"HAG OF THE DESERTS: Garden of Blades"

[dochermes]

"HAG OF THE DESERT: Garden of Blades"

5/12-5/22/2002


I.

In the nearly empty changing room with its highly polished cedar walls and floors, Megan Salenger reluctantly removed her clothing. She had not brought any of the advanced KDF equipment with her, not the suit of silk-thin armor nor the communications Link nor the anesthetic dart gun. It was an unassuming pile of Navy blue slacks, longsleeved white blouse, simple pumps and panties that she neatly folded on the floor.

At twenty-three, the Trom Girl had the sleek athletic body of a swimmer or gymnast, with small firm breasts and narrow hips. She stood three inches over five feet tall, with a shock of tousled black hair over a foxlike inquisitive face. One benefit of having been raised by the cold super-rational Trom was that she had always followed a planned dietary and exercise regimen. Megan was about as healthy as a Human could reasonably achieve.

Hanging from a simple hook on the door was a white robe. She pulled it on, finding it had apparently been selected for her individually. The one-piece garment of thin linen had long sleeves which reached exactly to her wrists and its hem cleared the floor by an inch. There were no pockets and no hood. As she let the robe drape her, Megan felt an unaccustomed uneasiness.

It was rare that she could not contact her team. Nor her superiors on the Trom Council. She had no way to communicate with the outside world unless through chance or reconnaisance she found a telephone. Even though she had known this coming in, the siotuation still troubled her. Megan stood up straight, squared her narrow shoulders and left the changing room to face five of the Desert Kin.

They were all young women, well under thirty, and it seemed they had been deliberately chosen to represent an ethnic variety. One was a tall thin black girl with an oval face and short-cropped hair, one a pale redhead with green eyes and a snub nose, one curvy girl either Greek or Sicilian. Of the remaining two, one seemed Southeast Asian, possibly Vietnamese and the final Desert Kin was definitely from Central Mexico with some Mayan in her background. The assortment could not be accidental, Megan reflected. And they were all very good-looking, bordering on gorgeous. Their teeth and skin were perfect, their figures slim or voluptuous as appropriate, their hair shiny.

What she really found unsettling was the fixed smiles on their faces. They all looked so pleased with life and so beatific that it alarmed her. Their attitudes seemed forced. "I guess I'm ready," she announced with as much confidence as she could manage.

"Dear one, Sister, we will escort you to the garden," said the Vietnamese girl. "Be of good cheer. You have placed your feet on the correct path."

"Blessed be Our Lady of the Desert," added the black girl, still smiling as she placed a hand on Megan's back and gently pushed her toward the door.

Going along with the Desert Kin, the Trom Girl padded on bare feet along cold stone floors far beneath the earth. Soft diffused light came from indirect panels set high up on the bare sandstone walls. At long intervals, the corridor diverged into a Y-shape and they invariably went to the left. Several times, another of the Desert Kin hurried past on some mission, carrying bundles or sheaves of papers, and everyone smiled pleasantly as they passed.

Eventually, they arrived at double doors of polished cedar set at the end of the corridor. The five young women all gave each other immensely pleased smiles as they pressed the doors inward and urged Megan through, yet they themselves did not continue but remained outside. She went through into the chamber beyond.

Uncertain how to proceed, the Trom Girl stared around at a huge high-ceiling room filled with greenery. Many of the plants she did not recognize, including huge purple orchids three feet across and pointed ferns that swirled upward in spirals. The air was warm and damp, so fragrant that it made her dizzy.

Coming to meet her was a tall woman in one of the white robes. Just under six feet in height, solidly built, she had an imposing presence. She was the first of the Desert Kin that Megan had met who was middle-aged, with strong severe features and watchful hazel eyes. The thick black hair had strands of silver in it.

"Greeting, little Sister," she announced and indicated a plain stone bench. As the woman lowered herself to one end, Megan compliantly sat down with her body turned to face the leader of the Desert Kin.

"I don't know how to address you," the Trom Girl said.

"Call me Sister Lily for now," the older woman replied. "Your own name has not been revealed to before now. It is Sister Crocus."

"The first flower of Spring where I come from," Megan said. "Yes, I like that."

"It is well-suited to you." The same complacent half-smile touched the lips of Sister Lily. "You have been accepted here after passing hard trials and proving sincerity. The Wisdom of the Night is not given lightly."

So true, Megan thought. Her cover identity as 'Avery Scott' of Binghamton, New York, had been painstakingly prepared two years ago when she had first become a KDF member and a Tel Shai knight. Phone calls and searches of local newspapers would confirm that Avery Scott was a real if undistinguished person who had moved to Manhattan for a job as an intern at a real estate agency. Even personal visits to the office where she allegedly worked or the school she had supposedly attended would provide confirmation. Every KDF member had two such separate cover identies created with considerable pains and expense.

"Soon, you will be granted audience with Our Lady," Sister Lily said but her voice sounded like it was coming from an increasing distance. "The great privilege of being able to help her in her Work will be yours. Soon, Sister Crocus, you will assist in bringing the Wisdom of the Night to a suffering world which desperately needs it."

Megan was vaguely aware of the woman's pleasant contralto voice but everything else was becoming foggy. Was she getting enough oxygen? All these potent scents from the thousands of flowers added to a smothering aroma. Particularly, the scent of the deep purple orchids almost touching her face washed over her.

The Trom Girl involuntarily relaxed and let the soothing warmth and mixed fragrances flood her senses. All the stern discipline of her upbringing by the cold scientific non-Human minds of another Race fell away like a cast-off robe. She did not realize that she was now smiling in the same complacent way as the other Desert Kin.

II.


"We haven't done that well against the others of the Three Sisters," grumbled Sheng Mo-Yuan. "We didn't even confront the Hag of the Mountains. And the Hag of the Seas got away without a scratch."

"I know you're worried about Megan," his captain said. Lauren Sable Reilly was holding the curtain aside, staring out the window of the conference room down at East 38th Street. Manhattan traffic was as frantic as ever. Her special gralic ability involved enhanced perception. She could without difficulty hear a tissue fall in a darkened room or read a newspaper from across the street. "It's been three days since she went in. I expected her to find a way to contact us to at least let us know she's okay."

"Sending her alone to the stronghold of the Hag of the Desert never seemed like a good idea," replied Sheng. The young Chujiran stood up from the long oak table where generations of heroes had sat. He raised both hands palms up and clenched them. "I don't like not knowing what's going on."

Sable turned to face him. She kept her manner neutral. The oldest of the new team of Tel Shai knights, she took her leadership role as seriously as she took everything else in a life of competitive over-achievement. Sable usually dressed more formally than her teammates. Today she was wearing a black pantsuit with thin blue pinstripes and a cream-colored silk blouse, what Unicorn teased her as 'the news anchor get-up.'

"It was the only way we could find to get any information at all about the Hag of the Desert," she told her partner. "And you do know Megan is a literal genius raised from infancy to develop self-control. Of us all, she's the best suited for infiltration."

"Oh, I know that," Sheng admitted. At five feet five, the Chujiran was the same height at Sable but naturally wider and more solid. He looked Northern Chinese at first glance, but the beaked eagle nose and high cheekbones brought that into question. His bright red T-shirt and denim jeans revealed a well defined athletic build. "And nothing from Josef or Unicorn?"

"Not since their last scheduled report. They are taking shifts, watching the Desert Kin fortress as closely as they can. No one has left the building except for two women in a Jeep who were definitely not Megan. Their CORBY sensors indicated no heat signature of anyone hidden on the Jeep, either."

Sheng made a disgusted noise. "Captain, I know I should be patient. But undercover work goes against all my instincts. I think we should gather the team, get Jeremy and Cindy and any allies we can contact, and then just crash into that stronghold like lightning striking."

"We do have our CORBY upstairs, ready for wheels-up in five minutes," she said. "That was why I wanted Josef and Ashley to get the standby copter from Hawk Island. We don't often use both CORBYs on a mission."

"What about simply attacking and getting this over with?" repeated Sheng.

For a moment, Sable did not respond. She studied the Chujiran's eager face before saying, "We don't know that the Hag of the Desert herself is even there. If we take out some of her lieutenants, ruin one stronghold, it won't stop her operation. From what little we know, she has several other bases in deserts around the world. The Gobi. The Sahara. Australia. We know the Hag brainwashes her operatives and that she uses them for assassination, extortion and high-level theft. There's enough to justify going after her organization. But we need to learn more."

Standing up, Sable folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, "I don't like this waiting any more than you do, Sheng, but I think it's the best approach."

"Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown," he said.

"Leadership has its burdens," Sable agreed.

III.

Coming out of a daze, Megan vaguely realized she must have slept and showered because she felt rested and her hair was damp. The white robe seemed the same as the one she had been wearing. There was a clue that she had spent some time in the lush garden as well, because the fragrance clung to her freshly.

Getting an awareness back, she found she was sitting on a bench against the wall in a room nearly empty except for thin hard mats on the floor and an open rack that held a startling array of hand-to-hand weapons. Some of her normal alertness snapped back. Most of those lethal devices were of Asian origin. The tonfa, a pair of Sai, spears and staffs and Tiger Forks. A three-section staff, notoriously hard to master, hung from hooks.

The presence of those weapons was a warning but Megan had been clearing her mind in any case. As an infant still in the cradle, she had been claimed by the Trom Council to be raised as an expert in a dozen hard sciences and with an organized mind able to work on more than one level at a time. She felt fuzzy-headed as if coming down with the flu, but her brain fought to regain its normal acuity.

As a door opened in the opposite wall, the Trom Girl sat up straighter and remembered to affix that simple-minded grin on her face. It was coming back to her just how much danger she was in.

Sister Lily led two younger Desert Kin into the room. All were barefoot, wrapped in the short cotton robes without pockets or sashes. Megan did not remember meeting either one of them before, but with the foggy gaps in her memory, she couldn't be sure if that meant anything. One of the Kin was about five feet eight and quite athletic-looking, with well-defined muscles showing in her bare arms and legs. The other was short and almost stocky, the least attractive woman she had seen here yet, although still presentable.

All three had that vapid half-smile on their faces. The Trom Girl had come to detest that facial expression with a venom she seldom felt. She rose to her feet and grinned back.

"Greetings, Sister Crocus," said the taller woman. "Please address me as Sister Violet. The time has come when your area of contribution to the great Work must be decided. Do not be concerned, we have found that everyone has a particular aptitude which is of service to Our Lady of the Desert."

"I am gratified, dear one," Megan replied with her head bowed. "If I can serve Our Lady in any way, I will feel my life is justified." The groveling phrases had been beaten into her brain by repetition during the past few days.

"Please step forward," said Sister Violet, taking a stance on the mats. "In your submission to the Kin, you mentioned you had been taking self-defense courses for the past two years."

"Yes. But I cannot claim any expertise, Sister Violet," Megan replied. "I was really trying to build confidence."

"We shall see." The older woman raised her fists and began to circle lightly to Megan's left. "Brief sparring, with only the lightest of contact, dear one."

Hearing this, Megan decided she would have to act clumsy and uncertain to avoid suspicion. In fact, she had undergone two years of intense study of Kumundu under Teacher Chael.. the man who had taught Jeremy Bane, Shiro Mitsuru, Golden Sun and many other masters. Megan made herself swallow nervously and turned on her left foot to keep facing her opponent.

Unexpectedly, Sister Violent attacked fast and hard, stepping in close and hooking a sharp right hook toward the younger woman's jaw. Megan's muscle memory took over instantly. She deflected that punch past her with a soft palm block, stepping behind Sister Violet as she did so, and cracking an elbow deep between the woman's shoulder blades with brutal force. Sister Violet gasped and fell to her knees.

Megan barely managed to keep from launching a follow-up blow to finish her opponent. "Oh my God," she whined. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Getting up on fingers and toes, Sister Violet swung one leg parallel to the mats in an attempt to sweep Megan off her feet. The Trom Girl hopped nimbly up off the floor so that the attempt passed under her. As she dropped down, Megan landed with a knee to the pit of Sister Violet's stomach, driving all the air out of her lungs.

Again, her Kumundu training had taken over automatically. Megan made herself stumble as she rose, nearly losing her balance and holding out both arms to steady herself. "Oh my. Oh," she breathed. "I didn't mean to hurt her." But even as she said this, she was ready for any attack from the other two Desert Kin.

To her immense gratification, the Trom Girl saw that those inane smiles had finally been wiped off the women's face, replaced by open-mouthed surprise. A second later, the half-grins returned but she had the satisfaction of knowing they had been stunned for a second.

"You seem to have a natural gift for confrontation," observed Sister Lily. "Did you fight in tournaments by any chance?"

"Who? Me? No, no." Megan caught herself and resumed the humility expected in this cult. "Forgive me, older Sister. I did practice my lessons at night for some time. They have proved more effective than I would have hoped."

"Indeed," the older woman said, regaining her imperious manner. "It seems you can best serve the Wisdom of the Night in this specialty. You will be trained to belong to the Hands That Correct, rather than the Hands That Caress or the Hands That Collect. Sister Rose, see that our dear one has not been harmed."

As the Desert Kin assisted the gasping cultist up onto her feet and helped her walk around, Megan digested with a cold jolt what she had just heard. The Hands That Correct sounded like this group's flowery way of referring to an enforcement arm... either tough fighters or outright assassins. But that meant she had also been considered for whatever the Hands That Caress might be and she didn't like the sound of that at all. The Trom had raised her with extremely prim views about sex and she had never even kissed a man at this point.

The two younger Desert Kin left the room, but Sister Lily remained. Megan was forming a theory that this older woman was not just a senior member of this outpost but a lieutenant reporting directly to the Hag of the Desert... or possibly the Hag herself interacting with a promising new recruit while keeping a certain anonymity. She bowed her head and said to the woman, "It gladdens me to be of service."

"Indeed. Sister Hyacinth will begin your training as a Hand of Correction tomorrow. Your mind and body will be pushed past what you think are your limits, but I feel certain you are up to the task. Come with me to the Garden. Sister Mimosa will deliver a message for you and a few other new dear ones about the history of this great project."

"Oh. There is nothing I would rather learn about, Sister Lily." And for once since she had infiltrated this sect, the Trom Girl was speaking absolute truth.

IV.

At thirty thousand feet, the black stealthcopter CORBY hovered as steadily as if somehow nailed into place. A glass of water on the empty co-pilot seat would have hardly shown vibration. These craft were not combustion motor vehicles but ran on Trom impulse engine which would not need recharging for decades. Someone had once described a CORBY as "a spaceship disguised as a helicopter," which was accurate enough. The KDF were only allowed to use the Trom technology in the CORBYS because Megan Salenger's membership gave her access to the knowledge only found at the Order of Tel Shai.

It was an arrangement that benefitted both sides.

In the pilot seat, watching the advanced sensor screens, Josef Jubilec showed no signs of discomfort after ten hours on duty. The Blind Archer was a tall lean man with short sandy hair and a weathered face that made him seem older than he actually was. He was wearing the black field suit but had left the helmet clipped to the back of his seat. "Still nothing," he said over one shoulder. "I'm going to listen to the BBC WORLD REPORT."

In the compartment behind the cabin, through the sliding clear partition, Unicorn sang back, "Fine with me. When it's my shift, I'm gonna blast some of the Plungers and maybe the Jupiter Twelve Band though, just saying."

"You're within your rights," Josef answered absently. He had accounts with several clients in Europe and he kept track of political unrest that might mean his specialty would be needed.

Seated on the metal floor of the rear compartment, Ashley Whitaker had stripped down to sit on a towel. She was wiping her body thoroughly with alcohol swabs from a big case she had taken out of supplies. Barely five feet tall and no more than one hundred pounds, the Unicorn was a gorgeous twenty-year-old with long platinum blonde hair and crystal blue eyes in a piquant little face. She stowed the used swabs in a plastic trash bag.

Her nudity did not concern her in the least. After two years of expeditions to various adjacent realms and camping for weeks everywhere from the Upper Amazon to the Australian Outback, the KDF members had gotten used to seeing each other without clothing. That they had all helped patch each other up after fierce battles and had nursed each other through severe illness helped their familiarty.

Finishing, the little blonde clasped the container of alchohol swabs shut and fixed it to a clamp to hold it steady. Jumping up, Ashley wriggled into the full-body suit of flexible Trom armor. Thin as silk but offering more protection than thick Kevlar, the armor left only her head, hands and feet exposed. Then she climbed into the snug black pants and crewneck shirt of the field suit, shrugging on the waist-length jacket last.

"I think I'll leave the boots off," she announced. "My toes need to wiggle and air out."

"Fine," her teammate said.

"You know, Josef," Ashley said, "I love ya for what you are, but I really wish the Blind Archers had let your sense of humor develop. You're a stiff."

"I suppose," he answered, turning his head to look back at her. "Maybe I'm missing out on something, but I'm used to my personality. Are you ready to start your shift?"

"Sure. I wish I could shampoo my poor hair, it's been three days. Oh, the life of a Tel Shai knight is hardship." The small blonde wriggled easily through the partition and settled into the co-pilot seat. She tightened the restraint straps diagonally over her chest and across her shins. "All set, buddy."

The CORBYs had a single stick which combined the cyclic/collective functions. With the flick of one switch, complete control shifted over to the co-pilot seat. Ashley automatically checked all the dials and gauges on the surface in front of her. That the subdued lights were all green and blue was in itself reassuring. A single indicator showing red would have caught her attention instantly.

"This is about as exciting as watching the Annual Sloth Races," she sighed.

The Blind Archer did not comment. Climbing into the rear compartment, Josef folded up his jacket for a pillow, stretched out on the hard metal floor and fell asleep within seconds.

"You are simply No Fun at all," Unicorn muttered under her breath. "At least with Megan, I can embarrass her and try to make her blush."

Hooking a pair of headphones into its socket, she fooled with the CORBY's satellite pick-ups until she found something that suited her. "Hey, Ian and Sylvia! Ian Tyson, great songwriter. Say, Josef, why do people say, 'wait til the cows come home' anyway? Where would cows go anyway that you have to wait until they come home, do they go visit other cows? You never see cows walking along the road going anywhere. I think farmers spent too much time out in the sun, to be honest."

Soft breathing from the back was her only answer.

"Tempting to flip this bird upside down a few times," she grumbled but then settled back to listen to a concert recorded at Calgary in 1978...

V.

The lapses in memory were getting longer. Megan worried that at some point she might not regain her normal perception. Worst of all, she might never realize the loss. Judging by the length her hair had increased, she calculated that she had been here at the stronghold for over a week. Sable and the others must be worried about her. But she had not seen any telephones anywhere and there was no chance at all of bribing one of these utter docile Desert Kin into carrying a message to outside word.

All she remembered was practicing unarmed combat and performing calisthenics under the unsympathetic eye of Sister Hyacinth. Meals at the communal table were vague blurs of stew and salads and vegetable plates, with lemon-flavored water for beverage. Everything else was blank.

What concerned her most was that the Tagra would be leaving her system at some point. Only Tel Shai could provide dried Tagra leaves which its knights drank as tea. It was Tagra which enhanced healing and resistance to injury or extremes to a degree that Human science could not explain. She had been on the Tagra regimen for two years and a certain residue would remain in her cells for a while yet. But, as the Tagra effect faded eventually, Megan feared she would be increasingly vulnerable to the brainwashing techniques of this sect.

It was definitely getting harder to think clearly. For the first time, she felt afraid.

Getting hold of herself, the Trom Girl sat up straight. She was sitting on a bench in the garden. Inches from her face were the fragrant lobes of one of those purple orchids. Those things. Megan stood up and made herself walk over to where a row of high narrow windows in the ceiling let in sunlight. Judging by the angle, it was early afternoon outside. These were one of the few ways she had to judging time. There were no clocks in the stronghold and none of the Sisters wore a watch. She had not been outside since she had come here but had operated on an arbitrary schedule of meals and workouts and indoctrination. Basic brainwashing.

As the door at the opposite wall swung open, Megan gathered all her will power. The iron determination she had always counted on seemed to be still there under the placid surface but could she be certain it wouldn't fail her?

Sister Lilac, the short redhead with the spray of freckles across an upturned nose, smiled at her even more smugly than usual. "Come with me, dear one," she sang out and swept one arm in a summoning gesture. "Our help is requested."

Eager to get away from the warm muggy garden where the stench was suddenly intolerable, Megan smiled back and said only, "Of course, Sister. I obey, gladly."

They marched briskly along the sandstone hallways for several minutes. With no identifying logos or numbers. Megan had painstakingly memorized the number of the paces and the series of turns between the garden and the dining hall, between the training room and the barracks she shared with five other Desert Kin. This route was unfamiliar. There was a definite upward slant to the floor and soon they were walking up what amounted to a ramp.

On a platform flanked by two wide cedar doors stood Sister Hyacinth and Sister Lily. The two most formidable of the Sisters. The oldest of the Desert Kin, the most imposing, Sister Lily fixed a critical eye on the so-called Sister Crocus and Megan met it evenly.

From a row of niches in one wall, the redhead selected a pair of soft white slippers and handed them to Megan. She then took two for herself and sat on the bench to tug them on. The Trom Girl followed her actions. Feeling her feet covered for the first time in so long was a welcome sensation. Sister Lilac also unhooked a wide-brimmed sunhat from a row on the wall and tugged it down over her auburn hair, then handed Megan an identical bonnet which the Trom Girl promptly jammed down on her own head.

Any break in the routine, any hint of some novelty, stirred Megan strangely. She tried to arrange her thoughts to deal with any possibilities that might be offered.

Pressing a large red button by the doors with a click, Sister Lily allowed her fixed smile to slip for a second. An electric motor hummed and both doors slid into tracks within the wall. Stunning yellow sunlight poured into the room in a wave of dry heat. It almost knocked Megan down. She blinked, wiped her teary ears and stared out at the desert of Northwest Utah as if staring at the surface of another world.

None of this was lost on Sister Lily. The imposing leader of this outpost regarded Megan closely as a surgeon inspecting the results of an operation. "Dear One," she announced soothingly, "Soon you will be sent on your tasks back to the ugly world of greedy men and weak women, where edges are sharp and angles are acute. This is but a glimpse to prepare you."

Heaving already shrugged into a heavy maroon robe that covered her to the ankles, Sister Lily opened the passenger door of a silver-grey Range Rover and slid into the seat. Sister Hyacinth hastened to jump up behind the steering wheel, taking a pair of mirrored sunglasses off the visor. "We must cope with the failed nation beyond this outpost," the cult leader said. "Until I return, dear one, you will obey your Older Sisters and continue as usual."

"Whatever is asked of me, I will perform" Megan answered with a bow. Maybe she should stay a while longer, she thought. What had she discovered of any tactical value? She had not even managed to sneak out at night and snoop around. Every day, she sank deeper into routine. It was this thought that made her pulse abruptly jump. Megan remembered that she had managed to get something that might be of value.

The Range Rover started up and rolled off across the hard dry sand. There was no road, only a few scattered ruts left from earlier excursions. The vehicle ascended a rise and was gone from sight. Standing beside Sister Lilac, who was still smiling blandly after the vanished Range Rover, Megan made calculations. From the angle of the sun at this time of year, she judged where she was in the Southwest United States. Yes. Stars in a night sky would have been more useful.

Turning to beam at Megan with that unbearably serence grin, Sister Lilac said, "Dear One, we must return to our chores."

Megan smiled back. "Of course," she said. Taking two quick steps, she leaped up and tackled the Desert Kin to bring them both to the ground. One hand pressed down on a subclavian nerve complex and the other closed the carotid artery. As Sister Lilac collapsed and went senseless, the Trom Girl counted twelve more seconds and then hopped up to her feet. She raced off full tilt in the direction she had decided was South-Southeast. In the back of her mind, a faint panic sounded. What was she doing? She had a training session that afternoon. The other Desert Kin would be hurt by her leaving, maybe even angry at her.

No! No! Megan Salenger raced over the hot sand with her head down and her full focus on what needed to be done. She would not return to the garden. The outpost was not her home. Her real friends, her teammates in the KDF, her fellow Tel Shai knights must be worried sick about her by now.

Parked on a ridge half a mile away, the Range Rover had turned around to face the outpost. Seated in the driver's seat, Sister Hyacinth said only, "As ever, your plans flow smooth as mountain streams, Dear Lady."

Peering through binoculars at the tiny figure fleeing across the sand, the Hag of the Desert permitted herself a deep satisfied chuckle. "As if I would not recognize the notorious ward of the cold-hearted Trom," she said.


VII.

An hour later, Megan had slowed to a brisk walk. These were hostile conditions and she was wearing only soft slippers, a thin linen gown and a floppy hat that was not up to shielding her from the merciless sun. If she had been able to prepare, Megan would have hidden food and water somewhere to take with her, a mirror or signalling or other survival items. But she had felt with deadly certainty that in a few days she would not have been able to escape.

Pausing at the top of a slight rise, the Trom Girl looked in all directions but saw no sign of pursuit. Surely the cult had other vehicles available? Since the outpost was more than a hundred miles from the nearest small town and sixty miles from a highway where she might find help, the Desert Kin might be waiting for her to weaken and collapse.

Then, to her vast relief, a nearly silent black shape swooped down from directly overhead to hover at twenty feet. The rotors barely stirred the dry sands. Through the front window, Megan saw the serious face of Josef Jubilec regard her as he waved a hand in reassurance. The Blind Archer lowered the landing gear and brought the CORBY down a few yards away.

On the side facing her, a hatch slid open to reveal Unicorn kneeling in the rear compartment. "Hey there, science nerd!" the little blonde called. "That's a good look for you." As soon as Megan had been helped inside and the hatch sealed, Ashley rapped on the divider with her knuckles and said, "Wheels up, Josef! Let's get out of sight."

The CORBY ascended so quickly and smoothly that it felt as if they were falling up. Megan got herself secured on the metal bench next to the hatch and gratefully accepted the canteen of cool water offered to her. "I am very glad to see you two," she said between sips.

"Hah! I bet you are," Unicorn snorted. She handed Megan a damp towel to wipe her face and bare limbs. "Listen, we identified your heat signature as soon as you stepped outside that fortress. But we had to wait until you were out of sight of the place. Your vital signs were fine so we knew you were in no danger."

From the cabin, Josef announced, "We're at forty thousand feet. I'm not finding any vehicles in the area searching for you, and the compound is maintaining radio silence. Better give us a report on how you escaped, Megan."

The Trom Girl recounted the events beginning with her summons to see Sister Lily leaving the outpost. "This was the first time I had seen the outdoors since I was brought there," she added.

"And they left you at the opening with only one guard. Even knowing you were a skilled combatant?" asked Josef.

"Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking? Megs, did they WANT you to get away? Is there some sort of devious mastermind-type scheme going on here?" Unicorn unclipped the Link from her belt. "Hold still, buddy, I'm doing a scan."

After a minute of clicks and buzzes from the device, Ashley shut it down. "No tracers or microchips implanted under your skin or anything like that. That robe and hat are so flimsy they can't be concealing anything. Let's examine your cute widdle slippers." Ashley ripped the soles off and turned the footwear inside out, squeezing hard. "Nah. Nothing."

Megan watched her teammate thoughtfully. "They cannot be tracking us by radar, can they? Not a CORBY?"

"Nah, not even John Grim's scientists could do that," Ashley said. "Say, your outfit is in that knapsack tied in the corner."

"I appreciate that." Megan got down on the metal compartment floor, opened the knapsack and promptly got into the flexible armor, pants and crewneck shirt. Her jacket was loaded with even more gadget and hidden weapons than the regular field suits. Fastened between her shoulder blades was the rounded disc of the gravity shield.

Sitting next to Ashley, Megan examined what looked like a small remote control with a notch across its top. This was actually her beam projector, her main weapon and tool. She inserted the neural shock cartridge and adjusted its range and intensity.

The Trom Girl glanced up to see a rare somber expression on Ashley's face. "What is it? Are you concerned that I have been brainwashed?"

"That's what that cult does," Unicorn answered. "You were there over a week, Megan. If one of us have been under their influence that long, wouldn't you be concerned?"

Megan cleared her throat and nimbly rose to seat herself on the bench again. "Being objective about this situation, I remind you I am a special case. I was raised and educated by the Trom."

"But you're not a Trom yourself," Ashley said as she got off the floor herself. "You're as Human as the rest of us. Josef, what do you think?"

From the cabin, the Blind Archer answered in his usual tones that gave away nothing of his feelings. "An indoctrinated person may not be aware of it. I suggest it is only prudent to put Megan through some examination when we meet the others."

"Do you want me to surrender the beam projector?" Megan asked with a trace of sharpness in her voice they had not heard before. "Or perhaps I should be manacled for safety?"

"Now come on, don't be that way," Unicorn teased. "You see, getting annoyed shows you DO have emotions. A Trom would have simply presented logical alternatives. You'd be so boring if you didn't have feelings under the surface."

"I suppose..." the Trom Girl muttered almost to herself. She had not put on the thick wool socks and now she took a multi-tool from her jacket. Selecting a short dull blade, Megan pulled her left foot up into her lap. "Ashley, hand me a sterile evidence bag if you will."

In the wall opposite them stretched a row of labelled drawers holding various supplies and equipment. Unicorn fetched a clear plastic bag from the criminology drawer and handed it over, not even trying to hide her puzzled expression.

Digging beneath each toenail and fingernail in turn, Megan said, "This is the only method I could devise to bring some samples back." Tiny bits of some organic substance came out and were carefully deposited in the bag. "I believe there will be enough material for our Links to analyze."

"Oh my God," laughed Ashley. "I take back my doubts, Megan. You're as sharp as ever."

VI.

All five active members converged at Hawk Island, ten miles off the coast of northern Maine. Left to the KDF by founding member Michael Hawk, this rocky outcropping served as a back-up command center when the Manhattan headquarters was unusuable for some reason. It had sparse living quarters, an office and medical ward but nothing elaborate. The hangar was large enough to store both CORBYs at the same time, along with all the tools and supplies needed for maintenance. The 38th Street building could only hold one of the copters at a time.

Standing in front of that hangar as the huge segemented steel door lowered, Sable faced her team. "Megan, it's good to see you. I know we all will have to work undercover at some point, but I have to say it's nerve-wracking."

"Can we go in the main building?" pleaded Unicorn. "Someone desperately needs a bathroom break and by that I mean me. My poor bladder aches."

"Sure." Sable marched her team across the tarmac.

"I did not enjoy the experience myself," the Trom Girl said in her restored deadpan manner. "On the flight here, I analyzed the enzymes in the purple lotus and confirmed my theory."

The main building was one story high, made of stone blocks painted white, with a wing on each end. The wing on the left held five rooms for personal quarters. These rooms were small, not much more than twin bed, bathroom and work station. They did not belong to anyone in particular but were used by KDF members in turn as needed. As they neared the entrance, Ashley broke away to sprint inside.

To the right as one entered was the captain office, which Jeremy Bane had vacated for Sable to take over. She circled around behind the desk with its laptop and reading lamp. Behind her was a row of binders holding schedules and notes. A long leather couch under the window facing the tarmac was quickly claimed by Sheng and Josef. Megan remained standing, holding up the evidence samples.

"So, let me be sure I have this straight," Sable said. "This so-called purple orchid produces pyschoactive particles in its scent that make people susceptible to suggestion? Is that your conclusion?"

"Yes, captain," said the Trom Girl. "I certainly felt it myself. Within another four to five days, I project my sense of self and mission would have been eroded to the point of loss."

"Huh," Sheng put in. "Well, we know the Three Sisters are very ancient. They're the genuine evil Witches of folklore and legend around the world. This Hag of the Desert probably has more potions and elixirs up her sleeve."

Hustling in from the bathroom, Ashley was carrying a wooden tray holding a steaming teapot, as well as the required cups. "Hey! Always time for Tagra! Especially for our science nerd who hasn't chugged her fill for a week now."

Everyone accepted gratefully as the sharp minty aroma permeated the office. After Megan took two sips, she put the cup down, held her hand over her mouth and ran from the room. The sound of explosive retching could be heard.

"Well, that's unexpected," Unicorn observed. "Sounds like when I come in late Saturday nights.. whoops, Sable, you weren't supposed to hear that."

"I know ALL about your unsavory habits," her captain smiled. "Let's give Megan a minute."

From across the hall, they heard a toilet flushing and then water running. When Megan returned to the office, she had regained her composure. Her face was flushed. When she picked up her cup, she smiled weakly. "I believe the Tagra drove the residue of the purple orchid toxin from my system," she announced and tentatively took a sip.

"Yikes, be careful with that," Unicorn said.

The Trom Girl finished her cup, repressed a belch and sat down in one of the plain wooden chairs. "I think I will be all right. I did not realize how much of that poison my body had absorbed."

"You look a little shaky to me," Unicorn added. "Take it easy for a moment."

Behind the desk, Lauren Sable Reilly got everyone's attention just by saying, "This gives us a way to fight the Hag." As her team swung around to face her, their captain said, "Tagra is an antidote to many poisons and harmful substances. If we could infuse that stronghold's water supply with Tagra, it might break the Hag's brainwashing control."

"But we are prohibited by the Order from sharing Tagra with outsiders," Josef protested. He raised a critical finger. "We have all agreed to this condition. As much as we would like to share the benefits with our families or loved ones, it is forbidden."

"Yeah, I've always resented that edict," said Sheng. "Imagine how much good doctors and hospitals could do with Tagra. If everyone could heal the way we do...."

"According to the Teachers, it is not meant to be," Sable admitted. "The plant only grows at Tel Shai and the supply is limited. I don't always agree with what the Teachers decree but there it is."

"I think you people are a little naive," Josef snorted. "Tagra is the perfect way to keep Tel Shai knights in line. It prevents us from going rogue. Who would give up perfect health and instant recovery from wounds if they had any choice? Tagra is one big reason the best warriors in the world apply to Tel Shai to be knights."

"Yeah, well..." Unicorn mumbled. "I guess." In her mind, she called Josef a cynical old fart but she kept it to herself.

"Be that as it may," Sable continued, "Our own supply of the Tagra leaves at any one time is limited. Certainly we can't gather enough to use as an antidote on the Desert Kin."

Megan had finished her cup and listened thoughtfully. "Even Trom science has not been able to isolate the ingredient that makes Tagra so beneficial," she said. "But if I experiment with the factors in the purple orchids, perhaps I can synthesize a counter-agent. It won't have the full properties of Tagra. I will consider it a success if I can merely produce a counter-agent."

"There's not much of a lab here," Sable admitted. "Certainly nothing like the sixth floor of the headquarters. Only some basic equipment. Do you think you can accomplish it?"

"Yes. Let me start some tests..." Leaving her cup behind, the Trom Girl headed out of the office toward the wing where some of her equipment was stored.

"Can we help?" asked Unicorn.

"No, thank you. You would be in the way." The door closed behind her.

With a huff, Ashley mimiced Megan's voice, "'You clumsy troglodytes would merely impede my genius....' You know I love that girl but her social graces still need a lot of work."

VII.

Six hours dragged by. Normally, a KDF member was assigned to inspect Hawk Island every eight days to be sure everything was ready for use, but since she had the team present, Sable directed a full policing of the facility. The boathouse by the rocky shore, with its two speedboats in case the CORBYs were unavailable, was inspected. The holding cells for captured enemy waiting to be turned over either to their own Races or to Department 21 Black were checked, as were the five residential rooms available on a first come, first served basis. Everything was in proper condition, although some cleaning as they went helped.

The food and medical supplies were up to the checklist requirements. Since they had been camping out in the CORBY for a few days, Unicorn and Sheng took the opportunity for steaming hot showers and fresh field suits. Still waiting for results from the Trom Girl's research, the team gathered in the small kitchen and prepared impromptu meals.

Devouring a plate of sausage and beans, Sheng Mo-Yuan stood in the doorway and watched his teammates. "You know," he said between mouthfuls, "Spending a day here now and then would be like a mini-vacation. You could do some thinking."

"Without someone looking over your shoulder, you mean?" asked Sable. The team captain was finishing her favorite meal, a bowl of instant oatmeal with raisins. "I understand. Soon, our training will have passed the minimum and after that we will have more free time."

"My dream is to open my own detective agency," Sheng said. "Probably down in Chinatown since people think I'm Chinese. Jeremy has agreed to help me qualify for my PI license."

"Wouldn't you be in competition with him?" Sable said, rinsing out her bowl in the stainless steel sink.

"He says not. There's more than enough whacky Midnight War going on in the Metropolitan area to keep a dozen investigators busy."

Ashley had her still damp hair pulled back in a silver ponytail. She stood up from the table, holding an oval serving tray. "Okay, listen. I made a roast beef on seeded rye with mayo and lettuce, a little dish of potato salad and a mug of the Tagra tea. I am going to force myself on our science nerd."

That nickname got a laugh from Sheng. "Not a bad idea. We've seen her go twenty-four hours without eating or sleeping when she's working on a project."

As the Unicorn examined the tray and added some napkins, Megan Salenger appeared in the doorway behind them. "I have positive results to announce," she said.

"Look at the bags under your eyes," Unicorn fretted. "Here. Sit here. Get started on this tray while you tell us what's up."

"Oh. For me? Thank you." The Trom Girl plopped into a chair and took a nibble of the sandwich, then a healthy bite that filled her mouth. "I realize you have my best interests in mind, Ashley," she managed to say while chewing.

After another minute, still working on the potato salad, Megan went on, "I do feel more my usual self. Staying at that outpost was a unpleasant experience. Right now, I have succeeded in synthesizing a counter-agent to the toxin of the purple orchid. The quantity is limited, but it would take another five to six hours to obtain more chemicals from our Manhattan headquarters."

"Even a small amount will give us an edge when we attack," Sable said. "I don't expect this to be a complete antidote to the longterm conditioning and reinforcement that these women have undergone."

"No." Megan finished her cup and visibly sighed with relief. This was for her a wild melodramatic gesture. "That process would require extensive deprogramming by experts. I do think this counteragent will produce uncertainty and confusion in the Desert Kin."

"You didn't see any guns in the outpost?" Josef said. "Or people armed with billyclubs or mace spray, anything like that?"

"No. The training room had a rack of traditional Asian weapons. I did not find an opportunity to search the facility, so there is no guarantee that Our Lady's people don't have firearms ready."

"Jeez, Megan, don't say 'Our Lady,'" blurted Unicorn. "Call her the Hag of the Desert. You wanna sound like you went over to them?"

The Trom Girl frowned. "Are you still concerned about my state of mind?"

"Well... this is a tricky situation," Ashley hesitated. "If it had been me in there for a week, I'd understand everyome keeping an eye on my attitude, right?"

"Let me settle this," Sable interrupted. "Everyone else, please be silent. Megan, look directly at me. All right. Did the indoctrination there have a lasting effect on you?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Is your loyalty to the Trom and to Tel Shai unbroken?"

"Yes."

"Are you our friend and teammate? Can we trust you unconditionally?"

"Yes."

Sable leaned back at the kitchen table. "I used my perception ability at full extent. Her pulse and respiration, the amount of adrenalin in her trace perspiration, her subvocal tremors and pupil responses... everything tells me she is telling the truth. I see no reason to doubt her."

The Trom Girl could not help shooting a triumphant glance over at Unicorn. In return, the little blonde shrugged and said, "All right. Give me that smirk if you want. You're getting more Human alla time, Megan."

Sable stood up and pointed at the Blind Archer. "Josef, I want you to help Megan transfer the counter-agent into a cannister to attach under CORBY One. Sheng, do a rundown on that copters and have them ready for wheels-up. Ashley, the same for CORBY Two. Also, unpack some resonance shells and have them available for both birds. I want to head for the Hag's stronghold right now."

VII.

Nearly noiseless, without any external lights, the CORBY hurtled over the wasteland of northern Utah under a moonless sky. The trip from Hawk Island had taken an hour and fifteen minutes. No helicopter developed by Humans could reach MACH plus speeds, but the CORBYs were capable of disengaging the rotors and relying on the impulse engines for thrust and control.

Sitting in the co-pilot seat, Megan was expanding more on her experiences. "My memories are clearing more quickly now," she said. "I remember attending a lecture on the purpose of the Wisdom of the Night movement. It is little more than a criminal conspiracy to gather influence for the Hag of the Desert in various governments and industries. She is an information broker, selling top secrets to bidders without any preference."

"What was all that about the 'Hand of Correction?'" said Sable. She was wearing the helmet with input from the CORBY showing as readouts on the inside of the visor.

"I was planned for use as an enforcer," Megan answered. "My Kumundu skills impressed them. Over decades if not centuries, the Hag has ordered many assassinations and beatings for extortion. We were told we might have to kill any designated target, even toddlers or little old ladies, because Our Lady knew we were working for a higher good."

"That confirms what INTERCEPT and the Mandate have suspected for a long time," Sable said. "Of the Three Sisters, this one seems to be doing the most harm."

Seated on the bench in the rear compartment between Sheng and Josef, Ashley interrupted, "Hey, I'd like to learn more about that unit called 'the Hand That Caresses.' What the hell, dude?"

The Trom Girl hesitated. Her voice had an uncomfortable tone to it that was unusual for her. "From what I gathered, they were women selected for their high degree of sexual attractiveness. Their function was to seduce and then blackmail men in high positions in corporations or governments."

"Did they consider using you for that task force?" teased the Unicorn.

"I have no way of knowing that," Megan replied. "Back to more serious matters. My conclusion is that this outpost is actually a minor one. From what I overheard, the Hag of the Desert seems to have her main headquarters deep in the Australian interior. Starting with the number of individuals that I actually saw, calculating some support staff and outside liaisons, I estimate two hundred to two hundred and fifteen followers work at this base."

"Coming up on the target," Sable said. "We're going to drop to regular cruising speed and engage the rotors."

A few seconds later, she continued, "Rotors engaged. Proceeding at three hundred miles per hour. Altitude, twenty thousand five hundred feet. All systems nominal."

"I see the valley where the facility lies dead ahead," interrupted Megan. "Slow further to one hundred, captain."

"Got it. "I'm taking readings." Sable studied the green numbers and words which crawled up her visor and said, "Our sensors show no heat sources outside the building. No sign of land vehicles for the past fifty miles. What do you suggest, Megan?"

"I would suggest we touch down twenty yards from the rear of the facility," the Trom Girl said. "Ashley and I will watch for any escaping enemy while you, Josef and Sheng conduct a frontal assault."

"I like it," Sable agreed. "You have your gravity shield, so you can pursue without a CORBY. What's your beam projector set on?"

"Neural shock, medium intensity," Megan said.

"And of course, I will be there too," Unicorn declared with emphasis on the 'I.' "It's possible I might be marginally useful in my own limited way."

"Yeah," said Sheng. "I suppose anything's possible."

A sharp elbow dug into his ribs. "Quiet, you."

Below them, isolated by miles of unbroken white sand, stood a rectangular building of stone nearly the same color as its surroundings. To regular passenger planes or satellite imagery, the headquarters of the Desert Kin would be difficult to spot. The lack of windows and the sealed doors added to this effect. Tire tracks leading to and from the front were the only visual clue that this was not some abandoned military base.

Passing overhead, Sable brought her CORBY down fifty yards behind the structure. It only took a few seconds for Megan and Ashley to leap out, then the copter rose smoothly up and passed over the roof of the outpost, away from the segmented steel door, swinging the nose of the stealthcopter to face the building. In the rear compartment, Josef Jubilec knelt and waited his moment. Strapped to his back was a Y-shaped leather quiver holding twenty arrows. On the metal beside him was traditional longbow he had fashioned himself from English Yew.

"Give the word," he said to his captain.

Lowering the landing gear, Sable adjusted the craft's surveillance array and pressed her headphones tighter. "I'm getting a sudden burst of radio activity in there," she said. "Watchers have definitely noticed us, they're trying to contact other bases. Jamming." As her headphones filled with the unbearable static cutting off all radio waves in the area, Sable snapped them off. "Josef, go."

In a few seconds, Josef Jubilec had opened the rear hatch, gotten up on one knee and loosed two of the yard-long arrows fitted with heads containing six ounces of the K-11 gel explosive. The detonations were sharp white flashes that tore open the steel shuttered doors at waist level. Two holes large enough to admit a person were opened, the bent edges of the doors bending inward.

The Blind Archer remained in position, bow still strung and his right hand raised to select another specialized arrow. Of all the fighting cults in the Midnight War, from the Fist of Furious Buddha to the Night Gorillas to the White Web, none were as feared as the Blind Archers. Its bowmen sensed the actual lifeforce of targets and they never missed.

Taxiing closer over the hard-packed sand, Sable lifted up again so that the CORBY hovered at head-high level. On the sleek underside of the fuselage, a panel slid open and a thick tube of hard rubber lowered on its swivel. Usually a CORBY carried tanks of tear gas or their anesthetic in gas form but now a spray of cloudy vapor spewed at high pressure directly at the outpost door. Most of it was driven through the openings made by Josef's explosive-tipped arrows.

As the limited supply of the counter-agent was expended, Sable tilted the rotors and accelerated them. The sudden blast of gale-force wind drove what was left of the antidote deep into the Hag's stronghold.

Even before Sable had reduced the rotor speed and locked the CORBY wheels, Josef was out on the ground and advancing toward the compound. Strangely, he had tightened a black silk band around his eyes, completely cutting off his sight. This was the Blind Archer secret; removing vision, they enhanced their gralic perception to the point where they were aware of lifeforce. Darkness, fog, snowstorms... nothing stopped them. A Blind Archer could hit an enemy standing behind an opaque curtain with complete accuracy.

Sable slid open her hatch and hopped out onto the sands. The communcations system in her helmet beeped. She heard Megan's voice saying, "Captain, my readings are only showing four Human signatures in there."

"I hear you," the team captain said. She saw Josef stop in his tracks and look back at her. He had heard the transmission through his earphone. "Yeah, hold back, Josef.
Megan and Unicorn, stay where you are. Sheng, you'll investigate."

The Blind Archer lowered his bow and eased up on the string. "It's a trap."

"That's what I think," Sable agreed. As Sheng Mo-Yuan sprinted toward the building, she called for him to stop before reaching the torn-open steel door. "Argent, I want you to go to full resilience. Set?"

"Got it, captain," came the Chujiran's voice. "I'm as close to invulnerable as I can get."

"And close the shutters in your helmet," she added. "Cut in your internal oxygen supply."

"All right," Sheng said. "Twelve minutes of air and counting." He marched directly toward the segemented door which now had two jagged holes in it four feet away from each other. There was a short stone curb in front of this door and, as he approached, Sheng said, "You know, there's a LOT of tire tracks here. Different sizes. I'd bet that the Desert Kin spent all day evacuating."

"They had over an hour to search for me," came Megan's voice through the helmets. "I was unarmed and on foot. Why abandon this whole facility rather than simply bring me back by force?

Standing ten feet from the doors, Sheng knelt a pried a rounded rock out of the ground. It was larger than his fist. "You know, when you suspect a boobytrap..." He drew his arm back and flung the rock hard toward the larger hole. His aim was good. The stone whizzed through the opening and a split-second later, the earth convulsed under their feet with a deep rumbling boom. The solid sandstone walls of the outpost cracked verically in a dozen places, the roof fell in and a billowing cloud of brown dust gushed up and out.

"Well, dang," Sheng said in a tiny voice. He had been knocked off his feet by the shock wave through the ground. As he rolled over and jumped back up onto his feet, the Chujiran warrior snorted. "And I used to be annoyed by all the warnings about checking for traps."

From the nearby CORBY, Sable warned, "Josef, head back here right now. The sensors are showing some exotic neurotoxins were released during the explosion. You too, Sheng. It looks like the Hag left some poison gas as well."

As the two men hurried back into the CORBY and sealed the hatches, Sable pulled back on the stick. The stealthcopter rose smoothly straight up. Tilting and speeding up the rotors, she used them as a hurricane-level fan to disperse the toxins in harmlessness.

"Megan, report!" she ordered.

"Unicorn and I are both safely out of range of any gas released," came the Trom Girl's voice. "We have started our internal oxygen to be safe. My analysis is that the fumes are plant-produced and related to alkaloids. Wait."

A second later, the distinctive voice of Ashley Whitaker squeaked, "Whoa! Sable, Unicorn here. An open Jeep roared away from a side entrance as the building was falling apart. Megan flew after them! She's gone in a blink. I think she could pass one of Josef's arrows if she wanted to."

VIII.


As soon as she had spotted the tail lights of the Jeep disappearing over a rise, Megan Salenger had thumbed the controls built into her gloves, activating the gravity shield disc on her back. Instantly, she lifted clear of the ground to soar up and after the fleeing vehicle. Faster than any bird of prey attacking, she swooped down from behind and yanked Sister Lily bodily out of the front seat. The steering wheel was cranked far to one side in the process so that the Jeep heeled around and rolled over onto its side.

Hauled up into the night air, legs kicking by reflex but not making any serious effort at breaking free, the terrified woman hung in Megan's grip. The unexpected experience might well have caused cardiac arrest in many people.

"You have many questions to answer," Megan demanded in an uncharacteristically menacing tone. The Trom Girl swung by the fifteen foot high ruins of the collapsed stronghold and dropped her prisoner none too gently on the sand where the other KDF members were waiting.

Both Sable and Unicorn had their dart guns drawn, Josef had notched an arrow with a killing head to his bowstring. Only Sheng was not holding a weapon as they formed a circle around the dazed captive.

Letting her own legs drop, Megan landed as lightly as if stepping off a curb. One finger touched the right ear pod of her helmet and the visor slid up into its internal track. Her face had lost its normal expression of mild curiosity and anger clearly showed.

Sister Lily rose to her knees and swept back her long hair with a defiant toss of her head. She fixed her glare on Megan as if expecting it to literally harm her and seemed disappointed.

"There is an Eldar sigil in the collar of my suit," the Trom Girl told her. "Your gralic stings are not potent enough to harm me." As she said this, Megan unclipped the beam projector from her belt and made a show of turning up its intensity.

Sable studied the furious woman on the ground before them. She sniffed and detected the tang of Alchemical elixirs in the trace perspiration, she heard the very slight irregularity in the heartbeat and the creak of arteries rejuvenated past their normal useful span. A half dozen other clues added up in an instant.

"You are much older than you seem," she told their prisoner. "I estimate at least three hundred. Even Alchemy cannot keep you young entirely. Your knees and elbows scrape when you move them. I think you are more than a follower."

"I am but a humble servant of Our Lady," snarled the prisoner. She got to her feet, brushed down her isarrayed robe and turned in a slow circle to stare at them all. "Her punishment for you will be the stuff of nightmares."

"No," Sable answered. "You ARE the Hag of the Desert. We have caught one of you at last. You will lead us to the others of the Three Sisters."

The woman swung her proud head back to stare at Megan Salenger again. "Ah, but there is one trick left to play. Sister Crocus, I speak the Word of Command. UMIZAER! UMIZAER! Slay your comrades now!"

Without hesitating, revealing that this possibility had been in the backs of their minds all along, the KDF member swiveled their weapons to point them at the Trom Girl. Josef drew his bowstring back to his ear; at that range, his arrow might pass entirely through her.

"Oh, come ON!" said Megan in a hurt tone. She clicked her beam projector back to its plate on her belt and braced her fists against her hips. "You still think that this witch could brainwash me? Really? I'm offended."

4/29/2018