dochermes | Entries tagged with valera

SIRION II: Strength Alone Is Not Enough

7/9/2024

I.

Timothy Limbo felt an oppressive sense of being overwhelmed by the three Melgarin in the car. It wasn't that the grey Toyota Matrix was cramped, it was that all three of the passengers were so much bigger than he was. Next to him, even Princess Valera was six feet tall, athletic in build like a tennis player and imposing in dignity even with her fine-featured face and golden hair. In the back seat, both Sulak and Galvan were well over that height and more than two hundred and forty pounds of hard muscle and bone. Their sheer physical presence was intimidating. Timothy himself was only five ten and wiry in build, but even if he had been a weightlifter, he would still be only Human. And they were not.

He had seen each of them in action. Their bodies were charged with sheer gralic force until they were almost impossible to harm and as strong as flesh and blood could possibly be. Sitting close to them felt like being next to a humming machine of immense power. It felt risky. Tim's own gift of distance viewing through his floating 'caspers' seemed so trivial in comparison.

"I'm still surprised that all three of you are in the real world together," he said. Tim was driving slowly through evening traffic on the main street of Poughkeepsie, with plenty of red lights. "In any other circumstances, having you assembled would seem like overkill."

In the back, Galvan responded. He knew Tim best, as he had been a member of the KDF team the past few years and they had worked together. Wearing a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled back a turn and faded jeans, with his curly brown hair and short beard, he resembled a stereotypical lumberjack. "To be honest, Tim, King Holmir keeps us separated most of the time in case we get killed. He doesn't want to lose all three living Champions at once."

Sulak added, "You see what a serious threat this is, Tim. Our liege feels all three of us may be needed. To fight Sirion...! I don't know what would compare in your culture. Seeing a respected, even venerated hero from earliest history alive today as a common criminal." Sulak was slightly taller and lighter in build than Galvan, with shaggy black hair and dark blue eyes in a rough, craggy face. He was wearing dark business suits without a tie, the top shirt button left open.

"That's the scene of last night's attack," said Timothy, pulling into a small parking lot at the end of a block. A one-story building with the sign COLLICK'S PHARMACY - THERAPEUTIC AND DISABLED EQUIPMENT. The store was closed and dark with only the minor lights on inside the window for insurance purposes. All four of them got out to get a look. Standing next to the Melgarin, Timothy felt uncomfortably like a young boy, which irritated him enough to deliberately focus entirely on the situation.

The rear door to the building was entirely missing. A heavy piece of wood had been fixed into place over the opening, and yellow police tape made an X over it. As they stood there taking it in, Timothy said, "Our sources with the police tell us that at two in the morning, silent alarms went off. The security cameras only recorded a brief glimpse of someone entering before they were smashed. Locked metal cabinets were pulled open and quantities of painkillers including Oxycontin and Fentanyl patches were taken, as well as some Amyl Nitrate."

Valera walked over to the low white metal barrier intended to keep cars from rolling into the side street. "Still some broken glass. The door was thrown twenty feet?"

Unexpectedly, Sulak made a disgusted growling sound and shook his head. "Obviously this is not Sirion, he can't be still alive all these thousands of years. It must be a new Melgar born with the Legacy of Malberon. We do not appear at any specific intervals. The lad displayed growing strength and some elderly rogue is exploiting him!"

"That may well be," Galvan grudgingly admitted. He seldom agreed with anything Sulak said, but even the bad blood between them was not enough to contradict the idea at this time. "No portraits or sculptures of Sirion have survived to the present. We have only the brief mention in an epic poem of a thin body and black hair."

Still standing where the door had been thrown, Valera asked, "What about the woman who was killed?"

The three men came over to join her. Timothy's voice had softened, "That was awful. The police identified her as a forty-eight year old insurance agent who was out walking her dog late. This is usually a quiet residential part of the city. The left side of her head was flattened by a single impact."

"She must have heard the noise and come closer out of curiosity," Sulak added.

Galvan lowered his head. "And this new Sirion...we might as well call him that for the moment... didn't want her to talk. So he swatted her like an annoying fly."

"This is NOT our ancestor Sirion," objected Sulak, "And I don't think we should use such a respected name for a common thief and murderer."

"Oh, seriously? It's just for convenience..."

Valera interrupted. Although she looked like a fresh college graduate in her early twenties, she was in fact over eighty. Melgarin enjoyed a lengthy life span. "Don't start another quarrel, you two. We must concentrate on this if we want to keep more Humans from being killed."

Leaning her head so she could whisper to Timothy, who was standing next to her, she said, "They have a grudge going back fifty years! I'll explain later." Then, to her fellow Melgarin, she continued, "This robbery is quite a distance from the first one. What does that mean?"

"That this Sirion imposter is on the move," Sulak offered. "He may be heading South."

"No, no," Galvan said. "We need a third crime to be sure. If it continues in a southerly direction, you have a point. But if it's within the same general area, the fake Sirion is probably operating within a convenient circle of his home base."

Timothy stepped in. "It's already ten. Our Trom scanners can pick up police broadcasts and called-in burglar alarms. We could be ready to head for the next crime as soon as it happens."

Everyone agreed. It was Princess Valera who said, "If I know my fellow Champions, they would like to roast a bull by now and eat it bones and all."

"I saw a diner on the way here, maybe ten minutes away," Timothy offered. "I might get a meat loaf dinner instead of half a bull, though."

( the rest of the story )

ATRUMO THE CONQUEROR II: The Sharp Edges of Hope

3/12/2015

I.

Valera kept herself visible to everyone as much as possible, knowing her fame made her a valuable rallying point. Along with the absent Sulak and Galvan, she was bearer of the Legacy of Malberon which charged her body with gralic force. Valera looked like a tall, athletic woman in her middle twenties but she was impervious to nearly all physical harm and was strong enough to throw boulders as sport. She had changed into her bright blue arena unform with its white leather boots and gloves, a wide white mantle across her shoulders bearing three vertical red bars showing her rank.

With her golden hair hanging straight past her shoulders and gleaming in the sunlight, Valera paced the walkway atop the outermost of the three concentric semi-circular walls. Behind her, twenty-five feet below on a paved courtyard, the soldiers of the permanent garrison were hustling about their duties. This stronghold normally housed five hundred soldiers, officers and craftsmen, with an additional eighty farmers and herdsmen who lived in cottages around the fortress.

Directly behind the stronghold, the Bulgane Mountains themselves loomed up more than a thousand feet high. Jagged raw peaks topped sheer cliffs that had never been successfully climbed, the mountains extended for miles in either direction before dropping down to become less imposing terrain. With the mountains as a backing and the rest of the valley all cultivated farmland and grazing fields, the fortress had been planned to offer any attacks no cover. Bulgane had been built during the initial occupation of Evaho by the Melgarin to defend against the native Cojobe.

Valera glanced down at the courtyard behind her where a handful of the Androval officers were conferring with one of her teammates. Josef Jubilec was a Blind Archer of Chujir, the most dreaded counter-assassins in the Midnight War. He was a lean, even gaunt man with short sandy hair and an unreadable poker face that gave away nothing of what he thought. Next to him was a short wheeled cart he had brought with him from the outside world. It held one hundred arrows in vertical slots for instant access, as well as a second yew longbow which matched the one he seldom let be out of reach. Across his back was a Y-shaped leather quiver holding twenty of the steel-tipped arrows. Seeing how well-prepared he was reassured Valera. She knew and respected his capabilities.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a dark figure trotting briskly up the steps from the courtyard. Jeremy Bane was wearing the black KDF field suit with its inner layer of flexible Trom armor. Tucked in the crook of one arm was his visored helmet. Even under peaceful circumstances, his pale eyes were stern but at the moment they were quite intimidating.

"How are you doing, Princess?" he asked.

As the youngest daughter of King Holmir, she was in fact a princess but Valera didn't care much for the title and never insisted on it. "I don't know what's worse," she answered, "if those Ghulgol attack here or if they attack some other realm where we're not present to help fight them."

"I know what you mean," he responded. "Our teams are scattered in the adjacent realms where we think they're most likely to invade. And I've called in as many of our allies as we can find. The Seven Swords are in Colegdar, Tang Ming and Sheng are on alert in Chujir. Megan and Jocelyn are in Signarm, Galvan and Jin went to Zheka. Even Gornak is standing by if we call him."

She glanced back around the courtyard. "Where's Timothy? I haven't seen him for a while."

"I gave him our travel crystal," said the Dire Wolf. "Tim is hopping from one realm to another to keep everyone up to date. I really wish there was a way to communicate between realms but there isn't. In most of the realms, modern technology won't function at all or I would have brought a truckload of assault rifles and grenades here. Not even a flashlight will work in Evaho."

Valera abruptly straightened and stabbed a finger out toward the north. "Horsemen! Looks like at least a dozen! They're Melgarin! They're my people!"

As Bane leaned forward to see for himself, Valera leaped down from the wall. She dropped twenty-five feet to land on the flagstone courtyard as casually as if stepping down off the bottom rung of a ladder. The startled garrison offices stared openly. They knew of her abilities but hadn't actually seen her in action before.

The huge front gate was secured by a bolt thicker than a Human body. It took several men pulling on the ropes secured to it to draw the bolt but Valera simply reached up and slid it to one side and then pulled the massive gate inward without seeming effort. Soldiers in their mail coats over leather tunics stopped short, having expected that she would need their help. A minute later, ten Melgarin came through the gate, both riders and horses stricken with arrows standing up from their bodies. One horseman fell from his saddle, dying as he hit the ground. From all directions, soldiers rushed to help.

Being assisted down from his horse, pressing one hand in a vain attempt to stanch the bleeding from his side, General Fanthor yelled, "They're coming! There are thousands of them!" Valera slammed the gate shut and drew the bolt closed without pausing to confirm his words.

Atop the outmost wall, Bane shouted, "There it is! The Yellow Fog!"

( the rest of the story )

"The White Wolves of Zimborlin"

4/22/1987

I.

4/22/1987

I.

Jeremy Bane could not remember the last time he had stepped out into public without the flexible armor under his clothes, without his gun or his gadgets, especially without the silver-bladed daggers strapped to his forearms. He was wearing plain canvas sneakers, denim jeans and a dark green T-shirt , which left him feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed. A six feet tall mass of highly defined lean muscle, Bane was a few months shy of turning thirty but he seemed younger somehow in his discomfort. He stood outside the front door of the Hawk Island complex and felt a brisk April breeze drift in off the Atlantic. They were only ten few miles off the coast of northern Maine.

Looking over the assemblage of twenty Midnight War heroes socializing on the asphalt gathering ground, he did ease up slightly. Surrounded by friends like these could not be anything but reassuring. Two long redwood tables held trays of cheese and fruit and crackers, as well as bottles of sparkling water, soda, even some beer and wine. Long benches and lawn chairs were available but most of the heroes milled about and chatted in small clusters.

The founding members and most associate members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation were there, but so were several colleagues not seen often enough. Samuel Watesa, the greatest Houngan of his era. Mary Cassidy, the Unicorn. Andrew Steel. Bent old Dr Kobal. Cheval. Even the reclusive Dr Matthias Mage had appeared briefly to greet everyone before taking off again. Everyone was catching up on events, reminiscing, discussing current events of the mundane life. A portable sound system was playing old rock songs that almost everyone would like or at least not object to. Bane turned his head and sniffed as a tempting odor reached him. He went back inside the long 0ne-story complex and down the hall to the galley.

This was a brand new display of gleaming stainless steel and dark wood paneling. Both ovens were going full blast, as well as the top burners supporting various pots and pans which steamed and burbled. Unmistakable aromas of roast beef and lamb prompted his stomach to growl. Straightening up as she closed one oven door was a gorgeous blonde woman, six feet tall and fit as any athlete in a brown pullover with a front zipper and tan slacks. Princess Valera of Androval gave him a smile that was like a present. "Captain! Eager to eat, I presume?"

"I have never smelled anything more tempting," he honestly said. "What are those spices though? I can't place them."

"Ah, well-guarded secrets of Melgar cuisine," she teased with her blue eyes gleeful. "One half hour more, Jeremy. The dining table in the next room is not set, but I brought some decent china and cutlery to use for a change."

The Dire Wolf shook his head. "Waiting is sure going to test everyone's discipline."

Over by a prep counter, the newest and youngest KDF member grinned widely. At just eighteen, Tang Ming was a petite girl from Hong Kong whose powers of enhanced awareness and martial skills had qualified her to join. "I am helping too! With my perception, I can tell if anything is about to burn."

"Why, you insolent little thing!" said Valera in mock outrage. "What do you mean, 'if anything is about to burn?' Really. How are those mixed vegetables you were chopping?"

"They will be crisp and delicious," Ming promised. "Particularly the bamboo shoots. I had six brothers and sisters back home and often helped my mother prepare meals."

"Now you are saying I remind you of your mother?! Jeremy, you see what I have to endure?"

"Hee hee hee," was Tang Ming's comment as she went back to work.

Seeing Bane was heading back out of the kitchen, Valera called after him, "Jeremy, this was such a great idea. We all needed this."

"Thanks, Princess," said Bane simply. He went back past the front office and meeting room to step back out into the early afternoon sunlight. The past six months had indeed been grueling for his team. One crisis after another, they had faced their biggest threats in a rapid succession. There had been Arem Kamende's most ambitious scheme. Then clashes with the Preincarnators, then with Those Who Remember and Simon Cohen. Wu Lung's army of the BlackMantis and finally the Ship of Skulls battle with that traumatic exposure to a creature of the Sulla Chun. He had thought even his team was becoming worn down and stressed out. His proposal for a social gathering away from the Midnight War for a day had been met with cheers.

Hurrying to meet him was a blonde carrying an acoustic guitar nearly as large as she was. Her flip-flops making slapping noises, wearing only blue bikini panties and a blue sleeveless tanktop, Cindy Brunner evidently was having trouble catching her breath. She was laughing too much.

Bane watched his lover and partner for the past eight years and waited for her to get a grip. He himself had never displayed a discernable sense of humor but he realized she made up for his lack. In a second, the telepath, "Oh my God. Jeremy! It's too much. The Olur was dancing. You have to see this!"

"Watch him dance?" repeared the Dire Wolf. "Hell, I can hardly look at Dinsdell without losing it."

"Over here. Oh, no, he acting out pantomime now." Cindy seized Bane by one wrist and dragged him over to where most of the assemblage was standing in a rough circle.

( the rest of the story )

"Brightbolt"

12/1/1986

I.

With one red boot on the lowest step, Valera paused. The interior of the abandoned house was lit only by starlight through the uncurtained windows but her eyes had adjusted to the gloom. Chairs and tables were shrouded in dusty sheets, the granite fireplace had been cold for years and the smell of must hung heavy in stagnant air. From the moment she had easily broken the lock on the front door, the Melgar woman had heard nothing... until now.

This was to be her first mission as a KDF Associate Member. Being Princess and third in line to the throne of Androval, it was only her extreme willfulness and determination that had allowed her father to venture to the real world without an escort of guards. King Holmir had told Valera that she had the family's stubborn streak to an extreme degree. But, since she also bore the Legacy of Malberon granting her superhuman strength and near-invulnerabiltity, he grudgingly admitted that she was in less danger seeking adventure than any normal Megar. Joining the KDF meant being sponsored to Tel Shai as a student, and she had long yearned to delve into the secret history only Tel Shai knew.

An inch under six feet tall, slim and athletic, Princess Valera was a gorgeous young woman with bright gold hair reaching past her shoulders and clear blue eyes in a clean-cut face. She was wearing the blue cotton tunic and tights, with red leather boots and gloves and belt, and the wide white mantle around her shoulders bore three vertical red bars. This marked the rank she had earned in the arenas and tournaments. What was it she had heard? The faintest whisper of feet stealing along the bare wooden floor? The soft intake of breath from someone trying to be absolutely stealthy.

"Do not skulk and think to hide from me!" she called out. "Show yourself, I say."

Her answer came in a silky, mocking laugh from the other side of the vast drawing room. There was the scratch of a match being struck and the flame lit four tall candles in a silver candlelabra standing on a burnished pole. The intruder posed for her in the light, bowing slightly and holding up his free hand in a sweeping gesture. "May I presume to introduce myself? Basilor of the Dawn Folk, honored to greet your highness."

The man seemed at first to be a Dartha, with their milk-white skin and fine-textured straight white hair, as well as ears that rose to distinct points. But he was not as delicately built as that dainty Race of sorcerers was. Basilor had broad shoulders and a deep chest, and the black silk shirt bulged with hard muscle. At his left hip was sheathed a slim-bladed dueling sword and he held something wrapped in cloth in his right hand, something straight and tall as he was.

"Dawn Folk," sneered Valera. "A bastard Race founded by Darthan warlocks forcing Human women to bear their whelps. I'd not boast of such lineage if I were you."

Basilor's cat-like green eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Are you Melgarin so very different? Your kind sprang from the union of Humans seduced by the golden glamor of the Eldarin. Indeed, one might say that our peoples are kindred. We Almadim descended from Humans and Darthim, Melgarin descended from Humans and Eldarin."

"You are nothing like my Race," Valera responded, "And if you have come to the world on orders from your vile masters, you will soon realize the gulf between us."

The Dawn Man stepped away from the candles and toward the open space in the middle of the drawing room. He displayed a swagger which infuriated Valera and she struggled to control her famous short temper. Seeing his smug expression made her head swim with anger. "Even the best Almada is no match for any Melgar, and you must know that I carry the Legacy of Malberon."

"Oh, that name again. Truth be told, your highness, Malberon cast many spells and crafted many talismans in his long life. I do not intend to brawl against your unnatural strength when I have THIS."

It was the triumphant emphasis in Basilor's final word which warned Valera to be even more on her guard than she already was. She saw the Dawn Man tug at the concealing cloth and cast it aside to immediately fling a seven foot spear with deadly accuracy. The weapon hurtled at her far faster than merely being thrown by any arm, not matter how strong or how skilled, could explain. Indeed, although Valera could not detect it, the spear accelerated as it neared its target.

Reacting quickly, Valera had stepped to one side and raised an arm defensively. The spear swerved in its trajectory to hit her.

With a sharp cracking impact, the ancient weapon struck her full in the face and Valera stumbled back to fall to a seated position on the cold bare floor. The spear rebounded and whirled back end over end to thump into the open hand of the grinning Basilor. He gave a short triumphant laugh.

Struggling back to her feet, the Melgar champion pressed one hand to her left eye, which hurt worse than anything she had endured in years. Hot blood trickled down beneath her palm. It was the realization she had been wounded which shocked her the most; since the Legacy had manifested itself in her body, Valera had seldom encountered anything that could cut her skin. But then, she recognized the talisman that had struck her down was not common weapon.

"Shai Tazam!" she gasped more in anger than pain. "In the hands of... the Dawn Folk."

"Yes, dear princess. The greatest weapon of the Melgarin, Brightbolt! And it belongs to the hand that wields it best."

( the rest of the story )

"She'd Make the Devil Nervous"

4/28/2015

I.

It was a few minutes before noon when she heard the yelling and crashing from the third floor just above. Haley Lawson was hunched over at the long oak table in the conference room. In front of her was a huge 19th Century tome with tiny cramped lettering, all about how shape-shifters followed different rules and restrictions based more on what they believed to be true than what really bound them. Reading it made her head hurt. This was worse than being back in high school taking World Economics. But being a KDF member meant learning a wide variety of skills, from emergency trauma medicine to flying the CORBY stealthcopter to identifying bite marks from various mythological creatures who turned out to be not so mythical. It was a lot to digest.

After what sounded like furniture being smashed directly overhead, Haley lifted her head and surprisingly grinned. Her best feature was a pair of clear lime-green eyes under chestnut bangs, and her face was at its most appealing when she was smiling widely. The Windcatcher was wearing a plain white T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, being off-duty that day. She pushed her chair back from the table and heard the exchange of a deep thundering voice answering a louder, shriller one.

Demrak Jin and Galvan were fighting. Of course, she thought with perverse satisfaction, she had been expecting the clash. In fact, she was surprised it had taken this long. The Windcatcher got up and went over the door to the hall, peering out cautiously. A second later, she saw the tiny form of the Ulgoran woman racing furiously down the stairs. With her bristling short white hair, Demrak Jin was unmistakeable even at a glance. She was leaping down the stairs at a reckless pace.

Haley stepped out into the hallway, uncertain if she should ask what was going on or just keep out of the way. As she leaned over the bannister and looked down at the first floor below them, a huge dark form hurtled past her to land with a solid thump in the front hall. Galvan had simply jumped down from the third floor to the first, bypassing the stairs and absorbing the impact with his immense leg muscles. Even after the past few months of seeing him every day, Haley still stared at the giant Melgar. Wearing only a pair of khaki pants, his upper body was an amazing V-shaped wedge of broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, covered with hard well-defined muscles. She had never seen anyone built like that in real life.

Galvan landed just behind Demrak Jin. The Gelydra spun quickly, crouching with fists raised in comical defiance of a man who stood more than a foot taller and who weighed more than twice as much as she did. Jin had on her tunic and pants of grey sharkhide, worn with the rough denticle side out to abrade opponents, but the bone-bladed knife was not strapped across her narrow back for once. Despite the difference in their sizes, there was something elemental and savage about the Gelydra that made her seem threatening even to a huge brute like Galvan.

Galvan's broad, bearded face seemed obviously worried. He held up both open hands in a placating gesture. "Calm yourself, little shark. We both knew that this day would come...."

"Your words are not to be trusted!" Demrak Jin snarled. She took a menacing step toward the big Galvan and he actually backed up. "Shall you rip out my very heart and toss it aside and live to boast of the deed?"

Watching from the landing above, Haley muttered to herself, "Oh, this is gonna be juicy."

Galvan was tanned and handsome in a gruff lumberjack way, with thick curly hair that matched his beard. When he smiled in an attempt at being disarming, perfect teeth gleamed white as chalk. "Jin, Jin. We did talk of this. Our time together was great pleasure for both of us, but every season passes in its due.."

"I will hear no more!" The Gelydra dove forward in a blur of motion, bringing her right fist down almost by her knee and swinging it up in a vicious hook that smacked exactly on the side of Galvan's face. The Melgar did not even flinch at that blow but Jin fell back with a gasp. She gripped her right hand with her left and moved back a few steps.

"I hope you haven't hurt your hand," Galvan began. "You should know better than to strike me, little shark."

"A broken fist is naught compared to a broken heart!" Demrak Jin screamed. "I never thought I'd give myself to... to a Melgar!" And with that she whirled on one foot and raced out the front door to East 38th Street.

After the door slammed shut, Galvan stood motionless in the front hall. His shoulders lowered and he let out a sigh from deep within the huge chest. Coming down the stairs behind him, Haley cleared her throat.

"I couldn't help but hear that," she said. "Jin has always had a temper. I've seen her blow up like that over food being burnt in a restaurant."

The Melgar champion slowly turned to face Windcather. "The Melgarin have a saying, 'she'd make the Devil nervous.' Ah, so it goes. Perhaps I should not stay here any longer. There will always be friction and bad feelings between her and I. Too bad, as I have greatly enjoyed my adventures with your team and we two have not even teamed up."

Haley Lawson waggled a finger at him. "Just don't get any thoughts about landing ME in bed next. You've already tagged Jocelyn and Jin. Do you have a checklist or something?"

There was genuine hurt in the deepset brown eyes. "Oh, Haley, you misunderstand. Women have always been drawn to me and I to them. Like wine and song and tales of brave deeds, the company of women is a great joy in life. I do not seek it out. But I accept it when it comes to me."

"Get a shirt on, and we can talk on equal terms. You're too distracting with those muscles hanging out all over," she answered. "I suppose now we will have to wait for Jin to come back once she calms down."

He started up the stairs toward his guest room on the third floor. "And I expect Sable will have much to say about this when she returns later. More worries."

( the rest of the story )

"Beneath the Cities of Men"

11/16-11/17/2007

I.

Two women stepped out an alley in a bad part of town. Zarithen was well into middle age, a bit bent, a bit grey. She wore loose pants and long-sleeved blouse of tan cloth, with a wide-brimmed hat. Over one shoulder was slung a small knapsack and a leather purse was tied to her waist sash. Few observers would have noticed her, though, simply because she was standing next to Valera.

Her bright blue uniform of snug tunic and pants, with its white trim and red boots was striking in itself but Valera would have caught the eye no matter what she wore. The Melgar princess was tall, just under six feet, and slim but athletic in build. She had rich yellow hair loose around her shoulders, and sky-blue eyes in a beautiful face. Valera carried a large trunk in one hand and a duffel bag in the other, and strapped across her back was a leather sheath holding something longer than she was tall. As they stepped from the alley into the morning sunlight, Valera flashed her dazzling smile at her companion.

"Welcome to the Human world," she said. "You have not been here before, my dear, it is larger than all the adjacent realms combined."

Zarithen took a good look before answering. "Busy it is, and noisy. You told me of these carriages that roll without horses to pull them. And you told me I would see Humans of every color and size, so these do not surprise me. But why do these folk hurry so?"

"It is their nature," Valera answered. "Come. Follow me."

"Yes, princess." Zarithen tagged along behind the boldly striding Valera as they walked east along 34th Street. They paused before the Hotel Lanchester, a modest establishment that stood opposite the Empire State Building. "This will do," Valera decided, marching through the double glass doors and across a lobby of white tile and marble. At the desk, a smiling young man greeted them, eyeing Valera with appreciation he could not quite hide.

"We shall need rooms for a few days. Say, one week." Valera put down the trunk she was carrying and reached inside her leather belt to take out a small billfold. In it was an American Express Card and driver's license made to "Valerie Androval." She had been in the world often before and came prepared. Also in that billfold was five hundred dollars in fifties and twenties, a Visa card and an ID for an account at the Chase Manhattan bank.

As a bellboy hurried up to help, he grunted in surprise at how heavy the trunk was that Valera had been carrying with one hand. She let him struggle with it. It was best not to give away just how powerful she really was. They made their way to the bank of elevators, rode up to the 18th floor and were shown into a luxurious suite with tall windows that let in the morning light. Valera thanked the boy and gave him a tip, while Zarithen looked over the rooms.

"This is suitable for one of your station, princess," she conceded almost grudgingly.

Valera smiled and wandered about. "Ah, I have camped in deserts and jungles and barren mountains in my day. Many a night I had no blanket to pull over me and my forearm was my pillow." She showed her old nurse the bathroom and demonstrated how the toilet and shower worked.

"I am impressed with Human ingenuity," Zarithen said, almost to herself. "But I do wonder why we do not bring such devices to our own realm."

"It is not the Melgar way. To be frank, we are slow to change our customs and we have not changed much since the Darthan Age." Valera picked up the remote and turned on the TV to CNN. As Zarithen stared hypnotized at the screen, Valera put away their luggage. She glanced over and smiled at her nurse watching the dancing candy bars during a commercial.

"Zarithen!" Valera said sharply. "These are my words. You are not to leave these room except in extreme emergency such as fire. Do you hear and obey?"

The older Melgar bowed her head. "Yes, my princess."

"Here in this mechanical icebox I have placed fruit, bread and cheese. This is dried meat and here are bottles of wine. The water from this sink is fit to drink. I do not plan to be gone long but if I am, pick up this instrument" and here she demonstrated with the phone by the bed, "and ask for 'room service.' Order what food you want, it will be charged. Do you understand?"

"I do, princess. But may I not go with you?"

"No. I want you here. I may call this phone if I have instructions or if I need help. It is important that you stand by and do your part." Valera's tone softened. "I count on you as I always have, my friend and comrade."

Zarithen bowed low and went to sit on the low couch, Despite herself, her eyes went to the TV which now showed a singing couple in front of three judges. Valera smiled, and took a white topcoat from her baggage. Removing the scabbard from her back, she put on the coat and strapped the seven foot sheath over one shoulder again. Long years of practice let her move about without awkwardness from the weapon she carried always. Valera tied her long blonde hair in a ponytail with a twist of blue silk, patted her pockets and glanced in the mirror. At the door, she waved to Zarithen and went out toward the elevator.

Out on the street, the Melgar woman got her bearings and headed east. She did not feel out of place anymore, having traveled in the real world in her time, and she strode confidently toward Third Avenue, then swung left up to 44th Street. Here was the building she had been told to find. It was only four stories high, of yellow brick, with a sign on a stand listing the businesses within. Between "EMERGENCY ONE- WALK-IN CLINIC" and "SPA HIGHLAND" was "DIRE WOLF AGENCY." Valera nodded and headed toward the glass doors but hesitated. Long decades of adventure had given her a sense when things were amiss. She walked past the building and peered into the narrow alley between it and the next, taller structure.

There was the man she had come to see, his arms raised as he faced three men with guns in their hands.

( the rest of the story )