dochermes | Entries tagged with stuart duffy

"The Mountain of Iron"

7/4-7/5/1977

I.

Shiro Mitsuru was, if anything, even more ready for trouble than usual. Xiao-sing's narrow waterfront streets were still and shadowy in that hour before dawn when he left the docks. The widely spaced street lamps gave insufficient light. There was a clatter of feet on the cobblestones down an alley to his right. Then came the sounds of a heavy fall, scuffling, a choked-off scream for help.

Clearly, no one with any prudence would have not hurried away. But Shiro quickened his pace and raced around the corner to nearly fall over a writhing, struggling mass on the cobblestones. The dim light of a street lamp showed what was going on. Two men fought there in grim silence. One was a slim young Chinese in European clothes, pinned down on his back in the wet muck. Kneeling on his chest was an assailant in tradional knee-length robe over loose trousers. He was much bigger than his victim, with a grinning face like a demonic mask. One talon-like hand clutched the throat of the smaller man and a wavy-bladed knife flashed in his other hand.

Shiro had seen his type hundreds of times before. Since birth, he had been the target for assassins of the White Web. This was one of the bloody hatchet-men the Tongs and secret societies use for their deadly work. Without hesitation, the Tiger Fury plunged closer and knocked the man senseless with a front snap kick under the chin. The hatchet-man remained stretched out without a twitch and the young Chinese sprang up, gasping and wild eyed.

"Thank you, my friend," he gurgled in English. "I owe his life to you. Here, take this..." And he tried to stuff a wad of green banknotes into Shiro's hand.

"You owe me nothing," Shiro scoffed, stepping back. "I'm glad to fight scum like that."

"Then at least please accept my humble and sincere thanks," the victim persisted, seizing his hand to shake it. "I know you, do I not? You're the new Tiger Fury?"

"Not yet," Shiro answered. "I've just begun studying Kumundu. If Teacher Chael does give me that title, it's at least a year away." Despite his pretense of humility, Shiro had complete confidence he would succeed and he had already begun to think of himself as a Tiger Fury.

"I will not forget," he said. "I will repay you some day. My name is Fong Yung-Tao, of the prosperous family Fong. Be wary, the society will not forget you either. But now I must not linger. This is my one chance of escape. If I can get aboard the British ship that is anchored in the bay,I will be safe. But I must go before this animal revives. Better that you go too. May good fortune reward you. But now beware of STIGMA."

The next instant he was racing down the street at full speed. Watching in amazement, Shiro saw him sprint onto the docks and dive off, without the slightest pause. Surprised, the Tiger Fury heard the splash as the man hit the water and a little later he saw, in the brightening pale dawn, a widening ripple aiming toward the British S.S. RESOLUTE, which lay out in the bay. Shiro was wondering what it all meant, when the hatchet-man moaned scrambled uncertainly to his feet.

"Ashamed of yourself, aren't you?" demanded the Tiger Fury. "Any good assassin would have finished a mere office worker off before I showed up."

The only answer was a glare of such venomous hatred that even Shiro felt alarmed. The killer limped painfully away into the shadows. Watching him hobble out of sight, Shiro was tempted to grab the man and administer a thorough beating to make him harmless for a few weeks. But really, the whole business was not his concern. Shiro dismissed the affair from his mind and continued down the street.

He was so innured to danger that he took it for granted.

His father and mother had stolen a fortune from the treasury of the White Web, an act of either incredible daring or utter foolishness. That centuries-old network of assassins had immediately launched a hunt for the couple that lasted fourteen years. Their newborn son grew up hiding in motel rooms, rented apartments and in cars on the road, never knowing a real home. As soon as he could walk, the parents had spent their wealth on having Shiro train under every available martial arts master in every style possible. He never knew if this had been their goal for him all along or if they just thought it was the only way he could survive the unending attacks from everything from ninja to brumal to Dacoits to snipers.

Just before his fifteenth birthday, Shiro returned to a secluded cottage in the New Territories of Hong Kong to find the White Web had caught up with his parents at last. He had only been able to mourn them briefly because he still had to stay on the move. Then he had met an elderly sifu who had sponsored him to apply at the Order of Tel Shai. Shiro had been accepted as a student by the legendary Teacher Chael and broke all odds by successfully qualifying as the new Tiger Fury.

For the moment, he decided he would get a little sleep in preparation for the day. He had come to like the turmoil of this disputed island, and felt determined to explore it. He entered into a seedy boarding house kept by a Portuguese man named Pasqual, went into his rented room and flung himself down on the ancient single bed for a few hours slumber.

He was awakened by the faintest whisper of sound. Instantly ready for an attack, he glared at the locked door and saw something protruding under it. A piece of stiff paper the size of a playing card. Shiro used a washcloth to pick it up, not touching it with his bare skin. No message was written on it, either English or Chinese, just an inked drawing of a bright yellow human skull with an X through it. That was all.

Irritated at not getting a full sleep, Shiro rose, still dressed, and shouted for Pasqual. When the manager hurried up, the Tiger Fury said, "Look, Pasqual. Someone stuck this under the door. Do you know what the meaning of it is?"

He took a single look. Then he leaped back with a gasped, "It means Death. it's the murder notice of STIGMA."

"What do you mean?" Shiro demanded. "Who is this STiGMA?"

"A new secret society," gasped Pasqual, shaking visibly. "International criminals, murderers. They are tied to Winter Snow and the Black Mantis. Once I saw a men receive the sign of the yellow skull. He was dead before the sun rose again. Get aboard any ship you can, Mr Mitsuru. Hide aboard it, stay out of sight until she sails. Maybe you can escape."

"Slink away and hide myself like a kicked dog?" Shiro growled. "You still don't know me at all. I'm feared myself wherever fighting arts are practiced. I've never run from any man yet. Tell me where I can find STIGMA and I'll smash it flat."

But Pasqual was obviously gripped by intense fear. "I'll tell you no such thing," he gasped. "I'm risking my life talking to you at all. Get out, quick. You mustn't stay here. I can't have another murder in this house. Go, please, sir."

"All right," the Tiger Fury snapped. "Don't give yourself a heart attack, Pasqual. I'm going."

Shiro traveled light, with only a canvas knapsack holding some clothes and toilet items. Sewn into his loose trousers were various bank cards and bundles of money. He normally carried no weapons at all. Annoyed at the situation, Shiro stalked stiffly out into crowded streets to get some food. While he ate roasted meat on skewers from a street vendor, the Tiger Fury reviewed the situation and realized that he had somehow blundered into the sights of still another mysterious gang of shadowy cut-throats. As if being marked for death by both the White Web and Winter Snow wasn't bad enough!

Grabbing two oranges and an unbroken bottle of water, Shiro strolled out into the streets again, with their filth and glamor, sordidness and allure going hand in hand; throngs of people buying and selling, bargaining in a half-dozen languages, sailors and merchants and outcasts of all nations rolling through the crowds...

He began to have a familiar sensation that he was being followed. Again and again Shiro wheeled quickly and scanned the crowd, but in that boiling swarm, it was impossible to tell whether anyone was trailing him or not. Yet the sensation persisted. A life spent on the run had taught Shiro to trust his instincts. Where any normal civilian would have been frightened or at least uneasy, he was used to the sensation of being followed. Let killers do their worst, he thought. They would meet more than their match.

( the rest of the story )

"The League of Predators"

5/3/2000

I.

The doorbell woke her when it rang. From where she had been napping on the couch in the office, Unicorn bounced up so quickly that she almost fell. For an instant, she was not clear on where she was or what she was supposed to be doing. In fact, her sleep-muddled mind had some vague idea that she was going to be late for school again. Then she snapped out of it. The bell rang again. Ashley Whitaker tugged down her white pullover where it had ridden up, wiped at her eyes and rushed to the hall to get to the front door. She was still so tired. This erratic training schedule was killing her, she thought.

The little platinum blonde wished she could take a second to press an ice pack over her burning eyes. That was a trick that had helped her go without sleep many times. Sliding open a wooden panel slightly above her own face level, she revealed a monitor screen and a bank of buttons. She pressed one and mumbled, "Hold on, I'll be right with you."

A familiar voice answered, "Hiya, Unicorn. No rush." It was the unmistakably hoarse smoker's voice of Inspector Harold Klein. As the monitor screen lit up, she clicked by mistake the controls that opened both the street door and the inner door. That was her first fatal mistake. The foyer was revealed as the inner door swung open, showing the short stocky form standing there in the ancient white raincoat. She knew that weathered face with its noticeable glass eye, crinkly greying hair and wry crooked smile.

"Come on in," she said and that was the second mistake that would bring her to the edge of death. No matter who was out there, even Bane himself, the proper procedure demanded she wait until the Trom sensors produced a positive ID of anyone trying to enter the building. She herself had often had to wait to be cleared even after only stepping outside for a minute.

Ashley managed a smile at Klein. The cranky old grouch. "What are you waiting for?" she said, stifling a yawn with the back of one tiny hand. "I said you can come in." Then she glanced up at the monitor screen next to her and her heart missed a beat. The image on the monitor wasn't Klein. It showed a tall haggard man with a prominent nose and deepsunk shadowed eyes. He was wearing a formal dress suit that had seen better days. Unicorn recognized him from the files she had studied that very day.

"Indigo!" she yelped, jabbing for the button that would close the inner door but reacting far too late. The Illusionist raised a massive Colt .45 automatic and snapped off three shots that were deafening indoors. One bullet slammed into her stomach, the next two struck her high on the chest and Ashley was flung back off her feet to roll into the open doorway of the room where she had napping a minute earlier. She remained sprawled in an awkward pose with one arm bent under her.

Behind Indigo, the other four members of the League of Predators were revealed as the illusion of concealment faded. Avathor, Repel, Duffy the Sumo, and Fatal Wasp. They closed the outer door behind them and stepped inside the front hall, but only with some difficulty. Their feet seemed to drag until they were well inside, nearly at the base of the wide staircase leading up to the second floor. Ahead of them was a wide staircase with carved mahogany bannisters, leading up to the second floor. Both walls of the front hall were lined with bookcases broken by unmarked and closed doors.

"That's funny," Repel grumbled. He looked athletic and fit enough, with a square sullen face under short black hair. "It was like walking through quicksand. I had a helluva time for a second there."

Avathor laughed. He was a dramatic figure whose darkly bronzed skin which contrasted vividly with the white crewcut and pale blue eyes. He wore an outfit of riding boots, corduroy breeches and tan flannel shirt. The Gralic Leech hurried to explain, "That fool girl gave us permission to enter. Otherwise, this building has a potent mystic defense... I suspect the Yellow Shield might be under the floor."

"Right, whatever you say," Repel scoffed. "Listen, better make sure blondie there snuffed it before we go any further."

The two remaining members of the gang could hardly have looked less alike. Despite his name, Stuart Duffy seemed to be a full Japanese, towering six feet eleven inches tall and weighing well over four hundred and forty pounds, while Holly Kirschner barely reached four feet nine and would struggle to make eighty pounds. Yet they were dressed very much alike in boots, dark pants and long-sleeved work shirts tailored for them because their extreme sizes made it impossible to buy clothes that would even begin to fit. The Sumo smiled down at the Fatal Wasp, who glared back at him with green eyes as venomous as her codename.

"He's right, Indigo," Avathor ordered. "Finish her. One more bullet but in the back of the skull."

"No, no, she took three slugs in the torso. I don't want to look at her head blownn open," Indigo protested.

The Gralic Leech took a menacing step toward the Illusionist. "You left your courage behind you when you got out of prison," he said slowly. "Maybe you aren't strong enough to be on this team."

"I had a successful career all over Europe for decades," Indigo snapped. "You should only last as long."

Before the confrontation could go any further, the door of a small elevator to their right opened with a DING! and a flash of the light bar. Naturally, the League of Predators swung as one to see who or what might be emerging. With perfect timing, Sheng Mo-Yuan hurtled down the staircase and dove headlong into them.

( the rest of the story )

"Sceptre"

7/24/-7/25/2000

I.

Unicorn was dressed all in white as usual... hiking boots, thick cotton socks,snug shorts and a white T-shirt with a leather vest over it. The vest had six deep pockets holding gadgets, with two more on the inside, and the brown leather belt around her narrow waist held further pouches full of equipment as well as one of the anesthetic dart guns in a flap holster. Although she wore the silk-thin Trom armor under her clothes, she had retracted it up to her crotch and up to her elbows to leave her legs and forearms bare.

Slung in across her back was the white leather cylindrical sheath which held her talisman which gave her both her powers and her code name... the Unicorn horn.

As Argent saw her flash a brilliant smile at him when she hopped over a fallen log in their way, he had to admit she was a gorgeous young woman. The slender but curvy little body, the perfect chiseled face with long platinum-blonde hair and crystal blue eyes now hidden behind polarized aviator's gunglasses... she looked like she should be posing for magazine covers. But, he also realized, despite all that she could be such an intense pain in the neck to work with. The girl was just impossible.

In contrast to his partner, the Chujiran was wearing the full KDF field suit. All black. The boots, tough pants and waist-length jacket with its second inner layer of the Trom armor, and with the visored helmet on, gave him more protection than ceramic plate and Kevlar would have but weighed no more than regular clothing would have. He was comfortable enough even in the near-tropical heat because the humidity was low and the field suit fabric regulated his body temperature to optimal. He had two canteens on his belt.

"I can't imagine why Jeremy doesn't make you wear a field suit like the rest of us," he grumbled as he caught up with her. "I swear, he lets you break more rules than the rest of us combined."

"Aw, every teacher has a pet," Ashley chuckled. "Say Sheng, did I tell I was talking to my friend Gwen, you remember, she works at her father's Red Pepper restaurant on Canal Street? Anyway, I asked her about Chujir. She said some Chinese believe it's a sort of mythical homeland of the Han people. Like a Garden of Eden sort of fable."

"So I've heard," Argent said as he stepped up next to her. "If they only knew how real Chujir is.I don't think there are more than three of us in the world at any time. Wait. Sshh." He held up a hand in warning as the sound of feet tromping came nearer. Ahead of them, the trail bent sharply and a squad of Melgar soldiers marched into view.

Sheng shifted the focus of gralic energy in his body to enhanced speed. His reflexes and voluntary movements doubled in speed instantly and he was hurtling forward before the Melgarin could react to his sudden appearance. The nearest one, a grizzled veteran with long mustaches down either side of his mouth, had barely begun to swing his long-handled axe up before Argent exploded a one-two-three combination of punches that threw the man back hard against the comrades behind him. Sheng hopped over all three as they got tangled and confused. He found himself between two brawny Melgarin both taller and heavier than he was, but at only five feet five, the Chujiran adventurer was used to this. He blasted a side kick into the nearer soldier's stomach, drew that leg back and shot out a reverse roundhouse that slewed the other man's jaw askew with a crunching noise.

Although his training in Kumundu under Teacher Chael was still that of a novice, back in Chujir he had been studying under Tang Ming for the past two years. She had gotten him in condition and taught him basic moves. His power of increasing his strength or speed was at this point his greatest asset. One of the Melgar soldiers managed a wide slash with a three-foot-sword but Sheng leaped aside quite out reach, then dove in again to slam a backfist to the cheek that made his opponent sway drunkenly. Within a few seconds, half of the Melgarin were dazed or dumbfounded and only beginning to get their bearings.

Off to one side, Ashley Whitaker held the long-barreled air pistol and squeezed off one silent shot after another. She was the best in marksmanship of the new team. Since childhood, Ashley had been strenuously raised by her mother to take over as the second Unicorn. Where she spotted bare skin, she sent an anesthetic dart with unerring aim even though her targets were moving. The men who were hit slapped at the unexpected stinging but then dropped unconscious only a few seconds later.

The soldier moving toward her had a high collar and long sleeves on his mail shirt, as well as a tough leather cowl. There was not much of an opening left uncovered to aim for. Not knowing she was making what her mother called 'that stupid face,' Ashley squinted one eye, stuck her tongue out and sent a dart right into the bulbous tip of the Melgar's prominent nose. The crosseyed expression at he tried to focus on the dart made her grin wickedly.

A Melgar with a bright yellow beard had managed to seize Argent from behind in a fierce bear hug. The Chujiran struggled for an instant before shifting his focus to increased strength. The bigger man found he was suddenly trying to hold a wriggling opponent who was stronger than he was, who inexorably forced his arms apart and broke free. Sheng seized the front of the bearded man's mail shirt and yanked him into an elbow strike to the face.

At this point, the enemies who were not unconscious were too stunned or pained to be any immediate threat but they would be shaking it off in a minute. Ashley straightened up, calculating that she still had five darts in her clip, as a loud buzzing sounded right behind her. She whirled right into a small hard fist that connected to her chin with forty miles per hour behind it. Unicorn yelped and fell over backwards into the underbrush, rolling to jump back up on her feet. She saw Fatal Wasp looping around and diving straight at her.

Tiny and lean at several inches under five feet tall, Holly Kirschner was dressed all in dark green with yellow trim... low slippers, tights and a long-sleeved pullover. The long black hair swung free. At her back, Wasp's translucent wings blurred into near invisibility as she hovered at face level. Ashley had kept a grin on her dart gun and, as she got her footing, she swung the weapon up into position.

"Oh no, not you again!" she blurted out before the Fatal Wasp whirled around in mid-air and kicked her high on one cheek. Unicorn fell down hard with lights flashing in her vision and her hearing obscured. She did not catch herself but landed on one side and groaned. Seeing this, Sheng shifted back to heightened speed and rushed to snatch the Wasp out of the air in a leaping tackle. They landed on the hard dirt with his weight forcing her out flat. Even taken by surprise like that, Kirschner grabbed the wrist of the hand pinning her down and extended sharp black barbs from beneath her fingernails. Sheng howled in unexpected pain as a massive dose of venom was injected into his bloodstream. He broke away, clutching at his wounded hand and feeling that arm grow numb up to the elbow. For the moment, he was preoccupied with not passing out.

Rising up off the ground, wings beating furiously, Fatal Wasp yelled at the Melgarin. "The Master has sent me to summon you back to base! You! and You! Help those who are having trouble getting on their feet, let's go!"

Over by the bushes, Ashley got to her hands and knees, rubbing the side of her bruised face. Seeing Sheng injured only made her angrier. The little blonde unsnapped the catch on the leather sheath across her back and drew out the Horn. Its flat end was capped with ensalir to further strengthen the spell put on it by the Eldarin thousands of years ago. Holding the ancient talisman up with both hands, Ashley sang out in a clear voice, "With this Horn, I remove thy power!"

The effect was instantaneous. Fatal Wasp gasped as her wings retracted into her body through slits in her tunic and she fell to hit the ground, stumbling but staying on her feet. The sharp barbs slid back into her fingers and were gone. She was Human again.

Rising herself, gripping the Horn ready to use it as a club or a stabbing weapon, Unicorn yelled, "Be careful who you kick in the face, missy!"

Wasp's dark green eyes had narrowed to slits. "Oh, I'll do worse than that, little girl...." she hissed as she curled her hands into fists and stalked forward.

Suddenly wishing she had followed procedure for once and worn the protective field suit with its helmet. Ashley shifted the Unicorn horn in her grip and put on her brave face. "Where's a can of Raid when you need it?"

"I don't find you funny," Kirschner replied. "I ought to shut you up for good."

At that exact second, the clearing was filled by a score of Cojobe tribesmen running in from all directions, screaming as loudly as they could. The dark-skinned men in their coarse white pants and ponchos brandished knives and spears, several held swords they had taken from fallen enemies. But the Melgarin had mostly recovered and were standing with their own weapons at the ready. The next few minutes was a confused melee of shouts and agonized screams, thuds and slashing noises. Bigger, brawnier and better armed than the Cojobes, the Melgar soldiers had mail coats and helmets to give them a further edge. After the first few seconds, the skirmish turned into a slaughter as the fierce natives were cut down one after
another.

During those few minutes, when Ashley's attention was momentarily distracted by the fighting, the Wasp lunged in and seized the Unicorn horn with both hands to wrest it free and fling far out of reach into the brush. Ashley threw a decent straight punch, but before it could connect she was grabbed from behind by one of the Melgarin and lifted free of the ground. His arms around her chest cut off her breath and pinned her arms to her sides. The Wasp chose a spot on Unicorn's chin, drew her fist back past her own ear and punched the girl as hard as she possibly could. Ashley was not completely unconscious but she dropped in the Melgar's grasp and showed no signs of further resistance. Blood appeared on a split lip.

"You, Lundigar," ordered Fatal Wasp. "Bring her at once to the Master. Do not fail."

"To hear is to obey," the big Melgar grumbled as he turned and trotted off down the trail. The Wasp saw that some fighting was still going on. Almost within her reach, a Cojobe abruptly had his head lopped cleanly off by a Melgar sword whirling in a horizontal arc. She drew back from the skirmish. How had that blonde kid taken away her powers? Despite her desperate concentration, neither her wings nor her barbs would emerge. Feeling vulnerable as she had not in years, Holly Kirschner realized she was a rather petite woman standing a few feet away from murderous giants in armor who were swinging their weapons with gusto. She spun and wondered if she could retrieve that strange ivory horn she had thrown away...

A hand grasped her shoulder and swung her around to receive a brutal hooking punch to the solar plexus. The Wasp blacked out from that blow. Sheng had not been on the Tagra tea diet long enough to receive its full benefits, but his healing factor was elevated enough that he could more or less function. Still in blinding pain as the venom burned in his system and with his right arm numb, the Chujiran fighter saw that Unicorn had been carried away by a Melgar. He started after them, stumbled and caught himself. He was in no condition to pursue anyone. Reluctantly, Sheng decided the best course of action to take and he got the stunned Wasp up over one shoulder, then headed back toward his own team at the best pace he could manage. Drawing on enhanced strength to a limited extent, he heard the final thuds and yelling of the fight fade behind him.

( the rest of the story )

"The Necklace of Shrunken Heads"

6/20-6/21/2003

I.

Along the banks of the great sluggish brown river Nyatowa, dozens of Indians stopped their chores and stared at the strange black craft that lowered silently from the sky. The stealthcopter CORBY had pontoons fitted for this trip, and it settled onto the surface of the water near the shore as lightly as a leaf falling from a tree. These were dark gold-skinned people of medium height, with coarse straight black hair tied up on their heads with cord. A few were completely naked, but most wore a cloth of some sort tied around their middles. Both men and women had ritual scars on their faces.

As the CORBY came to a landing and the rotors slowed, the tribes-people came to the banks and stared. Some of them had seen airplanes fly overhead before, they were not completely isolated, but the black helicopter had an ominous look to it than would make anyone stare. Somehow, the CORBY drifted in closer even without the rotors stilled, until it butted up against the muddy bank.

A hatch on the side of the helicopter slid open with a hiss as the pressurized air in the cabin was released, and a young woman in a tight black outfit hopped nimbly out to land on the bank. Her platinum hair shone in the hazy tropical sunlight in a way that made the natives gasp. Ashley Whitaker grinned in a confident way, adjusted the three-foot tapering cylinder strapped across her back, and raised both open hands in a placating gesture.

"I come in peace," she announced in Prilyrdyn, the primal tongue instilled in every conscious mind but which only a few realize can be used. "Unicorn is here to help."

"Young woman with hair of old woman!" shouted a man. "She is a dreamwalker."

"If you say so," Unicorn agreed pleasantly. Two more people had emerged from the helicopter, both also dressed in the black field suits of heavy boots, pants and waist-length jackets. One was a tall thin man with a Y-shaped leather quiver fashioned across his back and carrying an unstrung longbow in his other hand. The other was a woman of average height, with glossy black hair brushed straight back that reached past her shoulders.

At twenty-six, Lauren Sable Reilly was so serious and so unselfconscious that she had never realized how attractive she was. Her snub nose, wide mouth and huge dark eyes gave her a face that was distinctive and instantly likable. Sable's powers of enhanced perception were invaluable, of course, but it was her conscientious personality that had led to her being the captain of the KDF team. She placed a friendly hand on Ashley's shoulder and glanced over to see that Josef had strung his bow and was keeping watch before addressing the tribe.

"Humble greetings," she called out in Prilyrdyn. "We are not from the government to the south. Nor do we want anything from you good people. Our purpose is to find King Kuviko and the Mountain of Iron and to end their reign."

The uproar that followed this announcement was ferocious, went on for ten minutes and only settled down when one of the older natives raised his hands and stamped a foot for silence. "Hear the strangers out! Keep your tongues behind your teeth!"

Sable bowed her head politely. "Will you tell us what you know of these men?"

"They are taken by bad spirits," the older native answered. He wore a necklace of shells that had been elaborately carved and a quill through his nose, marking him as a chief. "As cruel as the Acerimos tribe have always been, they were never so bloodthirsty. With the Mountain of Iron as leader, they take more heads between each moon than they used to claim in a generation. They have poisoned streams for some unexplained reason. And many of our young women have been dragged from their huts and never seen again."

"The Mountain of Iron," grumbled Josef angrily. "Akizuki."

"I know," Sable whispered to him. "It has to be Stuart Duffy. Now we know where he's been hiding." Turning to the chief, the KDF leader pressed a thumb to her chest and said, "We have come to destroy the Mountain of Iron. He is exiled from a distant country he may not return to, and wherever he goes he brings death."

The old man turned and discussed this with his people, who still seemed on the edge of rioting. When he seemed to reach a consensus, he bent toward Sable and lowered his voice. "The giant man has an evil heart. It would be well if he left this life. He rules the Acerimos and their King Kuviko has been put under his thumb. Go upstream, against the flow of the river. If you walk along the bank, it will take two days but Acerimo sentries will see you before you reach the Acerimos city."

"City?"

"Stone buildings tall as trees," said the chief. "The Acerimos are the many-times grandchildren of a great people who are no more."

Sable bowed from the waist and smiled. "We thank you for the knowledge, wise one. When next we meet, I swear it will be with news that the Mountain-" Her sentence broke off as Josef Jubliec blurred into action. A body fell from a tree forty yards away with a thud as it hit the hard dirt. Sticking up from its chest was a three-foot arrow. Josef was lowering his bow already, but no one there, even the Indians who had been staring at him, had followed his motions as he had fitted a shaft to the string and left fly.

The Blind Archer exhaled slowly and fixed his dark blue eyes on Sable. His weathered face made him look older than he really was. "That man had a blowpipe and he had raised it, captain."

"Good work, Josef," Sable said. "Anyone else?"

"Not that I can spot."

She paused to expand her perceptions. Lauren Sable Reilly had the ability to focus gralic energy into her various senses, giving her enhanced vision or hearing or smell. Concentrating, she scanned the jungle around them but caught not a glimpse of any humans other than the tribespeople right in front of her. She withdrew her perception and came back to normal, annoyed with herself that she had not detected a threat before Josef had.

"Keep alert," she whispered unnecessarily.

The Blind Archer did not reply. His life had left him always suspicious and on guard. Meanwhile, some of the tribe had gone over to examine the body and among them was Unicorn. The little blonde squatted over the corpse and didn't even bother taking a pulse. "He's a goner," she said. "Arrow right in the heart and a fifteen foot fall head down." Picking up the blowpipe made of bamboo, she also found a pouch that she handled very carefully. "Five wooden darts dipped in some resin. Poison, of course."

"We must leave now," Sable told the chief. "I don't think there was another Acerimo with this one but we don't want the Mountain of Iron to be warned of our approach. I think we will take the body and dump it a few miles away..."

"No. Leave it here. We will not waste it," the chief said blandly.

Her best effort at a poker face kept Sable from reacting. "That's up to you, of course."

"Meat is meat and hard to find here," the chief smiled happily.

( the rest of the story )