dochermes

SPINNER OF WEBS III: Wild Lightning

3/28-3/30/2014

I.

At three thousand feet, the stealthcopter CORBY circled the uncharted island one final time. Completely black, with no external lights, the CORBY did not show up on radar and had no heat signature. Its rotors were silenced so efficiently that people standing on the ground would not hear it pass even directly overhead. The CORBYs operated beyond the limits of Human technology because they had been designed and crafted by the Trom, who shared their secrets only with the handful of people who belonged to the Kenneth Dred Foundation.

In the cabin, lit only by a row of six tiny monitor screens and the various subdued green and blue indicator lights and gauges on the control panels, Timothy Limbo was sitting in the co-pilot seat. He regarded the tiny whirlpool of barely visible energy that hovered over his hand and then dismissed it. "Thanks, fellas."

"You're positive about this, Timothy?" asked the woman at the control stick. Lauren Sable Reilly was wearing the full field suit, all black with its boots, heavy pants and waist-length jacket crammed with miniaturized weapons and tools. The helmet was hooked into the ship's sensors, but she had the visor slid open so her face showed deep worry. "That's a lot of palace to search."

"My caspers have been going through it for the past two hours," he answered. "They have glided through every bathroom, every storage closet, every bedroom. There is a harem of maybe a dozen women lounging around. There is a vast Alchemical laboratory. There is an outside pen of chickens and goats. There are fifty tough-looking guards mostly in a barracks building with some on patrol. No guns, just billy clubs and pikes. In a library room the size of a basketball court, Tzing-Dao Wang is bent over a tangle of scrolls while two women are writing down what he says on clipboards."

"Sounds fairly innocuous for a sinister mastermind," said Jocelyn Garimara from the compartment behind the cabin, divided off by a clear sheet of plastic which at the moment was slid open. She was an Australian Aborigine with thick straight black hair and a smooth brown skin without a single flaw. Her dark eyes seemed even more thoughtful than usual as she watched her teammates. Ever since the Red Spectre had manifested in her during adolescence, she had always had to be watchful.

"Honestly, it's almost a boringly sedate place," Timothy Limbo replied. "No dungeons filled with half-starved prisoners. No vats of raw opium, no torture chambers. I did find one man locked in an unfurnished room, but he looks like and is dressed as one of the guards. Maybe the women are being kept against their will, but I can't tell. They seemed preoccupied with practicing on mandolins and rehearsing dance numbers. They look more like a music revue backstage than oppressed sex slaves."

"I can't understand it!" Sable snapped irritably. This was so out of character for her that both Timothy and Jocelyn gave a start. "Olivia has told me about his network of crime. The Spinner of Webs provides addictive drugs made only by Alchemy, which no one else can supply. He provides undetectable poisons. He smuggles desperate women from North Korea to work California brothels. She has given me tons of details. This palace must be separate from his real enterprises."

Timothy hesitated but offered, "Sable, you only have this Olivia woman's word for all this? She IS Tzing-Dao Wang's daughter, maybe she has an ulterior motive-"

"No," said their team leader. "She wouldn't lie to me like that. Our own sources tell us that the Spinner of Webs owns gambling dens in the New York and Boston Chinatowns. He owns a dozen hotels and office buildings, which must be to launder money from his darker businesses. Besides, remember when you saved me from that torturer?"

"Yeah," admitted Timothy. "That guy had on rubber gloves and a leather apron and he was coming to visit you with a tray of sharp instruments. He was a skinner if I ever saw one."

"That was when I met Tzing-Dao Wang face to face for the first time," Sable grumbled. "The second time we meet will be the last."

Jocelyn and Timothy exchanged a concerned glance. This was not at all like the reasonable, quietly determined Sable they had known for years.

Through the light-enhancing windscreen of the CORBY, Sable gazed coldly down at the island far beneath them. Like the other five in this chain, it was little more than bare rock protruding up from the South China Sea. This one was marked by a peak that rose straight up six hundred feet like a spike, leaving only a narrow flat area around its base. The top of the peak had been flattened and now held a dozen ornate buildings connected by walkways with courtyards between them. China, South Korea and Japan all claimed ownership of these jagged rocks in the ocean, a territorial dispute that had been dragging on for seventy years and seemed fated to never be resolved.

"That mountain has sheer sides like glass," Jocelyn ventured to observe. "I can't see a way for anyone to climb it."

Sable's voice softened a bit. "Yes. For decades, Wang has had his men descending on ropes to chip away any projections. They've made the mountain almost perfectly smooth. Olivia tells me there is a concealed opening at sea level which leads to a vertical tunnel up inside the mountain to the top."

"Whoa, imagine the work that went into THAT project," Timothy said. "Digging down through all that granite...."

"I'm sending a signal to disrupt their security cameras," Sable told them. "The next few hours, their systems will keep jamming up and shutting down. While their techs work to find the glitch, Jocelyn and I will have some freedom to move. Timothy, take the stick."

"Got it," he said. "Co-pilot controls now in command. Captain, I wish you would let us land so I could go with you guys."

Sable had unhooked her helmet and scrambled through the opening behind the cabin into the rear compartment. As Jocelyn helped her buckle on a parachute pack identical to her own, the team captain said, "We stick to our plan, Tim. Bring us down."

"Stand by to jump," he said with obvious reluctance. The CORBY dropped straight down to just over one hundred and fifty feet about the palaces, and both Sable and Jocelyn leaped out through the side hatch which closed behind them. As soon as they had cleared the hatch, the CORBY hurtled upward faster than any true helicopter could and was gone from sight in a split-second. The two KDF members triggered their gas-powered mechanism and small black parachutes were fired upward. The shock of the chutes opening ran through the two women, then they barely had time to tuck and roll before they were slammed hard onto a paved surface. In another second, they had jumped to their feet and were hauling the chutes in by the lines.

Many of the stunts KDF members pulled were only possible because they were Tel Shai knights and had accelerated healing from years of the tagra diet. Microscopic bone fractures from impacts like this sealed up instantly, bruises and scrapes were gone so quickly that Sable and Jocelyn were hardly aware of them. They hastily bundled up their black chutes and stowed them beneath a stone fountain which featured a dolphin spouting water.

Swinging around in a circle, Sable used all her enhanced senses to search the area. "Safe so far," she said almost in a whisper. "I don't detect anyone within normal line of vision."

Jocelyn Garimara made sure the chutes and their lines were as concealed as possible, then stood up. "All right, captain. We're in the web itself of the Spinner of Webs."

( the rest of the story )

"SPINNER OF WEBS I: The Battle-Axe Murders of Forlorn Corners"

3/8-3/9/2014

I.


They had driven through an impressive thunderstorm on the way to Forlorn Corners. At one point, even the admittedly stubborn Sable had felt it prudent to pull over to the side of the highway and wait for visibility to improve. Both women were wearing down-filled ski jackets because a snowstorm had been predicted; Jin's was solid black, Sable's was Royal blue with red trim on the collar and shoulders. As it turned out, a rise of only a few degrees in temperature had brought a rainstorm instead.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the rented Pathfinder, Demrak Jin had been grumpy and irritable the entire ride from the airport in Stearns County. The Gelydra was not good-natured at the best of times but she had been so gruff reacting to any attempts at conversation that finally Sable demanded, "Jin! What IS your problem today?"

The Gelydra was not more than three inches over five feet, thin to the point of seeming a bit frail despite the immense strength hidden in her dense body. Jin had a flat wide face with thin lips, a snub nose and cloudy blue eyes under a shock of bristly white hair that stood up by itself. Sitting with her arms folded the past hour, she took a deep breath and seemed to be getting hold of her tongue before she answered. "Nothing. Captain, I'm a Gelydra from Ulgor. This is how we are. When I try to be friendly and gentle, it takes an effort. You should know this by now."

They were in the town of Forlorn Corners now, population 828, going past a garage called Jack's Reliable Motors and a unisex barber shop and hair salon with THAT'S PERFECT written in blue script on the window. Sable pulled over near the curb. The town did not have parking meters, and at six o'clock on a Monday evening, almost everything seemed to be closed already.

Peering out through the windshield at the town, Lauren Sable Reilly decided to also choose her words carefully. "Jin," she said at last, "I can deal with that. At least you're being honest. But I have to say that Timothy or Haley may not understand and may take your snark personally."

The Gelydra sniffed. "I will try to get along with them, captain."

At thirty-five, Sable was attractive in a distinctive way, with straight black hair brushed back from a high forehead. Half Irish and half Cuban, she had an intriguing face that people felt immediately comfortable with. "Fair enough," she said. "We're on Main Street now. I don't think I will need to pull the maps up on my Link. Up there is the St Olaf Inn and Boarding House. Three blocks past that, we should find the Town Hall and Pastor Falkenborg is supposed to be waiting for us."

Staring out her window, Demrak Jin tried gamely to make conversation. "This is where Jeremy handled the Triceratops Killings, yes?"

"Yep. That was six years ago. He worked with a local PI named Gary Strickler but I looked online and found the man retired a few months ago. Apparently he broke a hip falling down some stairs and decided he was getting too old for the active life." She started up the Pathfinder, checked for non-existent traffic and eased out onto the street. The town hall was a two-story building with its own parking in the back, and lights were burning only on the ground floor.

"The people are chained with fear," Derak Jin grumbled as she got out of her seat belt and hopped down to the wet asphalt. "No one is outside."

"Well, there was a big thunderstorm just a few minutes ago." Sable came around the front of the rented car to join the Ulgoran. "And that looks like our host waiting for us."

Standing in the rectangle of yellow light from the open door was a short heavy man in a black suit with a white dress shirt. He was at least in his seventies, judging by the white hair over a wizened face. Although he carried a battered walking stick, he did not use it at all. The way he came down one step at a time while keeping one hand on the railing was a habit of seniors, but he moved quickly as a much younger man. "Hello there," he called out. The light glinted on eyeglasses hanging down low on his nose.

Sable waved cheerfully as they approached. "We came as soon as we could, Pastor. That was quite a downpour."

The old man laughed. "At least it melted the snow. Maybe Spring will finally arrive. You're Miss Reilly, I take it?"

"Please call me Sable, father. This is my teammate, Demrak Jin."

"Hello," Jin managed in a polite tone, although she did not offer to shake hands.

Pastor Falkenborg immediately assumed that the little blonde's name was 'Jen,' not Jin and that was how he pronounced it from then on. "Please come in. I'm afraid the Forlorn Corners Historical Society is only one room in the back, but I am so gratified that someone is finally looking into last week's Battleaxe Murders!"

( the rest of the story )

"Marry a Witch, You Marry Her Family"


(12/29/-12/30/2014)

I.

At four-thirty, Jeremy Bane was ready to close up shop. He had been in his office all day, except for a twenty-minute lunch at Five Guys around the corner on 2nd Avenue. It was one of those slack periods which recur in the Midnight War several times a year, when the creatures of the night seem to settle down and gruesome murders are sparse. The one chance for a client had been a drab woman who thought she was being spied on by the government, and Bane had treated her politely enough but after a few minutes conversation realized she had not the slightest evidence. Nor was she a likely candidate. She had never posted anything controversial on a message board or associated with radicals of any ideology. He recommended she pretend to act as boring as possible for a few weeks to make any watchers lose interest and she thought that was a fine idea. She would come back and let him know how it worked out.

After she left, the Dire Wolf sighed almost inaudibly. There had been a temptation to go with her, search her apartment for small cameras and microphones, but his instincts told him it would be wasted time. He had been born with an enhanced metabolism that gave him superior reflexes but also left him perpetually restless and in need of stimulus. At fifty, he was still slim and athletic, with just a few grey strands in the black hair and faint lines at the corners of the mouth. His pale grey eyes were still his most striking feature, stabbing out at the world under heavy brows. The day had been spent catching up on his messages and getting in touch with friends he had not seen in a while, so it had not been completely wasted. But he wanted trouble. He had read his FBI file and one analyst said he was a rare profile that thrived in high-stress situations. True enough. The Dire Wolf decided to give it another half hour and take off at five.

As always, he was dressed all in black- slacks, turtleneck, sport jacket. His monotonous wardrobe was practical for sneaking around in the middle of the night but it had also become a sort of uniform widely recognized in the Midnight War.

At one minute to five, he went to the closet for his long overcoat and just as he touched it, the doorbell rang. Bane strode through the tiny waiting room with its coffee table and two chairs and checked out the monitor up in one corner of the room. White male, well-dressed with expensive shoes and tailored suit. Maybe five feet ten, two hundred pounds, dark brown hair and medium brown eyes. Nothing remarkable other than a nose a bit too large. As Bane watched, the man glanced nervously down the short hall toward the lobby three separate times. That clinched it. He opened the door to the hall and said, "Can I help you?"

As soon as he saw Bane, the man tried to shove into the waiting room and get out of sight. Bane stepped aside to let him in and closed the door. "Someone after you?" he asked calmly.

"Ohhh, yes! No doubt of it. You ARE Jeremy Bane, the Dire Wolf, aren't you? I'm in real danger. Just by coming here, I may have doomed myself but I can't take it any more!"

"All right, settle down. Come in here." Bane closed the door to the inner office behind them and heard the lock click. He ushered the visitor to one of the leatherbound chairs in front of the desk and then went around to take his seat behind that desk. "First, your name?"

"Derrick Mancuso. I work for Sunrise Software, I'm an engineer. Mostly I design features the public never notices."

"Good so far. Go on."

"Three years ago I met and married a young woman. Amelia Giles. It was almost overnight, we met by accident and just seemed to hit it off. I proposed within a month and she accepted. We have a house in New Rochelle and have been trying to have children."

Bane waited, then finally said, "But what brings you to me?"

"My wife is mixed up with very dangerous people, including her family. She's not at all what I thought she was. I don't know if you.... Mr Bane, do you believe in the supernatural?"

"Absolutely, I've been dealing with it most of my life."

Mancuso stared at Bane and saw conviction. He went on, "They are all Witches. Not the harmless modern Wicca hobbyists, but genuine no-fooling Witches. Like in the old country. My grandmother raised on stories about La Strega, with hexes and curses and the Evil Eye. The things I've been through in the past few months..." He started shaking visibly. "Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I just have epilepsy or schizphrenia but I don't think so."

"Tell me more. Tell me everything."

"Amelia's family wants her to have babies with me, with what they call a Mortal. That's why she lured me into marriage. She has been playing a role all this time. And now that no babies have been produced, the family figures it's time to get ride of me so she can try again with another Mortal. I..." He broke off and whispered, "Cordelia....!" in a horrified tone.

As Bane watched, Mancuso staggered to his feet, knocking the chair over behind him. "No. Cordelia, don't!" Black smoke billowed up around him from nowhere, swirling like a tornado. Mancuso screamed for just an instant and was gone from the room. The black smoke dissipated, leaving only a sulfurous residue on the floor.


( the rest of the story )

"Five Dead Riders"

2/26-2/27/2014

I.

Thunder crashed sharply in a darkened room, echoing back and forth from the walls. Dropping from head-level to stand on the round ebony table was a tall thin figure wrapped in a black cloak and hood that left only a chalk-white face exposed. The being glared down at the seven old men who sat in a circle around that table. Two were already dead from the shock of the blast that had brought him here, and two more stared with dazed fading eyes that could not comprehend what was in front of them.

"Why have you disturbed my sleep?" hissed the black-clad form. "You must know it is forbidden!" He turned to survey the surviving old men, his red-irised eyes hot and furious.

"Forgive us, forgive us," begged one of the elders. "The need is too great. Dread one, are you not Carnevale, That Which Pursueth?"

"I am!" the spectral being answered, "and knowing that, you must know the peril of stirring me from my ancient slumber."

"It was not done lightly," said the old man. Like the others, he wore a dark red robe with a cowl over his head, and on the breast of that robe was a cabalistic symbol of an oval with a V splitting it vertically. It was the symbol of Red Sect."And we are prepared to face the consequences, dread one."

Carnevale hesitated, drawing his cloak around him and glaring down at the summoners. They were so feeble, so near death already. None could be younger than eighty, and their withered hands trembled visibly. He glared about him. The darkened room was a ceremonial chamber. The only light came from a single candle that had remained lit.

"What's done cannot be undone," the being said sullenly. "Tell me what I need to know."

"The Darthim no longer rule the world," said the old man. "They were overthrown long ago, and Humans now dominate everywhere in immense numbers. The other Races dwell in separate realms created by Jordyn."

"Hold. This is much to take in. Glad I am to hear of the downfall of the Darthim. But the Eldarin? The Melgarin? They no longer dwell in the world?"

"No, save for a handful who venture here at rare intervals. The Seven Races stay in their own realms, sundered and reachable only by gralic gates." The old man seemed to be having trouble breathing. "My chest hurts, I may not have long... summoning you took all our power.."

Carnevale stepped off the ebony table, landing lightly on one foot as if almost weightless. He came around to peer down at the elder. Up close, the face of That Which Pursueth was a gaunt, skull-like visage with thin lips and a snub nose, and eyes with crimson irises. "Speak quickly, then. How long did I slumber in my crypt?"

"Thirty thousand years and more," said the leader of Red Sect. "Better it would have been to have let you remain there, but in our pride we have unleashed something too vile to remain at large. Only That Which Pursueth can rein them in." He was gasping. "The Five Dead Riders.." The man's head lolled to one side.

Carnevale had seen the lifeforce snuff out, and paid the corpse no more mind. He swung around to find only one of the elders still alive and coherent, and he strode toward the terrified old man. "Mortals have ever been fools! You thought to use the Riders for your own purposes, no doubt. As soon try to hitch tigers to a plow."

"Carnevale, wait. The world has changed so much since you last walked it. I want to warn you... Humans have weapons of great power, they ride in chariots that cross the sky faster than sound can be heard. They can hear and see each other across thousands of miles..."

"And yet they are still just Humans, filled with vanity and folly and pride," Carnevale snarled. He realized he was talking to a dead man. Carnevale stood upright and threw his cloak back to reveal a thin body wrapped all in black. Alone, he allowed himself a sigh. When he was cast into slumber ages ago, he had welcomed it and hoped to never awaken. But here he was. The strange being left the ceremonial chamber, strode down a corridor to a room where clothing hung on hooks by a door. Set in that door were panes of clear glass and he peered out for long moments.

It was true. The buildings were taller than he had ever seen, towering insolently up into the sky as if defying judgement. Everything was lit without visible flame, glass balls glowing by magic. Metal wagons rolled and stopped without horses to pull them. But no matter. These were impressive but he could see Humans still looked the same, still walked and laughed with each other, still hurried about what business seemed important to them. The clothing had changed, the tools and the palaces had changed, but people were still as he remembered them.

Just outside the door, a man stopped to hold a small box to his ear. Carnevale did not know what the thing was, nor did he care. He stared at the man, who seemed fit and in the prime of life. The clothes were odd to his eyes, but they were neat and new and therefore a good choice to imitate. He could not remain visible in his true form much longer in any case.

The air shimmered around Carnevale for an instant, and he became a semblance of the man he saw outside. Just over six feet tall and trim, wearing a dark brown suit and tie, with polished shoes and a gold watch. His new face was not handsome but presentable, with short brown hair and dark eyes and good teeth. Carnevale looked down at himself. This would do. He fumbled with the knob, got the door open and stepped out onto 78th Street just off Park Avenue.

( the rest of the story )

"Imaginary Friends Have Real Friends"

10/12/2014

I.

With the kickstand down, Timothy Limbo shut off the engine and dismounted. He took off his helmet, moved a few steps back and regarded his Harley with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. Why on Earth had he agreed to let Megan tune the old girl up? He should have known what would happen. When Megan Salenger was left unchaperoned with any machinery, she promptly took it apart and reconstructed it to her own wild ideas. She had revised and updated their stealthcopter CORBY so extensively that their captain swore not a screw or bolt of the original aircraft remained. True, these changes were always vast improvements but still....

His bike didn't handle the way it used to, it handled better. It ran smoother. The fuel efficiency had doubled. Maybe he should roll the changes and take it all as improvements he should appreciate.

He walked the Harley further off the road and concealed it from casual view behind the bushes. Standing by the dusty back road, Timothy looked around at the woods. White birch, elm, lots of pine trees. The past two days had been rainy, the leaves glistened and puddles of water filled any potholes. It was great to be back upstate. He used to love riding these deserted country roads, especially late at night and best of all under a bright moon. Still in his early twenties, Timothy was a few inches under six feet tall, built like a runner, with butter-yellow hair hanging down over a friendly-looking face. Although he had the many miniaturized tools and gadgets on him that KDF policy required, Timothy was wearing motorcycle boots with heels, faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The black leather jacket was new, he was still breaking it in and he felt unreasonably smug about how well it fit.

Well, time to get to work. He had his assignment. The new KDF member trotted quickly back along the road and swung left into the woods. The slope was steeper than he had expected. His foot slid out from under him and with a dismayed howl, he fell onto his side and rolled down the hill, doing a complete somersault at one point. It was only by grabbing a tree root that he stopped himself. Timothy sat up. His brand new jacket was smeared with mud and, as he got to his feet, he noticed a scrape along one sleeve that must have come from a projecting rock.

"Are you KIDDING me?" he grumbled. The young Tel Shai knight had been on a Tagra tea regimen for more than two years, so his healing factor was enhanced enough that bruises healed almost instantly. It was seeing damage to the sleeve that annoyed him. He had resisted buying a new jacket for the longest time. Timothy started off again, but he was trudging rather than galloping.

From his briefing the night before, he knew the Eldar cabin was less than a mile from the road. There was a dirt trail he could have used to ride there, but he wanted to approach undetected if he could. As he walked, Timothy held up an open hand and a blur three inches high materialized above his palm. Tornado-shaped, stretching and contracting, his Casper was a shimmer of force that was barely visible even in the afternoon sunlight.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "Go ahead and scout around for me, willya?" As the whirlwind flitted away, Timothy began walking faster. Everyone on the team was divided as to exactly what his Caspers were. Some thought they were mere manifestations of gralic force controlled by his subconscious. Some thought they were individual sentient beings of a spiritual nature, perhaps even genuine ghosts. He himself had long come to accept them as somewhere between pets and friends. His 'Friendly Ghosts,' as he called them.

Hiking briskly through the woods, Timothy mulled over the assignment. Info was slack this time. A KDF informer in the underworld had overheard the rumor that an independent mastermind knew about the Eldar outpost up here and reportedly had an unhealthy interest in meeting an Eldar. That had been enough for Sable. Her response was to yank Timothy from his day off and dispatch him up here. Very inconvenient for him, too. Timothy's romantic life had been dismal for a long stretch and a cheerful barrista at Starbucks named Jazmine had been asking if he would pose for a charcoal sketch. She had added that she worked best late at night by candlelight and maybe they would need a glass of champagne first to be comfortable with each other.

Sounded great. But no, he was a knight of Tel Shai and a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, so instead he had left Manhattan at dawn and rode north for five hours to find himself marching downhill on wet fallen leaves. His left foot slipped again but he had been ready for it and he held up his arms for balance. No good. He windmilled his arms furiously, going "I got this, I got this" out loud but crashed on his back anyway. His head hit a hard flat rock with a thud that made lights flash behind his eyes.

Very quietly, Timothy Limbo said, "God. Damn. It."

II.

He struggled back up, decided he wasn't hurt and began walking again. Then he noticed the smell. Was it going from him? It was. NOW what? He examined the soles of his boots, twisted his torso to check himself and finally with great reluctance, he got off his new leather jacket with his heart sinking. A white and brown smear of something organic and vile stretched down the jacket's back.

Mumbling profanity, the young Tel Shai knight kept moving, tearing off handfuls of leaves to wipe and discard as he went. He felt close to vomiting and his head ached. We may love nature but Nature sure doesn't love US, he thought. Just before he reached the Eldar cabin, he felt he had gotten most of the foulness off. A powerful urge to abort this mission and head to the nearest dry cleaner tempted him, but he had his duty.

He paused to check on what his Casper saw. This was a form of telepathy, so it wasn't a literal case of his seeing what was in front of the manifestation. Instead, it was more like remembering something he had seen a moment earlier. There was a small redwood cabin at the foot of a hill, with two Schwinn ten-speed bikes propped up against it. No one was in sight. At that very moment, two cars rolled slowly up the dirt road. In the lead was a silvery Lexus GS, a black Audi A6 right behind it. They might as well scream, "Hey, the crooks are here!" he said under his breath.

As far as he could tell, the cabin was just out of sight, below the jutting ledge of the hill he was on. After reluctantly tugging his jacket back on, Timothy summoned two more Caspers. The little tornadoes spun into view and circled him excitedly, just puppies ready to play. "Hi, you guys. Go see what's going on with your brother, okay?"

The two whirlwinds flashed away. Timothy reached behind him under his jacket and drew the dart gun from its holster across the small of his back. This was a clunky-looking handmade weapon with a needle-thin barrel that fired potent anesthetic darts. It was silent and non-fatal but unfortunately it didn't penetrate heavy clothing and a stiff breeze ruined the accuracy. Still, these were what KDF policy required rather than the reliable Glock 19 he had always carried. Oh well.

Moving more carefully now, trying to keep trees and brush in front of him, Timothy got closer to the scene. Six big beefy men in black business suits had emerged from the cars and were forming a circle around two smaller figures. These seemed at first to be children maybe ten or eleven years old and barely five feet tall, bundled in oversized maroon sweatshirts with the hoods up, tight jeans on skinny legs, black and white trainers. Several of the ominous brutes had pulled out flat .45s and were holding them with both hands, more to intimidate than for immediate use.

Emerging last from the black Audi was a much smaller and less imposing figure. About forty, of average height and build, he had thinning brown hair swept straight back off a high forehead and wire-rimmed glasses on a nose that resembled a badly peeled potato. He was well dressed, but in a lower management office-drone sort of way. Yet the thugs who stood a half foot taller and who had at least seventy pounds more on them stepped quickly out of his way. He was the boss, all right.

Timothy dug back in his memory, try to remember where he had seen that unimpressive mug before. Somewhere in recent KDF files, he was sure of it. Then a deep, hoarse voice behind him said, "Easy. Don't jump. I got ya covered, kid. Put that heat down, whatever it is, on the ground. That's right."

Thoroughly ashamed, Timothy obeyed and then rose slowly to his feet, making sure his open hands were visible. He turned only his head. Even for a hired gunman, this goon was remarkably unattractive. Scars left by acne to remember it by, a nose that had been broken and not restored entirely to its original orientation on the face, dull lifeless dark eyes. The man did not make a good impression.

"You know da drill, kid, hands behind your head."

As Timothy obeyed, he watched the thug crouch down and snatch up the dart gun. A reverse hook kick would easily connect right on the side of the face. But, even with all his Kumundu training, Timothy thought it would be a bad idea to try on this muddy ground. He had fallen twice already simply walking.

"This is a mean-looking shooter you got here," the gunman said, giving the dart gun a cursory glance. "Start walking down there. Nice and slow. There ain't been no blood spilled yet, maybe there won't have ta be."

Everyone in front of the cabin was standing motionless as they saw the gunman escorting his prisoner down to them. Timothy studied the situation. The ground in front of the cabin was hard-packed earth, dry enough to give better footing. The cars were parked one behind the other, the nearer one only ten feet. The gunmen were standing much too close together with their shoulders almost touching. This could be workable if he had to fight.

But the two innocents in the middle of the circle... Their safety had to considered first.

As Timothy came to halt next to the two Eldarin, he let out an exasperated sigh. Things had not gone well so far.

"Jeez, what is that Godawful SMELL?" demanded the leader.

To Timothy's dismay. the man turned his head toward his own left shoulder and said in a squeaky voice, "Smells like he slept on top of a septic tank if you ask me, Pete."

III.

Oh my God, Timothy thought with a jolt of uneasiness. Peter Galliano, 'Pete and Repeat,' a notorious planner of big-scale heists and swindles. He was known as a thorough planner and creative thinker who fired strong-arm boys for protection and to handle anything physically dangerous. Galliano had never been known to actually kill any civilians or police, but a few rivals had conveniently disappeared when they got in his way.

Of course, he did have the disconcerting practice of speaking to his left shoulder as if it were a separate person. Maybe he visualized another head growing there, maybe an entire person standing there. His gunmen had learned to simply agree with him and not offer any comments.

"Hello, Mr Galliano," Timothy began hopefully.

"Ah, it's good you recognize me. I can see that you're not a cop. Nor a private eye. You just don't have the maturity nor the dead hopeless eyes. So, tell me, who am I dealing with here?"

Keeping his hands raised, Timothy began planning how a fight would proceed. The two apes to his left were a half foot apart, he could knock one into the other, get the gun that the nearest was holding way too carelessly, then drop to the ground, shoot and roll...But the Eldarin were right in the middle of the grouping. No, he needed to move them aside somehow.

Aloud, he said, "Sure. My name is Timothy Limbo. I'm a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation."

"Oh, those nuisances," replied Pete and Repeat, "I've met a few of them. You're obviously not Jeremy Bane."

"Well, obviously," the mobster continued but switching to the high falsetto. "The Dire Wolf is actually scary."

"And I met the Chinese guy, Argent. What was his real name? Sheng something or other, I forget. But I haven't heard of you, kid."

"Limbo, Timothy Limbo. I've been fighting the Midnight War for a few years now. My picture was in the papers. There was an article about me in the METROPOLITAN REVIEW a month ago."

"No, sorry. Doesn't ring a bell. Hey, you know the KDF agent I'd like to meet? Unicorn, the little blonde who carries around an actual Unicorn horn. She's all kinds of cute. If we don't have to kill you, maybe you could set up a meeting between me and her?"

Timothy's voice crackled like an adolescent's in his distress. "You know about Unicorn but not me?! That is so unfair. Come on, I caught that Russian spy, Comrade Buchinsky. You remember that blue devil-bird that was terrorizing the city? It was a freakin' Pterodactyl! And I helped destroy it, too."

"Really? I don't seem to remember that," the crimelord mused. "Hmm. You know, there's also the Blind Archer. Jubilec, I think his name is. Everyone wants to stay away from him, those Blind Archers are murder on two legs."

"You know about him, too. But not me." Timothy sounded crushed. "Oh, all right. Break my heart, it doesn't matter. But listen, can I ask what you're up to with these Eldarin?"

At the word, the two slim little figures turned their heads toward them, pulling down their hoods. The faces revealed were almost androgynous, one slightly more masculine and one more feminine but not by much. The skin was a beautiful golden tone, the sleek long hair a bright yellow and the large clear eyes had amber irises which gleamed in the sunlight. Most startling, their ears rose to distinct points. "Behold, I am Palisor," said the boy in a soprano tone. "This is my twentieth cousin Lindoral. We are here to listen to radio reports of what is happening in your world. We did not know Humans were aware of our presence in the world."

"Wait, what?" interrupted Timothy. "Are you little kids? How old are you two?"

That elicited a mellow chuckle. The female Eldar said, "I am two thousand, nine hundred years old. My twentieth cousin there was born nearly five centuries later, so I may freely order him about."

"Mr Limbo, if that IS your name," Galliano said, "You surely must realize why I am here with my associates. In the cars we brought syringes and tubing and specimen bags. These two are more than Human. Donating a pint or two of their blood will not do them any harm."

"I hope you offer them a cookie and some orange juice, at least," Timothy managed to get out in a steady voice.

"The kid has got nerve, I give him credit for that," squeaked the strained secondary voice from Galliano's mouth as the criminal watched his own shoulder. "What do you think? Do we let him live?"

"I don't think so," the man continued in his natural voice. "Those KDF bastards are too persistent. We don't want them chasing us around for the next few years. You know what, let's take these surfer kids with us, too."

"Wait, weren't you going to just take some blood to analyze? I mean, you do think you can derive immortality from them, right?" demanded Timothy. His hands were still tucked behind his back, the gunman behind him had not moved an inch.

Peter Galliano rubbed the lower part of his face and did not answer immediately. "Or at least longevity and enhanced healing. That was the plan. But if it means getting the KDF involved... If that damn Dire Wolf starts after us, we're in real trouble. I'm afraid Mr Limbo needs to disappear and we might as well take the golden children with us. The more I think of it, it's more sensible to keep them as living blood banks. As long as they're alive, they'll produce blood. I bet a million dollars for a few drops wouldn't be asking much."

As the confrontation got tenser, Timothy spotted more of his Caspers appearing. He hadn't summoned them. Were they responding to his emotional distress? Or were the ones already in existence calling for others? There was no way to tell. Eight of the little swirls of energy were moving silently through the air at head level. The gunmen were beginning to catch glimpses of the nearly invisible beings wheeling around them and even those prosaic-minded brutes gave twitches of confusion at something they could not understand.

"What the hell?" asked the mastermind. "What's going on here?"

Timothy deliberately unclasped his hands and lowered them to chest level, moving one foot forward to get himself set up. "Mr Galliano, you won't like hearing this. But the truth is, you're not the only one with imaginary friends."

V.

Complete hysteria broke out in front of the cabin. Each of the Caspers flew right up against a gunman's eyes and stayed there. Frantic attempts to brush them off did nothing but distort their shapes for a second. Even if the gangsters had known what was going on, having their vision hopelessly and unexpectedly blurred would have frightened them. Several dropped their guns to rub their faces and they were all screaming wordlessly or yelling "My eyes! I'm blind!"

As soon as the Friendly Ghosts had acted, Timothy took advantage of the pandemonium. He wheeled around and blasted a combination left backfist and right hook that snapped the gunman's head around so violently that the concussion knocked him out. Timothy grabbed the man's gun and swung it up. That interaction had only taken an instant. While the thugs panicking, he ran over to scoop up their guns and fling them as far away into the bushes as he could.

This was going better than he expected. He mentally asked the Caspers to stay over the goon's eyes as he went around yelling, "Lie down! Your eyes will clear if you lie down!" To speed up the process, he began kicking the thug's feet out from under them and giving them hearty shoves between the shoulder blades. Soon, he had all five of them stretched out in the dirt.

"Stick with them, fellas," he said.

"What do you mean? We did what you said," whimpered a gunman who must have weighed three hundred pounds and had hands covered with scar tissue.

"I wasn't talking to you," Timothy started to explain, "That was for my... never mind. Mr Galliano, you're the last one on your feet. Get down on your knees at least."

Still pawing at his eyes, the mastermind screamed, "It's a trick! This is one of those Midnight War tricks I've heard rumors about. We're not actually going blind."

Timothy stepped closer and whispered, "Do you really want to find out?"

As Peter Galliano considered this and sank to one knee so he was kneeling like a knight begging audience, Timothy Limbo quietly lowered the confiscated gun. He still expected some awful reversal as things went wrong, but everything seemed under control.

"Tel Shai, you have our gratitude," said the male Eldar in his sing-song tones. "Well done. We will be leaving now."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, there is nothing of value in this rustic building. My twentieth cousin and I have listening to radio news from the BBC World Service and the NHK of Japan, memorizing every word. When we return to Elvedal, we will repeat what we have heard to our King Elzulang so he may be informed of what state your poor world is in."

"It's our calling," Lindoral said. She drew the hood up over that shining hair and Timothy felt a twinge of sadness. Eldarin were beautiful beyond Human beauty, in an almost abstract way as a sunset or a waterfall is beautiful, and he hadn't realized how much he enjoyed looking at them.

"If you say so. I suppose you have a travel crystal. Okay. I was going to call the State Police to get here but now that I think of it, how can I press charges? What kind of crazy accounts are these gorillas going to give about what happened here?How can I explain two immortals were going to be used as blood banks? Maybe I should leave all of them here and run back to my bike while they're confused."

"That would be best," said Palisor. "I think some healing might within our ability to grant. This man who speaks to a delusion has been damaged in the mind. Cousin?"

"My pleasure." The tiny blonde woman stepped lightly over toward Peter Galliano and tapped a slim index finger to the man's forehead, with a spark crackling at the contact. The crimelord gasped and fell over on to his side to lie motionless. The Eldar woman gave Timothy the most bittersweet smile he had ever seen. "When he awakens, his mind will be whole. I only wish we could bring peace to all troubled souls."

"So that's the end of Pete and Repeat," Timothy said. "Thanks, you two. I'll be running away myself so these bozos can't chase me." He held up a hand over which a Casper hovered. "I suppose you Eldarin can see my imaginary friends?"

"Clearly," laughed Palisor. "They are charming. Take comfort in them, young Human. Even imaginary friends have real friends."

4/5/2020

"Perverts From Dimension X'

9/3-9/11/2014

I.

Timothy Limbo got thrown out of the Starbucks across Fifth Avenue from the Public Library at two-thirty in the afternoon. He was yelled at by the manager to never return and, as he left the coffee shop, he could overhear everyone muttering how he must be drunk or on drugs, maybe schizophrenic. Outside was a pleasant early September afternoon with a brisk breeze. Gleeful teenagers were running around, still free of school for the next week at least. Timothy stood on the sidewalk with slumped shoulders and glanced back at the faces staring at him through the shop windows.

He was inoffensive-looking enough. At twenty-six, Timothy stood a few inches under six feet in height and was slightly built. He habitually wore biker boots, worn-out jeans and a battered leather jacket over a white T-shirt but then he did ride a Harley so that was all appropriate. The mop of butter-yellow hair that hung down past his collar and usually got in his eyes was untidy, but his face seemed friendly and he looked accessible. Timothy was the sort of guy that people asked directions from or struck up casual conversations with on the subway. Little children and old ladies liked him on sight.

All this added to his dismay at what had happened in that Starbucks. He wasn't used to being shouted at or cursed out, and he was having trouble digesting what had happened. Timothy crossed Fifth Avenue and lowered himself to the low wall in front of the Library, right next to one of the stone lions. To his relief, everyone was going about their business and no one seemed to be paying him any attention.

Calming down a little, he cupped his hands in front of him and summoned a casper. Barely visible even in direct summer sunlight, the little swirl of energy looked like a clear tornado only three inches high. It spun and hovered over Timothy's hands like an eager puppy waiting for attention. No one knew for sure what his 'friendly ghosts' were. Nowhere in the KDF files or library was there a record of anyone with the same gift. He nodded at the Starbucks across the street. The casper spun up past head level and shot over the heavy traffic to slide into the shop as someone opened the door to enter.

Establishing contact, Timothy could see and hear everything that the casper perceived in its mysterious way. It was hard to explain how this felt to him. Tim explained it best by saying it was more like remembering something he had just seen rather than experiencing directly. In that respect, it was much like telepathy from what he had heard about that ability. Sitting across the street, he saw inside the Starbucks as if he were physically inside the shop. A uniformed officer was talking to the excited manager, which made Tim's heart sink. As he watched, the cop touched the radio fastened to his left shoulder and bent his head to speak into it.

Upset again at realizing he was being reported to the police, Timothy jumped to his feet and turned right to cross 41st Street at the intersection. The casper came spinning up to circle him. He mentally thanked the little whirlwind, whether it was a separate being or a gralic manifestation of his own subconscious, and the friendly ghost popped out of existence like a soap bubble. At the next corner, he bought a foot-long hot dog and a can of Dr Pepper from a street vendor and ate the hot dog without even tasting it. Standing by a wire trash receptacle, he drained the soda in a single gulp and belched unexpectedly. Timothy started walking again, hands in his pants pockets and head down. He knew what he had witnessed in that Starbucks. He was sure of it, even if a dozen other people had seen nothing except him acting weird.

By the time he got to 38th Street and swung left toward Lexington, Timothy had regained his self-assurance. With all the weird inexplicable events he had already experienced in the Midnight War, why would this make him doubt himself? That molester in the Starbucks was some new nightmare creature that had to be challenged and fought like any other.

In front of the old ten-story stone building that had housed three generations of Tel Shai knights before him and his current teammates, Timothy heard the front door unlock before he even touched it. He stepped inside the vestibule and waited for the familiar clicks and buzzes that meant he was being scanned by Trom sensors more advanced than anything Human medical technology could approach. The scan did seem to go on longer than usual, though.

Finally, the inner door clicked and he opened it. Standing in the front hall waiting for him was his team captain. Lauren Sable Reilly was attractive in a highly individual way, with thoughtful dark eyes over a snub nose and full lips. She wore her straight black hair brushed back over a high forehead and seldom bothered with anything more than minimal make-up. Her posture, though, with arms folded across her chest and one foot tapping on the carpet, was not reassuring.

"Hi, Tim. I just got off the phone with Officer James Mulvaney. He gave me his report. What's your side of the story?" Sable's voice was calm and not accusatory, but there was a critical gleam in her eyes that wasn't usually there.

"Something new and scary, captain," Tim answered bluntly. "I was seeing through my caspers, watching the barrista prepare this incredibly complicated latte and I was counting the steps. That was when I saw the thing. Well, I'll just come out and say it. I saw a naked purple man fondling a woman who wasn't aware he even existed."

( the rest of the story )

"Kingdom of Mythical Beasts"

8/12-8/15/2014

I.

Beyond the Whitecap Mountains, this area of Okali was not like the parts they had seen before. It was humid and steamy, with lush jungle vegetation and a hazy sun overhead. Stepping away from her teammates, Haley Lawson fastened the ankle-length blue cloak around her throat and scanned the sky. A few birds flew past in the distance. She turned to her captain Jocelyn and said, "Guess I'll go up a few hundred feet and survey the terrain, huh?"

Letting the heavy backpacks down off their shoulders with relief, the other three KDF members gazed around at the heavy foliage around them. The clearing in which they had appeared was barely big enough to offer them freedom of movement without bumping into each other. Jocelyn Garimara gave Haley a slightly disapproving look. "Be careful, Windcatcher. Don't make me send my Red Spectre after you."

"Aw, I'll be fine." At nineteen, Haley was the youngest of the new team and the most casually confident. She was wearing her usual Windcatcher costume of white long-sleeved pullover and white sneakers, snug blue shorts which showed off admittedly long sexy legs, and the ankle length cloak of blue cotton. On a choker under her shirt was the ancient Air Gem talisman which gave her the powers that qualified her for membership.

Haley had long chestnut hair with bangs that just missed covering her bright green eyes. Giving her teammates a saucy salute, she drew on the attributes of the mystic Air Gem. Winds summoned from a tornado forming in Kansas roared suddenly around and beneath her, shooting her straight up in the air faster than two hundred miles per hour. Only long practice enabled her to keep control. The cloak was weighted on its lower hem and had stiff reinforcing along its outer edges so she could use it almost like a glider.

At two hundred feet, she cut back on the tornado winds and leveled off, almost hovering. There was the blue ribbon of a river a few miles to her south, winding in a crooked series of S shapes. One of its tributaries led back to a huge lake in a natural depression. Behind her was the uneven wall of the rugged mountains, high enough that they were topped with snow and ice even in this hot climate. Those were the Whitecaps which divided this half of Okali from the rest of the realm where they had visited before.

But mostly there was just mile after mile of trees and thick undergrowth and scattered clearings. It was all such a rich vivid green that she was fascinated by the vista. Haley dropped lower to search for any signs of settlements. They had been warned about the Skullhunters and the Mountain Men, but she saw nothing of any villages or even well-marked trails.

Something powerful disrupted the air currents, sending her tumbling for a few seconds before she managed to stabilize. A shadow fell over her. Windcatcher stared up and froze in panic at the sight of an impossibly huge bird swooping down right at her. The creature had a wingspan of sixty feet, but it seemed as big as a commercial airliner to her at that moment. The monster bird had dark blue feathers with a whitish-yellow belly and an orange beak. That beak yawned wide open as the brute came at her, its dark interior big enough to swallow her whole.

At the last possible instant, Haley snapped out of her stunned surprise. She drew on the tornado winds and hurtled upward just as the huge beak snapped shut with a clashing sound where she had been a split-second before. Windcatcher doubled up her body like a diver doing a jackknife and dove down in a plunge toward the ground hundreds of feet below. She heard the flap of immense wings behind her, their motion displacing so much air that it made her wobbble unsteadily. She dared not look behind her.

If she could get some distance, Haley thought, she could summon a blast of sub-zero wind from the Antarctic but she did not think she would have the time. Right then, her only thought was to get down lower and zoom between the trees where this monster couldn't follow but she could feel it was right behind her. Her heart was pounding.

Then, crackling up from the ground far below, a dark red blur of human-shaped energy tore entirely through the gigantic bird like a cannon shell. Blood and chunks of flesh spun away as the dying creature squawked and convulsed before tumbling out of control to hit the jungle canopy of trees with a crash. Haley had seen this from the corner of her eye and now she slowed her flight, using her weighted cloak to help steer.

The Red Spectre hovered in the air near her. This close, it was a five-foot silhouette of deep crimson force, with a white outline around its edges. The manifestation of gralic energy had a vague human shape without details. Its featureless head seemed to regard Haley for a second before the Spectre dove down to the ground like lightning striking. Windcatcher was not far behind it. She swooped down toward where her three teammates stood in a group, coming in too fast and for once hitting the lush grass with a thud, rolling over before getting up again and getting untangled from her cloak.

It was Timothy who got to her first, helping her up to her feet and brushing her off as he checked for damage. "Damn, you came close to getting eaten," he said as he saw she was unharmed. Like Jocelyn, Timothy Limbo was wearing the black field suit with heavy hiking boots, pants and waist-length jacket of tough protective material. His mop of yellow hair hung limp in the moist air.

Windcatcher pressed a hand to her chest and caught her breath. "That was.. a little TOO exciting," she said. "What the hell was that thing?"

"The Thunderbird," Jocelyn said as she watched the skies for more of the creatures. "A Darthan construct, like most of the unnatural animals here in Okali. This realm is the source of many legends."

II.

The four KDF members did not make camp, but they did arrange themselves in a circle while Haley described what she had seen from the air. Jocelyn Garimara, an Aboriginal woman from Western Australia, was the team leader. She was a few years older than the others, more serious and disciplined. While in her early teens, the Red Spectre had first manifested from her body and led to her being ostracised from her own people and even further separated from the white folks than before. It was only after finding Tel Shai and the KDF that she discovered something she could believe in. Despite her misgivings, she was beginning to feel at home with them.

Short and slim, seeming even more so in the tight black field suit, Jocelyn was sitting on her backpack. Her enormous dark eyes were thoughtful and she was silent after Haley's report. Finally, she said, "We have forty-eight hours before the gralic charge in our bodies wears down. Then we will be returned to the real world no matter we're doing."

"Or what condition we're in," muttered Demrak Jin.

Jocelyn gave the Gelydran a disapproving glance, but continued, "Finding Dr O'Donnell and getting him safely home is our only priority. When his son contacted us, he seemed to be under the impression that Okali is somewhere in South America, up the Amazon River. The Midnight War is not knowledge for everyone. The fact that O'Donnell managed to find a way here must have taken him a long time and a lot of money. I think he paid a Red Sect warlock to send him here."

"He is a fool to come to this wild land unprepared," muttered Jin. The Gelydran woman was about the same size as Jocelyn, a few inches over five feet in height and athletic with a gymnast's build. But Demrak Jin had a shock of bristly white hair over a sullen pale face with a pug nose and deepset blue eyes. She wore a tunic and leggings of glossy sharkhide with the rough denticles on the outside. Her boots were almost comically oversized, because recently her feet had been getting longer and webbing between the toes was more pronounced.

A refugee from Ulgor, Jin was a fierce warrior but developing courtesy was taking her a long time. Seeing the looks the others gave her, she went on, "He should have brought someone skilled in survival. A guide. Perhaps a porter to carry supplies, that is all I am saying."

Haley had taken a few sips from the canteen fastened to the side of her backpack. She had gotten over her scare from the Thunderbird with the easy resilience of youth. "So let me get this straight, Jocelyn. This is where the Darthim did their experiments with mutating animals and cross-breeding species that have absolutely nothing in common. We've already seen the unicorns and the manticores and the Speaking Apes but we can expect crazier stuff yet, right?"

"That's about it," said Jocelyn. "Albert O'Donnell is Professor Emeritus of the Folklore Department at Columbia. Cryptozoology is his passion. When he found out somehow about Okali having real creatures found only in myths, naturally he could not rest until he found a way here."

The Australian woman got to her feet, strapped on her backpack and took a deep breath. Sealed in the field suit, she was completely comfortable despite the tropical surroundings. The suits were designed to protect wearers under much more extreme conditions than these. Without the technology functional, though, the visored helmets were not feasible. They just made the wearer uncomfortable and cut down air intake without the powered air flow pumps. The light enhancers and telescopic aspect, as well as the communications linkage, was also lost when the helmets were de-powered. Wearing his own field suit, Timothy turned to Windcatcher.

"Haley, I wish you'd wear one of these," he said. "You could be as dry and cool as I feel right now."

"Aw, I've got my Windcatcher image to think about," she said as she rolled up her cloak and fastened it across the top of the backpack. "I can surround myself with a little aura of nice crisp Rocky Mountain breezes. How about you, Jin?"

Wearing her sharkhide outfit with the bone-bladed knife strapped across her back, the Gelydra hesitated so she could tone down her instinctive caustic response. She slung her own travel pack over one shoulder. "We are raised to ignore discomfort. It is said a Gelydra will bite off his own foot to escape a trap."

"Whatever you like," Haley said with a shrug. She and Jin followed as Jocelyn led the way toward the river in the distance. An hour dragged by. They spotted nothing more exotic than a startled flock of green and red parrots taking flight at their approach or a few spider monkeys peering cautiously at them from the branches overhead. They had passed at a stony outcropping where foothills were beginning when they saw the Centaurs gallop past at a distance.

All four KDF members froze in awe, their mouths dropping open. The creatures were massive. The horse part was the size of a Clydesdale, and from where the withers would be rose the torso of big, muscular Humans. The colors varied widely, mostly shades of brown and white with a few jet black specimens. The Centaurs' faces were broad and brutal, with a flat nose and sunken eyes under a prominent brow ledge. Hair on the head was long, wild and tangled, and neither sex wore any clothing or decorations. Over a hundred of the creatures thundered down an incline and past the stupefied intruders as if entirely unaware of them.

"I will NEVER say I've seen everything," Timothy told the others. "Now we know how so many legends started in antiquity. Darthan creatures escaped to the real world somehow or were brought there by Darthim, and tales spread of half man-half horse beings. It's amazing."

"We are being watched," muttered Demrak Jin, her hand darting up to the hilt of her long knife. "All around us."

Automatically, the KDF members formed an outward-facing circle, with both Jocelyn and Timothy dropping their hands to where the anesthetic dart guns were holstered at their sides. They had brought the weapons although the guns would be useless here. In a few seconds, shaggy dark heads began peering around boulders higher up on the slope.

"Steady," Jocelyn said. "We're all wearing armor. Let them make the first move. We're protected."

"Well, except for Haley and her damn bare legs," Timothy said.

"You're not funny," snapped the Windcatcher as some of the watchers began to show themselves. They were not entirely Human, thick arms being longer than the bowed legs and all the exposed skin having thick dark brown fur. Yet they were clothed. Around their midriffs, animal hides were tied to make a kilt, and several had a strap of treated fur wrapped across their shoulders as decoration even in the heat. They seemed to be all males, at least twenty of them as they emerged, and nearly all were holding a bundle of several thin throwing spears which ended with vicious barbed heads.

"Hunting party," Timothy Limbo said quietly. "Bet they were stalking those Centaurs until something spooked the herd."

Raising both open hands up by her head, Jocelyn called out in Prilirdyn, the primal awareness placed in all conscious minds by Jordyn Himself at birth. "We have come through the Whitecap Mountains in peace."

The brute who appeared to be their leader considered this. He had a headband of animal fangs tied around his hairline on a leather thong. "A hard journey! What do you seek in Mountain Men territory?"

"A stranger like ourselves who has wandered off. He has white hair and white beard. He is a harmless err shaman and wise man among our kind," Jocelyn answered.

"The old man you seek is a prisoner of the Lake People. You will not meet him again in the land of the living! He goes to appease the Water Beast."

This did not go over well with the Tel Shai knights, and Jocelyn said, "Our duty is to try to rescue him in any case. Will you tell us how to find the Lake People?"

"No," said the leader simply.

Never one with much patience, Demrak Jin slid the bone knife from its scabbard, completely undeterred by the odds. Her cloudy blue eyes narrowed until they hardly were more than slits. "Will you not give us at least a helpful word?!"

"You are now OUR prisoners," growled the shaggy leader. He stood full upright, slapping a broad hand against his massive chest. "The four-legged ones have escaped but our stew pots will not remain empty tonight."

"You can't be serious," Haley blurted, then glanced over at her team leader. "Can he?"

"No one is making a meal of us," answered the Australian woman quietly.

By now, forty of the hairy Mountain Men had formed a rough circle beyond arm's reach of the intruders. The spears were raised and ready, and the flat, savage faces turned to their leader for the word to attack. From above them, unexpectedly an eerie high-pitched shriek like the cry of a hawk rang out. The Mountain Men froze in place, glaring about wildly as a golden-skinned man dropped down from a ledge high overhead to land among them.

III.

The newcomer was almost beautiful without there being anything effeminate about him. Of just average height, muscular in an unobtrusive way like a swimmer or runner, he had dark golden skin and bright yellow hair that hung wild halfway down his back. Except for an animal hide loincloth and short boots of fur, he was naked and unarmed, completely unafraid of the forty armed brutes that glared furiously at him.

Only Jocelyn noticed that the golden man's ears rose to distinct points.

Unbelievably, the hunting party seemed apprehensive of this single weaponless man. They drew back, forming a cluster and apparently forgot all about the four intruders they had been menacing a moment earlier.

"Begone!" yelled the golden man. He swept an imperious arm toward the mountains upslope from them. "I wish to speak to these outlanders. Duran speaks! Let it be so."

"Even the great Duran will not fight so many of us," said the hunters' leader. He straightened up again after falling into the natural crouch of his kind, where their knuckles grazed the ground.

"You are a fool, Ja-Muk! There can be only one Lord of Okali," Duran announced. He took a single menacing step forward and the shaggy hunter drew back one arm to fling the spear straight at him. As casually as if playing a game, the golden man swerved his body a few inches and caught the spear by its shaft as it went by. Then, using just his hands, Duran snapped the wooden shaft in half and then in halves again before tossing the fragments aside.

"I know whose side I'm taking," Demrak Jin mumbled to herself, testing the edge of her long knife with her thumb.

Gesturing to his men, Ja-Muk yelled, "Why do you wait? Kill him now. Free our land from this tyrant!"

Duran raised his head to the sky and gave that high shrill shriek that had rung out before... and this time it was answered from high overhead. Down plummeted a huge form that scattered the Mountain Men in all directions. It was a full-grown tawny lion but with the head and forelegs of a gigantic eagle, with eagle wings growing from its back. In a few seconds, the Griffin had ripped four of the hunters apart and was pinning a fifth to the rocky ground with its talons. Those Mountain Men who were still unharmed scattered in all directions faster than they had ever run before.

Watching in horror, the KDF members had unconsciously drawn their own dart guns, which suddenly seemed hopelessly ineffective against such a formidable beast. Jocelyn Garimara readied herself to unleash the Red Spectre, feeling its energy swirl inside her body.

As the Griffin lowered its raptor head and ripped great chunks with its beak from the dying Mountain Man, Duran stepped closer and sank his fingers in the tawny hide of the beast's shoulders. "Enough, Little Friend. Enough, I say!" To startle the watching KDF members even more, the golden man slapped the monster sharply on top of the eagle head. The Griffin settled down, gulped a huge gobbet of flesh from the corpse at its feet, and sat back on its haunches.

As Jocelyn cleared her throat, the Griffin swung its head around around and those merciless amber eyes fixed on her for one alarming instant. Then Duran interposed himself. "Who are you?" he demanded, not gruffly but as a simple question. "What are you doing in my land?"

"We are knights of Tel Shai, here to rescue someone who is lost in your kingdom," Jocelyn answered. "Surely you are Duran, Son of Elzulang, Prince of Elvedal?"

"I am Duran," he said as his face tightened in puzzlement. "But those other words. Tel Shai? Elvedal? I do not know them."

"Really? Just a few years ago, you fought alongside our leader, the Dire Wolf. You overthrew the warlock Amtothun. Don't you remember him? Jeremy Bane?"

"Was.. was that yesterday? I don't know. Thoughts do not stay with me long. Have we met before?" asked the golden man in all seriousness.

"No, we have not," Jocelyn said. "This is going to present difficulties."

"How long have you had this memory problem?" asked Haley suddenly.

"What memory problem?"

"Well, I walked right into that one," Haley groaned. "Forget it. No, wait, that's the wrong thing to say."

Jocelyn gently pushed Haley back with a forearm across the chest. "Drop it, dear. Duran! We are going to where the Lake People live so we can save our friend. Will you come with us?'

"Yes. Lake People are my enemies. They have broken the peace I enforce between the tribes. You may help me fight them." As he talked, the Eldar prince ruffled the feathered neck of the Griffin's eagle part, which the great beast obviously enjoyed. The lion part was considerably bigger than that of a normal African lion, standing almost six feet at the shoulder. Whatever bond linked the golden man and the strange hybrid beast was so strong that they were content to stand pressed against each other.

Timothy Limbo held up his hand and a tiny wisp of whirling force swirled over it before popping out of existence. "I've had my caspers searching the area. Those hairy goons aren't coming back any time soon. My boys say they're still running for their lives up the mountain."

"Thanks," Jocelyn said. "We'll be using your caspers to scout ahead, I think. Well. Haley, Demrak, are you ready to start hiking again?"

"I regret not getting in the fight," the Gelydra grumbled as she slid her knife back into its ivory scabbard across her shoulders. "That beast left no opening for me to enter the melee."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance," Jocelyn told her. Turning to the Eldar, she said, "Okay, Prince Duran, lead the way."

"Alone, I would ride Little Friend," the golden man answered, gazing down across the valley where the river glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. "Walking will take one day, one night, with no sleep. Come! You are my subjects now."

IV.

The rest of the day was a rapid march just short of a run, led by the tireless Eldar and his Griffin. The four KDF members were in excellent condition but even they had limits. As night fell, the constant tripping over roots and vines and fallen branches began to wear on their nerves and they were getting hungry. Jocelyn finally seized Duran by one arm and got his attention.

"We need a break," she said firmly. At first, he seemed to disregard this appeal but she would not be ignored. Finally, he showed them a round clearing where the undergrowth thinned to leave a space big enough for everyone to stretch out. Everyone ditched their heavy backpacks immediately and sat down on them.

"I have to get these boots off, just for a minute," Timothy declared. He yanked off the white cotton socks as well and wriggled his toes delightedly, then ran fingers through his damp blond hair to ruffle it up a bit.

Duran seemed confused by this . The idea that people might not be able to run day and night without a pause seemed not to have occured to him. "You are hungry?"

"Oh, God yes," Jocelyn answered, rummaging through her backpack. "We have high-protein bars and chewable vitamins, and I'm sure Haley smuggled a couple of Almond Joys but aside from that..."

"Little Friend will help," Duran said. He went over and whispered to the giant beast, patting it on the neck affectionately and repeating himself several times. With a cawing sound, the Griffin thrashed its wide wings and took off at a steep angle, gone from sight in a few seconds.

In the jungle, the night was punctuated by extremely unfamiliar growls and hoots and rustling noises in the bushes. Duran seemed to ignore all these but it was getting Haley worked up. "How about a fire, cap?" she asked.

"I don't see the harm of a small one," Jocelyn said. "But technology won't work here, remember, not even a simple cigarette lighter."

"Hah! You're dealing with Windcatcher now." Haley scrambled around, picking up loose branches and twigs and making a pile of them on top of a flat rock. Timothy helped by shaving off thin pieces of bark with his survival knife to make tinder.

"Everything is kinda damp, though," he admitted. "The humidity here is high."

"Watch, oh ye of little faith," Haley told him. Kneeling over the pile, she drew on hot arid air from Death Valley. Over the course of a few minutes, they could see the twigs and branches lighten in color. She tapped them with a finger. "See, as dry as anyone could want." Then she warned everyone to step back a bit, summoned a gust of superheated wind from near the crater of an active volcano in Hawaii and watched as the pile burst instantly into flame.

"You may applaud if you feel the urge," she smirked, putting some bigger branches on the fire.

"Girl has good magic," Duran observed grudgingly. "Easier than the bit of flint and the knife blade I carry."

With a loud rush of beating wings, Little Friend swooped down nearby and dropped the carcass of a wild pig from its beak. Everyone except Duran gave a start, but he clapped his hands and cried, "Well done! We eat our fill tonight."

Striding over the ripped up hog, the Eldar seized the two hind legs and easily ripped them off with his hands. Seeing this, Jocelyn wondered just how strong Duran really was. The Griffin accepted the legs eagerly and went off a bit to rip at the meat with its beak and swallow big chunks without chewing in the manner of birds.

"Dang, looks like we got this fire going just in time," Haley chuckled as she added a bigger piece of wood. The blaze was getting large and cheery by this time. "I was afraid your pet would bring back one of the Centaurs. I'm hungry but I draw the line at eating one of them."

"Little Friend knows we do not eat those who speak. Sometimes he forgets," Duran said. He casually picked up the heavy carcass and brought over to the fire. "Here. I will tear off chunks for everyone."

"Whoa, wait a second," Jocelyn said as she pulled the seven inch survival knife from its sheath on her right thigh. "Let me do some proper butchering. I learned on a farm as a little girl." Getting to work, she soon was handing out neat slices which her teammates impaled on branches to hold over the flames.

"I do have a folding mess kit in my pack," Timothy said. "Small frying pan, forks, you know? But I guess no one has the patience."

"Save it for the next meal," Jocelyn said. They spent the next hour searing pork over open flames and nibbling as the bits became done. Licking fingers and grinning as they finally ate, the KDF members almost forgot what a dangerous situation they were in.

It was Demrak Jin, wary and watchful as always, who kept circling the clearing and listening intently for what moved in the darkness. The woman from Ulgor had been raised in a warrior culture and still found it hard to relax when not having her back against a solid wall. Chewing on a bit of seared flesh, Jin stood with her head tilted and her senses alert. "Nothing near but some small animals," she said at last.

"Few beasts will come near when they scent a Griffin," Duran told her. He had pulled off the pig's head with a single wrench and offered it to Little Friend. The huge hybrid creature started in on the head with enthusiasm.

By now, everyone was settling down and taking more time to grill the meat, sipping water from their canteen between bites. "Prince Duran, please join us," called out Haley. "Sit with us and tell us your story."

Seeing that his partner was happily gnawing on the pig head, the Eldar went over and dropped down cross-legged by the fire. He stared thoughtfully into the flickering flames but did not speak.

"Boy, those pointed ears are a dead giveaway," Haley continued. "So, what's the deal? Why are you running around Okali like this instead of being on Elvedal with all your kin?"

"I... I have always been here," Duran said at last. "Yesterday fades. Why would I be anywhere else? Okali needs a Lord to keep the warring peoples at bay."

"Something must have happened to you," Jocelyn told him gently. "You are an Eldar, and members of your Race seldom leave their realm. I remember reading that you have been here in Okali for a long time.. at least since the 1930s, when you met Mark Drum and Dr Vitarius. Don't you remember anything about them?"

"No." Duran did not seem troubled by his lack of a past. "Today is enough."

"How would you feel about coming back to the world with us sometime?" the Australian woman asked. "Maybe have some tests done? Dr Wright could tell us if you suffered some trauma."

Duran jumped up, obviously uneasy at this. "And leave Little Friend? Never. He is my blood brother. It is Duran who enforces the peace between Skullhunters and Speaking Apes, between Mountain Men and Lake Dwellers. If I left, there would be endless war. Bah. We have talked enough." He picked up a final piece of pig flesh and brushed dirt off it. "You are only Human. You need sleep. With the sunrise, we will go on to where the Lake People hold your friend."

Watching the Eldar angrily walk over to join his Griffin, Jocelyn sighed. "It was worth a try. I guess we'll never know what happened to him."

"Aw, let him think it over," suggested Windcatcher, sucking the last bits of grease off her fingers and wiping her hands with some leaves. "Maybe he'll have second thoughts. Anyway, we should rack up some Zs if we're doing another marathon run behind Golden Boy tomorrow."

"You're right. Yes, I suppose with that Griffin standing by, we don't need to post anyone on watch." Jocelyn stretched out, adjusted her backpack under her head and let out a satisfied yawn. "I'm stuffed. It's funny, I was thinking about going vegetarian, too...."

V.

Beginning at sunrise, the next day was also spent at a brisk trot behind Duran and the Griffin, who both were obviously holding back to let the outworlders keep up. Around noon, they came across a fast-running stream tubling down from the hills. As they approached, a startled creature jumped straight up and ran off from where it had been sipping at the stream. It looked like a large brown rabbit with short deer antlers on its head.

"Oh my God," Timothy yelped. "If only cameras worked here. That was a jackalope! I'll be damned."

"That makes my day," added Haley with a giggle. "My uncle sent me jackalope postcards from Arizona. He will never believe me when I tell me I saw a live one.Hey, he was drinking from the stream so the water is safe, right?" She glanced over to where Duran was already drinking from cupped hands and Little Friend was dipping its beak in the stream and then tossing its head back to swallow.

Demrak Jin got down on her knees and sniffed the stream. "I say it is fit to drink."

They all filled their canteens, drank a prudent amount of delicious cold water and then refilled the canteens and attached them to their backpacks. Late the previous night, Windcatcher had dried out strips of pig flesh with air from the arid winds in Chile, and they nibbled some more on these despite Duran's impatience to get moving.

"We are near the edge of the Valley of the Lake," the Eldar told them, pointing ahead to where the terrain was beginning to slope downward. "Soon the Lake itself will be within sight."

Gazing speculatively at Duran, Jocelyn wondered why the man had no visible scars despite an obviously violent lifestyle for at least the past eighty years. She knew as a matter of lore that the Eldarin had lifespans that were essentially open-ended. They could be killed but they seldom showed signs of age after hitting early maturity. Duran's father Elzulang had been King of Elvedal since the Darthan Age and that was thousands of years ago.

She figured the Eldarin had a natural healing factor similar to that which the tagra plant gave Tel Shai knights but much more effective. Diseases and infection and deterioration of age were simply repaired almost instantly. Duran seemed to be in his early twenties, but there was no telling how old he really was.

No wonder some of the other Races, such as the Nekrosim and Gelydrim, harbored deep resentment toward the Eldar folk. She imagined that many folktales of meeting gods and elves dated back to when Humans walked the earth alongside the Eldarin. Considering what recorded history told, she thought it was for the best that Jordyn had placed the various primal Races into their own realms.

"Listen up, team," she said, clapping her hands once. "As of now, we are heightened alert. Timothy, send one or two of your caspers ahead to scout out the territory as we move. Our technology will not work here, not the dart guns or the sensors in our suits, but we retain our own special abilties. And we have the invaluable allies of Prince Duran and Little Friend."

Hearing an unfamiliar voice speak his name, the Griffin made a low clucking sound. Duran stroked the feathered neck, thicker than a strong man's leg. "Follow me. Walk where I walk. Watch by your feet for the brown stingers," he cautioned, then started loping forward again with the winged beast beside him.

As they moved steadily downhill, the ground became noticeably marshier and the bushes started giving way to moss and vines. Mosquitos and midges became persistent. Some black and white birds that resembled ducks flew by, provoking a low growl from the Griffin as he watched them pass by. The day wore on, hot and oppressive and getting worse. At one point, Timothy Limbo jumped far to one side and pointed, "Whoa! Look at that thing!"

A centipede more than two feet long scuttled past, with its tail raised up over its back. Like a scorpion, it had a vicious barb protruding from the end of that tail segment. "That must be one of the brown stingers we were warned about," he said uneasily.

Glancing back, Duran shrugged. "No. Brown stingers eat those."

After that, Timothy noticeably had a few of his caspers constantly flitting out and back. It was still a mystery whether they were his subconscious mind manifesting gralic force in these little whirlwinds or whether the caspers were actually independent life forms that had for some reason attached themselves to him. Timothy treated them like beloved pets and said that they often brought back information he had not seen before. They could squeeze through any opening that was not airtight, few people noticed them even in broad daylight and they were silent. They were perfect little spies, he often said.

For the past hour, the party had been striding parallel to a broad river on their right that glistened in the sunlight, and from which an occasional large fish would leap out of the water to snap at an insect and then splash back down. There was no view of the lake itself as yet. The Griffin became agitated as they descended downhill, sometimes flapping the huge brown-feathered wings as if eager to take flight. Prince Duran patted the beast reassuringly. He glanced back at the KDF members. "Stay awake! Little Friend knows danger when it is near."

The party entered a large open area that seemed to have been deliberately cleared, with fire or with axe. The KDF members shared an increasingly uneasy sensation of entering an arena. Overhead, the tree branches and dense leaves created a canopy through which the sunlight filtered with a distinct greenish tint. Pausing in the center of the clearing with Little Friend pawing at the ground and snuffling, the KDF members subconsciously drew closer together. Jocelyn asked in a low voice, "Tim?"

"My pals are seeing at least a dozen men approaching us from behind," he said, "As if they have been following us. They look sorta like South American natives. They each have a tattoo on their chests of a black snake with the tail down their stomachs and the head up by their collarb-"

He was cut off in mid-word as heavy rope netting dropped down on them all from overhead. There were separate nets, with strands thick and tough, weighted at the ends with round stones. Even the Griffin was taken offguard and forced down by the impact. Following closely upon the nets, more than twenty nearly-naked men jumped down from the overhead branches as well, armed with carven war clubs that ended in round bulbs. In an instant, they were pounding away murderously at the heads of the KDF members, Duran and Little Friend.

Only Demrak Jim managed to strike back. Her bone blade was drawn and had plunged deep into the chest of a Lake Dweller before she become more hopelessly entangled in the netting, The bludgeons smashing away at her head finally felled her.

VI.

It was almost dusk when Haley managed to get her mind organized enough for anything that could be called coherent thought. Her head ached as if it was still being pummeled, and for the first time her vision was blurred. She saw double for a while. The Windcatcher could not repress a moan as she stirred and tried to look around. She couldn't get up. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her, and her ankles were lashed together. It seemed to take forever for her to understand the situation.

Her clothing had been stripped away, but the Lake Dwellers evidently had no idea how to unfasten the paramagnetic seams which held her flexible Trom armor in one seemingly unbroken piece. The armor still covered her except for head, hands and legs. This had happened a few times before when she had been captured by enemies, and it was a comfort to her. Her cloak had been taken, but the supposed Air Gem at its clasp was actually just a blue tourmaline used as decoy. Haley wore the real talisman on a choker under her armor.

There was a lot to take in with a throbbing headache. Haley tried not to move her head at all because it hurt so much. Just using her eyes, she tried to figure out the situation. She was lying in the dirt, propped up against a stockade of untrimmed logs which ran around a village of several hundred people. Individual huts varied, but most seemed just big enough for a small family of four or five people at most. A great deal of labor had gone into the wall around the village, the well-crafted huts, the forty foot high watch tower that stood in one corner of the stockade. A furious bonfire was raging in the center of the village, where some children were already doing a wild dance around the flames. This involved stamping their feet and clapping their hands every four steps, and they seemed to be practicing the moves.

The Lake Dwellers moving back and forth on their various errands were not a bad-looking bunch, she decided grudgingly, especially compared to those Mountain Men. They were copper-skinned and dark-haired, lean and almost naked, wearing skirts of woven grass and a few decorations such as polished shells strung around the neck or bright feathers stuck in the hair on the back of their heads. Only the men bore the serpent tattoo on their chests, without exceptions.

As her head continued to clear and the awful throbbing eased up slightly, Haley Lawson felt immensely grateful that Tel Shai provided its knights with the tagra tea. Without that regenerative effect, she would be dead at the moment or at best reduced to stumbling around with chronic brain impairment. As it was, she was feeling better but certainly not eager to try jumping around.

"Glad to see you coming back to life," whispered a familiar and welcome voice near her. She turned her head with a wince to see Timothy Limbo only four feet away from her, also stripped down to the Trom armor and also propped up against the stockade wall. His face was swollen and bruised, with one eye shut, and she wondered if she looked as bad.

"Our friends are all over there," he continued. Lying on their backs in a row along the stockade wall were the other two KDF members and Duran. They had also been relieved of their outer clothing and tied hand and foot. As Haley watched, a haggard old Lake Dweller woman lifted a hollowed gourd with a reed stuck in it and forced open Demrak Jin's mouth to pour something in it. The Gelydra swallowed automatically, then gagged weakly and turned her head. Dark green liquid ran down her cheek but she had ingested some of the fluid.

"They're drugging our team with that stuff, whatever it is," Timothy said. "I guess to keep them docile."

"But they haven't given us any of it." Haley tried sitting up and leaning forward, wanting to get a better look. "Why? What do they have in mind for us that's different? That's worrying me."

The largest of the nearby huts had a heavy animal hide hanging over its doorway. Two of the Swamp Dwellers emerged, leading a middle-aged white man by a tether around his neck. The sight of a distinguished Professor Emeritus and published scholar being dragged like a dog by a leash was shocking. Albert O'Donnell was sensibly dressed in sturdy hiking boots and thick white socks, khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirt with lots of pockets, as well as a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that shielded his white-beared face.

"Hey, the guy we were sent here to rescue!" Haley muttered in some chagrin. "Professor! Hi there! Everything's gonna be all right now."

"You try to be funny at the damndest times," said Timothy.

Led over to stand in front of them, O'Donnell cleared his throat. "Um. Yes, well. Wa-Gum here has told me that four of you came from the world beyond this world. And that you are serving their most hated enemy, Duran and his devil-bird. To be honest, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you with the Lake Dwellers."

"They seem to be treating you well enough," observed Timothy. "What's the deal?"

"Oh. Yes. I seem to be valuable to the chief because I know a good deal about South Okali, beyond the Whitecap Mountains. It seems the Lake Dwellers have ambitions for raiding parties on the Skullhunters, God knows why."

"And so they're keeping you as a source of information?"

"Well, yes," Professor O'Donnell said. "Also, I was a paramedic while in college, and my medical skills have been useful to these people. I expect they will want to keep me around indefinitely." His voice dropped and became solemn. "But I must inform you that your own prospects look dismal."

Haley Lawson was recovering enough that she managed to get into a seated position, testing the strength of the ropes binding her wrists behind her. "Oh, no. Not the supper pot again. We just got away from Mountain Men who wanted to make stew out of us."

"No, no, these people are not cannibals. That is a major conflict between them and the Mountain Men. Unfortunately, they do have a custom of offering intruders into their territory to the Water Beast."

"Uh-oh, I don't like the sound of that," Timothy cut in. "Just what is this Water Beast?"

"I have never seen it," O'Donnell said. He sound genuinely grieved, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. If I had some real influence over the chief, but the customs are rigid. You two are so young, with so much of life ahead of you..."

"we're not dead yet!" snapped Timothy. Two of the little caspers came back to hover in front of him before popping out of existence. In the fading twilight, it was doubtful that O'Donnell noticed the tiny whirlwinds. "Listen," Timothy went on, "what are they doping our friends with?"

"That's a narcotic berry juice this tribe uses when someone is mortally injured or when they want to sleep for a day or so after a celebration," the Professor said. "The chief wants to keep your friends unconscious until tomorrow night so they can be the next sacrifices."

"Well, we'll see about-" began Haley but Timothy cut her off and told her not to say anything further. He was not certain he could trust this professor. If the Lake Dwellers knew how fast Tel Shai knights recovered from poison, they might just increase the dosages. As it was, Timothy thought there was a good chance that Jocelyn and Demrak Jin might shake off both the beating and the drug much quicker than these natives expected. He didn't want them to suspect that.

By now, lines of the Lake Dwellers were lighting torches at bonfire and walking slowly and deliberately single file out through the open gate in the stockade wall. Two more of the biggest warriors came over and cut the bonds around Haley and Timothy's ankles with their obsidian-blade knifes, hauling them roughly up on to their feet.

"I wouldn't try to run," the professor advised them. "These people know this area and it is getting dark. You should just go quietly and keep some dignity."

"Easy for you to say," Timothy Limbo told him sharply. Not for the first time, Timothy wished his special abilities were more useful in combat. The caspers could be useful distractions by hovering near an enemy's eyes and confusing him, but against dozens of armed men, the little manifestations were ineffective.

Haley allowed herself to be guided along the tail end of the procession leaving the village. "I still feel like crap," she grumbled. "Those guys did not have to keep hitting me after I was already knocked out..."

Ahead of them in the gloom, the long line of Lake Dwellers raised their torches and began to sing a slow, melancholy hymn to the Water

VII.

A stone pier had been built out far onto the surface of the lake, with torches on holders every few feet. At the far end was a raised platform with a intricately carved pillar which had iron rings sunk deep in its top at head level. The song lowered to a murmur as the guards marched Haley and Timothy to that pillar and tied them by the wrists to the iron rings. Bowing low, the Lake Dweller warriors walked backwards with their heads lowered to join the rest of the villagers on the shore.

Professor O'Donnell had accompanied the two KDF members out onto the platform and now he was pulled away by the tether around his neck. "I'm so sorry," he said again.

"Yeah? Why don't you stick around out here?" Timothy demanded. After they were left alone by the pillar, he said to his partner, "Haley! Can you use your powers yet?"

"Don't you think I've been trying? I can't even see straight. I bet I'm gonna have seizures or twitches after those concussions. No. Sorry, Tim, I'm a little stressed out right now."

"I can understand that," he said, trying to abrade the ropes around his wrists against the stone pillar. "Why couldn't I have just a little super-strength or a Red Spectre or something dramatic like that?"

"Oh, man. Something is moving out there," Haley whispered.

Yards away, the surface of the lake was disturbed by a impossibly huge form moving toward them. It left a wake that glistened in the torchlight. The crowd of villagers all grew completely still, holding their breaths in anticipation.

"I hate this," Windcatcher said.

Nearing the stone pier, the shape beneath the water snorted up bubbles. A horselike head bigger than a Human body rose up on a thick scaly neck and regarded them with lambent crimson eyes.

VIII.

Lying in the center of the open communal area, with only fifty warriors left to guard the village and man the watchtower, Jocelyn Garimara coughed, turned her head and suddenly vomited prodigiously onto the dirt next to her. Two of the guards shifted their grips on their spears and ventured closer. They could not know the tagra was making her system reject the narcotic berry juice.

Jocelyn's dark eyes blinked open, focused on the men approaching her and she sat up. From within her body, a dark red silhouette of pure gralic force shot upward and plunged forward to tear completely through the two guards. The men were severed where the Red Spectre sizzled though them, cauterizing the damage so there was little blood. More of the guards came running up and were cut down in their turn. The crackling outline turned its featureless head back to its host and dove back into Jocelyn's body before more than a few seconds had passed.

Beside her, she saw Demrak Jin also stirring and trying to get loose. The Gelydra woman was cursing furiously as she rolled over without being able to quick free herself. "Back to back," Jocelyn told her, "we can untie each other."

Then Duran abruptly moved about and snapped the heavy ropes off his wrists and ankles as if they were wet strings. He rose easily to his feet and for the first time, his voice deepened. "They have dared to do this to me? To the Lord of Okali?" Seeing Jocelyn and Jin nearby, he paused long enough to tear the ropes apart that were holding them, again so easily that he seemed could have broken chains with the same promptness. "You women may help me if you wish, but this vengence is mine to take!"

By now, the Lake Dweller warriors had formed a solid mass of bristling spearpoints, positioning themselves between the prisoners and the open gate to freedom. Demrak Jin bent and snatched up a spear from a fallen guard, and the grin on her face showed why the Gelydrim believed they were born with the spirit of a shark within their hearts.

For a few seconds, the stand-off held. The guards were reluctant to make the first move, still being confused and uncertain about the red apparition they had seen rip four of their brothers into halves. From the other side of the village, the whiplash shriek of Little Friend echoed in the air. The Griffin had heard his master's voice.

"I'm coming!" Duran called, but Jocelyn pressed a hand to the golden chest and said, "I've got this." She sagged at the knees, almost falling as the Gammon again flew out of her body and flashed over the heads of the dumfounded Lake Dwellers. Against one wall of the stockade was an enclosure of untrimmed logs, bound together with many strips of rawhide and prancing angrily within it was Little Friend. The Red Spectre hit that cage like a genuine lightning bolt, blowing up apart with a sharp detonation. As the manifestation swung around and returned to Jocelyn, the Griffin was freed.

Swinging away from their human enemies, the Lake Dwellers screamed in mortal terror. Nine hundred pounds of leonine body with the head and forelegs of a gigantic eagle was rushing down at them from the night sky. The rest was mere slaughter. Demrak Jin claimed a few foes with her confiscated spear and Prince Duran struck down several Lake Dwellers with open handed buffets that broke necks and cracked skulls wherever he connected. But for the most part, it was the enraged Griffin that tore through the mob of fighting men in a frenzy of beak and talons and claws. Blood was everywhere on the ground, and worse than blood.

Finally, it was over. A few of the guards had fled through the gate in panic but they were not pursued. Duran flung his arms around the savage beast, both covered in wet glistening blood. "My brother! No one captures us and lives to boast of it." The Eldar prince threw back his blond head and let rip the raptor cry that echoed through the darkness, and Little Friend answered it.

Standing some distance away, Demrak Jin turned to Jocelyn with a resentful tone, "And you people think I'M too violent! Hah!"

IX.

Only a few minutes later, Duran explained about the sacrificial ritual for the Water Beast, and hearing this made both Jocelyn and Jin take off at a full run. For once, the Eldar and his Griffin were following. They pelted along the well-worn trail that led to where the stone pier protruded out onto the lake, and suddenly all four of them skidded to a stop in baffled surprise. Lining the shore were hundreds of villagers, but they had all dropped to their knees and were weeping or beating their foreheads to the ground in distress.

Hurrying past the Lake Dwellers who seemed unaware of their presence, Jocelyn and Jin stepped up onto the platform where Haley and Timothy were still tied with their hands up to the pillar. There was a sight they could never have expected.

Stretched out on the stone surface, mouth agape and long forked tongue hanging out, the Water Beast was obviously dead. It was the unexpected demise of their tribal god right in front of them that had driven the Lake Dwellers into such hysterics. As they worked at untying their friends, Jocelyn and Demrak Jin could not stop staring at the sheer size of the monster. A hump bigger than a city bus showed where it broke the surface behind the long neck, and part of a broad flat flipper could be seen. The hide was smooth, like that of a whale or dolphin.

The Griffin sniffed at the gigantic carcass and seemed to find it unappealing. Little Friend trotted over to nuzzle up against Duran, who was staring at the grief-stricken villagers. "They have been punished enough, my brother," the Eldar said quietly.

As soon as their teammates were free, Jocelyn asked, "All right, how do you explain this, Windcatcher?"

Haley whispered, "I'll explain in a minute. But first I think we oughtta get away from here, don't you?"

One by one, the villagers were dousing their torches in the lake and standing up, still weeping bitterly. The four KDF members, accompanied by Duran and Little Friend, strode quickly past the Lake Dwellers before the grieving worshippers would realize they were getting away. As they reached the darkness beyond the pier, they met Professor O'Donnell still held on a leash by a tribesman. Demrak Jin did not even speak, she simply swung the spear in a horizontal arc that sliced open the guard's throat, then grabbed the tether herself from the dying man.

"We came to rescue you and by Grelok we will," she snarled, yanking hard and dragging the stupefied academic behind her. They raced back to the village, populated now only by the gruesome corpses of mutilated warriors, and spent half an hour recovering their field suits. They accounted for everything except Haley's blue cloak which the chief had been wearing at the lake ceremony. Duran led them away from the lake, uphill toward a less marshy area where the ground was drier. They finally paused in a field under a sky brilliant with stars shining through air that had never known industrial pollution.

"Okay, wait. Haley, you HAVE to explain what happened back there!" demanded Jocelyn with her hands on her hips.

"Oh, maybe I'll just tease you a while--okay, okay, here's what happened. I was getting control of the Air Gem again when that giant monster stuck his snout right in my face and sniffed. Now, I noticed that the Water Beast had taken a gulp of air when he surfaced and I also saw he had no gills. So I knew he was not a fish but an air-breathing animal. This is because I'm smart, do you hear me, smart."

"Haley! Will you please get on with it!"

"Sure," answered Windcatcher. "I didn't think I could do much, what with being such a pitiful battered specimen, so I drew all the air away from inside the Water Beast. I created a vaccuum around his face. So his lungs collapsed and he went into respiratory failure. He suffocated and expired just like that." She pointed an accusing finger at Timothy. "I've sometimes thought of doing this to any wiseguys who keep annoying me."

"Amazing," Jocelyn said. "You are full of surprises. Well, I calculate we are past due to return to the world. Jin, hold onto the professor so he comes back with us."

"I've got him."

Jocelyn Garimara turned to Duran and held out her hand but then sheepishly lowered it as he did not seem to recognize the gesture. "Prince Duran, I hope we have made an ally today. Maybe even a friend. The offer will always be open if you wish to return to the world so we can try to heal you. Or if you wish to go back to Elvedal-"

"No," Duran said shortly. "I do not need allies or friends. There is only one Lord of Okali. You go now, never return. Next time you may not survive this land." The Eldar folded his arms across his chest, tilted his head back and looked down his nose at the visitors.

Jocelyn opened her mouth for an irritated comeback, but the faint blue shimmer of the gralic gate surrounded the intruders and, as it faded, they were gone. Duran and the Griffin were left alone together in the field. Gazing back toward the village of the Lake Dwellers, the golden prince screamed the cry of a hunting bird again, and again Little Friend joined him until the hills rang with the frightening echoes. In a short time, perhaps only days, Duran would forget most of this encounter and not remember the strange visitors. His lonely battle to rule Okali would continue as it had done for more than a century.

9/27/2016