"Kurar Remiant Alexander Ashton," said Norar Remontar, stepping to my side. "Allow me to present Tulia Maximinos. It is a shame we didn't meet you sooner, Tulia. Now we must leave for the ship."

"Too bad," she said, with a predatory look in her eye.

Norar Remontar hurried me from the room, Malagor trailing behind us. We made our way up to his apartment to gather our gear. A short time later, we were aboard the great Amatharian Battle cruiser. Chapter Eighteen: Toward the Zoasians

In many ways, life aboard the great Amatharian battle cruiser was much easier for me than it had been in the city. The ship operated on a fixed schedule based on its own version of the city-cycle, which was recalibrated each time the ship docked in Amathar. Each person on board was assigned a duty and worked three cycles, followed by six cycles off duty. I knew absolutely nothing about the ship or its procedures, so initially I was assigned to the security detail. Since I was a knight, I was given what was essentially an officer's rank--command of ten swordsmen, each of whom commanded eight to ten warriors.

Amatharian ships didn't have names, though they did sport numbers. The battle cruisers were essentially all of the same class, though they had minor differences, and some were newer than others. Their importance was based entirely upon who commanded them, and what mission they were on. This ship was Sun Battle cruiser 11, and it was the flagship of Norar Remontar's twelve ship squadron, one of four squadrons making the assault on Zonamis. Like the other ships, this one was painted navy blue with silver trim. Like the other three flagships of the fleet, this one had a great crest across the bow--in this case, a flaming sun with outstretched wings. And like all Amatharian ships, this one was arrayed with the banners of her knights. When I first saw my own banner, with a flaming sun embossed by the letter "A", flying among the many others, I was filled with pride. There were more than ten thousand soldiers aboard this one ship, and about one in a hundred were knights.

The accommodations on the vessel were far more spacious than I had expected. Every soldier aboard had his own cabin, and though they were very small in comparison to their homes in Amathar, they were far larger than I had seen on any ocean going vessels of Earth. Each was large enough to have a bunk, which was mounted to the wall rather than sunk into the floor as was the Amatharian fashion, a small table and two chairs and a closet. My own cabin had a large window looking out toward the landscape that rolled continuously past.

Now that we were finally on our way, I spent more and more time thinking of the woman I knew I was in love with, though I had seen her only one time--the Princess of Amathar. Sometimes these thoughts would lead to remembrances of her cousin, Vena Remontar, and the friendship she had shown me. Other times I just fretted over what might have happened to Noriandara Remontar since her abduction by the Zoasians. Even cruising at full speed, it would be a long time before we reached Zonamis, and I worried about all the things which she still might face. I figured our maximum speed to be between two and three hundred miles per hour, and so even accepting the more generous of the two figures, it would be the equivalent of four and a half months before the fleet arrived. It was a long time. I tried to make good use of all the time I had available. I learned to pilot the Amatharian aircraft, both fighters and shuttles. It wasn't as difficult as one might expect. I imagine that any child capable of playing those fast action video games could easily manage it. The controls consisted of a joystick in the left hand to control the steering and a lever for the right hand which controlled lift. There was an automated training simulator on board which I used at first, but after it became apparent to me and to the pilots that I would probably not crash the vehicle, I was allowed to participate in some of the flight drills which were constantly leaving the battle cruiser and returning.

I improved upon my growing skill with the sword, which was in fact my primary duty aboard ship. As the leader of a security team, I did little but see to the watches around the vessel, and drill my troops with the sword and the light rifle. I must say that I had never seen men and women so devoted to duty as those one hundred or so Amatharians under my command. In that entire time, never once was a soldier absent from his duty because of sickness or anything else.

Even with all of the military activity in which I was involved, there was plenty of time for recreation and social activity. The swordsmen and warriors of my company enjoyed playing a kind of catch, in which they used an irregular shaped cloth bag filled with plastic-like beads. Another game involved the skewering of various thrown objects upon a stick as the individual ran through a maze of obstacles. I gathered that this traditional activity once involved the use of swords, but now it was considered a great dishonor to endanger one's sword for a mere game. In addition, I spent a large amount of time in the ship’s prodigious library where I read biographies of interesting Amatharians, novels of several different types, and a book of rather dark and morbid poems penned by Mindana Remontar herself. I was lucky to have my friends present on the same ship. Norar Remontar was of course in command, and though he was busy with his duties far more than I was with mine, we still had time to discuss life, love, and duty over dinner. Malagor occupied the cabin right next door to me. He had been given command of eight warriors, and had been placed in charge of one of the ship's great light guns. Vena Remontar was aboard this ship as well, in command of all the squadrons of fighter aircraft. She seemed more and more beautiful each time I saw her. Tular Maximinos was there too. After passing over the great plain beyond Amathar, our fleet split into its four separate squadrons and moved forward like the four prongs of a very large fork. We crossed over several large mountain ranges and a sea which was about a thousand miles across. Beyond that was an impressive forest, another sea, and still more mountain ranges, until it all became a blur to me. I enjoyed watching the wildlife through a telescope aimed at the ground though there was a large amount of bird life, or perhaps I should say flying life, as well. Once in the distance I spotted something extremely large flying, but by the time I had returned with my telescope, it was gone.

We had been zooming along for several months, by my own private calculations, before we came into contact with anything Zoasian. As we crossed yet one more mountain range, the squadron came under fire from ground-based missiles that proved to have come from automated stations. One of the missiles blew a large hole in the side of one of the other battle cruisers, but the rest of the weapons were destroyed by the ships' guns. The injured ship was left behind to search for and destroy any other automated defenses along the mountains.

I suspected that it would be only a short time until the Zoasians came to see what had happened to their missile sites, and I was right. Shortly after the missile attack, the squadron encountered two Zoasian battle cruisers heading straight toward us. When they saw our eleven ships, they pealed off to the right and tried to run back to their home base. Norar Remontar sent a command by signal light, and three of our cruisers took off in hot pursuit of the enemy. The five ships were only dots on the horizon, when the captains of the Zoasian vessels realized that they wouldn't be able to outrun their foes, and turned to fight. Though the distance was too great to see the details, tremendous explosions among the ships were clearly visible, and we could even hear the sounds of war. But the remainder of our fleet continued on toward Zonamis.

The warriors, swordsmen, and knights of the fleet moved to a state of constant readiness. The shift schedule was changed to two cycles on and one cycle off, so there was always a double shift at ready. Automated missile sites and manned weapons silos firing black energy beams became more and more common. Still the fleet pushed on. At last we crossed one more, great valley and approached Zonamis. It was an incredible city. If I had not been to Amathar, it would have been the largest city that I had ever seen, though Amathar was such that it really deserved a different word entirely. Zonamis was larger than Los Angeles or Mexico City, more than ten thousand square miles of urban buildings, factories, and power stations. It was built on and around an entire mountain range. Much of the central part of the city was carved from the mountain rock itself. I had the impression that installations went deep into the ground.

As soon as we had sighted the city, the city sighted us, and energy beam and missile fire began to shoot out from literally thousands of locations within Zonamis. Fighters began to streak into the sky from the ground and our ships began launching fighters to engage them. Shortly after the fighters began their three dimensional ballet of death in the sky, twenty great black battleships rose up into the air from behind the mountains and prepared to engage us. For the moment we were outnumbered, but I could see two more of our squadrons in the distance approaching at full speed. The challenge had been made and accepted. The battle had begun.

Chapter Nineteen: The Battle for Zonamis

As flame and ordinance shot through the air all around the ship, I gathered my company together on the deck of the vessel, as did the five other security companies on board. Our squadron and the one commanded by Ulla Yerrontis were flying high above the city drawing fire, and engaging the battleships. Vandan Lorrinos was moving his squadron in low and attacking the ground installations with shipboard weapons, as well as landing thousands of Amatharian troops. The final squadron under Reyno Hissendar waited in the rear as reserves.

A huge explosion on a lower deck indicated that the cruiser had been hit by one of the Zoasian missiles, and it brought my mind away from previous plans and into the present. The missile had been fired from one of the battleships, and it moved toward us. Amatharian light guns from the batteries above and below us opened fire on the approaching enemy and explosions ripped across her bow but she still kept coming. For a moment, it looked as though the Zoasian would plow its squared front end into our side, but at the last minute, it pulled up and crossed above us.

Several dozen bombs dropped from the open decks on the lower portion of the black death machine, and ignited all around us, sending flaming metal and Amatharian body parts across the deck. Then two score or more long ropes fell from above, and hundreds of heavily armed and armored Zoasians slid down onto our ship. My team began cutting them down with our light rifles, but for every one we shot from his rope, two more landed on the deck unharmed, and ready to engage us in hand to hand combat. I yelled to my company to attack, and together we rushed forward to meet the Zoasians. I pulled my long sword from his sheath, and as I raised it high above my head, I saw it glow brightly with the power of the soul within. I brought it down upon the first enemy soldier and it left him two smoking halves of his former self.

These black reptilians were slower than we, but they were powerful. One picked up a large piece of jagged metal about ten feet long, which had torn loose in an explosion, and attempted to hit me with it, as though it had been a great bat. I ducked below it and jumped toward him, sword outstretched. For a moment, he looked down at the smoking hole I had left in his chest, and then he toppled over dead. Another security team from the other side of the cruiser arrived to help us repel boarders, and we began pushing the Zoasians toward the rail. A black beam shot past my head, scorching my shoulder. A shot from one of my men blasted through the body of the attacker. I bounded forward to meet another enemy, but there were none left. This group of Zoasians had been repelled.

"Look over there," said Tular Maximinos, suddenly at my shoulder. It was his company who had come to our aid.

I turned to see one of the black Zoasian battleships explode into a huge fireball and fall into the city below, setting off even more explosions. The battle seemed to be going well, and I could see three other enemy ships burning in the sky, as they spun out of control. All of the ships in our squadron were still in the air, though many had taken quite a bit of damage. I imagined that the squadron making the direct assault against the city was incurring even greater losses, but we had our reserves, and we knew what we were after.

Suddenly all the soldiers on deck were knocked from their feet, myself included. I jumped up to see another Zoasian ship grinding along our bow. The two ships had collided in mid-air, and the enemy was sliding down our side. As the black battleship moved closer to where we stood, it began to move away.

"Come on," I shouted to my men, and taking a running leap into the air, I crossed the distance to the reptiles' airship. This wasn't really part of a plan. It just seemed like a good idea at the time to take the battle to the enemy.

Landing on the deck with a thud, I turned around to see how many of my company had made it across with me. About thirty others, including Tular Maximinos, had made it. One young warrior had not been able to make the jump, and was still falling the several thousand feet to the ground below. The remainder of our small battalion had remained behind, being unable to cross the distance before the two ships had moved too far away from each other.

"Where now?" I called to Tular Maximinos, as there seemed to be no Zoasians on deck.

"To the engine room!" he called back, and the two of us rushed toward the back of the ship, followed by thirty or so men and women.

A wide path ran along the side of the vessel between the superstructure and the edge, giving us a metal avenue down the length of the ship. It was good that it was a broad space too, because there was no rail along the side, as there was on Amatharian ships. We had gone down about half the length of the mile long vessel when I heard weapons fire behind me. I turned to see over a hundred Zoasians at the bow of the vessel, where we had just been. They were firing at us, and had already shot two of our team. I sheathed my sword, and whipped out my light pistol. The Amatharians with me did the same, and we soon had the hulking reptiles diving for cover.

"Swordsman," I called to a female Amatharian, "take five warriors and hold this position."

"Yes, knight."

I could see in her face that this young woman knew that she had just been ordered to give her life, but I could also see the fierce determination to complete her orders, and a strong desire to sell her life as dearly as she could.

Tular Maximinos and I led the other soldiers onward. At last we reached the rear of the superstructure, but there seemed to be no opening.

"We need to find a way inside." said the Amatharian knight.

"Well then," I said, putting away my pistol, and whipping out my long sword. "Let's go inside." The blade of my sword began to glow even before my arm started its movement. I swung down to the deck, slicing with my sword, through the metal, like a butcher knife cutting through a soap bubble. With four clean strokes, I cut a large square hole in the deck. Tular Maximinos kicked the newly made door with the heal of his boot, and sent the square of metal flying downward. I whipped out my pistol and jumped into the new hole, landing some ten feet below and rolling to one side. A moment later, Tular Maximinos and the warriors of Amathar were beside me.

We were in a long hallway which seemingly stretched the length of the ship. It was brightly lit with artificial light. There were no Zoasians in sight. With a wave of his hand, Tular Maximinos signaled us to follow him, and we moved silently down the hallway toward the stern of the vessel. At each intersection of the hallway we glanced down the perpendicular shafts, expecting at any moment to be confronted by a large group of heavily armed lizard men. We ran across only one unfortunate Zoasian, whom Tular Maximinos sliced into three separate pieces.

After running literally more than a quarter mile down the hallway, we found ourselves at its end. The hallway opened up to a balcony overlooking a huge room full of machinery a hundred feet below. On the floor far below us, was the apparatus responsible for keeping the ship aloft. It looked something like a great turbine, though its hum was below the sound level of our own voices. Almost immediately, we were spied by one of the enemy crew members on the floor, and seconds later we were engaged in a firefight with a dozen Zoasians below. Seconds later, two of my companions fell, wounds in their backs, and I turned to see a whole army of reptiles running toward us from the hallway we had just exited. I knew that the brave soldiers we had left behind had been overcome. I called out a warning to the others and fired several shots down the hall. But we were caught in a crossfire. A narrow catwalk led to the right or left of the balcony, but with weapons fire from below, and an enemy approaching from behind, it was suicide to attempt it.

"Good luck to you, my friend," said Tular Maximinos, smiling. He then jumped to the top of the balcony railing, and holding his sword straight out, jumped down toward the machinery below. As Tular Maximinos fell, he carved his blade into the great machine. The mechanism began to sputter and spark and shriek loudly. The Amatharian's body continued to fall though, and hit the floor with a horrid crunching sound. I looked down to see him lying on the deck below, his legs a twisted mess of blood and bone. Before I could raise my own weapon in his defense, a nearby Zoasian pointed his ray pistol at the knight’s head and shot him.

Like a streak of lightning, a blazing light bust forth from Tular Maximinos's sword. It danced around the room for a moment, and then blasted through the bodies of every Zoasian in the engine room. Finally it disappeared. Before my eyes had readjusted to the normal light levels, a huge fireball engulfed the room, as the massive machinery that the Amatharian had damaged, exploded.

"Come on!" I called to the brave men and women with me.

No enemy fire assailed us from the engine room, but the Zoasians behind were still coming at us from down the long corridor. I ran across the catwalk leading to the starboard side of the ship, and the Amatharian soldiers followed me. The catwalk ended in a hatchway that led to an interior hallway running forward. We followed this, those in the rearmost constantly engaged in a battle with the Zoasians behind. This hallway led to a staircase leading downward, and I took it. The stairs were odd and difficult to transverse. The were taller and deeper than steps on Earth or in Amathar, and several times, one of the warriors tripped and had to be helped to his feet by his companions. I was able to leap down the stairs relatively easily thanks to my gravity enhanced strength, but once a Zoasian energy beam burned my arm as it passed me. The stairs ended in a hatch leading to an observation deck. We passed through the doorway and closed the hatch behind us. The observation deck was a large square room. With the exception of a four foot walkway around the edge of the room, the floor had been removed, leaving nothing between us and the ground far below but open air. I call it an observation deck, though I am unsure of its actual use. Similar rooms on Amatharian vessels are used to debark troops, or to raise and lower supplies. Suddenly there was a great lurch, and the ship began to drop from the air at a steep angle. Looking down over the precipice, I could see the buildings of the city below coming closer and closer. At the same time I could hear the Zoasian soldiers banging on the hatchway, trying to get in. One of the Amatharians destroyed the opening mechanism with his light rifle.

"That won't keep them out long," observed one of the others, a young woman. As if on cue, the door on the far end of the chamber burst open, and Zoasians began pouring into the room, firing their black ray guns at us. We returned fire, but several more Amatharians met their deaths. No sooner had we engaged this enemy, than the door behind us blew inward with a blast. Now we were confronted by enemies on two sides, and had no cover what-so-ever. I could think of only one thing to do. Calling for my remaining companions to follow me, I jumped off the ledge and into the open air, falling from the bottom of the great Zoasian vessel without the benefit of a parachute. I fully expected to fall to my death, and was surprised when I landed on the top of a tall building which was only about forty feet below the belly of the black battleship. The ship continued on past the rooftop, on a course which only seconds later sent it plowing into another section of the city, creating a huge explosion. I looked around and found that only five others from my ad hoc company were upon the roof with me--one of those lay dead in a broken heap, and another had broken his left leg in the fall.

"Shall I send a signal, knight?" asked the sole female among us. I nodded, and then kneeled down check on the injured soldier. He was conscious, but in shock. The woman fired a small signal flair into the sky, and moments later, one of the many transport aircraft of the Amatharian fleet landed on the roof of the building. Two crewmen jumped out, each wearing the grey bodysuit of a doctor. They rushed to the aid of the injured man. Then we all piled into the aircraft, which jumped back up into the sky.

The transport craft was similar to the one in which Norar Remontar, Malagor, and I had first arrived in Amathar. It was quite spacious, with plenty of room for the two healers on board to begin the work of repairing the extremity of their unfortunate charge, and for the rest of us to sit back and catch our breaths. I took the opportunity to look out the view port and survey the progress of the battle. It seemed that with Zoasian ship which Tular Maximinos had given his life to destroy downed, there were no longer any Zoasian vessels aloft, though a few fighters could be seen here and there trying to evade the victorious Amatharian aircraft. I thought I saw the remains of one Amatharian ship on the ground as well, though most seemed still to be aloft. Seven or eight hovered low over the city, dropping troops to the ground, while a similar number were circling at a distance, dropping bombs upon the all but vanquished reptiles. It didn't take long for our aircraft to reach its ship of origin, Sun Battle cruiser 106. As soon as it had set down on the flight deck, I jumped out and rushed to the bridge of the vessel. This ship was part of Ulla Yerrontis's squadron, and was commanded by her brother Agar Yerrontis. When I stepped onto the deck, the commander nodded to me.

"We are proceeding to the mountain there," he said, without preamble, pointing to one of the mountains which made up the spine of the great city. "We have been informed that it is the location of the Zoasians'

main prisoner detention center. There is a chance that our people are being held there. Report to the assault deck. There is a briefing in progress."

I jogged down to the assault deck, which was in the lower bowels of the ship. I had no problem finding my way, as this ship was quite similar to Sun Battle cruiser 11. The deck had a large open area, where literally hundreds on soldiers were receiving instructions for the assault. I joined the other knights in one corner of the bay. Plans of the prison installation were laid out on a table, and the officers were dividing up the assault duties.

"You will take this entrance," said the officer in charge of the operation, pointing out a symbol in a spot on the map, which I would have called the southeast side, had there been any true directions in Ecos.

"Follow the tunnels as far as possible. If our people are there, we want them found."

"I understand," I replied, and I did understand, for the woman of my dreams might be somewhere below that mountain.

It seemed to me that no more had I spoke those two simple words, than the great doors in the floor of the assault deck opened up, and dozens of long ropes were dropped from the bottom of the Amatharian battle cruiser. Each Amatharian soldier was given a repelling clip, which he attached to his utility belt, and then clipped onto the rope. He or she then slid down to the assault. The one hundred soldiers in my new command were assigned a position fairly far back in the attack order, but at last, we hitched our repelling clips to the ropes and dropped down to the alien city below. Chapter Twenty: Beneath Zonamis

Sliding down a three thousand foot long rope from a point in midair provides a rush that I am sure only skydivers could appreciate. Add to that, the pleasant sensation of being shot at, and the net effect is a feeling that even the largest of roller coasters could not inspire. It was a feeling however, that several thousand Amatharian soldiers were able to share with me, for that number of men and women were sliding down the ropes from the cruiser to assault the mountain prison of the Zoasians. As soon as my boots hit the ground, I gathered my company of one hundred warriors and swordsmen together, and gave the orders to move toward our target. We covered the ground toward our assigned entrance, all around us, the smell of smoke and the sounds of bombing in the distance. We encountered no resistance until we reached the installations entrance, which was a great iron door. Part of my team was a pair of demolitions soldiers, who carried all they needed to penetrate the site. With several quite tiny explosive charges, they cut a rectangular opening through the door, which allowed us all to enter. As soon as we moved into the dark hallway beyond the portal, we were set upon by a group of twenty or so Zoasians whose duty it was to protect the hallway. Though they shot down two of my soldiers and delayed us slightly, we quickly overpowered them and continued on our way. The interior of the installation was a great dark maze of wide but low corridors, with small rooms and vestibules scattered here and there. The lighting was poor, probably owing to a destroyed generator nearby. Though we encountered numerous reptile men, most save those we had initially encountered, were in no mood to fight, instead intent on escaping the invading force.

We seemed to have gone through so much of the supposed prison, without seeing a single prisoner of any sort, or indeed of any barred cell or room, that I was beginning to suspect that the Amatharian commanders had been misled as to the nature of the place, when suddenly we came upon a barred door. Once the demolitions team eliminated the obstacle as easily as they had done before, we found ourselves in a great room.

The room was of brobdingnagian proportions, as large as any warehouse which I have ever seen. It resembled a zoo more than a prison or a jailhouse, for rather than cells placed into the walls, the room was filled with cages, each about twenty feet square and separated from one another by eight or ten foot walkways criss-crossing between them. The prisoners of this zoo had no shred of privacy, for their every action was visible from all four sides by their fellow inmates, as well as anyone who happened to be walking by their cell.

The place was like a zoo in another respect as well. Every occupied cell, and it seemed that very few were unoccupied, was the unhappy home to one of a huge variety of creatures. I was able to spot a few which housed beings of the same type, but there seemed to be scores of different species represented.

"Are these all sentient species?" I asked the swordsman at my elbow.

"I'm unfamiliar with most of these beings," she replied, "but of the ones I do know, they are all intelligent peoples."

"Break up the company into squads," I ordered. "I want all of these cages opened, and the prisoners set free." The word "squad" is something of a loose translation on my part, just as is the word "company", but they seem the closest I can come to the Amatharian terms. An Amatharian squad designates a group of eight or ten warriors led by a swordsman, and a company is nine or ten such squads led by a knight. The prison was of such great size, that it seemed hours before even ten squads of Amatharian soldiers were able to open all the pens. Many of the alien prisoners made a hasty retreat, glad for the chance to escape their confinement. A few stayed in their cells, apparently unable to accept the fact that they were now free. Some, particularly those who had previous contact with Amatharians, and who knew the Amatharian language, chose to follow our company. Finally, among the prisoners were two Amatharians, a man and a woman, who were brought to me.

"What are your names, and how did you come to be prisoners of the Zoasians?" I asked them. They looked at me inquiringly for a moment, obviously never having seen an Amatharian of my complexion before, and then described their ordeal. They had been part of a mapping expedition and had been captured by the snake men. They were not part of the company we were attempting to rescue. The man introduced himself as Senjar Orsovan of the Earth Clan, and then introduced the woman, who seemed incapable of speech, as his sister Shenee Orsovan. The two of them were the sad specimens, obviously the victims of mistreatment by the Zoasians, and seemed even worse than they probably were because until now every Amatharian I had seen was in the keenest physical condition.

"We heard something of other Amatharians brought here," said Senjar Orsovan, "but I should not hold out too much hope of them living. The Zoasians do not recognize any other beings as deserving life or of having intelligence. We would have been killed long ago if not for the fact that the monsters wished to study us. Even so, they treated us... very badly."

For a normally stoic Amatharian to make such an admission was indicative that their treatment had been very bad indeed. I could see jaws set and eyes narrow in anger among my soldiers who had gathered to hear the tale of the unfortunate fellow.

I had paused for a moment in my interview with the man, when I looked at the small crowd of aliens that had gathered just beyond. For a moment, I thought I recognized Malagor standing among them, until I realized that there were three beings who looked just alike, and who resembled my friend. I moved through the soldiers and others to stand before them.

"You are Malagor?" I asked, as an introduction.

Two of the beasts looked blankly at me, but the third growled out in the language of the Malagor. It became apparent that while he was able to understand Amatharian, he was unable to speak it. I gave up any hope of gathering any useful information from them, and ordered a squad of my soldiers to escort all of the aliens, as well as the two Amatharian former prisoners back to the ship. As they were freeing the inmates of the prison, the Amatharian soldiers had been scouting the great hall, and they reported three exits opposite of our entrance. Although I was at loath to split my meager force, now only about eighty, into three parts, I could see no other way of covering all the possibilities. I split the company in thirds, and assigned two to my most capable swordsmen to a third part each. I led my remaining three squads through the center most exit. It was, like much of the installation, a low and wide corridor, relatively well lit. I could only guess what the destination of this passage might be, since Zoasian installations seemed to be far less organized than the typical Amatharian facility. This hallway went straight back away from the "zoo" without any side passages or rooms. It finally ended in a poorly lit stairway which wound its way down to some undetermined lower level. We started downwards. The steps and the walls around us were uniformly white, and made of some concrete-like material. I imagined that it had been designed by an architect who received a straight C average in college--dull and monotonous to such a degree that it quickly became impossible to tell whether we had gone down five flights of steps or fifty.

Our next encounter with the enemy came when we reached the bottom of the staircase. We surprised a group of six Zoasian who were carrying what looked like large plastic tubs. Though I would just as soon have captured them as killed them, the snake men gave us no choice, and even though they found themselves surprised and outnumbered, they still attempted to fight back, dropping their burdens on the floor and retrieving pistols from their holsters. In scant seconds, each of the Zoasians lay dead with a smoking hole through his chest.

The contents of the tubs the Zoasians had been holding were now dumped across the floor, and what was left lying there would have turned the stomach of the staunchest war veteran. The containers had been filled with a dark blue solution with a sort of foamy, sudsy quality to it, and immersed in this solution was an ungodly assortment of severed arms, legs, and even heads of Amatharian people--people that but for their strange dark blue color, were humans just like me. The Amatharians were as stunned as I was, perhaps even more so, but after a moment, they forced themselves to examine the remains-something I could not bring myself to do. None of the bodies was identified by name, though it was determined that the litter contained parts of sixteen different people. The room where this grizzly discovery was made appeared to be a sort of waiting area for a number of surrounding laboratories, all of which could be see through open doorways on either side of us. My order that each of these rooms be checked, was quickly carried out, but neither Zoasians, nor the remains of any more Amatharians were found. We continued on our way, and discovered still more laboratories beyond. The entire floor or wing or whatever of the complex seemed devoted to examining the intelligent species of Ecos, and it was apparent that the Zoasians felt no need to receive the permission of any of the individuals involved. In some of the other rooms, we found parts of specimens from many different races. In one room was the entire legless body of a spider-like Pell. In going from room to room, we seemed to have traversed the entire width of the mountain, when we came to one more laboratory room. The scene within made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and this after all the other horrific visions I had witnessed in a very short time. The room was filled with bizarre and ugly machinery, the purpose of which for the most part remained a mystery. Some things unfortunately were less mysterious than simply hideous. In the center of the room stood a man, whom at first glance, seemed to be contemplating the room around him. He was not contemplating anything though. He was dead, and had been preserved by means similar to what is often euphemistically called the taxidermy arts.

"By Amath!" exclaimed the warrior next to me. "That's Ashean Seyeck!" Ashean Seyeck was not the most upsetting thing there however. On a large table to the side of the room was a man--or most of him. He was lying on his back, naked, with his torso almost split in two. He quite resembled the frog that I dissected in seventh grade. Most of his organs seemed to have been removed, and several huge machines were connected to him by forty of fifty tubes, through which passed a variety of liquids. The most horrifying thing of all though, was that he was still alive. He sucked in air and rolled his eyes, as he looked across the room at us. Followed by my two swordsmen, Terril Jennofar and Binsa Sherear, I stepped over to his side.

"Jamern Yerrontis," said the first swordsman. "We are from your second cousin's ship. We have come in rescue."

"I am dead," gasped the man on the table. "Remove these tubes." Terril Jennofar looked at me. I nodded. He grabbed the tubes in both his hands and yanked them from Jamern Yerrontis's body. The poor fellow died immediately.

"I'm not sure what to do now," I said. "I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with the proper disposal of Amatharian dead."

"We no longer pay much attention to burial rites, and a memorial will be held when we return to the city," said Binsa Sherear. "The body is only a shell for the consciousness, after all."

"Still," interjected Terril Jennofar. "No Amatharian likes to see the body of his kinsman desecrated. Each clan has a traditional burial ritual, and this situation cries out for some form of ritual."

"What is the ritual for the Sun Clan?"

"Fire."

I nodded in understanding. It seemed appropriate that these individuals, who'd had their bodies so desecrated, should receive a ritual internment. The bodies of Ashean Seyeck and Jamern Yerrontis were laid side by side on the floor of the room, along with practically every wooden object from this or the surrounding rooms. Terril Jennofar poured a large bottle of the sudsy blue liquid over the pile, and using a small lighter-like device which is part of each Amatharian's tool kit, set the remains ablaze. The funeral pyre was a massive mound of flame in mere seconds, and the surrounding room began to burn almost immediately. I knew that the entire complex would soon be burning, unless the Zoasians possessed better fire control systems than I was used to, and that was quite alright with me. The fact that this insidious installation would no longer be used for its previous function could only be looked upon as a blessing by intelligent beings everywhere.

I rushed on through the installation, leading my company away from the growing fire, and probably toward still more horrors, the variety of which I could only guess. I had in mind that we would exit on the rear of the hollowed out mountain, as the map I had seen on the ship showed a great many openings in that direction. The growing fire and resulting explosions behind us forced me to move along faster than I had expected. We rushed along taking the quickest and easiest route away from the conflagration, and this took us deeper and lower.

We encountered few of the enemy along the way, until we passed through an open entryway into a huge hanger. Perhaps garage would be a better designation for the place, since there were no aircraft here, but rather two tremendously large wheeled vehicles. When I say tremendously large, it isn't just hyperbole--the first transport was fully five hundred feet long, almost half that wide, and at least ten stories high. Its four massive wheels were each more than fifty feet tall. It was shaped something like a crouching animal with a raised snout. The second vehicle was just as long and wide, though not quite as tall. It had a more compact appearance that denoted more endurance and less speed. The second transport had a large door open in the rear and a large group of Zoasian soldiers in black armor were marching a smaller group of Amatharian prisoners into the vehicle. I immediately ordered my men to fan out, seek cover, and attack. We began firing at the enemy and they returned fire and attempted to hustle the prisoners up the loading ramp even more quickly. For their part though, the prisoners began to fight back, even though every one of them was manacled with some strange constraining device around his hands, and good old-fashioned chains around their feet. I saw one of the prisoners swing her cuffed hands at a Zoasian, and for one brief moment I beheld the face that I had for so long been waiting to see--an almost carbon copy of Vena Remontar. The snake-man she had attacked backhanded her and knocked her completely into the transport. I raised my light pistol and cut a smoking hole through his head.

Zoasians from around the massive hanger took up firing positions to counter our attack, and a tremendous firefight commenced. Several large guns on the taller of the two vehicles began firing, apparently not at all concerned at the damage to our surroundings. We were outnumbered at least four to one, not counting those large weapons, and there was little doubt that we would soon be wiped out if we stayed where we were. I shouted the only command that an Amatharian leader could make, under the circumstances.

"Charge!"

Rushing forward, I moved my pistol from my right to my left hand and drew my long sword. The entire company was right behind me. It was a glorious feeling, rushing toward the enemy with weapons firing all around. Of course the danger was quite real but it seemed at the time as though I couldn't be stopped, I was on the quest of a lifetime from which I could not be deterred.

At the same time, the Zoasians herding the prisoners onto the transport began to shove and kick their helpless charges. Some of the captive Amatharians fought back, and were shot down; others were knocked unconscious and were tossed into the great truck. Then the huge ramp-like door began to close, and the vehicle began to roll toward the hanger door which was slowly rolling upward. By the time that my men and I had crossed the hanger the Zoasian vehicle had rolled out through a great door into the eternal Ecosian day. There was no way that I could follow on foot, so leading my men, I ran up the ramp into the other mechanical monster. Once we were all inside, Terril Jennofar slammed his hand down on a panel, and the vehicle's hatch began to close. I made my way toward the forward compartment, and took a seat behind the control panel. It was not all that different from sitting behind the control panel of a helicopter, or perhaps more like the controls of a semi-truck, since there was a wheel, though it was way too far away from the seat for my taste.

Not being at all concerned with the state of Zoasian automotive technology at the time, I simply grabbed the wheel, and started throwing switches until the great monster began to roll forward. The cab had just exited the doorway into the sunlit outside when Terril Jennofar kneeled down beside me.

"All the Zoasians on this vehicle have been eliminated," he said.

"How many of us are aboard?" I asked.

"Eight, counting the two of us."

"Is that enough to operate this thing?"

"It really doesn't take that much. The Zoasians are surprisingly good at automation. We need only the driver, and perhaps a gunner or two."

"Good," I replied. "We need a gunner to stop the other vehicle. "Noriandara Remontar is aboard it." His eyes widened for a moment, and then he nodded and headed back.

The other vehicle was easily followed. It was not a matter of using a trail. The truck could be easily seen at all times just ahead of us. The difficulty was negotiating the smoking, burning, and occasionally exploding debris in the ruined path that had apparently been built just for these tremendous vehicles. The battle was over for the most part, but a few bombs still fell from the sky, a few missiles still flew overhead, and a few stray shots of energy weaponry buzzed in the air. It was far easier to dodge any ordinance though, than it was to dodge around collapsed buildings and fleeing pedestrians. Even though they were Zoasians, and technically enemies, I didn't feel right about just running over what appeared to be a civilian. A couple of Zoasians stepped out with ray guns aimed in my direction. Those, I ran over. Just about the time that I was really starting to get the hang of steering the monstrous device, we left the edge of the city and began crossing the desert that faced the far side of Zonamis. Chapter Twenty One: In Pursuit

The two Zoasian vehicles rushed across the sandy expanse of the Ecosian desert. At times, I was sure that I was gaining on the other transport, but then at other times there seemed to be a widening of the space between us. One thing was for sure. The Zoasian in control of the first craft was a far better driver than I was. I was continually flying out of my seat as I bumped over some obstacle, and I am sure that my Amatharian passengers were similarly troubled.

At that moment a missile fired from some section of my vehicle below me. Evidently Terril Jennofar had found a gunner, or was manning a missile station himself. The projectile impacted just to the left of the fleeing vehicle. Seconds later a second missile shot forth, and this one was better aimed than the first. It hit the right rear wheel of the fleeing vehicle. For a moment it looked as though there would be a great crash, but the Zoasian driver regained control of the now smoking, crippled truck and continued on, albeit at a slower pace. I was sure now that we would be able to catch it. Just then a massive explosion from below racked my own vehicle. I was lifted completely out of the driver's seat, and hurled across the compartment, as the car turned first left and then right, and then began to flip over wildly. The cabin spun around and around, and my head was dashed against some piece of equipment, sending me into the darkness of unconsciousness.

When I came too, I was lying in the sand beside the great mass of bent metal that had once been the great Zoasian vehicle. A good half pound of sand was glued to the side of my face by a mass of dried blood, and my left arm was bent backwards at the wrist, obviously broken. I pulled my tabard off and using my knife and my one good arm, cut several strips from it. I wiped the mess from my face as best I could with the rest, and then discarded it, keeping only the tiny ornament that Nona Montendro had given me to wear. I straightened out my arm with a great deal of pain and effort, and finding a straight piece of metal from the wreck and the cloth strips, splinted it. I then determined to set the break. I grabbed hold of a bar on the main part of the wreck with my left hand and leaned my body back as hard as I could. As blinding pain shot from my arm to my brain, I once again lost consciousness.

I don't think that I was unconscious very long. When I woke up, I was dismayed to find that my arm was still not set. I set about trying the same procedure again. I was rewarded with two barely audible snaps, as my bones found their proper locations. Though I didn't lose consciousness this second time, I was forced to lie back on the sand for several minutes trying to inhale and recover my wits. Once my arm was stabilized, I began to look around for any other survivors of the wreck. I found two of my companions lying in the sand and another partially buried in the wreckage. All were dead. Near the rear of the mess was the body of Terril Jennofar. He was mangled almost beyond recognition, and yet when I approached, he opened his eyes and looked at me.

"I am sorry,” he said. "It is my fault. I accidentally ignited the missile, as I was attempting to load it."

"It's not your fault,” I said. "I will report you well."

"Rescue her..." Then he was dead.

I was once again all alone on the planet Ecos, but I knew where my duty lay. The path of the other vehicle through the sand was plainly visible, so I set off after it. It was tough going through the desert, as the sand was soft, which made walking a chore. It was not as hot though, as one might have anticipated from such a locale. It was a pleasant seventy five degrees, or there about, and had the situation been different, it might have made for a pleasant hike.

It didn't seem as though I had walked all that far, when I came over a rise in the ground to look on the wreckage of the second truck. It seemed that the damaged wheel had finally fallen off, and the driver had been unable to keep the vehicle from rolling over on its side. There seemed to be a relatively small amount of damage--certainly nothing to warrant the array of bodies , both Amatharian and Zoasian, strewn across the desert floor.

I drew my sword and carefully approached, but there seemed to be no one left alive. Happily, the Princess was nowhere to be seen. So where was she, and were there any others missing? I began to look around to see if I could find any clues on the subject, when I came across the body of an Amatharian woman. She was dead, face down in the sand, but before she had died, she had scrawled something in the sand. It was "UURSH POCH."

I had no idea what Uursh Poch might mean, though it was written using Amatharian letters. Very near to the body of the woman though, I noticed strange tracks that seemed to lead away from the crash site. The tracks were about two inches across, and were round and deep. It was as though an army of pogo sticks had marched through this region. As I started off once again, I began to wonder just how many trails I would be forced to follow on my quest.

This trail was as easy to follow, if not easier, than the vehicle tracks, had been. The pogo sticks began to group together after awhile so that they formed a road of holes about ten or twelve feet wide. It went straight through the desert, and did not veer around plants or large rocks, but went right over them. It went up and down the banks of dry river beds, and across ranges of small hills. I followed along for what seemed like days. Still, the eternal Ecosian sun stayed high above my head. The Swiss cheese trail finally led across a stream bed which was not dry. It was no raging torrent either. There was a small trickle of a stream, maybe a foot wide and two inches deep winding its way through the forty foot wide stream bed. Here and there were pools of stagnant water and a few stunted trees. I lay down on my stomach and looked into the tiny streamlet. There were patches of moss growing on the submerged pebbles, and a few tiny fish-like critters swam away from me, so I decided that the water was at least not poisonous, and taking a great gulp, I found it very tasty. I first filled my canteen, really nothing but a small flask which fit into my belt case, and then I filled my stomach with the cool, refreshing liquid. It was then that I noticed a reddish cloud spreading in the water, and remembered the bloody mess still on my face. Using a handful of wet sand as a cleanser, I washed the caked and matted hemoglobin from my face and hair.

Once my thirst had been slaked, I realized that I was in need of rest. I had been on the go for some time, and the effect of my injuries was to add to my weariness. I crawled over to the closest of the short, bent, ugly trees, and lying beneath it, went to sleep. When I woke up, for a moment, I didn't realize where I was. The curious thing was, that I did not imagine myself back on earth, but in my dreaming state had expected to wake and find myself in Amathar.

I opened my eyes to gaze into the three large eyes and seven small eyes of a large arachnoid. For a moment I thought I was once again a captive of the Pell, but this was just a small predator that had stopped to see if I were alive or food. He was about twice the size of my hand, and when I sat up, he scurried along on his way. Before I stood, I took stock of my injuries, to make sure that any wounds left unattended would not hamper my mission. With the exception of the head injury, now no longer bleeding, and the broken arm, which was beginning to throb like nobody's business, I was unharmed. I stood up and continued on.

A slight breeze seemed to be whipping up from behind me, and I began to worry that the pogo stick trail would be obscured by blowing sand. I reasoned though that I had some time before that occurred, as the holes were five or six inches deep. I needn't have worried anyway, as the breeze died down before I had gone more than ten miles past the little stream.

After another ten miles, I reached a line of strangely jagged rocks protruding from the ground. They were not the kind that I would normally have preferred to climb, even without a broken arm, but as they seemed to go off quite a distance both to my left and my right, I seemed to have little choice. I climbed up to the top of the strange jagged line with great difficulty and came face to face with the strange sight which lay beyond. I quickly dropped down onto my stomach atop the jagged rocks, cutting my knee in the process.

I now knew what made the pogo stick tracks. Below me were eight very strange beings. Each possessed ten long insect-like legs--perhaps mosquito-like would be a better description, for the ten to twelve foot long extremities made these things look quite like mosquitoes. The rest of the creature did not seem at all like an insect however. The bodies were about the size of a man, with a covering of very short grey fur. At the top or front of the body, were two "arms", at the end of which were two eyes, a gaping mouth, and an array of small feelers and tentacles. I surmised and was later proven correct, that though the arms held both eyes and mouths, the brain resided within the body of the beast. I had no doubt that these creatures were the Uursh Poch. I had followed a trail, all too easily identifiable as theirs, from the site of the wreck, and besides, they had prisoners: five Amatharians, and one Zoasian. These six people, for I will include Zoasians within that term though I had learned to consider them enemies, were lying on the ground, their wrists tied with some type of cord. At that moment one of the Uursh Poch grabbed one of the Amatharians, using the tentacles of both arms, then wrapping one of the arms around the hapless victim's torso, freed the other appendage and used the disgusting mouth there to take a huge bite out of the Amatharian's chest. The poor fellow let out a scream and I jumped to my feet.

Unfortunately I couldn't just run forward and attack. The side of the rocks facing the Amatharians and their enemies was just as jagged and sharp as the side which I had climbed. I began to climb down the knife-like obstacles as fast as I could. I did my best to remain as quiet as possible, though I yearned to shout out that I was on my way. I couldn't take the chance of the Uursh Poch attacking me before I reached level ground. Considering their legs, I am sure that they would have had the advantage. About halfway down the rocks, I stopped momentarily to see what was going on below. The poor victim of the Uursh Poch was now halfway devoured, and others of the bizarre, long-legged monsters were starting to do likewise with the other hostages. I redoubled my efforts and quickly reached the bottom of the rocks. I crossed the distance from the base of the ridge to the horrifying scene in several quick bounds.

By this time, the victims had been devoured, with the exception of two--the Zoasian and one last Amatharian. My heart leapt into my throat as I realized that the single remaining Amatharian was Princess Noriandara Remontar. The only thing that had saved her thus far appeared to be an argument between several Uursh Poch as to who was allowed to eat the relatively tender Amatharian, and who would be forced to consume the leathery Zoasian, and who would have to go without anything to eat at all. I was determined that her temporary reprieve should become a full pardon. Reaching the edge of the group before being noticed, I whipped out my now glowing sword, and sliced one of the disgusting arms off of the nearest Uursh Poch. The others turned toward me, and seemed to mass together preparing for an attack. I jumped forward, and then dropped to the ground, rolling toward them like a log, but with my sword stretched out above my head. I plowed through the forest of legs, and then stood up to survey my damage. Two of the creatures had merely been knocked down, but three others had each lost at least one leg to my sword.

Another Uursh Poch jumped at me from the side, and I killed it with a thrust to the center of its vile body. The remaining six creatures, three now injured, began to move away. I jumped once more at them and sent them into full flight. It seemed as though the Uursh Poch were quite cowardly, and I had no doubt that all of their captives had been unconscious when they had first come upon them. With the danger to her life out of the way, I dropped to the Princess's side, and gathered her up in my arms. I carried her to a nearby boulder and sat her up. She was still unconscious. I cut the bonds which were wrapped around her body. Then I chafed her wrists until she started to awaken. I gave her several sips of water from my canteen. She at last opened her eyes, looked at me, and spoke.

"What are you?"

I was momentarily taken aback. This was not exactly what I was expecting to hear as her first words, especially considering the adventures I had survived, the dangers I had faced, and the hardships I had endured in order to rescue her. Then I recalled that she had no reason to know me, and that after all she had been through, she certainly had a right to be suspicious of someone she had never met before, from a race of people, though quite like her own, which was unknown to her.

"My name is Alexander Ashton," I said. "I've come a long way to rescue you."

"What are you?" she repeated, rising slowly to her feet. "You are wearing Amatharian clothing, and you carry Amatharian weaponry, but you are not an Amatharian."

"Oh, yes. I am Kurar Remiant Alexander Ashton of the Sun Clan"

"You have made a mistake now, alien," she jumped back. "I am of the Sun Clan and I do not know you."

"Look,” I said, now feeling quite indignant. "I just saved your life. Those Uursh Poch things were going to eat you, just like they did your companions."

She looked over at the scene of death, but seemed unconvinced.

"I have a remiant's sword," I continued, drawing my sword and cleaving the air. The sword did not glow, or evidence any sign of the soul living within. There was no enemy threat nearby.

"How did you come to be here?" she asked, cautiously.

"I came in the attack against Zonamis...with your brother's fleet."

"Norar Remontar is alive?" she stepped forward.

"Yes. At least he was when I saw him before the attack. He arranged the mission to rescue you and the others. He and the others--your grandfather Nevin Lorrinos, Reyno Hissendar, and Agar Yerrontis."

"Well you do know a lot of Amatharian names," she still sounded unconvinced.

"I will gladly mention others to you," I said. "I will tell you how I have stayed with your brother in his home, how I was adopted into the Sun Clan by your grandfather, how I was tutored in reading and writing by Nicohl Messonar, and of my friendships with Bentar Hissendar and Vena Remontar. But first, I must figure out what to do with this Zoasian."

The Zoasian, who was fully conscious and may have been for some time, was looking toward me. As if noticing my attention was now directed at him, the Zoasian opened his mouth and hissed at me. I walked over to him and looked down. The Princess followed and stood beside me.

"Leave him here,” she said. "It is not honorable to kill an enemy that is tied up."

"I certainly would not have done that."

I pulled out my sword and held it out. The blade still did not glow. Reaching down with its tip, I cut through the bonds that held the Zoasian fast. The snake-man rose cautiously to my feet. Curiously, my sword still refused to glow. I took this as a clear sign and pointed to the distance with my splinted left arm. The reptile looked at me with his yellow eyes for a moment and then started off away, down the line of great jagged rocks.

Chapter Twenty Two: The Princess

Noriandara Remontar, Princess of the Sun Clan, looked at me with what seemed to be a mixture of disgust and incomprehension. Even so, she was remarkably beautiful, with the same sharp features and dark blue skin that her cousin Vena Remontar possessed.

"Your friend the Zoasian will probably lay in wait to attack us somewhere along the trail," she said.

"Perhaps," I replied, "but I will not kill a defenseless enemy, and leaving him tied up out here would be just the same as running him through."

"Well, let's be on our way," she said, then pointed in the general direction from which I had come. "My soul calls me from this direction. I have to retrieve my sword."

"Of course," I replied. "Is it at the site of the wreck?"

"Possibly. The Zoasians were not quite sure what to do with our swords. They recognized the connection between the Amatharian and the soul, but were unsure how to deal with it."

"How many of you were taken captive?"

"Three knights, sixteen swordsmen, and eighty two warriors," she replied. "I wonder how many of us survived."

"I am afraid not many."

As we started climbing the rock barrier, I told her of the assault, and the many horrors which I had witnessed in the mountain installation of Zonamis, of the pursuit of herself in the gigantic truck, and the victims at the site of the wreck. By the time we had reached the ground on the other side of the rocks, I had finished my tale.

"Well," said Noriandara Remontar thoughtfully, "at least we can report them to their families." We walked through the desert, which was still relatively cool and pleasant. We didn't follow the exact path that I had taken to find the Princess, following instead the mental message sent by her sword. Nevertheless, after walking for some while, we came to the small streamlet, where I had napped before. We stopped to take a drink, fill my canteen, and rest for a moment.

By this time, the throbbing in my arm was so painful that I thought perhaps I would be unable to bear it. I also suspected that I had an infection, because I felt as though I had a fever. Then I remembered that I had a small packet of medicine in a belt compartment. It was a package of two capsules. I was hopeful that they would bring me some relief, though I didn’t expect too much, as I suspected they were the Amatharian equivalent of aspirin. I popped the pills in my mouth, and swallowed them with a drought from the stream.

"Let's be on our way,” said Noriandara Remontar. "We can rest after we find my sword." We climbed out of the stream bed and continued on our way. As I had suspected, the mental connection between knight and sword led the Princess to the wreck of the Zoasian transport. When the vehicle came within our line of sight, we could see several large figures moving around. They proved to be, when we were close enough to see them clearly, predatory animals, feasting on the remains of the dead. There were four of the animals, picking clean the bones of Amatharian and Zoasian alike. They were about four feet tall, standing on two legs. Though they looked quite bird-like, and had beaked mouths, they were covered not in feathers, but with a wrinkled, leathery hide. They had forearms were only about a foot long, appearing quite useless, but had vestigial leather wings.

"We should be able to scare them off, don't you think?" I asked, now starting to feel much better, but not feeling like a prolonged fight with probably vicious animals.

"First, take a picture,” the Princess advised. "I may well be the first Amatharian to see these beasts"

"We may be the first Amatharians to see these beasts," I corrected.

"That remains to be seen."

I pulled out my camera and snapped a quick image of the desert predators. Then I traded it for my pistol, which I had almost forgotten I still carried. Firing four quick shots, I killed three of the animals, and sent the fourth running for its life. Walking over to the wrecked Zoasian vehicle and sitting down in its shade, I closed my eyes and dozed off.

When I woke up, of course it was still noon as it always was in Ecos, but some clouds had obscured the sun, and the wind was beginning to whip up. Nearby was the body of a Zoasian, with half a dozen large spiders, just like I had seen at the stream bed, feasting upon it. I just sat for a moment watching them. Then Noriandara Remontar stepped up beside me.

"You have been asleep a long time,” she said. "I roasted a piece of one of the animals you shot, but it is not very good."

"I see that you recovered your sword," I said.

"Yes. The Zoasians had it stored in the vehicle. Apparently they were afraid to separate the two of us. I can only imagine where they were planning to take us."

I took the piece of roasted meat that she offered me and took a few bites. It was really not that bad tasting, when compared to the bizarre life-forms that Norar Remontar, Malagor, and I had been forced to eat during our long journey, but compared to the delicious meals I had experienced in Amathar, it was quite grotesque. I set it aside largely uneaten, not because of its poor flavor, but because I did not feel like eating.

"So," said the Princess, "tell me your story."

I narrated the tale of my adventures from the time that I had found myself mysteriously transported to Ecos. I told her of how I had met Malagor and Norar Remontar, and how I had witnessed her battle against the Zoasians, and how I attempted to aid her. I did not relate my emotions toward her at the time. I told her of our journey to Amathar, of my friendship with Vena Remontar, and of my visit to the Garden of Souls where I became a knight.

"I am forced to believe your story," she said, when I had finished. "You know far too much of Amathar to have made it up. Still, it seems so strange to hear of Amathar from one so alien looking." Now I have been told that I am a handsome fellow on more than one occasion. The truth is, that I have never really cared whether I was good-looking or not. A person's nature and actions should be the yardstick by which that person is measured: not how he looks. But I must say that my self-image took quite a blow when Noriandara Remontar deposited the words "alien looking" in my lap. I sat and thought for a moment about the fact that I had made all my judgements of her based upon her looks, just as she was doing to me now. She had to be a fine person--all Amatharians were intelligent and honorable. But, did I... could I be in love with her, having never even spoken to her before.

"We should be on our way," she said, pointing to the mountain range on the horizon. "That is where the Zoasian city is, is it not?

"Yes," I replied, "and the fleet should still be there." We started off toward the Zoasian city, following the tracks in the sand made by the great land roving machine. The wind was whipping up quite a bit of dust by this time, which stuck in my eyes making vision difficult. Several times I tripped on small rocks or plants, because I could not see where I was going. Once I fell right on my left arm and almost passed out from the pain. The wind became worse and worse until we were forced to stop, and climb down into yet another river bed, this one without any water at all in it. After a short while, there was so much sand in the air that the sky took on a strange eeriness. I could look directly at the sun, and were it not for the flying dust, could have done so without injury to my eyes. It was impossible to see beyond the edge of the stream bed. Noriandara Remontar sat down next to me, and taking off her tabard, stretched it over our heads like an impromptu tent to protect us from the storm. Despite all that had happened to her, she still had the confidence, poise, and grace that all Amatharians seemed to possess. Her black eyes held the look of casual unconcern that was the hallmark of her people.

"I have not yet thanked you for rescuing me,” she said. "It is obvious that you went through a great deal of hardships. It is only too bad that you were not able to save the others as well."

"Yes, it is unfortunate," I replied. "But no thanks are necessary, kinsman." At that moment, something heavy and hard struck the side of my head from outside the cloth covering, and everything went black.

"Alexander Ashton, are you conscious?" I opened my eyes to see the face of the Princess looking down at me. "I thought you might be in a coma."

"What happened?"

"Look and see, kinsman."

I tried to sit up, but found it difficult, since both my hands and feet were bound with heavy wire. I managed to look around me, and saw that we were on the floor of a large room. It looked familiar, but for a moment I didn't know how. I realized that this was a Zoasian land vehicle of the same general type which I had so recently driven, just as one of the aforementioned snake-men entered the compartment and pointed a large ray gun at me.

"Go ahead and shoot me, you cold-blooded bastard!" I shouted at the reptile. He just hissed at me uncomprehendingly, and then sat down nearby to guard us.

"It seems your thanks for the rescue were premature,” I told my companion.

"I resigned myself to my own death when I was first captured by the Zoasians,” said Noriandara Remontar. "The situation is no worse now. If anything, we can be happy that we have caused them so much trouble."

"I can't believe that they found us in the middle of that sand storm,” I said, rubbing the painful knot just behind my temple.

"The Zoasians have an extra eyelid which they can close to protect from the elements, and still be able to see,” she explained. "My aunt has made an extensive study of their culture and their physiology, though I dare say, I will be able to write quite a book on the subject myself, if I ever get back to Amathar."

"Yes, I know your aunt."

"She and I were always very close, at least after my mother died. In fact, I am closer to Mindana Remontar than her own daughter is. People always said that we were so much alike. Vena Remontar is much more like her father."

"I hope I get to see Vena Remontar again." I said.

"Why?" Her query caught me off guard. Why did I want to see Vena Remontar again? Because she was a good friend, of course.

"I have to tell her of the death of her betrothed." I said aloud.

"Betrothed? Was it Tular Maximinos"

"Yes," I affirmed. "He was killed in the assault, but brought down a Zoasian battleship almost single-handedly."

"Curious," said the Princess, thoughtfully. "Tular Maximinos had been my cousin's companion for a while before I left, but I never thought they were particularly right for one another." The great Zoasian land rover chose that moment to lurch into motion. The path the driver decided to take was very bumpy. And unlike the Amatharians, who seemed to employ interior decorators in even their most utilitarian war machines, the Zoasians made no effort to make anyone on board comfortable by padding a seat or the floor. The snake-man who was guarding us did not look as though he were particularly relaxed in his seat, and I, sitting on several exposed bolts in a armor plated floor, was certainly not. All in all, it reminded me of a trip I once took in an overcrowded helicopter for the United States Army.

It was a funny thought, but in almost everything except physiology, the Zoasians seemed more like the humans of my home planet than did the Amatharians. They lived in cities the size of New York or Mexico City, and the trash lying in the streets of Zonamis certainly did remind me of home. They seemed to have a military organization similar to armies on earth, and they expanded their territory just as every leader from Sargon of Akkad to Joseph Stalin had done on Earth. True, their science lab was more horrible than anything I would have expected from the U.S. Army, but I could imagine something similar in Nazi Germany.

"I wonder where they have stowed our swords." said Noriandara Remontar.

"I was just wondering the same thing,” I replied. I was too. It was the first thing that any Remiant would wonder. It was something that pushed to the front of one's brain and refused to get out of the way.

"Thankfully the Zoasians usually keep them close to the knight, and seem afraid to damage them." Thinking back to the death of Tular Maximinos and the destruction the soul within his sword inflicted upon the surrounding enemies, I could well imagine what they might be afraid of. Perhaps one of the Zoasian scientist had damaged one in the lab and caused just such a conflagration. Then again, the Zoasians had quite a bit of battlefield experience against Amatharian knights from which to draw. I felt very tired, so placing my shoulder beneath my head; I lay back down and went to sleep. I have had better rests in my time. The bouncing of the vehicle and the hardness of its floor were certainly not conducive to a comfortable rest. Yet the back and forth rocking of the truck and the hum of the loud, by Amatharian standards, engine did somewhat make up for it. While I passed in and out of sleep, I did not return to a full waking state until the land rover slowed to a stop, and I quite frankly have no way to tell how long that might have been.

Once a complete halt had been achieved, the entire rear wall of the great machine opened and formed itself into a ramp. The Zoasian guard, or it might have been a replacement for the first, as I have great difficulty telling them apart, stepped over to me and picking me up, slung me over his shoulder like a sack of whatever the snake men eat instead of potatoes. One of his fellows did the same thing with the Princess. They then unceremoniously deposited us on the ground beside one of the great wheels. Several Zoasians were preparing a camp: laying out sleeping mats, and setting up various pieces of equipment, the uses of which I could only guess at. I estimated that there were twenty to twenty five Zoasians total inside and outside their craft. While I might have been tempted to take them all on with my long sword, I didn't see much hope of engaging them with no weapon at all, and with my hands and feet bound.

One of the snake men tossed two foil pouches onto the ground beside us. I watched several of the reptiles open similar pouches and begin to eat the unidentifiable substances within. It seemed to be some type of freeze-dried food.

"Looks like the MREs we had in the army," I mused.

"What are they?" asked Noriandara Remontar, and don't think this didn't take some explaining, since in Amatharian, the words meals, ready, and eat do not start with letters even similar to M, R, or E. It took cooperation between both of us to open the foil pouches, because of our hands being bound, but at last we freed the block of Styrofoam-like food inside. I took a careful bite from mine and nearly gagged. While it was a dry wafer-like thing just out of the bag, when it combined with saliva or presumably any other liquid, it turned to a slimy ooze with the smell and taste of three week old catfish-and I mean three weeks without refrigerated storage, and dead.

"Try and eat it,” suggested the Princess. "We both need our strength, and we are unlikely to get any better from our captors."

"Yes, of course," I replied, as I forced the vile mess into my throat against its will. We ate and then sat in silence for a long time. Most of the Zoasians lay down on the sleeping mats and seemed to go to sleep. It was difficult to tell their actual state, since they neither snored nor breathed heavily, but they did close their eyes and refrain from movement. I could hear a couple of the snake men moving around inside the truck, but the only one outside who seemed to be awake was the one apparently assigned to guard us, and he never turned away and hardly ever blinked. I remain impressed by the Zoasians' ability to remain completely still, watching something. I tried repeatedly to out stare our guard, but could not do it. He blinked perhaps once every ten minutes, and that was a slow leisurely blink, all the while, the rest of his body remaining completely motionless. I had just resigned myself to being continually watched, when without any apparent motivation, our guard got up and walked into the vehicle.

I was not about to waste any opportunity to escape, and as soon as he was inside, I reached down and began unwinding the wire which bound my feet. I urged Noriandara Remontar to do the same, and she went to work on her own bonds. I had just finished freeing my stiff lower extremities, when I noticed two Zoasian feet standing beside me. The guard had returned. I expected to be hit on the head, something to which I was not looking forward to with any pleasant anticipation. But it did not happen. The Zoasian placed the long box he had brought from the truck, on the ground beside me. Then he reached down, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me to my feet. Then unwrapping the mess of wire, he freed my hands. He then opened the box revealing its contents--our swords, my pistol, and my belt. He pointed to the open box.

I first freed the Princess from her restraints, and then the two of us gathered together our weapons. When I looked at the snake man again, he pointed off to the distance. I realized he was telling us to go. It occurred to me then that this was the same Zoasian that I had freed from the Uursh Poch. He could have been picked up by that transport just before it captured us. I looked into his face to see if I could identify him as the same one, but I could find nothing in his black face and large yellow eyes to help me identify him. We didn't stay around worrying about it, but grabbed our gear, and left the Zoasian encampment at a trot.

Chapter Twenty Three: City in the Sky

Noriandara Remontar and I put as much distance as possible between us and the Zoasians. We didn't stop until we were completely exhausted. Even then, we rested for as short a time as possible, and were on our way again. We journeyed continuously for what seemed to me to be about ten days, though beneath the eternal noon-day sun of Ecos, there is really no way to tell: at least we stopped to sleep about ten times. We had just crossed over a low rise of hills, when I spotted a cave on the face of a small cliff.

"That looks like a good spot to lie low for a while," I said. "I don't think I can continue this pace."

"I can't either," the Princess replied. "It's hunger that is taking toll upon us most." We climbed up to the cave and found it to be nothing more than a scooped out chamber about six feet high, six feet wide, and perhaps nine feet deep into the hill. It was a place of shelter from unpleasant elements and any pursuers however, so we entered, lay down, and rested soundly. I woke up first and looked at Noriandara Remontar. She was incredibly beautiful. Even after all of her ordeals, after wandering in the desert, after battles, captures, and flight, she still looked like the woman I had dreamed of for so long. Something about the Amatharians' hair seemed to keep it looking shiny and clean, when mine felt matted and dirty and in serious need of a shampoo. The deep blue of the Princess’s Amatharian skin precluded any dark circles under her eyes. As I was looking at her, she opened those beautiful round eyes and sat up.

"Why did you follow me all the way to Zonamis?" she asked.

This wasn’t really a conversation that I wanted to have now, if at all. What feelings did I have for this woman? Was I madly in love with her? I had followed her across the face of an alien world and had passed though numerous trials and tempted many perils to bring her within my grasp. Yet now as I looked at her, I didn’t feel.... I didn’t know what I did or didn’t feel. I didn’t know what I should or shouldn’t feel. She was so very attractive, and yet I was not feeling that deep-down sense of need that I had always believed would be there for the woman I loved.

"From the time I first saw you," I answered slowly, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I just had to see that you got back to Amathar safely."

"Were you in love with me?"

"For a moment I thought that I was," I confessed.

"Now?"

"I'm not so sure now."

"I do not know you," she said, looking intently into my face. "This has not been the best circumstances under which to meet someone. Perhaps when we reach home, we can become friends. Just remember. My first duty is to my family and to the Sun Clan."

"As is mine."

We decided to split up and search for food and water and to meet back at the cave. I started down the hill and around to the right, while the Princess went left. I felt somewhat uneasy about letting her off by herself, especially after I had spent such a portion of time as I had, finding her in the first place, but she was a grown woman and a knight of the Sun Clan. She was probably more capable of taking care of herself than I was.

I had my light pistol and had high hopes of finding some type of animal to shoot. I felt if I were able to shoot a creature in the head, then perhaps the remainder of the carcass would not be too damaged to harvest. The light weapons of the Amatharians were not designed for hunting, but for war. It was not quite as bad as duck hunting with a bazooka, but it was certainly close. Unfortunately for me, there seemed to be no animals larger than a good sized beetle around. A beetle about three inches long sat in the shade of a rock, and for a moment I thought about catching him for dinner, but I decided that I was not quite that hungry, yet.

As I was searching around for prey, I spotted in the distance, a gathering of rather large bushes. Observing that the only large plants in this Ecosian desert seemed to grow along the stream beds, I made for the brush in hopes of finding a source of water. As luck would have it, in the center of the bushes was a small fountain bubbling up from between the rocks and forming a small pool covered with moss and insect larvae. I brushed the extraneous matter out of the way and filled my canteen. Then I took a long drink. The water was bitter tasting, but otherwise fine.

What I had taken for bushes around this little oasis, were in fact five thick, but stunted trees. Growing upon them were fruits about the size of a pear, though dark brown in color. I picked one and tasted it. Not only did it taste very bad, it actually burned my mouth. Undaunted by this apparent failure, I cut the fruit in half with my short sword and found in the center, a marble sized seed. Extracting this seed and rinsing it off, I bit into it and found it to be, while very hard, actually quite tasty. I harvested several dozen seeds from the trees, rinsed them off, and headed back to the cave.

I arrived back at the cave to find it still empty. I decided to take advantage of the time and clean out the interior of some of the dirt and plant debris that had been deposited by the wind. I scooped it out with my hands and threw it down the side of the hill. In a short while, I had cleared the entire chamber. The cave was solid rock on roof, walls, and floor, and seemed very safe and secure. Once my cleaning had been completed, I lay down and thought about my situation. While it was true that we were lost in the desert, I thought that things could certainly be much worse. I was alone in the wilderness with a beautiful companion, my arm was no longer throbbing though it was by no means as good as new, and we were at least temporarily safe from attackers.

I was just beginning to worry that perhaps my first instincts about letting Noriandara Remontar leave by herself were correct, when she climbed back up to the mouth of the cave. She had managed to capture a small animal, which looked to me to be a cross between an iguana and a horseshoe crab. I didn't make an in-depth examination of it, because the Princess had it skinned and spitted almost before I knew it. I did take a picture of it though.

Once I had created a small cook-fire just outside the cave entrance, Noriandara Remontar started the meat cooking. We shared the water and the nuts which I had procured and recounted the details of our excursions.

"This seems to be an untraveled area," remarked the beautiful woman, "which may be all the better for us. I think we should wait here until we are sure that we have thrown off the trail of the Zoasians. Then we can start on our way home to Amathar. It seems as though I have not seen it in a long, long time." I too, am anxious to return to Amathar," I said. "I was just beginning to make myself feel at home there."

"Tell me what your world is like," said the Princess of Amathar. I told her as much as I could think of about Earth, the United States, and my old home town. I told her of my childhood, my education, my life in the army. I answered her numerous questions just as I had done for Malagor, Norar Remontar, Vena Remontar, and the interrogation team at the Temple of Amath. It was really very therapeutic. I then asked Noriandara Remontar to reciprocate by telling me of the adventures she had faced she was captured by the Zoasians.

"There is really not to much to tell," she began. "I was knocked unconscious in the battle against the Zoasians. When I woke up, I was a prisoner on their ship. There were one hundred one of us, a tiny fraction of our crew aboard Sun Cruiser 9. We were all tossed unceremoniously into an empty cargo hold, with our hands and feet manacled. They kept us that way the entire trip back to their home city-chained up and in the dark."

"It must have been awful," I commented.

"Well, it certainly wasn't good for my physical condition," she replied, "but it could have been much worse, especially from the Zoasians. We had not been in Zonamis very long before the attack came. Though I didn’t know at the time what was happening, I knew that something was going on. The guards forced us onto the transport. I don’t know where they were planning to take us." We sat thinking in silence for a while. At last I felt compelled to break the quiet with a question.

"How long should we stay here?"

"Long enough to get some of our strength back. I am certainly not up to my best, and I can tell that you are not. That arm must be very painful."

"Actually," I replied. "I had forgotten about it until you reminded me." We stayed in the small cave in the desert for what must have been about four days. We rested up, hunted and cooked small game, and harvested and ate a variety of strange but tasty seeds and roots. As it always did in Ecos, time passed strangely. In some ways it seemed as though we had been living together for months, and in other ways it seemed as though we had known each other but a moment. After we had slept one last time in our rock chamber, we set out once again across the desert. During our stay, the sandy landscape had remained cool and dry, though several large clouds occasionally crossed the sky. Great square rocks were piled here and there as though they had been left behind by some cyclopean preschooler. A few large trees clung to life in the beds of dry rivers. The only other vegetation was an abundance of small shrubs which carpeted the land. Here and there, one could see large dunes of billowing red sand. It was quite a rugged country, but it was also very beautiful, and it reminded me somewhat of my childhood home in the American southwest. Noriandara Remontar looked even better than when we had first met. The stopover at the cave had been a chance for her to recover from past ordeals. Fewer troubles now seemed to wrinkle her brow. I probably looked better myself, having benefited for the rest.

We had not walked too many miles when Noriandara Remontar called to me. As I looked up, she pointed to a large object in the sky. I thought at first that the object was an Amatharian or Zoasian battleship, since it was about the same size. It was not one of the air vessels. It was instead a floating city. While the bottom was far from smooth, with openings, windows, and protrusions, the top was a jagged skyline of tall buildings shooting up toward the noon day sun.

"Have you ever seen a floating city like that?" Noriandara Remontar asked.

"No," I replied. "You?"

"I have heard of them. They were built long ago by the Meznarks, contemporaries of the Orlons. They built hundreds of floating cities and sailed all over Ecos, until they angered a race of beings far away known as the Oindrag who hunted the Meznarks down and destroyed them. There are numerous artifacts from a fallen Meznark city at the Tree Clan Museum in Amathar, but I don't think anyone has ever come across a city still in flight."

"Are the Oindrag still around?"

"I believe they are also extinct."

"How far away to you suppose that thing is?"

"It is at least twenty kentads," she replied, indicating a distance of about fifteen miles, "but is seems to be moving toward us."

"Do you think there is anyone there steering it?"

"Our archaeologists believe that these cities were designed to float around at random." We continued on our way, watching the floating city moving in our general direction, though not altering our own course because of it. There seemed to be no purpose in moving toward the city as there was no obvious way for us to ascend to its height. Likewise there seemed to be nothing to fear in letting it cross our path. The closer it came, the more abandoned and broken down it appeared. We were less than a mile away from the city in the sky, when we simultaneously noticed several hundred long cables and ropes hanging from the artifact, some dragging along the ground below.

"If we could climb up there," I suggested, "perhaps we could find some sort of steering mechanism, and use this as transportation back to Amathar."

"My feelings exactly."

We increased our pace to a slow jog, but it soon became apparent that the ancient city was not heading directly toward us, but would instead cross our path somewhat ahead of us. We changed our course to correct the discrepancy, and increased our pace yet again. It was very difficult to run over the uneven desert landscape, at one moment sliding in soft sand and in the next hopping over mounds of stones. If I had not had the benefit of gravity enhanced strength, I would not have been able to keep up with the Princess of Amathar.

At last we reached the shadow of the hovering metropolis, or rather we and the metropolis crossed paths, since we had intercepted it. The cables were just ahead of us. But there was a problem. We were running out of land. The object of our chase was heading toward a huge canyon--not as large as the Grand Canyon of Arizona perhaps--but pretty big. If the city, which I estimated to be moving at about one to one and a half miles per hour, were to reach the canyon before we could climb aboard, we would lose it.

With an extra burst of speed, Noriandara Remontar and I reached the closest cable. It was long enough to drag along the ground. I grabbed the rope, which seemed to be made of a plastic like fiber, and the Princess started to climb up. I followed her, but could only climb a few feet from the ground with great difficulty. I realized that I would probably never be able to climb up the rope to the city with my splinted, broken arm.

My beautiful companion looked down and saw my predicament and dropped from her hand hold to the ground below me. She gathered up the slack rope below me and tied it around my waist, then climbed up beside me, just as we passed over the edge of the great canyon. It was almost a mile to the bottom, and it looked to me to be ten times that.

"I'll climb up and maybe I can pull you,” suggested the Princess. I looked up to the bottom of the flying behemoth above us. It seemed to me to be about six or seven hundred feet up. There was no guarantee that there was even a suitable entrance there, let alone a place from which the Princess could draw me up.

"I don't know about that," I replied. "Maybe we should wait until we are on the other side of the canyon and let it go."

"Don't be silly," she replied.

She started quickly up the rope, hand over hand. Climbing a rope had been one of the many fun activities I had gone through in Army boot camp. While I was there, I saw a great many men and a quite few women who could get to the top of a fifty foot tower at a pretty good clip, however none of them could match the climbing ability of the average Amatharian picked off the city street. I knew that Amatharians were on the whole, incredibly fit physically. I also knew that the huge amount of time spent wielding swords had to be a great enhancement to the arm muscles of warriors, swordsmen, and knights. Still, I was amazed at how fast Noriandara Remontar climbed up that cord. I watched the Princess as she climbed, though I stopped periodically to look around at the canyon below, and to make sure that I was securely tied. By the time she reached the top; between the distance involved, the movement of the rope, and the size of the floating city, it was difficult even to see her. But moments later, the rope began to be pulled up, and me with it. It started up slowly, then stopped, dropped a bit, and started up again more quickly.

The rope's rise up toward the city, and by connection my own, was quite fast considering the fact that Noriandara Remontar had just climbed six hundred feet hand over hand. As I neared the end of my upward journey, I saw that the rope had been hanging from a ledge suspended below the belly of the flying city, but now it was being pulled up, but not by the Princess. It was being hauled up by a metallic creature with four arms and three glowing eyes in its face.

Chapter Twenty Four: Among the Clouds

I stepped onto the ledge which looked as though it must have been a landing pad for some type of small air-going vessel. It was about sixty five feet square, and hung down about one hundred feet below the rest of the city. Standing at the edge were the metallic being who was now helping me onto the level surface of the deck, and Noriandara Remontar who was watching warily.

"I started to pull you up," she explained, "but this thing took the rope from me and did it for me."

"It looks like an automaton," I said, using the closest word in the Amatharian vocabulary to robot. The creature stacked the rope neatly near the precipice, and began rolling around on wheeled feet, picking up debris here and there which had blown on to the deck. "It looks like a maintenance man."

"That is not a man,” she sneered. "It is grotesque."

"I thought Amatharians were more tolerant of other species. It is probably designed to look something like the Meznarks."

"Oh it is," she said. "The Meznarks had three eyes and four arms, just as this thing does. They have legs though and not wheels. It is not the Meznarks that I find so grotesque. It is this artificial representation of them."

"They probably made their machines look as much like them as possible so that they could feel more comfortable around them." I suggested.

"They should not be comfortable around them," replied the Princess. "It is one thing to have a machine as a tool, to enhance one's abilities. It is another thing entirely to have a machine as a replacement for a person, whether that replaced person is a companion, a coworker, a slave, or a master. It disgusts me." I nodded. I had known people who chose to make machines their masters, and it was disgusting, whether the machine was a robot, a computer terminal, or a time clock.

"Perhaps," I changed the subject, "if there are machines still working here, then there may well be living Meznarks as well."

"Hmm," she said, still irked about the robot.

I began looking around for a way to the upper levels from the deck, and was rewarded with a platform on the side opposite where I had been lifted up. This platform was open on all sides but had a small raised control panel in the center of it, and another just beside the platform on the main deck.

"Looks like a down-going room," I said, using the Amatharian term for elevator.

"Down-going room," muttered the Princess.

"Shall we go on up?" I asked.

"Why don't you push this control and see if it works first." I pressed a button on the control panel beside me, and without any warning, the elevator platform dropped from the deck in a free fall. We looked over the edge as the device plummeted far down into the canyon below, finally crashing to the ground."

"Down-going room,” muttered the Princess.

We looked around some more, and finally located a rung ladder on the outside of one of the struts that held the landing platform by its corners to the main part of the city. We climbed up about sixty five feet to a hatch which opened with a large lever. The ladder continued on and after about two hundred more feet, a second hatch similar to the first led to the main city deck. We stepped out onto a broad avenue between tall buildings.

The temperature was somewhat lower than it had been on the ground, but it was beautifully sunny. We were near the center of the city, and had we not known that we were floating high in the air, we probably would not have been able to guess. There was still an eerie feeling pervading the place, though. The buildings were not in ruins, though they were in disrepair and in disarray. It was very quiet.

"How long do you suppose this thing has been deserted?" I asked.

"I don't know, but it doesn't seem to have been that long," replied Noriandara Remontar. "Perhaps the Oindrag didn't attack this city. Perhaps they were killed by disease."

"Maybe we should reserve our judgment until we see one of the Meznarks." The Princess nodded and started toward the nearest building, a large edifice with a series of steps leading up to the entrance. I followed her, and we both entered through a large square door way. The interior of the building was a huge open atrium and in the center was a metal sculpture of what on Earth might be called modern art.

"What is that thing?" asked Noriandara Remontar.

"It's an art object,” I replied. "It's an abstract."

"I don't understand," she said, and I recalled that all the statuary that I had seen in Amathar was of very realistic people.

"My people create art of a similar type. It represents some intangible thing--possibly courage or love or beauty, or it is meant to invoke the feeling of looking at the ocean or of feeling the breeze in your face."

"I still don't understand," she said. "Wouldn't it be better to create a statue of a person who was courageous, or a person who was loving, or a person who was beautiful? And if one lived in a flying city, and one wanted to look at the ocean, couldn't one just fly to the nearest ocean. And if one wants to feel the breeze in his face, he has only to step outside this building."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," I conceded.

We looked around the atrium. There seemed to be no other objects of any importance there. There was no furniture, nor was there any clue to the function of the building. In the rear of the chamber were two open elevator shafts. Considering the incident earlier, we both felt inclined to avoid using them. We walked back outside and looked around.

"I don't know where to look for a control center," said the Princess. "If this were an Amatharian ship, I would head for the tallest structure, but one can never tell with the Meznarks."

"I'm starting to feel hungry," I reported. "Perhaps we could have a bite to eat before we searched for the control center."

Noriandara Remontar agreed, and we found a nearby building with a large covered entrance, sat down upon the front step, and ate the last of the nuts I had gathered in the desert. One thing which I had not thought about previously was our inability to gather food or hunt while flying around on a floating city. True, if we located a control mechanism, we might possibly be able to lower the city to the ground so that we could do so, but it seemed unlikely that we would even find the control room, let alone find it in working order.

As I was mulling this unhappy thought over in my mind, a high-pitched scream echoed throughout the ruined buildings. Noriandara and I jumped to our feet and looked around. Not seeing anything, we waited where we were until the sound repeated. The Princess pointed in a likely direction for the source of the noise, and the two of us set off at a jog. We crossed one pavement covered street and rounded the corner of another building before hearing the sound for the third time. This gave us an even better bearing on its location. One more turn and we were at its point of origin. In the street ahead of us was an on-going battle. A wave of revulsion swept over me as I recognized six Kartags, the same creatures that had attacked Norar Remontar, Malagor, and me when we had traveled in the underground world of the Orlons. In full daylight, they were even more disgusting, if that is possible and resembled nothing so much as upright, human-sized rodents. These six Kartags were attacking four winged creatures. Each of the winged beings was about four feet tall, only slightly shorter than the Kartags, but were much more lightly built. Each was covered with feathers, two of bright green and yellow, and the other two of a rather plain brown variety. I noticed a fifth flyer, one of the colorful ones, dead on the street. The winged fellows each carried a sword made of wood, lined with tiny stone blades. The Kartags were armed with crude spears and nets.

As I have noted before, I am not well-known for planning out my actions, though I must say, that on the whole my intuitions have been proven right again and again. I will also admit that I held a prejudicial dislike toward Kartags both because of my previous dealings with them, and my strong distaste for their appearance. I didn't know who had started this fight, but I had a good idea who it was that was going to finish it. I whipped my sword from its sheath and rushed forward.

Just before I reached the combatants, one of the Kartags snared a flyer in his net. Two of the other Kartags immediately fell upon the trapped creature and began to kick him and poke at him with their spears. It was toward these fellows that I headed, and as I did so, my sword began to glow brightly with the power of the soul within.

The first Kartag was two Kartag halves before he knew what had hit him. The other two turned their spears to face me, allowing the flyer in the net time to disentangled himself and get away. The Kartags were no match for me, and I gather in general they are not much in the way of fighters, preferring to sneak up on their enemies and ambush them. In a brief moment, my two remaining foes had been dispatched. I turned to see that the Princess had overcome the other three just as quickly. The beings that we had saved were no longer to be seen, but their dead companion was lying upon the pavement. I bent down to examine him. His bright yellow and green plumage was not as lustrous as it had appeared upon the live examples of his species. Red blood and a yellowish substance trickled from his crushed skull. He was of very light build, and I estimate he weighed only fifty or sixty pounds, even though he was about four feet tall, or rather four feet long, since he was no longer vertical.

"What kind of being is this?" I wondered aloud.

"I'm afraid that I cannot say," Noriandara Remontar replied to the mostly rhetorical question. "I have never seen one of these creatures before. Take a picture of it." The Princess was quite the fan of photography. I complied.

"Well, that solves the food problem," she said.

"How so?"

"I don't know about these flying creatures, but I am familiar with the Kartags. They are scavengers of the worst sort. If they can exist on this flying city, there has to be some ready source of food."

"Then on the other hand," I countered, "maybe the only food they could find were these feathered fellows."

"Hmm," she murmured, as if hesitant to accept any opinion but her own. "Still, we should find a location as high as possible and survey the area."

As luck would have it, a very tall building was just down the block from us. It was almost three times as tall as the building which we had previously entered, and it was one of the taller buildings, if not the tallest, in the city. It had a large entry, which though the buildings themselves were of a variety of shapes and sizes, seemed to be rather uniform.

Again we found two elevator shafts, and again we felt some natural anxiety about using them. Upon examining the walls of the room for several minutes, I was rewarded by finding a sliding panel, which once I had noticed it, seemed very obvious. Within was a stairway leading up. The stairs were narrower and steeper than I would have made them, but considering that they were the product of an alien culture, they were not all that unwieldy. Noriandara Remontar and I began climbing, and continued until I was forced to stop and rest. All in all, we stopped and rested about ten times on the way up, and I would estimate that we climbed two hundred flights of stairs. At last though, we were at the top. On the highest level of the building, we exited a panel door exactly like the one we had entered at the base of the stairs. It was clear that the stairs were intended to be used only in an emergency, and that the elevator was the primary means of transportation between levels.

This floor of the building was one great room. If I had found it in a building on Earth, or Amathar for that matter, I would have taken it for a ballroom, but here on this alien floating city, there was just no way to know what its original use might have been. Three walls of the building were entirely composed of large windows, which provided a striking view in three directions of the city far below and beyond that, of the landscape slowly floating by. Noriandara Remontar and I walked to the closest window and looked out. From here we could see the tops of many other buildings.

Like most buildings on my home planet, the tops of the Meznark cities were flat. Most of these buildings were covered on the tops with lush fields of green growing things. Even in the distance, we could see that these miniature fields were being cultivated by the small flying creatures that we had seen in combat against the Kartags.

"We can climb up to the top of one of those other buildings and ask the flyers for some food," said the Princess.

"Maybe there is a garden just above us on this building."

"Did you not notice," said the Princess, "that this building is topped by one of those things you call an abstract."

"I didn't notice," I admitted.

"We shall go to that building," Noriandara Remontar said, pointing to a close, but not the closest, building."

"Why did you choose that building?" I asked.

"That one is large, with several different types of vegetation, therefore we have more of a chance to find something appropriate for our needs," she replied. "In addition, the area around the base of the building is shielded from view above, and we can approach without being seen."

"Maybe we could sneak up and take some of the food," I suggested. The Princess gave me a withering look. "We are not going to start acting like Kartags. We will attempt to negotiate with these beings. Perhaps they will give us some food. If not, we will find something to trade."

"Of course," I replied.

We descended from our vantage point and made our way to the other building. Just as the Princess had described, most of the walk to the other location was protected from viewers above by overhanging balconies and walkways. We reached the other building and we found it just as empty and generally uninteresting as we had found the other buildings. This building had a hidden panel just like the one I had previously located which, since I now knew what to look for, was really not hidden at all. We climbed up the stairs, and though the building was about one third shorter than our lookout point, still required several rest stops during the ascent.

At last we reached the very top of the stairway and exited through a wide, rather short door. This time, instead of finding ourselves on the top story of the interior, the door opened right onto the roof from a small semi-floor annex. The landscape of this particular building top, which is not a word that is inappropriate, since it was indeed well-landscaped and quite lush, was covered with growing plants, each in a raised bed created from stone blocks around its edge. Shade was provided by a half-dozen large potted trees. All in all, the scene was quite reminiscent of a city park on a warm summer day. I didn't have too long to reflect upon this fact, for almost as soon as we stepped out of the portal, we were approached by seven or eight of the flyers, all bright-hued males, and all carrying the stone-lined swords which I had seen in use against the Kartags on the street below. They crouched low, spread their wings out wide, and gave a hideous squawk, as they prepared to dice us into bird food. Chapter Twenty Five: Among the Flyers

I wasn't really in the mood to draw my weapon against the beautiful creatures that faced us with such threatening determination. For one thing, anyone who was an enemy of the Kartags was pretty much an ally of mine. If that sounds prejudiced to you, I advise you to wait until you are post-judice by having to fight them for your very lives in the bowels of some underground landscape, in the dark. Secondly, they were so colorful and lovely that it seemed a real crime to defile their persons with any sort of physical violence. And finally of course, they were only defending their home as all creatures are prone to do. I would fight to the death to protect Amathar from invaders, as I considered it already to be my home, though I had as yet spent a relatively short time there.

Just when it looked as though we would have no choice but to fight, another flyer came swooping through the air toward our adversaries and ourselves, squawking loudly. The avians facing us stepped back. The newcomer landed just in front of the Princess and myself and stepped boldly forward toward us. It stopped its squawking and began to coo in a very calming, soothing way.

"I guess he wants to be friends," I said.

"He was one of the flyers that we helped, by fighting the Kartags," replied the Princess.

"Now, how can you possibly tell them apart?"

"I recognize that patch of feathers he is missing on his shoulder." I looked at the avians shoulder, and there was indeed a patch of feathers missing there. He had several patches of bare skin, and I wondered if it might be an indication of age. The flyer advanced slowly and cautiously, cooing softly the entire time, as if he expected us to bolt in fright or attack. The Princess responded by stepping slowly forward to meet him. They both extended their upper extremities--she her arm, and he his wing --until they touched. I let out the breath that I had been unconsciously holding. Throughout my many adventures and close calls, I seldom feared for myself, but I was much more concerned when it came to the life of Noriandara Remontar. As soon as fingers met feathers, the other flyers smoothed down their own feathers and relaxed, and then they slowly moved forward to join their leader.

"Tell them we are hungry," I suggested.

The Princess glanced back at me, and then cupped her hand to her mouth. The bird man immediately responded by whistling an order to his fellows, who in turn, rushed off in several directions. He then waved his wing toward a nearby tree, as if inviting us to go in that direction and then turned and led the way. Following the avian to the shade of the tree, which reminded me a great deal of a weeping willow, we found a stone bench placed carefully beside a large wooden tub of water. As soon as we were seated on the bench, the flyer stuck his beak into the tub and took a long drink of water. He then indicated that we should do the same.

Normally I am somewhat wary of drinking from another person's cup. I certainly am not in the habit of sharing my water with whatever creature should come along. In this case though, it was not my water but the creature's. The sharing of water, I reasoned could well be an important ritual in the establishment of friendly relations. Besides, if truth be known, I was really, really thirsty. I waited for Noriandara Remontar to drink, and then I stuck my face down into the water and drew in as much of the wonderfully cool and surprisingly fresh-tasting liquid as I could hold without drowning myself. A few moments later, the members of the original group who had all dispersed with their leader's order, returned bearing wingfulls of fruits and vegetables. These were laid before the Princess and me, and we dug into them. Some were deliciously sweet and some were sour, but all of them were entirely new to me. My favorite was a grapefruit-sized thing with the consistency and somewhat of the flavor of a green grape. Once we had eaten, the head avian stood up, and again motioned for us to follow him. He led us to the edge of the building and hopped off. Looking after him, I saw him fly up and enter the side of the building through an open window.

"I hope he doesn't expect us to do the same," I said, but a moment later he reappeared from the opening and flew back up to our position, this time carrying a rope stretching out from the window. When he reached our elevation, he took the end of the rope which he carried, and tied it around the base of one of the potted trees. He then pointed over the edge with his wing.

"Shall we climb down?" asked Noriandara Remontar.

"I don't know how much more my arm can take," I said, attempting to reminder her both that I had a broken arm, and that it had been broken in service to her.

"You are treating it like a mother's mother's elder sister," she replied, which was an Amatharian expression something along the line of "babying it"--literally, treating it as you would treat a frail old great aunt.

I sighed, resigned to the knowledge that I would get no sympathy on the subject. It seemed that the Princess was, in general, an unsympathetic person. She quite reminded me of her aunt in that respect. Grasping the rope firmly, I stepped over the edge of the building top, and repelled down the side, twenty feet or so, until I reached the open window and entered. Noriandara Remontar was close behind me. I don't know what I expected--perhaps a feather-lined nest, but I was pleasantly surprised by what turned out to be our accommodations during our stay with the flyers. The room was about fourteen feet wide, and about twenty-five feet long. It was clean, and it was empty with the exception of two large sleeping mats made of heaps of soft grasses covered with smooth white cloth. Before I had a chance to examine anything else, our friendly avian arrived, pointed to the beds with his wing, and then left. I didn't need to be told twice. I dropped down in the first of the beds and as usual had no trouble in dropping right off to sleep.

I suspect that I slept a long while, though as usual, I had no way to tell--it was still noon when I woke. It was a very restful sleep though, and I felt much better. The Princess sat on her bed and cleaned her weapons.

"You sleep too much," she said.

"I have been told that," I replied. "I don't recall being a particularly heavy sleeper on my home world, but since I have been here in Ecos, I seem to require more sleep than anyone else around me."

"Mm," she replied.

"Do you suppose that my arm has healed yet?" I wondered. It was impossible to recall if it had been splinted for a week or six weeks.

"Probably." Noriandara Remontar rose and crossed the room. She removed the remaining bits of cloth holding the splint to my ulna, and tossed the makeshift splints aside.

"Can you move it?"

"I haven't stopped moving it since it was broken."

"It must not be that bad then," she replied unsympathetically. I shrugged and started to clean my own weapons. The cleaning of one's swords, or if one is not a warrior, one's equipment in general, was a common Amatharian pass-time. It was a minor disgrace to have damaged or soiled equipment. It seemed that few Amatharians ever reached that state of disgrace, for Amatharian weapons needed little maintenance. Still the cleaning and maintaining of one's equipment was just what one did during periods of relaxation.

While we were still sitting upon our beds, a flapping noise alerted us to the arrival of the old flyer, who stepped into our room. He now had a sack, tied with string, slung over his neck. After peering at each of us intently, which I took as an avian form of greeting, he removed his burden and opened it up. Inside, he had a collection of fruit much like that which had been given to us on our arrival. We each selected one of the offerings for our breakfast, and the flyer watched us as we ate. When we had finished, he indicated that he should climb up the rope to the top of the building. Once atop the skyscraper, Noriandara Remontar and I found ourselves in the company of a large group of flyers. It seemed the entire community had turned out to welcome, or at least to examine us. The flyers were divided up into two groups--those who were brightly plumed and those who had relatively plain feathers. I still assumed that the brightly feathered ones were the males of the species. Several of these brightly colored individuals stepped forward and peered at us with what seemed to be a typical avian stare. One of these had a nasty cut across his chest. It had been stitched together with white thread.

"These must be the fellows who were fighting with the Kartags when we came along," I suggested.

"I was just thinking the same thing," replied my Amatharian companion. The elder came forward again. He pointed at the two of us with his two extremities, and then made a sweeping motion toward his fellows.

"He is either welcoming us, or inviting us to join the tribe," I said.

"I don't suppose that there is much distinction," replied Noriandara Remontar, "I doubt that they have many casual visitors up here on this floating little world of theirs." Two of the brightly colored males came toward the Princess, and taking her gently by each of her "wings" and led her away, while two of the drab looking females led me in another direction. I wondered at this strange behavior. There seemed to be several possibilities--either I was mistaken as to the identity of their sex, or they were mistaken as to ours. Any other sort of explanation was something that I didn't want to think about at the time. The answer quickly became apparent.

I was led to a part of the rooftop with a heavy concentration of the potted trees provided shade over a carefully cultivated area. Here in the cool protection of the shade were several beds much like the one I had been provided with, laid out upon the grass. On these beds were the offspring of the tribe. There were five children, ranging from an ugly, featherless little fellow about the size of a turkey, to an individual fully as large as an adult, but with an unkempt, hairy assortment of plumage. I followed my two new friends past the nursery, to a nearby bed of fruit bearing plants, which sprouted from the ground in a small explosion of long, sharp leaves. The bird women began picking the fruit and with their actions, they indicated that I should do likewise. There seemed to be no real point in protesting their perception of my sex. I had never really considered certain jobs to be ‘women's work,’ and even those men in the army who had thought that way, I am pretty sure, had not consigned farming to that category. So I gathered up fruit until I had an armful, and then followed the girls back to the chicks. The females began the next step of their duties, which was to gulp a fruit, whole, into their mouth, and a few moments later, to regurgitate it down into the waiting mouths of their offspring. I was a little concerned that perhaps they expected me to participate in this endeavor--something that I was sure I was not equipped for. Apparently though, they had already surmised my unsuitability for the task, for I was not asked to attempt it. We made several trips to the garden, for the children ate a lot. Then we endeavored to see to the other end of the chick. Each baby produced a fecal sack, which the mothers and I gathered and tossed off the edge of the building. It was, I imagined, much cleaner than changing diapers. Finally, when the offspring were fed and clean, they dozed off to sleep. I followed the girls to a group of seats arranged in a semi-circle, beside the potted base of the largest tree in our little grove. Each of the avians opened a small satchel and pulled out a piece of clean white cloth. Each in turn held up their cloth and showed what was being made of it, to the approving whistles of her peers. One was making a satchel, another, a sort of hood. Still another was producing a bed cover. The closest of my new friends handed me a large piece of cloth and a leaf from the fruit plant. I watched as she pulled the sharp tip away from the leaf, taking with it a long string of plant silk, and ending up with a passable needle and thread. I realized that I was being invited to join their sewing circle. One couldn't help but be flattered.

Now that I think about it, I don't think that up until that moment in my life I had ever attempted to sew anything. When I was a child, there had always been someone to do all my sewing for me. In the army, one simply requisitioned replacements for damaged and worn clothing. Like many bachelors, once I had left the army, I simply bought a replacement for a shirt that lost a button, or a pair of slacks that became ripped. Now that I had the chance to do some sewing though, I took to it quite well. I cut the cloth into a smaller piece using my short sword, and in no time at all I had fashioned my very own bird man satchel. I had been so engrossed in the completion of my project that I failed to notice the arrival of seven or eight new female avians. This was the night shift, or what passed for the night shift in a world where it was always noon. I followed my girls, as we left tending the babes to the newcomers, and rejoined the males and Noriandara Remontar. The males bore with them several large woven baskets full of fruit and the entire group sat down and enjoyed a meal together. I realized then that I was very hungry, and that I had been working for a day, or half a day, or at least a long time, without eating. This meal was both welcome and tasty. Afterwards, the Princess and I returned down the rope to our room.

"I haven't been this tired in a long time," reported Noriandara Remontar.

"What did they have you doing?" I wondered.

"We worked in the field, first planting one fruit bed, then weeding another, and finally picking the fruit from a third. What about you?"

"Much the same thing," I replied. "How long do you think we should stay here?"

"The city is floating in the general direction of Amathar. As long as that remains the case, we might as well stay aboard. It is quicker and easier than walking, and I doubt we will find a better method of locomotion. And since we are aboard the ship, life among these avians is infinitely preferable to eking out an existence by ourselves, constantly dodging the Kartags."

I nodded in acknowledgment. So it was decided that we would remain members of the avian tribe, falling into a routine, a cannot say a daily routine as their were no days--Noriandara Remontar hunting and gathering with the males, and I taking care of the youngsters, sewing clothing, and repairing equipment.

I am always losing track of time in Ecos. I am sure that the Amatharians and the other races native to this artificial world manage to keep track of their doings with better ability than I, though I would point out that they never overtly paid much attention to the passing of moments. In any case, it was some time before the routine of the flyer's lives was interrupted. I had begun to think that with the Kartags safely on the ground level of this flying city, that we--that is to say, the flyers--had nothing much to fear as long as we stayed on our lofty perches. I was soon to find that there were other dangers. I was following the typical flyer schedule, having had breakfast with all of the tribe and the Princess. As usual, the girls and I fed the chicks and sat down to do some sewing. I was working on the last stitches of a new tabard for myself, my original having been torn for splints and bandages along the way. I had previously completed one for the Princess. They looked pretty good, if I do say so myself, though they did not have the beautiful crests of knighthood emblazoned upon them. Just as I was inserting the needle into the cloth once more, I heard a scream nearby. I jumped up, dropping my sewing handiwork, and raced to the source of the commotion.

The baby avian farthest away from me was under attack, and though the females were attempting to protect it, it was clear that they were no match for the attacker. It was a great insect, five or six feet thick and fully thirty feet long. The bloated caterpillar like body, colored in bright blues and purples, undulated as it moved upon its many legs. On its front end was a hideous open mouth with several sets of ugly pinchers, and on its tail, which stood up like a scorpion's, was a stinger long enough to drill clear through the body of a man. The females were attempting to distract it from the baby who was wailing with fright. As I leapt forward, my gravity enhanced muscles carrying me high into the air, I whipped out my sword. It immediately began to glow with a white hot intensity as the soul within awakened and anticipated battle. I reached the baby in three steps, and on my fourth step, I hopped over the head of the insect and stepped squarely upon its back. The tail shot forward, its stinger heading straight for my chest. My sword sliced through the tail where it connected to the bloated body, sending green ichor flying. I then turned and drove the point of my sword down into the creature's body. It immediately began to collapse, spewing a fountain of green goo into the air and leaving a great green puddle reflecting in the sun. Two of the female avians rushed to the baby's side to see that it was alright. It seemed unharmed. The others turned and looked at me with what I thought was uncomfortable silence. They didn't act frightened, at least not overtly, but they didn't seem as social as they did before. I imagine that my display of an inordinate amount of power must have seemed quite unfeminine to them. They remained stand-offish the remainder of my shift. Back in our room, I related the experience to Noriandara Remontar.

"We should leave now anyway," she said. "We are close to the nearest approach to Amathar."

Chapter Twenty Six: Feet on the Ground

When the Princess and I woke up from a restful sleep, we gathered our things together, including several new tabards and satchels which I had made, the latter filled with fruit which she had provided. We climbed up the rope to the top of the building to make our farewells to the tribe. The avians gathered around us, cooing and chirping softly. Even the females seemed to have forgotten their stand-offish behavior. They gave us many small tokens of their affection, such as necklaces of beads and feathers, pieces of dried fruit, small bags of herbs, and tiny containers of flower nectar. I extended my hand in a wave to the flyers, and the Princess and I exited the rooftop haven using the same door through which we had entered it. By now I was feeling quite healed and healthy, my time spent sitting and sewing having served well in a recuperative capacity. The flights of stairs which had seemed so many on the way up flew by as we made our way down to the street level of the floating city. As soon as I stepped out of the front door of the Meznark building, I was forced to jump aside to avoid stepping in a large pile of fecal material left right there on the street. It was not the neat little bags that the avians left behind either, but a nasty pile much like I had seen below the mountains of the ancient Orlons. This alone was enough to remind me that we were now in the realm of the Kartags, though quite honestly, I never felt them to be much of a threat to my safety. Instead I wished to avoid them more for their unsavory nature and for their hideous smell. Still, we wasted no time in getting to the ladder which led down to the landing bay below the city.

Climbing down the ladder in the open air, to the landing platform two hundred feet below might have created problems for anyone with a fear of heights, but it was nothing compared to the trip from the platform to the ground on a strand of plastic cable. I am not prone to acrophobia, but was still unnerved. I thought for a moment that the city had gained altitude since we had come aboard, but quickly realized that this was not so, as the cables were still trailing along the ground at about the same length.

"I'll go down first,” I said. “Follow me."

I wanted to make sure that if she fell, I would have a chance to catch her, and likewise if I were to fall, that I would not knock her off as well. She nodded, and I started down. The climb was much easier than I expected. I had gotten used to the effect that the lower gravity had upon me when I walked, ran, or picked something up. I had forgotten that the same principles would apply in this situation, allowing me to lift my own body with much greater ease than I would have had I been on Earth. About half way down the cord to the ground, I stopped and looked up to check on the Princess's progress. She was some thirty feet above me and seemed to be having no trouble with the descent. I paused for a moment to look around and noticed for the first time that as we were climbing down one rope, something was climbing up another. About fifty feet away from our position, a creature was ascending. It was horrible looking. It was frighteningly ugly. It was the stuff of nightmares. I was thankful for the eternal daylight of Ecos, for to face such a thing in the darkness was something I had no wish to contemplate. About twice the height of a man, the creature was covered with slime-dripping green hair. Its upper extremities were half hands, half flippers and its lower extremities were even more flipper-like, with suction cups lining the interiors. Its face was nothing more that a large sucker with a stinger or a long tusk protruding from it.

"Amath preserve us!" cried the Princess, seeing the thing for the first time.

"Indeed," I replied, "Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"No, and I hope I never do again."

The creature stared at us for several moments with its malevolent yellow eyes drilling holes into us. It then looked up and down. Then it attempted to swing the cord it was climbing, as if to, Tarzan-like, propel itself over to us. Quickly realizing that it would not be able to do so, it turned its attention away from us and resumed its task of making toward the hovering city.

"I hate to think of that thing preying on our flyers," I said.

"Or the Kartags," said Noriandara Remontar, and I agreed. I wouldn't have turned that creature loose on a Zoasian.

"Should we climb up and hunt it down? It certainly appears malevolent."

"It does appear malevolent," agreed the Princess, "but, no. We are not familiar enough with the existing eco-structure of that flying city. For all we know, there may well be an entire pack of those things hunting in the lower levels."

I supposed that she was correct. I felt uneasy about even allowing such a thing to exist, so frighteningly horrible was it. The fearsome face of the stummada was nothing compared to the unnamed thing. Still, who was I to be judge of such things? Might not the beautifully feathered flyers have found me horribly ugly? They may well have, but were willing to accept me into their flock anyway. Oh well. The thing continued up to the city, and we lowered ourselves to the ground, dropping from the cables, and feeling the solid ground of Ecos beneath our feet.

"We shall sit and eat," said Noriandara Remontar. "It shall pay for us to lighten our load by transferring some of our fruit into our body. And I would like to watch the city for a while as it sails away." Finding two large rocks to sit upon, the Princess and I watched the Meznark city sail into the distance as we nibbled on the various sweet fruits cultivated by the avians. For a long while, we spoke little. By the time that we had eaten all that we wanted--and that was some time, for as you know, it is difficult to really fill oneself up with fruit--our former vehicle was a dot in the distant sky. Once we had finished our repast, Noriandara Remontar and I started on our way. The flying ship had taken us completely away from the desert and over the rocky badlands and mountain chains which had separated it from the great plains in which we now found ourselves. Unlike the great grasslands which Malagor and I had first crossed after my arrival on Ecos, which resembled the African savannah, these plains were more akin to a temperate landscape. The land here was covered with tall green grasses and seemed barren of large animal life with the exception of an occasional small herd of grazing beasts. As I walked along, I looked at my Amatharian companion. She was incredibly beautiful, but there was something lacking in her face. She was so much like Vena Remontar--perhaps a little more beautiful, in the classic sense of that word, but she did not possess that upward turn of the eyebrow. And when she smiled, the corners of her lips still turned down. Vena Remontar's lips turned up in the corners. She almost always smiled--a happy smile, a sad smile, an enigmatic smile. I missed Vena Remontar's smiles, and her friendship--and Malagor's, and Norar Remontar's. I missed being in the company of a person who cared about me. I had lived without that for the majority of my life, and now that I had experience that kind of friendship, I was not whole when I was without it. The Princess cared about me as one would care about a countryman or anyone to whom one owed her life, but she did not act as though she were my friend, nor as though she wanted to be. How I had longed to find her and to be with her. And now that she was here with me, what could I do to win her love? Did I even want to win it?

Such were my musings, when the Princess suddenly jumped forward and took off at a run. I immediately made chase and followed.

"Where are you going?" I shouted.

"Come on!" she called.

As she ran, she drew her short sword and took a great leap forward to land with both feet upon an animal, at the same time driving her sword point into its head. I came to a stop beside her, curious as to the cause of so great a burst of speed. The creature now lying dead on the ground was a large reptile about four feet long, and looked to be about half way between a monitor lizard and a crocodilian. Its mottled greenish skin had rendered him invisible to my eyes, but the Princess had noticed the large orange spots below his eyes.

"Is this for us to eat?"

"Of course," she said. "I killed it. You clean it." Cleaning and dressing an animal carcass with a short sword is not as fun or as easy as one might think it would be, but I managed to do just that. When I had finished, I spitted the animal, started a fire over which to cook it.

"Reptiles are very good to eat,” said Noriandara Remontar. Actually she did not use the word of reptile at all, since the Amatharians don't have a word for reptiles. They do not classify animals the way that we do. Their classification system divides all animals into groups according to how many holes are found in their craniums, and subdivides them according to several other strange things, like the shape of the pelvis, and the type of nose. It doesn't seem to make much sense to me, but it works for them.

"You eat a lot of reptiles, do you?" I asked.

"A popular meat is doir nyee," she replied, then provided a perfect example of the Amatharian's strange animal classification system. "It is a small animal very much like this one—maybe a little larger, and with fur."

"I didn't have a chance to try any of that in Amathar."

"An unfortunate thing," she continued. "It is particularly good when cooked upon an open fire."

"Well then, this should be very tasty."

It was tasty too, when we at last ate the animal. I was amazed at how good it tasted to me, though this might have been more a function of not having had any meat at all while living with the flyers, rather than the choiceness of this particular beast. It seems that the flyers received all their nourishment from the plants they ate, and those same plants offered us sustenance while we were living among them, but the human desire for meat could not be overcome indefinitely. I am reminded of those individuals from my home world who have chosen to become vegetarians. I know that there are a variety of reasons why one would choose this lifestyle--concerns for health or distaste of the sometimes cruel ways animals are treated, or the nonsensical idea that animals should have rights equaling those of human beings. None of these reasons seemed to me to justify the total abstinence from the meat our bodies were designed for. In Amathar, no one ever argued that non-sentient animals should have any kind of rights, though they all had a deep concern for the environment. No one was cruel to animals, nor to anything or anyone else. And no one was a vegetarian.

"On our way again," said the Princess, rising after her repast.

"Yes," I replied. "On our way again."

We walked across the great flat landscape, up to our shins in thick, dark, green grass. Here and there were large succulent plants, something like an aloe vera, but with little tendrils on the ends of its fat leaves. The air was moist and the sun was warm upon the tops of our heads, but not too hot. Occasionally it would be blotted out by tremendously puffy clouds that rolled along in the sky above us, seeming to reach down toward us and at the same time reach up into the highest part of the heavens. The Princess knew the direction in which Amathar lay, possessing that unusual power of direction that I had previously seen evidenced only by Malagor. It seems that all the beings living in Ecos have it to one extent or another. The Malagors are simply the most in tune with the sense. After a while, I believed that I was inexplicably gaining that power as well.

After we had traveled some time, and stopped to sleep several times along the way--I was inclined to think of it as about two days, though of course it never got dark--the land began to slope downward making it much easier traveling. The lovely grassland continued, but trees became more common, many reaching so high up into the sky that they seemed to be trying to touch those great puffy clouds passing by. Every tree seemed to be clothed in huge leaves, each bigger than my hand, and many of them had flowers upon them. When we stopped our journey to rest and eat, I was able to lie upon my back, and imagine that I was taking a nap on an early June morning, after having eaten a picnic lunch. It felt good to let the sun shine down and warm my body. The clouds moved lazily toward the direction from which we had come.

Shortly after leaving our rest stop, we topped a small ridge and looked down the slope to see a great body of water. It was large enough that one could not see the far side, though there is always the impression of something in the distance in Ecos, as it is the interior of a great ball. Likewise, it stretched out as far as the eye could see to the left and to the right. Though it took us some time to traverse the distance to the shore, what seemed to me to be about four or five hours, neither the Princess nor I spoke. We at last reached the shoreline and she knelt down to taste the still water.

"Salt," Noriandara Remontar pronounced.

I nodded.

"We shall have to cross it," she said.

I nodded again.

"Why don't we make camp here," she continued. "We might as well start looking for something to eat. You follow the coast to the right, and I will follow it to the left." She stacked several rocks, one upon the other. "We can meet back here." I nodded and watched her head away down the shoreline. I always felt uneasy when the Princess found it necessary to be separated from me. Then again, she was probably at least as able to take care of herself as I was.

Turning to start down the shore line in my own direction, I paused to look out upon the water of the sea. The air just above the water was evidently very still indeed, for I have seen back-yard fish ponds with greater waves upon them than were upon this quiet body of salt water. Instead of rolling in at my feet, the water slapped eight or ten inches of the shore, and the beach consisted on only two or three feet of very coarse sand between the water and the green carpet of the grassland above. As I walked, I saw no sign of jumping fish or any other aquatic animal. There were no flying creatures in the air above the water. I was about to conclude that this was a dead sea, when I came across a large piece of driftwood--a log really--which was encrusted with oyster-like shell fish. I gathered together every one I could pull off--which was most of them--and returned the way I had come. I almost missed the little stack of stones which Noriandara Remontar had left as a marker, not that this would have been much of a calamity. I simply would have continued on my way until I encountered her. I placed my collected shellfish in a small pile and sat down. When the Princess returned, loaded down with several types of fruit, I had been peacefully contemplating the sea for what seemed like quite a while. At no time did I see any splash or ripple mar its calm surface.

Chapter Twenty Seven: Across the Silent Sea

The Princess of Amathar and I spent quite some time on that strange shore. It was probably just as long a time as we had spent with the flyers, though I will never know for certain. We utilized that time constructing a raft for the sea voyage ahead of us. It was nothing more than five large logs tied together with rope made of twisted grasses. It seemed unlikely that a sail would be of any use to us, as we never saw any wind on the water, though the clouds far up in the heavens continued to happily roll along in the direction opposite of ours. Instead we made several paddles--one cut from a single long piece of wood, two made from smaller pieces of wood attached to poles with home-made rope, and one made of a long flat horn or antler that I found. Since I never saw the animal from which it came, I can't be any more specific about it.

While we were thus engaged as shipwrights, Noriandara Remontar and I continued to talk and get to know each other. I think she was beginning to like me. And for my part, I was finding myself less and less surprised by her gruffness. She was not at all like her brother or her cousin. She was quiet and somewhat taciturn and had a decidedly sarcastic side to her. Of course, like every Amatharian, she was reserved, and seldom spoke anything that wasn't either interesting or important. She had a way of making me with her feel about ten inches tall, whereas Vena Remontar had a way of making me feel ten feet tall. Maybe it was just me. On the whole, our time on that shore was quite pleasant and in some ways reminded me of my journey to Amathar with Norar Remontar and Malagor. Of more concern to me than the raft, was the availability of food. On a sea without large waves or frequent storms, the stability and seaworthiness of a vessel was only of secondary importance. But, one must eat. And drink, too. We had spent twice as long foraging for food and making containers in which to store fresh water, than we had upon building the raft. We gathered many different kinds of fruits and vegetables, for the surrounding area was a lush garden of plant life. I even found a patch of the strange blue berries which Malagor and I had picked so long ago. Those and many of the other fruits were dried in the sun, as were strips of jerky meat made from a variety of animals. I would have liked to smoke some fish as well, though I could find none, no matter how hard I searched. The shellfish proved tasty when fresh, either steamed or raw, but I was unable to preserve them. At last I gathered a bunch of the oyster-like creatures and placed them in a loosely woven basket which I trailed over the side of the raft. In this way they were able to survive, straining the passing water for nutrients until at last they became my nutrients.

When Noriandara Remontar and I finally felt we were well provisioned enough for a relatively long sea voyage, we pulled the raft down to the water and placed all of our supplies on it. Then we climbed on. There was just barely enough room for us and our things, and it was impossible for both of us to lie down and sleep at the same time. It was planned that we would take turns paddling and resting. At first we both paddled to get away from the shore, and it was only after the edge of the water was only a dim line in the distance that we settled into our rotation.

The reflected sun on the water made the air a little warmer than it had been for us on the shore. At least that is my explanation for it, not being a meteorologist myself. It was by no means uncomfortable though. Indeed, if it had been a more comfortable vessel in which we found ourselves, I would have thought this the most pleasant of vacations. The water was cool but it was difficult to see down into it more than a foot or so. Perhaps this had something to do with the salt content. When the job of rowing became overtaxing, the Princess would remove her tabard and boots, and slide over the side of the raft into the water to cool off. I did this too on occasion, though more often I would simply scoop out a basket full of water to poor over my head. There was something unwholesome about an ocean with no fish. I had little problem swimming around in the Pacific Ocean near Catalina Island on Earth despite the fact that it is the summer feeding grounds for the Great White Shark--not that I didn't think about them. At least there, they had plenty of sea lions and fish to choose from. Here in the fishless water, if some great voracious creature decided it was hungry, it didn't have much from which to choose. The Princess and I were, not respectively, the main course and desert.

"How large do you suppose this sea to be?" I asked my companion.

"I do not believe it is much more than one hundred kentads (about two hundred miles)," she replied.

"We should be across it before our food runs low."

"How can you be sure?"

"I am not sure. But I have a sense for these things."

After we had been into our crossing about two days, I was lying on my side looking into the water, preparing for my turn at sleep. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw a shape pass below me. It was not a large shape, but it was startling to me because of the heretofore absence of any swimming animals. For several moments I tried to picture in my mind what I had seen, for the shape had passed by me quickly. It was not a fish shape, nor was it as lightning quick as a fish might be expected to be. It resembled a frog and was about the size of both my hands together. I dozed off moments later, but remembered to tell Noriandara Remontar of my observation when I woke.

"Are you sure it wasn't just something you dreamed?" asked my companion.

"Pretty sure."

"Hmm. This may be a problem."

"Why would it be a problem?" I asked. "I just saw one creature and it wasn't very big. It's not like I saw a crocodile or a shark."

"Crocodile or shark?" she wondered.

"Man-eating beasts," I explained.

She nodded and continued. "This could be worse. When I was a child, I went on a biological expedition with my aunt Mindana Remontar. We encountered an area of many great lakes. Each one was devoid of any but the most primitive aquatic life, with the exception of the Bloobnoob."

"Bloobnoob?"

"That is what the Preemor call them. It is an onomatopoeic word, derived from the sound they make. The Bloobnoob are a race of beings that live below the waves when they are young, and which upon adulthood invade surrounding regions and expand to other bodies of water. They are openly hostile and capture other beings for slaves and for food. They defile their own waterways, and devour all fish and aquatic life. Their very presence spelled demise for any other creatures nearby."

"Lovely," I replied. "And you think this might be one of these Bloobnoob that I saw."

"The description sounds right for one of their spawn. The Bloobnoob who we encountered lived in fresh-water lakes though, and not salty seas like this one."

This did not make me feel much better. I felt as though I was losing a paranoid fear of something grabbing me from below the water, and gaining a quite reasonable fear of something grabbing me from below the water. It did not seem to be a fair trade. We continued on, though. There was little else we could do, being in the center of an ocean. We persevered in our efforts with the paddles, and though nothing grabbed either of us from below the waves, I never stopped considering the possibility that something might.

I could try to place a measurement of time on our voyage across the small sea, but there is really no reason for me to do so. Suffice it to say that we arrived before we had completely used all of our provisions. At least we still had some food left. We had been forced to go the last several shifts rowing without fresh water. While this was not a true hardship, in that it did not cause us any permanent injury, it was nonetheless unpleasant. When we had at last stepped off the side of the raft and into the relatively shallow water near the far shore, the first thing that I wanted to do was to find a river, stream, or creek. This side of the little sea was very similar in temperature to our previous location--if anything a little lusher and a little more heavily forested. We both reasoned that it would be an easy matter to find a river, and we were correct. A slow flowing river about one hundred fifty feet across was draining its slightly muddy but unsalted cargo into the broad blue expanse less than a mile from where we had put ashore. I took a long drought and filled all of our water containers.

"Let us rest for a while nearby," said the beautiful Amatharian woman.

"Fine," I replied, looking around. "Why don't we make a temporary camp upon that hill?" Reaching up above a slight bend in the river was a small hill topped by five or six large, bushy trees. From the top, one could look around in all directions, with a great view of the river, and with the exception of some of the heavily wooded areas, a good view of everything else. Once at the top of the hill, we found a great spot to lie down upon, with the shade of the largest of the trees to protect us from the eternal noon-day sun. Though we were both tired, I volunteered to take the first watch. Even in a garden, one could never be too careful.

While Noriandara Remontar quietly dozed beneath the shady tree, I strolled around the base of the hill, scouting the area and looking for any possible sources of food. It may seem as I relate this story, that we spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about, looking for, or thinking about food, but anyone who has been alone in the wilderness, forced to live by their wits or by the hand of providence will agree that things like food, water, and shelter take on an importance that at other times seems out of proportion. This new land in which we found ourselves was not so well stocked as the one from which we had come, though I found some fruit on a tree which had been slightly nibbled at by some animal or other. When I returned to the hilltop, the Princess was still sleeping, so I sat and watched her for a while. I had little opportunity to do so while paddling along in the water, and I had missed it, for you see, I cannot stress enough what an incredibly beautiful woman she was. This time though, as I looked at her, I couldn't help but daydream about her cousin. If only I could see my very good friend Vena Remontar again, all the adventures through which I had passed would seem trivial. Shortly, the Princess returned to the world of the living and sat up. She inquired if anything unusual had happened during her nap. I related the details of my observation of the surrounding countryside, and I gave her half of the fruit which I had acquired.

"You may take your turn sleeping now," said the Amatharian woman.

"I don't know that I'm really sleepy yet," I replied, laying down and using a partially exposed tree root for a pillow. "Maybe you could talk a bit, and help me to go to sleep."

"What do you want me to talk about?" she asked in a tone that only confirmed my belief that she did not particularly enjoy casual conversation.

"Tell me about your visit to the garden of souls."

"I was already a grown woman, and an accomplished swordsman. I had been on many expeditions and seen many things in the world. I had many adventures. In fact, my cousin Vena Remontar had already received her soul, even though I was walking upright when she was born. My brother had gone to the garden to find his soul, and I was tempted to do the same, but I was also... hesitant. I went to reflect in the Temple of Amath, but it didn't seem to provide answers that I needed.

"I walked back to the garden entrance to see if Norar Remontar had returned. He had not, but a young swordsman from the Tree Clan emerged from the garden just then. He had been in the garden for a long time, but had not received his soul. Instead of dying as he should have, he had come out. His family and his clan were greatly dishonored. Every member of Tree Clan who was present in the courtyard, lowered their heads and walked away.

"I decided right then that I would not seek a soul. I would live my life as a swordsman and a scientist as my aunt did. I started to walk away. For some reason though, I could not control my direction, and I walked right into the garden. It was my soul calling me, but I didn't know that at the time. Once inside the gates, I knew that I could not come back out. There was no going back. I went deeper into the garden until I found my soul. Only then did I return."

Her tale told she slowly walked away down the hill. I thought about the fact that everyone has their own story and that what might seem so strange to one of us, would be so ordinary to another, and that what was an every day event for one, my be a traumatic event in the life of another. Then there were those events which would affect anyone, and affect them forever --like the young swordsman from the Tree Clan. My mind told me that this was the one thing in which the Amatharians were cruel and unnecessarily so. Yet another part of my body, some part which I could not quite identify, seemed to tell me that it was just and right that the Amatharians should spurn and cast out anyone who dared to return from the Garden of Souls without a soul of his own.

Thinking such thoughts, with two different parts of my body it seemed, I dozed off. I had become adept at falling asleep during the daylight hours, since that is all that there were in the world of Ecos, something that would have been, if not impossible, then at least unusual for me when I lived on Earth. I recalled that long ago I wondered if Amatharians closed their drapes before sleeping, and realized that I had not really paid much attention when I was in the city --but as it turned out Amatharians had no drapes. Bedrooms usually possessed no windows. Falling asleep was not really that difficult a task, as I am sure that many afternoon nap-takers can attest. I was beneath a shady tree, and the clouds above shaded the land around me with dappled sunlight.

I was startled awake by that unpleasant feeling of someone or some thing hovering over me. I opened my eyes to find that this was the case. A black dripping form stood over me. It had a rounded mushy body with a decidedly frog-like shape. If was difficult to tell where the head ended and the body began, but upon its head was a great drooping mouth and two huge googly eyes. While its body was pudgy, its arms were long and spindly with webbed hands. Its legs by contrast, were thick and powerful. It wore no clothing, and the only article of equipment which it carried was a long bone dagger. My mind had just enough time to register these facts, when the repulsive thing jumped on me. Chapter Twenty Eight: The Bloobnoob

The thing lunged down at me, intent on grabbing me with its long and relatively spindly, but no doubt strong, arms. I rolled back onto my shoulders and planted both my feet in the creature's chest, and giving it a great shove, I sent it flying ten feet into the air. With a single swift motion, I came to my feet, and was standing upright with glowing sword in hand when the grotesque amphibian came crashing back to the ground with a dull thud.

There were six more of the monsters standing around me, and they lunged for me as a group. I swung my sword through the body of the closest, while pushing the next back with my left hand. I recoiled as I felt the thick coating of slime which covered the thing's body. At that moment, three others rushed forward and I was knocked back against the tree. I began hacking with abandon, chopping here and there into the bodies of my attackers. This caused them to step back a few feet. At least those who were still able to step back did so. One was lying on the ground unmoving, and two others were flopping around as they tried to get back to their feet.

While they took a moment to decide who would be the first among them to die, I prepared myself for their next assault. When they lunged forward, I jump up, tucking and rolling forward, to land behind them. Then with a spinning cut, I decapitated two in one blow. When I say decapitated, I mean that I sliced off at least the top half of what I would call the head, for I repeat it was difficult to say just where the body ended and the head began. There was no neck. The single remaining unscathed amphibian turned toward the river, and it was with fierce satisfaction that I noted none of those who remained would ever swim again. I ran after the last remaining man-frog, the anger born of being taken from peaceful sleep into bloody battle hazing over my better judgment. I could have easily overtaken the flopping limping gate of the slimy entity, even with out my gravity enhanced speed. Before I had gone more than two steps, I stopped in my tracks. Stuck into the ground was Noriandara Remontar's sword. I pulled it out of the ground and looked at it. It was quiet. There was no sign of the soul within, and I felt my heart ache, even though I knew this really signified nothing. The soul would have been quiet even if I had been using it in battle. The soul only awaked when used by its chosen knight. I put the Princess's sword in my sheath, and continued.

My scum-covered adversary was gone, but I knew approximately where it had entered the river. On the bank were a great many tracks. This was apparently both the point of egress and entrance. The water here was fast and deep. Before I could think too much about it, admittedly something that is usually not too much of a problem, I took a deep breath and dived in.

The water was not too cold, though the temperature was lower than the air had been. I swam deeper and deeper--the river was far less shallow than I had supposed. I reached a level at which my ears began to hurt. The water was muddy though well lit by the noon-day sun. It seemed to me that I was able to hold my breath longer than I had whenever swimming on my home planet. Perhaps this was due somehow to the gravitational conditions of Ecos, or perhaps it just seemed that way because of all the adrenaline pumping through my system. Still, I was just at the point when I thought that I would need to surface for a breath, when I noticed an opening in the rocky bed of the river. I swam down into the large hole and discovered a tunnel, which went downward some twenty feet and then turned. I realized that I didn't have enough air in my lungs to last much longer, so I returned to the surface and took several deep breaths. I then hyperventilated for ten or fifteen seconds to fill my blood with oxygen. Now I was as ready as I could be. I dived back to the bottom of the river only to find that I had been swept down stream. I tried to go against the current, but it would have been impossible even had I not been encumbered by equipment and clothing. In the end I was forced to swim to the shore and walk upstream to the place where I had jumped in and do it all again.

This time I went right to the bottom and into the submarine passage. At the bottom of the shaft, I gave myself a strong push off the wall and into the tunnel, and then swam for all I was worth. I didn't know how long that passage might be, for I suspected that the creatures that regularly used it, while air breathers, were able to remain submerged for a long time. It was certain that they were far better designed for life under the water than I was. It wasn't long before I was wishing that I had taken off my boots.

As luck would have it, the tunnel went only about fifty feet before it opened into a great subterranean chamber filled with air. The air was warm but seemingly fresh, so there must have been some ventilation from somewhere. I don't know how this could be possible, as a vent to the outside air should cause the water from the river to flood the chamber, but then I'm no engineer, and at the time I had other concerns on my mind.

If this had been a T.V. adventure show, I would have found a nice ledge beside the water, on which to lift myself out onto dry land. As it was, sharp, craggy rocks, jutting from the water's surface were the only exit from the water, and by the time I had cleared myself of them and landed in a patch of spongy mud on the other side, my hands had been scraped and cut into a bloody mess. I was now glad that I had not left my boots on the bank of the river when I had jumped in.

The sloppy ooze beyond the jagged rocks filled the rest of the chamber, and I realized as I was examining this, that I could see pretty well. Even though there was no artificial light, the sunlight streaming into the chamber through the channel of water from which I had emerged, provided substantial illumination. The chamber had two exits, neither of which I could use without getting myself completely covered in the disgusting muck, and since such was the case, it didn’t make much difference which of the two I chose. I took the left one.

I slopped along through the muddy passageway, constantly on guard against more of the frogmen. The slimy burrow was only about forty feet long, and opened into a large, roughly round room with no other exits. I turned around to retrace my steps just in time to find three more of the Bloobnoob sneaking up behind me. Again I made quick work of them, and I wondered that they were considered so dangerous, when I myself had now dispatched half a score. Back down the hallway I went, now completely covered with greenish black mud and blackish red gore. I turned to my left and headed down the remaining corridor. It was about twice as long as my first choice had been. The destination in this case was a smaller chamber, but I was rewarded by finding Noriandara Remontar. She was being held down upon her back in the center of the room by five of the amphibians, and they had their hands full too. Standing above the beautiful Amatharian was a sixth creature, which held a stone bowl about twelve inches in diameter above his head. I couldn’t tell what kind of sinister plan was intended by the fiends, but the entire scene was far too reminiscent of a ritual killing for my tastes. I launched myself across the room, throwing my shoulder into the creature with the bowl. Letting out a groan as all of his air left his body, the slimy thing fell to the ground, kicking about in the mud. The others let go of Noriandara Remontar to turn their attention to me. This was a major mistake on their part. By the time they had all faced me; their former captive had regained her feet, and planted her right fist into the spine of one frogman, and her left boot into the spine of another. When the others turned to see what was going on behind, I began lopping off their heads. Only one had time to even try to escape, and he got no more than a single step away before I cut him completely in two.

“Not the brightest things,” the Princess commented, reaching to retrieve her sword from my scabbard. Suddenly the chamber began to swim around, and I lost my footing. I fell into the mud and the blood on the chamber floor. I was folded over by a spasm of convulsive vomiting which lasted almost a minute. When I could open my eyes, I saw the Amatharian princess looking down at me as she sheathed her sword.