearers, vanishing into the infirmary.

“Dammit!” spat Long. “Kassandros, you get to the barracks. Find Ginette. She knows something about healing wyverns. Yafeu, hit the mess hall and see if she’s there. Same thing. I’m off to check with the Commander and Captain Nadeen.”

He turned to de Palma.

“Aercaptain, can you handle one more trip out to the lake and back? Just to drop us and some more supplies.”

“Of course, Captain. You need help getting set?”

“Thank you, yes. If you could send someone to see Captain Ridhi, and get supplies for my twelve for one day.”

“Only one?”

“Only one. I’m going to have the rest sent out by horse, so we can get back here easily... I think your airship might be busy for a while.”

The captain nodded. “Clank! You hear all that?”

“Yessir.”

“Captain Long, you’ll handle the horses and other supplies?”

“I’ll talk to the Commander about it,” replied Long. “Thanks.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” de Palma demanded of Clank. “Off with you, man!”

Clank ran off toward the kitchen.

Captain Long turned to go in search of the Commander, and saw him walking toward them.

“Captain, I was in the library. What happened?”

Long filled him in quickly, explaining that he was heading back to the wyverns as soon as the supplies were ready.

“I’m only taking enough for a day, and need to have another week’s worth brought out by horse. We can set up a hunting schedule there, and if we have horses we can stay in touch with you easily. It’s only about two, maybe three hours tops.”

“On the shore, west of Akurion, right?”

“I’d guess about two klicks west; we can just see it in the distance. In any case, on the shore, so we’ll be easy to find.”

“I’ll take care of it. Captain Chinh is patrolling the grassland tomorrow, and I’ll just have him escort your stuff there first. Have to get a new patrol schedule drawn up, though, if your twelve is going to be stuck there for a week...”

“Sorry, Commander. With Captain Serilarinna where she is, and now us stuck up on the lake, you’re going to be short-handed for a while...”

“Do you know what Seri’s situation is? Anything?”

“Nothing... Beorhtwig is unconscious, and de Palma says they were on station but invisible to him.”

“Eagles, huh?” mused Jake. “And you say Seri’s people were down in the rocks... that’s sounds safer than flying around with eagles attacking, but I wish we had more information... Damn!

“Alright, get back to the wyverns. If there’s anyone here that knows anything about healing them, take them with you—I’ll tell whoever needs to know. And your supplies will be there by noon tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Commander. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Go, Captain. You have things to do,” ordered Jake. “Aercaptain de Palma! You have a minute?”

Jake clambered up the ladder, meeting the sergeant at the top.

“Of course, Commander... We’re just waiting for Captain Long to finish, and then we’re off again.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Not much to tell, really... We had a flash from Captain Serilarinna that said they were in position and watching, but we couldn’t see them at all. They were on a mountain overlooking Bleth, but the last we saw of them they were on the far side from the fort. I don’t know how they got around to the near side; the flash was from the far side.

“After we got the flash we drifted a little closer to Bleth so we could get a better look straight down, instead of from an angle, and I guess we got too close because they released a flock of trained—I assume trained; maybe they were just hungry and pissed—eagles at us. Beorhtwig gave us a little warning, but they were right on us. Must have been three, four dozen, I’d guess.

“I can fly higher than eagles so I put the airship into a steep climb and got everyone into the cabin. And since eagles can fly higher and faster than Beorhtwig, he had no choice but to dive and try to shake them off.

“He and the wyverns are still alive so I guess it worked. Archer’s dead, though.”

“But you don’t know if they attacked Captain Serilarinna or not?”

“We were too busy trying to get away, sorry.”

“Damn damn damn!” snapped Jake. “I hope they’re OK.

“Aercaptain, your airship is torn up pretty badly, too, and you’re injured. How long do you think it’ll be until you’re ready to go back out?”

De Palma thought for a moment.

“We can make a short run any time, I think, but ship and crew both need two days of rest, I think. I want the Healer to take a look at our injuries when he gets a chance, but Trooper Ewelike was hurt the worst.”

“Ewelike?”

“One of Captain Ekene’s archers. He’s already in the infirmary.”

Jake nodded.

“The sails need to be secured properly and the whole ship needs to be checked for damage, but the eagles didn’t get a chance to do too much damage... they tore the sails to ribbons, but couldn’t do much to the ship herself in such a short time. Have to check it all, though.”

“Thank you, Aercaptain. Oh, here’s Captain Long.”

Nadeen was walking next to him.

“Commander, one of my troopers named Ginette is from Daikos, and her father was a wyver-master. She has experience in healing them.”

“Good. Any problem cutting her loose for a week or so? To help Captain Long and the wyverns?”

“Of course not. She’s in Sergeant Petter’s six, up on the wall right now. I’ll get her.”

She walked over to the postern and called up to the guards on duty above.

“Tell Trooper Ginette to report to me immediately!”

“Yessir!” came the reply from the wall, and one of the guards ran off toward the corner scorpion.

Ginette, a thirtyish-looking woman with her long, brown hair hanging in a single braid behind, came running.

“Captain?”

“You’ve some experience with healing wyverns, right?”

“Yessir. But only on the farm.”

“Our wyverns are both down and need help. Go get your ruck; you’re temporarily re-assigned to Captain Long. You need anything from the Healer, or the Alchemist?”

“Uh, what sort of injuries?”

“They got into a fight with a bunch of eagles,” explained Long.

“Talons and beaks, so no poison... Yeah, I need to talk to the Alchemist.”

“Go. If you need help grab someone. Double-time!”

She left at a run.

“How are Beorhtwig and the archer doing?”

“The Healer’s still working, but he said they’re probably safe,” said Nadeen. “Ewelike might lose an eye, looks like. Ekene’s staying with him.”

Kassandros showed up next, followed almost immediately by Clank with two of Ridhi’s people in tow. Kassandros had no luck at the barracks, but Clank brought gear and supplies for the twelve.

“Enough for two days at least,” he said. “Last longer if we get any hunting done. Captain Ridhi’s putting together the rest now.”

“Good. Captain Chinh can take that out in the morning,” said Long. “Get those supplies onboard.”

Clank popped open a hatch built into the sloping side of the airship and began loading.

“Did you see Yafeu?” asked Long.

“No sir. Want me to go look?”

“No, it’s good, trooper. Take five,” ordered Long.

Ginette returned with Yafeu and Captain Ridhi.

“No problem getting everything ready,” said Ridhi, “but I’m afraid nobody knows anything about wyverns. Have you checked with the Bagatur?”

“Damn! No, I haven’t,” said Long. “Still... Ibizim lizards are not wyverns. I wonder how much they could help.”

“Worth asking,” said Jake. “Khasar’s out on patrol. When he gets back tonight I’ll find out, and if they have anyone who might help I’ll send them out with Chinh in the morning. Good?”

“Good. Thanks.”

A few minutes later they were ready to go.

Long’s troopers, Aercaptain de Palma and his crew, and Trooper Ginette from Nadeen’s twelve climbed aboard and the airship rose into the sky.

 

* * *

 

“How are they, Healer?”

“Stable for now, Commander,” replied Healer Dunchanti. “Beorhtwig is once again a remarkably lucky man... it looks like he’ll be walking wounded for a few weeks, but should heal.”

“And the archer, Ewelike?”

“If the rot doesn’t set in he should wake up soon, but I think he’ll be blind in one eye.”

“The rest of the archers managed to get into the cabin quickly, and have only minor injuries,” said Captain Ekene, “but Ewelike fell overboard. Got savaged pretty badly.”

“Lucky thing he had his lifeline.”

“If he survives...” said Ekene.

“Sorry to hear you lost the archer with Beorhtwig.”

“Thank you. Her name was Ifechukwu, and she was a magnificent archer. Still only about twenty, I believe... a waste.”

“Something else to add to Thuba Mleen’s bill,” said Jake quietly. “And we’ll collect soon enough.”

A few of Ridhi’s staff were working alongside Dunchanti’s acolytes, cleansing and binding wounds. The Healer himself worked on wounds that looked unusually deep, or serious, but Ewelike and Beorhtwig occupied most of his time.

Most of the injured had already left, back to the barracks to rest or the kitchen to beg for handouts.

Nadeen showed up a little later, and found him sitting on a bench in the church, looking blankly at one of the new glass windows. She stood behind him, massaging his shoulders.

“What do you suppose the stained glass windows showed, originally?” he asked.

She cocked her head, following his gaze.

“We still don’t know who built this church, do we? I mean, pretty clearly the last people to use it before us were some sort of Nyogtha worshippers, but did they build it?”

“Hmm. And the church is connected to that underground city. The lizard people built it, and that tunnel. My guess is that this church was built long before Nyogtha came... but surely it wasn’t a church!”

“It wasn’t?”

“They had a whole city down there, why bother to dig a tunnel all the way up here and just build a little church? Something doesn’t add up.”

Her massaging hands paused.

“It does seem a little strange, doesn’t it? Hadn’t really thought about it before...”

Jake stood up suddenly, and called to Dunchanti.

“Healer, I have to go, but send a runner to me if anything changes.”

“Of course, Commander. Your quarters?”

“Yes.”

“Nadeen, can you leave the guard to Sergeant Petter and join me? Or later?”

“Let me tell Petter to take over, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said. “He should be on the cliff wall.”

Just as she was about to leave the infirmary a shout came from the main gate: “Riders approaching!”

Nadeen and Jake trotted to the main gate, which was open as usual. The guards had already dropped the counterbalanced pole that served as a simple gate during the day. It wasn’t designed to prevent entry in times of war, but it stopped anyone from riding through easily. Once the gate guards had checked, they’d lift the pole and let the visitors ride through the gate, under the wall. The wall itself had two massive defensive gates—heavy wood covered by steel plate—but they were normally left open.

It was a party of five. One of them, an older warrior by his looks, dismounted to approach the gate while the others waited on horseback. His longsword was sheathed, of course.

“Mikhail Stepanchikov, sergeant of Celephaïs, escorting Artificer Muzaffer of Celephaïs and his assistants.”

“Sergeant Stepanchikov, Artificer Muzaffer, I am Jake, Commander of Fort Danryce,” he said, stepping forward to greet Stepanchikov with the standard wristshake.

The others dismounted as Jake came toward them.

“Muzaffer of Celephaïs,” said the architect, a gray-haired man with glasses and a paunch. “And my assistants, Sefika and Fron,” he added, waving his hand at the black-haired woman standing next to him, and the freckled, red-haired man behind her.

“Jake of Penglai,” he introduced himself, then turned to the fourth rider, a young man standing at the rear. He had a cutlass at his side and a crossbow on the saddle, Jake noticed.

“Talib of Xura.”

Jake greeted him, and waved the party through the main gate.

“Artificer, we’ve been expecting you. You must be tired from your journey.”

He led around the church, past the armory, to the barracks.

“The barracks are here; a room has been put aside for you. The bath is at your service, and Horsemaster Turan will take care of your steeds. The mess hall is over there,” he said, pointing, “and the kitchen is at your service.”

“Sergeant Stepanchikov, will you be staying?”

“The trooper and I would leave in the morn,” replied the other. “The King’s business awaits.”

“I guarantee the safety of the Artificer and his assistant,” promised Jake. “I will have Captain Ridhi provide you with trail food in the morning.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Jake turned to the artificer.

“After you have bathed and eaten, please have Captain Ridhi show you to the library, where you can find maps of the fort and immediate region, as well as paper and quill. I will join you there.”

The artificer grunted and entered the barracks, followed by his two assistants.

Jake walked back to his residence, juggling priorities in his head.

The artificer—here for the sewerage and water supplies of the “castle town” below the cliff, and the two temples, had arrived at a most inconvenient time. His wyverns were injured, maybe badly; a number of his troopers were dead, injured, or otherwise unavailable; Seri was in enemy territory, out of touch, and possibly attacked by the same eagles that savaged the wyverns and the airship.

And even if the wyverns recovered, his only wyver-master was lying unconscious, in Healer Dunchanti’s hands.

Back at his residence-cum-office, he picked up the chunks of carnelian and chalcedony that Stonemaster Buka had given him. The carnelian was dull orange at one end and bright crimson at the other, while the chalcedony was a light, almost transparent blue. Buka said he’d look into supply, but didn’t expect too much trouble getting the necessary blocks for the temples. Transport would take a lot of time and trouble: carts drawn by either horses or deinos, which meant improving the roads between the fort and the quarries.

They would be impressive temples, though, especially if accented by less-exotic stone in gray or black, he thought. He’d leave the design up to Muzaffer and the Godsworn, within reason... after all, the King and the temples were paying for most of it between them.

He did want them done as soon as reasonable, though, done and functional, even if minor work continued longer. Hell, they could keep fiddling forever if they liked, as far as he was concerned!

But he wanted them open now.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” said Nadeen as she entered. “Have you told the artificer about them yet?”

“No, he’s cleaning up,” said Jake. “I asked him to join me in the library once he’s refreshed. Him, you, Ridhi... anyone else?”

“The Godsworn?”

“I was thinking we should put that off a bit... I want to be sure the architect and I see eye-to-eye first, and then I can let him get started talking to Dunchanti and Rorkaln. They’ll need totally different temples, and having them in two ‘different but equally beautiful’ colors will hopefully keep fights to a minimum.”

“The Healer will want an infirmary, and Rorkaln a school, but other than that they’ll be pretty much the same, won’t they?”

“I think so, but I have no idea what they might demand other than the usual living quarters and kitchen and whatnot. Could get complicated.”

“The Temple of Nath-Horthath in Celephaïs doesn’t have anything unusual that I’ve seen, but it’s enormous. Could have lots of stuff hidden away. And I know they’ve got rooms underground, too.”

“Never been in a temple to Panakeia?”

“Not really,” said Nadeen. “I’ve taken wounded there but never paid much attention to what’s inside... I was more concerned with the troopers.”

Jake nodded. He’d done the same countless times, in this world and that.

“When are you going to tell the artificer about your real plans?”

“I’m not sure I will,” said Jake. “Let’s keep that just between us for now... it won’t affect his drawings any.”

Nadeen nodded.

“I’m really wondering if Seri needs help right now... still no word on her twelve.”

“She’ll be fine,...” said Nadeen “The eagles were after the airship and the wyverns, not her.”

“You hope.”

“Yeah, I hope. And so do you,” she agreed. “She’s fine.”

“Well, let’s go talk to this artificer. Chuang said he’s the perfect man for the job, but I’m not Chuang.”

Nadeen smiled. “No, you most certainly are not.”

They walked over to the main building, and instead of using an entrance closer to the library, where they were to meet Muzaffer, Jake walked through the bakery, picking up a fresh-baked roll as he passed. Ridhi wasn’t there, which was probably the only reason he thought he could get away with it, but the baker looked similarly unimpressed. Not much he could say to the commander, though.

“Can’t beat fresh-baked bread, buttered or not,” he said. “Want a bite?”

“Smells delicious, but no. I don’t want Ridhi jumping me.”

Jake laughed and swallowed the evidence as he stuck his head into the kitchen.

“Captain Ridhi here?”

“No, Commander. She’s in the infirmary. Shall I call her?”

“No, but please ask her to join us in the library at her convenience.”

“Yessir.”

“Thank you. And we’ll need a big pot of tea, at least for six, please,” he said, and turned to go into the atrium, eyeing another roll wistfully as he passed. They went along the covered walkway to the library. It was still empty.

The library had few real books, but did boast an enormous scroll rack full of rolled maps. On one wall was a large map of the surrounding region, ruled off into a grid that helped locate detailed area maps.

Jake pulled out the detailed maps of the fort and the area below the cliff, as well as rough maps of the area stretching from Fort Danryce to Cadharna.

A small table in the corner held Valda’s mapmaking supplies. Jake helped himself to a few sheets of paper and a few pieces of red and black chalk. From his wallet he carefully took out a long, thin rod, holding it up for a closer look.

“What did you call that?” asked Nadeen. “A pencil?”

“Yup. It’s just clay and graphite; the hard part was finding graphite! Chóng took care of that for us, but of course won’t tell me where he got it. This is still a prototype from Mintran, and I thought I’d let the artificer try it out. He’s used to chalk, but the pencil lets him draw much thinner, cleaner lines.

“This one’s still a bit wobbly, though... need to match the lead and the wood better.”

“Why didn’t the King or someone make this long ago?”

“No idea... maybe he prefers pen and ink. Ink’s more permanent, for sure, but for notes and messages pencils are much better. Easier to use, too: no ink!”

Ridhi came in carrying a tray with a large teapot and half a dozen cups.

“Commander, Captain Nadeen. I came as soon as I could,” she apologized, setting the tray down and taking a seat.

“No apology needed, Ridhi. How are they?”

“Stable. Healer Dunchanti is with them almost all the time; has my kitchen boiling water for him right now.”

“Which reminds me,” said Jake. “Nadeen, we have to get that still built. Not only for alcohol, but for water, too!”

“We’re still waiting on tubing from Einar, but the mail has priority. You want to change that?”

“No, get the mail jackets done first. Especially now with our air force out of action.”

“I agree. We’ve gotten along with quills this long; a little longer won’t hurt.”

“Can I have one of those, too?” asked Ridhi. “I think it’d be pretty useful. Ink and chalk are great, but can also be very awkward.”

“Sure,” smiled Jake, and pulled another one out of his wallet. “Careful, they still break easily. Next batch’ll be a lot better.”

“Commander, Artificer Muzaffer,” came a voice from the door.

The artificer and his assistants stepped into the library, and Jake gestured them to chairs at the table.

Nadeen poured the tea and handed the cups out.

“We call it the library, but it’s really just a map room,” explained Jake, waving at the scrolls lining the wall. “We’re making detailed maps of the entire region—the region up there in that big map.”

“The grid corresponds to more detailed maps?” asked Muzaffer, sipping his tea.

“Yes, precisely.”

“Much the same way we handle architectural drawings,” nodded the artificer. “Very sensible.”

Jake pulled over the maps of the fort and immediate region.

“You’ve already seen a little of the area on foot, and of course you’ll be able to see it all yourself at any time, but I thought a short chat with these maps might be a good way to start. No mosquitoes.”

“I’ve been bitten so many times I don’t even notice them anymore,” said Muzaffer. “Poor Sefika is still tender, though.”

He adjusted his glasses and turned the map to be able to read the notations more easily, as Sefika craned her neck closer to see.

“Hmm, hmm... I see the fort has changed quite a bit since this map was made,” he said. “I heard about the battle. You were very lucky.”

“Yes, we were,” agreed Jake. “All in all, though, I think we came out of it better than they did. And the towers will make it much harder to attack next time. We wanted to dig a moat, maybe put up a palisade, but the fort was deliberately built on rock, probably to prevent tunneling. We’d have to either expand the fort quite a bit, moving the outer wall to around here so we have enough dirt to dig in, or spend an awful lot of time cutting holes into the bedrock.”

“Hmm, hmm. Yes, and a larger fort would in turn demand more defensive men and fortifications. Are you expecting a new attack?”

“Not really, but nobody knows what Thuba Mleen may do. And he certainly doesn’t like us,” chuckled Jake. “Not after what we did to him the first time.”

“I recognized the style of the main gate,” said the artificer. “That’s Takatora’s work, is it not?”

“It is. He worked with us for some time after the attack, not only on the gates and towers.”

“But not me.”

Jake tensed. Maybe this artificer wasn’t going to be that easy to work with after all.

“Master Chuang recommended you as the best architect for the growing town, stressing that you would be the ideal choice since we can start from the bottom up. If we start now we can not only build sewerage and water supply, but lay out the entire town properly... he said you were the only artificer he know who could handle such a complex task.”

That should do it. I wish Chuang had warned me he needed careful handling, though.

Muzaffer pushed his glasses up on his nose again.

“Hmph. Yes, I am. Of course Chuang knows that.”

“I would be honored if you would share your suggestions for improving the fort’s defenses, Artificer, but that can wait until after the town design has been completed. It is growing daily, and if we don’t start soon I fear we may not be able to build it properly. It would be a waste to have to abandon parts of your design because someone has built a shack there...”

“Of course, of course,” he muttered. “Let me see these maps now...”

He studied the maps, conversing with Sefika and Fron in low tones before turning to Jake again.

“This stream... where does it come from? The Mohagger Mountains, I assume?”

“Yes, one of several. It eventually flows into the River Mnar. We don’t know where the source of the well is, though.”

“This map shows another one here, and another here,” said Muzaffer, tapping the map. “Are these different streams?”

“Yes, they all come from the mountains, but they merge farther downstream, in the grassland.”

“We’ll need all three. And it should be high enough that gravity will keep the water moving though the town, which means north of the fort. You’ll need at least one cistern. It has to provide drinking water, water for the baths, and also keep the sewage moving. That’s a lot of water, even if you do only expect a grand dozen or so.”

“We have no idea what this town may grow into,” said Ridhi. “A dozen dozens is a minimum; it could be several times larger, especially once the temples are completed.”

“The more people you have living here, the larger the town will be, and the more water you’ll need,” explained the artificer. “Any more streams or rivers you can tap?”

“There are many streams issuing from the mountains,” said Nadeen. “Let us check to see how easy it might be to use them.”

“Good. You mentioned temples.”

“Yes,” said Jake, and pointed to the rock samples. “My stonemaster suggested these for the two temples, but we need to discuss this with the Godsworn—”

“These are fine,” snapped Muzaffer. “No need to seek their approval.”

“I... uh, perhaps we should...”

“One of blue chalcedony, one of red carnelian. Very pretty.”

“Yes, and I was thinking that an accent of—”

“I’m the architect, Commander. I’ll handle the design.”

“Yes, of course. Subject to my approval, Artificer Muzaffer.”

“Your approval!? You would judge my work!?”

“This is my fort and my town, Artificer. I will judge your work, and you will consult me on design issues, or you will not design anything at all. Are we clear?”

Jake’s voice was calm and his pose relaxed, but his eyes held steady even as Muzaffer shifted his eyes in search of escape.

“Artificer, are we clear?”

“...Yes, Commander,” finally came the muttered acquiescence.

“Thank you, Artificer Muzaffer,” said Jake. He took a sheet of paper and picked up his pencil to jot down some notes about the water supply. “How much water do you believe we require?”

The Artificer was staring at Jake’s hand.

“What is that? Is looks like a stilus...”

Jake looked at the pencil in surprise.

“Why, yes. We call it a pencil. We’re just starting to make them...”

“May I see it?”

He held out his hand.

“Sure, here,” said Jake, handing over the pencil and some paper.

“Careful, that’s a prototype and still fragile. The next bunch will be much stronger.”

Muzaffer ignored him, sketching lines and arcs on the paper. He pressed a little too hard and the lead snapped off. He stared at it, a frown on his face.

Jake pulled out his dagger and held his hand out for the pencil.

“Let me sharpen it.”

Taking it from the artificer, he quickly sharpened the end and handed it back.

“This is wonderful!”

“Keep it,” said Jake, although it was pretty clear that the architect had claimed it already. “So, we need to bring the streams together on higher ground somewhere. A dam? A reservoir?”

“A dam would give you much more flexibility,” said Muzaffer. “but also takes considerably more time to construct properly. This close to the mountains I suspect you don’t have much trouble with flooding... do you? Or has this area below the cliffs ever been flooded?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” said Jake. “I can check with the Reeve of Cadharna on that.”

He made a note.

“Do you require a defensive wall around the town?”

“Only a simple one, I think... Thuba Mleen is after us, not the town, and we cannot fortify it enough to actually protect it from his attack. A wall for wild beasts and thieves should be sufficient; if necessary the townspeople would take refuge here.”

“Let us look at the land tomorrow and see,” said the artificer. “Have the Godsworn brought in now, if you would. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Jake exchanged looks with Nadeen and Ridhi.

This architect was going to be a pain to work with, it seemed.

Chapter 12

“So what’s the story with all those birds we saw?” wondered Seri. “Looked like a black cloud flying up from Bleth.”

“Those eagles?” said Kareem. “They have a big bird coop over there on the east side—that building with the reddish roof—but we never knew what was inside. All very hush-hush.”

“So, what, they just escaped?”

“They were after something,” said Yargui. “They were in a flock, which eagles never do, and headed in the same direction. I think they went after the airship, or the wyverns.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to see them from here, anyway, but they’re supposed to be around here somewhere,” mused Seri. “So instead of a new airship or wyverns Thuba Mleen has a bunch of trained eagles... Think they’re intelligent?”

“I hope not! Angry eagles are dangerous enough when they’re just birds; an intelligent one would be even more deadly!”

“And he’s got flocks of them... I hope our air force was alright up there!”

“Nothing we can do about it here,” said Seri. “Just keep watching the fort.”

Over the last day they’d gained a considerable amount of information about the fort: not only detailed maps of the areas they could see plus what Kareem remembered, but also information on how many troopers came and went, guard rotation schedules, a food delivery, and more. Another couple days and they’d have a very good understanding of what was down there, and be able to come up with a plan to defeat it.

Nobody expected trained eagles, though, and they were still worried about being spotted from the air.

 “Damn, Thuba Mleen is smart. Or tricky. Or whatever. First he steals an airship, then gets a pair of wyverns, and hides a Flayed One inside a horse, and now trained eagles!

“What else does he have up his sleeve?”

“I was never called to the palace, but the rumors are pretty wild,” said Kareem. “Some of them were pretty hard to believe, like pet dholes and shantaks. I figured they were all just wild talk, but after that Flayed One I’m beginning to wonder...”

“And we’re not getting much intel from the King, either... I think he gets more from us!”

Kareem nodded.

“Gold runs uphill, shit rolls down.”

Seri laughed.

“Truth, truth!”

Suddenly she straightened up, and shifted her telescope.

“There, the west gate... something’s coming out of the main building.”

Kareem turned his own telescope as directed, scanning.

“Looks like some sort of carriage, or at least a cart with a roof.”

“Team of four horses, though, which is pretty unusual for a cart... it’s something heavy, or valuable.”

“Too hard to see much from above like this... wish we could get lower.”

“I don’t think it’s possible,” said Seri. “And the closer we got, the more likely they’d be to spot us. I’d rather not get a flock of eagles up my ass, thank you very much.”

“Mmm,” agreed Kareem, still studying the growing column below. “More troopers, on horseback. I think it must be something valuable, then. Or someone.”

“They’re forming up now... looks like the guard is two full twelves, plus that carriage and three, no four, other horses near the carriage. Any ideas?”

“With a guard of twenty-four troopers I’d guess it’s one of Thuba Mleen’s lieutenants, but it’s impossible to tell from here.”

“Where’s he off to?”

“The palace, I’d guess, but could be almost anywhere, really. Bleth isn’t their only fort.”

“Can you make out the pennant on the carriage?”

“Nah, too far and not enough wind... whatever it is, it’s got a lot of purple, though.”

“Purple? Means nothing to me.”

“Me, neither... don’t recall seeing any with purple when I was there.”

“I’ll make a note and we’ll just have to ask the Commander when we get back.”

They watched the column pass through the gate, and vanish down the road to the north. To Thuba Mleen’s palace? Or into the wastes of the Eastern Desert, where the Emperor of the Sands held sway?

They had no way of knowing.

There was a scuffle behind them and they turned to see Yargui coming back from the camp. She was due to relieve Kareem.

They filled Yargui in on the column that had just left, and then Kareem slipped back to the camp, a few hundred meters away in a well-hidden location, leaving Yargui in his place. Her eyesight was exceptional but unfortunately the purple pennant was long gone.

 

* * *

 

The Cavor drifted down to the shore, landing without a whisper.

Captain Long shook his head—de Palma was an incredible pilot.

Sergeant Chen walked over to greet him as Long stepped down, followed by his men with the supplies.

“Captain. We’ve got a rough camp set up, and should have weather tarps over the wyverns shortly. No problems, sir.”

“Good work, Sergeant, thank you,” said Long. “Trooper Ginette is on loan from Captain Nadeen’s twelve. She’s from Daikos and might be able to help. Trooper, go on. If you need help, ask the Sergeant or myself.”

Ginette nodded, and trotted to the closet wyvern, Fæger.

The wyvern was awake but lying very still. Trooper Harald had apparently finished his work on Flogdreka already, and had started working on Fæger

“Ginette of Daikos, from Captain Nadeen’s twelve,” she introduced herself. “Clean water?”

“Harald of Daikos. Of course; boiled and cooled. They’re boiling more now, but we really need a bigger pot.”

“I brought one; it’s on the airship. Let me get it set up. Be right back.”

She ran back to the Cavor and shouted up to the crew.

“Throw down that cauldron, Trooper Clank!”

“In a minute,” came his reply from above, followed by thumping footsteps.

He stuck his head out over the railing.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?”

He lifted it over the railing and let it drop to the dirt below with a thump.

It was cast iron, a half-sphere some forty centimeters in diameter, black handle to lift or hang it by, and three stubby legs.

“Whatcha need the pot for?” he asked.

“Boiling water,” she answered. “Lots of water”

She grasped the pot with both hands, grunting as she lifted it, and carried it toward Long’s camp and the fire.

One of Long’s troopers saw her coming and walked over to meet her.

“Yafeu of Zar,” he said, stretching out a hand to take some of the weight.

“Ginette of Daikos. To the fire, trooper.”

They set it down close to the fire, where a smaller cookpot was steaming away already.

“You’ll need a stronger support for that thing,” said Yafeu. “We’ve got some poles cut already for the tarps; let me go get a few.”

“Thank you, trooper. It’ll be a lot heavier once we fill it up, so nice, thick poles. Or I can go cut some.”

“No problem,” he smiled, turning to the other troopers. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Would you? I’ve gotta get back to the wyverns...”

“Yeah, go,” he said. “Hey, Mahud, Kassandros! Gimme a hand, would ya?”

Two men looked up at their names.

“Gotta get a trestle set up for this baby,” explained Yafeu, pointing at the cauldron. “Gonna need some pretty thick poles.”

Mahud looked at the cauldron and shook his head.

“Dumb fuck. Just tie three of those together and they’ll be fine.”

Yafeu looked where the other man was pointing.

“Well, yeah, I guess they will,” he agreed. “Still upset because I roll dice better than you, huh?”

“I’ll win it back tonight, no problem. I don’t get upset when morons have a lucky streak.”

“Hah! You wish!”

“Maybe you guys can help me get those poles lashed up and stop squabbling?” asked Kassandros. “Might as well be married to each other, the way you go at it. Neither one of you can roll worth a damn anyway...”

“And fuck you too, Kassandros!” laughed Mahud, picking up a cut pole and checking it for strength. “This one’ll do fine. You got one?”

“Yup, here’s two.”

“And three,” said Yafeu. “Hold ’em and I’ll lash ’em up.”

They had the poles lashed into a single, solid length shortly.

“Now have to get two trestles built. Where’s that axe?”

Yafeu pointed over to where the wood-cutter’s axe was resting against a pile of firewood. “Whaddya think, one-and-a-half, two meters? Half in the ground.”

“Yeah, should be fine,” agreed Mahud. “Why didn’t anyone bring a saw?”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” sniped Kassandros, punching the other in the shoulder. “If you had any muscle this sort of thing wouldn’t bother you.”

They had the trestles built and the cauldron hanging over the fire shortly. After that, filling it with water was a simple matter.

Ginette and Harald, meanwhile, continued to clean Fæger’s wounds. There was very little dirt in them, but there was no way of telling what might have been on the eagles talons and beaks.

“Look at this!” gasped Ginette, reaching out to pick up something shiny from a wound. “It’s a steel... What in the...? It’s a steel sheath, for the eagle’s talons!”

Half covered in blood, the steel sheath was about eight centimeters long, with a knife-like cutting edge and a needle-sharp point.

Harald whistled.

“Damn! Never seen one of those before... no wonder the wyverns are so cut up!”

Ginette poured a little water on the sheath, rinsing it cleaner.

“I think the Captain needs to see this, too. Later.”

She dropped it in her pocket and they got back to washing out the wounds.

“Look at this slash!” said Harald as he washed blood away from Fæger’s thigh. “Must be at least thirty centimeters long, and looks deep.”

“Wow, that’s ugly! Can she still move her leg?”

“Can’t tell... she hasn’t tried to move anything much since I’ve been here,” he replied. “It’s in a bad place; might have cut a tendon.”

“I think she needs stitches...”

“Mmm. Me too. You ever stitched wyvern-hide before?”

“A few times. It’s hard work.”

“I saw someone doing it once. They needed an awl and mallet to punch with.”

“Must not have known what he was doing,” said Ginette. “If you pull a scale it’s a lot easier. Still hard work, but you can usually punch through with just a sharp point. Never seen a wyvern with hide that needed an awl!”

Harald stepped back, waving her forward.

“She’s all yours. I’ll just watch this one.”

Ginette finished washing the wound and examined it more closely.

“If she doesn’t use this leg for a while I think just a couple stitches is enough. Won’t hold under her weight, but if she lets it heal for a few days it should work.

“I brought a set of pliers to pull the scales, but we’ll need some leather lacing for the stitch.”

“I don’t have any, but somebody’s always got some. Comes in handy.”

“Go ahead; I’ll work on the other wounds for now.”

Harald turned to look around the camp.

“Sergeant! Sergeant Chen!”

“What, trooper?” came the high-pitched answer. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

“Leather lacing, Sarge. We have to sew one up.”

“Check my ruck. Right side bottom pocket.”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

“And don’t use it all!”

“I’ll be sure to tell Trooper Ginette, Sarge.”

The sergeant nodded and turned back to getting the overhead tarps set up.

Harald found her ruck and opened the bottom right pocket, pulling out a coil of leather cord.

“Ginette, got the cord, but it’s pretty thick... whatcha think?”

She looked at it, picking it up for a closer look.

“I’d be happier with real braided cord, but this’ll have to do. It’s a little bigger than what I use to use, but I think if we cut this down anymore it’d be too weak to hold the wound closed.”

“No way this’d be strong enough if we cut it narrower,” agreed Harald, “but isn’t braided cord even bigger?”

“Not if it’s braided right,” said Ginette. “Anyway, let’s do this.”

She used her pliers to work eight scales free, slowly rocking them back and forth and gradually loosening them before finally pulling them out.

She took a packet from her wallet, and removed two small balls of something, which she rubbed into the wound.

“Medicine?”

“Snake Tears. It’s a mixture of honey, ginger and a few other things. Helps prevent infection,” she said, taking out her dagger.

“Ah. Isn’t the wyvern gonna get angry if you stab it?”

“Nah,” said Ginette. “She knows we’re trying to help her.”

She twisted her dagger to make the first hole, and pushed one end of the cord through.

Leaving it hanging, she opened the second hole on the other side of the wound.

“OK, I need you to push the wound up from the bottom while I make the stitch. We’ll pull it tighter later, but give it a little pressure now while I run the cord through.”

Harald squatted down next to the wyvern and put his hands on the animal’s flank, then pushed up with steady force, holding the wound almost closed.

Ginette bent over him, quickly punching more holes and lacing the cord through loosely.

“Now we have to try to get the wound closed all the way. You push and I’ll pull the cord tighter.”

“Go ahead,” he said with a grunt, pushing up with all his strength.

The wound was completely closed, and Ginette quickly adjusted the leather cord, pulling it tighter and then tying it tightly.

“That’s good for now,” she said, breathing heavily. “It’ll need some tightening later, though.”

The stitch was ugly, but the wound was shut.

They moved onto the next one. The wyvern was a gigantic beast, and it would take them hours to finish.

“Remind me never to let you stitch me up, Trooper.”

Ginette turned to see Captain Long examining her work.

“Sorry, sir... best I could do here.”

“It’ll do, it’ll do fine. Good work, you two.”

The Captain walked around the wyverns, checking their wounds.

“A couple of those look pretty deep,” he said. “You think they’re OK?”

“Can’t tell yet, Captain,” answered Harald. “At least they’re all clean, and two bad ones are stitched up, but we'll just have to wait and see.”

“They’re gonna need fresh meat pretty soon,” added Ginette. “When’s the hunting party getting back?”

“When they’ve got something,” said Long. “Don’t think they’re many people in this region; should be plenty of game left. They’ll be back soon.”

“We’re about done here. If they recover, it should be within a couple days.”

“And if they don’t?”

“If it takes longer than that they might never recover,” said Ginette. “We’ve treated their wounds, and with plenty of fresh meat and clean water they should be able to fly again with a few days. Their wings aren’t torn that badly, and should heal without any problem.

“Is there a hurry?”

“Yeah,” said Long, looking up at the gibbous moon in the evening sky. “It’s gonna be a full moon in a few days, and I do not want to be on the shores of this lake during a full moon.”

“Ah!” Harald suddenly realized what the captain was talking about. “The Doom of Sarnath!”

“Yep. I don’t know if those moon-creatures still come here, and I don’t want to find out, but if the water starts rising and that rock out there—Akurion—starts slipping into the lake, I want to know about it real fast.”

“You know, Captain,” said Ginette, “their chances would be even better if Trooper Beorhtwig were here, injured or not. He’s their wyver-master, not me, and they know it.”

“The Healer said he’s not in good shape...”

“It’s worth a try, Captain,” urged Harald. “It could make a big difference.”

The Captain nodded.

“OK, I’ll send someone back with Aercaptain de Palma, and we’ll see what Healer Dunchanti says.”

 

* * *

 

“Even with laborers hired from the cities, and deinos for construction, it’s still going to take years, you know,” said Nadeen. “You already know what you want, but even after Muzaffer makes the drawings and we start work, it’ll take time.”

“I know,” said Jake. “A couple years, at least... and it’ll take longer to grow to what we really want. But if we’re going to stay here, the fort is going to grow, and that collection of shacks is going to grow with us. Unless we start it off right, right now, it’s always going to be a disgusting, dangerous cesspit.”

Nadeen laughed.

“Perhaps you should avoid that description when talking to the Godsworn, Jake. They’re planning on putting their glorious temples there, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess, but they’ve seen what it looks like. My biggest problem is getting them to see what it can be, someday. Even the parts I can tell them about now.”

He leafed through his sketches, sighed at how terrible an artist he was. He knew what those scratchings represented, but it would be tough selling the idea to anyone else...his artistic renderings would impress nobody.

He picked up a sketch he’d made of the city main gate, and held it directly under the sunstone for better illumination. The lines were clearly visible, but so were the places where he’d made mistakes and tried to erase something.

Nadeen was quiet for a moment.

“I’ve heard of something called a memory stick,” she said. “I’ve never seen one, but Chuang is supposed to have one.”

“Yeah, I’ve know what a memory stick is... but... wait a sec! How come you know anything about computers?”

“About what? Compu... compu-what?”

“Computers. Memory sticks. You just said Chuang has a memory stick.”

“Uh, yeah, he does. What’s a computer?”

“Something’s off here... what’s a memory stick?”

“You know what a shimmer is, right?”

“Yeah, it smears the view, helps hide stuff.”

“Right. Works on a limited area, and only when the incense is burning.”

“OK. And?”

“A memory stick is sort of like that, but instead of hiding things it shows images while the incense is lit.”

“Shows images? What kind of images?”

“I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard that Chuang’s memory stick has a complete map of Celephaïs, including all the underground passages, and the Palace itself.”

“And you can see this map?”

“So they say. It’s all drawn in smoke, apparently, but you can see everything very clearly.”

“Hmm, hmm... How did he record the map onto the memory stick?”

“No idea,” said Nadeen, shrugging. “But I’ve heard the same thing many times. I doubt it’s just a rumor.”

“So you think we could put Muzaffer’s drawings into the memory stick, and show the Godsworn—and the Reeve—what it’ll all look like.”

“Yeah. Better than paper drawings.”

“For sure,” said Jake, thinking. “Chuang is supposed to be coming again soon. Let’s ask him then about it.”

“OK. But what’s a computer?”

“A machine from my realm. It, uh, can do mathematics, and make images. Not much use here, though, since Reed obliterates anything that uses electricity.”

“Is it better than mathematicians or artists?”

“Not better, just faster. A lot faster,” said Jake.

“You know how to build one?”

“Build one!? Me? Not a chance! I wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to do it.”

“Magic, huh?”

“Yeah, magic,” shrugged Jake.

“Commander? Beghara.”

“Yes, come in, Captain.”

She walked into Jake’s living room—now doubling as a meeting room—and nodded to Nadeen.

“You wanted to see me, Commander?”

“Yes, thank you. Please, sit.”

After she’d taken a seat and Nadeen had poured them all cups of tea, Jake explained why he’d called her.

“Our airship is damaged, both wyverns are out of action, maybe permanently, we’ve got a few troopers out wounded, and Captain Serilarinna is unaccounted for.”

“When’s she expected back?”

“If all’s well, it should be within a few days. Whenever she feels she has enough info on Bleth.”

“And you’re worried that the eagles attacked them, too...”

“Can you take your twelve up into the mountains and see if you can find anything? She had planned to skirt the lake to the north end, then up into the mountains, but we don’t have good maps of that area yet.

“Here’s what we’ve got,” he added, pushing two maps over to her for a look.

She pulled them closer and scanned them.

“Not very helpful... might as well write ‘Here there be monsters’ on them!”

“Sorry. That’s why Mistress Valda’s been working on it. She’s in the library now, making the latest maps, and I want you to go talk to her and get a good look at her sketches. Apparently she has a pretty good idea of where they were just before the attack. I’ll go tell her you’re coming.”

“When do you want me to leave?”

“As soon as you’re ready, but your safety comes first. I want to know what’s happened to Seri and her twelve, I need you to come back safely with or without that information.”

“Yessir, I’ll get on it.”

Captain Beghara left Jake’s quarters and headed for the officers’ quarters, in the central building. She entered the building through the mess hall, and stuck her head into the adjoining room.

“Sergeant Pouyan here?”

“Nope, he’s off at the bath, I think,” came a voice from the back.

“Thanks.”

She ducked back out and stepped back into the yard again. She’d walked right past the bath a minute ago, and hadn’t thought to check inside.

“Sergeant Pouyan? You in there?”

“Yessir, Captain!” came a shout from the bath. “Be right out!”

“Orders to move out, Sergeant. Get a move on it.”

There was a hurried splashing on the other side and a few minutes later Sergeant Pouyan emerged, adjusting his belt.

“Where to, Captain?”

“We’re off to see what happened to Captain Serilarinna. If we can find her.”

“Did something happen?”

“Nobody knows, that’s why we’re going. Come with me to the library; Valda’s got some new maps that might be useful.”

They walked to the library where Valda was transferring her sketches and notes to more precise maps.

“Mistress Valda? The Commander said I should look at your most recent maps—the ones you’re working on now.”

“Yes, he told me you were coming. The Mohagger range.”

“The Mohaggers!?” breathed Pouyan. “Is that where we’re going?”

“I need to see the region around the north end of the Lake of Sarnath,” said Captain Beghara. “What can you show me?”

“I’m working on them now,” said Valda, waving at a large sheet of paper with outlines sketched in with charcoal, and a number of inked contour lines. “Here’s the Lake.”

“And this is...?” asked Beghara, tapping the fort’s position.

“Yes, that’s Bleth.”

“And where did you last see Captain Serilarinna?”

Valda looked at Sergeant Pouyan.

“Is it alright to discuss this, Captain? The Sergeant...”

“It’s fine. He needs to know where we’re going.”

“Yessir,...” she said, and turned the map so Beghara could read it more easily. “Aercaptain de Palma said they entered the mountains about here, and traveled north. I don’t know what route they took, but we last got a flash from them here.”

“That’s damn close to Bleth.”

“Yes, Captain. It’s on the other side of this mountain, but pretty close. There must be a route over it.”

“Why do you say over?”

“There’s not much point to coming this close to Bleth if they have to go all the way around the mountain... if that were the case, they would have headed that way from the start.”

“Good point,” agreed Beghara.

“What are they doing up there?” asked Pouyan.

“Scouting. The idea was that they’d go and get out again without being seen.”

“Is that what happened to the airship? All the activity all of a sudden?”

“The airship and wyverns were drawing their attention, with the idea that they wouldn’t be looking at the mountain too closely. Eagles attacked the air force; we don’t know what happened to Captain Sarilarinna’s twelve.”

“And that’s our mission.”

“We’re not supposed to fight anyone, either... just see if we can find out what’s happened. If we’re lucky, nothing.”

“And if we’re not?”

“You might have to earn your pay.”

He pursed his lips, staring at the map.

“That’s a lot of mountains...”

“Captain?”

Beghara turned at the voice to see Captain Chinh in the doorway.

“The Commander just told me you’re heading north,” said Chinh “We’re leaving in the morning with supplies for Captain Long, and can give you a ride to the Lake.”

“That’d be a big help,” said Beghara. “I was thinking we wouldn’t be able to take our mounts into the mountains, and wondered if we’d have to leg it all the way.”

Captain Chinh smiled.

“No problem. I’m taking spare mounts to leave with Captain Long anyway, you can just ride them.”

“Great, thanks. When are you leaving?”

“Hour of the Hare. Just after dawn.”

“We’ll be there,” she promised. “Thank you.”

Chinh left, and Beghara and Pouyan turned back to studying the map.

“How did they get there?” asked the sergeant. “They must have walked up this stream—here—from the lake, but that stream doesn’t connect to where they were spotted. They had to cross a ridgeline somewhere—here, maybe, or here.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant. I guess we’ll find out, though.”

Beghara started to roll up the map.

“Hey, you can’t take that! It’s my only copy!” protested Valda.

“Sorry, I need it,” said Beghara.

“No! I’ll make a copy for you by tonight. You can’t have it!”

“I’m a Captain, you know...”

“Captain Beghara, I will make a copy for you by tonight. You cannot have that. Sir.”

Beghara laughed.

“Spunky woman, aren’t you?”

She handed the half-rolled map back to Valda.

“I like a woman who doesn’t back down. Keep it. And thank you for the copy.”

She turned to Pouyan.

“Let’s go, Sergeant. We’ve got some preparations to take care of.”

“Have to find the troops and get them ready, too. Some’ll be down in town.”

“Yeah. Drunk or worse... You hit the town; I’ll go talk to the Horsemaster and Ridhi.”

Pouyan left for the thriving “castle town” at the foot of the cliff and Beghara walked over to the kitchen.

“Captain Ridhi?”

“Yes, Captain?” said Ridhi, sitting at her desk in the corner and checking some paperwork.

“The Commander wants me to go find Seri. We’ll ride out with Chinh in the morning, and cut north from the lake on foot. Say, four, no let’s make it five, days for the twelve.”

“By when?”

“We leave tomorrow at dawn.”

“I wish you’d given me more time to prepare, but the Commander does things when he needs to... OK, it’ll be here by dawn. Need anything else?”

“Nothing in particular,” said Beghara. “I’m going to do my best to avoid getting into a fight, so just our usual gear should be fine. I’ll want a couple coils of rope, though.”

“You know where it is. But bring it back, will you? Seri already took a few and we have to buy that stuff somewhere.”

“Thanks, Ridhi,” said Beghara, and left for the stables.

Horsemaster Turan was down in the grasslands with the herd, but one of her assistants, Miníbram of Ilarnek, was currying one of the broodmares.

“Captain Chinh has already told us you need twelve tomorrow morning, Captain, but I’ll make sure they’re saddled and ready for you,” he said. “These are just for riding to the lake and back, right? Not battle-trained?”

“That’s right... just getting us to the lake a little quicker,” replied Beghara. “And when we get there we’ll hand them over to Captain Long.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll tell the Horsemaster at once and get you confirmation.”

“Thank you, Master Miníbram.”

As she left she heard him telling one of the boys working in the stable to take a message to the Horsemaster, and get her reply at once. The boy would ride one of the horses down to join the herd—bareback, no doubt—and she should have here answer within an hour.

Next stop: the barracks.

A few of her twelve were there, lounging, and she let them know they would be leaving at dawn on a scouting mission, expected to last four or five days.

“Pass the word around, too... The Sergeant is down in town now. Is anyone over in Cadharna?”

“I think Nurbolat said he was going there, Cap,” spoke up one of the others. “And Borislaw is down with the herd, as always.”

“Damn, I’d forgotten that... I should have had Miníbram tell him, too,” said Beghara. “Well, he’ll be back later, and I can catch him then.

“So, anyone want to ride to Cadharna for me?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go if you like,” said Biming, standing to strap on his sword belt. “Tobacco’s too expensive down in town; Cadharna’s still cheap. Anyone else you need me to tell?”

“I don’t know yet... OK, who’s here?”

They ran through the roster, discovering that in addition to Nurbolat and Borislaw, three others were unaccounted for.

“Find Sergeant Pouyan before you go, and see who he’s located. And if anyone’s left, we’ll need to find them. After you check Cadharna, report back here as soon as you can.”

“After I buy my tobacco?”

“Yeah, after you buy your tobacco,” agreed Beghara. “The rest of you, get prepped. Captain Ridhi will provide a few days’ grub, but we’ll probably end up living off the land for a while, so plan accordingly. If you need something tell me or ask Captain Ridhi.

“Where’re we going, Captain?”

“We’re going to take a ride over to the lake, and then a little hike from there,” she replied. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“This doesn’t sound like a combat mission.”

“Well, it’s not supposed to be, but you never know when you might be expected to earn your pay.”

By dawn the next day everyone and everything was ready to go, and they joined up with Captain Chinh’s twelve outside the main gate.

Chinh also had some packhorses for the supplies, so the total was more than two twelves.

“I’ll take the lead, you on rear, OK?”

“Sure,” agreed Beghara. “We should be there in the early afternoon, I figure, barring surprises.”

“Don’t worry,” smiled Chinh. “If there are any surprises we’ll take care of them for you.”

“I’m quite happy to let you take point, Captain. Always liked picnics.”

“Sergeant!” called Chinh to his second, Sergeant Sefu. “Move out!”

Beghara held up her hand to hold her own twelve in place until Chinh’s horses were trotting down the road from the fort to the plains, then waved them forward.

“Sergeant Pouyan, you’re on the tail for now,” she called. “We’ll swap later, say, the Hour of the Retreating Snake?”

“Yes, Captain. And a beautiful day for a picnic it is!”

The morning passed without incident, and once they entered the grassland they made good time. In the late morning, as Captain Begahara fell back to replace Sergeant Pouyan as rearguard, the airship passed overhead.

“Looks like it’s heading to the same place,” said Beghara, shading her eyes for a better view. “Wonder if something else has happened...”

“If it was something important they’d tell us,” said Pouyan.

“And the wyverns are Captain Chinh’s problem anyway, not ours,” she agreed.

After a rest for lunch and to let the horses rest, they passed their horses to Chinh, who would take them onto the lakeside encampment for Captain Long, and set out on foot, north.

“OK, listen up everyone,” said Beghara. “You’ve all heard about the eagle attack. What you don’t know—probably—is that the airship and the wyverns were up there to draw Thuba Mleen’s attention away from Captain Serilarinna, who’s been scouting Bleth.

“We know the eagles attacked our air force, but we don’t know what happened to Captain Serilarinna’s twelve. That’s what we’re here to find out. We know they went north through the forest to the north end of the lake, and then they entered the mountains somewhere, moving up toward Bleth.

“The airship confirmed their position shortly before the eagles attacked, but we don’t know exactly how they got there or where they are now. Or if they’re alright.

“We don’t think they’ve got any airships or wyverns, but we know they’ve got eagles, so stay in the woods as much as possible. And if anyone sees any sign of Captain Serilarinna’s twelve, speak up!

“Sergeant, I’ll take point again.”

 

* * *

 

“They’ve been on the same schedule for a few days now,” said Seri. “I don’t see much point in hanging around any longer... we’re running out of food, too.”

“Not much hunting in the mountains here,” agreed TiTi. “A few ibex, but they’re better at mountain-climbing than we are. And we really don’t want Thuba Mleen to notice us.”

“Let’s plan on starting back at dusk, then. Pass the word back to the rest.”

“Yessir,” he said, and crouched back to the passage to the other side of the mountain. “I think they’ll be happy to get moving again.”

Seri kept her telescope focused on the fort below, constantly checking for changes.

The sketches they’d made of the fort had been refined multiple times until they were confident of their accuracy.

Bleth would be a tough nut to crack.

It was significantly larger than Fort Danryce, with higher, thicker walls, a much wider cleared space outside the walls well-covered by scorpions and other machines, dry moat and palisade outside the wall, and worst of all: a garrison of at least two grand dozens... In TiTi’s mind that meant twice one hundred and forty-four, or about three hundred men.

Even assuming he could field every last trooper, Jake could only count on seven twelves and half a dozen wyverns—against at least twenty-four twelves in a highly defensible fort.

Not good odds. Not good at all.

They could probably use Thuba Mleen’s own strategy against him, dropping bombs from the air, except even if the walls were down there was still too much of a disparity in the number of troopers on each side. And those eagles, whatever they did, didn’t bode well for their air force... nobody had seen the wyverns or the airship since then, and it was possible they’d been chased away. Or killed.

They still had no idea who had been escorted from the fort earlier, the mysterious person with the purple pennant. Probably a lieutenant, they agreed, but there was no way of telling.

There were also a few structures in the fort that they couldn’t identify. Kareem had never been allowed into the “off-limits” area of the fort, the central keep with its own walls and defenses. They knew about the eagle coop now, but there could still be some surprises in the others.

Seri thought they had about as much as they were going to get, though, and there was no point in pushing their luck too far. The Ibizim of Y’barra had given them the perfect place to observe the fort from, but even hidden in the shadows here somebody would notice them eventually. Or some eagle.

She stayed with Kareem, watching, for another hour.

“I think we’re done,” she said, putting her telescope away and rising to a crouch. She’d tried to stand up straight a few times, and after a few collisions with the low ceiling had finally learned.

“Pack it up and go?” asked Kareem.

“Yup, let’s go home.”

It felt good to stretch her legs again as she emerged from the passage on the other side of the mountain. The sun was already beginning to slip down toward the horizon, lengthening shadows—and making them even more obvious from the sky.

They returned to camp, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

There was no sign of their air force—airship or wyverns—and no eagles that they could see.

“Let me see that sketch of the area again, Sergeant,” she asked. “I want to be sure we can locate this lookout again if we have to.”

TT took an oilskin packet out of his ruck, and pulled out one sheet.

“We don’t want to mark the entrance itself, for obvious reasons, so there are a few obvious landmarks, like that pointed rock over there and the three potholes in a triangle over there. I think it’s more than enough, as long as they know how to get to this valley.

“We scouted out the valley, just to get a better idea of where we are... turns out it has only one exit, which is over a cliff about a kilometer east of Bleth. I’d be tough to climb from down there, but probably not impossible. And the only other access is the hidden passage we used, the first one the Ibizim showed us.”

He pulled out a second sketch.

“Here’s the sketch we made of how to locate that passage.”

Seri looked it over.

“It looks good, but I want to have a second look when we get to the other side. If we can.”

“Nobody’s seen anything up there,” said TT, eyes flicking up to the sky. “No airships, no eagles, damn near nothing at all except clouds.”

“I don’t think we have to be scared of the clouds,” grinned Seri. “But let’s hope our luck holds.”

“If Mistress Valda managed to make maps of this area, we can probably combine these sketches with her maps to make the route absolutely clear.”

“If,” said Seri. “I’m a little worried we haven’t seen airship or wyvern since...”

“Everyone is. We’ll all be happy to get more distance between us and Bleth.”

“OK, we’ll move out as soon as the shadows provide enough cover on the passage to the next valley. Just to be sure, in case there’s something up there we don’t know about.”

TT squinted at the western horizon.

“Hmm. Another ten, fifteen minutes? About that.”

“Yeah, I think so. Check everyone, will you?” asked Seri. “I’ve got a little business to attend to.”

She walked off behind a nearby rock, out of sight for a minute while TT talked to each trooper, and checked the camp to see if they’d left anything stupid behind. They couldn’t erase every sign of their presence, but they wanted to make it look like a hunter had passed through, not a scouting party. If it rained that’d take care of it.

A short while later Seri gave the word to move out, taking the lead herself.

The raptors were a bit on edge, probably because they hadn’t been able to hunt anything but a few small lizards. They’d take care of that as soon as they got back to the forest.

The entrance to the passage was obvious from this side, and she sent three of the raptors through first, waiting a minute and listening to hear if they were fighting anything.

Just some quiet snorting and claw-scrapes; obviously nothing to worry about.

The valley on the other side was a bit brighter, the sun still peeking over the western mountains here. It should be gone entirely in only a few minutes, she thought.

She pulled out the second sketch TT had given her, and quickly compared it to the mountainside. More local landmarks, good rendering of the mountain’s profile, excellent.

She thought it would do just fine.

She folded it back up and handed it to TT to put away.

Everyone knew the way back to Fort Danryce. It was a long march, but hopefully they’d complete it without running into a giant snake this time. Or Thuba Mleen’s troops.

They marched for about three hours, raptors spread out in front, until it got too dark to continue safely, and then stopped for the night. No campsite this time, just sleeping in the rough. At least it wasn’t raining.

They were up and marching by the Hour of the Hare, when the sun finally crested the range to the east.

Now some distance from Bleth, and heading away from it toward the Lake of Sarnath and distant Fort Danryce, she felt a little safer continuing the march in daylight. They still hadn’t seen anything unexpected in the sky, and while she wasn’t happy about the idea of trying to fight off eagles, she grew more confident as the day progressed.

The raptors were happier, too, as the streams became larger and the underbrush grew thicker. They were happiest when they could snack on the road, and there were more and more snacks to be found.

“Captain! Captain Serilarinna!”

The shout came from halfway up the mountainside, well ahead of her. She didn’t recognize the voice.

The raptors immediately trotted toward it, and Seri’s twelve shifted to face a possible threat.

“Captain! It’s Roach, from Fort Danryce! Call off your raptors; I’m coming down.”

A small figure stood up on the slope, then slid down toward her.

She hurriedly waved to Mudge to hold the raptors in position... there was only one person, and it did indeed look like Roach.

“Sergeant, you see anyone?”

“Nope. Not a sign. That’s Roach, though.”

“Look out for archers. I’m going to meet him.”

TT turned to the others.

“OK, spread out and find some cover. The only way anyone can ambush us here is with arrows, so keep an eye on the slopes!”

As Seri advanced to meet Roach the rest found boulders or scrubby trees for cover.

“How did you find us, Roach?”

“I’ve been trailing you since you left, Captain, but that’s not important,” he said, and continued speaking over her surprise. “Captain Beghara is nearby, searching for you, and about to be ambushed. You are in position to attack the ambushing force from behind, but we have to hurry.”

“You...? What? You’ve been trailing us...? Captain Beghara?”

She sputtered for a second, then turned back toward her troops.

“Sergeant! Up here!”

TT came running.

“Captain?”

“Listen to this, TiTi, tell me what you think.”

Roach ran through it again.

“I trust Roach, Captain. We can talk about the details later, but if he says Captain Beghara’s in danger, I’d say go.”

“Did you know Roach was following us?”

“Nope. Commander told me he was staying there.”

“Hmph. Roach, how many raptors did we start with?”

“Seven. You lost one in the woods in the battle with the snake.”

Seri nodded.

“If you know that, you’ve been with us all the way.

“Sergeant, it’s time to earn your pay. Roach, can the raptors get there, too?”

“Yes. They’ll have a tough time in one place where there’s only smooth rock, but they should manage. About ten minutes from here. We’ll be coming in from the north end of a valley, and Captain Beghara is advancing from the south. Thuba Mleen’s troop is in the middle.”

“How many?”

“I counted a full twelve, mostly archers.”

“So they plan to shoot first, and then clean up the rest with swordwork... good, if they’re archers and looking the other way the raptors should be able to give them quite a surprise.”

She turned to TT.

“Get everyone up to speed on the plan, and let’s get moving. I have to get the raptors ready.”

She waved Mudge over and explained the plan. She wanted the raptors to attack, but she also needed them to wait until her twelve was in position so they everyone could attack at once.

Shock value.

Roach double-timed them down the valley, and then over a shallow rise into the adjacent one, where another stream surrounded by bushes and small trees ran down the middle.

“They are about one kilometer downstream,” explained Roach, “hiding in a fairly thick patch of scrub. There was no lookout in this direction when I checked.”

“And how far away is Captain Beghara?”

“They should be here in under half an hour; no sooner than fifteen minutes or so.”

“And how do you know all this?”

“I’ve been scouting the area all day.”

“That’s a few kilometers ahead of us, and in the mountains.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty fast.”

She just looked at him.

“Sergeant, you heard him. I want to hit those troops in no more than fifteen minutes, ten if we can.”

“We’ll make some noise if we’re running, especially in this terrain,” he objected.

“Roach, can you get me a better idea of when the Captain will get there?”

“Not in time, sorry.”

“Damn. OK, I want you to move out ahead and stop us when we get within five hundred meters of the enemy. We’ll approach quietly from there. Go!”

Roach left at a lope, vanishing from sight in only a few seconds.

“OK, let’s get a move on, people!”

She waved to the twelve and the raptors, and they began moving downstream at a good clip, much faster than marching but slow enough to be safe through broken rock and brush.

Roach was waiting, and when they saw him they slowed down abruptly.

Thuba Mleen’s troops were up ahead of them somewhere, and they needed to keep the element of surprise.

She gestured to Mudge to take the lead, and the raptors slipped on ahead. They could run with their necks bent down, making it almost impossible to see them over the short scrub growing around the stream.

Seri followed, sword out. She checked her throwing knives to be sure the belt was in position.

A chorus of shouts erupted from a small grove up ahead: Shouts of alarm, screams of pain, growing and snapping raptors, a bowstring...

And they burst through the trees on top of the enemy, ambushing the ambushers. The raptors had already downed several troopers, at the loss of one of their own, and the battle had broken down into individual combats.

Thuba Mleen’s troop had been planning to start the ambush with a flight of arrows, picking off as many of Beghara’s fighters as possible, then immediately rush in to finish the job with sword and axe. As a result, most of them were holding bows and arrows, not swords, and that cost them dearly when the raptors and Seri’s twelve burst out of the underbrush behind them, at close quarters.

Seri took one enemy out with a throwing knife to the shoulder while she was still running toward them, which was enough for the attacking raptor to make the kill. Between the raptors and the sudden attack by her twelve, the enemy had no chance... in under a minute they were dead or sitting on the ground, unarmed and bleeding.

“Sergeant, go stand in the road and make sure Beghara sees you.”

He raced to the other side of the trees, hands held high, shouting “Captain Beghara! Captain! Coming out!”

Seri turned her attention to the captives.

“Who’s in charge here?”

One of the wounded men spoke up as he wrapped a rag around his bleeding arm.

“Nobody. Damn raptors killed Sarge first.”

“And you are?”

“Rayyan of Thuba Mleen.”

“Do you yield?”

“I do.”

She asked each of the prisoners if they yielded. Five of the twelve still lived, four of them wounded and one of those—his guts open to the air—likely to die shortly. They all yielded.

“Well, well, well... strange place to run into a friend, eh, Seri?”

She turned.

Beghara had come.

“Hi, Beghara... we were in the neighborhood and thought we’d say hello.”

Captain Beghara looked around.

“Quite a party... glad you were nearby.”

“Thanks to Roach,” said TT.

“Roach?”

“He warned us of the ambush, and led us here in time to stop it,” explained Seri. “They would have cut you down with bows first.”

“Weren’t supposed to be any of Thuba Mleen’s men out here...”

“Apparently nobody told them that.”

Beghara turned to the wounder prisoner.

“Why were you here?”

“Just scouting, like always. Corwalla over there saw you coming and we set up an ambush. Yours was better.” He spat.

“You know, Thuba Mleen hasn’t been having too much luck against Scorpius Company lately,” drawled Beghara.

“What the fuck is that?”

Beghara leaned in close, face only a hand’s breadth away from his.

“We’re Scorpius, and we’ll cut you down every time you stick your head up.”

She turned back to Seri.

“So? What do we do with them?”

“What’ll it be, Trooper? Give your bond and you’re free to go, but never again raise arms against Scorpius Company.”

“There can be no bond!” shouted the other, leaping to his feet and pulling a dagger from his tunic. “Thuba Mleen! For the Emperor!”

At his shout all five men attacked, even the severely wounded one, pulling daggers or grappling with nearby troopers to grab a weapon.

Captain Beghara stepped backward, her huge axe flashing around flat as she did, chopping into Rayyan’s waist and cutting half-way through with a spray of blood, a scream, and he was knocked sideways to collapse in a broken pile on the ground.

Beghara looked up—all five of their prisoners were down, dead or dying. Surging from their positions seated on the ground, they had been unable to even pose a serious threat to their guards, standing ready.

They all chose death over surrender.

Beghara shook her head, and reached over to a nearby corpse, tearing off the man’s tunic to wipe her axe clean.

“So stupid... I would have taken his bond, all of them... what a waste.”

Seri sheathed her own sword, thin and light in contrast to Beghara’s massive axe.

“They all chose death,” she said. “Their fealty to the Emperor of the Sands is... unbelievable. It is no dishonor to lose in battle! No need to die for it!”

She turned to her twelve.

“Anyone wounded? Anyone missing?”

She and Beghara checked both their twelves: a few cuts and bruises, one slice to a shoulder that looked bad, but nothing out of the ordinary for a quick fight, and better than usual.

One of the raptors had fallen, a dagger blade straight through its mouth and up into its brain... the raptor’s fangs had closed, though, biting off the hand that held the dagger. She and her killer died together.

The raptors, excited by the smell of blood, were getting restless. They had already been hungry, and Seri knew Mudge wouldn’t be able to control them much longer.

“We have to leave, now,” she said, then turned to her troop. “Take what you want and leave the rest for the raptors. Hurry!”

She knelt over the corpse of the sergeant, taking his wallet and checking his tunic for papers. There was nothing, and she let it drop to the ground again, walking away downstream without a backward glance.

She heard footsteps behind her as both twelves followed, and then the scrabble of claws on rock, and the grunting and squealing of the raptors as they argued over choice selections. The sounds of tearing flesh and bones shattering into fragments.

The terrifying sounds of raptors, feeding.

Chapter 13

“Thank you, Artificer,” said Jake, nodding his head. “We looked over your proposal and were very impressed. An excellent first draft.”

“First draft!?” sputtered Muzaffer, pushing his glasses up his nose once again. “That is a masterpiece of design, complete and glorious!”

“Yes, it is a spectacular design in every way, we agree,” soothed Jake, silently regretting agreeing to work with this architect. “We wondered if it wasn’t a bit too grand for such a small, indeed as-yet non-existent town such as this... we are, after all, a tiny fort in the middle of the wilderness, and not on any trade routes, or even near any. The Lake of Sarnath will ensure that we have few visitors, I think, and the beautiful city you have shown us here would be a waste amid the cornfields and herds of cattle and horses surrounding us.

“For example, I note that your market is enormous, but for the foreseeable future the only market we are likely to need is collecting food from the local region for sale to the fort. Cadharna already offers an excellent marketplace that serves the people well, and building a second one here would only serve to weaken both.

“Or this defensive wall, for example... it is indeed a strong defense, and would withstand attack or siege far better than even the fort, but as you’ve drawn it, it encloses an area far larger than the reasonable area of the town for the foreseeable future. We lack the troops that would be needed to defend fortifications of that size. Surely, if we are to build six-meter walls at all it would be better to build them around the fort than the town!

“If the fort falls, an enemy would be able to bombard the town from atop the cliff regardless of walls or other defenses.”

“Well, I can see that this masterpiece would be wasted here in the country as we are... nobody would come to see its beauty! You’re quite correct... I shall save this design for a more sophisticated site, perhaps at the crossroads of two or three major trading routes.

“You obviously lack the background to appreciate the genius of this design, though, if you feel my masterpiece should be slashed to tiny pieces. It would destroy the delicate balance of my genius. Like all peasants, you cannot see past the end of your nose.”

Jake motioned to Nadeen to stay still as she started to argue.

Muzaffer stood up abruptly.

“I believe we are done here,” he stated, and stalked toward the door. “We will be leaving in the morning; please arrange for my travel to Pungar Vees.”

“Of course, Artificer,” smiled Jake. “I will be happy to.”

His two assistants, Sefika and Fron, rose with him. The young man, Fron, followed the artificer to the door, but stopped when she saw that Sekifa had not moved.

“Sefika?”

“I will not be accompanying Artificer Muzaffer,” she said quietly.

“You’re staying here?”

“Yes. You are now first assistant.”

Fron smiled, bared his teeth, spun and trotted after his master without another word. He was delighted.

Sefika stood silently, staring at the empty doorway.

“Please, sit, Mistress Sefika,” invited Nadeen.

After a pause, she did, and turned to face Jake.

“And now I work for you, Commander.”

“Welcome to Scorpius Company, Artificer Sefika.”

“...thank you... I... Did you just call me ‘artificer’?”

“Yes, I did. And you are.”

“But I have not completed my apprenticeship!”

“Ah, but you have, Artificer. You are now a journeyman, by Royal Grant,” said Jake, picking up a small scroll and untying the purple ribbon holding it tight.

He handed it to her, and she unrolled it slowly, hands trembling.

The simple sheet of parchment had a few short lines written on it in ink, followed by a huge and decorative signature, and a seal of red wax bearing the impression of King Kuranes.

She held it unrolled on the table, staring at it in disbelief as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I... You asked the King... Thank you, Commander!”

Jake smiled, nodded.

“You have been a pleasure to work with, Artificer. When you mentioned you would be willing to work with us instead of for us, it was the least we could do.”

“But won’t Artificer Muzaffer contest this?”

“Against King Kuranes?” laughed Nadeen. “I doubt he would be so foolish.”

“That’s... that’s quite a relief,” she said, with a small, tinny laugh. “I was a nervous wreck.”

“You’re one of us now, Artificer,” said Nadeen softly.

“Thank you. Thank you, Commander!”

“Maybe some hot tea would be good?” wondered Jake aloud. “Captain Ridhi!”

Ridhi must have been waiting right outside the door because she was there, with a fresh pot of steaming hot tea and new cups, as soon as he called.

She poured the cups herself, handing the first one to Sefika.

“Welcome, Artificer.”

Sefika took it gingerly, more from a sense of wonder than because it was hot.

“Thank you.”

After the fresh tea was distributed and the used cups cleaned up, Jake brought the meeting back on track.

“I’m glad you’re here to help. Artificer Muzaffer is no doubt an excellent architect, but it was obvious that he had little understanding of what we needed, or wanted. And he had no interest in listening to our suggestions.”

“I see you have kept a set of plans...”

“Of course. Much of his work is excellent: waterworks, sewerage, public baths—although they need to be scaled down a bit in both quality and quantity—housing, the guard, temples... he is a talented architect, but he never seemed to grasp the fact that this is really a just a town yet, at best, with perhaps one or two thousand people at most.”

“So this is my first job, then?”

“Yes. The waterworks and the broad layout are the most important parts. The temples will need to be OKed by the Godsworn, but they’ve already seen the initial sketches, and the samples. Once the stonework is done, pretty much everything else is built on top and can be changed later without too much problem. Keep in mind that we may want to expand in the future, and make sure that we can do it without having to rebuild what we already have.”

“I think you’re oversimplifying the problem, but I understand what you want.”

She pulled the general layout over, and pointed to the marketplace.

“This marketplace, for example. It’s enormous, but there are no trade routes here, or even very near. The closest cities are two days’ travel, at least, and have little interest in the goods we might provide.

“I think it would be more reasonable to assume something on the scale of the market in Cadharna, albeit a little better organized.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Jake. “With room to grow.”

He tapped the temple complex, a walled area with the two temples inside.

“The temples are also far too large. No doubt the Godsworn would be delighted, but they’d have to bring in a lot more people to run temples of that size, and that’d probably boost the population a good deal. After a couple years I think we’d be a city for real, not a village.”

“Agreed,” said Nadeen. “The Godsworn are paying for most of the temple costs, but even so... these are enormous! We could build something far more modest, and it would still be a vast improvement over the wooden temples they’re building in Cadharna. Probably as good or better than most temples in the cities, for that matter, because we can build it from scratch.

“Suppose we make this... and this... and here... all future expansions, and just start with these sections?” suggested Sefika, pointing to the drawings as she spoke. “We can leave the land empty for now, or just make it a garden, and let the temples build them later if they want to.”

“I like it!” said Nadeen. “And if we give the entire temple complex its own wall, we won’t have to care too much what they build in there... putting it off a few years is a great idea. If the town grows as we think it will—and Fort Danryce with it—then it’ll make sense to go ahead with the temple expansions, and if not...”

“If not it would mean we have other problems,” said Jake. “Or we’re dead.”

“You said you’d ask Chuang about a memory stick, so we could show the Godsworn pictures of the temples instead of architectural drawings,” said Nadeen.

“Still plan to.”

“So, do you want to show them the drawings piecemeal as Sefina makes them, and maybe the images later? Or wait until we can do it all at once?”

Jake pursed his lips.

“...not sure which would be better,...” he said. “If they can understand the drawings, the sooner the better, so we can get their feedback and ideas soonest, but I don’t want to get them all upset, either.”

Sefina scrabbled through the drawings, searching.

“Wait a sec...”

She pulled out the drawing of the temples.

“Yes, as I thought... neither of these has underground rooms, only connections to the waterworks. If they don’t need anything underground then we can change the temple design pretty easily. Have to make foundations, of course, but that’s about all.

“There’s no real need to fix the temple design right now.”

“You’re right! We can put it off until much later, and it might take a year or so to get the underlying stonework done anyway. But I will ask them how they feel about drawings, and if they’re happy, then we can get them started on finalizing their temples, and start collecting all the fancy rocks.

“Let’s make new drawings first, though, to indicate the parts we plan to build now, and the possible additions for later. I don’t want them to decide to build a massive temple complex right from the start!”

“Understood, Commander. I’ll get some more paper,” said Sefina.

 

* * *

 

The Horsemaster bent down low over the horse’s neck as it galloped, enjoying the smooth ripple of muscles, the breeze on her face, the warm musk of her steed’s sweat.

She could hear the other horses following, spreading out into a narrow wedge trailing the leader like the wake of a boat.

“Good, Meatball, good! Now tell Thunder to cut in from the other side,” she whispered into his ear. “Thunder, go!”

The horse cried out, a strange combination of whinny and grunt, and Horsemaster Turan lifted her head to see the other column of horses, led by a young, pitch-black stallion, turn towards them, racing to meet them on the wide plain.

Between them was a twelve of archers, bows taut with arrows ready to fire at the oncoming stampede.

The thunder of the horse’s hooves grew louder as the two columns approached each other, finally coming into arrow range.

The archers aimed, held position, waiting for their targets to close...

and the charging horses broke off abruptly, veering right to encircle the archers, gradually slowing down until they came to a trot, a walk, halting to whinny and snort in suppressed excitement.

“Very impressive, Horsemaster!” called Captain Ekene, waving his archers to lower their bows. “If I hadn’t been expecting it we would have been terrified. I think I was terrified even so!”

“You have no pikes, Captain,” she laughed. “These horses would have ridden right over you!”

“I think you underestimate the power of our bows,” he replied. “We could reach the horses with many shafts before you got this far.”

“Yes, but even if you get lucky and manage to hit one of my steeds, it’s still charging right at you... and when eight hundred or a thousand kilograms of horse hits your line, dead or alive, it’s going to make a hole.”

“Oh, it would have cost us, to be sure, but I think it would have cost your horses more,” he said. “Good practice for my archers, though! It’s not every day they get to survive a cavalry charge unscathed.”

“And good for my horses, too... they have followed my orders to attack, and not suffered an injury. Now to feed them and reinforce the lesson.”

She slid down off of Meatball—a chestnut stallion—and pulled an apple out of her bag.

He nuzzled her, whickering softly as he reached for the fruit.

She held it out on the palm of her hand, scratching his cheek with the other.

“You did well, Meatball. Thank you,” she said quietly. “Now let me feed everyone else, you greedy boy!”

He bounced his head up and down, baring his teeth. His idea of laughter, she knew.

She walked through the herd, patting and praising all of the horses one by one, helping them relax after the excitement of the charge.

Only Meatball and Thunder were intelligent enough to teach complex commands—on the level of a good sheepdog—but the rest were young, active horses full of curiosity and humor. And as far as horses went, pretty smart, too.

The breeding program was proving to be a success, much as they had hoped. She and Master Chuang had worked on the broodmares and their offspring together, Chuang working his magic on the yet-unborn and she raising the colts with love and training. No, not training: education!

Meatball and Thunder were the first two, and ready to go to work. And there were seven younger colts following in their footsteps, with more on the way.

Pity about Storm... he had seemed perfect in every way, and then that black slime... she shuddered.

Master Chuang was expected shortly, and they planned to make the final decisions together: to release the two stallions to battle service, or to keep them close at hand to lead the herd, and serve as teachers for the younger ones.

The two still hadn’t claimed leadership of the herd—obviously only one stallion could be leader, and they’d have to work it out themselves—and neither one had attracted the attention of the alpha mare yet, either. She expected herd structure to change dramatically within a month or two, at the latest, as they gained confidence and began to compete with each other, and with the current herd leader, an older but “dumb” stallion named Cloud.

She wasn’t worried about the outcome; it was unlikely any of the horses would be seriously injured in the process, and it really made little difference whether Meatball or Thunder ended up on top. Personally she thought it would be Meatball, but she had no experience with what intelligent horses might do.

Neither did anyone else.

It might be better to split them into two herds, and run them in different areas of the grassland... she’d have to see what Master Chuang thought. With all the horses they’d been sending out with the twelves, the herds were not as large as she would have liked, and she thought she’d rather keep them all together for now.

The only question was whether Meatball and Thunder could work together with each other after one of them became herd leader.

“Captain, I’m going to take the horses down to the river now. Tomorrow I hope we can try that hunt-and-seek exercise we talked about.”

“Have a good swim, Horsemaster!” called Captain Ekene. “We’ll meet you at the main gate at the Hour of the Advancing Dragon, or down here at the Standing Stone at the Hour of the Dragon.”

“The Standing Stone is best for me, I think... I want to get the horses warmed up a bit before we start.”

“See you then,” he nodded.

The Standing Stone was an ancient monument erected in the grasslands untold centuries ago. Nobody knew who had erected it, or why, and the glyphs inscribed on its black granite surface were almost entirely weathered to illegibility.

It was visible from quite a distance, however, standing tall over the shallow hills and lush grasses of the plains. It was an ideal place to meet, and one of the few fixed locations in the grasslands.

She decided to ride Thunder this time, and checked the harness and girth before stepping up into the saddle. She had planned to get one of the twelves riding them, getting the horses used to riders and reins, but with all the troops out of the fort on one mission or another they were stretched awfully thin.

Captain Ekene would be heading back to the fort shortly to relieve Captain Nadeen’s twelve on fort guard duty.

Hopefully they’d be back soon—Chinh should be back today, after delivering supplies to Captain Long and wyverns, and Serilarinna or Beghara could be back anytime, in fact, but it was still unclear just where they were.

She’d just have to keep training them herself for now, until there were some troopers to help with the next stages of training. Borislaw of Eudoxia, the lancer now in Beghara’s twelve, had been enormously helpful, but he was off on a mission with Captain Beghara... In theory her twelve was to be cavalry, but unless they were here at the fort long enough to actually train together—which would take time—it’d never happen.

The river was an old one, one of the many tributaries feeding into the mighty Mnar. While young and wild closer to the mountains, it slowed and tired as it wended its way through the grasslands, twisting and looping down toward the River Mnar, and the sea.

The horses loved this spot, where the river widened into almost a lake, with a gentle, rock-strewn bank that sloped down to the deeper, colder water farther in.

She let them race, splash, graze on the clumps of grass and flowers spouting through the rocky ground, and drink their fill. It would be more drills later, but for now she wanted them to enjoy themselves.

 

* * *

 

“Party on the road!”

The shout rang out from the cliff wall where it overlooked the ruined slope gate. The roadway curving up the slope from the plain to the fort had once been blocked by a massive gate and walls, guarding against enemies from the grassland, but it was in ruins now. Nobody knew whether it had been toppled by enemies or merely fallen to the passing of time, but Jake had decided there was no point in trying to rebuild it with so few troops.

Nadeen’s twelve, on guard duty most of the time these days, had noticed the approaching party when it was still quite far out, but as it got closer they were able to identify captains Beghara and Seri.

“It’s Captain Beghara and Captain Serilarinna,” announced the guard to Nadeen as she came running. “Looks like both twelves are all there... and one extra? Damn raptors won’t stop running around, though; can’t count them properly. More than four, though.”

Nadeen took out her own telescope.

Yes, that was Beghara, and Seri, and there was TiTi.

She didn’t even see anyone limping, hard as that was to believe after the way the Beorhtwig and the airship had been cut up.

“Notify the Commander,” she ordered, and then leaned over so she could see the main gate. “Captains Beghara and Serilarinna coming through!”

The two guards at the main gate raised the counterbalanced pole that served as barrier during the day, and pushed the villager arguing with one of Ridhi’s people about the price of spinach out of the way.

Nadeen climbed down the ladder and walked over to greet them.

“Beghara! Seri! Welcome back! And not a trooper lost!”

“Not a single one,” smiled Seri. “We did lose two raptors, though... and of course we have injured.”

“But everyone’s walking,” added Beghara, “in spite of the fact that Seri smashed her way through an ambush for us.”

“An ambush!?”

“We took care of it, thanks to Roach.”

“Roach? Why was Roach with you?”

“Yeah, good question... he says we need to ask the Commander about that, and I intend to,” said Seri.

She turned to her twelve.

“Dismissed, everyone. Hit the barracks, the bath, and the bar.

“Sergeant, I want you with me. You and the Commander are going to tell me what’s going on.”

“Captain? You coming?”

Nadeen shook her head. “No, I just left Jake a little while ago... My twelve is on duty now and I need to be here with them. I’ll catch up later.”

“Ale tonight?”

“Done,” agreed Beghara. “Seri? You too?”

“Sure, I’m in,” said Seri. “Girls’ night!”

Laughing, they walked to Jake’s quarters.

He was waiting at the door.

“Good to see you all back safe,” he said. “We can do this later this afternoon after you clean up, if you like.”

“No, I’d rather do it as soon as possible, while everything’s still fresh,” said Seri.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, ushering them in. “Captain Ridhi! Tea all around!”

He led them into the meeting room.

Seri dropped a sheaf of paper onto the table: sketches of the fort, and other details.

“We were worried that the eagles had gotten you, too, Seri,” he said.

“They didn’t even see us,” said Seri. “Beghara told me what happened to Beorhtwig and wyverns. And Captain Ekene’s archers: one dead, one badly injured!”

“Beorhtwig’s out with the wyverns now, in spite of his injuries. Captain Long says they won’t eat anything unless he’s with them, and the Healer said it’d probably be alright. The airship flew him out the other day—the same day you left, in fact, Beghara.”

“So that’s what it was doing,” she said. “It flew right past us; we wondered why, since Captain Chinh was taking all the supplies there already.”

“Aercaptain de Palma and his crew are getting some well-deserved rest now... they did a magnificent job, and need time to recover. The airship needs repairs, too.

“So what happened to you?”

Seri gave a detailed commentary of their journey, mentioning the giant snake in passing and concentrating most on the Ibizim they had encountered—Lonagon of Y’barra—and Bleth itself. Together with TT and Kareem, she explained all the drawings, adding details of various things they’d noticed or guessed.

They’d already written down much of their observations, and Jake was writing everything down as they spoke now... his new pencils seemed to be working well.

“Well, we knew Bleth was big already,” he sighed, “but I would have been happier if it weren’t quite this big. That’s a hell of a lot more than we can handle...

“So what about these Ibizim? I thought they were just in the desert?”

“We talked to Yargui about that,” said Seri. “They’re the same people, just they ended up living in the mountains instead. The language and traditions are all the same; they are allies, of course. She has no idea where Y’barra might be, except that it’s somewhere in the Mohaggers, and probably half underground like the desert Ibizim.”

“So there’re tunnels under the Mohagger Mountains, too?”

“I’d guess so,” said Beghara. “We know there’s an underground city down there, and the Bagatur said it must have had quite a population before Nyogtha came. If they bothered to dig a tunnel here, makes sense they’ve got tunnels in other places, too.

“I asked Nurbolat—the Ibizim in my twelve—if he knew anything more and he said no.”

“Just like in the desert,” mused Jake. “Except that those tunnels were mostly unused, except for animals, whereas the tunnel Bagatur Khasar explored was used by Nyogtha... and maybe they all are, out here.

“The Bagatur is on patrol out through Cadharna and the southern tip of the range; should be back this evening. I think we need to talk to him for some more information.“

“Why didn’t you bring Trooper Kareem? He knows the fort better than anyone, right?”

“I thought it might be better to keep this between us, for now.”

“This?”

“Commander, what was Roach doing there?”

Jake laughed.

“Surprised you, did he?”

“To say the least... so you knew about it?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t tell TT, though, or anyone else... only people that knew were Roach, Nadeen, and me.”

“Why?”

“He asked me. He said he could follow any of my captains without being seen, and bring back a full report. So I told him to prove it.

“Judging from your surprise, and the fact that he detected and prevented the ambush, I’d say he succeeded.”

“Oh, yes, he certainly did. And since he was there at the same time, he may have seen things that we didn’t note, and I’d advise debriefing him as well.”

“I fully intend to, and I’ll also meet with Roach and TT separately to discuss other matters.”

“Good,” said Seri. “He damn sure surprised the hell out of me, and everyone in my twelve, too. We didn’t spot any sign that we were being observed, and even worse, neither did the raptors! We’ve sort of been lured into thinking that they would be the perfect watchdogs, but clearly they aren’t.”

“Yeah, that occurred to me, too,” said Beghara. “We really need to debrief the raptors, except of course that we can’t because we can’t communicate fully. At the very least, though, we must talk to Roach and find out how he did it, and how to prevent it in the future.”

“Or if it can’t be prevented, well, we need to know that, too,” commented Jake. “Good point.

“OK, let’s do that in the morning, then. Say, Hour of the Snake? I want to see Roach, you two, Kareem... who else?”

“I’d like to hear what Mudge has to say, but that’s just not very effective.”

“You know, we really need someone with experience raising and training raptors. Cornelia, Mudge and the other two can understand us, which is enormously helpful. But we can’t understand them hardly at all. If we could really communicate it would be incredibly useful.”

“The Zarites are known for their bows and their raptors... I think we should have Captain Ekene join us tomorrow, and ask him to bring someone who really understands raptors. If there is anyone.”

“Can we talk about Mudge in front of Kareem and Roach?

“Good point. I suspect everyone already knows, one way or another, but we might as well try,” said Jake. “So we talk about Bleth and how he avoided the raptors first, with Ekene, and then we can talk about communicating with Mudge later.”

“Well, can we really get any useful information from her? Or Cornelia?”

“Let me talk to Ekene today, and see what he thinks. If he says we should bring Mudge in, I will,” decided Jake. “So, the full debrief on Bleth and Roach at the Hour of the Snake, and then a meeting on communicating with Mudge at the Hour of the Horse.

“OK, what else?”

“We never did find out who left Bleth. The mysterious purple pennant,” said Seri.

“Pity you couldn’t see more of it,” said Beghara. “Means nothing to me, though.”

“Put the word out to the troops and see if anyone has a clue. Even a rumor would be a start. Be sure not to mention where we saw it, of course... that stays secret.”

“That it for now?”

“I think so. I’m done,” said Seri.

“Me too,” agreed Beghara.

“OK, thank you all.

“I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning, then,” nodded Jake. “Would one of you arrange to have Captain Ekene drop by at his convenience?”

“I’ll tell him,” said Beghara. “I have to talk to him about something anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Bagatur Khasar returned to Fort Danryce shortly after sunset, approach through the darkening sky slowly and noisily to alert the guards. His twelve was on foot, and dead tired after a two-day patrol through forest and mountain terrain.

He was accompanied by four unknown people—two women, two men— and took pains to escort with respect. He guided them to the meeting room, requesting refreshments for his guests, and sent one of his troopers to fetch the Commander.

Jake arrived in minutes.

“Bagatur Khasar, welcome back,” he said, entering the room to see the Bagatur and the four visitors seated comfortably, with untouched tea and fruit in front of them.

“Commander,” replied Khasar. “Allow me to introduce Matriarch Biwashaa.”

The eldest of the four visitors nodded her head: “Biwashaa of Y’barra.”

“Jake of Penglai. Welcome, Matriarch.”

He carefully poured a cup of fresh spring water, and holding it with the fingertips of both hands, passed it to the Matriarch. She accepted it, holding the cup the same way, and drank.

Jake repeated the ceremony for each of the four Ibizim, naming himself and receiving their namings in turn.

Once the ceremony was done he could relax, talk freely, and invite them to enjoy the tea and fruit. Nadeen entered and joined them. He’d already waived the usual pricking test, to make sure they weren’t Flayed Ones.

“This is the first time that any of Y’barra have visited Fort Danryce,” he said.

“The fort, yes,” answered the Matriarch, “but not the first time to be on these grounds... the Ibizim came here long ago, once, in anger.”

“Ah. The Ibizim, then, destroyed the monastery?”

“Yes. And its hideous masters.”

“You speak of Nyogtha.”

“We do not mouth that name. Yes, the Haunter of the Red Abyss, and its Stain. We purged them, and thought the monastery abandoned for good.”

“It is no longer a monastery, as you have seen.”

“We watched you come, and worried that the Haunter’s minions had returned, but your actions proved you were not a worshipper. You survived Thuba Mleen’s attack, and defeated even a Flayed One. The deciding factor was the presence of Ibizim among your troops.”

“What deciding factor?”

“Whether to actively work with you or not.”

“I see,” said Jake, taking a sip of tea to give himself time to think. “And since you’re here, I see you have decided we are trustworthy.”

“We have.”

“I noticed that you introduced yourself as Matriarch Biwashaa of Y’barra... May I ask, do you represent Y’barra, or all of the Ibizim of the Mohagger Mountains?”

“I believe you have met Matriarch Geriel of the Ibizim of the Desert, Commander, have you not?”

“I have.”

“I represent Y’barra, but all of the Ibizim of the Mohagger Mountains have agreed with me. Y’barra is closest to your fort, and situated roughly between it and Bleth.”

“Where, I wonder?”

“Wonder away,” she laughed. “We hold our secrets close.”

“When you speak of the Mohaggers, what extent do you mean?”

“The entire range from Drinen and Tsun in the east to Poltarnees and Arvle Woondery in the west.”

“You are already working with the King.”

“We have been for many years, as I believe Matriarch Geriel explained.”

It was Jake’s turn to laugh.

“It seems Matriarch Geriel has been talking about me.”

“I was tasked with judging how far we should go in that cooperation, Commander. And after recent events, including the unexpected encounter between one of your Ibizim troopers and Lonagon of Y’barra, it was clear that we may walk this path together.”

“I thank you for your trust, Matriarch. Your knowledge of the mountains, and of Thuba Mleen’s forces, will be invaluable.”

She nodded.

“How do you suggest we proceed?” asked Jake.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask for her assistance in detailing our maps,” suggested the Bagatur. “The Matriarch knows every aspect of these mountains, and would vastly improve them.”

“An excellent idea, thank you.”

“I agree,” said the Matriarch. “I will arrange for an experienced hunter to come tomorrow, to work with your mapmaker.”

“Thank you, Matriarch. That would be wonderful. And what can we do for the Ibizim in return?”

“There is one thing, actually, that I have been pressed to ask,” she replied. “Your fort continues to grow, as does the village below the cliff, but hunting in the mountains has increased dramatically as a result. Too many of our ibexes are being killed.

“You have easy access to the lush plains of the Mnar; we would ask that you raise your own cattle and sheep there, and leave the mountains to us.”

“A reasonable request, Matriarch. I can promise that my troops will no longer hunt in the mountains, but it will be more difficult to restrain the people of Cadharna.”

“Cadharna was never a problem in the past, and is unlikely to become one. The situation has changed because of your garrison.”

“You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

They fell quiet for a moment, sipping their tea.

“You have a sunstone,” said the Matriarch, looking at the sunstone in its container, casting bright sunlight over the meeting room table.

“We do. The Bagatur brought it back, at great cost.”

“Back? Back from where?”

“You didn’t know? The tunnel? The Haunter?”

“Tunnel? What tunnel?”

Jake turned to Bagatur Khasar.

“Bagatur, maybe you should take over. Tell her what happened.”

The Bagatur told her of their exploration of the tunnel, and what they had discovered—the underground city, built by the lizard people but abandoned to the black slime of Nyogtha, their sacrifice and escape, the sunstones, and the final filling-in of the tunnel.

“So there was a tunnel after all,...” said the Matriarch finally. “The tales told of a tunnel, but there was no mention of it being found, or destroyed. And you have done both.

“The city... tell me of the city!”

The Bagatur described it in detail, still beautiful even abandoned by its builders for so long, overgrown and wild: the ornate buildings, the statuary, the spacious estates and parks.

“Truly, that is the Home of the Shining Star... we once lived there, generations ago... long after the Children of the Night left my people lived there, until the Stain came. Nobody I know of has ever seen it, although many have tried to find it. The tunnels are forgotten, or destroyed—as you destroyed yours.

“Once they were protected by star-stones, but as the star-stones were destroyed or stolen, the tunnels became too dangerous to use, and were lost. How many star-stones do you possess?”

“How many what? Star-stones?” Jake was at a loss.

“The five-pointed star-stones of Mnar! Carved from a rough, gray stone in various sizes, they are marked with the hieroglyphs of the Elder Gods, and protect against the dholes, the Voormis, the Tcho-Tcho, and other foul creatures.”

“Star-stones,...” mused Jake. “Bagatur Khasar, why didn’t you mention them?”

“They are so rare, almost legendary... I didn’t...”

“The Bagatur has probably never seen one,” said the Matriarch. “Could we but find the ancient quarry of Mnar we could, perhaps, fashion more, but the quarry itself has been lost to time.”

“So a star-stone would keep Flayed Ones out of the fort?”

“Oh, yes. And much more.”

“I think I’ll have a chat with Chuang next time he comes,” said Jake “And maybe Chóng, too.”

“They are very rare,” advised the Matriarch, “and expensive.

“In these times sunstones are also so very rare and expensive,” she said, looking at the radiant globe. “The luminous lichen makes it possible to see in Xinaián, but do not provide enough light for our crops to thrive. Sunstones bring all the energy of the sun to our caverns.”

“Captain Nadeen, would you bring six sunstones for the Matriarch?” asked Jake.

“Six! You have six more sunstones!?” gasped the Matriarch.

“The Bagatur brought back many, and I would be pleased if you would accept half a dozen as a sign of our friendship.”

“A priceless gift indeed! Not only your friendship, but six sunstones would be enough to buy a kingdom!”

“I have a King,” replied Jake, “and no need of a kingdom. I could use a star-stone, though... do you think that someone might trade one for a sunstone?”

“Quite possibly. If you can find someone with a star-stone who is willing part with it...”

A portion of the sunstones were kept in Jake’s quarters, and it only took Nadeen a few minutes to bring them back.

She handed them to Jake in a reed basket, who in turn presented offered it to the Matriarch.

“In thanks for your friendship, and in the hope that these may contribute to the continued prosperity of the Ibizim.”

“We accept your friendship and your gift with our deepest thanks,” replied Matriarch Biwashaa. “In return, let me offer you some information you may find useful.

“Bagatur, I believe you are familiar with the peak called Foxnose?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I think, if you approach carefully, you will find a detachment of Thuba Mleen’s troops on the eastern flank, in a small grove. They’re scouting the region, looking for a good place to set up a new observation post.”

“Mount Foxnose,” thought Khasar aloud. “If I’m not mistaken, there is only one direct route from there to the fort, although there are other routes that are far longer. How many are they? And do you know when they expect to move?”

“A six. They will move in the deepest part of the night, at the Hour of Advancing Tiger.”

The Bagatur turned to Jake.

“Commander, with your permission I would like to make ready for them. My twelve is just back from patrol, but we saw no action. They’re ready.”

Jake considered whether it would be better to send Khasar or another captain, but decided it would be best to show confidence in his Ibizim.

“Take care of it, Bagatur. Use horses to reach the vicinity.”

He turned to the Matriarch.

“Matriarch, may I ask one of your guards to accompany them, to make sure they reach the right spot in time?”

“Of course. Taluaat, guide them there, and back again if they require it. Return to Y’barra after.”

The younger male guard nodded.

“I am at your command, Bagatur,” he said, “but will require the loan of a horse if I am to accompany you.”

“Bagatur Khasar, provide Trooper Taluaat with a horse when you ride. Go.”

He left with the Matriarch’s man.

“I believe we shall also take our leave, Commander,” said the Matriarch. “There is yet much to discuss, but perhaps those discussions should involve other people not present today.”

“Indeed,” agreed Jake. “We look forward to them.

“Allow me to provide an escort...”

“That will not be necessary,” said the Matriarch, cutting him off. “Merely lead us outside your walls; that will be sufficient.”

“As you wish, Matriarch,” acquiesced Jake, and stood.

“In that case, allow me to escort you to the main gate.”

Shortly after the Matriarch and her two guards left the fort, the Bagatur’s twelve trotted through on horseback, together with the Ibizim trooper.

“Good luck, Bagatur,” called Jake.

“We don’t need luck,” smiled Khasar. “We are Ibizim!”

 

* * *

 

Beorhtwig leaned on his cane. One of Sergeant Long’s troopers had made it for him from a handy sapling with a useful bend in it, and it fit him perfectly. They’d even whittled a sort of wyvern-like shape into the knob on top, although you had to use your imagination to see it.

His side still hurt every time he breathed, let alone tried to walk.

He hobbled over to Flogdreka and collapsed next to his head.

One eye opened to see who it was, and closed again as he stroked the wyvern’s head.

He took a chunk of fresh deer liver from his bag and waved it under the wyvern’s nose, rewarded with a quiet rumble from somewhere deep inside. The wyvern’s maw gaped wide, and he threw it in, gratified to see it vanish in an instant.

“Eat, Flogdreka, eat and get better.”

He turned to face Fæger, who had awoken and was watching his hands closely, waiting for more delicious liver to appear.

He pulled out another chunk and lobbed it to her. She caught it neatly, and made it vanish as quickly as Flogdreka had swallowed his.

“So are you two going to eat a proper meal now, or do I have to keep feeding you liver all day?”

Flogdreka gave a low grumble of displeasure and Fæger just closed her eyes; if there was no more liver she might as well go back to sleep.

“Can you slit it open down the belly, and bring it over here?” he called to Kassandros. “Better yet, drag it over and cut it here, so we don’t lose any blood.”

Kassandros, one of Long’s young troopers, grabbed the fresh-killed deer the hunting party had just brought in, calling to the other guard.

“Hey, Mahud! Gimme a hand here, will ’ya? Carcass is damn heavy.”

The other stood, brushing the dirt off his tunic.

“What’s a matter, Kassandros? Too heavy for you?”

“Fuck you, Mahud. Any time you wanna wrestle just speak right up.”

“Bah, wrestling. Young pups like you always think wrestling proves something.”

“Younger than you, true, although that wouldn’t be too tough seeing how old you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the other, taking the other leg. “Ready?”

They dragged the doe over close to Fæger, and turned the carcass so the belly faced her.

“That’s good, yeah. Right in her face. Give her something delicious to look at.”

As Beorhtwig asked, they dragged it up to within an arm’s reach of the wyvern’s nose. Kassandros pulled his dagger, punching it through the deer’s hide, then using both hands to saw up the belly, blood and guts spurting out of the wound.

Fæger’s head moved suddenly, and Kassandros jumped back, almost losing his balance.

“It’s OK, she won’t bite you,” laughed Ginette, silently observing the wyverns. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Thanks, that’s very comforting.”

Fæger’s jaw closed gingerly on the doe’s rear leg, and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled it closer. The wyvern sniffed the blood, and then her head snapped forward, jaws snapped shut, and half the deer was gone. She crunched bone once, twice, three times, swallowed noisily, and gobbled down the rest of the deer in another snap, half throwing it up into the air to fit it into her mouth better.

The deer was gone, only bloody earth left to show where it had lain... it couldn’t have taken more than a minute.

“Maybe I’ll just keep away from that thing, if it’s alright with you,...” said Kassandros slowly. “You sure it doesn’t eat people?”

“No worries. They just nibble here and there, maybe a finger at a time,” said Beorhtwig. “Quite friendly.”

“Yeah, sure... you want another deer for the other one, too?”

“Oh, please, thanks, that’d be great.”

As Kassandros slowly backed away from Fæger, Beorhtwig collapsed on the ground next to her, leaning against her enormous head, and patted her on the cheek. She flicked her tongue out, long, thick, and forked, and licked his arm.

“Finally, I think they’re on the road to recovery,” said Ginette. “I was worried there for awhile.”

“Yeah, me too,” replied Beorhtwig. “Thank you for getting them to let me out here.”

“I don’t think they’d have pulled through without you. They just refused everything. Maybe they thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, thank goodness, but not very lively right now, either.”

“I think maybe they saved your life as much as you saved theirs.”

He laughed.

“Could be! C’mere, Ginette, let me introduce you to Fæger properly.”

* * *

Jake opened his eyes.

The room was black, only the faintest glow visible through the window, the light of the oil lamp burning near the kitchen dozens of meters distant. The moon was almost full, but there was heavy cloud cover, and most of the fort would be pitch black.

What had wakened him?

He listened, not moving.

He could sense Nadeen next to him, and her breathing was as quiet as his—she wasn’t sleeping, either. She must have sensed the same thing that had awakened up.

He slowly moved his left hand toward her, creeping until it encountered her own. Fingers touched, pressed.

Yes, she was awake and alert, too.

There! He heard the faintest rustle of cloth, the swish of something through the air, a muffled grunt of surprise... or pain.

Ever so quietly he rose from the futon, grasping his sword with one hand and his Glock in the other. He saw Nadeen moving in the darkness out of the corner of his eye.

They didn’t bother getting dressed.

They’d talked about this possibility, and Nadeen knew what to do. She reached into the box next to the door and pulled out something, glanced at Jake, raised an eyebrow.

He nodded.

She kicked the door open, rolled out what was in her hand, and leapt out with Jake.

The sunstone, removed from the water that kept it dormant, rolled across the dirt. As it dried off it began to shine brighter and brighter until it shone with all the brilliance of the noonday sun, revealing four black-clad bodies, splashes of blood, swords and daggers... and a fifth black-clad figure staring at them in surprise, kneeling on one leg while wrapping a bandage around her arm.

It was Ridhi Chabra.

She slowly stood, looking at Jake steadily.

Keeping his eyes and the pistol trained on her, he waved Nadeen forward with his sword.

“Disarm her and bring her inside.”

Nadeen, her own sword out, approached cautiously as Ridhi pulled the bandage tight with her other hand and her teeth, then held her good hand up, palm out and fingers splayed to show she was unarmed.

“Turn around. Slowly,” commanded Nadeen, staying out of reach. “Drop that bag.”

Ridhi did as ordered, pulling the strap of the bag over her head and dropping it on the ground.

“Step away from the bag, in that direction,” said Nadeen, gesturing with her free hand. “Now strip.”

Ridhi was wearing a tight-fitting black tunic and pants, belted tightly to her body. With her good hand she carefully loosened her belt and let it drop to the ground, pulled open her tunic. Using only the one hand she managed to tear off her clothes, finally letting them fall atop the belt.

Other than a small pouch hanging from her neck she was naked.

“The pouch. Drop it.”

She pulled the cord over her head and let the pouch drop.

“Commander? What’s the problem?”

It was a voice from one of the guards on the wall, the night watch.

“No problem, trooper!” called back Jake. “Just checking on something...”

He lowered his voice again.

“OK, we are all going inside my quarters now. I am going to back up slowly, and you are going to come after me. Do not move suddenly, and do not approach me, or Nadeen. I will shoot you.

“Nadeen, follow her in. Keep your distance, and pick up the sunstone on the way.”

He took a step backwards, and the two women followed in a slow-step dance.

Inside, he waved her to a chair—one of the few chairs in the room, generally only used by older visitors who had trouble getting up off the floor—and told her to sit. Nadeen placed the sunstone in the pan on the center table, half-filled with water to reduce the radiance to a reasonable level, then bound Ridhi to the chair with leather cord.

Jake kept the pistol aimed at Ridhi’s face the whole time.

Once their prisoner was safely bound, he laid the pistol down on the table and sat next to it.

“Who’s the guard captain tonight, Nadeen?”

“Captain Beghara.”

“Call to the guard and have her come here.”

Nadeen stuck her head out of the door and called up to the night watch to summon Beghara, then returned to stand behind Ridhi, sword still unsheathed.

It was a small fort: she came running in under a minute, sliding to a stop when she saw the bodies in front of Jake’s quarters.

“Commander?”

“In here, Captain,” he called.

She stepped inside, axe in hand, and stopped again when she saw Ridhi Chabra tied to the chair.

“Would you drag those bodies inside for a minute? And then we can talk.”

Beghara nodded and carefully leaned her axe against the wall, just outside the door. It took her only a few minutes to drag the corpses inside, one in each hand, two trips plus a third trip to pick up the abandoned weapons and one left-over hand.

“Now, then,” said Jake. “Suppose you tell us just what’s going on here, Ridhi Chabra.”

“They were assassins sent to kill you. I killed them first.”

“You’re all dressed in black; how do I know you’re not an assassin, too?”

“Compare the clothing. They’re amateurs.”

“Suggesting that you are not,” said Jake, picking up his pistol again. He stepped carefully around the room to get a closer look at the bodies, and her discarded clothing.

“There is elastic in your clothing,” he said, stretching it with his fingers.

Next to him, Beghara quickly checked the four bodies, then held up the hand of one of the men. It was missing the ring finger.

“They’re all missing their ring fingers,” she said. “Thuba Mleen’s fanatics.”

The most fervent of Thuba Mleen’s followers, those who swore their lives to him and believed him a god, cut off their own fingers to demonstrate their faith. Most chose the ring finger, as losing it had the least effect on their grip when holding a weapon.

“You still have all your fingers, Ridhi.”

“Yes. I’m not one of his people. I killed them to protect you, and Nadeen.”

Jake sat down on the table again.

“You’re answering very promptly for a spy...”

“I think I can be prompt and honest, or dead.”

“I think you’re right. So tell me, why are you wandering around outside my quarters in the middle of the night protecting us?”

“I’ve been protecting every night,” she said.

“Hmm. And here I thought you were wounded and unable to walk without limping.”

She sighed.

“My limp is long healed,” she admitted.

“And?”

Ridhi’s silence stretched for a long minute, until

“...and I work for Mistress Mochizuki.”

“Do you normally reveal that to people you spy on?” Jake’s voice was very quiet, conversational.

Ridhi shook her head.

“If you believe I work for Thuba Mleen I am dead; if you believe I work for the Mistress I may live, but only if I convince you that I am not an enemy.”

“Nadeen?”

“Collecting information is what Mochizuki does. I figured she had a spy here. Probably more than one.”

“Captain Beghara?”

“Me, too. Wonder where her loyalties lie, though...”

“Good point,” agreed Jake. “So how long have you been spying for Mochizuki?”

“After I joined Captain Feng’s twelve... And afterwards, when I was recovering in Thace, I was approached again. They promised me that you’d keep me on.”

“She promised you that I would keep you on!?”

Sputtering, Jake tried to recall where the idea had come from to employ Ridhi Chabra. He hadn’t even begun thinking about the future back then, really... he and Nadeen were just doing what Chóng told them to.

Had Chóng suggested it? He didn’t think anyone had suggested anything, but... then why could Mochizuki promise Ridhi employment?

He’d have to talk to Nadeen about that later, in private. She’d helped him develop his plans.

“Are you the only spy here?”

Ridhi shrugged, winced in pain from her wounded arm.

“As far as I know. I thought Roach might approach me with some message, but he never has. And I’ve never seen anyone else.”

“So if not Roach, then who does bring you messages? And carry them?”

“I don’t know. There’s an empty hole in a tree near Cadharna, and we exchange messages that way. But I was told to never watch to see who else uses it, and I never have.”

“What about Aashika Chabra, in Seri’s twelve? She’s what, your sister? Is she a spy too?”

“She’s my cousin, and no, she does not. As far as I know.”

Jake thought for a moment.

“Captain Beghara, have someone wake Seri, and bring her here. Find out where Aashika Chabra is and have her brought here unarmed and under guard. Use Seri’s twelve if you need them.”

Beghara trotted out the door. Jake could hear her calling one of the night watch.

He turned back to Ridhi.

“So what are we going to do with you, Ridhi... I see three possibilities: kill you, throw you out, or pretend nothing happened.

“I think I need a drink, and I’d like to put some clothes on. Nadeen, you watch her a minute?”

“No problem, Jake. She’s not going anywhere.”

Jake grunted and put on tunic and sandals, keeping well away from Ridhi and making sure his Glock was close at hand at all times.

“OK, go get dressed, Nadeen,” he said, strapping on his leather holster.

“Commander?”

It was Serilarinna, at the door.

“Come in, Seri,” he invited. “We have a little problem you need to know about.”

Stepping inside, Seri halted when she saw Ridhi bound to the chair.

“Beghara didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, only to report to you at once...”

“Well, Ridhi here says she killed those assassins over there, and is one of Mochizuki’s spies.”

Seri looked at the piled bodies, then back to Jake.

“And her cousin is in my twelve,” she said finally.

“Yes. Aashika Chabra will be here shortly. Ridhi says she doesn’t know of any other of Mochizuki’s spies here, and that her cousin is not a spy.”

“As far as I know,” interjected Ridhi quietly.

“As far as she knows,” echoed Jake. “Get you some tea?”

Seri remained standing, looking at Ridhi with a frown.

“No thanks.”

Jake poured one for himself and another for Nadeen, who had hurriedly dressed and rejoined them.

Jake heard footsteps outside the door again, and turned to see Beghara and trooper Girardus escort Aashika Chabra into the room.

She stopped in surprise.

“Cousin Ridhi! What...?”

“Be quiet. Stand still,” commanded Jake, picking up his pistol again. “Trooper! Find Sergeant TT and have him report to me immediately, at my command. He is to wait outside. You will not tell him or anyone of anything you have seen or heard here today.”

Girardus, still taking in the unexpected scene in the Commander’s quarters, nodded and left.

“Beghara, strip and search her.”

“Ridhi, you are to remain silent. If you speak without my permission I will put a bullet through your leg,” said Jake. “Nadeen, strip and search her.”

Nadeen, sword at ready but not directly threatening—Jake’s pistol was fearsome enough—stepped over to Aashika and held out her hand.

“Your tunic, please.”

Bewildered and surrounded, Aashika slipped off her tunic and stood there, hiding herself.

“Any blood or other signs that she was in that fight?”

Nadeen signed to the woman to turn in place, staying out of Jake’s line of fire.

“None.”

“OK, she can get dressed again,” said Jake, and she did.

There was a knock on the door. It was Captain Ekene.

“Seems to be a lot of activity here tonight,” he said. “May I?”

“Enter,” replied Jake, waving him in. “Any other captains at the fort now?”

“No. Captains Long and Chinh are at the lake, and the Bagatur left on a raid.”

“Sit there, Trooper,” continued Jake to Aashika, pointing at a second chair.

Aashika sat, eyes wide.

“Trooper Aashika, tell us exactly where you were for the last three hours. In detail.”

“I... I was in the barracks, Commander. Sleeping! Just sleeping!”

“Was anyone with you?”

“No, of course not!”

“Who was in your room with you?”

“Just Yargui. Ndidi should have been, but she was, um, with a friend.”

“Captain Ekene, trooper Yargui is an Ibizim. Please question her as to Aashika’s whereabouts for the last three hours, and get back to me.”

“Yessir,” he snapped, and stepped out.

Jake turned back to Aashika.

“We will check your story, Aashika,” he said, “and if you have lied you will be executed. If you are telling the truth, however, there is something you should hear.

“Tell us everything again, Ridhi,” he ordered.

He listened carefully to see if her story changed at all, but it didn’t.

“Trooper Aashika, you’ve heard your cousin’s story. What say you?”

“I... I know nothing of this!” she said, shaking her head. “Ridhi left Shiroora Shan eight years before me; I know nothing of the Kingfishers.”

Jake cocked his head, looking into her eyes.

“I’m tempted to believe you, Trooper Aashika,” he said. “You know, I don’t think it’s a violation of bond to have two masters, but I’m pretty sure you have to tell them. And I’m also pretty sure that the punishment for failing to do so is death.”

Aashika nodded.

“So I’m going to ask you once. Have you given bond to Mochizuki, Thuba Mleen, or anyone else other than me?”

“Only you and Captain Beghara, Commander. No one else.”

“What do the rest of you think?” asked Jake, looking up at the assembled captains.

“Commander, Sergeant TiTi’s here,” broke in Beghara.

Jake walked over to the door and opened it to look outside.

He spoke through the crack in the door, holding it so that TT could not see inside his quarters at all.

“Sergeant, I want you to find Roach and bring him here immediately. Unarmed, if possible. Halt outside these quarters and call.”

“At once, Commander,” he replied, and trotted off toward the stables where Roach usually slept.

“So, we will know more in a few minutes,” said Jake. “Captain Serilarinna, Trooper Aashika is in your twelve. Do you have any questions for her?”

“Not yet, Commander. You asked the important one.”

Jake poured himself more water.

“More tea, anyone? Ridhi, do you want some tea?”

Silent, she just shook her head.

Nadeen refilled her cup, and everyone relaxed a bit, taking a breather.

Captain Ekene was the first one back.

“Trooper Yargui was sleeping, and until Captain Beghara burst into their quarters can’t confirm where Trooper Aashika might have been. She said that she usually wakes up when anyone enters or leaves the room, though, and believes her roommate was also asleep.”

“And you believe her?”

“I do.”

“Thank you, Captain. I’m waiting for Sergeant TT to bring Roach in for a chat; want to hear what he has to say. Tea?”

About five minutes later, TT called from outside.

“Commander? I’m here with Roach.”

“Seri, would you handle it?” asked Jake. “I don’t want to leave the room.”

Seilarinna stepped outside. They could hear her voice clearly.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Roach, we need to search you, and ask you some questions. Disarm.”

“I only have my dagger,” said Roach.

“Put it down. And your bag. Sergeant, wait here. Roach, inside please.”

The door opened and Roach stepped through.

“Come in, Roach,” invited Jake. “You are familiar with my Glock, I believe. You are very fast; my pistol is much faster.”

Roach’s eyes flicked around the room, memorizing every detail in an instant.

“Strip, please,” ordered Jake, lifting the Glock slightly.

Roach silently complied, dropping the only piece of clothing he was wearing, a simple dhoti around his waist. He stood, at ease, and pointed to the thin wire wrapped around one leg near the crotch, almost invisible. He turned to show that his gymnast’s body had nothing else to hide. No tattoos, all his fingers, and a few scars Jake hadn’t seen before.

“Thank you. Put the wire down, too, then get dressed, and sit there,” he directed. “Tell us, in detail, exactly where you have been for the last three hours.”

“I have been assisting the Horsemaster with a birth all night,” Roach said without hesitation. “The foal did not turn properly, and its hind feet were visible. We—the Horsemaster, two of her assistants, and myself—worked to assist with the birth. We saved the life of the broodmare.”

“But not the foal?”

“The foal was dead at birth.”

“I see... Have TT check that, would you?”

Seri, standing closest to the door, stepped outside to order Sergeant TT to ask the Horsemaster what Roach had been doing all night, and confirm the location and condition of the broodmare and the dead foal.

“I doubt that you’re lying,” said Jake, “because we can check your story so easily.

“You are here for training, but are bonded to Mistress Mochizuki.”

“Yes.”

“Are you aware of any of her agents here at the fort?”

“No, but I have no doubt that they are present. She is everywhere.”

“Do you believe that Captain Ridhi could be one of her agents?”

“It is possible, yes. I’ve seen no evidence of it, however.”

“And Trooper Aashika?”

“Less likely, but still possible.”

“Why do you say less likely?”

“Captain Ridhi is usually here at the fort, and so able to follow all developments here. Trooper Aashika often leaves on patrol and could be killed in combat at any time.”

Jake nodded.

“You’re pretty smart. Mistress Mochizuki teach you that?”

“No, Sergeant TiTi.”

“Hmph. He teach you how to answer questions, too?”

“Yessir.”

“Hmph,” he repeated. “What were your instructions for your time here at the fort?”

“Only to better understand what you—excuse me, what everyone at the fort does.”

“You corrected yourself. Why?”

“I realized that you could misinterpret my usage of the word ‘you’ to suggest I meant you personally, rather than everyone at the fort.”

“How long will you be here?”

“Until I am told to go, by either Sergeant TiTi or Mistress Mochizuki.”

“And you don’t know when this will happen?”

“No.”

“You may leave, Roach. You are forbidden to speak of what you have seen or heard here.”

Roach left.

“I believe Roach is telling the truth, although perhaps not the whole truth,” said Beghara. “He is known to be a Kingfisher-in-training, and for that reason alone already a suspect—which means he is not an effective spy.”

“I agree,” said Jake. “Anyone else?”

“I doubt he’s involved,” nodded Nadeen, as did the others.

“OK, Nadeen, I want a dragolet to Celephaïs immediately after we’re done here. Roach’s training here is done, and I want him transferred out immediately. And say that we have captured a spy and require an urgent meeting. Don’t mention Ridhi or anyone else by name, though.

“Next question: What to do with Trooper Aashika. Seri?”

“She’s my trooper. I’ll watch her until we hear back from the Mistress.”

Jake glanced at the others; there were no objections.

“She is to be accompanied at all times, Captain Serilarinna. As soon as Sergeant TT returns, he is to escort her back to the barracks, and stay with her there until you relieve him.

“And now we wait for the Sergeant.”

Jake brooded, staring at Ridhi with a frown.

“You know, Ridhi, I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t just tell me that you were a Kingfisher,” he said. “I’ve figured she had spies here keeping an eye on us, but we’re all on the same side. Aren’t we? The King’s side?”

“Yes,” replied Ridhi with a sigh.

“Have there been other assassins?”

“Yes. Once before an assassin was waiting in your bath one night. I killed her with a throwing knife.”

“What did you do with the body?”

“Stripped it, cut it up, and fed it to the hogs.”

“What hogs? The swine down in the village?”

“Yes. There are now about a dozen swine there now.”

“The pork you prepare for meals?”

“Yes. I invited the farmer to move closer—he used to be in Cadharna—so that it would be easier to buy from him.”

“Doesn’t bother you to feed a corpse to the pigs and then eat the pork?”

She shrugged.

“It’s just pig by then. Same as any other pig.”

TT knocked on the door.

“I spoke with the Horsemaster, and she confirms Roach’s version of events, Commander.”

“Good, thank you, Sergeant TT.

“Please escort Trooper Aashika back to her room at the barracks, and make sure she stays in it until relieved by Captain Serilarinna.”

“Yessir.”

“Trooper Aashika, you may go. Do not speak of anything you have seen or heard this night,” warned Jake.

“Yessir.”

Aashika and TT returned to the barracks.

The Commander looked at the assembled captains: Nadeen, Beghara, Serilarinna, Ekene, and of course Ridhi.

“We don’t have a jail,” he said to nobody in particular. “I’d like to hear what Mistress Mochizuki has to say, but I don’t want her running around until then.

“Chain her up? What do you think?”

“I am usually in favor of killing spies immediately, but in this case it looks like she hasn’t broken bond, and that she killed four assassins,” said Seri. “I’d like to see what the Mistress says, too. Anklet and chain.”

Beghara grunted assent.

“I agree,” said Ekene. “She doesn’t look like one of Thuba Mleen’s troops, and those four do look like Thuba Mleen’s assassins. But what is she spying on? You report to the King regularly, and surely the Mistress has access to all those.”

“Interesting point,” said Jake. “Tell us, Ridhi... what’s your mission? To be sure I tell the King everything? What?”

“I am to report on everything that happens,” explained Ridhi. “In particular, she wanted me to report immediately on any developments involving firearms, gunpowder, or explosives.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” smiled Jake. “And what did you tell her about our developments?”

“That you have improved the range and accuracy of muskets significantly by using a new steel alloy for the barrel, putting a spiral groove in the inside to spin the round, and are now working on something called cartridges.”

“Did she ever instruct you to interfere with one of our projects?”

“No, Commander.”

“Do you have any poisons, Ridhi? With you, in your quarters, in the kitchen, anywhere?”

“No, but...”

“But what?”

“I do know how to make poison from various plants and mushrooms available in the local area,” she explained. “I have never made any here at the fort.”

“When did you send your last report?”

“Yesterday.”

“And what was in it?”

Ridhi hesitated.

“What, Ridhi? Something you can’t tell us?”

“I... I reported on your meeting with Matriarch Biwashaa of Y’barra, and the growing cooperation between you. And...”

“And?”

“...and I reported that Nadeen is with child...”

“What!?” Jake shot up off his bench, pistol in his hand but forgotten, looking at Nadeen.

“Is this true?”

“It is true,” mumbled Nadeen, looking at the floor. “I wanted to wait before telling you.”

“That’s great news!” shouted Jake. “That’s wonderful! You should have told me as soon as you knew!”

Beghara coughed.

“Commander, Captain Ridhi...”

Jake dropped Nadeen’s hand and turned back to Ridhi.

“Fuck it,” he said. “Yeah, anklet and chain. Sorry, Ridhi, but I just can’t take the chance... It all depends what the Mistress says.

“Captain Serilarinna, would you escort her to the Armorer and take care of it? Ridhi, if you are quiet I will make sure you are well cared for; if you cause trouble you will be treated like a captured spy. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“I think I’ll have to keep her in the storehouse for now, with a guard,” said Seri. “Everyone will know soon enough, but I’ll announce she’s sick with something contagious. Maybe that’ll work for a few days.”

“Thank you. Uh, let her get dressed again, too. Nadeen, would you give her some of your clothes for now? I don’t want to give her clothes back: there might be more wire or something hidden in them.”

Nadeen left the room for a moment and returned immediately with a simple cotton tunic.

“This should do fine. And I don’t need it back.”

She handed it to Ridhi, who quickly slipped it on.

“And now, if you all don’t mind,” continued Jake, “Nadeen and I have a few things to talk about. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

The four captains—three of them surrounding Ridhi—left.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant, Nadeen?”

“It is still early, Jake, and I may yet lose the baby. I didn’t want to get your hopes up...”

He pulled her close.

“You were pretty hot last night... sex doesn’t worry you, with the baby?”

“Not yet,” she smiled. “I need the exercise.”

He led her back to the futon and sat down with her.

“I’ll ask Nolan to come out and have a look at you, just to be sure,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her objection. “I know, you’re a healthy, independent woman and you don’t want anyone’s help. But let him check you out, please. Just for me.”

“If you insist,” she muttered, grimacing.

“Maybe we should think about accelerating our plan... the idea was to have a lot more up and running before you got pregnant, so you wouldn’t have as much on your plate.”

“I can handle it, Jake. And it won’t hurt to have the child see how things are changing. Help him grow into the role.”

“You’re sure it’s a ‘him’?”

She smiled.

“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted a prince... I’m fine with either!”

“And we’ll have to find someone to take over your twelve. Your heavy twelve, I should say, now that you’ve been increased to eighteen. I’ve been thinking we really need to boost the garrison to two full twelves, at least... If we hadn’t had reinforcements the last time, Thuba Mleen would’ve killed us all.”

“I’m still captain!” she snapped.

“I know, I know, but someone will have to be in charge while you’re having the baby, when the time comes, and we need to start thinking about it now.

“What do you think of your Sergeant Petter?”

“He’s a very good Sergeant, competent and efficient, doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, gets along with his troops great, all of that. But he’s just not as imaginative as he should be. Give him a specific task or goal and he’ll get it done it if it’s humanly possible, but he’s too predictable.

“If I promote anyone over him, though, he’ll be pretty angry. I would suggest either making him captain of one twelve and putting a new captain in charge of a second twelve, or leaving him as one of two sergeants under a new captain.”

“You think he’s better as a sergeant than a captain?”

“Yes, I do. He’s a good man to have handling garrison.”

“So either make him one captain and find a second for the new twelve, or leave him sergeant and find a new sergeant and a new captain both. Any preference?”

“I haven’t really thought about much yet. Captain Long’s sergeant—Sergeant Chen—is very good and would make a great captain, I’ve thought.

“I don’t think we can touch anyone in the Bagatur’s twelve, or Chinh’s troop, which is too bad. After that, um, Maiza in my twelve would make a good sergeant. Ginette would also make a good sergeant, I think. She knows wyverns, which could be useful, but she’s pretty young—I’d prefer someone with more experience under their belt.”

“I’m downright impressed with Yargui. She’s supposed to be a liaison from the Ibizim, but I think she would be perfect as sergeant, or captain,” said Jake. “What do you think of her?”

“Oh, definitely, but she’s Ibizim. I figured it would be impossible.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Let me talk to her, and the Matriarch—maybe the Bagatur—and see. I’m thinking Petter and Yargui as sergeants under Chen, as acting captain until you’re back on your feet.”

“We’ll need a wet nurse, too,” said Nadeen quietly. “When the time comes.”

“Maybe you should just lie back down and catch up on your sleep, since we were rousted out of bed in the middle of the night.”

“And you?”

“Of course,” he said, and snuggled down beside her.

Chapter 14

Jake was up at dawn, as usual, but was only just in time to greet the Bagatur returning to the fort. The ambush had been successful, with his force suffering only one walking wounded while killing or capturing all six of the enemy. He returned with four prisoners, two of them wounded, and the bodies of the other two.

They held the four outside the fort walls, under guard, while Bagatur Khasar came to speak with Jake.

“They walked right into it,” he laughed. “Only six of them and no scout! Just waltzing down the trail like they were on a picnic!”

“Excellent! You sent the Ibizim scout back home?”

“He left as soon as we were in position; didn’t even stay for the fun part,” said Khasar. “I think there were more Ibizim around, though... I heard a lot of bird whistles later.”

“So now we have eyes in the mountains. I had been wondering if we needed to build an advance outpost to watch the trails, but I guess we don’t need to know.

“They know the mountains far better than we do.”

“Thank you, Commander, for working with them. I am an Ibizim of the Desert, but they are Ibizim, too. I will get word to Matriarch Geriel of your decision, although I suspect she will find out through other channels even faster.”

“What do you mean, ‘they are Ibizim, too’? You make it sound like they are somehow different.”

“You don’t know? The Ibizim of the Desert and the Ibizim of the Mountain were once the same people, but have been separated now for generations. We share a common tongue and traditions, of course, but we have been growing apart for a long time. Once brothers, perhaps, and now cousins.”

“So Matriarch Gerial is only the Matriarch of the Desert Ibizim?”

“That’s right. The Matriarch of the Ibizim of the Mountain is a woman called Tara. The two Matriarchs do meet on occasion, I know, although I have never seen Matriarch Tara. I imagine they cooperate in many ways; I know we have extensive trade with each other.”

“No, I never knew,” said Jake. “I shall have to meet this Matriarch Tara one day. Perhaps Matriarch Biwashaa can arrange it one day.”

“People can wait months for an audience with the Matriarch,” warned the Bagatur.

“I met Matriarch Geriel with no wait at all, and spent a few days in idle conversation on the airship with her.”

Khasar shook his head.

“I could never...”

Jake laughed.

“I guess I have the advantage over you, Bagatur... I’m from a different world entirely, and never learned how to be scared of kings and matriarchs. It hasn’t gotten me killed yet!”

They walked through the main gate to look at the prisoners.

“So what are we going to do with them? The last batch yielded and then attacked Seri’s twelve. Got killed for it, too.

“You think these four can be believed if they give bond?”

“Three of them—those two there, and the one with the head wound lying down—are trustworthy, I think. No tattoos, no missing fingers, and quite willing to give up instead of fighting to the death.

“The fourth one... I don’t know. He seems to have all his fingers, but he spent all his time coming here studying everyone and everything. I think he’s still studying you and the fort right now.

“Seems more interested in collecting intelligence than giving bond, is my take.”

“If he gives bond, can he be trusted to keep it? Or do people ever break bond here?”

“Of course there are people who break bond, but they’re all either dead or legends,” replied Khasar. “Soldiers, even mercenaries, kill oath-breakers on sight, because if it became common then all captives would be slaughtered. And everyone loses at least one battle.”

“Ah, so that’s how it works. I wondered how you could trust someone’s bond so lightly here.”

He walked over to the captives.

“I am Jake of Penglai.

“You were sent to spy on us, and failed. You failed because you always fail when you try to fight us. Thuba Mleen’s attempt to kill me in the desert of Thace failed. Your attack on this fort failed, and you lost your airship and your wyverns both. And then your attack on our airship and wyverns failed.

“The Bagatur tells me you are good soldiers, though, and I hate to waste good soldiers. You have yielded, and now I ask if you will give bond to me, and swear an oath never to attack this fort or its troops ever again.

“If you so swear you will be free to go. Or, if you wish, we will consider hiring you.

“What say you?”

There was silence for a moment, and then “What if we refuse to give bond?”

“You die.”

“That’s not much of a choice, is it?”

“Would you prefer a life of slavery?”

“Death to slavery!”

“And so it is. Will you give bond or no?”

The wounded man lifted his head, half-hidden by the bloodstained rag around it.

“Nariman of Pungar-Vees. I give bond to Jake of Penglai.”

“Tauret of Khem. I give bond,” said the sole woman.

The other two men were silent.

“You two are welcome. Master Nariman is be taken to the infirmary and treated. Mistress Tauret, you are free to go.”

“I would join Scorpius Company, Commander,” she said as two of Khasar’s troopers helped the wounded man to his feet and led him off to the church.

“Bagatur, she is in your care,” said Jake. “I will abide by your decision in the matter.”

“Yessir. Mistress Nariman, I believe you were using a scimitar? Trooper Tsogbayar, give her back her weapon, and take her to the yard. I want you and Trooper Tümen to find out if she’s good enough for Scorpius.”

“Yessir,” said the two women, both Ibizim troopers in Khasar’s twelve, and led her away.

“And what about you two?” asked Khasar. “You have not given bond, or refused it.”

“Must we decide now?”

Jake thought for a moment.

“I suppose not, although it doesn’t strike me as a complicated decision... Bagatur, chain them up and let them ferment. Food and water, of course. Take them to the Armory for chains, and then put them in the stables for now. Make sure they are far away from each other, and they’ll need guards.”

“Yes, Commander,” replied the Bagatur, and ordered his men to escort the pair to the armory for chains.

“We’re really going to need a jail if this keeps up,” muttered Jake. “First Ridhi and now this....”

“It usually isn’t a problem,” agreed Khasar. “As you said, it is not a difficult decision, although each makes their own choice in the matter.”

“If you were to be captured by Thuba Mleen, Bagatur, which would you choose?”

“Death.”

“You didn’t hesitate.”

“I made my decision long ago, Commander, as I believe all my troops have.”

“Well, good job, Bagatur Khasar, and welcome back.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for the meeting with Captain Ekene about the raptors. And get some breakfast!”

“We haven’t eaten yet either, Commander. Or slept, for that matter.”

“Were you on a duty roster today?”

“No sir. We got back yesterday and were to have the day free. Lucky thing, too, because now I can get some sleep.”

“Get your troops settled, and arrange guards on our new guests with Nadeen.”

“Yessir.”

Jake header back to his quarters, only to be stopped by one of the Armorer’s assistants.

“Commander? One of the prisoners is asking to speak with you.”

He turned and headed for the low building that served as both smithery and armory, and saw that one of the captives had already been fitted with shackles and was being led off to the stables. That meant the man who wanted to speak with him was the one Bagatur Khasar had thought most unlikely to swear bond.

The Armorer, Einar Ibrahimson, had just closed the lock on the shackles, making it difficult to walk and impossible to run. In the stables, the end of the chain would be secured to a bolt in the wall, preventing the captive from escaping.

“You have something to say?”

The man motioned him closer.

Jake, suspicious of the man’s motive, stepped a bit closer and stopped well out of the man’s reach.

“If you can’t trust me, at least ask the smith to step out of earshot,” said the captive.

Einar raised his eyebrows.

“The shackle’s on, all you have to do now is bolt the chain to the wall. I think I need some air.”

He grabbed the captive’s guard by the arm and pulled him out of the smithery, leaving Jake and the prisoner alone.

“OK, we’re alone. What?”

“You have to kill me.”

Jake was taken aback.

“You could have asked that when the Bagatur captured you. Why take all the trouble to drag me here and get shackled first?”

“No, no, I don’t mean actually kill me. You have to say you’ve killed me, and let me go.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m a spy of Queen Caila of Perinthia and not one of Thuba Mleen’s troopers at all. I am sworn to the Queen and will willingly die for her, if you must, but would vastly prefer to live, and continue to serve her. I am Guillaume of Perinthia.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“You shouldn’t, of course. But if you ask the Queen, or Commander Jean of her Guard, I think you will find that I speak truth.”

“Perinthia is a long way from here; we have no dragolet to fly there.”

“But you can get messages to her via Celephaïs, or even Counselor Chuang when he visits next week.”

“You know he is coming next week?”

“Of course! Thuba Mleen has his own spies.”

“What else does Thuba Mleen have? Does he have an airship?”

“After your little surprise last time? No, I doubt it,” replied Guillaume. “If you will guarantee my safety until you receive confirmation from the Queen I will be happy to provide you with more information on Bleth, and Thuba Mleen.”

“And why must I make it look like I killed you?”

“If I’m dead then Thuba Mleen will stop looking for me, and the Queen can send me somewhere else—perhaps Lhosk, or Xura—until people forget what I look like.”

“I will guarantee your safety until I hear from the Queen,” said Jake. “Until then, though, you will remain shackled and under guard.”

“Thank you, Commander. If you keep me far away from Tanawat—the other captive—I can tell you what I know.”

Jake studied the other, thinking of how this could possibly be a trap. The man could be lying, but what could he gain from it? If the Queen denied knowing him he’d be killed. It was possible he was just trying to inject false intelligence and confuse him, of course, but he’d still be dead.

Unless... was it possible that the Queen herself was allied with Thuba Mleen? That would make a little sense, at least. And he knew next to nothing about Perinthia, or Queen Caila.

“I’ll think on it,” he said, finally. “Until then don’t go anywhere.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” countered Guillaume, rattling his chain.

Jake walked back to his quarters. Nadeen was already gone, up on the wall somewhere with the guard. Captain Ekene would be here soon to talk about raptors, but first he needed to write a message to Chuang in Celephaïs.

Today Captain Chinh was supposed to return to the fort, too, which would give them a little more manpower—they were stretched pretty thin, with Sergeant Long and the wyverns off at the lake.

He wrote a long letter to Chuang, and coded it using the copy of De Generibus Artium Magicarum Anglorum by Sutton-Grove that Chuang had given him—along with a stack of other largely useless books on magic and monsters. Chuang advised him that anyone looking at his library of “dark books” would laugh and dismiss him as a rank amateur. Which he was, of course, but the books were on his shelf for use in coding messages, not for reference. His messages would be easy to break if anyone had the same edition of the same book, but without it they were almost unbreakable. The book cipher.

He’d glanced through the book a little, and in spite of being written in 18^th-century English found he could read most of it. It was incredibly boring.

His letter detailed the capture of “Guillaume of Perinthia” and his strange request. He asked Chuang to help him verify the man’s claims through Queen Caila, and asked Chuang direct how trustworthy the Queen was: any chance she was allied with Thuba Mleen?

He rolled the message up and sealed it into a waterproof oilskin pouch, and walked it over to the stables to hand to Horsemaster Turan personally. They still hadn’t built a special hutch for the dragolets, and Turan was still stuck with taking care of them.

He really needed to get that built one of these days...

* * *

Captain Long scratched his side again.

Something had bitten him, and whatever it was must be living in his bedroll, he figured. Second morning in a row he’d woken up with a big, red splotch on his body. Damn thing itched for hours, too, yesterday.

Normally he wash it or smoke it or something, or maybe just buy a new one, but he really didn’t have that luxury out here.

This was a field camp, and a very rough one at that. The waters of the Lake of Sarnath were as gray and turgid as always, and that peculiar smell—it reminded him of wet dog—permeated everything even with the sun out.

They couldn’t see the ruins of drowned Sarnath from here, but the gray rock of Akurion was plainly visible offshore. Devoid of vegetation, it was grayish-green, covered in lichen and fungus.

Captain Chinh walked over to greet him.

“Another quiet night,” he said. “except for something jumping around out in the water. Never could see what it was, but it made a hell of a big splash every time.”

“You’re probably better off not being able to see it,” said Long. “I don’t like being here at all, and even less at night.”

“And tomorrow night is a full moon.”

“Yeah, I know. I hope the wyverns are a little better because I really need to get everyone moved away from the lake today. Or at least get started today, so we aren’t here for the full moon.”

“You ever see any of Bokrug’s spawn?”

“Never, and don’t intend to,” spit Long. “I’m not much on big green moon-creatures.”

“Mmm. Me neither,” agreed Chinh. “You need help getting things moving?”

“Nah, we’re OK. My twelve can take care of itself, and if the wyverns can’t walk I don’t think we can move them anyway. We’d need to build a whole damn road and move ’em on rollers, I think.”

“Heavy beasts... I’m still surprised something that big can fly, to be honest.”

“Shantaks are even bigger.”

“Never seen one up close. You?”

“Nope. I think you’d be dead if you had...”

“Hmph,” said Chinh. “Well, you’re in charge now. We’re out of here and back to Fort Danryce.”

“Thanks for the supplies, Captain. Safe journey.”

“Safe journey, Captain.”

Chinh walked off to get his own twelve in order, finishing up preparations to return to the fort. The horses they’d brought—the ones Captain Beghara had used on her mission north—were now Captain Long’s problem.

“Listen up, everyone,” called Long. “Captain Chinh’s headed back to the fort, and today we have to get moved back from the lake. It’ll be a full moon tomorrow night, and I do not want to be stuck here when that happens.

“Sergeant Chen has already found a good spot, with water—clean, fresh water!—and green grass, and I can’t fucking wait to get away from this lake.

“The problem is the wyverns. If they can fly even a little it would be great, because the new camp is only a few klicks from here. If not, I want to get them started walking. We might have to rough it tonight if we can’t get them there, but whatever happens we are not going to spend tonight here, so get your gear together and kiss your froggy friends goodbye.

“Captain Chen, would you get it all ready? I’m off to talk to our wyvern-master.”

“I’ve got it, Cap’n,” responded Chen. “We’ll be ready before they are.”

As Captain Long walked over toward Beorhtwig and the wyverns, he heard Sergeant Chen shouting at one the troopers who was still lounging on their bedroll.

“Trooper Beorhtwig!”

“Morning, Captain.”

“How are the wyverns this morning?”

“They seem a little better... finally ate a good meal yesterday, a whole deer each, with a few rabbits for dessert. If they keep that up they should be healed soon.”

“And you?”

“I can ride,” said the other. “Still hurts like a son of a bitch, but I can ride.”

“Can they fly a few klicks?”

“Fly... I don’t know. If they were up in the air already they could stay up there without too much trouble, but getting up off the ground takes an awful lot of effort. Wounded as they are...”

“Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that,” scowled Long. “Can they walk?”

“A couple kilometers!? Not in one march, that’s for sure. They aren’t really designed to walk, you know.”

“We have to get away from here. Tomorrow’s the full moon and we can’t be here then... Just look at Sarnath!”

“I saw something yesterday... out there... crawling over the tumbled blocks,” said Beorhtwig quietly. “Not sure what it was, but I’d rather not stay here myself.”

He turned to Ginette.

“What do you think, Ginette? I think they can walk if we take it slow and let them rest. But no flying, not yet.”

“No, no way they can fly yet. They’d tear something open for sure. They should be able to walk without too much pain, though... most of their injuries are to their bodies, especially the neck, and not the legs.”

Beorhtwig turned back to Captain Long. “OK, let’s try it. When do you want to get started?”

“Depends on you, really... we’re only here for you and the wyverns,” said Long. “If you’re going to need a lot of breaks maybe you should start early and plan on resting every thirty minutes or whatever. I don’t think we need to try flying, yet, but depending on how things go today we might need to fly a short distance tomorrow to get away to safety.”

“Will it really be that dangerous tomorrow?”

Captain Long just waved at the lake and the scattered ruins of Sarnath poking up through the dark water here and there.

“Yeah, I get it,” said Beorhtwig. “Let me grab some food and see if these two’ll eat anything, and then we’ll start. Where are we going?”

“Call me when you’re ready and I’ll get you a guide. Thanks.”

He turned to the troopers looking after the wyverns. “Kassandros, Mahud, Trooper Ginette... Make sure he has whatever he needs, and if you don’t have it come ask me. Getting the wyver-master and these wyverns to safety is our top priority.”

“Yessir,” they replied in unison, and turned to their tasks.

Long returned to the main camp to get his own gear in order as Beorhtwig talked to his charges.

“And how are you two today? You feeling better? Had a big meal yesterday, didn’t you?”

There was no reply, of course, but Flogdreka batted him playfully with the side of his head, and he could hear Fæger rumbling contentedly behind him.

“We have to do a little walking today, Flogdreka. You up for it? Fæger, how about you?”

Fæger was nuzzling Ginette, who had discovered that she loved getting scratched between the eyes.

“Hey, Mahud! We have any more fresh deer?”

“You must be kidding!” came the response. “You know how heavy those carcasses are? And then your little friends there scarf them down in ten seconds... I might be able to shoot some rabbits or squirrels for you, but not a deer. Not right now.”

“Yeah, I figured as much... Well, wyverns usually don’t eat all that often anyway,” said Beorhtwig. “Maybe we’ll see something nice and juicy on the way, huh Flogdreka?”

“We’re really ready to start anytime, Mahud,” he said. “They’re as rested now as they’ll ever be, and the day’s still cool. I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

“We’re all traveling light here... the Cap’n’s prob’ly ready, too. I’ll go see.”

He talked to Captain Long and shortly thereafter Yafeu, the Zarite archer, walked over with a string of horses.

“I rode with Sergeant Chen when we found the new site. I can lead you there,” he said. “The rest of the twelve will follow your lead... I think we’ll be a lot faster on horse than your wyverns.”

“Thanks, Yafeu,” said Beorhtwig, climbing to his feet. “Which one’s mine?”

“I’m riding the chestnut; my stuff’s already strapped on. Pick whichever one you like.”

Beorhtwig grabbed the nearest one, a white mare with splatters of black across her flanks, and threw his bedroll and ruck over here rump, lashing them down securely.

“One of you guys give me a hand up? Still hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Kassandros, and laced his hands together into a step. “Up you go!”

“Thanks.”

He trotted over to the wyverns.

“OK, you lazybones! Up on your feet! Time to get a little exercise!”

Grunting and wheezing the two wyverns slowly stood. With two enormously powerful legs and a thick armored tail, they stood taller than the mounted man.

They balanced on the tripod thus formed, their wings moving and unfolding a little bit as they got used to standing again.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” he asked.

Flogdreka threw his head up and gave a long growl of displeasure, but Fæger just kept moving her feet up and down in place, one at a time, as if checking they still worked.

“So I guess that means you’re good to go, then.”

Beorhtwig twitched his reins and his mount began walking away from the lakeshore.

“Come on you lazies! You’ll get fat if you don’t exercise once in a while!”

Ponderously, Flogdreka waddled after him, grumbling deep in his belly and obviously not in the mood to walk right now, while Ginette and Fæger traipsed ahead having a wonderful time.

He might be grumbling, thought Beorhtwig, but I see he stepped over the fire neatly. Not in that much pain, then...

* * *

Captain Ekene brought one of his troopers with him, a woman named Kosarachi. Jake figured she must be in the late thirties, maybe forties. As with most of the Zarite women troopers he’d seen, her hair was cropped short.

“Trooper Kosarachi has worked with raptors all her life, as I said before,” he explained. “I mean, almost all Zarites have raptors for hunting or battle, but her family breeds and trains them.”

“Jake of Penglai,” he said, waving her to a stool.

“Kosarachi of Begama of Zar.”

A strong woman, he thought. Average face, average build, but she was perfectly at ease talking to her commander. She looked competent and confident.

“The family business?”

“Yes. We’ve been breeding raptors for generations; probably one of the oldest families in the trade in Zar,” she replied.

“Begama raptors are widely recognized as one of the best breeds,” added Ekene. “They’re generally smart, and always very well trained.”

“Why didn’t you bring your own raptors with you when you came, Captain?”

“Master Chuang suggested that we not, because we needed to bring some raptors for you. I think he wanted us to concentrate on learning your methods rather than worrying about our raptors.

“When we return to Zar we’ll start integrating your ideas with our own. To be honest I feel pretty exposed out on patrol without a brood ranging out ahead of me.”

“Trooper Kosarachi, you are here today because the Captain believes you know how to keep your mouth shut,” said Jake. “We need to talk about some things that are not common knowledge, and I need to know you can keep them quiet. It will all leak out eventually—you’ve probably figured it out yourself already—but for now, you don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“I can keep it to myself, Commander.”

“You’ve seen our raptors in action, right?”

“The raptors we brought? Yessir, several times.”

“And what did you think after you saw them here?”

“They are being controlled far more effectively than I’ve ever seen. But it can’t be training because we trained them.”

“No, it isn’t training,” explained Jake. “Mudge and a few other raptors are smart, probably as smart as people, and the smart ones can control the other raptors. We don’t know if they have their own language, but they can understand a lot of common speech.

“There are still problems, though: they lack knowledge of what people do and how we do it, and that interferes with their understanding. Most of all, we can’t understand them when they bring us intelligence. There are a few gestures that we understand, things like enemies and rough distances, but we need far more.

“We need to be able to talk to them.”

“And you want me to help with that?”

“Yes. Captain Ekene has already agreed to release you, if you’re willing to take the job.”

“So I wouldn’t be in the Captain’s twelve anymore? Would I still be a warrior for the High Chief?”

“I’d need to discuss that with the High Chief,” broke in Ekene, “but I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t be assigned to work with the Commander and retain your status.”

“You would be a sergeant, with two troopers under you to start. If necessary you can add more people in the future. Special quarters near the raptors, special meat ration, and anything else you can convince me you need.”

“Well. This is all quite... unexpected,...” she said. “I mean, I noticed there was something off about your raptors, and there have always been stories about smart beasts, but... They can understand us, you say?”

“Short, direct sentences. Simple words, simple grammar, no idioms or abbreviations. Yeah, they understand it just fine.

“Captain Serilarinna just returned after a combat mission using the raptors, and can provide details on what worked and what didn’t.

“The best thing would be to work with Mudge and the others yourself, though.”

“And the goal is to find a way to understand them, right?”

“And to make sure they understand us. It’s not always easy to use clear, simple language, especially in the heat of a battle. We need better communication both ways.”

“Where did they come from? I mean, my raptors were smart, too, but that was smart enough to play fetch or bring back an arrow-shot bird or something. Nothing even close to communication.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, trooper,” advised Jake. “We have four now, and will get more in the future. That’s enough.”

“Well, wherever they came from, people there might have some ideas, too.”

“Apparently they haven’t come up with anything that works very well, either. Sure, they are some human-raptor pairs that seem to understand each other very well, but unless we can come up with a way for any trooper to communicate with any raptor, they’ll never be the success we need.”

Kosarachi turned to her captain.

“Captain, you’re OK with all this? I swore an oath to the High Chief, and it feels... strange.”

“I am. I understand how you feel, but if there is such a thing as a smart raptor, I want Zar to be involved. And right now, that means you.”

She fell silent for a moment.

“Commander, I accept.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Kosarachi,” grinned Jake. “I was hoping you would.”

He poured more tea for his guests, and water for himself.

“Now, we’re housing the raptors outside the fort walls for now, in a stable just inside the trees north of the fort. Cornelia didn’t raise any objections that we could see, but the very first thing I need you to do is find out if they need anything. I want to keep them happy and make it clear that we are their fellow warriors, not their masters or whatever.

“I don’t understand them, and I don’t know how well they understand me, and I need to be sure that we understand each other well enough to cooperate fully.”

“And restrictions on how to approach this?”

“Try not to interfere with the rest of the fort, and try not to get anyone killed. If you’re unsure check with me first, or Captain Nadeen. If you need meat check with the kitchen staff; I’ll tell them.”

“Yessir.”

“Go get your gear from the barracks, Sergeant, and go meet your new friends. Get back to me tomorrow with some initial ideas about who you want for assistants, and what else you might need. Good?

“Yessir,” she replied, standing. “I’ll check in with the Captain tonight and let him know how things are going.”

“Excellent. Don’t hesitate to come talk to me!”

She nodded and left.

“Made your own tea this morning?”

Jake grimaced.

“I’m happy someone killed those assassins,” said Jake, “but would have been happier if things had turned out differently.”

“You sent the dragolet already?”

“Yeah, to Chuang in Celephaïs. I have no idea how long it’ll take to get a response from Mochizuki, though. Or even where she might be, for that matter. Hopefully Chuang will prioritize it.”

“So who’s in charge of the kitchen now?”

“Her second was a woman named Portrisha. She’s a herbalist from Cadharna, but turned out to be a hell of a good manager. Works here now, and except for sticking weird leaves and shit into people’s tea every so often does a good job.

“Nadeen told her she’s in charge now until ‘Ridhi recovers from her sickness’.”

“Are you sure she’s safe?”

“No, but she was born in Cadharna and has been here ever since, long before I ever got here. Nadeen’s keeping a close eye on her anyway, but I doubt she’s involved.”

“Hope you’re right,” said Ekene. “Everyone knows Mochizuki has spies everywhere, but it’s still a shock when you find one in your home. Especially when you trusted her.”

“Mmm, yeah,” mumbled Jake, then “How are you doing with the horses?”

“We’ve played defense for about a dozen charges, and the horses are outstanding. The Horsemaster is not the best tactician I’ve seen, but she can control the herd flawlessly.

“If it were for real I think they’d lose half a dozen horses to my arrows, but we’d be virtually destroyed. If we had pikes we could defend ourselves much better, but then we wouldn’t be Zarite archers.

“There’s no end to it, of course. If the horses were combined with an infantry force the equation is much different, too.”

“But it sounds like you’re quite impressed with them.”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Ekene. “Unquestionably. They are a new weapon for the battlefield, and even though pikes help against a cavalry charge, smart horses is a whole new dimension, and it’ll mean new tactical options for the commander.”

“They should be even more useful when the whole herd is intelligent, not just the alphas.”

“For sure. In addition to learning how to control them and building up the horses’ confidence, this is also building up my troop’s confidence. Most of them have never been on the receiving end of a cavalry charge before, and now they ‘survived’ a dozen of them.

“They all know it’s not the real thing, since the horses veer off at the last minute, but getting used to seeing a thousand kilograms of angry horse charging at you is a good investment. They won’t freeze if it ever happens for real.”

“I’ve never been in a cavalry charge myself...”

“I have. Scared the shit out of me,” said Ekene. “I was a fresh recruit, positioned off to the side, and was lucky. Real lucky, in fact, since surviving that charge and managing to get a few arrows off got me promoted to acting sergeant for a few days, since so many of the troop were dead or injured. Guess I must have impressed someone because they came back to me and made it official a few months later.”

“You should get together with Trooper Borislaw. He’s the Eudoxian lancer in Captain Beghara’s twelve, out here to get a look at how we do things, and I know he’s been working with the Horsemaster. In fact, it wouldn’t hurt for all of you to get a better understanding of cavalry tactics. Wouldn’t hurt me, either—where I come from, ‘cavalry’ means we ride tracks—ASLAVs or Bushmasters or what have you.”

“Tracks? Bushmasters?”

“Sorry. Armored carts, machines, with big guns. My pistol fires 9-mm rounds, but the ASLAV has a dual 25-mm gun. Almost three times larger, and firing like two hundred rounds a minute. Range of two, three kilometers.

“Horses are not used on the battlefield anymore,” he ended bleakly.

“Two or three kilometers!?” gasped Ekene. “That’s... That’s... That’s insane! You can’t have a battle at that distance! That’s slaughter!”

“Things change,” shrugged Jake. “When your enemy has the same weapons, people adapt, and find new ways to kill and not be killed.

“I prefer your style of war... fewer civilian casualties.”

“There are no nations in the Dreamlands, except maybe Thuba Mleen’s Empire of the Sands, so the only armies belong to individual cities, and actions tend to be pretty small. There have been a few times when a city has been besieged, though, and any siege can be real hard on the inhabitants. And the whole region around the city.”

“Believe me when I say even that is better than where I came from,” said Jake. “They have weapons that can...”

He broke off abruptly.

“It’s a different realm. Let it be.”

Ekene, obviously curious to hear what Jake was about to say, pursed his lips but didn’t ask. If the commander says to drop it, a wise captain drops it.

“We’re growing with phenomenal speed,” said Jake, changing the subject. “We’ve got a whole pile of projects underway, including trooper and officer training; smart raptors and horses; improved firearms, optics, and compasses; safer ways to store and use thalassion fire; the new town we’re building; aerial mapping; improving the literacy rate, so much more... and TT and I keep coming up with new things we need to do but just do not have time for.”

“Why?”

Jake stopped and stared at Ekene.

“Why? What do you mean, ‘Why’?”

“The Dreamlands has existed forever, and will no doubt continue to do so. Why do you need to change it so?”

“Why do I...? Change it...? I... Because Thuba Mleen is trying to conquer the Dreamlands, killing everyone who opposes him, and I have to stop him!”

“What would your ASLAVs and Bushmasters do to the Dreamlands, if they were here?”

“With one ASLAV and ammo I could take down Thuba Mleen and all his men in a few weeks.”

“And then what? He ensures that his people have enough food and water, even in times of famine or drought, keeping the caravans moving. Will you continue providing them?”

“So what, you suggest we just let him run rampant?”

“Of course not! But perhaps he is not as wholly evil as you seem to think.”

“The Ibizim seem to share my views.”

“Thuba Mleen is probably Ibizim.”

“He’s what? Ibizim! How is that...?”

“I don’t think anybody really knows, but I’ve heard that the Ibizim and Thuba Mleen both came to the Dreamlands at the same time. The story goes that they were once a single nation, and when they realized they were in a new realm, Thuba Mleen determined to conquer it as he had his own world. Some of his people followed him, but others felt a new realm should mean a new beginning, and broke off to become the Ibizim today.”

“How long ago was this?”

Ekene shrugged.

“This is the Dreamlands. Who knows? Ancient history.”

Jake rotated his empty water cup on the table between his fingertips, around, around, making a tiny scratching noise.

“I’ve never heard that before...” he said finally. “It does explain why the Ibizim and the Emperor of the Sands seem to be primarily fighting each other in the desert, instead of heading for more productive lands.

“You ever hear any rumors about where Thuba Mleen came from?”

“Some say Wakeworld, some say the Eastern reaches, but that’s not much help.”

“Nobody named Thuba Mleen in Wakeworld that I know of. Not under that name, anyway... and if he was as successful a warrior there as he is here, I’d know.

“I’ll ask Nolan and the others if they have any ideas, next time I see them.”

“Master Chuang might know. Or the King.”

“They might, but they never even told me about this Ibizim connection... The Bagatur never mentioned it, either.”

“Would you, if he were one of your people?”

“Well, no, probably not,” agreed Jake. “Well, to get back on subject here, Kosarachi’s going to leave a hole in your twelve for a while. Do you want to get someone to fill it?”

“How long do you expect?”

“I don’t really know, but unless she’s a miracle worker a couple weeks, minimum. Probably a couple months, I’d guess.”

“That’s a long time for Sergeant Kachiside to operate with only five instead of six. Let me talk to him, but as Captain I know I’d want to plug that hole if it’s going to be weeks or more.”

“I figured you would. Are there any good prospects out there?”

There was usually a number of new faces down in Cadharna, or the castle town, hoping to be employed by Scorpius Company. They’d been building a reputation for themselves, and stories of how they defeated Thuba Mleen’s attack and highly exaggerated descriptions of Jake’s pistol only heightened the interest.

Most of them were not good candidates, but the Company always had a hole that needed filling, and every so often the right person for the job would show up and be hired. Paying troopers regularly was a major mark in their favor.

“There are, in fact, but they aren’t from Zar... A good archer is a good archer no matter where they come from, but my twelve is sworn to the High Chief and I can’t just sign people on my own.

“There are a few good troopers at the Zar mission in Rinar, though, and I’ll see if any of them want to give up the city life for an exciting country adventure.”

“Think they will?”

“If they prefer the city life they’re not the sort of person I’d want in my twelve,” laughed Ekene.

“You’re only supposed to be here for another month or so, right? TT’s training program will be done, and then you’re off again to wherever.”

“That was the intent, but to be honest I’ve already asked to stay on here... you’re revolutionizing war, and we can learn so much here. Not to mention see some action.”

“I have no objection, certainly. In fact, I’d been wondering if you might be willing to make it semi-permanent, and maybe even bump it up to a heavy twelve.”

“Another six archers—seven, counting Kosarachi’s replacement? It’ll take me some time to find that many good people, and integrate them properly. Need a new sergeant, too... Is this something you want me to look into for real?”

Jake nodded.

“Yes. Yet another expansion, and we’ll probably need more barracks and a bigger kitchen and six other things if this keeps up, but we also need more archers.

“When do you think you can be set?”

“Depends on how easy it is to find people,” mused Ekene. “I think I’d be better off hiring in Zar than looking here. Long ways from here, so it’ll take weeks at least.”

“Good. That’ll give me time to get set up. Do it.”

“Yessir, I’ll get started on it right away.”

“Thank you, Captain.

“I’m going to call another captains’ meeting for tomorrow, by the way. Working lunch.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good. Captain Chinh will be back today, and Captain Long will be here for the meeting, too.”

“Haven’t had a full meeting for some time.”

“Won’t be full tomorrow, either, Captain.”

Ekene nodded, face suddenly grim as he recalled Ridhi.

“No word yet from Celephaïs?”

“Hardly. Be another couple days at the soonest.”

“It’s hard to believe that Ridhi...”

“Yeah, but we’re stuck with it even if we don’t like it.”

Jake stood.

“Well, thank you for coming, Captain Ekene. Keep me informed on the heavy twelve.”

“I will, sir.”

Ekene left.

* * *

The wyverns made almost two kilometers before they halted for the last time. Another kilometer or so and they would have reached the new campsite, but they were obviously exhausted, and so were Beorhtwig and Ginette. They’d stopped about a dozen times to let the beasts rest: they were obviously in pain but struggling along because their master—Beorhtwig—asked it of them.

“We can finish it tomorrow,” he said. “It means camping here tonight, but I don’t imagine we’ll have any trouble with cats once they notice the wyverns.”

“Hardly! Any predator that sees a wyvern is going to head the other way very quickly, or end up dinner!” laughed Ginette. “You think it’s worth setting up a tent?”

“I’m beat,” he said. “How about just a tarp overhead?”

“Works for me,” she agreed. “Hey, Kassandros! We’re just gonna put up a tarp and stay right here. You guys staying, or going on to the new camp?”

“We were just talking about it,” he replied. “We’re gonna go to the camp now and let them know, but come back here later to share guard duty with you tonight. You’re gonna be already until then?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, Kassandros. Thanks,” said Beorhtwig. “See if you can bring us back one of those ducks they shot, would you? I could really go for some roast duck with my beans.”

“Will do. Might be a couple hours. We’ll be back by sunset, though,” replied the other, and rode on with Mahud.

Beorhtwig walked around Flogdreka, carefully checking his healing wounds.

The exercise had loosened a few of the stitches, but nothing serious. He slathered more ointment over the wounds to keep the bugs off and make sure they didn’t get infected, and looked over to Ginette.

She was almost finished checking Fæger.

“Flogdreka’s all good.” he called. “Just a few loose stitches, and he’s dead tired. You need the ointment?”

“No, I’ve got some,” she replied. “Fæger’s about the same, but I think she probably could’ve walked all the way... She’s being pretty protective.”

“They’re a mated pair, so I’m not surprised.”

“How’d you manage to end up with both of them? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone doing that, except in the stories.”

He explained how it had happened. Ginette hadn’t seen most of it, being too busy defending the wall near the front gate, and nobody had seen the aerial combat when he stole Fæger.

“I wondered why you still have so many fingers,” she said. “Wondered if maybe Flogdreka had bitten off something else...”

He laughed.

“No, I’d be a bit upset at that. I’m all in one piece still, but a lot of me hurts.”

“Let me take a look at your injury, too,” she said. “Plenty of ointment left.”

“Thank you. It’s hard for me to see properly,” he said, stripping off his harness and pulling open his tunic. He had a cloth wrapped around his abdomen, keeping the poultice in place over the wound.

Ginette helped him remove it, and carefully lifted off the poultice.

She looked at the wound closely, placing the palm of her hand on his side near the injury and pressing.

“That hurt?”

“Not really. Doesn’t look inflamed now, either.”

“I think it’s healing up nicely,” she said. “Let me wash off the old stuff and put on some more.”

She poured drinking water over the injury, wiping off the majority of the ointment. The wound was healing clean, it looked like. She pushed and prodded a little to confirm it didn’t hurt much, then applied fresh ointment, and wrapped the cloth around Beorhtwig’s body again.

“Maybe I’d better check if that other appendage is still OK, too. Wanna make sure Flogdreka didn’t bite it off,” she said, sliding her hand down his side and between his legs.

“Hey! That’s...”

His protestations were smothered by Ginette’s lips, and shortly they confirmed that the injury to his side didn’t hurt very much even when he exercised.

Later they lay side by side, surrounded by snoring wyverns, watching the sky slowly dim with approaching dusk.

“I think Fæger really likes you,” he said, tracing a finger down the profile of her cheek. “You haven’t been feeding her fingers or anything, have you?”

“Still have all ten,” she said, and proceeding to prove it by drumming her fingertips over his bare chest. “I dunno, I guess we just fit. She always seems to love it when I scratch her.”

“Or you always know just where it itches. Were you ever a wyver-master?”

“Hardly!” she laughed. “Still have all my fingers, remember? But my pa was a wyver-master, and I pretty much grew up playing with Jamat. Jamat’s his wyvern. Pa was missing two fingers, but he never talked about what happened to the other one.

“Anyway, I used to take care of Jamat all the time, and she’d fly me around. I spent all my spare time with her.”

“You know, I’m pretty much out of Captain Seri’s twelve now. I’m the Scorpius wyvern-master, and it looks like I won’t be going back. With two wyverns, though, I’m gonna need someone to help me...”

“Are you offering me a job?”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, hugging her close, “I thought that’s why you seduced me!”

“Seduced you!?” she laughed, pushing his down and straddling him. “I was just attending to your injury! And you took advantage of me!”

“You mind if I do it again?” he asked, reaching up.

“I used to hate officers who did this to their troopers,” she said, “but somehow it doesn’t seem to bother me too much anymore. Yes, do it!”

By the time Kassandros and Mahud returned they were both asleep.

“Well, looks like they’re getting along just fine, doesn’t it?” chuckled Mahud, glancing at their naked bodies, glistening reddish in the sunset.

“Doesn’t look like we’ll get much help on guard duty tonight, though,” agreed Kassandros. “Lucky bastard.”

They woke to the aroma of roasting duck, and sheepishly joined the other two troopers at the campfire.

“The wyverns are just snoring away, aren’t they?” said Mahud. “Must be pretty tired after that walk.”

“They’re built for flying, not walking,” said Beorhtwig. “But they made it this far in spite of their injuries. We’ll make it the rest of the way tomorrow without any problem, I’m sure.”

“It’s not far at all,” said Kassandros. “We really didn’t need the horses to come back here; could’a walked it in about the same time.”

“Good. Tomorrow we can enjoy a real tent, then.”

Kassandros and Majud exchanged glances.

Ginette coughed into the silence. “You know, the wyverns are only supposed to live in the north, where it’s cold... That’s what I was always told, anyway. And there aren’t many wyverns down here, if any, except this pair. And the one that died.”

“It isn’t really tropical around here, but it sure isn’t glacier country, either,” agreed Beorhtwig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “I was wondering about that myself, then things got busy and I forgot all about it.”

“So where did Thuba Mleen get them? How come they’re not dead of the heat?”

“And if he found them somewhere, are there more of them?”

“But how can we... Of course! Once the wyverns are healed, we should be able to get them to fly back ‘home,’ wherever home is,” cried Ginette.

“What if that’s Bleth, or worse, Thuba Mleen’s palace?”

“Would they fly back there?”

“We don’t have any idea how they were treated there,” said Beorhtwig. “There aren’t any scars like that on their bodies, but who knows? Maybe he fed them fresh liver every day!”

“Did they show any interest in Bleth before you got attacked?”

“None. And Fæger showed no loyalty to her rider before I killed him.”

“Stupid man. How can you fly a wyvern and not attach your lifeline?”

“Well, he paid for it. But they came after me from the top of Mt. Thartis. And I heard that someone had seen smoke from high up on the mountain... I wonder if they were being kept there?”

“Thartis is snow-capped all year... plenty cold enough for wyverns!”

“I think once they’re better, I’ll fly up that way and have a look... want to see if they’ve been using it since, too. If they don’t have any more wyverns or airships, nobody should have been there since the battle at the fort.”

“You thinking of using it yourself?”

“Why not? Thuba Mleen can’t use it if he can’t fly, and these two would love the cold, I’m sure.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why they can withstand the heat down here,...” said Ginette. “Um... when you go, can I go with you?”

“Fine with me, as long as Captain Nadeen says OK.”

“I’ll convince her,” she said. “And besides, I think Fæger likes me.”

“She does, doesn’t she? She doesn’t let many people get up close and scratch her like that...”

“I wonder if it’s because we’re... you know...”

“But we weren’t, before.”

“Maybe because I’ve been taking care of you all? Or maybe she just knew it before we did.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Have you ever tried mounting her?”

“You mean, up in the saddle? No, never!”

“Let’s try it. There’s still enough light... Bareback, too much trouble to put the saddle on.”

He walked over to the wyvern and patted her on the neck.

“How about it, Fæger? You in the mood?”

Ginette joined him, stretching out her hand slowly.

A huge forked tongue rasped across her outstretched palm—Fæger obviously liked her.

“OK, up you go!” said Beorhtwig, interlacing his fingers to form a step.

She stepped up, leaning against the wyvern’s flank, and scrambled to her back, pulling herself up by the wyvern’s dorsal spines. They weren’t very big, but they were hard, bony, and more than strong enough to support her. The saddle was designed to protect the rider from the spines, and without the saddle she really couldn’t sit atop Fæger very easily.

Instead, she lay down along the wyvern’s back, one arm and one leg hanging onto the spines, her head tight against its scaly back.

“Well, I’ll be damned...” breathed Beorhtwig. “She’s purring!”

* * *

“Bagatur? You have a minute?”

“Of course, Commander,” he said, tapping the dottle out and dropping the pipe into its pouch. He was never without pipe and tobacco, but, strangely, rarely smoked. “I was just admiring the sunset.”

Jake sat down on the wall next to him, looking out over the road up from the grassland toward the sunset. The sun has already dropped below the Mohaggers but the sky was still streaked with red and orange.

“I was talking with Captain Ekene earlier, about the raptors, and he said something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“He said that Thuba Mleen was an Ibizim.”

Khasar was silent.

“You ever hear anything like that, Khasar?”

“It could be true,” admitted the Bagatur slowly. “Or almost true. It’s not something we like to talk about.

“We Ibizim have always lived here on the eastern continent. The lands known as the Eastern Desert were once green forests and plains, and the Ibizim lived mostly in peace. Thuba Mleen came here from somewhere, else, some say Wakeworld, some say the East, and lived among us.

“But now you’re enemies.”

“Yes. Something happened. It is said that he tried to make himself ruler, killing matriarchs and building his own army. There was civil war as factions fought, and many died. Our forests and plains were destroyed by some magic, leaving only the sere desert.

“We—my Ibizim—fled, hiding in Xinaián, the Sunless Roads of the Children of the Night. Others fled to the mountains, hiding in their crags and gorges. Thuba Mleen hunted us for years, until we reached a stalemate of sorts, and began his program of conquest, razing and looting cities that did not pay his price.

“We purchased peace by paying a ransom, a tax, to Thuba Mleen, but never trusted that our compact would hold. And over the years he has gradually raised that tax until it threatens our very existence, and our choice is to fight or wither away.

“We know the Sunless Roads, but we cannot withstand his forces, and must strike from the shadows. Revealing ourselves to him might mean the destruction of yet another Home, the death of so many of my people.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Wakeworld, I thought, but nobody knows.”

“I don’t know the name Thuba Mleen from my realm. Certainly no famous conqueror or ruler!”

“I have heard that he was once a god.”

Jake snorted.

“Yeah, well, I’m not much of a believer in gods. Magic, yeah, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, but gods? Nah.”

“Matriarch Geriel would know, I imagine, if she will tell you.”

“She never mentioned it, either. The Matriarch knows the facts of the matter?”

“Oh, certainly. She was there.”

“There? What do you mean, ‘there’?”

“She was one of the matriarchs who survived Thuba Mleen’s attacks, and fled with her people.”

“Just how long ago was all this?”

“Generations upon generations... I think about three grand dozen of years.”

Jake did the calculations in his head. A grand dozen was one hundred and forty-four, so three of those would be almost... five centuries!

Which meant that the Matriarch was at least five hundred years old, maybe a hell of lot older.

He stood, looking out at the dark red sky.

“Thank you, Bagatur Khasar, for being honest with me.”

“Always, Commander, always.”

* * *

Captain Long arrived at Fort Danryce early the following morning, and promptly reported to Jake.

“The wyverns seem to be recovering well,” he said, after sitting down and accepting a cup of tea. “Yesterday we managed about two kilometers from the lake, on foot, and my troop is getting the wyverns over the last kilometer now. The new camp is ready and waiting, but of course it’s only temporary, too.”

“Can they fly?”

“Trooper Beorhtwig says it would strain their wounds. Too dangerous yet. Trooper Ginette, on loan from Captain Nadeen’s twelve, agrees with him. They, um, seem to be extremely close to each other... I think there’s going to be a problem there.”

“Is someone jealous about it? Or do you just mean in general?”

“In general, as far as I know, but I’d like to check with Captain Nadeen or her sergeant to make sure there isn’t anything I need to know.”

“Is she needed?”

“I think so. The wyverns trust her, and eat from her hand. One of the them—the bess—even let her climb up on her back. The bull doesn’t seem to mind her, either.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Trooper Beorhtwig has been on an indefinitely extended leave from Seri’s twelve, and she must be getting pretty tired of that. He’s obviously the best man for to handle the wyverns.

“Have you thought of making it permanent? Transferring him out of Seri’s troop officially, and setting him up as his own command? Maybe even as a sergeant?”

“It had crossed my mind but it didn’t seem to be an urgent issue... sort of got forgotten.”

“Might be a good time to consider it. And transfer this Trooper Ginette to the same unit.”

“One from Nadeen’s twelve, one from Seri’s twelve... a wyvern brigade!”

“Or possibly an air force, if you want to think about integrating the airship, too.”

“The airship is on loan from the King. As is the crew.”

“Another indefinitely extended temporary position,” countered Long. “I wonder if the King would object to transferring it to you officially.”

Jake pursed his lips.

“I know there are other airships, airships not owned by the King. Factor Chóng mentioned it to me once; I think he has been asking the King for one himself.

“Master Chuang is expected here next week; I’ll ask him about it. For now, though, I like the idea of making Beorhtwig and the wyverns independent. With this Ginette, if you feel appropriate. I’ll have to check with Nadeen and Seri, of course, but I suspect they’ll be happy to plug the holes in their troops.

“When do you expect the wyverns will be ready to fly again?”

“I can’t say for sure, Commander, but based on what I’ve seen so far I’d guess another week or so. They recover phenomenally quickly.”

“Good, good.”

“I must leave now. The full moon is tonight, and while the new camp is well away from the lake, I want to be there just in case.”

“Need anything?”

“Alright if I take a keg of ale?”

“Help yourself!” waved Jake.

i>

* * *

Captain Long got back to the camp in the late afternoon, and was welcomed back with a round of cheering as everyone saw the keg of ale strapped to his saddle.

It was still a rough camp, but since they didn’t expect to be attacked out here in the uninhabited grasslands, they’d been able to spend more effort on making it comfortable instead of making it defensible. There were still two troopers on guard, of course, but they also had a proper firepit and latrine.

“The Commander suggested we might enjoy this since we’re stuck out here in the wilds,” he said as he dismounted. “There’s not enough to get drunk with unless one of you pigs takes the whole thing, but there’ll be a cupful for each!”

“Always nice when a captain thinks of his troops,” said Sergeant Chen. “Pity you didn’t bring a couple kegs, but this’ll do just fine.”

“I should’ve asked Captain Ridhi for more,” said Long. “Come to think of it, she wasn’t there. Portrisha was giving out all the orders and looked angry... She told me to help myself to one.”

“Probably off buying turnips or something... whatever, as long as you got it!”

Long set the keg down and started walking through the camp, inspecting the defenses, minimal as they were.

“You expecting trouble?”

“Not really, Sergeant Chen, but we’re still too close to the lake for my comfort... I don’t know what happens on the night of the full moon, and don’t know what those moon creatures look like or do, but I find it very disconcerting that nobody else knows, either.”

“Disconcerting? Why?”

“The Lake of Sarnath should attract people: it’s got water, fish, maybe even sunken treasure. And I’m sure lots of people have come looking. So why isn’t there anyone alive who knows what happens during the full moon?”

Chen chewed that over for minute.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll add another trooper to the guard tonight...”

The two of them checked the perimeter, altering the troopers to the possible dangers of the night, and making a few changes to the perimeter.

They also stopped to check on the wyverns, of course, which is why they were out here in the first place.

“Any problems from the march?”

“Not that we’ve noticed, Captain,” said Beorhtwig. “They seem largely unchanged, and since they ate well yesterday they’re probably just going to sleep all day and night.”

“Must be nice... eat and sleep all you want,” muttered Chen.

“I’m sure it is,” agreed Ginette, “but of course you also have to fight off a couple dozen eagles every so often.”

“Yeah, there is that...”

“Let me know if anything changes, Trooper. We don’t know what to expect tonight, so be careful.”

“Yessir,” nodded Beorhtwig.

“What do you think, Chen?” asked the captain as they walked back toward the firepit. “Anything I need to know?”

“We’re all good, Captain. The troops are acting like they’re on holiday, but they’re keeping their weapons sharp and at hand.”

Long nodded.

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Wild pig,” smiled Chen. “They wanted to argue with the hunting party.”

“Not too used to hunters, then.”

“Nope. Maybe all the smart ones took off when we arrived.”

“Smart, dumb, whatever... roast pig all tastes the same.”

The moon was already rising in the west, hanging enormous over the Mohaggers, and as sunset approached it was framed by reddish clouds. Blood red, thought Long, but kept the thought to himself.

As it began to grow darker, Beorhtwig approached.

“Captain, the wyverns are acting strange. They keep raising their heads and sniffing the air. They don’t look scared, I don’t think, but they’re nervous about something, or scent something unknown.”

“This happen before?”

“Not like this! Both of them are acting strange.”

“What do you think?”

“No idea; I’ve never seen them get this agitated before... and they’ve seen a full moon before, many times.”

“But they’ve never been on the shores of the Lake of Sarnath for a full moon,” mused Captain Long. “Sergeant Chen! We might be in for an interesting night... you and your six get some sleep, and I’ll handle guard duty with mine.

“Keep your weapons at hand.”

“Yessir,” said Chen, and went to spread the word.

Long turned back to Beorhtwig.

“You need anything from me?”

“Not now,” answered the other, “but no way of telling where this is going.”

“Keep me informed.”

“Yessir, I will.”

Captain Long walked over to the fire and doused it. It wasn’t so cold they couldn’t do without a fire, and the light would make them visible for kilometers to anything looking down. Like a ship from the moon.

A few hours later the moon was at zenith, glaring down on the campsite with harsh, silver light that sapped color from everything, painting the world in black and grey.

“Captain!”

It was Yafeu, the Zarite archer, known for his phenomenal eyesight.

“Some sort of mist is rising from the lake,” he called. “And there’s something up in the sky.”

Long looked up.

He couldn’t see anything, but suddenly he noticed the stars winking out: something black was moving across the heavens, hiding their light. He followed the blackness as it traveled across his field of view, flying toward the increasingly dense mists from the lake. They couldn’t see the lake at night, of course, or even the rock of Akurion that soared up out of the waters in daylight, but the mist was making it hard to see anything to the north at all, even the distant mountains and the night horizon.

A long, whistling shriek cut the night. The wyverns!

He ran toward them. Both wyverns on their feet, shuffling, wings folding and unfolding, heads sniffing the air.

Beorhtwig and Ginette were there, trying to calm them down.

“What is it?”

“Something in the sky!” shouted Ginette. “They’re getting angry at something!”

Chen’s six was up now, awakened by the noise. He’d been about to wake them anyway.

The blackness vanished into the mist, and Long strained his ears to hear what was happening.

He heard nothing. No, wait... there was something, just at the edge of his hearing... Singing? Crying? A high, shrill sound, drilling into his skull.

He shook his head to clear it, and the keening sliced into his thoughts, drowning them in a a jumble of light and sound and taste, sensations jumbled together in a maelstrom.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t...

His feet! He was walking, shuffling toward the lake!

He tried to stop, but his body wouldn’t obey him.

It belonged to the moon creatures, calling him to them.

He strained, struggled, helplessly, until... another shriek cut through the fog in his brain.

The wyverns!

They shrieked again and again, driving the fog back, louder than the singing from the lake, giving him time to think.

He looked around.

Two or three troopers, the ones closest to the wyverns, were still, shaking their heads and trying to recover, but the rest shuffled north, toward the lake, mouth hanging open, hands drooping at their sides with weapons forgotten, eyes bulging, twitching left and right in search of escape, helpless.

“Rope! Use rope and tie their legs together!” he shouted to everyone, and tackled the nearest dazed trooper, knocking her over and quickly tying her ankles together with his rope belt. “Beorhtwig, Ginette! Bring the wyverns up, closer!”

He had no time to see what they did, and ran toward the next trooper. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mahud, who had been near the wyverns, knock over another trooper and tie him up.

He heard stamping behind him. The wyverns were coming, shrieking as they came, driving the hideous song farther and farther away, and as they approached, more and more of the troopers stopped, suddenly in control of their bodies, collapsing where they stood.

He counted... his troopers, plus Beorhtwig and Ginette. Two missing. Who was missing?

Erden and Nafiz, both young swordsmen who had been on guard that night.

“Can you see anyone still walking?” he shouted, and the troopers who could turned to look into the tall grass, swaying back and forth in the breeze.

There was no one in sight.

About half an hour later the wyverns grew still, fell silent, and the sounds of the grassland at night filled the air. The insects, the frogs, a bird... the high-pitched piping of the moon creatures was gone.

And with it went Erden and Nafiz, gone without a trace.

* * *

“TT, got a sec?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Jake?”

“Walk with me a second, will you?”

TT fell in beside Jake as he walked down the vegetable field. It was after the evening meal, and the full moon painted the world in black and white. There was no one around to hear them.

“Nadeen and I have been talking,” he started. “Our plans have changed, now that she’s pregnant.”

“Yeah, I figured you had plans you hadn’t told us about. And getting pregnant changes a lot of things.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen until some other things were done,” said Jake. “And it means we have to accelerate some things.”

“Like?”

“You’ve been a good friend to me, TT, and not just because we’re two guys from our world stuck here.”

“Yeah, I think we’re solid.”

Jake stopped.

“Can I ask you to look after Nadeen if anything happens to me?”

“Jake, you didn’t even have to ask,” said TT, sticking his hand out and clapping Jake on the shoulder with the other. “Of course I will, but let’s hope it never comes to that.”

“Thank you, TT. I hope it doesn’t, too, but you never know... After a few problems are cleaned up, there’ll be a lot of changes around here, and you’ll be right in the middle of all of them. I don’t want to go into details just yet—it’s just me and Nadeen right now—but maybe this will convince you I really trust you.”

He pulled two small, heavy items out of a bag and handed them over.

“That messenger from Chóng gave them to me yesterday. Took him a hell of a long time to find them. Or get them.”

“Holy shit, Jake! Two boxes!”

“.40-cal ammo, factory-fresh for your convenience.”

“A hundred rounds. Damn!”

“Now aren’t you glad you kept that pistol clean?”

“Jake, I... thanks, Jake. I owe you.”

“Consider it payment for services rendered, TT. And an advance, if needed.”

“Will do, Commander. Are there more where these came from?”

“Chóng said probably not, but I asked him to keep looking. Got some for myself, too. 9 mil.”

“Good. Let’s see those fuckers try another attack now. Might come as quite a surprise.”

Jake chuckled.

“As long as they don’t have any of their own,” he warned. “Chóng warned me that firearms have been showing up here and there. He says they’re doing what they can to buy, steal, or destroy them, but it’s an uphill battle.”

“But they trust us?”

“I think so. For now at least. And we have to keep it that way.”

“You plan on getting more for the captains, or the troops?”

“Not now. Maybe later,” said Jake. “I think that would piss the King right off, and considering all the things he says he did, I don’t want to piss off the King anytime soon. Or Mochizuki.”

“Yeah, good move.”

“Keep it to yourself, TT.”

“I will, Jake. And thanks for trusting me.”

“Good night, TT.”

“Good night, sir.”

Jake walked back to his quarters and joined Nadeen on the futons.

He reached down to lay his hand on her abdomen.

“You can’t feel anything yet, you silly man,” said Nadeen, placing her hand atop his.

“I know. But I like it here,” he said, circling her navel with his fingertip.

The bright moon shone in the window, illuminating the room and their futons.

“I talked to TT, and gave him the ammo,” he said. “He’s with us, but I asked him to wait until later for the whole story.”

“He doesn’t mind trusting us blind?”

“He’s a Marine. They always work blind; he’s used to it.”

“I trust your judgment,” she said, and snuggled closer.

* * *

The gong was sounding the alarm, and the fort boiled up like a beehive under attack.

Nadeen was first out the door, shouting for an update as she ran toward the wall, and Jake dashed after her only to skid to a stop.

The trooper in front of him was standing still, looking up.

He looked up, in the same direction.

Something huge.

Was it a bird? A wyvern?

God, it was enormous!

There was a man riding it, and if he was Jake’s height, that thing must be the size of a house!

Huge wings stretching out, gray scales flashing in the sun, a head that looked more like a horse than a bird... what the fuck?

“A shantak!” breathed the guard standing next to him. “We’re doomed!”

The aerial nightmare drew its wings in, pointing its hippocephalic head at the fort, and dove towards them.

END