                        Vance Moore
                        "Prophecy"
      
   (Magic: the Gathering. Masquerade cycle. Book III.)

                        Chapter 1

    "Where in the nine hells is everyone?" Haddad muttered 
as the small group of men and wagons tramped through the 
night. "Are we lost again?" His feet disturbed a mound of 
stones collected at the bottom of the crumbling hillside. 
The land seemed dead. Successive seasons of cold and heat 
had shattered rock and piled scree everywhere. The road 
was deep and cut wide, but the rock faces sloughed debris 
every day and covered the road or ate at its base. It was 
too cold for insects, and the column of marching men cut 
sharp shadows in the moonlight. Within hours the sun would 
rise and sear everything. It was a land of no good 
seasons.
    "Quiet, Haddad!" Natal murmured. "I'm sure the 
sergeant knows where he's going." Natal stamped his feet 
to warm them in the night air. "Anyway, the last thing he 
wants to hear is you."
    Both men were soldiers in the Jamuraan Kipamu League 
of Annies. The League had been named after Lord Kipamu, a 
legendary figure who was credited with many important 
military victories on the old-time frontiers of Jamuraa. 
Dead for centuries, if not millennia, the lord's name 
still commanded respect all over the continent.
    Haddad nodded and shivered as he hugged his coat more 
tightly. He was wearing most of the clothing he owned. 
Haddad tried to tuck his hands into his sleeves but 
flailed his arms for balance on the uncertain footing. The 
noise of others stumbling over rock was overpowered by the 
sound of the wagon wheels crunching and sliding over the 
broken roadway. Sergeant Atul signaled a halt, and Haddad 
relayed the order down the line.
    The chill breeze heralding the dawn cut through the 
men. None of the soldiers spoke, though chattering teeth 
sounded. Many moved closer to the wagons, holding their 
hands against the warm sides of the oxen. Natal edged 
closer to the animals, and Haddad shifted to give his 
comrade room. The friends were several yards away from 
Sergeant Atul as he conferred with the more experienced 
soldiers. False dawn began to reveal details of the 
landscape.
    "I wonder if they know where we are?" Haddad 
questioned again. The sergeant's ears were sharper than 
anyone had suspected.
    "You two quiet down. Check the oxen and wagons now." 
Sergeant Atul spoke with no perceptible malice, but the 
pair instantly started inspecting the condition of the 
draft beasts and the wagons. Haddad and Natal split and 
went down opposite sides of the line, checking the cargo 
and the beasts. They peered uncertainly into the dim 
light, hoping no problems would be found.
    The sergeant continued to converse with the other 
veteran soldiers. Bad luck and poor communications had 
delayed the unit's departure far longer than anyone 
planned. Unsure of the road, the technical unit had set 
out into the wilderness. The combat troops were far ahead, 
and most of the unit wondered if they could find them.
    The Kipamu League's punitive strike had left at its 
best speed in response to rumors of a Keldon raiding 
party. The barbarians were supposedly encamped only miles 
away, resting their beasts before returning to their base 
across the desolate plain. The Keldons were warriors and 
slave takers. They had swept over the world in ages past, 
though it had been decades since any League city had 
suffered a serious attack. Now the Keldons were once again 
raiding Jamuraa, and the League was eager to test its 
strength. Friendly forces had failed to catch the raiders 
during the past three incursions. The lack of success 
against raiders was a source of embarrassment to the army 
and the League leaders. Some civilians said that the army 
was scared to attack figures from childhood nightmares. 
The news that a target might still be within striking 
distance of the Kipamu barrack provoked an immediate 
response. A force of war machines and mounted infantry was 
dispatched. The mechanical forces were steel ants, the 
weakest and most common element in the Kipamu arsenal. 
However, the high speed of the waist-high metal insectoids 
made them the quickest force the army could field. 
Besides, the commanders said the low quality of their foes 
presented no real challenge to the League, just Keldon 
trash raiding small farms.
    Haddad wondered if bravado ruled the army now. Seeking 
to crush their own fears, the combat troops had raced out 
into the field. The need for speed left the support troops 
exposed and without escort as they followed, chivvying 
their plodding oxen into the cold darkness. The support 
troopers carried supplies and maintenance equipment, but 
as noncombat troops they had none of the rashness burning 
in the commanders who raced to fight. The veterans looked 
for machines or cavalry for protection, but they found 
none. Sergeant Atul had said if he had a choice between 
shivering naked with a proper column of security or 
maintaining the current situation, he would risk 
frostbite.
    "Natal!" Atul called, "come here."
    Haddad followed his friend forward as the sergeant 
sent two veterans to the rear of the column. Haddad 
noticed each of them looked more calm and ready than he 
felt. Perhaps it was only his youth making him so nervous. 
Things couldn't be as bad as he feared. Haddad slung his 
launcher off his shoulder where he usually carried it. The 
sling was too short to quickly shrug off, and whenever he 
was nervous he carried it ready to fire.
    The sergeant looked at the friends but did not comment 
on Haddad trailing along. There were several other men 
gathered around, looking like they were awaiting orders.
    "Natal, you and Corporal Vanosh will advance ahead of 
the group until you find the combat troops or some sign of 
the enemy. If you catch the rear guard, ask for a security 
detail to return with you. If you find the enemy, fall 
back to here. Natal, you're on point. Advance rapidly but 
with care. Vanosh, trail Natal at a distance, and if 
necessary, fall back with news." The sergeant looked into 
Natal's face and looked satisfied at the young man's 
expression of determination and anxiety. "Just remember 
that returning with information is more important than 
being a hero. What are you carrying?" Atul gestured to the 
launcher Natal was carrying.
    "Web round, Sergeant." Many men carried heavy weapons 
in addition to their military short swords, leaving their 
shields on the wagons. These wilderness lands were said to 
hold the parea, giant carnivorous birds that commonly 
attacked men. The birds were land bound but swifter than 
horses, which they could chase down and dismember. The 
launcher Natal carried had originally been developed to 
allow infantry to stand off lesser war machines. The web 
round would ensnare a steel ant and could stop a charging 
bird with ease, especially with the wide arc a web round 
covered.
    "Haddad, what are you carrying?" Sergeant Atul looked 
pensive and fingered the hilt of his sword unconsciously.
    "War rocket, Sergeant," Haddad replied. The rocket 
could cripple medium machines if used with skill and 
reflected Haddad's confidence in his marksmanship.
    "Switch with Natal." Haddad slowly handed over his 
weapon and accepted Natal's. His friend looked even more 
apprehensive as he exchanged weapons. The sergeant waved 
Natal and the corporal forward and then turned around. 
Atul looked at the wagons stacked with parts for machines 
that might need repair after the Keldon raiders were 
defeated.
    "Haddad, I want you to find reloads for the men with 
launchers and tell the drivers to keep their personal 
weapons ready for dismount. We'll pull out in five 
minutes." The sergeant pulled a sack of wine from his belt 
and took a shallow draft before handing it to Haddad. The 
wine tasted terrible but still cut through the cold dust 
coating Haddad's tongue.
    Natal and the corporal disappearedfrom sight as he 
handed back the wine. Haddad wondered what else might be 
lurking ahead.
    "Natal hasn't trained much with rockets, Sergeant." 
Fear and concern for his friend made him talkative.
    Natal's purpose is to find the combat troops or warn 
us of the enemy. If he has to fire he is most likely going 
to die. With the rocket he will at least die loudly and 
warn the rest of us," Atul said without looking atHaddad. 
"Find the reloads," he continued, I'll speak to the 
drivers myself."
    Haddad turned numbly as he watched Atul speaking to 
the drivers. The wind was cold, but Atul's words were 
colder. Natal might die, and Atul only wanted it to be 
noisy-a few minutes' warning at best. Haddad started back 
to check the wagons as Atul instructed. He wondered what 
his own life was worth in the sergeant's estimation. The 
column advanced once again. Haddad went quickly from wagon 
to wagon, quizzing the drivers and searching the cargo for 
heavy-weapon reloads. He found none.
    The machines making up the strike force were the 
lightest in the League arsenal. The commanders had not 
loaded the ants' direct fire weapons. The League was still 
largely made up of mercenaries from the city wars ended 
only a few years before. Each city of the League had seen 
to its own defense and conducted small, stylized wars with 
other cities over resources, trade, or even honor. The 
wars depended heavily on paid mercenaries who fought 
according to a code of strictly limited warfare. Damaged 
machines and dead men were viewed as too costly. Heavy 
weapons were rarely used due to their fairly substantial 
costs, the damage they did to enemies who might be future 
allies, and the destruction of loot on the battlefield. 
Heavy weapons such as war rockets, toxic web rounds, and 
penetrating bolts were rarely used without desperation on 
the part of opposing forces. The current League commander 
did not consider a battle with the Keldon raiders as 
desperate. There were no reloads to be found in the 
wagons, just logistical supplies for infantry and modular 
repair parts for the steel ants.
    Natal and Corporal Vanosh returned as Haddad looked 
through the last wagon; it had taken longer than he 
planned due to the poor light. The sun finished rising 
over the hillside as he hurried forward to report to the 
sergeant. He arrived in time to hear Corporal Vanosh 
speak.
    "We found the rear guard, Sergeant. It's about forty 
minutes ahead with these oxen. The main attack has already 
commenced. The officer in charge said to advance with best 
speed to the main party. He was staying there to pull down 
stragglers fleeing the fight. He couldn't guarantee we 
wouldn't see warriors that eluded him. We observed three 
Keldon outliers pulled down before we hurried back here." 
Vanosh was calm as he spoke, but Natal was flushed and 
looked slightly nauseated.
    The sergeant was silent and only turned to Haddad for 
his report.
    "No reloads for personal launchers, Sergeant. I did 
find a few light crossbow bolts," Haddad stated. Sergeant 
Atul took only a few seconds to finish thinking.
    "All wagons will advance at maximum speed. Keep your 
eyes open for Keldons trying to escape. If a large group 
is spotted, be prepared to stop and get into fighting 
formation. Spread it down the line," Atul ordered, and he 
waved the unit forward as Vanosh went back to spread the 
word. Haddad and Natal came together as the unit advanced 
at best speed.
    "What did you see?" Haddad asked quietly.
    "We walked maybe thirty minutes before we found the 
rear guard. Vanosh trailed me far enough back that I 
couldn't see him most of the time. Besides, he ordered me 
not to look back. I almost wept with joy when we finally 
spotted our forces." Natal paused and continued in a more 
controlled tone. "Vanosh hurried up, and we reported. When 
the first Keldon got pulled down, I thought I'd vomit. 
I've never seen a man killed by a steel ant before." Natal 
was too young to remember even the stylized fighting the 
League had practiced as unification occurred. "The Keldon 
was mounted on a camel and trying to circle around the 
force when he was spotted. The commander of the detachment 
sent out a pair of ants to stop him. They ran down the 
camel in seconds. The Keldon tried to run up the side of a 
hill, but it was unstable, and he made little headway." 
Natal became lost in remembrance of the scene and spoke 
more intently. "The ants rushed up with their legs 
churning out a stream of soil and small rocks. One of them 
pulled down the camel by shearing off a leg. The camel 
fell instantly, and the ant was at its neck as soon as it 
hit the ground. The Keldon kicked out of the saddle in 
time, and he was on his feet when the second ant hit him. 
He was trying to draw a sword, and you could see the ant 
take the arm off. He screamed and threw himself down the 
slope. The ant followed and caught him before he fell very 
far. It stabbed him with its legs and started dismembering 
him before they stopped sliding. You could see parts 
separating as they were ripped off. I never want to see 
anything like that again." Natal was shaking as he 
finished.
    "It looks like any future fighting is going to be 
against the Keldons, Natal. The age of machines fighting 
machines has ended. The enemy is men only now. More of the 
fighting is going to be men against men. The Keldons raid 
too widely, and there are only so many machines." Haddad 
echoed the words of the pessimistic veterans. "You chose 
better than you knew when you went into the technical 
service. The infantry and cavalry are going to be fighting 
in the field, not sitting in garrison. When the real 
battles begin, we'll be in camp most of the time." His 
words were not those of a hero, but the earlier mercenary 
view of combat still was prevalent in the army. Combat was 
something you prepared for, but fighting was too dangerous 
and expensive to be eagerly sought. New recruits and new 
battles were changing the military, and Haddad knew he 
would be increasingly out of step with the mutable army.
    "Hey, Haddad," Natal called, jarring his friend from 
his thoughts. "We've arrived."
    The bodies of Keldons slain by the rear guard were 
clearly visible on the sides of the hills. Haddad thought 
there were less than ten killed, but it was hard to be 
sure. The Keldons had been dismembered and scattered by 
steel ants, and he closed his eyes several times as he 
tried to get an accurate count. Sergeant Atul motioned the 
wagons to stay put, and he collected an advance party. The 
column was surrounded by rises just steep enough to block 
the men's sight and limit mobility. Haddad could see the 
trail of disturbance the League assault forces left as 
they scrambled over the loose ground. He could hear what 
might be combat in the distance. It sounded as if there 
was fighting over the short rise before them. But noise 
could carry a long distance, and Sergeant Atul wanted a 
look before advancing blindly. Everyone climbed very 
slowly up the slope.
    The sergeant crouched as he reached the crest, and the 
others did as well. The scene before them was so 
unexpected that they looked for several seconds in 
confusion. Slowly they began to realize what had happened. 
The
    League assault forces, so confidently thrown against 
the foe, had been defeated.
    The steel ants, so deadly under Natal's eyes, were 
scattered pieces, dismembered as crudely and sloppily as 
the Keldons Haddad had tried to count minutes before.
    Still stunned, Haddad voiced his first thought, "We'll 
never fix everything with what we brought."
    Natal nodded dumbly as Corporal Vanosh crabbed quickly 
over and whispered in Haddad's ear. "Shut your mouth, or 
I'll open your throat." The corporal had a knife in his 
hand, and Haddad realized the stupidity of saying anything 
aloud.
    Soldiers picked over the battlefield, and Haddad 
realized he was seeing the enemy for the first time. From 
this distance, and with the sun behind them, it was 
difficult to make out details. The soldiers seemed very 
large compared to the League bodies scattered over the 
field, but perhaps the dead looked smaller when compared 
to the living. The figures were odd in proportions, and he 
could hear their voices, deep and guttural as they turned 
over and searched the pockets and wallets of the dead. 
Haddad grasped his launcher more tightly and wished he had 
the longer ranged war rocket load instead of Natal's web 
round. He looked to the sergeant for orders, but Atul 
stared beyond the debris below and farther on. Haddad 
followed Atul's gaze and saw the raiders' camp. Even from 
this distance, he could see League prisoners gathered 
under Keldon guard. There were huge machines of some type 
and only a few men with mounts of horses or camels. There 
were far fewer men than Haddad would have thought possible 
to overcome the League men and machines. Atul motioned 
everyone to withdraw. They slid down the slope, each 
trying to be silent and cringing at the odd word or oxen 
low from the supply group.
    The sergeant whispered instructions even as Corporal 
Vanosh raced back up the line of wagons to start the 
retreat.
    "The Keldons must be out looking for other League 
forces-there are just too few otherwise." He turned and 
addressed Haddad and Natal. "When we withdraw you two will 
keep your attention to the rear. Be prepared to sound the 
alarm, but stay quiet unless you clearly spot the enemy 
and he spots you. No unnecessary noise." Sergeant Atul 
gestured emphatically even as his voice remained at a 
whisper. But even as he attempted to salvage the 
situation, a loud cry of alarm sounded up the line.
    "Raiders, Sergeant!" The corporal was coming back from 
the rear at a run. Drivers were on the ground and 
preparing for battle.
    Sergeant Atul cursed. "Come on men! We'll see them 
off!" He grabbed two drivers. "Get water bags and 
blankets," he whispered. "We'll run if we can." The 
drivers dived into the rear of the wagons and began 
slinging out water bottles for after the fight. Haddad and 
Natal followed Atul as he reached the last wagon. They 
followed someone who knew what he was doing even as they 
left one point of the column exposed to attack. The 
corporal was up in a driver's seat, moving the wagon to 
the side to start a wall. One other driver was also moving 
his team, but the Keldons were advancing, a troop on 
camels closing fast.
    The attackers seemed giants as they deployed. Each was 
larger than anyone in Haddad's company, and their heavy 
armor and decorations made them larger still. At this 
close range, the Keldons were even more fearsome looking, 
and their skin was ashen and faded. Each was yelling, and 
the sound seemed loud enough for thousands instead of the 
company that Haddad saw. Haddad's heart pounded, and he 
was short of breath as he neared the back of the column. 
He wanted to run, and determined not to be a coward, he 
ran toward the enemy. Each step brought the Keldons 
closer, and each Keldon shout made him more afraid. The 
mounted warriors brandished swords and axes, and now their 
shouts were one voice, battering at his morale and the 
morale of the supply column.
    "Shoot when you can," Atul cried as he grabbed a 
shield from the back of a wagon. The League soldiers 
formed into clumps, and swords sprouted like weeds as each 
man cursed his luck. Natal danced around an ox and looked 
for a target. His launcher rose to his shoulder, and he 
fired the war rocket Haddad had given him.
    It flew in a flat arc and hit the shoulder of a camel. 
The rocket's charge shattered the animal's side and 
removed the gray-skinned raider's leg in a bright flash. 
Haddad could hear the sudden amputee cursing as he and the 
camel separated, breaking up the Keldon line. As if Natal 
had ordered it, men with launchers let loose other rockets 
and darts. The Keldon charge was a mass of screaming 
animals and men, but the warriors swung wide and up the 
slopes on either side of the wagons. The deaths disrupted 
the Keldon battle cries, but every warrior was roaring. 
The League soldiers sent up a few cries of their own, but 
fear rather than rage sounded from the men around the 
wagons. Haddad and a few others had not fired, the web 
rounds being point-blank weapons. The enemy jockeyed for 
position to sweep down over the League. Many Keldons 
dismounted and gripped axes and shields. Behind Haddad, on 
the other side of the wagons, he could hear shouts. He 
glanced over his shoulder and saw the biggest of the 
raiders calling and signaling. This Keldon must have been 
near seven feet tall, cursing and yelling in a pall of 
smoke. Haddad barely had time to wonder where the fire was 
when the split Keldon forces descended upon the column.
    Haddad spun on the nearest Keldon raider and fired his 
launcher. The round webbed the rider to his camel. Haddad 
could hear curses that rose to a shout as the camel went 
down heavily, whipping the rider into the ground. Gear 
shot off the body, and the Keldon's helmet skipped down 
the slope, finally hitting a wagon. The struggling animal 
and its attached corpse slid down the gentle slope to 
snare another Keldon mount. The rider of the second animal 
jumped free in time to avoid being trapped. The now 
standing Keldon wasted no time. He ran at Haddad, 
screaming a war cry, a long sword in his left hand. Haddad 
threw the launcher at the man hard. The raider batted it 
away but stumbled in mid-charge. Haddad drew his short 
sword, knowing the warrior would bowl him over.
    Then Natal stepped forward, and Haddad remembered he 
wasn't alone in this fight. His friend picked up a shield 
and tried to push the Keldon away. The barbarian 
overtopped Natal by at least a foot and was in full armor, 
spikes, and studs of metal. The taller warrior swung his 
sword up and hammered it down. The blade screamed as it 
tore through Natal's metal shield and sank deep into his 
torso. His eyes rolled and blood flowed from his mouth as 
he tried to speak. The Keldon's blow had been too 
powerful, and his blade was now stuck inside Haddad's 
friend.
    The Keldon swore as he tried to haul his blade free 
from Natal, his eyes wild and inhuman against the ashy 
skin. Haddad swung his sword at that face, committing 
everything to this one strike. His blade rang as it hit an 
armored shoulder and then skidded under the rim of the 
man's helmet, sinking into his neck. Even mortally wounded 
by the blow, the Keldon turned and struck Haddad with a 
gauntleted fist, the studs tearing a line of agony across 
the League soldier's scalp, right over the eyes. Blood 
poured down, and the pain and shock took him off his feet. 
Haddad could still hear the cries of other soldiers around 
him as he worked the blade free of the Keldon's neck and 
tried vainly to clear his eyes, to rejoin the battle. He 
pushed himself off the bodies of his friend and his 
friend's killer. The shouts of his comrades were falling 
silent as he struggled to stand.
    The Keldons held the field, and the fighting revolved 
around one wagon, squatting under the heavy load of 
supplies it carried. The oxen lay dead in their traces. 
Atul's voice was falsetto against the cries of the Keldons 
as he and a few others fought on. Spears licked out from 
under the wagon as the last League soldiers fought like 
animals trapped in a den. The Keldons laughed now and 
threw rocks under the wagon. Another gray warrior cut 
heads from corpses and hurled them at the trapped 
defenders.
    Haddad saw it all as if very far away as he picked up 
a shield and carefully pulled a sword free from a dead 
Keldon's back. He staggered into a charge at a Keldon who 
ignored him as unworthy sport. The discharge of the 
launcher must have been accidental, Haddad later decided. 
Or perhaps Atul had decided better to kill oneself than be 
dug out like a rat. The charge thumped into the bottom of 
the overloaded wagon and ignited hidden rockets buried 
there.
    Accidentally or on purpose, the blast killed the 
defenders, and Haddad was knocked spinning as a piece of 
someone smacked into his shield. The Keldons close to the 
wagon screamed in rage at their injuries and at being 
robbed of their victory. Supplies that had been hurled 
into the air from the blast soon fell, mostly striking the 
wounded gasping on the ground. Haddad swayed drunkenly, 
turning to face the largest group of Keldons. He hoped to 
die fighting, but his eyes wouldn't focus, and he saw only 
blurs and shadows. A hand swept his helmet off, and then 
there was only pain and darkness as he fell.
    
                        Chapter 2

    Waking up was a long, painful process with no 
beginning and no real end. There was a long period where 
pain and nausea encompassed the totality of Haddad's 
world. Never had he felt such sickness as his body pitched 
and moved against his will. Several times, he could not 
have said how many, the nausea provoked an episode where 
he tried to vomit. Haddad never did, but each bout wiped 
out any progress he made toward reaching normalcy, and 
pain blotted out his sense of time. Finally he mastered 
his illness and tried to call for help. His eyes were 
gummy, and his mouth and throat were dry. It was only 
after he was sitting up and looking at the moving 
landscape that he remembered the Keldon attack, the moment 
he went down. Commands in voices he had never heard 
brought him fully into the present.
    "Slave, that one is too ill for the purpose. Find 
another to use." The voice was gravelly but quiet and with 
a feminine tone. The voice spoke in Haddad's native 
tongue, but the words sounded foreign, as if whoever was 
speaking them hadn't known the language for very long. He 
turned his head slowly to see the speaker. It was a 
Keldon, but this one was different from the warriors he 
had seen charging the line. She was a woman, six feet tall 
and dressed in dyed leathers. The red and orange tones 
were bright and jarring to his eyes. Her features were 
coarse, and her gray skin was wet ash in the shadows of 
the vehicle. She turned and looked at him with eyes rimmed 
with kohl. A hand shoved his head, and his vision clouded 
at the fresh pain. The cursing he heard became shouts of 
anger behind him. A struggle was occurring, and he turned 
to see what was happening. He found a man of his own 
nation crouched by him. The poor state of his clothes and 
the resignation in his body were obvious even to Haddad's 
still blurry vision. This was a man who had been with the 
Keldons far longer than Haddad cared to imagine.
    "Don't look at them directly, boy," the man said as he 
looked off to the left of Haddad's face. Haddad tried to 
see what was happening as the sounds of struggle died 
down. The brightly clad woman was standing in front of a 
League officer restrained by two men. His mouth was 
bleeding, and he bared his teeth in challenge. The Keldon 
smashed his face with her gloves, which were heavy and 
studded. He fell to his knees, and the two men kept his 
head bowed as he began cursing in broken, incoherent 
mutterings.
    "He challenged her with his eyes. Never meet their 
eyes.
    Now she'll make him suffer." All this was delivered by 
the crouching man in a low voice that Haddad strained to 
hear as he looked around.
    He must be in one of the large vehicles he had seen on 
the battlefield, Haddad thought. He was on a long deck 
that stretched maybe sixty feet from end to end. One side 
of the vehicle opened to the outside through several large 
doors, which allowed light inside. The landscape flowed by 
at a fair clip, and Haddad realized motion sickness 
contributed to his nausea. The vehicle he was in was 
packed with League prisoners. The captives were lying 
down, and only a few were not obviously injured or dazed. 
There was only a small group of what must be Keldon 
servants-all raggedly dressed men. They seemed rather 
stoic at the Keldon victory, and Haddad wondered what 
their status really was. Loud horns sounded outside the 
vehicle, and Haddad felt a moment of hope as he imagined 
it signaling the arrival of League forces.
    "Hold his hand still," the alien woman said. Both 
servants rammed the officer's hand to the deck, and Haddad 
wanted to protest, but he couldn't drag a single sound 
from his parched throat. The woman drew back her metal-
shod stave and then slammed it down on the man's fingers. 
The officer inhaled to scream, and he reared his head up, 
staring into her eyes. Before he could voice his pain, the 
stave rose and crushed his other hand. He did not scream 
but seemed to dissolve into the wooden deck. When the 
woman spoke she didn't even sound angry.
    "Over the side with him." She gestured to an opening, 
and the body was flung clear. "Walking speed and a wide 
circle," she called, and the command was relayed by 
others, presumably carrying it to the driver of the craft. 
The passage of landscape slowed, and Haddad became more 
aware of the craft's curious gait. He could see other 
vehicles moving into his line of sight as the craft began 
to turn. The image that sprang to mind was of hermit crabs 
using toy boats as shells. The vehicles were overturned 
hulls in shape with wide doors and windows showing. He 
could see the gray faces of Keldons, in contrast with the 
captives, looking out. The land vehicles were balanced on 
dozens of legs, and the rhythmical sight of them made his 
motion sickness worse as the female Keldon spoke.
    "I am Latulla, and you will obey," she said loudly but 
without any particular emphasis. "I will not be questioned 
or challenged. All other Keldons will receive the same 
obedience and respect, or you will be punished." Haddad 
watched other men being thrown from what he decided to 
call land barges. Some were limp and did not rise. Others 
got up and started collecting themselves.
    "Some of you might be thinking of escape. Try and you 
will be punished, as I punished the slave without respect. 
Even if you should succeed, you will only find death." As 
she finished, Haddad could see groups of something 
breaking into the large circle of moving land barges. The 
timing was too perfect, and he realized he was seeing a 
planned performance and not some impromptu expression of 
rage or cruelty. This was carefully staged, and only his 
weakness and passivity had saved him from a similar fate.
    The land birds of the wastes were now only a legend in 
the civilized cities of the League where Haddad had grown 
up. They had been relegated to the status of monsters of 
fairy tales, spoken of only to scare children. But in the 
wilds of the east, they were the primary danger faced by 
League patrols before the Keldons began raiding. They 
hunted in pairs or small groups, and their presence in a 
district meant panic. All that Haddad knew of the parea, 
called the running death by some, flowed through his mind. 
Then the beasts spread out and fell onto the men stumbling 
on the ground.
    The birds overtook their victims, and when they 
reached the running men, they knocked them down with what 
appeared playful nudges of their beaks. Full-grown men 
fell and tumbled head over heels as a result of those love 
taps. Other birds snapped at flailing limbs and 
dismembered men as neatly and quickly as slaughtered 
chickens in the mess hall. More parea darted in, and 
Haddad wondered where they had all come from. At more than 
five hundred pounds apiece, the surrounding landscape 
couldn't support many of the vicious birds. He coughed and 
spit several times before he could make a sound.
    "It's like a flock of sparrows hunting a field," 
Haddad said. The juxtaposition of that homey memory 
against the hellish scene was grotesque. "Where are they 
all coming from?" He was talking to himself, but the 
crouching slave- that was what he must be-answered him.
    "Every trip they dispose of the troublemakers or the 
dead here. The parea can sprint past a galloping horse and 
run for hours. They come from miles around whenever the 
Keldons enter the wastes. Latulla takes advantage of the 
birds' hunger to shatter the spirits of the captives. I'd 
curse them all if I didn't know I'd end up out there."
    The birds that straggled in found no moving prey and 
fell upon the bodies of the League officers and slaves. 
The unconscious victims mercifully died without seeing 
their devourers. The birds leaped and tore in a 
territorial display to keep other gorging birds away. 
Keldon warriors handled barbed lances to drive away birds 
that might come too near the barges. Another round of 
horns sounded.
    "The lesson is over. Let it never be forgotten," 
Latulla intoned. Haddad knew he would always remember and 
swore vengeance, but he swore it silently and with eyes 
cast down in apparent submission.
    "Into traveling column and trail speed," she called 
and was once again echoed to wherever the control or helm 
was located. The barge straightened out, and Haddad's last 
view of the bloody scene was of the parea snatching meat 
from each other's kills.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad sat morosely against the cavern wall, idly 
turning his mess kit in his hands as he dreamed of the 
next meal. The cave was shallow and dry, the wind blowing 
continuously into its mouth. One of many against a granite 
cliff-side, it was stuffed with League soldiers and 
civilians captured by raiders.
    How long had he been in captivity, Haddad wondered. 
Like his distant slave ancestors, Haddad was cut off from 
time. Each day was the same. It started with sunrise and 
stopped with sunset. Haddad wondered how his forebears 
dealt with the total lack of control. He had no idea what 
would happen to him or when things might change.
    Latulla's barges had stopped within hours of the parea 
feeding. Haddad had stepped into a desolate valley ringed 
by sloping cliffs. The area served as a central collection 
and training point for the Keldons. Each load of humanity 
was dumped into this sewer and into slavery. The task of 
the overseers was to instruct new servants in the Keldon 
language. The turnover among prisoners and their teachers 
was constant. Haddad was sure it was to prevent escapes. 
It was impossible to plan anything or trust anyone as 
people appeared and disappeared without apparent reason. 
There was only one constant-the distribution of the food. 
A slave might have many instructors and sleep in many 
caves, but only one person would issue a captive's 
rations. The chit that Haddad carried continually locked 
in his fist was the only source of food besides the weeds 
growing in the arid soil. Twice a day he reported for food 
and spoke a few words of Keldon. If he showed no 
improvement in speaking, he received nothing. Some slaves 
starved to death as the world looked on-either for failure 
to learn or because they irritated the distributor of the 
food. Haddad had tried sharing rations, but the desperate 
stole what they could, and soon everyone bolted their food 
as soon as possible to avoid theft.
    Goblins, elves, and League soldiers were all thrown 
together, locked in a desperate struggle to learn their 
captors' language. Each day was the same as bewildered 
captives arrived and apathetic slaves left. Haddad 
wondered if all of Jamuraa would be swallowed by similar 
camps.
    "Food call," came a voice from outside the cave.
    The issue of rations motivated all the captives, and 
they rushed out of the caves where they talked with 
Keldon-speaking slaves. Piles of food were set up, and 
Haddad hurried to get into the nearest line.
    "I am very hungry, and I need food so I might serve 
Keld," Haddad said as he reached the head of the line. The 
slave passing out the food nodded and handed him bread.
    "You have learned very quickly," the man said, "but 
continue to concentrate on speaking clearly." Haddad 
thought the threat of starvation centered the mind more 
surely than the slave's compliment. He retreated higher up 
and squatted to eat his ration. Most of the camp was 
congregated around the food, and guards moved in to keep 
order. Haddad could see a clump of new prisoners nearing 
the head of the line. The last load of captives had come 
from the south and brought lizard men and goblins to the 
camp. They were not yet broken by the turnover inside the 
prison. They still had their identities.
    The roar of the lizard men as they fell on the guards 
shocked the camp. Warriors began to retreat as more and 
more prisoners joined in the rush. Keldons rushed from 
throughout the camp as the captives turned on the captors. 
Spear tips tore into the prisoners, but like a stampede, 
the pressure of the ones behind pushed the dying forward, 
tangling weapons.
    "Come on!" cried an elf, and he began running toward 
the camp corrals. "We'll steal mounts and be gone before 
the bastards can put down the riot."
    Haddad followed. The corrals held a few mounts for 
scouts and were at the mouth of the valley. A slim chance 
is enough in this hell, he thought as he ran for the 
horses. A few other prisoners fell in behind him, but most 
of the population was converging on the clumps of 
embattled guards. The corrals grew closer and closer. Then 
the elf leading the run slowed, and Haddad crashed into 
him, both prisoners spilling to the ground. Haddad cursed 
his bleeding scrapes as he started to help his companion 
rise. The elf only shuddered, blood pouring from the arrow 
wound in his chest. Guards stood in front of the corrals, 
one with a bow in hand. The archer and his companions must 
have come from the feed sheds to the side of the corral. 
Haddad watched him pick off one of the prisoners who 
stumbled to a halt as the Keldon guards unsheathed their 
swords.
    Haddad turned and slowly walked away. He headed up 
toward the caves. If the riot pulled more warriors away 
from their stations, a guard post might be abandoned at 
the top of the cliffs. But even as Haddad walked the back 
slope, he could see the attack dying down. The fighting 
retreat of the
    Keldons stopped with the guards pinned back against 
the sheds. The buildings stored gear for the raiding 
parties. Suddenly new figures entered the fight. Axes and 
swords cut through walls to fall upon prisoners. The new 
defenders were red, and the riot began dying, literally. 
Swords sheared men into pieces, and instead of the new 
fighters being buried under bodies, they mounted piles of 
corpses. Crazed captives lost their footing on the blood-
soaked ground. Insane charges momentarily hid the scarlet 
fighters, but steel cleared away the curtain of flesh to 
reveal them anew. Now the prisoners broke and ran for the 
caves. The guards paused to bind up their wounds, and 
their allies all stopped.
    Like machines, Haddad thought, and then the fleeing 
tide of captives was upon him. He ran toward the cliff 
side with the rest. The riot had failed, and who knew what 
the Keldons would do. Haddad moved into the cave and 
crawled onto a high ledge right by the entrance. More 
people poured in, and Haddad wondered if some might die of 
the crush in the back. Finally, the stream of people 
stopped. Haddad slowly got down and looked out the 
entrance. Keldon warriors were spreading out as land 
barges came from outside the camp. Guards began clearing 
out the caves and herding prisoners into the waiting 
transportation. The few supervising slaves that had been 
caught up in the riot called out.
    "What's happening? We're innocent!" The language 
teachers were lost among the rioters. Haddad wondered if 
they would share the fate of their rebellious students.
    "The camp is being cleared out to the main colony," a 
guard called back, blood clotting on his armor.
    Everything was being loaded aboard the barges, Haddad 
realized. As if the bloody riot had been a graduation 
ceremony, the Keldons were shipping the prisoners onward.
    Haddad stepped out of the cave, wondering if it was 
all a trap, if the guards were lulling them forward to 
take their vengeance. But their blows were no different 
from their usual brutality, and Haddad stumbled forward 
with a ringing head and the hope that he was headed 
somewhere better.
    
                        Chapter 3

    Haddad slipped in and out of consciousness. The 
rocking movement of the land barge became hypnotic in its 
lulling power. The guards had distributed food and water 
only minutes after the prisoners boarded. Most were still 
in shock after the riot and had to be forced to eat and 
drink. Haddad tried to have as little as possible, not 
trusting such kindness after so many died. However, the 
barge slaves were old hands in a game Haddad was just 
learning, and they forced food down his throat. The 
provisions must have contained some sort of sedative, for
    Haddad sat and dozed dumbly. By the time he was more 
aware, the main Keldon camp was appearing on the horizon. 
The convoy had traveled through the night and swung toward 
the coast. Haddad looked down to the sea and saw a large 
town, not a temporary camp. There were docks and piers 
stretching out into a bay. There were large ships waiting 
in the sheltered waters for a chance to unload. Small 
boats and rafts were also moored there, and sacks of cargo 
were being unloaded.
    The heavy beat of a pile driver dragged his eyes to 
the construction of a new pier and warehouses. The Keldons 
were here to stay, the construction said. The town was 
much more incomplete. There were houses and what appeared 
to be workshops, but tents and small campsites spread in 
all directions. Systems of pens and feed yards put out an 
odor that fought with the smell of a working port. The 
convoy turned and headed into town. As they advanced, land 
barges peeled off to stop at campsites. Haddad could hear 
shouts from the front as a path was cleared. The slaves 
working outside spared only quick glances at the prisoners 
as they continued their tasks. Each slave slumped a little 
more as the convoy advanced at a walk.
    "A full load of slaves for construction and mining!" 
bellowed a Keldon crewmember to the warriors outside. 
"Their army fell, and we raid their villages at our 
leisure! We're back because we could carry no more!"
    Envy and jealousy colored the angry muttering outside, 
and Haddad memorized the rude gestures directed at the 
boastful warrior. The barge captain walked down to talk to 
Latulla in a forward compartment. He grunted at the 
shouting crewman to shut him up. The cuff as he passed was 
firm but not injurious, just a reminder there was work to 
be done and discipline to be enforced. Latulla left her 
compartment before the captain could reach it. Her clothes 
were visibly finer in quality. She was clad in leathers 
and fabrics of dark red and purple with fur trimming. 
Haddad smothered a laugh. Her color scheme reminded him of 
his favorite clown from childhood, but as she watched the 
slaves and hammered the deck with her cane, Haddad no 
longer found her humorous.
    "Ready the slaves for processing, Captain." Behind 
her, servants were carrying out her possessions. "Save 
this one for me."
    Haddad cried out in pain. Latulla's cane hit him 
before he even noticed her arm move. His face seemed to 
shatter as the flesh screamed in pain.
    "I've marked him for you. Bring him to my house when 
you're finished here." Haddad could barely see, but her 
colors stood out against the bleak background, and he 
watched her exit the craft.
    Haddad lay on his side, his face burning. Even the 
Keldons seemed to pity him, though it may have been a 
pain-inspired delusion. The crew sorted through equipment 
and supplies for unloading. Haddad recognized most of the 
supplies as having been produced by the Kipamu League. 
Arms and armor were inspected and thrown aside with 
disdain. There was more interest in the food and blankets. 
The barge slaves picked at the discard pile, not even 
looking at the weapons as they snatched pieces of gear.
    The barge lurched forward several times then stopped. 
Keldon crew began throwing equipment to the warriors and 
slaves outside with instructions of where to take it. The 
captain observed it all but only stopped the appropriation 
of a few items. Haddad grabbed a skin of water from a 
human passing by. The skin was almost completely empty, 
but each drop that fell on his face stung and then numbed 
the pain. Haddad wondered what he looked like. Where water 
touched, he could feel unbroken skin, but pain swallowed 
every other sensation when he touched dry skin.
    The sides of the barge dropped, forming ramps. Kicks 
and punches from the crew drove the League prisoners down 
and through a gate. At the captain's direction, two slaves 
dragged Haddad out to stand off to the side. The barge 
rested before a walled compound. A crowd of men milled 
within. Prisoners, slaves, and warriors were organizing 
themselves into groups. In the background were barracks, 
but only a few people moved toward the buildings. Most 
prisoners were being questioned only briefly and marched 
out through other gates.
    A man with a bucket of water walked past to the 
Keldons standing guard around the gate. The sun was high 
in the sky, and it beat down on Haddad and the slaves 
holding him. Haddad reached vainly for the ladle in the 
bucket as the man stepped around him.
    "Wait!" said one of the slaves holding Haddad. The 
bucket carrier turned around.
    The slave holding Haddad's left arm waved the man 
back. Haddad's escort had been just a blur off to his 
side, but now he recognized the rough clothes that had 
been a League uniform. There were patches and repairs 
where insignia were torn off. His face was ...
    "Face forward, prisoner," said the man in the tattered 
uniform, and he pushed Haddad's head around with his free 
hand.
    "Give him some water, boy, and throw some on that 
bruise," said the other slave holding Haddad up on the 
right.
    The water carrier took a good look at Haddad and 
gasped. "Is he alive? The whole side of his head is blue-
black! Was he trampled by a barge?" The man's tone showed 
interest in the grisly details of Haddad's injury, but he 
made no move to provide water. "You know only the new 
master is to provide the first water or food. Do you want 
me to get into trouble?"
    Now the slave on Haddad's right took a step forward 
and gripped the water carrier's arm. Haddad was held up by 
the first barge crewman, and his head hung down.
    "He's already been marked for an artificer." The words 
were low and gravelly, with rage evident in every tone. 
"He needs the water now, and you will do as my friend 
says." There were the sounds of a scuffle and a gasp of 
pain from the water carrier as two sets of feet came into 
Haddad's field of view. The dipper cast water into his 
face, and the numbing splash was as shocking as a blow. He 
staggered and crouched even lower. He could see the ladle 
dipping into the bucket as each of his companions drank in 
turn. He was jerked upright, and the water carrier was 
holding the dipper for him. His whole world was that small 
pool of water. Haddad tried for a moment to see his own 
face in a reflection, but a sound of impatience from his 
right prompted a long swallow. It was life and surcease 
that poured down his throat, and he felt human.
    "Next time a barge man calls, you come," ground out 
the right man. The bucket carrier turned and walked toward 
the Keldon guards, shaking his arm and shoulder as if they 
had fallen asleep.
    "Now don't look at us and don't talk." It was the man 
on his right, and Haddad could hear the tension in his 
words.
    Haddad stood on his two feet and was careful to face 
forward. He brushed his face with his hand in a silent 
attempt to elicit more information.
    "Your face was marked by an artificer, boy." Haddad 
dubbed the man Gravel as he considered the man's words. 
"One side of your face is a bruise with her sigil-purple 
and red in a field of black. It will heal very quickly, 
but there is no denying who your new master is until it 
clears."
    "What's happening?" Haddad dropped his head and tried 
to whisper without moving his lips.
    "No talking." Gravel's tones were light, but his grip 
was creating another bruise. The other man, Army now in 
Haddad's mind, spoke.
    "I'm talking to my friend here and not a new slave." 
Army squeezed his arm in emphasis. "Everyone knows a new 
slave cannot receive aid, comfort, or information from us 
until he is inducted into a house or crew." Haddad still 
kept his head low but dropped his hand from his mouth and 
looked into the yard. The slaves were slowly dragging him 
back to the side of the barge so he had a better view and 
they were sure of their backs.
    "Look at the poor bastards," Gravel drawled. "Most of 
them working in construction and mining crews till they 
drop dead of exhaustion."
    "Not like this boy here," Army answered. "Inducted 
into an important household. With any luck he could be 
stuck in the back rooms and only have to deal with other 
slaves instead of a Keldon overseer. If he had any skills, 
he might even receive special status." There was a pause 
as if Gravel and Army were considering his situation.
    "Of course, he could never become a barge crewman," 
Army continued.
    "Absolutely. Why, only a trusted slave can get barge 
duty with its freedom of movement, the chance for escape 
or sabotage on long patrol," replied Gravel. "A barge man 
could possibly even murder a Keldon warrior, if he was 
fast enough."
    "Only a 'good' record would give a slave such a 
chance," Army answered. "Plotting any act of rebellion is 
so difficult. What with the loyalty of the slaves from 
Keld and the chance that a slave born on this continent 
would trade in his countrymen for a little luxury."
    "How could any slave conspire to escape or do injury?" 
Gravel questioned sarcastically.
    "Well, he would have to try talking to virgin meat 
captured recently and be careful never to say anything too 
inflammatory," Army reflected.
    "Keep his identity and face secret?" Gravel wondered.
    "Yes, friend," Army paused for a moment. "Of course, 
one might wonder why anyone would be so foolish to 
contemplate resistance at all. Especially when anyone can 
betray you."
    "To do nothing is to betray yourself," Gravel hissed.
    Haddad realized the chance the two men were taking. He 
was marked for special consideration, and they stood in 
considerable danger. But since he had survived the first 
weeding out on the plains, he was probably more subtle in 
rebellion than the soldiers devoured by birds.
    "Greetings, warrior," Army said loudly. "We are to 
take this slave to the Artificer Latulla's household. We 
are waiting for escort."
    "A few minutes more, slave." The Keldon warrior loomed 
before Haddad. His helmet and armor were black in the sun, 
and Haddad could smell leather as sweat and water ran down 
the warrior's uniform. A canteen swung on the warrior's 
belt, wet from being refilled in the water-carrier's 
bucket.
    "Malk!" the warrior bellowed. Another Keldon, yards 
away, turned from an unloading barge. At the shouter's 
gesture, Malk came striding over, the butt of his spear 
leading the way as he shoved slaves aside. His exit left a 
gap in the line that slowly closed as warriors shuffled 
into new positions. This reorganization opened another 
hole in the guard line, and a woman threw herself through 
the gap.
    She was fair and blonde and might have been pretty 
without the fear distorting her features. The line of 
women that Haddad could now see was screened from sight as 
additional warriors moved into position. The Keldon who 
let the woman through turned to follow, rage at being 
outwitted plain on his features. The angry warrior would 
not have caught her except the woman bounced off slaves 
and then tripped, sprawling to the ground. The slaves, 
such a formidable barrier to the woman, parted 
instantaneously before the angry Keldon following her. The 
warrior stooped to haul the woman to her feet, but she 
flailed with such energy that he could not get a grip. The 
woman scooted away, kicking at the Keldon's face, cloth 
tearing as the warrior snatched at her limbs and clothing. 
Haddad wondered how someone so rash had escaped becoming 
meat for the parea.
    "She will bring fierce warriors into the world, Malk," 
the sweating warrior said as Malk arrived and turned to 
see the struggle. The street was a stadium with the 
audience watching a farcical battle. The slaves on the 
street showed nothing, but Haddad could feel their cheers 
for the futile defiance the woman showed. The Keldons 
found the battle amusing as well because the slave was so 
overmatched but still battling a warrior to a stalemate.
    "Perhaps there are still heroes born here," Malk said 
facetiously as he watched the exasperated warrior, bent 
over and pursuing the woman. Haddad was reminded of a 
housewife chasing down a chicken, though the final fate of 
the chicken was a grim counterpoint to the scene in front 
of him.
    The warrior hovering over the woman still couldn't get 
a good grip. Long tattered strands of cloth whipped into 
his face, and the woman's garments tore in his metal 
gauntlets. Laughing warriors surrounded the pair. Haddad 
could see a tight cluster of spear points moving through 
the crowd and approaching the struggle. The Keldon 
warriors moved aside for greater authority as the slaves 
had parted for the warrior trying to capture the fleeing 
woman. Then the guard hit the woman with a closed fist.
    Everything seemed to pause. The woman lay on the 
ground, her body limp as blood poured from a gash the 
gauntlet inflicted. Her face was washed away as blood 
covered her features and pooled on the ground. The 
laughter on the lips of the guards watching the fight 
disappeared in a disbelieving gasp, and then every Keldon-
except the guard kneeling with horror over the injured 
woman-drew and raised weapons.
    "Stop!" The voice was high, and Haddad wondered what 
slave dared speak. The cluster of spear carriers forced 
its way to the woman, and the guard line opened. A Keldon 
woman stood revealed. Smaller than any of the warriors 
around her, she nevertheless dominated the Keldons and 
slaves as surely as a giant. "Care for the girl, now."
    A stretcher team, composed of slaves, was there in 
seconds, and the guards stayed still, tense with 
expectation. Haddad was shocked to see a slave place his 
hand over the kneeling warrior's face and shove him away 
like a bothersome sheep. The slaves applied compresses to 
the woman's head and rushed her away. The warrior who 
injured her hurried to his knees and knelt before the 
woman of his race.
    "Who commands this trash?" the female Keldon demanded, 
gesturing at the kneeling warrior. "I want him before me." 
The attentive guards rushed off to do her bidding as the 
slave woman's blood soaked into the offender's clothes. 
The warrior had knelt directly on the site of the 
struggle, as if trying to erase the evidence. Haddad was 
mystified. With all the casual and deliberate brutality he 
had seen, why should this woman's injury matter?
    "I thank the gods I am not in that squad," Malk said 
quietly as he watched the Keldon warriors searching for 
the commander of the man who incurred such wrath from the 
crowd. The warrior guarding Haddad shook his head in 
agreement.
    "To strike a cradle woman in the presence of a 
midwife. To call down the curse of all women upon him and 
his fellows." Haddad's guard knew some of the warriors 
effected, and it showed in his tone. "All crafts and 
worked goods are turned from them. No luck on the 
battlefield, no chance to sire future warriors until the 
curse is repealed. No provocation is worth that." The 
Keldon spat on the ground in contempt.
    A large Keldon warrior pushed his way through the 
crowd, his finer armor showing high rank. The leader bowed 
his head without word or salutation and stood ready to 
accept whatever the midwife might say.
    "You have failed Keld. One under your command struck a 
future mother because she showed the spirit your 
subordinate so sorely lacks. You will excuse yourself from 
the ranks of warriors and report to the ship bound for 
Keld when you have finished your current business."
    "Yes, Midwife," the commander replied. "I will attend 
you tomorrow."
    The woman spat on the Keldon kneeling in the blood 
while his commanding officer looked on. Rage made the 
commander's face into a demon's mask. The midwife and her 
retainers withdrew, the circle of spears working its way 
back through the crowd.
    The now disgraced leader pointed to the kneeling 
warrior rocking back and forth in silent distress.
    "Hold him and still his tongue." Five warriors 
attached themselves in an instant-one for each limb and 
one gagging the prisoner with leather laces.
    "I strike twice as is my right," the leader half-
screamed, and blows from an armored boot crippled the 
prisoner, crushing the knees and tearing the flesh. Haddad 
could hear a muffled scream of pain as the commander 
gestured for the rest of his unit to approach.
    "In striking a cradle wife this scum struck at Keld, 
at my honor, and at the honor of all his comrades. Return 
the blows that he has inflicted on us all." The 
surrounding warriors converged and began a slow, measured 
barrage of kicks to the body on the ground. Haddad could 
hear individual blows breaking bones as the slaves and the 
two Keldon guards led him away.
    "I almost joined his attack group," the unnamed guard 
said as they walked away.
    "You were lucky to escape that stain," Malk replied, 
jabbing the butt of his spear into the ground as a sign of 
agitation.
    "Still," the other replied, "the commander could have 
tried to keep some honor for his warriors if not himself."
    "You know the saying about midwives," Malk chided. "In 
all but battle they speak loudest. Better to plead and 
bargain tomorrow when her words do not echo. Perhaps some 
of the warriors will be able to serve worthy commanders. 
Anyway, some words are better spoken in privacy." Malk 
tried to surreptitiously wave at Haddad's face and the 
purple and red mark imprinted there. Malk's nervousness 
taught Haddad that he might have some power, even as a 
slave.

                          * * * * *

    The dwelling of Latulla showed Haddad that he was to 
serve an important power. It was another walled compound 
with a large house and outbuildings. The main structure 
was multilevel, and in the entire town only a few 
buildings were equivalently high. The foundation and first 
story were rough-cut stone. There were two more levels of 
windows and balconies facing the gate and the sides of the 
compound. The roof was massive, a huge, steep tent about 
to settle over the entire house. A steep roof was 
necessary where large amounts of snow fell, but Haddad was 
astounded at the waste of materials and labor in building 
such a roof in these warm lowlands. In fact, the entire 
complex was too substantial for the few years that the 
Keldons had been here. Most of the materials did not look 
local except for the stone. How much shipping had been 
dedicated to this construction, Haddad wondered.
    Keldons and slaves stopped at the gatehouse. A richly 
dressed human servant stood between two guards. Over the 
gate hung a round black shield with a single complex 
character of red and purple, an emblem Haddad realized 
must be replicated in the complex bruise on his face.
    "We have brought a slave at the artificer's orders," 
said the Keldon escort, and Gravel and Army threw him down 
before the servant. Barge slaves and warriors left, and 
Haddad was at his new home.
    "I am Briach, chief among Latulla's slaves," he 
intoned. "And while your genuflection is flattering, I 
require only simple courtesy." Haddad drew himself to his 
feet and stood before the gate.
    Briach was tall and pale, dressed in a simple short 
robe of medium quality. His hair was red and freckles 
covered his face, a coloring common to many slaves from 
Keld as Haddad would find out. On his right arm was a 
bronze armband, richly worked with a scattering of stones. 
Threaded through his belt was a short, heavy club. While 
Haddad had seen knives and other possible weapons in the 
hands of slaves, they had all been tools. The club was a 
weapon, and it showed this slave had unusual trust and 
authority in the town.
    "Come with me," Briach commanded, and Haddad moved at 
a half-run to catch up.
    "You have been very fortunate ..." Briach paused, and 
Haddad almost ran into him. "What is your name and 
profession?"
    "I am Haddad, and I am a League soldier," Haddad 
replied, trying to sound proud. "I maintained the war 
machines and fought with honor."
    "Your old life is dead, Haddad," Briach said as he 
continued walking. "Your life is now service to Keld and 
to Artificer Latulla." Briach stopped before the steps of 
the house and gestured widely. "This is your home, and 
here is your loyalty." Briach grasped Haddad's shoulder 
and lightly touched the massive bruise already starting to 
fade. "You are marked, and service is written on your 
soul. You have no family, no nation, no purpose apart from 
Latulla." Briach started walking around the building, out 
of sight of the gates and the guards standing watch at the 
small gatehouse.
    Benches were placed outside the rear of the house, and 
the cackling of chickens sounded from a coop against the 
rear enclosure wall. Haddad and Briach sat down, and 
Haddad said nothing, instead looking at the grounds as a 
prospective battlefield for his freedom.
    "Is it true that in the League, city has fought city?" 
Briach asked.
    "Yes, the cities have battled, though they fought in 
the field rather than on city streets," Haddad replied. In 
the presence of an invasion it was an embarrassing 
historical note.
    "And is it true your fighters may move from army to 
army?" Briach continued. Haddad decided to play along 
rather than educate Briach in the complexities and 
shifting loyalties that in the recent past governed 
military employment.
    "Yes, allegiances change all the time." Of course, 
intercity fighting disappeared with the current Keldon 
incursion.
    "Then you are lucky you have this chance to serve 
Keld." Briach stood and stared north. "The strength of 
Keld will sweep down upon your cities and crush your 
armies. You have been given a precious opportunity to see 
the completion of a great destiny. You are honored to 
serve one of a special class. Artificers create new 
weapons, new engines of destruction. Fired by the 'Heroes' 
Blood' and the will of our warriors, Keld will sweep over 
the world!" Briach's eyes were shining, and Haddad felt 
his gorge rise at the sight of a slave in love with his 
masters. In the League, a military defeat only meant a 
small loss of status or position. Briach was talking about 
the total destruction of Haddad's city, nation, and 
culture. Haddad hoped he died before he wished for such a 
foulness to grow.
    "What do you mean, 'Heroes' Blood'? " Haddad wanted 
Briach to keep talking but couldn't bring himself to agree 
with the chief slave's mad vision.
    "Long ago when the land was newly born, gods and 
heroes stalked the land. Each stood taller and mightier 
than any who walk today." Briach swung and gestured 
westward. "But an evil came into the land and corrupted 
the gods, turning them weak and twisted in hate for all 
living things. They swept over the land, and death flew 
with them in slaughter and disease. The people writhed 
under the feet of their murderers. The gods' betrayal 
festered and poisoned mortal men until they joined the 
forces of darkness."
    Haddad was impressed with Briach's storytelling skills 
but had no idea what the loon was talking about.
    "The Heroes fought against false and treacherous gods. 
The swords of right spilled waves of blood, but each 
victory or stalemate only delayed evil's triumph. The 
Heroes saw all turned against them and sent their people 
fleeing north, telling them millennia must pass before 
they could return home. Those remaining battled without 
any thought of restraint. Every battlefield drank Heroes' 
Blood and the tears of fallen gods. Now evil was besieged 
at every point as men threw themselves against their 
betrayers, smothering and caging fallen gods under piles 
of bodies and then bloody bones. The final battle 
vanquished evil but at the cost of every warrior's life. 
Only the corpses were left in a poisoned land." Briach sat 
down and spoke more quietly.
    "The land was empty for centuries. Time covered every 
victory and defeat, changing the remains of slaughter and 
sacrifice into power waiting to be picked up by the 
children of heroes." Briach's tone turned sour. "But 
escaped slaves came to the empty land and found the blood 
of heroes. They used it to fertilize fields, to power 
wagons and ships to carry cabbages. The scum fed off the 
land left behind by the fathers of Keld. And so the 
Keldons have returned to reclaim their heritage.
    "Each victory, each barrel of tufa, each war manikin 
fed by Heroes' Blood brings all of Keld closer to a holy 
war. Each slave who completes his task brings that day 
closer," Briach exclaimed.
    "The Keldons want to sweep over the world," Haddad 
repeated. "But if what you say is true, then they are 
centuries late in arriving here. Why are they here now?"
    "Because you are stealing the Heroes' Blood!" Briach 
snarled. "The tufa your League pulls from the mines is 
composed of the blood and gore shed by the Heroes and 
their enemies. Each concentration marks the remains of 
battle and power run amok. What you call tufa is the 
matrix holding Heroes' Blood." Briach stood and turned to 
the west.
    "The Kipamu League," he spat, "mines the greatness and 
legacy left to Keld by the ancestors! Heroes' Blood was 
laid down in battle, and your kind uses it to nurture 
crops! We have come to reclaim the inheritance and use it 
for war. Laid down in battle, the Blood will be expended 
in battle!" Briach walked to Haddad and gripped his 
shoulders tightly, as if to force his vision into Haddad's 
body.
    "The Keldons are the chosen people!" Briach frothed. 
"They are a race of heroes drawn from every corner of the 
earth! Only in the last few years have they remembered the 
greatness of their forefathers here! Time and the blood of 
other lands have made the Keldons worthy to rule here and 
every other land! The final days are upon us and we are 
ready to take back the world!"
    Haddad wondered when, exactly, Briach had lost his 
mind. The dead and brutalized League citizens in Haddad's 
memories were the victims of barbarians, not saviors. 
Haddad realized that Briach needed to serve heroes in his 
own mind. The steward was trying to convince himself as 
much as Haddad.
    Briach came back to the present and prodded Haddad 
toward a workshop. "Remember you serve a great people. Now 
Latulla will see you and induct you into the house."
    The workshop was the size of a large barn with a high 
peaked roof, massive logs and great stones forming the 
foundation and the walls. The workshop, even more than the 
house, squatted like an invader on the land. When he 
reached the open doors he found the interior well lit. 
Windows and skylights let the sun shine on the tables and 
benches inside. Haddad had assumed the building would be 
as dark as the magic and rituals he imagined within.
    Instead, there were tables with carefully organized 
apparatus everywhere. Shelves of meticulously labeled 
bottles stood against the walls, and a large dispensary 
could be seen at the back of the shop. Pegs held stools 
and large pieces of gear up off the floor and out of the 
way.
    The second story was an open loft without partitions. 
A rope-powered lift to raise and lower materials from the 
upper floor was to one side. A series of stalls with iron 
locks and cryptic symbols was on the other. Some of the 
stalls were barred with bedding inside. Why would Latulla 
keep prisoners here where they might disturb her work? 
Haddad realized that captives might be at the heart of 
Latulla's work and wondered how long they lasted. Haddad 
wondered if he would die here. His heart nearly stopped as 
he walked past a trough with a body in it. He stopped, 
looking down. It was not a body, he realized with relief, 
but a mechanical model that looked like a man. Haddad 
stared at the clumps of leather and flesh attached to the 
metal skeleton and wondered what purpose it served. Briach 
shoved him forward, stopping his inspection of the "body."
    Latulla stood examining equipment Haddad recognized 
from his unit. She picked up a manual on maintaining war 
machines and turned the pages. The text she only glanced 
at, but the diagrams drew her interest as the two slaves 
stood before her. She closed the book and looked one final 
time at the army emblem on the front cover. The same 
emblem was worked into Haddad's shirt to show his military 
specialty.
    "So you are an expert in the crude abominations of the 
enemy?" she asked.
    Haddad nodded vaguely, unsure of her meaning and his 
expected response. Briach cuffed his head strongly when 
Latulla looked at him.
    "Speak when spoken to. You are in service now." Briach 
sounded as if he wanted to curse in anger.
    "I maintained war machines," Haddad ventured.
    "I may make use of you then." Latulla lifted a plate 
at her side. On it were a crust of bread and a cup of 
wine. "Open your mouth and eat." Latulla stuffed part of 
the bread into his mouth and watch him gnaw off a piece of 
the stale loaf. After several painful chews she poured the 
sour wine into his mouth. He almost gagged.
    "I take you into my house. I provide you nourishment. 
I give you purpose and meaning." Latulla threw the plate 
and cup down as if they were soiled. She turned her back 
to them and went back to examining her loot.
    "Take the dishes away and teach him what I expect. He 
may be called to serve as my aide. Brief him on his 
responsibilities and the punishments for failure." She 
spoke without even contempt, as if Haddad were a dumb 
animal she would need trained.
    You have enrolled a viper, not a beast of burden, 
Latulla, he whispered in the back of his mind as he picked 
up the two pieces of pewter. He and Briach left. Haddad 
talked and asked questions all the way back to the main 
building that night, gathering information to feed his 
treachery.
    
                        Chapter 4

    Barrin looked at the sea. The surface was covered with 
a light chop. The small spots of white foam were the most 
interesting things he had seen for hours. He had arrived 
at Teferi's island expecting to rest after days spent 
traveling. He was instead told that Teferi was out on 
maritime patrol off the mainland. More hours of flight 
before he could finally commence his mission. The gray-
haired wizard rolled his head, stretching his aged limbs 
to ease their stiffness.
    The wings of the ornithopter beat relentlessly as 
Barrin's pilot, Yarbo, followed the homing signal. A 
rangy, athletic man in his twenties, the pilot had 
volunteered to fly for the duration of the wizard's stay 
in Jamuraa. The ground crew at Teferi's base camp was able 
to give Barrin and his pilot a device to find Teferi's 
craft, handing it up as the last of Barrin's cargo was 
unloaded. The lightened machine flew faster and was more 
responsive as it flew over a gray sea.
    Yarbo pointed left and down, signaling he had spotted 
Teferi's vehicle. Barrin waved for the pilot to circle, 
and Yarbo immediately banked. Barrin could now see 
Teferi's craft.
    Teferi and his crew were in a long gondola slung below 
the gasbag of a blimp. The blimp was smaller than the 
dirigibles that flew in Tolaria, but any lighter-than-air 
craft is huge when compared against an ornithopter. The 
blimp was well over five hundred feet long and was a 
mosaic of pastel red and orange hues. Barrin wondered why 
such an abstract color scheme was used as Yarbo began to 
lose more altitude until they were directly across from 
the gondola.
    The gondola was more than a hundred feet long and was 
segmented in several places. Bare metal and more of the 
pastel cloth winked a cryptic code as the lowering sun 
reflected off it and the windows. Barrin could see the 
crew waving through the windows. He also noticed that 
while the crew smiled, the long snouts of launchers at the 
front and the back of the gondola followed the ornithopter 
in its flight. He could feel the magic of the craft, and 
at least one spellcaster was holding power for a possible 
battle. Teferi was involved in a war, and Barrin was here 
to observe it. It seemed a poor reason for a reunion to 
Barrin.
    Yarbo banked the birdlike machine and signaled for 
rendezvous. An agreement came from the blimp. Barrin 
waited for Teferi. If the planeswalker had not been on the 
other craft, getting aboard would have been vastly more 
difficult.
    Barrin patted the thick case slung on his shoulder. He 
had received it when meeting Teferi's intelligence officer 
to coordinate the flight. Though the planeswalker had ways 
of communicating at all times, security and limitations on 
how much information could be cast back to the mainland 
meant a thick stack of documents still needed to be 
physically carried back and forth. Barrin hoped that he 
was carrying good news.
    Barrin felt the surge of energy and a moment of envy 
as Teferi, the planeswalker, appeared before him. The 
increase in weight momentarily interfered with Yarbo's 
control of the craft despite the fact that he was 
expecting it.
    "Hello, Barrin!" Teferi called out as he crouched. The 
noise of the ornithopter's flight diminished as Yarbo cut 
speed to make speaking easier. "How was your trip? Shall I 
get your luggage?" Teferi was smiling, and Barrin smiled 
back. The planeswalker's black-skinned face was youthful 
and jovial compared to the wizard's care-worn visage.
    "It's all back at base, so no tip for you." Barrin 
always enjoyed Teferi's sense of fun in comparison to 
Urza's permanent glower. Teferi proved being a 
planeswalker was not the source of Urza's melancholy and 
lack of people skills. It was only because Urza radiated 
such unrelenting purpose that so many people followed him.
    Teferi crabbed over and laid his hands on Barrin as he 
prepared to leap back to the blimp. Teferi jumped. There 
was a moment of disorientation as Barrin's body changed to 
a different shape in a different dimension. It was a skill 
that was minor to Teferi but a mountain to Barrin. When 
they appeared in the wardroom of the gondola, Barrin's 
entire being exhaled, returning to its familiar form.
    The first thing Barrin noticed was the quiet and 
stability of the craft. There was only a faint drone to 
signal the presence of working machinery. Except for the 
noise and the excellent view, Barrin could have been on 
land or a seagoing ship becalmed.
    "Welcome aboard the Hunter, Barrin," Teferi said as he 
gestured around to the men. The men nodded in greeting but 
kept their stations. "The Hunter is the lead ship of the 
Mushan class. We are trying to build them as large as your 
cargo dirigibles, but we still have a ways to go." 
Teferi's every movement showed pride in the creation of 
the craft. "This is the biggest thing flying in the 
hemisphere until the new Negria class flies next year."
    "It's a fine craft, but how does it do as a combat 
vessel? The Weatherlight would swat this out of the air 
like a gnat, and even an ornithopter would eat you alive. 
There may be a future in cargo and patrolling, but you 
should concentrate your flying efforts on ornithopters." 
Barrin could tell he had ruffled the feathers of an 
enthusiast.
    "Of course the Weatherlight would destroy us. But it 
is the only one of its kind, and it took the power of a 
collapsing plane to charge its engines. Hundreds if not 
thousands of these can be built. Right now the Keldons 
have few if any flyers," Teferi replied. "These blimps are 
not as vulnerable or useless as you contend." Teferi 
turned and waved for Barrin to follow.
    Teferi moved through a partition and gestured in a 
wide circle. "Cargo space and the ability to carry tons of 
it long distances." The shelves and bins were all locked 
tight, each labeled according to its contents. Large 
pieces of equipment were securely webbed down, and seeing 
the stringency of the lashing, Barrin wondered how rough 
the ride could get.
    Teferi pointed to the ceiling. "Up there is the heavy 
machinery which provides the power and much of the passive 
defenses. Enough energy for months of flight."
    Barrin stretched forth his senses. He could feel 
magical energy encased in tanks and drums, and thin lines 
carrying power in several directions. But he also felt the 
balloon and the envelope above him. It was subtle, but the 
same power trapped in the heavy tanks seemed to float in a 
huge, diffuse cloud over him.
    "What exactly are you using the power for?" Barrin 
inquired as he sampled the texture of the energy being 
used.
    "The liquid in the tanks is a concentrate refined from 
tufa and stabilized in a liquid form. Using this power we 
have quickened the fabric making up the envelope, 
balloons, and cabling," Teferi replied. "The material is 
in some sense alive and acts to maintain its own 
integrity. There is an additional benefit in that water is 
misted up into the balloons, and the material separates 
the water into hydrogen and oxygen. The oxygen is vented 
into the atmosphere and the hydrogen is contained to 
inflate the balloons. As you know, the shortage of ballast 
and lifting gas is usually the determining factor in how 
long we can fly. In effect, the water we take on board 
performs a double duty. We can even pump in a fresh supply 
by dangling a long hose. Endurance is enhanced." Teferi's 
eyes shone as he regaled Barrin with the details.
    An airman interrupted Teferi before he could continue. 
"Sir, we have news of enemy craft to the east. 
Communications wants you immediately." Teferi strode to 
the front of the craft and called for a report. Barrin 
followed.
    "The Grey Dove is reporting one Keldon ship so far. 
Their pilot has called for assistance, and we are moving 
to support them." Barrin could feel the blimp vibrating as 
their pilot went to maximum power and altered course.
    "It appears you will have a chance to observe 
operations sooner than I planned. The Grey Dove is a 
Kashan class blimp-smaller than the one we are on now-that 
was coming in from patrol. We are the only ship this far 
east that can support her."
    Barrin looked at the broad expanse of coast on the 
map. He was astounded by the amount of coastline not 
covered by patrols. Teferi picked up on his question 
before it could leave his lips.
    "You obviously haven't gotten the news. The airbase 
that housed the blimps for this area was burned six weeks 
ago. For at least the next year, the east will have 
inadequate coverage." Teferi looked grim as he remembered 
the recent raid.
    "I thought these blimps had endurance." Barrin wanted 
to lighten the mood, but his primary mission was to 
collect information for Urza.
    "The blimps need to rearm and perform maintenance. 
Also the semi-living nature of the fabric requires special 
maintenance facilities, and we don't have means to provide 
this without substantial new construction," Teferi 
explained.
    Their pilot interrupted them. "Blimp sighted. All 
hands to battle stations. Cease hydrogen production. 
Engage all defenses. Communications, what's their status 
and where the hell is the ship they're attacking?" The 
pilot reduced speed, and two men came forward. The whisper 
of power they exuded alerted Barrin that these were combat 
mages, readying themselves for action.
    "The Grey Dove is low on gas and ballast but is 
committing to an attack run. Look forward and starboard 
for the Keldons," the communicator responded, even as he 
continued broadcasting details of what has happening to 
other airships far to the west.
    Barrin picked up a pair of magnifiers and looked for 
the enemy ship. One of the combat mages finished his 
defensive preparations and was looking as well.
    "Try to spot distortion or a patch of mist. The 
Keldons have been hiding from surface forces and masking 
their movements," explained one of the battle mages.
    Barrin leaned forward as a ship congealed on the 
ocean's surface. It was long and low slung. The figurehead 
was a dragon belching painted fire, and he wondered at the 
incongruity of flame cleaving a gray sea. The ship was 
crowded with Keldons, and on the bow there were several 
war engines Barrin did not recognize. A poor place to put 
heavy equipment, thought the old mage. In the front of the 
ship it could unbalance the boat.
    "Doesn't look very impressive, does it? But it's the 
troops on board that are the real threat," the combat mage 
said while preparing for battle. His comments were 
addressed less to Barrin than to the world at large.
    Suddenly one of the engines on the Keldon ship 
discharged high into the air, the projectile a flaming 
mass. It burned so brightly that even when Barrin looked 
away he could see the trajectory's afterimage superimposed 
over his vision.
    "Oh, those swine!" someone in the cabin swore.
    Barrin looked again. The fire had been cast at such a 
high angle, he thought the Grey Dove safe, but at the apex 
of the trajectory the compact ball of fire expanded and 
altered shape. A cloud of fiery green and yellow streamers 
glided down. For every foot they fell, the flaming 
projectiles moved yards closer to the smaller blimp. Then 
the streamers collapsed and rained fire down over the 
pastel envelope. Barrin imagined the crew burning as he 
waited for the explosion-but the explosion never came. The 
envelope was burning, smeared with fire, but the flames 
weren't spreading. In fact, they were starting to slowly 
diminish even as he looked on.
    "Told you the defenses make a difference. The engines 
are spraying a mist that retards combustion. As long as 
the fuel holds out, or they don't lose power, the flames 
should be controllable." Teferi sounded relieved, but he 
immediately turned grim. "The pilot, however, has no 
business being that low over the water. He is going to get 
another volley from that ship if he doesn't break off 
soon."
    While Teferi talked, Barrin shifted his glass from the 
blimp to the ship. The Keldons were moving erratically on 
the deck, and as the Hunter closed, he could detect the 
marshalling of magical power aboard all the craft in the 
area. The Grey Dove began to point down in a shallow dive, 
and Barrin saw ballast being dumped aft. The nose of the 
blimp dipped toward the surface.
    A hail of projectiles poured from under the blimp. 
Dozens of rockets leaped at the ship, leaving ribbons of 
smoke and light as they accelerated to a high velocity. 
Dark vapors poured from braziers on the Keldon ship, 
forming a cloud in front of the attack. If it served a 
defensive purpose, Barrin had no idea what it was. The 
projectiles were not effected at all and beat the water 
into froth as the spikes nailed the sea and part of the 
ship's deck.
    "We'll follow his bombing run and finish what's left," 
the pilot called as he adjusted course to over-fly the 
Keldon ship.
    The Grey Dove dumped bombs, but only four dropped from 
its bays. The smoke from the Keldon ship went black as 
coal as the bombs entered it.
    "The Keldon mages are still working on the ship. 
Either the rocket darts missed or there were a lot of 
mages on board," the pilot reported.
    Barrin's eyes dipped to catch the bombs as they exited 
the cloud of smoke, but the explosives failed to fall 
through. They reappeared after an obvious lag, falling 
farther to the rear than the bombardier had intended. The 
bombs exploded into giant green discs, covering the stem 
of the Keldon vessel. The ship listed to the port side, 
its steering apparently gone and the forces propelling it 
uncontrolled.
    "Grey Dove says its remaining bombs are hung up. They 
will turn to support our attack if they can." The 
attacking blimp was on the right side of the Hunter and 
beginning a turn to follow the larger aerial craft in. The 
bomb doors were still open, and the combination of poor 
aerodynamics and unexpected weight meant the ship was much 
lower than intended.
    Barrin saw the attack, but it was so quick that he was 
unable to respond. The envelope of the smaller blimp was 
smashed and the rigging tangled in an instant. The next 
strike he saw clearly. A drop of water leaped up from the 
sea. It was the size of a bathtub as it smashed the 
gondola into wreckage.
    "Sea archer!" shouted the navigator.
    Barrin could see the monster now. It body was 
reptilian and was at least sixty feet long. Its hide 
gleamed a dull, hideous shade of green with flashes of 
color as it reared out of the water. Its head was long and 
narrowed to an incongruously small mouth. The creature 
circled under the Kashan blimp it had just attacked.
    Barrin could feel the bank as the Hunter turned. The 
monster submerged and then resurfaced, its head questing 
toward the sky. The skull seemed to compress, and the 
monster nearly disappeared at the recoil as another blast 
of water sheared into the Grey Dove. Debris poured from 
the stricken blimp. The rear of the gondola shattered, and 
huge sheets of its envelope spun down into the sea. Three 
crewmen were tumbling toward the water as the airship 
began to rise, the sudden weight loss sending the blimp 
higher. Interior balloons inside the blimp burst, and all 
the lift shifted to the front of the vessel. The nose of 
the blimp jumped toward the sky. More debris and personnel 
fell from the dying craft.
    Teferi shouted, "I'll get-" and disappeared.
    "You would swear the sea beasts are fighting for the 
Keldons," the navigator whispered as the sea archer struck 
at everything falling into the water.
    "The enemy just throws bodies overboard, and monsters 
leave them alone," the pilot replied.
    Teferi had jumped to the debris falling to the water 
and had grabbed a crewman, jumping back to the wardroom. 
Teferi disappeared again as the scream of a rescued man 
filled the cabin. It took a few seconds for the Grey Dove 
crewman to realize he was comparatively safe, and then 
Teferi jumped back with another crewman.
    Barrin tried to find some magical hold on the beast 
but there was none to be found. The sea archer was hunting 
prey for its own reasons.
    The nose gunner of the Hunter turned his launcher and 
sent a stream of rocket darts into the water. The single 
tube began to glow red from the heat, and Barrin could 
hear the man cursing as he corrected his aim. The monster 
lurched as two shots pierced its body. The well-placed 
darts smashed ribs and exploded tissue as they exited the 
other side of the beast.
    Barrin had spread his mental net wide, trying to snare 
the beast from the non-existent Keldon influence. Now he 
threw that net of calling out into the ocean. From miles 
around, sharks answered Barrin's summons, converging on 
the injured beast as a blood slick spread around the 
thrashing body. The water roiled, and the sea archer 
disappeared under the mass of hungry predators.
    "Gunner, aim for the Keldons right now!" the pilot 
screamed into the launcher compartment underneath the 
cabin. The beast's attack and Teferi's ongoing rescue of 
the crew had given the raiders too much time. The Keldon 
ship was only seconds from being under the Hunter's bomb 
bay. Suppression fire was vital. The enemy ship heeled 
hard as someone regained steering and overcorrected.
    Barrin felt the rush of energy even as the men below 
were pitched off their feet by the sudden change in the 
ship's direction. The Keldons fired, and Barrin braced 
himself for a hit as a ball of brilliant fire arched into 
the sky. By design or luck, it struck the Grey Dove. The 
hydrogen in its remaining cells ignited and leaped to the 
heavens in a sheet of flame, then the fuel and remaining 
armaments exploded, and the craft disappeared in a rain of 
fire.
    Teferi appeared, disoriented and dazed, in the command 
cabin, a charred body clutched in his arms-a final 
desperate attempt to save more crew from the doomed ship. 
The crew of the Hunter was shouting and trying to get to 
the planeswalker. Barrin, knowing how tough his friend 
truly was, moved up to the pilot's chair.
    The front gunner was now firing into the Keldon ship, 
stabbing repeatedly around the bow area, searching for an 
enemy mage. The pilot looked at Barrin as he set the bomb 
bays for drop.
    "I don't think we can allow those fellows to live," he 
said softly and tripped the release as they passed over 
the
    Keldons. Barrin could feel each bomb dropping away. He 
was consumed with witnessing every moment of the battle 
and ran to the rear gunner's compartment, the floor 
jumping as the ship raced to the sky. He passed Teferi 
without a glance and levitated over the still crewmen 
rescued from the Grey Dove. He reached the blimp's stern 
and the gunner's station.
    The bombs hit as Barrin peered through the window. 
Five of the projectiles missed, and huge columns of spray 
lifted high into the air. Three of the bombs smashed into 
the ship and plunged through the deck to explode in the 
holds. Then the Keldons' fuel and weapons added their 
power to the holocaust. Gouts of flame flew high into the 
sky, blooming into flowers of twisting fire and color. The 
ship lay hidden behind the smoke and spray. When the scene 
cleared, Barrin could see the Keldon ship had been 
shattered into a spread of floating timbers and bodies. 
Were there any survivors?
    The rear gunner must have thought so, for he aimed and 
fired. This launcher was bulkier than the Hunter's forward 
weapon, and an assistant had to elbow Barrin aside as he 
loaded another shell. The clumps of debris continued to 
spread out as more wreckage and gear sank to the bottom. 
The gunner fired again. The shell exploded into a large 
net that fell to the surface. Barrin watched as a man 
thrashing in the water tried to get on top of a barrel. 
The net covered everything and detonated in a flash. 
Barrin's eyes jerked away, and nothing but fragments 
floated where the Keldon had been.
    "That isn't necessary, Gunner," Barrin said, numb 
after observing the battle. The gunner didn't say a word, 
but the loader inserted another shell into breech. The 
gunner fired the round before answering.
    "We can't rescue them, and nobody is in sight. If I 
had a choice between getting eaten and getting shot, I'd 
take shot." Barrin remembered the small mouth of the sea 
archer and the sharks converging on the area from his 
call. The long-lived mage said nothing as the gunner took 
aim again.
    
                        Chapter 5

    Haddad hated serving as Latulla's aide. Her one 
redeeming feature, in Haddad's eyes, was the small freedom 
she allowed him to leave her presence. As long as he 
performed the tasks she set and averted his eyes downward 
when she looked at him, he could avoid supervision. But 
serving as her aide meant long periods of time in the 
company of Keldons, and that was always dangerous.
    Haddad had learned something about Keldon society. 
There were levels of challenge and dominance. A Keldon did 
not have to meet the eyes of a superior or attack an 
inferior to express the power. Sometimes warriors attacked 
the equipment or a slave of another Keldon. Haddad saw 
servants cuffed, beaten, and even killed to express power 
or belittle a superior without a full challenge. Latulla 
was a master of this technique. With a single well-placed 
blow of her staff, she could lay out a slave for days in 
excruciating pain without permanent harm. It wasn't 
kindness or pity that pulled her blow. An injured slave 
was a constant reminder of her authority and power. An 
inferior Keldon could not afford to kill one of a limited 
number of slaves. Latulla's every cruelty was calculated 
for maximum pain and effect on those involved.
    "We will be taking one of the small land barges today. 
Find the duty crew and instruct them to ready themselves," 
Latulla had directed. A slave who ordered or commanded a 
Keldon warrior always risked death. The fact that Latulla 
could use slaves to carry orders reinforced her authority 
in the camp. It was a delicate balancing act that Haddad 
must perform. Too submissive and Latulla would punish him. 
Too forceful and the barge captain might kill him for 
presumption. As Haddad considered Latulla, he knew he 
would err on the side of arrogance rather than risk her 
displeasure. Besides, it was one of the few chances Haddad 
would get to tweak a Keldon's flat nose and not lose his 
head for it.
    Haddad had seen other sections of the camp since his 
inclusion in Latulla's household but had never ridden one 
of the small barges. The first step was finding where the 
small barges were located. Haddad stopped a slave he 
recognized as a crewman from his apparel and the tools in 
his belt. Barge slaves were allowed instruments that were 
considered weapons in other hands. The sharpened quill or 
hollow awl was sturdy enough to punch through leather 
armor. It pierced seals and drained out the magical elixir 
powering the Keldon barges. It was also used to fill 
reservoirs and refresh fluids quickly with the attachment 
of a simple bulb. He asked directions to the barges and 
their commanders in the extended camp.
    "This morning they've shoved us over toward the 
corrals. The fighting broke out again and disturbed the 
colony." The slave gestured to the empty pack he carried 
over his shoulders. His body was scarred and bruised by 
the casual brutality many of the lowest status Keldons 
expressed, both to reinforce authority and prove their own 
positions. "I'm to bring cheese back, if I can get any. 
There are ships coming in, we heard, and the storehouse 
may be relaxing the rations." The slave stepped off for 
the warehouses.
    Haddad felt a little jealousy as he watched the man 
striding away. What was the man's name? He realized with 
shame he hadn't thought to ask. He was seeing more and 
more signs that life in Latulla's household was changing 
him. The little courtesies were draining away and leaving 
watered down Keldon arrogance. The man had obviously 
suffered more physical abuse than Haddad had, but despite 
his bruises, he was in better spirits. He was happier as a 
worker for the lowest commanders than Haddad was as 
Latulla's voice. Haddad wondered how his own soul would 
fare a year from now as he set off for the small barges.
    Shouting and the odor from livestock pens were 
pervasive when Haddad finally arrived. The warriors here 
appeared only a little different from the slaves working 
on the barges. Haddad spotted the small purple standard 
flying over the overlord's tent. Lord Druik was reclining 
and napping in the surrounding noise. Haddad considered 
the titular commander of the small barge fleet with 
interest and a little wonder. Druik was huge, even for a 
Keldon. Muscles rippled as he stretched a little, his hand 
moving slightly as he dreamed. Druik's entire left side 
was damaged. His arm was missing from the elbow down. A 
hook was strapped on tightly, the straps circling the 
Keldon's chest with studs liberally applied to the harness 
and cup over the stump. The lower leg was likewise 
encased, and there were sheathes for two knives on either 
side above the knee. Haddad wondered why anyone with one 
hand would have weapons in so awkward a location. Druik's 
ribs on his left side were twisted and covered with scars.
    Druik was an anomaly to Haddad. Every Keldon he had 
ever seen held his place by force. Physical contests of 
strength were common even up the line of command. The 
jockeying went on at the highest levels of Keldon society. 
How a crippled warrior held even the ceremonial post of 
small craft commander was a mystery.
    A wave off to the side of the small tent caught 
Haddad's attention. A dainty table with a clerk sitting 
behind it looked over the stockyards and the men hauling 
away dung. As Haddad approached, an especially pungent 
waft of stench set him coughing as the fitful breeze 
turned, putting the tent downwind of the smell. Haddad's 
eyes watered as he stood before what must be the first 
real bureaucrat he had seen since he left the League 
territory. He couldn't believe how happy he was to see a 
petty official.
    "What do you want?" the little man droned as he 
shuffled some papers, suggesting his time was valuable. "I 
don't have all day, you know." The official was looking 
right at him, and Haddad was now more accurately 
remembering the aggravation petty officials could give.
    "The Artificer Latulla commands a small land barge and 
crew be assigned to her convenience immediately for a trip 
to the interior camps. Additionally, I would like to know 
what you are doing here." Haddad could not keep hidden his 
admiration for the small scene of authority any longer.
    The small man smiled widely, his teeth coal black and 
his tongue a grotesque purple. He nudged a desk stool out 
and waved for Haddad to sit. His smile was amazingly ugly, 
but the good humor in it was a tonic to Haddad. He even 
offered Haddad some nuts as refreshment.
    "If you don't mind a smile like mine, these are really 
tasty."
    Haddad only nodded but declined to sample the dish. 
The official was quite tiny and fine featured. His eyes 
appeared to squint in the light, and his skin was pale.
    "My name is Fumash, originally of the Kipamu League 
Customs Service. Captured by long shore raiders as I 
inspected a cargo in harbor." Fumash was pensive, his 
hands slowly touching everything on the table as he spoke. 
"Not to dwell on the past, I arrived as one of the first 
slaves to this lovely port and started at the bottom of 
the bottom. The Keldons had just landed and were setting 
up. The imported slaves thought me above myself, and so I 
ended up here." Haddad looked around at the small comforts 
Fumash arranged for himself, even an awning to be set up 
if the sun grew too strong. Fumash saw his disbelief.
    "Don't be fooled. This is the bottom of the line. The 
Keldons on the other side of this tent have no status and 
fit into no clan or structure. They man small land barges, 
able to carry a few tons of cargo or a small squad of men. 
They are warriors, but they operate in very small groups. 
They are constantly being reassigned to any higher status 
Keldon who needs temporary transportation. They are nearly 
civilians." The hands searching the table found a thin 
sack of wine, and Fumash dumped out the dregs from a cup 
and offered a drink to Haddad.
    "Yes, please." He was grateful for the human gesture. 
Fumash paused in his story, and Haddad realized he should 
savor the wine. "Please continue," Haddad requested after 
a final swallow.
    "Well, you have a large number of Keldons constantly 
changing assignments in very small groups. Of course there 
are a huge number of fights." Fumash shook his head at the 
foibles of his masters. "Every night they tried to fight 
out a new structure, each morning about a quarter of them 
were smashed up with new crews forming and new conflicts 
arising for the next night. I don't know how it was in 
Keld, but here it was a mess. The slaves were even getting 
involved, trying to increase the glory of whoever their 
master was for that day. I wasn't doing very well."
    Haddad had to appreciate the man's sense of humor. Any 
Keldon would dwarf his small frame. In addition, human 
slaves working the vehicles could be rough indeed. But 
many officers curbed excessive discipline and valued the 
loyalty and service that a slave could bring to small 
crews. There was still an ample supply of sadists and 
thugs working at the low end of Keldon society, but a 
master who valued you and considered you more than an 
animal could be found.
    "Eventually they put Druik in command. He was a hero 
in their homeland, you know. He has close ties to several 
commanders and warlords from his younger days, so everyone 
respects him. He might have had high office if he had 
remained on Keld, but he had to leave for some reason. But 
to the common warrior, he has achieved an automatic 
reception of support and loyalty. Even if someone were to 
challenge him, the other Keldons would pull the challenger 
down. Besides, he can still fight fairly well, enough to 
kill most warriors." There was an undertone of fondness 
Fumash soon shook off.
    "Now Druik keeps all the barge crews in stable units. 
The warriors still fight over duties, but there is less 
violence even if the arguments are just as loud. I was 
drafted to keep the records and clerk for Druik. I am also 
the official recorder of bets," Fumash said.
    Haddad had to laugh. "A gamemonger! How could you, a 
slave, ever get the money to cover bets?" Haddad couldn't 
imagine any slave having real power.
    "I record the bets and oversee the gambling the 
warriors do to establish status and decide duty schedules. 
By having them compete against one another, the urge to 
dominate is assuaged, and the loser is willing to accept a 
loss. He knows there is a chance he can win back his place 
tomorrow. The actual loss of warriors and slaves to 
dominance fights are lower than any other section of the 
camp. I also receive some advantage since I record and 
adjust the odds for many of the bets. As a representative 
of Druik, of course." Fumash apparently realized how long 
he had been talking and got back to business. "The land 
barge under Cradow is on service today. He is at the back 
of the field, the figure of a toad on the body and shield 
of his craft. Best you seek him now and ask him to report 
before the artificer grows impatient. Good luck to you." 
With that, Fumash began reorganizing his slates after 
checking off what must be Cradow's craft.
    Somewhat nonplussed by his abrupt dismissal, Haddad 
rose and set the emptied wine cup on the edge of the 
table. He walked to the back of the tent and saw the small 
barges, only three times the length of freight wagons. The 
Keldon warriors were working on their combat gear and 
ordering slaves to do maintenance. He turned one last time 
to look at Fumash and his small table embodying the height 
of human authority that Haddad had seen in the colony. For 
all of the small man's good nature, position, and 
acceptance for his work, Fumash still set up his table so 
he stared at the dung and stench of the stock pens rather 
than the Keldons he served.
    Eventually Haddad found the barge with the toad on its 
upper shield. The Keldons and the slaves looked at him 
with hostility as he called to see the warrior in charge.
    "I'll get Cradow then," a slave said. He walked back 
to the barge and shouted into its hold.
    Cradow was slightly smaller than the average Keldon, 
and he only grunted and muttered something about terrible 
luck as Haddad presented his authority token from Latulla.
    The barges were scattered all over the field in no 
particular order that Haddad could discern. Each crew 
camped in and around their machine. Haddad could see 
arguments and shoving breaking out as crewmen moved 
equipment to stake out their space. The barges were tiny 
castles, and each had its independent army trying to 
conquer as much space as possible. Haddad wondered what it 
looked like before Druik and Fumash "organized" the barge 
crews.
    "Come on up, whelp," Cradow called. "The rest of you 
lot get ready to depart at once."
    Slaves and warriors began breaking down gear and 
throwing it into the barge.
    "Artificers hate to wait," Cradow explained to a 
warrior who was snarling as he did a slave's work in 
moving gear into the barge. The Keldon's comment was a 
common saying, judging from the nods of everyone within 
hearing distance, and Haddad had to agree as he gave 
directions to Latulla's dwelling.

                          * * * * *

    The barge traveled for hours in almost utter silence 
with only occasional orders from Latulla to Cradow. The 
normal chatter and noise of a working crew were swallowed 
up by the silence centered on Latulla. When they began to 
draw near their destination, Haddad felt relief, even if 
the omens heralding their arrival were poor.
    It was the ungodly smell that signaled the camp. 
Haddad had seen massacres and smelled rendering yards, but 
the sheer scale of this stench rose far above any odor he 
had ever encountered. They were traveling down into the 
bowl of a long, stretched-out valley. There should have 
been a lake or a stream exiting toward the sea. Instead 
there was a temporary barn surrounded by a wall of thorns 
and vines. There were animals caught in the spikes and 
tangles of the surrounding barrier, and there were also 
the bodies of slaves and even one Keldon guard trapped in 
the deadly brambles. The dead warrior's head slumped as if 
in sleep, the flesh rotting and tattered from the efforts 
of scavengers. A gate broke the mounds of brush, and 
Cradow directed the vehicle with particular care as they 
entered. A bandaged and filthy Keldon left the darkness of 
the rough structure. He supported himself with a staff as 
he came to meet them.
    "Who comes to the Clinging Bogs?" he intoned as he 
shielded his eyes from the dim sunlight. He leaned on the 
staff and showed none of the vitality Haddad had seen even 
in the most crippled warriors back at the landing.
    "I am the Artificer Latulla, and I come for an 
accounting from the leader of this ... fortress." She 
looked around. There was only a great barn and nothing 
else-no barracks, cookhouses, or latrines. It was just a 
shell surrounded by disgusting mounds of decaying flesh 
and razor vines. "I wonder at the lack of guards. In fact, 
the smell is the only thing the enemies of Keld must fear. 
Where are your warriors?"
    "I am Lord Urit, and my warriors are where they are 
needed." Urit drew himself up a little straighter. He was 
shorter than many of the Keldons whom Haddad had seen.
    His face was gaunt and distorted by heavy brows and a 
massive jaw. His hands were huge, and swollen knuckles 
gripped his ebony staff. Haddad could see fine clothing 
under the mud, and he wondered how a commander could get 
in such a poor state. Urit gestured at the green wood and 
piles of rotting vegetation, his staff dripping as it 
swung to emphasize his words.
    "This is just a way station and doesn't need 
fortification or guards. If enemies ever try to burn it, I 
wish them luck. Only a mage could start a fire that can 
burn in these swamps. If I had more men, perhaps I could 
post a proper guard instead of trusting slaves!" Urit 
reined himself in with difficulty, and the passion that 
had animated his speech drained out of his face and 
posture. Latulla was nonplussed at the near tirade, and 
Haddad wondered how she would react after her anger had 
festered for a while.
    "Certain changes must be made to your vehicle before 
you can continue," Urit announced as slaves opened large 
doors in the central building. "Without new traction 
devices fitted to your barges, you would mire before you 
reached the workings. I can provide some refreshment while 
the changes are made to your machine."
    "I am unfamiliar with the operations out here. I 
thought the pits themselves were some miles farther on." 
Latulla, grim as she was, faded into the background in the 
all-pervasive gloom. "Who oversees the actual diggings?"
    "I am considered master of these bogs, Artificer. If 
any can be called master." He walked farther out to the 
gate. "Don't touch anything on the mounds, and try to walk 
on bare soil or mud."
    Some of the barge slaves drifted closer to the wall of 
greenery and were waved back.
    Lord Urit turned and called to the sheds, "Bring out 
the prisoner. I want to show our guests the strength of 
our 'fortress.' "
    The prisoner was tightly bound hand and foot and 
gagged for good measure. His Keldon guard was forced to 
carry him, and at every step the captive bucked and fought 
with a strength that would have seemed lunatic anywhere 
else. In the poor light and the surrounding desolation, 
the slave's energy seemed almost demonic.
    The guard threw the prisoner down. "Please get rid of 
him now, Lord Urit. I'm sick of him."
    Lord Urit leaned on his staff and shook his head in 
agreement. "Call out everyone. A lesson isn't worth much 
if no one sees it."
    The guard turned to fetch the compound's slaves, and 
Urit reversed his staff and pinned the prisoner down. The 
slave was filthy and foul looking, his features shadowed 
by mud and stained with juices from cut vegetation. The 
mud marked everyone in the camp, and the slaves slowly 
gathering were as dull as the dirt that flecked their 
faces and collected on their clothes. Even the Keldon 
guards seemed lethargic. Lord Urit's stooped demeanor was 
replicated in his guards, and even the promise of a 
punishment excited little Keldon interest. The slave to be 
punished was different in the energy and frenzy of his 
movements. There were ulcers and sores on his limbs, but 
they were distributed all over, and Haddad knew it was 
more than the chains of slavery that had punished his 
body.
    Everyone was out of the shed and formed a rough 
semicircle with Lord Urit at its focus. He leaned on his 
stick hard, and Haddad heard the slave gasp as the haft 
dug into his belly.
    "We are here to punish a slave who would run. He tried 
to cheat the Keldon nation and everyone here of his labor.
    This sin merits death because his despicable act 
effects us all. Without loyalty, without the will to 
endure, we die. His death is more merciful than what he 
wished to inflict upon us." With that Lord Urit bent and 
picked up the slave. He raised him over his head and 
slowly walked toward the gate. He was unsteady, and the 
squirming of the victim threatened to overwhelm him. He 
cast the slave onto the interior slope of the mound with 
great force, and the body sank deep into the piled 
vegetation. It stuck there, and Haddad could hear a faint 
crackle and could see liquid soaking the clothes and limbs 
of the slave. There was a high keening and the body 
vibrated. How any sound could escape the cruel gag was a 
mystery, but Haddad could hear the snapping of bones as 
the tension in the slave's muscles went past the endurance 
of mere mortal flesh. Lord Urit and Latulla watched the 
body until all life left it. Urit watched with weary eyes, 
but Latulla seemed to savor every tremor of pain and muted 
scream. Urit gestured to the body.
    "The vegetation that we piled up is thorny and 
poisonous. The animals of the land avoid it, and I thought 
a mound around the shed would make a fine fence. 
Unfortunately, it has taken root and new plants have begun 
to grow. Some are covered in a sap that grips tighter than 
a vise anything it touches. The other puts forth pods or 
buds filled with poison and seeds. When these touch flesh 
they break, soaking into almost anything and driving 
tendrils throughout the victim's body. I've thrown a chunk 
of firewood and found it rived by fronds in seconds. If we 
could, we would burn it and forget walls altogether, but 
it is too wet to burn and now too dangerous to cut and 
remove. We merely keep the interior of the circle clear, 
and I wonder how much longer that will be possible," Urit 
said, the hate thick on his tongue.
    "Burn it? Something so efficient and elegant in its 
operation? I think you overwrought by your isolation, Lord 
Urit," Latulla said, enraptured by the sheer deadliness of 
the barrier. "I believe these mounds serve your camp 
better than stone or wooden palisades."
    "As I said before, this is not the main camp. The 
barrack and my quarters are located three miles up that 
rise." Urit pointed up the slope of a gentle hill to where 
a muddy trail went up and over the side. "We had to go 
that far to get away from the stench and find ground firm 
enough to build on. I also wanted a well with water I 
could trust."
    "Interesting, but I didn't come here to get a history. 
I came to find out why production is so low. The largest 
concentration of tufa within easy distance of the camp was 
detected here, yet nothing has come out of these bogs 
despite the numbers of guards, slaves, and materials you 
have requested and received." Latulla was calm in her 
delivery, but the threat and anger behind her words was 
clear.
    "I am not sure we will ever get any Heroes' Blood from 
this land of muck." Urit was intense and livelier as he 
defended himself. "As foul and difficult as the land is 
here, it is much worse at the workings. Until you have 
seen them you can understand nothing." Urit gripped his 
staff tighter and met Latulla's eyes directly. "I will 
escort you myself. You will see that whatever your 
desires, the land will not meet them."

                          * * * * *

    Lord Urit said not a word as the modifications to the 
barge were finished. Each leg of the machine now ended in 
a large shoe that reminded Haddad of a pontoon. The slaves 
finished tightening the last few bolts very slowly even 
after seeing the slave's death.
    "We work in a land more treacherous than any enemy's 
heart," Urit explained. "Without additional support the 
barge will bog down even though it was designed for any 
terrain. I often wonder how the Heroes' Blood was laid 
down in this domain of mud. The bravery and power of our 
ancestors was greatest in reaching the battlefield."
    Latulla took exception to this blasphemy. "You forget 
yourself, Urit," she exclaimed. "The Heroes' valor in 
battle is our legacy, not the conquest of a marsh."
    "You will soon see how hard it is to conquer a mere 
marsh," Urit replied. "Like any war, each battle with the 
mud has taught us new tactics-the additional traction 
devices for the barges, new methods of excavation, and 
trying to preserve the warrior spirit in a land that mires 
every step. We are fighting, and no one outside the bogs 
seems to realize how desperate that fight is."
    Urit boarded the barge without permission from Latulla 
but seated himself in an inferior position. However the 
lord of the bogs viewed his challenge to Latulla and her 
ideas, he was playing a balancing act. Haddad couldn't 
read his intentions, but looking at the miserable 
countenances around him, Haddad realized that losing his 
life and position was not a realistic threat to make 
against the grim lord. The odor of rotting animals and 
bodies caught in the razor vine wall faded as they left 
the great shed behind, but the insects grew steadily 
worse, settling on everything like dirt in a dust storm.
    It was only twenty minutes before the barge moved into 
another cloud, this one of stench, of rotting flesh worse 
than the odor from the mounds around the transport shed. 
Cradow stopped the barge at Lord Urit's signal. Haddad got 
his first real look at the work site they had traveled so 
far to see.
    The centerpiece of the site was the system of cranes. 
They loomed over a pit, each resting on pilings and 
pontoons set into what looked like solid ground. Every 
structure reminded Haddad of piers and bridges set over 
water, as if the builders thought the ground might liquefy 
and try to swallow the mining camp at any moment.
    Even as he watched, one of the cranes began to move. 
The network of cables and counterweights jerked into 
motion. The bottom of each crane was connected to a long 
base that extended quite a distance behind the structure. 
A huge upright wheel on struts provided motive power. The 
wheels were very much like the prison wheels Haddad had 
seen illustrated in a manual on power transmission. 
Prisoners were forced to walk and climb for hours inside 
them until legal reforms and better engines ended the 
practice. Haddad was relieved to see each of the crane 
power wheels was connected to a small barge. Latulla was 
also observing the site and tilted her head at the 
innovation.
    "There is always a shortage of slaves," Lord Urit 
explained, "and the wheels went through them too fast. 
Besides, the insects drove the workers crazy when heavy 
lifting was called for. We had heat exhaustion and 
dehydration cases the first day workers were in the wheel. 
I ordered our technician to rig up a power transfer so we 
could use the barges."
    One of the active towers sent a large hook into the 
pit, and Haddad could hear shouting, then the application 
of power. There was a sound of suction being overcome and 
then the load eased. Slowly a large corpse rose out of the 
ground. It was several times the size of an ox. Mud 
dripped and water fell from the carcass as it finished 
rising out of the ground. The cable stopped rising, and 
there was a sound of gears and levers being thrown. Haddad 
lowered his eyes and saw men working inside the base of 
the crane. The cluster of machinery was obviously some 
sort of transmission that transferred the power of the 
wheel to the different cables and gears. Haddad could hear 
the gears engage, and the crane began to turn, swinging 
the animal slowly over to a giant stoneboat with very wide 
skids.
    "That's part of the reason work has been slowed. The 
bog has sucked down creatures of every size for uncounted 
millennia. Some of them weigh tons. They have never 
decayed. We've run into hundreds during our digging."
    "Dig somewhere else, on firmer ground," Latulla 
ordered.
    "Doesn't anyone receive the reports I send?" Lord Urit 
was exasperated and reigned in his temper with difficulty. 
"The ground is too unstable for another place to be 
better. This bog alters ground consistency almost daily. 
What is firm today may run like water tomorrow. In fact, I 
requested additional lumber to lay out walkways at this 
site because of unpredictable ground consistency. This was 
the best place to dig, the artificers themselves said this 
was the closest point to the Heroes' Blood." Lord Urit 
started picking his way to the pit. Latulla and Haddad 
followed.
    The pit was actually walled with heavy planks. The 
instability of the soil forced the Keldons to shore up the 
sides as they dug down. The interior of the pit had 
several spars crisscrossing the interior as it sank. Hoses 
and hauling belts worked to keep water and mud flowing 
out. Haddad could see the corpses of many dead animals, 
entombed centuries ago and now exposed to the air, looking 
almost alive though covered in filth. A huge hog was 
almost completely exposed, and slaves called down a crane 
hook to lift it out. Haddad winced as the crane cable 
began to scream under a load. Latulla suddenly pointed off 
to the side of the pit.
    "What are they doing there?" she demanded in an angry 
voice. She was pointing to a small group of slaves and a 
Keldon overseer that were an island of calm in the 
thrashing, chaotic floor of the giant pit. The group 
seemed centered on a young girl, still splotched with mud 
but almost pristine in comparison to everyone else 
working. She was blonde and pale. She raised up her arms, 
her voice cutting through the pandemonium of the working 
slaves. Latulla tensed as she did when working magic, and 
Haddad wondered what spell she was readying.
    "The pit witch is conducting a ceremony to stabilize 
the soil in the pit and the surrounding ground, Artificer. 
Even with her spells, we still have to pump out water and 
reinforce the walls," Lord Urit replied. "If you are 
worried about her abusing her power, we have her family 
held at a remote location as a surety of her cooperation."
    "I don't care if you have a knife at her back twenty-
four hours a day. She's flaring like a bonfire, and it's 
bound to attract something. She's uncontrolled." Latulla 
spoke, as a professional criticizing the technique of an 
amateur.
    "It's true whenever she conducts a ceremony we get 
more insects and animals coming into the area, but it is a 
small price to pay to keep the digging going," Lord Urit 
spoke flatly. "Unless you can replace her, we need her 
magic."
    "You know we can't send you artificers or magicians. 
They are too rare to spend on a project even this 
important." Latulla was pensive as she considered how 
overextended Keldon capabilities were on the continent. 
"Perhaps when you reach the tufa detected in the bowels of 
this swamp we will be able to shift real spell users here 
instead of slave trash." She paused, and Haddad saw the 
end of the ceremony. The ground everywhere in the work 
site seemed to quiver slightly, and on the pit floor, 
workers no longer fought suction as they moved soil and 
animal bodies to pallets to be lifted out. The soil being 
turned and moved could have been from rich farmland 
instead of a near swamp.
    "It's temporary, of course," Lord Urit said as even 
more frantic activity began on the pit floor. More workers 
were moving down ladders bolted to the wooden support 
walls. All the cranes were lifting out soil, and gangs of 
men at the rim moved wooden support sections to be lowered 
into the pit. "In less than an hour the ground will start 
turning into mud, and the pumps will be losing ground. It 
keeps getting worse the deeper we go, and we still don't 
know where the bottom is."
    "It is that fact which will keep this a low priority 
operation, Urit," Latulla replied. "I will report home you 
are doing your best, but success is unlikely. For now, 
conquest of the western mines is a surer supply of tufa 
than your diggings here."
    Urit bridled at the statement that what he was doing 
was not very important, but remembering Latulla's power 
and position, he merely looked to the side. The inspection 
was over, and the artificer turned and walked quickly to 
her vehicle.
    Haddad ran ahead to ready the crew. Knowing the 
importance of this place, he continued to look around, 
memorizing the layout for the debriefing he would receive 
if he ever managed to escape. It was his eye that spotted 
movement outside the camp first. He stopped just as he 
reached the craft. Cradow was overseeing maintenance and 
followed Haddad's eyes as the slave skidded to a halt.
    "Darba!" Cradow cried in a voice that resounded over 
the entire camp. The Keldon shouted with such force that 
when he tried to order the crew, he could only gape like a 
fish for a few moments.
    Haddad saw a creature related to the parea-a giant 
carnivorous bird, but as it came closer, he gasped at its 
size. The monsters of the plains were flocks of chickens 
in comparison to this beast. It was at least twenty-five 
feet tall. Its feathers were green and brown, decent 
camouflage, perhaps, when it was a chick, but silly on a 
bird that could snatch up an ox. It moved toward the mound 
of dead animals hauled out of the pit. The huge muddy pile 
was obviously awaiting transport to a distant dumping 
site, but the bird had homed in on this pile of carrion 
rather than the huge mound of corpses that must exist 
somewhere else.
    "Ready for battle!" Cradow croaked and scooped up 
Haddad, throwing him into the barge as the crew scrambled 
among the gear. A large ballista was yanked from a crate 
and set on a stand bolted to the floor of the vehicle. 
Keldons from around the camp were converging on the 
vehicles and yanking out weapons and armor, but all the 
other barges were secured to cranes supplying power or 
attached to trailers piled high with debris. Only Cradow's 
craft was ready for quick action. Haddad had no idea what 
to do, so he helped another slave move a heavy spear and 
put it into brackets set into the floor. The craft 
sprouted lethal quills as Cradow called for action. Haddad 
gripped the deck as the barge began to turn, and he could 
see Lord Urit at the base of a crane trying to get a barge 
unhooked. Latulla retreated to the edge of the pit.
    "Hurry securing that bow!" Cradow directed the slaves. 
"Find the bolts and ready for a run." The two men he was 
pointing at stumbled to the gear and began digging for the 
bolts buried under Latulla's baggage. They tore loose the 
restraints, and the containers spilled throughout the 
interior as Cradow increased speed.
    "Throw that crap over the side," he commanded Haddad 
and another man. Haddad was throwing out Latulla's cases 
before he realized it. Perhaps he would die and the 
artificer would be unable to punish him.
    They completed their turn and were aimed at the 
carrion collection. The bird was pecking at the mound of 
flesh. Haddad was surprised to see the bird's wings 
holding the carcass of a great hippo. The wings were 
canted forward unnaturally, and Haddad noticed what 
appeared to be arms at this angle. The bird cut another 
chunk off and then fully extended its neck, regurgitating 
what it had eaten in a spray across the pile of meat. The 
corpses had not aged to the bird's taste while entombed in 
the mud.
    The movement of slaves caught its attention, and it 
turned and stepped quickly to the pit. Those still 
standing dived into the excavation. The fortunate were 
climbing down the walls or sliding down cables-the screams 
of the unfortunate cut off as they reached the bottom 
ahead of the rest. The Keldons were roaring defiance, and 
a group under Lord Urit charged, the rush accelerating 
until it reached the creature. The beast's head dipped 
down, and it snared a pair of warriors. One was crushed to 
death, and the other looked like a doll caught by its arm 
as the darba's head rose out of the crowd. The victim's 
screams and the warrior's desperate attacks against its 
beak irritated the bird, and its forelimbs stabbed talons 
into the body, stilling it as the bird gulped down fresh 
meat.
    "Get out of the way!" Cradow boomed as he directed the 
barge after the bird. The predator stalked through the 
heart of the camp, its head diving to snare a victim and 
cut the man to pieces. It killed without eating, leaving a 
trail of body parts. The camp slaves who fled from its 
attack were blocking Cradow's path. "Fire the bow, you 
cowards!"
    The ballista was finally mounted and discharged. The 
darba's call of pain drowned out the rest of the camp as 
the bolt punched through the muscles of its leg. "Aim for 
the body, you idiots," Cradow ordered.
    "We're too close, ash face!" a slave screamed back, 
the moment overwhelming healthy survival instincts. The 
ballista was powerful enough to kill, but the angle was 
too steep to hit the vital organs of the bird while the 
barge was so near. Cradow's response was to ram the great 
bird.
    The barge came to a near halt as it hit the monster's 
leg. The multiple legs of the barge pushed up hummocks of 
dirt as the vehicle tried to trample the darba. The bird 
slammed down on the barge's overhead shell. The wooden 
canopy above Haddad's head proved stronger than the League 
technician had feared, withstanding the weight of the 
giant monster. Unfortunately, the weight was too much for 
many of the barge's legs. Haddad heard seals exploding 
under the sudden spike in pressure. The bird rolled off 
the top of the vehicle to the ground. Haddad could smell 
leaking Heroes' Blood as the bird struggled upright.
    "Get some distance before we lose all power!" Haddad 
shouted. If the barge stopped dead, the bird would dig out 
the crew like the meat from a nut. They needed more time 
and distance for a ballista shot. The slaves manning the 
weapon were dazed and scrambled to load another bolt.
    "Maybe the artificer can kill it," someone said, and 
Cradow sent the machine in a curving run along the edge of 
the pit. The collapsed legs gave the barge a rolling gait, 
the crew stumbling as the deck pitched beneath them. 
Haddad could see Latulla with her staff raised for a blow 
and wondered if her usual method of chastisement could 
work on a creature weighing tons. As the Keldon's stick 
fell, a wave of fire built and raced toward the creature. 
Unfortunately, the barge's malfunctioning controls took it 
into the spell's path. The men working on the ballista 
flamed into charred husks, and their bodies broke into 
pieces as they fell. Haddad looked out the other side of 
the barge, following the fire line as it converged with 
the darba, but the fire slowed and subsided as it reached 
the creature, the flames seeming to sink into the ground. 
When it hit the bird, it was far smaller and slower than 
Latulla had planned.
    The spell covered the bird in fire, and Haddad 
believed the battle over. Then the flames died and left 
the monster standing. The feathers that covered the bulk 
of the bird's body were carbonized, and as it took a few 
breaths, most of its feathers fell like melting snow off a 
roof line. Its flesh was red and burned, and its cry 
squealed through the air. The line of fire had crossed 
through the barge, and when the beast's head dropped down, 
Haddad knew who it blamed.
    "Try to get a bolt loaded," Cradow said almost calmly 
as he took the barge out of the camp at the highest speed 
he could manage. Haddad looked helplessly at the charred 
and twisted weapon as the sound of the bird's charge 
echoed across the site behind them. All the slaves readied 
personal weapons. They would be useless, but that was all 
they had.
    Haddad's stomach seemed to fall, and he was stunned as 
the barge did likewise. They had run into a sudden mud 
hole that had appeared in their path, and the barge's 
limbs beat futilely as they dug the craft deeper into the 
mud.
    "Come on!" Haddad screamed to the man beside him and 
flung a small trunk as hard as he could off the side of 
the barge. He jumped out after it and landed on his belly, 
forcing out his breath. The mud seemed very hard as he 
eeled forward without air. He reached the crate he had 
flung with such hysterical strength and hauled himself on 
top of it, out of the mud. He sat with his head down 
between his legs, trying desperately to breathe, ignoring 
the world around him.
    When his head came up, the barge showed only the peak 
of the upper shell. Men and a few Keldons were throwing 
themselves through the mud in a mad attempt to escape from 
the darba. The monster had chased the barge and become 
mired as well, but it still struck at the men unfortunate 
enough to be too close. Slaves and Keldon warriors rushed 
from the work site and threw ropes to those stuck in the 
mud. Barge crew were pulled out of the mud and dragged 
yards over the surface. The pain on the faces of those 
rescued as their bodies were torn out of the mud stilled 
Haddad's urge to call for help. Hopefully, after things 
calmed down, more care would be used in rescuing people.
    The pit witch was standing and chanting, directing her 
attention to the ground around the still struggling darba. 
Haddad now realized why the ground had suddenly given way 
beneath the barge and the giant bird. He was feeling 
grateful to be alive when he saw Latulla force her way 
through the crowd to the edge of the new mud hole. She was 
almost white with rage at her failure to kill the bird. 
Haddad saw her swing her staff high and bring it down. 
Knowing his mistress, he curled his limbs on top of the 
crate and closed his ears. The explosion of steam and mud 
blotted out all other sounds, and he swore as the effects 
of Latulla's angry strike washed over him.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad came to on the floor of a land barge. Outside 
he could hear Latulla and Urit talking, and he slowly sat 
up to observe the conversation. He winced in pain and 
wondered at the numbness of his hands and face. His arms 
were smothered in some medicinal salve, and he knew it 
must be numbing extreme pain.
    The entire encampment was getting into wagons and 
sleds hooked up to land barges. The site was closing down 
for the night and the workers were getting ready to move 
to the firmer ground of the housing camp.
    "We must have more barges and war manikins," Urit was 
saying. "The losses would have been much smaller with 
decent heavy weapons. This is the first time a darba has 
gotten into the site, but we have seen them before. Send 
more material." He was emphatic, but his lowered eyes 
spelled out his inferior status before the artificer.
    "Keld cannot afford to reinforce failure. You will 
have to succeed with what you have before we can move more 
equipment to you." Latulla looked over the site one last 
time, "Dismount all the barges supplying power, and go 
back to using slaves in the wheels. The barges' weapons 
can kill the birds if you use them properly and at a 
distance."
    "But that means more slaves will die, and we'll have 
to implement harsher discipline to keep them at work," 
Lord Urit replied. "It is more cost effective to use 
machines if possible."
    "We can always find more slaves," Latulla said 
derisively. "We expect to have more prisoners coming in 
soon. Until then, make the mud witch work harder. You must 
succeed in producing tufa from the depths of the swamp. I 
or another artificer will be out here in a month to see 
that you do."
    
                        Chapter 6

    The Keldon fleet was coming in. The ships in port were 
not the fast sailors that Haddad expected to see, 
considering the distance that they had supposedly come. 
Perhaps the more seaworthy craft were keeping out to sea, 
patrolling for League vessels. The ones that had pulled 
into the port were tubs. Wallowing in the water, they were 
nothing like the rakish raiders that Haddad heard stories 
about. As the crowd grew on the docks, Haddad drifted to a 
higher vantage point. He climbed to the veranda of a house 
and was surprised to hear his name called from the crowd. 
He looked down into a wide black smile.
    "Fumash!" Haddad exclaimed. "Why aren't you outside 
Druik's tent? You didn't have a problem with the general, 
did you?" Haddad was expansive with this stolen moment of 
freedom and even a poor joke seemed humorous.
    "He'll be here later," the clerk replied. "A hand up 
wouldn't be refused."
    Haddad bent down, and Fumash seemed to fly up as 
Haddad pulled.
    "Look's like a lot of activity out there. More gear 
coming in," Haddad said as stevedores unloaded one ship. 
The Keldon warriors and sailors began to disembark, 
kicking aside the slaves trying to unload the ship. "I 
despise them, I think." Such sentiments were dangerous to 
say aloud where someone might hear, but Haddad felt he 
could trust Fumash, though he realized he was taking a 
chance with someone he barely knew.
    "We all despise them," Fumash replied. "Only a fool 
loves slavery. I serve a master who is comparatively kind 
because I provide clerical skills not commonly found in 
the camp. Yet his kindness is due to his lack of interest 
in overseeing me, not any innate goodness. As long as 
sleep and drinking with old cronies engages him, I am 
safe. But he has severely injured slaves when drunk or 
angry. Perhaps in Keld their servants love them, but not 
here." Even as Fumash spoke his bitter words, he smiled 
and nodded to the crowd, not wanting to appear furtive. 
"Look attentive, Haddad. We are looking for our masters 
from this high point. Remember?" He even pretended to 
point, then shake his head as if he was mistaken. The 
habits of deception were deeply engrained by now.
    "Fumash, we both hate being here. If we don't like it, 
perhaps we should leave." Haddad kept looking over the 
crowd and speaking in an even tone, but surely Fumash knew 
he wasn't talking about the balcony.
    "Why haven't you left before now? If you are looking 
for something, you should have spotted it by now and been 
on your way," Fumash said. Now he was swinging his wallet 
around and drew papers out of it. He held them up to the 
sunlight as if reading them, but his eyes were focused 
inside rather than on the paper.
    "I am ready to go but need aid in finding the way." 
Haddad thought of all he could relate to League forces and 
moved his head closer to Fumash's to confer more 
privately.
    "Keep your distance, sir," Fumash said almost primly 
and handed another document to Haddad. "Two birds close 
together can mean a nest and something hatching, as any 
bird watcher could tell you." The man's chin jerked to the 
crowd and the Keldons organizing the square.
    "Bird watching is an excellent hobby, though it is 
quite dangerous around here. A man would get only a few 
miles before something snapped him up." Haddad kept his 
tone light and stared through the paper as he jerked his 
chin briefly at the growing organization in front of them. 
"Perhaps bird watching might be easier at sea. If the 
watcher knew how to use a boat." Haddad was a landsman 
through and through, but the dangers of fleeing overland 
seemed too great. Better to risk the unknown.
    "A man familiar with boats might spot quite a few 
birds if he was far enough out to sea. The waters around 
here are too dangerous, but out where there is sea, one 
might spot all manner of interesting birds. And of course, 
many shores are safer for the bird watcher than this one." 
Fumash took the paper out of Haddad's hands and stood up, 
folding the paper and placing it in his wallet. "I myself 
will be putting to sea in the near future, accompanying 
Lord Druik back to Keld. I might do some bird watching, 
looking for nocturnal flyers. Perhaps you will accompany 
your mistress on the trip as well. It would be very useful 
to have someone besides myself helping me, carrying 
supplies, jotting down notes and so forth." Fumash 
finished arranging his kit and then waved as if to someone 
in the crowd. Haddad accepted the information that he 
might be dragged thousands of miles without blinking an 
eye.
    "Perhaps we will be able to find something interesting 
at sea." Haddad also stood and waved to the crowd in 
general before following the little man down. Of course, 
considering the number of people Haddad had seen devoured 
by parea, no one would have accepted his interest in bird 
watching as likely. The habits of deception were becoming 
engrained in Haddad as well.
    Haddad went only yards before another slave hailed 
him.
    "Latulla has tasked all members of her household to 
finish unloading the barge. Absence will be noted and 
punished, so you best get there quick." The slave pointed 
to the emblem on Haddad's clothes and continued on his 
way, looking for other members of the house who had not 
received the news.
    Haddad stepped smartly, knowing the thoroughness with 
which Latulla could express herself. He had not been on 
the docks themselves, only viewed them from a distance. 
The pier was rough and already showing signs of weathering 
and peeling that signaled the hurried construction. The 
Keldons suffered that failing on many construction 
projects that used locally "acquired" labor.
    There were two ships at dock. The overseer of the 
nearest asked Haddad his name and marked it off a list. He 
was relieved to see that he was not the last to arrive and 
should escape Latulla's displeasure. He was waved to the 
ship farther down the dock. It was wide with stubby masts 
fore and aft, and it was tied to a thick bollard on the 
pier. Haddad expected to see the stub of a broken middle 
mast, but instead there were a series of hatches. He 
joined a work party and passed a line of slaves carrying 
sacks that strained their backs, turning their faces 
bright red. Haddad couldn't help thinking that a crane 
would be of more use here than stuck in the bogs farther 
inland.
    The crew chief called them around and shouted over the 
groans of the other work parties.
    "We will be assisting a mage moving warriors out of 
stasis. Work as directed, and you may ask questions 
freely. We will have no accidents. Any accident or damage 
to the warriors will be severely punished. Now come on." 
He turned and walked down a steep stairway that led to the 
hold. The chief cuffed and bludgeoned his way through the 
slaves, then led Haddad and the rest below decks.
    The hold was dark, and they went to a corner farthest 
from the light. A comparatively slender Keldon sat on his 
heels as slaves removed the last of several sacks from 
pallets and moved everything away from the hull. All 
Haddad could think of was coffins as he looked at several 
dozen long narrow crates stacked and tied down with cargo 
netting. They were even corralled by brackets secured to 
the body of the ship itself.
    "Move the first one down carefully," the overseer 
instructed.
    Haddad noticed that all the slaves were in good shape 
and took it as another sign of the value of the cargo. 
Four men moved in concert, talking to each other as they 
carefully unhooked the nets and unscrewed the brackets 
that locked the crates into a single static unit. They 
moved the top crate slowly onto a set of supports. The 
crew boss broke the seals and swung the lid open. A Keldon 
warrior in full armor, weapons, and other gear filled the 
interior of the crate.
    "What the nine hells is going on?" he whispered to the 
man beside him. Given permission to ask questions, he was 
definitely going to take advantage.
    "Just watch. It will all become obvious in a minute," 
the slave replied, though he too looked on in obvious 
interest.
    The Keldon mage rose off his heels and approached the 
body. The slaves cleared away though they stayed close in 
case they were needed. The mage reached under his cloak 
and pulled out a censer and tinderbox. It took him a 
moment to light the censer, then he swung it just over the 
head of the still warrior in very small arcs. The smoke 
poured into the crate slowly, like thick honey, and seemed 
to be absorbed by the body. The mage chanted quietly but 
lacked the tension that Latulla exhibited when she 
practiced magic. When the apparent corpse opened his eyes 
and began to breathe deeply, Haddad was startled but not 
totally surprised.
    "Welcome to the Land of Heroes," the mage said and 
continued to swing the smoking censer. "It will be at 
least a few minutes before you may rise. You and your 
brothers will find glory and honor in these lands."
    The crew chief motioned for another crate to be set 
down.
    "I am always surprised they wake up from that sleep," 
the slave standing beside Haddad commented as they waited 
their turn to work. Already another crate was being 
opened.
    "The first time I thought it necromancy, as did you, I 
am sure." The sailor looked not much older than Haddad, 
but he sounded richly paternal as he shared knowledge with 
one who was ignorant.
    "Keld is thousands of miles away, and they don't have 
the greatest ships despite their reputation as pirates. 
They could never ship enough people and supplies to this 
base without some tricks up their sleeves. The warriors 
without sufficient rank or power are boxed up like cargo 
and shipped here. They ingest a philter of a drug that 
freezes them in a deathlike state. The warriors lie down 
in crates, are dusted with certain powders, and then 
sealed up. They travel here without having to eat, drink, 
or engage in other activities."
    The mage was chanting again and swinging the censer.
    "A magic user isn't even necessary. It's the smoke 
that does the job. I've seen crewmen wake up warriors in 
transit without any magic at all. Just a match and a 
handful of leaves."
    The crew boss waved Haddad and three others to replace 
the previous team. Haddad instantly realized why the 
slaves were all in good condition and were being rotated 
on the detail. The crate was solidly constructed, and the 
Keldon inside was not light. The slaves all exercised 
great care, realizing that their punishment would be swift 
and sure should they mishandle anything. Even with the 
weight and danger of punishment, the job soon became 
simple repetition. However, as Haddad and his crew reached 
the bottom layer of crates, the job became anything but 
routine.
    Haddad was opening a crate, and as he began to lever 
up the lid, he noticed the smell. The stink of the bilge 
prevented his nose from noticing before. It was semisweet, 
but it tickled the back of his throat, and he had to 
repress the urge to gag. Remembering the permission 
granted him to ask questions, he spoke to the overseer.
    "I think there's a problem here."
    The crew boss was talking quietly to other workers on 
the detail but came over instantly at Haddad's 
interruption. The mage also rose from his crouch and 
approached.
    "What is it?" the Keldon demanded.
    "It's an odor, Lord. It is only noticeable up close 
but seems very strong," Haddad explained.
    They had been working for quite some time, and the 
hold was deserted. The mage called for another light to be 
lit so he could see the crate. He held the lantern and 
inspected the crate closely. His cry of anger drove most 
of the other slaves away. Haddad knew it was dangerous, 
but he had to know what provoked such a reaction. The mage 
turned and loomed over Haddad, his face flushed and dark 
as a storm cloud.
    "Get it open, right now!" he hissed, trying to reign 
in the usual Keldon impulse to take out anger on his 
inferiors.
    Haddad silently set the point of his crowbar into the 
latches and threw his weight onto it. Unlike the earlier 
crates, there was no rush or puff of air as a seal was 
broken. The smell grew stronger as he worked the other 
latches, each release seemed more odorous than the last. 
When the last catch was thrown, the mage could restrain 
himself no longer. He reached past Haddad's shoulder and 
threw the lid wide open.
    It took Haddad's eyes a moment to evaluate the 
contents of the crate. The slaves with the lamps retreated 
as Haddad tried to puzzle out what the warrior was 
wearing. Then a lamp holder moved closer, and the 
technician could see clearly. The coffin was alive with 
insects and maggots. The insignificant creatures retreated 
under and into the body as the light drove them to cover. 
The features of the warrior were twisted, and he seemed to 
grimace as parasites under the shrunken skin moved. Haddad 
looked on in horror for only a moment and then turned his 
head aside. He fell to his hands and knees. Everything he 
had eaten that morning spewed out as spasms racked his 
body. When Haddad could finally stand, he could see the 
other slaves had retreated away from the mage. The 
Keldon's body radiated tension that usually signaled 
magic. The less knowledgeable slaves saw it as blinding 
rage. Haddad wondered which it was as he spat and tried to 
clear his mouth, wishing vainly for some water.
    "Filth," was all the mage said as his hand pointed at 
the corpse, but Haddad felt the flash of heat rising from 
the crate. The sound of the body cooking and the 
destruction of the parasites in the crate were the only 
sounds. Haddad could see the wide eyes of the other slaves 
as they realized the danger of such magic in the confines 
of the ship's hold. Then the smell of meat cooking hit his 
nostrils and sent him to his knees again. He could think 
of nothing as his body tried to empty a vacant stomach.
    Shouts of panic, Keldon panic, made him look up after 
vain attempts to be sick. One of the awakened Keldons had 
heard the commotion and then had seen the body and its 
heat treatment. At the sight of a magic user destroying 
the contents of a transport crate, the warrior drew a long 
knife.
    "What are you doing?" he screamed, tottering forward 
to threaten violence. "Warriors to me!" The strange sounds 
and odors from the hold were ignored by the deck crew, but 
a direct Keldon appeal for aid brought several sailors 
with knives sliding down ladders and stairs into the hold, 
throwing slaves out of the way to reach the mage and the 
warrior.
    "Stop!" the magic user said loudly. "This crate was 
infested, and the occupant was dead. The slaves can 
confirm it." Haddad and the rest nodded their heads and 
prayed to be outside as several Keldons swore and looked 
at them closely.
    "There may be other crates whose protections were 
violated," the mage continued. He pointed to a Keldon 
sailor. "Go to the Artificer Latulla, and tell her to come 
with a group of controlled slaves here." The sailor 
departed at a run.
    "Take these other slaves on deck and hold them there," 
the magic user directed. "Latulla may wish to interrogate 
them."
    The Keldon sailors immediately began to cuff and shove 
Haddad and his fellow slaves toward the main stair. The 
slaves ran up the steps quickly as the sailors relayed the 
order to hold them on the ship. The slaves were hustled 
forward until they were in the bow. They crowded against a 
set of holed benches over the water, and Haddad realized 
they were in the latrine.
    The slaves sat down en masse, and no one spoke. Haddad 
could clearly see the gangplank. Latulla strode aboard and 
into the hold, closely followed by a group of slaves. Each 
slave wore a bracer or armband of metal. Haddad had seen 
slaves throughout the camp with such but never assigned 
much meaning to it. Now he realized that it conferred some 
special status, and he wondered what that status was. The 
mage requested controlled slaves even though Haddad and 
the others showed no sign of rebellion whatsoever. How 
were these new slaves different? What power did the 
Keldons have over these slaves beyond what they held over 
Haddad? He pondered these questions in silence as the day 
passed.
    Throughout the day slaves used the facilities so 
conveniently close by as they waited in the sun. Water and 
food appeared, and Haddad nodded his thanks as a cook's 
assistant for the ship distributed rations. One brave or 
foolish slave started to ask what was happening, and the 
butt of a Keldon spear hit his temple before more than a 
few words issued from his mouth. Haddad and another man 
lifted him up and carried him to the very bow of the ship. 
They signaled another slave to keep him quiet and hoped 
that any sound the man made when he regained consciousness 
would be too quiet to invite more punishment.
    Night arrived, and as the guards changed, the cook's 
assistant passed out blankets and more food and water. 
Haddad knew from the anxiety on the man's face that he was 
doing it without any orders and wondered at the man's 
quiet courage in caring for others.
    At midnight there was a guard change, and Haddad 
thought he recognized the soldiers. They were among those 
awakened from stasis during the day. They seemed to stare 
at the opening to the hold more than they watched the 
prisoners. Haddad could guess what they thought. Each 
guard must be thinking about how easily he might have 
died. Two of the warriors talked, only stopping when other 
Keldons came close.
    "How could it have happened?" asked one. "I was told 
it was safe."
    "It is safe!" the other excitedly replied. "I have 
been in stasis several times, and there were no problems. 
I know warriors who were down as long as a year and there 
were no deaths." The more experienced warrior looked 
coldly at the slaves sitting on deck and spoke quietly, 
though Haddad could still hear him.
    "I think it was sabotage," the guard said. "Someone 
put those insects in or violated the seals to kill the 
warrior inside. It may have even been done during the 
voyage by one of these slaves." Both warriors were 
fingering their weapons now. Haddad wanted to explain 
there was no way he could be guilty, but three things held 
him back. First, he would be passing blame onto other 
slaves. Second, he was glad to think that a slave had 
killed a warrior and probably got away with it. Third, 
drawing attention was suicide in the presence of two angry 
Keldons. Haddad felt relief when the guards were replaced. 
The new warriors were not so vocal in their suspicions, 
though their hands caressed the hilts of their swords. 
Finally, too bored and cold to worry, Haddad drifted off 
to sleep.
    
                        Chapter 7

    "Get up! Get up!" The shouting woke Haddad, and he 
scrambled to his feet. A sailor stood before the slaves. 
Crewmembers helped stiff longshoremen up and collected the 
blankets and the buckets of fresh water provided them the 
night before.
    "You are to return to your quarters and say nothing of 
what you have seen or heard. Tell your master that you 
have been ordered by the Artificer Latulla to reveal 
nothing." The sailor pointed to a man setting up a table 
and book by the gangplank. "Give your name and master 
before leaving the ship, so your story may be confirmed. 
Now get off the ship."
    Haddad was in back, and it took quite some time before 
he was walking down the gangplank and toward Latulla's 
quarters. Though the sun was still being born in the east, 
the docks were crowded. Wagon after wagon lined up along 
the streets and every driver cursed the delay. The ships 
were reloading as crews and longshoremen toted their loads 
aboard. Once a wagon was empty, it was put to work hauling 
away cargo from ships that came in the day before. Haddad 
wondered at the level of activity, because usually it was 
days unloading a ship, and the screaming Keldon overseers 
wanted it done in hours.
    He struggled his way through the current of wagons and 
slaves. When he arrived at Latulla's quarters, he found 
the gatehouse open. He could see wagons being loaded by 
exhausted members of the household. Lamps and torches were 
still set out and burning. From the faces of Haddad's 
fellow servants, the work had been going on all night.
    "Haddad! Where the devil have you been?" screamed 
Briach. The chief servant was drawn and his eyes red with 
lack of sleep. He stepped toward Haddad, his hand going up 
for a cuff, but Haddad snarled back. The technician was 
too tired and aching from a night on deck to take abuse 
from another slave.
    "I was kept by Latulla's orders, and that is all you 
need to know!" Haddad clenched his fist and tried to rein 
in his temper, but he found it difficult. "Where is 
Latulla? I will need to report to her now that I've 
finally been released."
    Briach's face went still as he took in Haddad's 
defiance. "You will find the mistress in her workshop." 
Briach gestured to the outbuilding up against the compound 
wall. Haddad turned without a word and strode off, kicking 
the ground in anger.
    "Keep a civil tongue, or she'll have it out," Briach 
called after him when he was a safe distance away. Haddad 
heard only the rumble of hunger from his stomach and 
wondered if he would be able to find a meal in the chaos 
of the morning.
    Latulla was directing the packing of various projects 
as
    Haddad entered the workshop. The shutters were thrown 
wide, and lamps were burning, but it was still dim inside. 
Haddad did not know the slaves in the room by name, but he 
recognized them as the banded slaves from the night 
before. They must have arrived with the ships just come 
in, and they had already displaced Latulla's regular 
helpers. Once again Haddad wondered what special talents 
they possessed.
    "Finally you're here, Haddad." Latulla turned around, 
her hands full with apparatus that she was packing 
herself. "We are leaving with the fleet in only a few 
hours. Pack up your tools and manuals and anything else 
you will need for working on war machines. Bring the 
instruments you would need for fine work."
    Haddad turned and slowly walked toward the locked 
cabinets holding his personal gear and tools. All the 
cabinets were open, and manuals and workboxes from other 
members of his old unit lay out. His eyes misted as he 
looked on the remnants of his former life.
    "Most of the parts are already crated for shipment to 
Keld with us," Latulla called after him. "Hurry packing, 
and you can catch a meal before we have to pull out." 
Haddad turned and stared. Surely someone else was 
speaking. Latulla was almost smiling as she directed 
slaves doing the packing. Consideration was something he 
never expected from the artificer, and it left a strange 
taste in his mouth. He started packing a crate and writing 
an inventory of the tools and books he sealed away.
    It took hours to finish loading. Haddad barely managed 
to get food and his personal kit before reporting outside. 
Latulla ordered him into the wagon for the ride down to 
the dock. Walking would have been quicker and more 
comfortable, but he was tasked with preventing theft. The 
material was all to go to Keld. Though warriors had picked 
over the booty when first captured, many wanted a last 
chance to snatch a piece before it headed north. Haddad 
bore Latulla's emblem, and her sigil on the wagons kept 
the warriors away. Except for Haddad, it seemed no other 
member of the household would be traveling north with 
Latulla. Haddad prayed that he would not have to serve as 
her personal slave. Haddad would miss Briach's unseemly 
passion for slavery if he had to constantly attend to 
Latulla's needs in the steward's place. Reaching the dock, 
Haddad could see the frantic pace of loading the ships had 
slowed. Latulla's wagons were among the last to be 
unloaded by exhausted longshoremen.
    "Hurry up you fools, we need to depart immediately." 
The style and dress of the Keldon speaking suggested that 
this was the ship's captain. If so, Haddad hoped he could 
read the sea better than he read Latulla's uncertain 
temper.
    "What did you say, Captain?" Latulla called as she 
stalked up the gangplank, her hands grasping her metal-
shod staff.
    "I apologize, but we must set sail immediately." The 
captain sounded rushed rather than apologetic as Haddad 
slung his personal gear and bedding onto his shoulder. "We 
were late getting in, and if we take too long we'll have 
League trouble for sure."
    "I thought their ships stayed out of these waters?" 
Latulla leaned against the rail and watched Keldon crewmen 
running crates and sacks of her gear up the gangplank. The 
sight of the gray-skinned sailors doing slaves' work 
showed Haddad how short time was.
    "You can't find a ship, but their cursed aerial 
patrols are starting to sortie from their rebuilt base out 
west. Someone will need to burn that out or shipping is 
going to cease." The captain gestured to the men forward 
to prepare to cast off.
    "Still, why the rush?" Latulla eyed the final 
stragglers coming aboard and some of the longshoremen held 
each other up as they almost fell down the gangplank. A 
crude temporary crane dropped a wagonload into the hull 
with a crash.
    "Haddad," Latulla called. He stepped closer and 
wondered if he would be preparing her cabin. "As soon as 
the last crane load is in the hold, go down and see to the 
storage of the cargo. I want a check of the inventory and 
description of any broken containers. Draft sailors to aid 
you as necessary." The captain finished signaling his 
orders to the crew, and she turned back to him with an 
expectant air.
    "There are supposed to be long-shore raids today 
through the dawn in the far west," continued the captain. 
"It should drag their air patrols away and mask our 
departure. But until we rendezvous with the war ships in a 
week, we have no protection against attack. We need to get 
away from this port. All ships are to sail alone in case 
some are discovered, and I want to be ahead of the rest. 
Now I suggest that you make sure you have your gear 
onboard because I want to make way the second we can." 
Haddad saw that there were only a few loads left to go and 
went to start his task.
    His first discovery in the hold was a pleasant one. 
Fumash, the small customs inspector, was looking over the 
cargo, checking its condition and security in case of 
storm. A broad black smile showed as Haddad hurried 
forward to talk to the little man.
    "What luck!" exclaimed Fumash. "I was just wondering 
who might help me in the difficult execution of my duties. 
Who should appear but my good friend Haddad?" He turned to 
a crewman assigned to help him. "Go back to your regular 
duties, please. Your aid is appreciated, but your own 
tasks must surely call to you."
    The crewman looked exhausted from working all night 
and most of the day preparing for departure. He only shook 
his head and stumbled deeper into the hold, looking for an 
out-of-the-way spot to catch a nap.
    "Shout when you are through," the crewman called back.
    "Trusting soul," Haddad said, thinking on the probable 
punishment for napping on duty.
    "The tired do not think clearly. Besides, the rest of 
the crew is working farther forward, securing gear in the 
second hold." Sunlight shadowed the pair as they crouched, 
checking cargo ties among the crates.
    "So Druik is onboard and bound for home," Haddad 
inferred. "I was surprised not to see him on deck." The 
cargo they were now processing bore Latulla's mark, and 
Haddad began to write on the slate he had grabbed from his 
gear. The words were almost illegible in the poor light. 
"Still interested in the birds of the outer islands?"
    "Master Druik is in the cabin he and I share. I am 
checking his personal baggage." Fumash began chalking on a 
slate that squealed piercingly as he wrote. "And I am 
always interested in birds, though I doubt this is the 
time to discuss any expeditions."
    "When would be a better time?" Haddad looked around 
and motioned Fumash to crouch behind the crate so they 
might talk freely. "The crew is completely exhausted, and 
we are unobserved for the moment," he whispered. "The 
captain said the ship sails alone for the next week. The 
farther we sail the more difficult it will be to find our 
way to the League. Do you want to wait until we reach Keld 
to escape?"
    "Sea air has made you far too trusting," Fumash 
whispered back. He rose, and Haddad followed though Fumash 
only went a few steps before crouching out of sight again. 
"We are inspecting the cargo, remember?" Once again Fumash 
began scraping on his slate, though only random lines.
    "Perhaps the sea air has affected me as well," Fumash 
continued. "I have long since had my fill of Keldon 
hospitality. We will go three nights from now."
    "Why so long?" questioned Haddad. "The crew is tired 
now and will be busy getting the ship ready for the 
voyage." Haddad swore loudly then, as if discovering some 
problem. Fumash glanced up to check the hold for anyone 
else.
    "Because no matter how tired the crew is, the captain 
will maintain a careful watch as long as we are in coastal 
waters-both to prevent escape and spot League air patrols. 
In three days we will be far enough from land that he will 
relax his watch. We'll grab a boat and sail for the 
eastern islands. We'll hide there for a few days and 
gather as much food and water as we can. If the Keldons 
are practicing raids, we'll wait a few days and then run 
west. In the deeps maybe we will miss some of the monsters 
that exist inshore. If we are lucky, we'll be spotted by 
our air patrols." Fumash signaled that their conference 
was at an end. "Don't stock up any supplies. It's too 
likely to be spotted and warn the guards. Besides, we'll 
grab food just before we leave." Fumash began to walk 
away, and Haddad could still barely hear his last 
whispered comment.
    "If we are really lucky, the League won't sink us when 
we are spotted."

                          * * * * *

    The dawn of the second day found Haddad slowly going 
mad with impatience. He spent hours slowly reviewing what 
he knew of the Keldon plans. While he knew the physical 
layout of the military colony quite well, he was 
unfamiliar with the Keldon tactics. Just how useful he 
would be as a source of military intelligence was open to 
question. Still, any idea of what lay at the heart of the 
Keldon incursion would have to be useful.
    Haddad walked by a ship's boat one more time. He was 
unable to stop himself from inspecting the boat, so he 
rationed his glances. For cover, he toured the entire 
ship. He even got down to the power source for the ship's 
propulsion. He expected to see a shaft or moving 
machinery, but even with his background in large 
machinery, he was mystified at how the engine worked. It 
appeared that there were no working parts, no hydraulic 
transfer of power, and no powerstones. The engine just sat 
in the middle of several tanks like a pile of scrap. There 
was no sound of load or power. Something in that 
assemblage of parts was slowly and steadily assisting the 
sails in pushing the ship north, but he still wondered if 
it wasn't a trick played on him.
    The crew, both human and Keldon, seemed merrier than 
the people he knew on shore. Perhaps it was because the 
line between the races blurred under the demands of 
shipboard life. The equality that Haddad saw working 
subtly in land barges was much stronger at sea. Part of it 
was the elevation of knowledge or skill that allowed 
slaves a new level of freedom in working the sails and 
managing the deck gang. Haddad thought it might also be 
because this was a transport vessel, and the Keldon 
identity as warriors just wasn't as valuable when the 
primary responsibility was transporting cargo. When he 
heard women usually oversaw such supply responsibility, he 
was surprised. The only Keldon women he had seen were 
midwives or artificers. Some of the slaves educated him 
when he eavesdropped on a conversation.
    "Of course it's better to serve on a male-commanded 
vessel," one crewman commented to another as they checked 
coils of rope and prepared to wash down the decks. "You 
there, Haddad." He was waved over and wondered if he had 
revealed his interest in the conversation.
    "What do you want, crewman?" he asked, already 
thinking of the lies he would use.
    "We want you to settle an argument. I say it's better 
to serve under a male, even if he is more brutal, than 
under a female, because they strive to show authority at 
all times." Haddad took several moments because none of 
his ready answers addressed this unlikely question from a 
slave.
    "I believe that Latulla is a special case, and it 
would be unfair to consider her as representative of her 
gender." Haddad tried to sound respectful of his mistress, 
but his eyes watched the unfortunate steward that the 
captain had appointed to wait on Latulla. Bruises and a 
general furtive-ness gave the man a hunted look as he 
waited on deck to put off talking to Latulla as long as 
possible. He had tried to switch positions with the other 
sailors, but so far he had no takers.
    "You're right. It wouldn't be fair to use her as an 
example. She has special demands upon her as part of her 
position." Each excuse was more forced than the last; each 
trying to overlook the fact that Latulla was unusually 
cruel even in a race that rewarded such cruelty.
    "Usually women give lots of verbal abuse and scut 
work. When clear of military duty, a woman may have 
warriors underneath her, but very few males are capable of 
much outside of military action." The sailor spoke with 
the knowledge of experience evident in his voice, and 
Haddad took a chance to learn more before he left the 
Keldon world.
    "Why don't we see more women then? Almost all of the 
bosses are male, regardless of the activity they oversee." 
Haddad had not considered it unusual, but he did not see 
the Keldons as anything but monsters most of the time. 
Trying to see them as a race or people was painful and 
jarring. "Where are all the women if they are so skilled?"
    "Haddad, the town you left is a military base. 
Military action is the provenance of males. Our captain 
and officers are male because this is a combat area." The 
sailor smiled smugly as he revealed his superior 
knowledge. "Furthermore, this incursion is not totally 
supported by the Keldon nation. Most of the warriors are 
of inferior status and from secondary clans. The males you 
see commanding work details are from clans too poor to 
maintain a proper distribution of work between males and 
females. But if the loads we bring in are as rich as the 
one we're hauling now, there will be serious interest in 
colonizing."
    Every time Haddad ran into slaves who supported or 
approved of the Keldon cause, he wondered what flaw warped 
their minds. Ignorant as he was of Keldon culture, he was 
sure that human males sat at the bottom, and that made him 
even more determined to escape and fight for the League.
    It was late afternoon before Haddad found free time. 
Latulla ordered him to repack several crates they had 
hurriedly loaded to make the sailing date. The inventory 
was blatantly incorrect, and Haddad considered the man who 
packed it lucky indeed to avoid Latulla's grasp by staying 
on land. Of course, any mistake that Latulla could not 
instantly address tended to fester. Only a shipwreck would 
stop a sure reckoning upon her return. The artificer even 
designed a new loading scheme, so Haddad had to draft 
several crewmen throughout the day to dig crates out of 
tight quarters.
    Haddad was taking a break on deck. Not a large risk 
because a meal would be served soon, and Latulla preferred 
to be in her quarters when the deck was crowded with men.
    The helmsman and officers were in the raised stern, 
and Haddad wondered how much longer he could escape 
notice. The crew was taking a break, and each man had his 
cup ready as the galley workers brought up buckets of 
beer. Fumash was near the rail and looking over the sea. 
As Haddad approached, several sailors started a round of 
singing as their ration of spirits was distributed. Haddad 
had lived on coffee and weak beer for most of his life, 
but the strength of the spirits the crewmen routinely 
consumed was a source of amazement.
    Fumash threw a bucket on a line into the water and 
drew it back up. He carefully poured a little from the 
bucket into his fresh water ration.
    "I thought drinking seawater would kill you," Haddad 
said.
    "You can add seawater to fresh water to stretch out 
your supplies as long as you dilute enough. Besides, it's 
a convenient source of salt." Fumash added to the 
concoction a small portion of spirits and then drank the 
mixture down. "Tastes as bad as always," he said with a 
smile.
    Haddad could see hints of white teeth and wondered if 
the drinking was scouring away the deposits left by 
Fumash's nut habit. It would certainly be more difficult 
to procure a supply of them if they arrived at Keld.
    "The captain doesn't look too concerned about League 
airships," ventured Haddad.
    The ship commander was talking to Druik. The huge 
Keldon was on deck without the customary armor of a war 
leader, though the spike and long blades on his artificial 
limbs certainly gave him a martial air.
    "He has to look brave under a war leader's eyes," 
Fumash replied. "We are heading northeast and should be 
outside the regular patrol areas. By tomorrow it will be 
just navigation watches, and we'll turn to the northwest 
the day after. It should still be calm if we are lucky." 
There was no wind, and the sails hung slackly. Those 
crewmen with needle skills worked their way through the 
ship's sails and signal flags. Maintenance had lagged, and 
Haddad wondered why. The ship glided forward slowly and 
without sound over the still sea.
    "So we change course tomorrow," Haddad said, nodding 
slightly at the boat only a few feet away.
    "As long as we are not spotted we should make a clean 
break." Fumash was growing nervous and stood with the 
bucket in hand. "How about a little sea water to cut your 
liquor ration?" He threw the bucket over, and it hit with 
a splat rather than a splash.
    "What the hell is that?" The customs man was leaning 
over the side and sounded so puzzled that Haddad and 
another sailor looked over the side as well.
    The water shimmered with faint glints of color, as if 
a sheen of oil lay on the water. It was a thick patch that 
the ship had hit in only the last few minutes. It was a 
large slick, and Haddad thought it strange that none of 
the lookouts spotted it. Perhaps it was common enough that 
only a landlubber or coastal sailor would be surprised by 
its appearance. The sailor's reaction put that theory to 
rest.
    "Captain!" he yelled in a near falsetto, "we're on a 
gastro-jelly!" His cry sparked a round of confirmations as 
the various lookouts turned their eyes from the sky to the 
water about the ship.
    The captain took only seconds to look over the side 
and then started shouting orders. "Change course hard to 
port! All hands fetch boarding pikes and prepare for jelly 
drill! Cook!" he shouted as the first serving of hot food 
was brought on deck, "start boiling soap! We've jelly to 
deal with!"
    The cook dumped the rations on the deck and hurried 
into the galley, screaming orders to his assistant as he 
went. Haddad turned to the sailor who was sweating and 
holding a boarding pike.
    "What is going on?" He looked at the water. The colors 
were now rushing toward the hull, and deeper, more-vibrant 
colors were starting to well up from the depths. The 
sailor seemed calm but expectant.
    "It's a gastro-jelly, a type of jellyfish larger than 
the ship." He shook his pike at the disturbance under the 
water. "Right now it's turning over so it can use its 
tentacles. If the course change doesn't break us free, 
we'll be scraping it off the sides in a few moments." 
Haddad had seen monster attacks, but this one was so 
leisurely that he had a hard time feeling any fear. Fumash 
was confused as well, and Haddad was pleased not to be 
alone in his ignorance.
    "Why haven't I heard of it if it is so dangerous?" 
Haddad asked as he took a pike.
    Lord Druik was shouting and making the rounds of the 
railings as well. The words were forceful exhalations and 
grunts that Haddad couldn't make out, but the exhortations 
served to energize the Keldon crew. Each touch of Druik's 
hand as he walked left a more confident warrior behind.
    Even Haddad could feel something, a call to battle, a 
shout of defiance against an enemy.
    "A gastro-jelly usually isn't dangerous, but this hulk 
is too bloody slow, and we've caught the central mass. If 
those blind morons on watch had spotted it, we wouldn't be 
in any danger at all," the sailor said.
    Latulla was now on deck and talking to the Keldon 
mate, trying to find out what she could do.
    "Fire is not something we use next to the hull, 
Doyenne." The officer fidgeted as he talked to Latulla 
instead of rushing to his duty station.
    "Well, it's almost impossible to target the jelly. 
There's nothing solid to hit," Latulla said, looking over 
the side.
    "It's turned," went the call, and thin tentacles began 
to rise up out of the water. They were small and fragile 
looking, and Haddad wanted to laugh at the excitement they 
inspired. Then they began growing, and Haddad joined the 
rest of the crew in fear.
    The tentacles grew in different ways. Some swelled 
until they were as thick as anchor cables. Others 
flattened into a rough sheet that coated the hull as if 
mechanical grease. And still others extended in sudden 
spurts of a few feet. Each sailor along the side broke off 
tentacles into the sea, some shaking and tugging their 
pikes as they became entangled like a bough attacked by a 
climbing vine.
    More warriors rushed to the sides, and Druik began a 
war cry as each new fighter joined the attack. The 
hollering was in a dialect unfamiliar to Haddad, but the 
rhythm reminded him of a marching song, the melody uniting 
different parts into a single, focused whole. Keldon 
warriors roared in a brutal harmony, and some used bare 
hands to clear the sides of the ship. But being inspired 
by Druik did not make them invulnerable, and a single 
touch of jelly to bare flesh was something no amount of 
singing would overcome. Druik used his artificial arm to 
clear the sides and called out to the other warriors.
    "Don't touch it, just peel it off the ship!" he 
yelled. "Use a spear, or lash it off with a rope." One 
warrior quickly picked up a coil and flailed it against 
the hull. The rope broke tentacles and tubes free of the 
hull with every strike. Other warriors drew swords and 
scraped the sides, others smashed barrels to use the 
staves. Despite the enthusiasm, the jelly sent up more and 
more extension, trying to pull itself aboard. The ropes 
were coated with jelly, and they dissolved. Warriors 
dropped weapons and rope overboard as the juices ate away 
at whatever they covered. Now crewmen stripped their 
clothes and armor to use against the monster. Druik's arm 
was covered, and Haddad could see jelly flesh eating away 
at the Keldon. Chunks of the beast were flung up on 
Druik's skin at the fury of his attack.
    "I hope the cook hurries with the lye," the sailor 
said as he peeled away a long, gooey tentacle that spurted 
almost to the rail. Haddad and Fumash ran back and forth 
along their section of hull.
    "What does it do?" Haddad asked as he darted several 
feet to slice a limb off the hull.
    "Poisons it." An explosion made Haddad look over his 
shoulder before going back to his own battle. Latulla's 
spell had cleared the ship's side like a barber's razor, 
the line of fire hugging the hull and searing the 
monstrous flesh. Now several warriors ran to help other 
men clear their sections of the ship's side, while a few 
stayed to repulse any new assault.
    Haddad turned as a warrior shoved him aside. The 
warrior used his shield as a giant spoon to scoop runners 
of jelly free and back into the sea. Latulla stood with 
her staff raised, and a growing nimbus of fire enveloped 
the wood and her arms. Then she struck, and the fire dived 
into the sea, burrowing into the monster beneath the ship. 
But the jelly had no complex organ center to destroy. Her 
explosion, while impressive, didn't win the battle, but 
its aftereffects did change how the battle was fought. The 
screams started seconds after the blast. Haddad turned to 
see men writhing all over the deck in agony. Latulla's 
explosion had hurled the jelly's flesh and digestive 
juices over the crew. The assault on Haddad's section of 
the hull abated as suction from the explosion pulled the 
tentacles back into the water. Haddad turned all the way 
around and started to run to the other side. Tentacles 
were over the rail, and Haddad could see the contractions 
as they pumped a living pool of acid over the deck.
    Crew ran toward the cook who came on deck with a 
mixture of soap and water. The sight of men splashing 
almost boiling lye into their faces and on their wounds 
made Haddad determined that he would not touch the flesh 
of the gastro-jelly. It was Lord Druik who turned the 
battle.
    There were bodies now on deck-slumping piles of flesh 
that poured red into the tentacles and pools. The bodies 
emptied out like wineskins, and a rich wave of color raced 
back over the side into the sea. Tentacles draped down 
into the hold, contracting and raining more juices and 
jelly below with each second. Druik knocked men away from 
the cook and splashed his leg with the remains of the 
bucket.
    "Bring the rest up, damn you!" he screamed. Then the 
Keldon walked through the pooling jelly with a sword 
scraping along the railing. His body received several jets 
of fluid, but he only laughed and called for the men to 
fight. "Fight or cut your throats, cowards!" More buckets 
of diluted lye came and were sluiced over the deck. The 
tentacles withdrew or shriveled under the attack, but 
Haddad doubted it would be enough. Then he remembered the 
supplies that Latulla had packed below, and he called to 
her. She was crouched on the deck, and he could see the 
wood slowly charring as it heated around her. The jelly 
gave her a wide birth, but her defense would rapidly 
become a threat to the ship if she didn't stop.
    "Latulla, did you pack anything poisonous or 
reactive?" She glanced up at his shout and narrowed her 
eyes at his failure to use her title.
    "Yes, in the second crate," she called back. "The 
sacks are marked 'catalysts.' " Haddad threw himself into 
the hold before common sense could stop him. The area was 
dark with only a few shafts of light coming in. Most of 
the deck hatches were closed, and Haddad prayed he 
wouldn't be knee deep in jelly before he could find what 
he was looking for. The second crate was one that he had 
moved, and he hoped Latulla had given him the original 
loading number rather than one under her new scheme. He 
could see tentacles beginning to edge out of the bilge, 
and he skinned his hand badly as he hammered the seals 
loose with the butt of his knife. He threw out the 
containers, hoping he wouldn't poison himself as pottery 
and glass shattered. The interior of the crate was full of 
smaller crates that nestled Latulla's work in shock 
resistant packing.
    Finally he recognized the symbol for catalyst and 
broke the container open. Two large satchels lay inside, 
and he looked for a glove or scoop to spread it around. 
When tentacles forced him to hop onto another crate, he 
decided to chance death by poison.
    He cut the fasteners loose and took out a handful. It 
had the consistency of fine sand, and he threw it wide in 
a circle. Whatever it was, the jelly had no love for it. 
Where the sand touched, jelly flesh liquefied and then 
crusted over. Haddad began shouting as he rushed toward 
the open hatch where he had jumped down.
    "Fumash, I've found the answer." He hurled the fine 
sand to either side. Fumash looked down then skidded 
around to the other side of the hatch in response to the 
jelly flowing over the deck.
    "Then you better tell me now because I'm not going to 
be around much longer," Fumash shouted down. He had lost 
his pike and was holding a mop that scraped along the lip 
of the hatch. Haddad swore as the jelly fell toward him, 
and he nailed it with a pinch of the catalyst.
    "Spread this all around," he called and threw the 
sealed bag to the customs man. Fumash caught it and then 
drew out of sight.
    "Who's got a god-cursed knife?" he shouted on the 
deck, and Haddad heard shouts of relief as crewmen 
converged on Fumash. Remembering the mop laden with jelly, 
Haddad decided to head back up the hold for a stairway 
rather than trust a ladder. He had no desire for a jelly 
shower, and he dusted his way back up the hold even as 
shouts of triumph and victory began to sound on deck.
    When he reached the stair he had almost completely 
emptied the bag. He could only hope that it wouldn't be 
needed on deck. The shouting had died down, and he was 
careful to have a fistful of catalyst when he stepped into 
the afternoon light. The deck seemed safe, with many 
sailors tending the wounds of others. The captain was 
examining the deck and exterior of the hull carefully as 
he talked to Latulla.
    "I thought we were finished until that slave started 
using your powder. It's amazing stuff. We should carry it 
whenever we sail." His relief was obvious, and he still 
had the occasional tremor as his body shook off his 
adrenaline.
    "That catalyst was very valuable and difficult to 
obtain," Latulla stated, prodding the crusty remains of 
the jelly as she followed the officer. "It would be more 
effective to whip the lookouts so they carry out their 
duties."
    She looked at Haddad and the catalyst slowly dribbling 
from his hand. He immediately threw it into the sack and 
sealed it. He knew there would be no thanks or praise for 
his actions. He had gained her notice, however, and wished 
that he could reclaim her indifference. He left to find 
Fumash, wondering how his friend had fared. He couldn't 
find him as he went over the deck. His circuit took time 
as parts of the ship were covered with crusted jelly, and, 
dead or not, he was reluctant to walk on the remains. 
Approaching a crewman who was washing and bandaging 
another man's wound, he asked where Fumash was, fearing 
him lost.
    "The little fellow is fine, but his master, Lord 
Druik, took terrible wounds." The man's patient hissed in 
pain as a bandage was tied over his salved wounds. "They 
took him to his cabin, and you should find your friend 
there." Haddad thanked him and crossed to the other side 
of the ship, trying to stay out of Latulla's eye. The cook 
was just leaving Druik's cabin, a bundle of bloody clothes 
in his hand.
    In the dim light, Fumash was bent over the war leader, 
his hands gently smearing a thin paste over the Keldon's 
ribs. Long gaps showed muscle and even a glimpse of bone 
before Fumash's small hands covered it with paste. He 
looked up at Haddad briefly.
    "Give me another pad of gauze." His elbow knocked an 
empty bottle of brandy as he gestured to a pile of medical 
supplies on a chair opposite the bed. "This stuff is 
supposed to be good for burns. Maybe it will help." His 
shoulders tensed, and each move was deliberated.
    "Of course," Haddad said, handing another roll to 
Fumash, who started laying pads of the coarse weave over 
Druik's torso. The seeping wounds and salve glued the 
fabric down like patches on a coat. Haddad's eyes finished 
adjusting, and he considered Druik. Half-crippled he may 
have been before, but Haddad wondered how the Keldon could 
still be alive.
    His stumps from past amputations were wrapped and 
already treated, but the artificial limbs thrown to the 
side had seen hard service. The metal studs and buckles on 
the prosthetics were only lightly discolored, but the 
leather was eaten through in several places. Half of the 
straps lay open, and Haddad at first thought Druik's 
caregivers cut the limbs free. A closer look revealed that 
the jelly had dissolved right through the straps. If more 
had given way, Druik would have fallen face first into the 
digestive mass of the beast.
    "He was lucky," whispered Haddad.
    Fumash slapped him, hitting hard enough that Haddad 
tasted blood as he looked at his friend.
    "Lucky?" He pulled aside the sheet that half-covered 
Druik's good side. The arm was already wrapped, but even 
through the bandages Haddad could see how misshapen it 
was. Dimples and pits showed on the surface of the cloth 
and hinted at the gaps beneath. Druik's leg was still 
mercifully covered, but the heavy spotting on the clean 
sheet and the strange lay and contortion of the limb 
hinted that Druik had lost it as surely as he had lost his 
other leg in a battle long past.
    "Someone has got to take it off." Fumash nodded to the 
limb. "Chances are almost sure that I will get stuck with 
the job." Haddad swallowed his gorge at the thought. By 
viewing it as just an image, he could control his stomach, 
but the thought of doing more damage made him sick. At the 
sight of his distress, Fumash managed a small grim smile.
    "Lift his torso up. I need to wrap his ribs." Fumash 
was holding a long linen wrap that he had picked up as 
Druik's injuries hypnotized Haddad.
    "Shouldn't a surgeon be doing this?" Haddad asked, 
though he slowly moved into position to lift at the 
shoulders.
    "As a slave, I am in his household and responsible for 
caring for him," Fumash replied as he twirled the wrap 
into a roll that could easily pass under Druik. "And if 
there was a way to get someone else to help with these 
little jobs, I wouldn't be talking to you. Now lift," he 
ordered.
    Haddad slowly raised the Keldon's upper body. Druik 
made no intelligible sound, but Haddad could feel each 
breath and the warmth of the gray living flesh.
    "Why isn't he screaming with pain?" Haddad asked as 
the breathing continued without interruption.
    "He's had enough drugs and alcohol that I think he's 
going to die," Fumash replied as he continued to wrap the 
form of his master. "If he lives, it will be in spite of 
my ignorance, not because of my doctoring. Besides," he 
continued, "I certainly wouldn't want to live in this 
condition."
    Haddad looked to the door, hoping no one was within 
hearing distance.
    "Don't say that," he whispered to Fumash. His friend 
misunderstood him as he continued his task.
    "He's been a good master in comparison to some, but I 
am not here by choice," Fumash said as he began to secure 
the sheath of cloth with a series of strategic tucks and a 
long pin. "I might even like him, but he is the enemy, and 
I would leave him dying if offered the chance."
    "What do you mean?" Haddad said, forgetting 
circumspection. "We're leaving tomorrow night. The crew 
has fought a battle, and we need to leave before they 
recover."
    "The captain will be especially vigilant after this, 
and there is no way I am going to sneak out of this cabin. 
I am on a deathwatch and will be expected to stay here 
until he dies or recovers. Even if he dies, death rites 
will demand my presence." Fumash was bitter, but his hands 
motioned Haddad to gently lower Druik to the rough 
mattress. "If he survives at least two more days, I might 
be able to leave. You will have to escape for both of us." 
Fumash tried to give Haddad a smile but couldn't manage 
it.
    "I can barely stand in a small boat," Haddad said, 
"much less sail on the open sea. If you don't go then I 
can't go." He realized that bolder action would be 
required. "We go in two nights or die trying. If you are 
with someone, slave or Keldon, kill him and meet me at the 
ship's boat. I am not expected to serve Latulla and am not 
closely watched, I, too, will kill if I must."
    Fumash was doubtful about their chances, and it 
showed. He had been a slave for a longer time and was used 
to pushing hope farther and farther into the future.
    "We have to leave, Fumash." Haddad gripped his own 
shirt and it tore as he tried to rein in the anger 
threatening to explode at this sign of doubt. "Every day 
that we stay we shrink and lose a little bit more of 
ourselves. If you don't run you'll be as crippled and 
helpless as Druik is now." He laid his hand on his 
friend's arm and finally received a nod of agreement. The 
decision and near-resignation was plain in Fumash's eyes 
as he turned to the medical kit and began withdrawing 
implements for amputating the destroyed leg.
    A Keldon guard came in as Haddad tried to nerve 
himself up for the possible operation. The warrior 
advanced into the room with his head lowered as a sign of 
respect for the fallen lord.
    "You are commanded to appear before your mistress, 
slave," he said to Haddad. Despite the harshness of the 
words, the Keldon sounded almost polite. The warrior 
turned to Fumash. "I will assist you in what needs to be 
done."
    Fumash gave Haddad a quick nod and showed two fingers 
where the guard could not see them.
    "Two days," the small man mouthed.
    Haddad nodded quickly. Two days until escape from the 
ship. As Haddad left to serve his mistress's pleasure, 
Fumash turned back to the instruments.
    "You've been down in the hold since the attack," were 
Latulla's opening words. "Was there any damage to the 
cargo besides the crate you broke open?" The lack of 
gratitude firmed up Haddad's plan to escape even over her 
dead body.
    "I don't know," Haddad said as the injustice of her 
implied criticism sank in. "I was busy trying to kill the 
beast and help save the ship." Latulla's flat stare 
reminded him that he lived at her sufferance.
    The captain and Latulla stood at the entrance to the 
hold after finishing the survey of the deck. Haddad could 
see two sailors down among the cargo searching for more 
remains of the gastro-jelly, the nearly empty bags of 
catalyst ready in their hands.
    "Considering how much damage it did to the crew and 
ropes up here, who knows how much cargo was devoured when 
it pooled in the hold?" The captain had survived the 
attack but worry about his cargo threatened to overwhelm 
his relief.
    "Fetch the inventory that you prepared, check my 
crates, and then the rest of the cargo," Latulla ordered 
Haddad. "Report to me as soon as you and the captain are 
finished. I will be in my quarters or with Lord Druik." 
She turned and walked away.
    Haddad waited until the warriors in the hold finished 
their search for any living jelly. He didn't care how 
quickly Latulla wanted him to get to work. After the all 
clear, he went carefully down into darkness with other 
crew who the captain detailed to the task. Haddad set 
lanterns alight in the dark comers, and no one gainsaid 
him even though light poured in through the open deck 
hatches.
    Except for the one Haddad broke into, Latulla's crates 
survived the battle without a scratch. In the farther hold 
it was a different story. The monster had poured through 
the upper hatches and landed on the supplies of biscuits 
and other provisions. The mound had spread over other 
crates, and a few had given way, their contents strewn 
among the remains of the beast.
    "We need to clear this hold and check everything," 
said a Keldon mate. The first few attempts to shovel the 
monster's remains into a barrel for disposal were very 
tentative. The odor and settling of the remains when the 
first shovel broke the crust sent men stumbling back. But 
under the repeated orders from the Keldon mate, the crew 
began to collect the mess and put it into barrels. A winch 
was quickly rigged on deck, and the barrels began rising 
out of the hold to dump their contents into the sea.
    "What shall we do with the stores that are 
contaminated?" asked a crewman who uncovered a container 
of cheese. The mate looked at the rounds covered in muck. 
He cut a wedge and saw how trails of digestive juices had 
eaten their way through like worms.
    "When in doubt, toss it out." Supplies went into the 
barrel and then whole containers of food were hauled up. 
Perhaps the captain disagreed with the mate when he saw 
containers of meat going up, but his own investigation of 
its purity overwhelmed even his iron stomach. It took 
hours to check every barrel and cask. Eventually the 
provisions not violated during the attack were separated 
out. More than half of the food, water, and spirits were 
emptied over the side, and the sober faces of sailors told 
Haddad that things were serious indeed.
    The corners of the hold were filled with crates that 
seemed to have escaped the touch of the devourer. But even 
after the long day that the crew had put in, there was no 
break. The captain rotated men from the deck to the hold. 
Haddad continued working except for a few trips to the 
deck for relief. He devoured an issue of rations that he 
ordered from the cook, letting him think that he was 
carrying it for a Keldon down in the hold. Latulla had 
tasked him to remain until the survey of damage was done, 
and his bravado wasn't yet strong enough for him to 
disobey.
    Haddad became more nervous when a wall of crates came 
down. Behind the booty stolen from the League were stasis 
boxes. The image of the eaten corpses he had found in 
another hold mingled in his mind with thoughts of the 
monster's ghastly appetite. He really did not want to open 
the boxes. Of course, the mate overseeing the crew did not 
solicit his opinion.
    "Crack them open," the officer ordered. He motioned 
two Keldon sailors forward, their strength necessary in 
the tight quarters.
    "All of them?" one of the Keldons asked incredulously.
    "Just the ones marked as occupied, fool." The mate 
pointed to a circle on the foot each of the forty or so 
crates. Most of the circles were broken, an arc left out, 
and Haddad quickly realized that only those with closed 
circles needed inspection. "We'll do those on top and 
several from the bottom." The crates were stacked three 
high and a cargo net was attached to cleats and bolts to 
prevent shifting in heavy seas.
    "You will open them, slave," the mate said and handed 
a lever to Haddad. The two crewmen swung a crate down, and 
Haddad set the iron bit in the latch. He levered it open 
in a rush, then took a deep breath as he forced the lid 
up, expecting a corpse. Instead there was only an armored 
warrior in stasis. A great sword lay clamped at his side, 
and at the warrior's feet lay a bag of coins spilling out 
stolen League silver. A Keldon warrior going home with 
riches squeezed from Haddad's homeland. No breath or 
movement from the body, but even as tired as Haddad was, 
he could tell that the man wasn't dead. There seemed to be 
an air of satisfaction and expectation to the still 
warrior. The Keldon lay ready to arise and conquer, and 
Haddad hated him. It was the same as they went down the 
line, until Haddad felt nothing except exhaustion as he 
opened the boxes to reveal the sleeping warriors within.
    "We'll need to check the bottom one just to be sure." 
The mate pointed to a single crate with a complete circle 
with two crates on top of it. He ordered two more crew to 
replace the sailors working with Haddad. Even for a race 
with gray skin, the two sailors looked listless. The mate 
did not relieve Haddad however, and the captured League 
soldier leaned against an open crate, trying not to 
collapse.
    Haddad couldn't muster the energy to think as he threw 
the last series of catches. When the lid opened, he looked 
on in confusion at the contents. The "body" had arms and 
legs and a head, but it wasn't alive. There were weapons 
and pieces of armor in the crate, but it was no Keldon 
warrior. Despite the brick colored skin that covered 
muscles and bones, Haddad was unsure if the figure had 
ever been alive. The body's skin looked like leather and 
was tightly drawn. The joints were swollen and the hands 
were a collection of walnuts strung together. The head was 
enclosed in a helmet, and Haddad felt his gorge 
momentarily rise. The body had no lower jaw, and Haddad 
felt sick at the thought of such an injury. But the skin 
and lines of the neck showed no trace of injury. Finally, 
the eyes were spheres of glass or crystal, and they stared 
out of lidless sockets. Haddad looked to the mate in 
confusion, and the officer advanced to get a better look 
at the contents.
    "A war manikin?" he exclaimed. "Why would anyone put a 
war manikin in a stasis box?" He stooped and looked over 
the humanoid device in puzzlement. Haddad gnawed at the 
inside of his cheeks, trying to wake up, to get a close 
look. The mate stopped Haddad's inspection as he closed 
the box, taking the lever from Haddad's hand to throw the 
latches shut.
    "One of the warriors in stasis must have decided to 
bring it home with him," the mate said out loud. "Actually 
a clever way to smuggle it back to Keld if he can get 
around the wake up ceremony when we reach port." He 
motioned for the crew to secure the crates again with the 
cargo net and bolt. "We'll leave it alone. None of our 
business, anyway."
    The crew was finished, and finally they all trooped up 
onto the deck. Haddad realized that night must have fallen 
hours ago, but he had lost track of time as lanterns were 
lit, and the work moved farther and farther into the 
depths of the hold. His exhaustion clouded his mind.
    "The captain and the artificer have retired," the 
sailor standing watch informed them as they stumbled 
around in the darkness. "They'll take reports in the 
morning." Haddad was thankful and followed the rest of the 
crew to bed.
    Haddad lay in his hammock minutes later, dreaming of 
the gastro-jelly eating and dissolving men until only a 
crippled Lord Druik was left, surrounded by ranks of what 
the mate named war manikins.

                          * * * * *

    The morning found Haddad barely aware but already 
ordered to report to Latulla. He was surprised to find the 
morning half gone and most of the company on deck standing 
beside empty stasis boxes. Many of the Keldon warriors who 
came aboard with Lord Druik were in armor and standing 
ready as if for battle. Haddad checked the horizon for 
signs of an enemy, but nothing was visible. It seemed a 
perfect day. The captain cleared his throat and addressed 
the company.
    "We took several casualties in the battle yesterday, 
but the ship has survived due to your efforts. I am proud 
to have you aboard as my crew." Hollow cheers sounded, but 
most were exhausted from the battle and its aftermath, and 
enthusiasm was lacking in their voices.
    "In spite of your bravery we still lost a substantial 
part of our cargo, and so we will all have to work harder 
and make some sacrifices." He looked to the horizon and 
spoke in a more serious tone. "We were carrying supplies 
for the ships we are to meet in three days. Keld needs 
those ships sailing and raiding in these waters. They 
can't withdraw to resupply without jeopardizing important 
plans. So to provide them with what they need we will have 
to transfer part of our own rations." A low murmur sprang 
up, but none of the crew seemed particularly surprised or 
upset.
    "We've neither the funds nor time to buy or raid for 
more, so we will have to consume less." He gestured to the 
stasis boxes. "We will put as many in stasis as we can. 
When we meet the fleet, we will take on their empty boxes 
and sail with as small a crew as possible. Lord Druik has 
volunteered to be first."
    Haddad doubted that Druik had spoken since the battle. 
High-ranking Keldons almost never entered the boxes 
because of the danger and loss of control that they 
experienced. It was means of cramming low-level warriors 
into ships and restraining supply costs, but pride 
overrode the economics. The crew murmured again in real 
surprise at the thought of a lord willing to endure a 
process that they were happy to avoid.
    When Fumash backed out of the cabin holding one end of 
a hatch cover, Haddad realized that the captain was 
serious and that Druik had survived through the night. 
Fumash and the crewmen helping him used the cut hatch as a 
crude stretcher. Once they were out of the hatchway, 
Haddad could see that the Keldon war leader had grown 
easier to carry. Fumash had amputated the leg, and Druik's 
remaining arm looked foreshortened as well, though the 
layers of bandages made an accurate assessment impossible. 
The fallen hero was still insensate, and Haddad hoped he 
stayed that way. He couldn't imagine waking up with his 
limbs gone. He was frankly surprised that someone had not 
eased Druik's passage into the next life already.
    "Bring him here." Latulla was standing beside the 
first open box. A burning censer and several bottles 
rested on a table moved up on deck. She was clad in her 
finest robes, and she laid a gold-embossed cane on the 
table. She began to arrange the ingredients.
    Fumash and the others shuffled up to the box, and at 
Latulla's wave, two of Druik's armed retainers advanced 
and slid his shrunken form into the box.
    "To sleep in the dreamless void," Latulla intoned as 
she opened a bottle and placed it between Druik's slack 
lips. The lord coughed as the liquid poured into his mouth 
and into his lungs. Latulla was muttering before he 
finally swallowed a proper dose.
    "He shall need no nourishment for a year and day." 
Latulla forced a second bottle and gave the lord a 
draught. Haddad could see the form stilling as each second 
passed. Finally, Latulla was satisfied that Druik was 
under. Haddad wondered how difficult it was to figure the 
proper doses for a man without limbs.
    "Finally, protection from decay, from the mouths of 
worms and the companions of the dead." Latulla picked up 
the censer and then looked at the flags and emblems on the 
masts to evaluate the direction of the wind. She shifted 
to keep the wind at her back and raised the censer. The 
crew shifted away from the path of the smoke, Haddad 
following and trying to move to the front of the group for 
a better view.
    Latulla hesitated and then waved Fumash closer. Haddad 
managed to reach the front rank and could hear her as she 
whispered to Lord Druik's personal slave.
    "The bandages need to be cut and more of the flesh 
exposed." She handed him a small knife and motioned him to 
begin. Fumash bent over the still form of his master and 
began cutting through the wrappings that he had so 
carefully tied over his master's wounds. Druik was totally 
removed from time but there was still fresh blood soaking 
in the pads placed over his wounds. Haddad turned his eyes 
and counted the boxes awaiting bodies. Almost thirty were 
open, and Haddad wondered how many more would be filled 
after they reached the supply point. At last, Fumash 
finished his task and stepped back from Druik.
    Latulla must have added something to the censer while 
Haddad was lost in thought. The censer boiled over like a 
kettle on the fire, and the smoke poured over the sides 
like water, filling the stasis box and hiding Druik from 
view. Some smoke lapped over the sides of the box and 
seemed to crawl like a snake over the deck before 
collapsing and disappearing. Latulla grew irritated as 
crew tried to avoid the excess vapor. If there was more to 
this internment ceremony, she cut it short and swung the 
heavy box lid closed. Fumash threw the final latches.
    "His guards will follow him into sleep now." Latulla 
waved the guards forward as a group and there were no more 
words as she processed them all at once. Each guard drank 
from a bottle and then quickly lay down in his new home. 
Latulla went down the line, forcing the second potion 
between their lips. Haddad could hear the bottle jamming 
and levering against teeth as Latulla acted with her 
customary regard for others. Then she stoked the censer 
till smoke geysered out. She walked it up and down the 
line of boxes as if watering a flowerbed, and finally the 
guards were closed up in their boxes.
    "It is fitting that Druik's servants travel with him."
    Fumash froze as other slaves advanced to stand before 
empty boxes. Latulla gripped him by the throat and sharply 
struck his hand with the base of a potion bottle. The 
knife he used to cut Druik's bandages fell to the deck. 
Haddad could only watch the surprise spreading slowly over 
Fumash's exhausted features as the potion poured down his 
throat. Latulla pushed him into an open box, and he fell 
into oblivion. Latulla administered the doses, and Druik 
and his entire household were sealed up.
    There were still a few open boxes, and from the 
restlessness of the crew, it was obvious that a new crop 
of bodies was going to be laid to rest. The captain walked 
toward the group and drew out the unwilling volunteers by 
touching their arms and pushing them toward the open 
boxes. A mate selected crew to transfer the full boxes to 
the hold. Latulla called Haddad forward. He advanced, but 
his eyes were locked on the boxes as he walked closer. 
Latulla smacked his head with her cane from the table. 
After his vision cleared, she thrust a small container of 
paint and a brush into his hands.
    "Check the latches, and use the paint to close the 
circles." She turned to process the crew waiting for her 
and her potions. Haddad knelt down by Druik's box and 
checked it thoroughly. He dipped the brush into the inky 
black paint and closed the circle at the box's end. He 
went down the line of boxes quickly but paused when he 
came to the one containing Fumash. All of their plans had 
been ruined by this mischance. When they first plotted to 
escape, Haddad had expected to taste freedom tonight. Now 
his chances were much slimmer. He didn't know sailing or 
the surrounding waters, but he must make the break alone. 
Fumash was going to Keld, as surely as a doomed soul sank 
into the underworld. Haddad continued past his friend and 
soon caught up to Latulla. The last few crewmen waited to 
be processed, and Haddad was surprised to see Latulla's 
personal steward from the ship's crew among them. He was 
smiling-the first happy man Haddad had seen lowered into a 
box. Haddad thought sourly that he would be waiting on his 
mistress now and understood the man's happiness. The 
fading bruises Latulla had provided the steward stood out 
against his pallor as Latulla finished administering the 
second draught. The censer streamed smoke, and Haddad 
swung the lid closed on the steward. The captain 
approached Latulla as Haddad closed the latches and 
prepared to close the circle with an arc of paint.
    "It's going to be difficult working with a crew this 
small after all the casualties and filling up these 
boxes." The captain patted the back of the crewman waiting 
to enter the last box.
    "Of course I realize the difficulties, Captain," 
Latulla replied, resting the now quiescent censer on the 
deck. "That is why I have decided to make my own sacrifice 
to the common good." She rested the shaft of her cane on 
Haddad's shoulder with a gentle tap.
    "My last personal slave will rest in one of these 
boxes till we reach Keld to give you another able seaman." 
Her words were expansive and generous sounding, but the 
metal figurehead on the cane's end rested against Haddad's 
Adam's apple. She drew him upright and close to the box. 
The denial and fear in his eyes didn't surprise Latulla, 
and she twisted the metal head of the cane under his jaw, 
forcing his head back to administer the sleeping draft. 
She pushed him into the last box, and his skull rang off 
of the bottom. He opened his mouth to yell, and the second 
drink was poured down his throat. Latulla was standing 
over him and watching his sputters and tremors of fear 
with a smile. Had she discovered his plans for escape or 
was this payback for his perceived lack of respect? He saw 
the enjoyment in her eyes as his limbs grew heavy. She 
enjoyed the fear he radiated as his entombment continued. 
His eyes were only starting to close as the smoke from the 
censer obscured his vision. He could feel the heavy vapor 
settling over his clothing and coating his face as he 
heard the lid swing shut and the latches close.
    
                        Chapter 8

    When Teferi sent Barrin to the blimp hangar 
construction site on the eastern frontier, the wizard 
considered himself fortunate. Barrin's task was to learn 
all he could about the systems supporting Teferi's 
military and to perhaps adapt what he had learned to 
Urza's forces. The building of a new hangar complex gave 
him that chance.
    Teferi was kind enough to 'walk Barrin to his 
ornithopter-in mid-flight. Yarbo started as Barrin 
appeared with the planeswalker, and then Teferi vanished 
back to his blimp.
    "Fly us to the new airbase," the wizard ordered, and 
the pilot turned the craft. Soon the coastline appeared, 
and Barrin compared it to the maps he had received. Yarbo 
winged inland, arriving over the growing base in minutes. 
He put the machine down on a landing pad. People converged 
on Barrin as he exited his craft.
    "Tell me you are here to take over this madhouse," a 
man said as he rushed to the landing craft.
    "I am just an observer, here with Teferi's approval," 
Barrin replied.
    "Another little job for me to handle!" the man 
shouted, and he began stomping around the ornithopter, 
cursing. Several other members of the construction team 
hurried up and began unloading the baggage and gear. 
Barrin noticed several tubes of plans being unloaded and 
turned to his pilot Yarbo for an explanation.
    "Since I was flying to pick you up, I was asked to 
bring a set of plans to Willum, the master builder." Yarbo 
looked at the apparent madman still stomping around in a 
circle. "That must be the man you are supposed to observe 
and copy." At Barrin's look of ire, the pilot quickly 
grabbed his personal bag and ran after the withdrawing 
construction workers. Willum orbited back to Barrin, and 
the wizard quickly schooled his face into its usual 
serious mien.
    The man was short and his skin red from recent 
exposure to the sun. He was heavy and in the rough work 
clothes of a skilled construction worker. His limbs were 
thick with muscle but lacked the definition of an athlete. 
His expression was angry but seemed directed at the world 
at large, not at Barrin standing before him.
    "Willum is the name. I manage the circus you've come 
to see." He extended his hand as he spoke, and Barrin 
gripped it. The wizard could feel the calluses and the 
strength behind them.
    "I am Barrin, and there is no need to dance attendance 
on me. I am here to see how things are done. I'll just 
follow along or perhaps you can gift a junior with me if 
you are busy." Barrin wanted a smooth working relationship 
with the people he observed, and the impromptu war dance 
suggested he might spend more time fighting with Willum 
than learning from him.
    "If you want to learn about the whole operation then 
you better stay with me," Willum answered, turning and 
beginning to walk to the construction site in the 
distance. "I am tasked with putting this together and am 
the best authority you could hope to find here. Besides, 
maybe you can help me." Barrin walked quickly to catch up. 
"I've yelled long enough," Willum continued, "it's time I 
took a break." He chuckled, and Barrin realized that 
Willum's temper was a tool as carefully wielded as any 
other in finishing the job.
    "Okay," Barrin said. "Then perhaps you can answer a 
question for me. Why is a base for naval patrols so far 
from the sea?" They were almost twelve miles inland, and a 
range of low hills blocked easy access to the ocean.
    "We're an airbase, and while we work in conjunction 
with surface units, none are based here." Willum walked 
the site perimeter. "We have sea access and shipping from 
a river about a mile north of here." He pointed to a 
graded and graveled road that entered a screen of trees. 
"Remember that the former eastern airbase was burned by 
raiders. It's rugged country if they come from the coast, 
and the river adds miles to the trip inland. That's if 
they get past the fort we placed at the mouth." Willum 
spoke with pride as he considered the defensive 
arrangements. He stood on a low berm and gestured in all 
directions. "This is the best point to see everything," he 
said.
    Barrin stood beside him and looked to the road that 
carried cargo from the river. A collection of tanks and 
piping sat in a depression. Barrin noticed the fresh sod 
and the regularity of the slope and realized that massive 
amounts of dirt must have been moved to create the dip.
    "Why did you lower the ground there?" Barrin asked. 
The works served no obvious defensive purpose, and while 
the strange construction was hidden from a distance, 
aesthetics was an unlikely reason for so much labor.
    "That is where we will be breaking down and refining 
the tufa," Willum replied as he looked on the workers 
connecting pipes and digging additional pits for storage. 
"The stuff it throws off is pretty volatile, and I decided 
that lowering the works would help protect the rest of the 
site in case of accident. Also, some of the vapors can be 
dangerous even if they don't burn, and the geometry of the 
digging sends the fumes out toward the trees instead of 
the hangars. The biggest trouble was making sure we had 
year-round drainage." Willum kicked at the turf that his 
men cut and laid down after they finished building the 
rise. "The ground can turn to quicksand in rain, and 
during part of the year there's a lot of standing water in 
this country. I didn't want a part-time lake interfering 
with refinery operations.
    "But the hangars are the real heart of the operation 
and the bottleneck to the whole naval strategy," Willum 
said as they walked into the site. As they got closer, 
Barrin began to grasp the sheer scale of the endeavor, and 
it was impressive even when compared to the huge air sheds 
maintained for the dirigibles that flew under Urza's flag.
    "We have already set the foundations for two hangars," 
Willum said. "Each will be almost a thousand feet long and 
nearly two hundred feet high at the roof." Barrin could 
barely grasp the scale of how huge the buildings would be. 
An army of thousands could be massed in each of the 
buildings with ornithopters flying inside. An entire fleet 
could be constructed from the wood used on site. Within 
the year, ten acres would be domed over.
    "Why so large?" Barrin asked. "Surely building on such 
a remote site makes this type of construction almost 
impossible."
    "Teferi states that we are building for the ages, and 
we shouldn't let the flock of small craft we fly now limit 
the size of our facilities," Willum answered. Barrin 
thought of Teferi's heavily armed whale of a command ship 
and wondered just how large the planeswalker's dreams were 
for his aerial fleet. "As you can see, we are setting up 
the door supports for both hangars before we begin 
construction of the walls."
    Four sets of wooden structures laid out the comers of 
the hangars to come. They were all set on massive concrete 
pedestals. Men were completing work even as Barrin 
watched. Huge cranes overtopped even the soaring gate 
towers.
    "Unfortunately, we don't have adequate men or 
materials to work on both structures at once with all the 
auxiliary buildings we are constructing." He gestured 
toward a barrack, the new wood looking raw even from 
Barrin's distant viewpoint. "If we can increase the flow 
of supplies, maybe we can start construction on the second 
hangar."
    The field along one side of the proposed hangar was 
covered with stacks of lumber. Groups of workmen were 
bolting and fitting together huge sections of arches. As 
they drew closer, Barrin saw three great cranes being 
positioned with the largest secured close to the field.
    "The timbers are all precut, and once they are 
assembled, the large crane will pass them along to the 
other cranes, and then they will all be raised at once."
    A network of narrow trenches crisscrossed the ground 
before them, and Willum turned to walk the length of the 
proposed structure. At Barrin's glance, he briefly 
explained, "Drainage, remember. Eventually I'll receive a 
load of sewer pipe and be able to fill them in. Right now, 
it's trust a plank or jump over them." Willum demonstrated 
that he was able to navigate the hazard by leaping over a 
water-filled obstacle as Barrin followed.
    "This is all very impressive, but I am more interested 
in the problems you're having now than the plans you have 
for the future," Barrin told him.
    "My problem is we are out in the middle of nowhere, 
and everything has to be brought onsite." Willum waved at 
the stacks of cut lumber. "We've trees all over this 
country and upriver, but because I can't get the men or 
materials, there's no way to cut and mill them." He 
pointed in the direction of the river. "Every stick and 
brick I need has to be barged from along the coast to the 
western ports and then hauled upriver and trundled along 
one road." He began to stomp heavily, showing his temper. 
"The stinking sea monsters and the bloody Keldons seem to 
sink about one in three before they can get here, and you 
can imagine how that screws up my schedule." Barrin 
wondered how many men were dying for that schedule.
    Willum clenched his fists in frustration. "Not that I 
have enough men for the materials I do get. I've scraped 
through every city to find decent construction workers, 
and I have them cooking, gathering firewood, and trying to 
get around a lack of basic necessities." He was beginning 
to wave his arms now, and Barrin prudently stepped away to 
avoid an unlucky blow. "We need a town and farms here, or 
this base will never get done in time or keep enough 
blimps flying."
    "Surely you have communicated your problems to 
Teferi."
    Barrin placated the distraught man. It only provoked 
heavier stomping and wider gestures.
    "I'm not a fool. Of course I've communicated my 
concerns to higher command, and I received one blimp for 
escort duty." Willum considered the blimp in the distance 
with narrowed eyes. "One blimp that is available perhaps 
two weeks a month because it has to fly west for 
maintenance and rearming. I can barely get it to deliver 
my mail much less protect my shipping. The rest of the air 
fleet is always far out at sea or flying from western 
ports. Hell, this airbase is supposed to stop Keldon 
raids, and until I get it constructed, I'm naked." Willum 
seethed at the paradox that only after he constructed the 
airbase would shipments of building supplies become sure.
    The builder turned to Barrin with intensity and 
decision plain in his eyes. "If you want to see and do 
something important, figure out how to guard my shipping 
or there won't be much to see."
    Barrin wondered how he could control a stretch of 
nearly deserted coast for hundreds of miles with only a 
single blimp and a heavy ornithopter. The blimp left on 
patrol before he could interview its crew. As he thought, 
he realized that he didn't need to patrol the open sea. 
What needed air cover were the supply ships. Barrin 
resolved to fly to the shipping port to get a handle on 
the supply problem.

                          * * * * *

    The morning was crisp as Barrin walked to the 
ornithopter. The ground was covered with a light frost 
melting in the early sunlight. The shipping port of Kitani 
lay only an hour's flight away. It was time to take 
command of the supply line and expedite construction of 
the airbase.
    Teferi was counting on patrols flying out of the 
hangars, and their construction depended on timely 
shipments. Barrin was going to convince the shippers to be 
bolder. As he clambered into his ornithopter, he wondered 
how angry he should be when he met the leaders of Kitani.
    He settled into his machine, and it rose into the air 
swiftly. He looked at the airbase shrinking below him and 
saw once more how isolated it truly was. Barrin flew over 
the sea of forest green and soon the gray of the ocean was 
beneath his craft. The coast was rocky, and Barrin glanced 
at the waves beating on cliffs and narrow beaches. The 
violence of the waves evoked images of the Keldons waiting 
to attack these shores. The raiders must be stopped out at 
sea, or, like a tidal wave, they would wash over the 
coastal towns. This land was under his protection now. He 
thought on how to defend it as the flight continued.
    The first sign that something was wrong was a magical 
call that washed over him like a bucket of ice water.
    "This is Kitani. We are under attack from Keldon 
raiders. At least two ships have landed, and warriors are 
inside the city. Any League forces within range. This is 
Kitani ..." The message repeated, an ethereal cry for 
help. Barrin thought on how thinly stretched the League 
was and realized that he might be the only aid the city 
could expect. He accelerated to his maximum speed and 
wondered if he would reach Kitani in time.
    The port city appeared in the distance. Smoke was 
beginning to rise, and Barrin could tell that fires burned 
in several places. Soon piers and docks showed, with many 
of the warehouses and boatyards engulfed in flame. Two 
Keldon warships were tied up, their decks nearly deserted.
    The raiders must already be in town, Barrin thought. 
But where are the League forces?
    Then he saw flames devouring wreckage on a beach 
outside of the city. A blimp had crashed and was burning. 
The pile of debris suddenly shattered in a series of 
explosions as munitions cooked off. The flames were green 
and purple and rose toward the heavens. The concussion 
rocked Barrin's ornithopter as he swooped to land. Then 
flaming fragments struck his craft as he hit the ground in 
a controlled crash. Flaming brands fell everywhere, and he 
knew that his first priority was stopping the fires or he 
would lose the town.
    Barrin threw himself outside and coughed as the smoke 
and haze swept over him. He steadied himself and cast his 
magic into the sky. His power ballooned over the town and 
his mind peered down into the city streets. Fighting 
spread from house to house, but it was the fires that 
grabbed his attention. The figures of League marines faded 
from his thoughts as he grounded his power into the sea. 
Now clouds filled the sky and the sea steamed as water 
catapulted itself into Barrin's dome of power. The sky was 
black and rumbling with thunder as more and more water 
collected in the air. The sky reached maximum saturation, 
and then it released as the storm began. Water poured in, 
driving rain that extinguished many of the fires in an 
instant. Fighting in the town slowed as men flattened 
under the force of the water. The most intense 
conflagrations were hit harder as Barrin concentrated on 
them. Wind threw a river of water into buildings, and the 
hiss of steam could be heard over the storm. Barrin turned 
his attention to the Keldon ships, but even as he 
concentrated and rallied his power, another magic user 
latched onto the storm.
    Fountains of power reared up on the docks and 
congealed into crystalline towers of magic. Barrin could 
feel the sharp recoil as new magic speared the storm. He 
readied for a counter stroke, but the taste of the magic 
was so familiar. He realized that it reminded him of the 
League distress call. Lightning flowed from the storm into 
the crystals, and then arcs of energy sheared into the 
Keldon vessels. Decks seared and exploded as the power 
flowed over the ships. Sailors were charred as the Keldons 
rushed to respond. Barrin felt admiration for the unknown 
ally, but he could feel the Keldon mages preparing a 
response as the League magic cleared the decks.
    "We have no time," Barrin said as he detected more 
fighting within the city. People were dying, and Barrin 
resolved to finish the Keldon ships now. His mind 
clenched, and sheet lightning blinded him as he directed 
his will. The energy surge hit the crystal towers, and 
they detonated in a white flash, tearing through the 
Keldon ships. One craft exploded as Keldon magic 
interacted with Barrin's strike, and debris flew 
everywhere. The other ship was gutted as a wound opened 
from stem to stern. Keldons died in agony as arcs of power 
played over them. The sea filled the hull almost 
instantly, and the ship settled, its decks soon 
underwater.
    Barrin gasped, bent over with strain as his mind 
disengaged from the sky. The storm continued, but the rain 
lightened as his will no longer directed the deluge. 
Barrin straightened and headed into the city, preparing 
himself to meet the Keldons at close quarters.
    The streets were narrow and cobblestone. The buildings 
were stone and timber, and rain poured from tiled roofs. 
Here and there structures smoldered and stank as the 
continuing rain drenched materials that had burned only 
minutes before. Barrin turned a corner, and suddenly a 
sword flashed. But the attack stopped before Barrin 
responded. A League marine stood before him with a small 
target shield, his sword ready. Water poured from his 
helmet and armor as he saluted.
    "Sir, if you would come with me to the captain, sir!" 
He turned and ran deeper into town. Barrin followed, 
bemused by his instant acceptance. The marine went past a 
series of barricades, and Barrin could see corpses as they 
continued up the street.
    "How did you know I was coining?" Barrin asked. The 
marine paused to check around a corner before continuing.
    "We have scouts running the roofs, and they reported 
you landing," the marine replied. "We assumed that you had 
something to do with the storm,"
    Barrin nodded, but the marine darted around the corner 
before he could continue. A long street lay before them, 
and a barricade was at each end. A company of men and war 
machines stood ready, and Barrin got a glimpse of more 
soldiers in other buildings.
    "The magic user from the beach," the scout reported to 
the officer in charge. Smoke and ash had darkened the 
officer's skin and uniform, and he grinned as Barrin came 
up.
    "Excellent attack, Lord Barrin," the officer said, 
noting the mage's surprise. "All naval and marine commands 
were notified of your arrival on the coast. Can we expect 
more reinforcements soon?" He peered behind Barrin as if 
watching for more arrivals.
    "I'm afraid that no one else is with me," Barrin 
stated. "I wouldn't count on any more help for quite some 
time."
    The officer swore and turned to consider the street. 
The marines were armed with swords, shields, and light 
armor. Several stood ready with short bows, and Barrin 
could see other bowmen creeping along the roofs on one 
side of the street. Barrin regarded the war machines that 
he could see. Most were steel ants, the machines dripping 
water and some lubricants. Most were battered, and a few 
were missing limbs. Barrin wondered how heavy the fighting 
had been. Two machines towered over the rest. These were 
marine mantises-six-legged bodies at waist height with 
rearing towers for torsos that overtopped the marines 
standing beside them. Their heads were insectile and large 
with great mandibles covered with blood from today's 
fighting. Each had the two arms folded against its body, 
and Barrin could see flesh and cloth caught in the barbed 
surfaces. Then Barrin detected the rising of familiar 
magic and walked closer to the barricade, stepping up onto 
a cart for a better view.
    Standing on the other side of the barricade was an 
athletic-looking Jamuraan woman with straight black hair. 
Barrin could feel the power rushing through her frame. She 
was wearing a soaked blue cloak with an intricate black 
and white checker pattern across the front, and she looked 
tiny-nearly lost-under the wet cloth. Two marines crouched 
next to her with large shields, tensed as if waiting to 
interpose themselves between her and danger. She flung her 
arms wide and three crystalline tops appeared and raced 
down the street. Each top spun and glowed with inner fire 
as they dodged around bodies, heading for the open doors 
of a building midway down the road. Suddenly shutters flew 
up, and Keldon warriors stood revealed, hurling weapons 
and debris at the tops. Two shattered, and the pieces 
tumbled to the ground before dissolving into the aether. 
Marine archers on the roofs of the buildings across the 
street shot volleys of arrows, sending warriors for cover. 
The surviving top curved into the entrance and exploded. 
Barrin could see blue knives of crystalline magic flying 
back out of the entrance and thudding into buildings 
across the sheet.
    "Damn," the woman swore as she crouched behind the 
shields her two marines had raised. "I thought I'd get two 
inside." The marine captain stepped forward and waved her 
down.
    "This is Alexi, Lord Barrin," he said. "She was a mage 
on a blimp and had the misfortune to be shot down outside 
of town."
    "Lucky for you I survived," she said hotly. "I wonder 
how you would have done without me." She glowered briefly. 
"I've been making those swine pay for my crew all 
afternoon, and if I could get some support we could finish 
them now!"
    The captain shrugged and turned apologetically to 
Barrin. "We have pinned the raiders in the warehouses on 
one side of the street. We can't surround the building, 
and eventually the raiders are going to chop another 
entrance and escape."
    "Why not blow open the buildings and send your 
machines in under cover fire from the archers?" Barrin 
asked. Alexi seemed powerful enough, and with his aid they 
could peel the complex like a grape.
    "We thought of that, but the building contains 
essential supplies that explosions and heavy weapons would 
damage. The place must be taken by hand to hand, and 
storming the entrances is going to be bloody. I'd wait, 
but Alexi says there's at least one Keldon mage in there. 
He'll burn the place down, or his soldiers will, if we 
wait much longer. And without their ships they are going 
to try to destroy the rest of the town. We will attack in 
five minutes." The captain visibly tensed up as he 
prepared to give the order.
    "Wait, Captain," Barrin said with authority. "If Alexi 
and I were to screen your attack until you entered the 
building, you could achieve maximum surprise and avoid 
casualties during you charge. Let me confer with Alexi for 
a moment, and then you can send your orders." The captain 
looked as if a division had appeared to support him and 
went to talk to his soldiers in better humor.
    "Screen them how?" Alexi whispered as the captain 
withdrew.
    "First, how many mages are in that building?" Barrin 
asked.
    "There's just one opposing mage left, but those 
buildings are crammed with munitions, refined tufa oil, 
and essential naval stores. The first thing the mage will 
do is destroy it all, and perhaps the town, when we break 
in. We'll destroy the place ourselves if we throw anything 
too powerful. My tops and light-knives are as strong as I 
dare use." Alexi looked disgusted at the curbs to her 
power and thirst for battle.
    "I can prevent the Keldons from seeing the charge, and 
I can smother the efforts of just one mage," Barrin said 
with confidence. "But I can't keep it up forever, so the 
marines need to take that building quickly."
    "I will push the attack myself." She said. "When will 
you be ready?"
    "As soon as I get into a better viewing position," 
Barrin replied and went to speak to the captain. Within 
minutes new orders were flying, and Barrin made his way to 
the roofs with the archers. He half-crawled over the roof 
across from the main warehouse entrance. He seated himself 
and began to call up his power. He imagined the world as a 
painting, scenery coming into existence as he maneuvered 
his imaginary canvas into position in front of the 
warehouse. Archers poured from the roof down stairwells as 
Barrin signaled that his illusion was in place. The League 
marines began to walk down the street quietly and 
carefully, a few soldiers left at the barricade making as 
much noise as possible to cover the shuffling of feet. 
Steel ants and the mantises were hand guided for maximum 
silence. Barrin felt the illusion firming, and he began 
raising more power. The most difficult part was masking 
his magic so as to remain undetected. Barrin infiltrated 
the warehouse with subtle spells, feeling for the knot of 
energy that was the enemy mage. More power licked into the 
structure as Barrin filled it with his awareness and will.
    Alexi was with the column below, and she began the 
attack. Her power instantly created five spinning tops 
that darted into the entrance. They exploded into showers 
of blue knives that cut living flesh to ribbons. Steel 
ants followed the tops and mounted internal barricades 
manned by dying Keldons, falling upon warriors rushing to 
reinforce. Barrin's mind could follow the attack, and he 
watched as Keldons fell to pieces under metal mandibles. 
Shouting raiders rallied their men and charged the 
machines with swords and axes that smashed metal armor and 
removed mechanical limbs. Marines poured in and firmed the 
League lines. The mantises moved to attack the Keldon 
leaders, and the core of the defense broke as long steel 
arms darted out, lopping off limbs and heads of those 
opposing the war machines.
    Barrin felt the rush of power as the Keldon mage acted 
to turn the attack. Barrin submerged the mage in a sea of 
stillness. The enemy mage drew more power but could 
initiate no spell against Barrin's might. Alexi was inside 
now, and her spells lanced into the Keldon line. Knives of 
light cut a bloody swath into the building. Barrin could 
feel the Keldon mage trying to cast a spell-any spell- but 
the power he had called to him had no outlet. The enemy 
wizard fell to his knees and clutched at his face, his 
eyes rolling back into his head. Smoke began to rise from 
the man's shoulders and limbs, and the Keldon magic user 
burst into brilliant red flames. Alexi and the other 
League forces gave the burning pile a wide berth as they 
closed on the remaining raiders. Then, just as suddenly as 
they had ignited, the brilliant fire went out, leaving 
only a huge black scorch mark on the floor.
    Barrin rose and looked with his mortal eyes into the 
street and through the open doorway and shutters of the 
warehouse. Bodies lay everywhere with streams of blood 
connecting the corpses. The League had won but at a 
ruinous cost to the marines and the town. Now, more than 
ever, Barrin was determined to stop the Keldons at sea. He 
already knew the first thing he would requisition from 
this town. He went to inform Alexi that she would now be 
serving under his command.
    
                        Chapter 9

    "Keldon coming in-about twenty miles south of your 
position," came the call.
    "Finally!" Alexi exclaimed and ran from her bunk to 
the detector station. It had been nearly a month since the 
pitched battle at Kitani, and today's was the first enemy 
detected off the coast since then. Barrin had acted 
quickly in the aftermath of the battle and began patrols 
to intercept the Keldon raiders at sea. Shipments of 
materials to the airbase construction site were increased. 
No League supply ships had been sunk for the past month, 
but now the Keldons were renewing their attack as Barrin 
worked to reestablish command over coastal waters.
    Alexi and Barrin were out on patrol in a Kashan blimp 
screening a supply fleet hauling the last loads of vital 
construction supplies. The Keldons had chosen the perfect 
time to attack.
    Barrin stood at the blimp detection equipment, casting 
a spell into a shallow bowl of seawater. His eyes looked 
out on a vast expanse of sea, and he could feel Alexi 
pushing her senses into the magic.
    "Tell Yarbo we have the target and he is to search for 
supporting units," Barrin said to the communications 
officer.
    Alexi ran from her bunk to the detection gear. Now 
that a battle was close at hand, she showed the streak of 
fastidiousness that Barrin had found endearing. It 
reminded him of his daughter, Hannah, when she was very 
young.
    "How long till they're in range, Barrin?" she asked.
    "If they don't try to shear off, ten minutes. Though 
they might not see us at all until it's too late." Barrin 
had worked with the crew in altering the natural color 
scheme of the envelope until it was harder to see against 
the sky. The Avenging Cloud was easy to lose against its 
namesakes.
    "There it is," Barrin said and pointed down. Alexi 
regarded the images conjured up by Barrin. A tiny fleet of 
Keldon ships appeared to float in the bowl. Several ships 
were accelerating toward the League convoy. The ships 
began to spread out and hazy smoke began to rise from 
fires burning in great kettles on the decks. The bowl of 
water that Barrin held between his hands clouded and only 
glimpses of ships could be seen.
    "They are spreading out to fall on the supplies," 
Barrin said to Alexi. "Tell the pilot to head northwest. 
We will take them on one at a time." Alexi ran forward to 
relay the order.
    Barrin began calling for League reinforcements via 
magic, but the Keldons' spells of deceit were spreading 
everywhere. There was serious power aboard those ships, 
and Barrin decided that his power was better saved for 
combat than used to call for help that might not arrive. 
He directed the communications officer to send out a 
distress call, and the old wizard went forward and sat 
down in temporary seats close to the pilot.
    "I'm taking her in a circle to come around the 
target," the pilot announced, and he cut the gas makers. 
There was a definite tilt, and the pilot let the machine 
rise a few hundred feet before the blimp stabilized. The 
copilot began the slow and steady dance to keep the blimp 
at the current level through small releases of gas and 
adjustments to the throttles. That dance would become 
frenzy once battle began.
    Barrin closed his eyes, tapping the power of his home 
on Tolaria, and directed a hurricane of magic toward the 
rising smokescreen around the Keldon vessel. The deceitful 
smoke thinned as the enemy mages redirected their magical 
efforts. "I don't see any signs of panic at all down 
there." Alexi was staring down onto the ship's deck.
    Long and narrow, the vessel was crowded with warriors. 
Three masts rose, but no sails were raised even though the 
ship cut through the water, sending spray high into the 
air. Two concentrations of machines were at the bow and 
amidships. The men surrounding them fed fires with 
unnatural fuels and the blood of a slave. A body went over 
the side as a Keldon mage twisted the last drop of magic 
from a slave's corpse.
    "They are heading straight for us. I don't like this. 
Widen the circle," Alexi ordered. The pilot obeyed. The 
gondola swayed as it went into a turn.
    Barrin was aware of what was happening, but his mind 
searched for the rest of the enemy fleet. He was confident 
that Alexi and the crew of the Kashan blimp could handle 
one attacker.
    "I don't suppose there are any pets you can throw at 
them," the pilot asked, hinting that Alexi could introduce 
a sea monster into the fight.
    "No-and too strong a call might endanger the convoy." 
The blimp was swinging wider, and sailors began to move 
more rapidly on the Keldon ship as it began its own turn 
to bear on the blimp.
    "They could care less about the convoy. We're the one 
they want," said the pilot. Suddenly a catapult on the 
ship below discharged, throwing an arc of fire into the 
sky. "Someone got a little too eager," the pilot guessed 
as the arc peaked well below their altitude and turned 
into racing ribbons of fire, spiraling down to the ocean's 
surface. The pilot smiled and altered his course to bear 
on the ship. Gas began emptying out of the bag as the area 
below entered the range of the rockets the pilot 
controlled.
    "Firing," he called. From under their feet came a 
rapid series of thumps, and the nose began to pitch up. A 
deluge of rocket-driven darts rained down and emptied into 
the water and against the ship.
    "You got something!" Alexi crowed, and the tattered 
ship began losing way. One of the smoking machines on the 
ship's deck was on its side, and crewmembers sluiced a 
spreading fire with seawater from pumps.
    The copilot was checking trim and preparing to deal 
with the loss of four bombs. Barrin was easing his efforts 
to bolster the ship's defensive system, while Alexi was 
concentrating on sweeping the area for additional 
attackers. All the people in the control cabin prepared to 
savor a masterful attack run. The doomed ship below sent 
up another arc of racing streamers, but the pilot ignored 
the futile attempt to distract him. He was about to 
release the bombs when the copilot dumped ballast in a 
rush. The shock tripped the already primed bombing system, 
and four heavy bombs fell toward the ocean. The 
crewmembers watched in disbelief as the bombs went off in 
close proximity to the ship but did not strike a crippling 
blow.
    "Why the hell did you do that?" Alexi cursed as she 
watched their only remaining offensive weapons expending 
themselves uselessly against the sea. The copilot only 
pointed to a fire streamer in the distance.
    "It skipped." The meaning of the confusing statement 
became clear as the Keldon fire streamer gathered into a 
closed ball of flame that pulsed and expanded and then 
rose steeply into the air. Even after dumping the bombs 
and the ballast, the flaming ball was still dangerously 
close to the blimp. If the copilot had not acted, the 
flames from the Keldon weapon would be spraying over them 
now. The pilot, Alexi, and Barrin had all succumbed to 
target fixation, and only the copilot remembered to check 
around for other dangers. Barrin reminded himself to 
recommend the man for a commendation.
    The Keldon ship was cutting through the water again 
and closing with the League supply fleet. Its bow once 
more sent up a wave of spray, and sailors swept bodies and 
debris into the sea. Flares began to rise into the air, 
and Barrin wondered if the ship was relaying orders or 
just trying to confuse its attackers.
    "Whoever is commanding the ship is completely crazy," 
Alexi said as they raced to interpose themselves between 
the ship and the convoy. "He invited a rocket attack, and 
if we hadn't acted at the last second to save ourselves 
the ship would have broken up under the bombs."
    "He may be crazy, but he came uncomfortably close to 
hitting us," Barrin replied, computing the distance to the 
convoy and how much time before the Keldons could attack. 
There were only minutes to act, and Barrin didn't like the 
situation. He had many direct magical strikes that would 
destroy the opposing ship, but he might need those spells 
later to deal with the other Keldon ships. Barrin needed 
to sink this vessel quickly and cheaply.
    "Alexi, begin calling whatever you can. If you call up 
a kraken or a leviathan, I won't mind. Just send something 
against that ship," the old wizard directed.
    Alexi began concentrating, and crystal spheres formed. 
The crystals began vibrating, singing to attract the 
creatures of the deep, but the violence of the battle made 
success unlikely. The Keldon ship worsened the situation 
by launching several skipping streamers of fire into the 
sky. The transforming balls of flame drove the blimp off 
and made it harder for Barrin and Alexi to act. Now the 
League convoy appeared on the horizon, and the Keldon ship 
launched three more streamers of flame high into the sky. 
The fire raced in the direction of Barrin's supply ships, 
and he acted to protect them. The clouds that laced the 
sky seemed to darken as if soaking up ink. A wind blew 
from the land out to sea. Barrin threw out pulses of power 
in short bursts, accelerating the process. If he couldn't 
find the Keldon fleet, he would clear the seas surrounding 
the League supply ships. The wind and clouds circled over 
the fleet, and waves mounted and shifted directions as the 
sea went mad. The League ships continued on in the eye of 
a growing storm. No more fire streams flew toward the 
heavens as the Keldons tried to preserve their ship and 
enter the calm of the eye.
    "Keep us between the Keldons and the convoy, even if 
you dump us in the sea to do it," Barrin ordered the 
pilot. The wizard continued to pound and shape the forces 
of the air with his will.
    The battle was a strange one. The Avenging Cloud kept 
station and moved only in response to the Keldon ship, 
which became increasingly hard to track. The Keldons' 
attempts to conceal themselves were amplified by the rain 
and wind that Barrin kept roaring over the sea. Alexi sent 
out magic sentinels to track the ship, but the violence of 
the wind shattered their crystalline structure. She was 
blind until the violence of the storm abated.
    Barrin paused in his assault when he felt Alexi's 
efforts. "I think I detected another ship beyond the 
wind." Barrin battled with the storm, not the Keldons. The 
winds and waves seemed hungry for the ships that sailed in 
the eye. Barrin could not reply to another Keldon attack 
for some minutes. The blimp and the entire convoy were in 
a dangerous position.
    "We have to sink at least one of the Keldons right 
now." Alexi stated the obvious.
    "Can you call up anything?" Barrin asked hopefully.
    "Right now, I couldn't command a goldfish," Alexi said 
with disgust.
    "Then we will have to get as close as possible and 
attack the ship directly," Barrin declared. "Have the 
pilot take us down to just a few hundred feet above the 
water."
    The storm Barrin had conjured was making the pilot's 
job much harder than the man was prepared to deal with. He 
was constantly adjusting the throttles and was green with 
nausea. The blimp flexed and rose with the vagaries of the 
wind, and the pilot retched over the controls as he fought 
airsickness. The pilot listened to Alexi convey the old 
wizard's orders as he fought a downdraft.
    "He wants us just over the sea?" the pilot exclaimed. 
"With this wind, he wants us just over the water?"
    "It's the only way to attack the Keldons. We need to 
stay low," Alexi ordered, visibly gagging from the odor of 
vomit. She returned to Barrin.
    "I will support the defenses, and you must take the 
offense." Barrin was winded from his constant struggle 
with the storm. He needed a few moments to collect 
himself. "Hit them with a massive power strike the second 
you can see the ship," Barrin directed.
    "You have more power than I ever will," Alexi 
confessed. "You'd have a greater range."
    "If I thought you could juggle several spells at once 
I would switch places. Now get up with the pilot before 
some other disaster happens." Barrin's words came out all 
at once, as if he couldn't spare the time or energy to 
sustain a longer conversation. The old mage locked his 
arms to the side of the cabin, bracing himself for a long 
fight and against the gyrations of the blimp in the storm.
    Alexi went forward. The pilot was empty, and his 
stomach contractions brought up nothing as the violence 
seemed to increase. Now each surge of wind induced storms 
of cursing as the pilot wrestled with the controls. The 
water jumped closer, and then the engines fought their way 
up.
    "There!" the pilot shouted as a ship appeared less 
than a hundred yards away.
    Alexi closed her eyes and let fly her attack. She 
formed her spell just outside the blimp. Her surge of 
power shattered the gondola's windows as energy speared 
the enemy ship. The concussion reverberated throughout the 
cabin. Alexi's strike split the masts on the Keldon raider 
and crushed many of the sailors fighting to keep it 
afloat.
    The pilot tried to climb, but deafened and confused, 
he turned the craft and caught the wind. The Avenging 
Cloud began to retreat at a high speed, but not high 
enough to escape a counterattack. Alexi dumbly wondered 
how they kept the ammunition for the catapult ready in 
such heavy seas as a fire streamer covered the blimp. Fire 
ran like water over the envelope. The crew waited for the 
explosion, but Barrin powered the blimp's defenses against 
fire, and the Keldon flames washed over the gondola into 
the sea. Alexi sealed the shattered window with planes of 
magic glass, but she hissed in agony as a stray lick of 
flame played over her skin.
    All of Barrin's energy focused on keeping the blimp 
whole, and the magical storm began to break up. Three 
battered enemy ships lay revealed less than a thousand 
yards away. Mysteriously, the Keldons didn't fire, and 
then Barrin heard the communications man shouting behind 
him.
    "It's the Hunter!" he yelled. "They finally made it 
here!"
    Teferi's blimp was thousands of feet up and behind the 
Keldon fleet. Even as Barrin watched warriors running to 
load catapults, the Hunter dropped four large objects that 
accelerated sharply and seemed to fly down to an enemy 
ship. Explosions smashed the Keldons to pieces, and the 
ship instantly sank beneath the waves.
    Barrin could feel Teferi aboard the other craft 
creating walls of protective energy over the League supply 
fleet. A desperate attack from a Keldon caster hit 
Teferi's spell as a ribbon of flame, but it transformed 
into an explosion of cinders drifting down into the ocean. 
Barrin latched onto the dissipating storm and spun it into 
another of the Keldon ships. A twist of wind dipped into 
the sea and formed a great waterspout that moved over the 
ship and tore it apart. Flames from enemy spells filled 
the watery column and were sucked up into the clouds, 
exploding into sheet lightning. The concussion weakened 
the storm, and Barrin's blimp rose as the pilot aimed for 
a clearing sky. The final Keldon ship tried to withdraw, 
its casters throwing a huge display of fiery streams and 
cloaking smoke into the air. Barrin felt the planeswalker 
turn the smoke into an acidic rain that fell onto the 
fleeing Keldon ship. The liquid ate through the sailors 
and into the holds.
    Barrin expanded the blimp defenses against fire, and 
the last few streamers sputtered and lost momentum long 
before they closed with the blimp. Alexi's bloodthirst 
demanded satisfaction, and she hurled exploding 
crystalline lances of energy at the retreating ship.
    "Die, die, die!" she screamed as her attack penetrated 
below decks and started fires. The raider had fought heavy 
seas all day and was stressed beyond endurance. The sharp 
detonations of Alexi's lances began to break up the ship. 
It was already doomed when a great whirlpool called by 
Teferi dragged it beneath the waves.

                          * * * * *

    The airbase would be completed within days. After the 
supply fleet docked, the final pieces of the tufa refinery 
were quickly set into place. The warehouses behind 
protective berms were now filled with munitions. While 
Willum oversaw the final touches before transferring back 
to the west, Barrin and Teferi retreated to discuss where 
to direct the League's growing strength.
    It was hours later that an aide interrupted them at 
the map table. Teferi frowned with annoyance as the aide 
handed him a note and withdrew. The planeswalker suddenly 
grinned and rose from his chair.
    "Come on, Barrin. Your reinforcements from home are 
arriving at the landing field. You should be on hand to 
meet them. In fact, you better carry the welcome." Teferi 
snatched up wine and a fruit bowl and shoved them to 
Barrin. The wizard rose slowly but did not protest. 
Anything that lightened Teferi's mood was welcome.
    The passengers began to disembark, and Shalanda, aide 
to Barrin's wife Rayne, was the first to touch ground. She 
was tall and garbed in rough clothing. Her skin was a deep 
brown and her features were weathered by exposure to the 
elements. Her hazel eyes widened in recognition, and she 
walked toward Barrin with her hands outstretched. The old 
wizard saw the woman behind her and handed Shalanda the 
food and drink as he walked by.
    Rayne embraced Barrin, and they held each other as the 
rest of the passengers flowed around them. Barrin hugged 
his wife fiercely, nuzzling her dark hair. He felt younger 
as he looked at her. Appearing only in her thirties, 
Barrin wondered at the decades of love they had shared and 
the centuries that would be theirs. When they finally 
turned their eyes from each other, only Teferi still stood 
on the field. The planeswalker looked envious for just an 
instant before he stepped forward to clasp Rayne's offered 
hand.
    "I am happy to see you, Rayne," Teferi said as he let 
go of her hand and gestured that they should enter the 
offices.
    "You should have come to Tolaria more often, Teferi," 
Rayne replied as she grasped Barrin's hand.
    "You know that I prefer to take Urza in small doses if 
possible," Teferi replied as they arrived at the strategy 
room.
    "Urza is rarely there, Teferi," Barrin explained. "My 
wife and I manage Tolaria. In fact, this is the longest I 
have been off the island since we battled the Phyrexians 
for it." Barrin pulled out a chair for his wife. He stood 
behind her with his hands on her shoulders. He could feel 
the tenseness in her muscles from hours in flight, and he 
massaged them. Rayne trembled slightly at the touch of his 
hands but reluctantly considered the maps and unit markers 
on the table.
    "Barrin and I have been discussing a land campaign to 
the east," Teferi explained. "A counter invasion, so to 
speak. Barrin tells me that you will be ferrying equipment 
to support a Tolarian army in the field. When can we 
expect the first wave of forces?"
    "We should see them arriving within the week." Rayne 
was oddly evasive, her eyes looking at the forces 
displayed and the long lines of advance that the two men 
had penciled in.
    "We will have some difficulty integrating with League 
forces. As you can see, it will take weeks to concentrate 
the army on the frontier." Barrin reached for the list of 
towns and garrisons that would house the forward units 
even as he wondered what Rayne was hiding.
    "Just what forces are you bringing?" Teferi asked.
    "Two great dirigibles will be landing here. One with a 
cargo of light runners, the other with a load of power 
crystal and parts to help feed your own artificers. That's 
all." She seemed embarrassed to say it, and Barrin was 
stunned.
    "Surely you mean that this is only the first flight, 
my dear?" Barrin asked. He thought of the tens of 
thousands of war machines stored on Tolaria and the 
terrible weapons that he had helped construct.
    "There may be a few ornithopter flights of students, 
but the two loads of materials are all for now. The 
dirigibles will withdraw for a season, so you won't have 
them for transport," Rayne answered quietly and began to 
move a few unit markers on the board to represent the 
Tolarian forces.
    "Why did Urza send so little?" Teferi wondered aloud.
    "Urza considers all of Dominaria, not just a single 
continent. He has sent the equipment and students that he 
could spare." Rayne turned from Teferi and finished moving 
a last few markers.
    Barrin tried to explain Urza's actions as he had so 
often over the years. "Teferi, I'm sure Urza has excellent 
reasons for what he has done-even as you have focused your 
attentions west and in the naval campaign." Barrin pointed 
at the coastal and river cities on which Teferi had 
lavished most of his attention.
    "We are just beginning to realize how many troops and 
machines we will need to cover the frontier without 
committing any to combat. I am sure that his priorities 
will change once a clearer picture of our need is 
available." Barrin had counted on elite squads of war 
machines to head the offensive and provide him with an 
independent command.
    "Teferi," Rayne said, "it is growing late, and it was 
an exhausting trip. This is also the first time my husband 
and I have met in months. Give us this night for reunion 
and leave the war for tomorrow."
    "Of course." Teferi bowed to the couple as Barrin rose 
to escort his wife to his quarters. But even Barrin's joy 
at seeing Rayne after all this time couldn't drown his 
disappointment at the support he had received from home.
    "Why did Urza send so little?" Barrin asked later. A 
lamp was burning on the nightstand beside his bed as Rayne 
unpacked her things. He could think of no reason for Urza 
to provide so little. He hoped that his wife could explain 
what was happening.
    "I was never even able to speak to Urza. He reappeared 
on Tolaria in the middle of the night, read your 
dispatches, and ordered the limited reinforcement. He left 
before news of his arrival even reached me." Rayne shoved 
his clothing to the side of a wardrobe and began hanging 
her robes. Barrin watched as she integrated her things 
among his.
    "If Urza isn't on the island, then what are you doing 
here? Who did he appoint in your place to oversee the 
academy and the factories?" Barrin could think of no one 
that he would trust to replace Rayne and her expertise.
    "Urza gave no orders-I came on my own," Rayne answered 
simply as she pushed a large trunk of her things to the 
side of the room. Barrin's chest of drawers was too small 
to allow her to unpack more. She turned and set herself 
for the coming response.
    "What! You left everything on a whim? Just picked up 
your luggage and came?" Barrin knew from bitter experience 
how vast and consuming the responsibility of command could 
be in managing Urza's extensive operations.
    Rayne's reply was calm but as implacable as any 
juggernaut. "Do you really think that I would leave you 
alone out here knowing how little support Urza sent? That 
I would stay behind safe while you and the students I 
encouraged to volunteer went off to fight a war?" Rayne 
gazed with love but more than a little exasperation at her 
mate. "Besides, how can you possibly coordinate missions 
from this airbase, work with Teferi as an advisor, lead a 
detail of artifact troops, and maintain the intricate 
systems the Tolarian war machines require?" Rayne stopped 
to smile. "The academy will survive on its own. Most of 
the real work has been completed, and the remaining 
students and scholars are doing mainly maintenance. 
Everything is going as Urza planned-except for this war." 
Barrin was visibly softening his resolve and coming to see 
the situation the same way Rayne did. "Whether you like it 
or not," she continued, "you need me to take charge of the 
artifice I just delivered. You can't do it all by 
yourself."
    Barrin knew when to concede a battle. "You're right," 
he said finally. "It's just that the next phase of the war 
is so uncertain. I spent months focused on building and 
supporting this airbase. All that work, yet I am certain 
that this has just been a sideshow to the real war."
    "As I said to Teferi," Rayne reminded as she sat down 
on the bed beside him, "leave the war for tomorrow." 
Barrin kissed his wife and forgot the world outside their 
room.
    
                        Chapter 10

    Barrin and Rayne spent nearly a week together, but it 
went by very quickly. Soon the two of them were sucked 
into the madness of the war in Jamuraa.
    Teferi came into the map room where the two Tolarian 
scholars were working. "I'd like to introduce you both to 
a good friend of mine. Barrin, Rayne, this is Jolreal, 
affectionately known here on Jamuraa as the Empress of the 
Beasts." Beside Teferi stood a tall Jamuraan woman in 
ornate purple and green robes and a finely crafted 
headdress of feathers. She was very tall and slender and 
carried herself in a regal fashion, befitting her title of 
empress. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Teferi has 
told me much of you over the years." Jolreal bowed to her 
new acquaintances.
    "Yes, well, let's leave the stories of my schoolboy 
antics until later," said Teferi, looking at Barrin and 
coughing into his fist. "Jolreal has agreed to do some 
scouting for us," he said, changing the subject.
    "My friends make excellent spies." Jolreal lifted both 
of her arms, and from behind her robes stepped two gray 
wolves. The great beasts moved casually around their 
empress, and then they lay down at her feet, looking like 
tamed hunting dogs but with tremendous fangs.
    The sudden appearance of the wild animals startled 
Barrin, but their passive nature soon calmed his fears.
    "It seems that you have things well in hand," said the 
old wizard. "With such creatures on our side, we will 
easily fill in the gaps in our intelligence."
    "Yes, Jolreal will be able to report on all the Keldon 
movements on the eastern perimeter, but Northern Jamuraa 
is a very big place, and even with her help, we still 
won't be able to cover all the land that we need," 
conceded Teferi.
    "One of the Tolarian dirigibles is bringing in forty 
fast runners," Rayne interjected. "They aren't numerous 
enough to stiffen the army, but I believe they are the 
fastest light machines on the ground. Perhaps we could use 
them to fill in the gaps."
    "I am a mistress of beasts, Rayne," Jolreal explained. 
"What do I know of maintaining artifacts? No matter how 
cleverly made your machines are, they will break down. Who 
knows how many would be stranded behind the Keldon lines?"
    "Well then," Rayne said, crouching down to stroke the 
head of one of the wolves, "I will use them to fill in the 
gaps." She stood and placed her hand on Barrin's arm, 
silencing any objections her overprotective husband could 
raise. "I brought students from the academy as well as 
machines, and I can maintain the runners under any 
conditions," Rayne said with confidence. "You'll have no 
one stranded under my care."
    "But why go yourself?" Jolreal asked quizzically. 
"Surely there is much you can do here?"
    "I will not ask my students to do something I will 
not," Rayne said with intensity. "I have sat in an office 
too long, and it is time to see war's face."

                          * * * * *

    Jolreal was impressed when she saw the machines that 
Rayne had ferried over to the League. The runners were 
bipedal, with the long legs of a running bird, and like a 
bird, each machine had a set of wings, but these wings 
snapped out of long depressions on each side of the runner 
like giant sabers. A battery of twenty bolts peered 
forward from the machine's torso aimed by the runner's 
sensors and the rider's direction. But to Jolreal, the 
most impressive aspect of the runners was their grace and 
economy of motion. Even fully loaded with a pilot and 
supplies of every sort, they accelerated smoothly, 
bounding and turning sharply. As rapidly as the deadly 
birds of the north, they covered ground in long lopes that 
outdistanced horses. The runners' sensors placed their 
feet faultlessly, and their speed over broken ground was 
unmatched. Jolreal shared Rayne's confidence that 
outrunning Keldon cavalry was not a problem. As long as 
the scouts weren't encircled by terrain or enemy forces, 
they would be able to escape.
    Rayne felt only a little trepidation as she and her 
aide, Shalanda, readied themselves to ride out with 
Jolreal's scouting party. Barrin exited the building where 
he and Teferi conferenced when in camp, and he approached 
his wife.
    "You are determined to do this?" he asked.
    "Yes, my love," Rayne replied. "You fight where you 
can, and I can do no less." Barrin only grasped her hand 
and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
    "Come back to me," he whispered. Rayne saw the other 
scouts leaving and followed.
    "I'll see you in three weeks," Rayne called as she 
followed Jolreal into the eastern wilderness. Who knew 
what the Keldons were doing and who was stationed in the 
east?
    One thing that was not out east was people. Within 
hours of leaving camp, the scouts began running across 
destroyed and abandoned property. It was a depressing look 
at the failure of the League to protect itself, and Rayne 
grew more depressed as they pressed farther east. A week 
of riding and still they saw only the leavings of the 
enemy.
    "Where are the Keldons?" Rayne asked Jolreal.
    The empress could only shake her head. "The signs all 
point to them drawing back and to the east," Jolreal 
stated. "Perhaps they are massing deep in their own rear 
area."
    "Then perhaps we should turn north?" Rayne opinioned.
    Jolreal shook her head again. "There's a chance that 
the Keldons might be advancing farther east. My other 
scouting parties can cover that area. We can afford to 
check the possibility."
    The land grew rougher, and there were more and more 
trees. The scouts still sped over the landscape, detouring 
around isolated stands of trees that impeded their rapid 
passage. The runners sped around the obstacles and began 
to head north, looking for the enemy. What finally stopped 
them was the fresh sign of Keldon passage.

                          * * * * *

    Jolreal followed the tracks slowly, watchful for 
members of the enemy party. On foot, the empress sent her 
power into the forest, trying to taste the passage of 
warriors and their beasts. The forest seemed distant and 
the flow of its power chaotic and confusing, but the signs 
of the enemy were plain enough. Rayne and the other scouts 
waited at the edge of the forest wall.
    "Wait here while I scout ahead," Jolreal had ordered 
as she dismounted. The enemy had entered a path leading 
through trees. The path was narrow and almost lost among 
the giant forest trees. The Empress of the Beasts raised 
her hands above her head as she had the day she met Rayne. 
In the distance, along the path Jolreal had found, several 
sets of eyes appeared. She nodded and turned back to the 
rest of the party. "Now hide yourselves out of sight in 
the tree line and be prepared to run if necessary. We'll 
rendezvous at last night's camp if we are separated."
    Jolreal stalked the trail, moving in and out of the 
forest, keeping out of sight as much as possible. Forests 
and jungles had always been her natural home, and she had 
friends here as well as in other places. Only minutes 
later she came across the Keldons.
    It was the smell of the guard's leathers that alerted 
her. The odor of sweat-stained hide wafted from the 
warrior and revealed his presence even though he was 
hidden from sight. Jolreal slowly moved through the trees 
in an arc until she was behind the sentry. The Keldon sat 
behind several bushes in a small depression. Anyone coming 
up the path would have been spotted and the alarm given. 
Jolreal signaled for her animal escort to stay out of 
sight, noted the alertness of the guard, and continued 
carefully toward the main party. Soon she saw them.
    A huge tree had toppled, knocking down several others 
on its way and creating a tangle of logs and smashed 
brush. There were thirty men in the temporary camp. Half 
seemed slaves from their ragged clothes and fawning manner 
as they served the warriors taking their ease. The Keldons 
sat in a series of small groups, conversing as their 
servants packed the camp.
    A hundred feet away, the party's riding beasts milled 
as saddles were slung onto their backs. Horses and mules 
accounted for most of the beasts, but three huge goatlike 
creatures stood to the side. They were six feet at the 
shoulder and massively muscled. Armed with heavy curled 
horns, the rest of the animals nervously kept their 
distance. She had heard that Keldons in the far north rode 
such beasts. Colos, they were called. A warrior saddled 
them, pushing slaves out of the way as he separated the 
saddles from the rest of the gear. One group of fighters 
broke up and went into the forest. A Keldon passed within 
a few feet of her as she lay with stilled breath. The 
party was preparing to leave, and the sentries were being 
fetched in. She needed to get closer, to hear something. 
Like a snake she slid over the ground, moving slowly 
nearer to the men of the camp. Hidden behind a huge root, 
she could make out the low voices of the seated warriors. 
Her knowledge of Keldon was limited and laboriously 
acquired, but she could follow the talk.
    "This great beast is not here," a voice said 
forcefully. "We are being dragged away from the advance in 
a futile quest for glory."
    "And the statement of the elf prisoners?" another 
voice countered. "These beasts stand guard over ancient 
ruins. Perhaps the ancient heroes lived here millennia 
ago. Can you imagine standing on the streets where our 
distant ancestors lived and fought? Can you imagine the 
respect that would flow to us from the army and Keld? This 
would make us known in every cradle house and in the Witch 
King Council. It is worth missing the first few battles of 
the new offensive."
    The only reply was a snort of disgust.
    Jolreal carefully moved so she could see the speakers, 
but the warriors were standing up and moving toward the 
mounts. They knew something about the timing of the new 
Keldon offensive. She must learn more. Jolreal watched the 
warriors pulling themselves into their saddles. Slaves 
finished packing the last of the gear and threw it onto 
mules. A few minutes to let them ride on, and Jolreal 
would go back for Rayne and the others. It was vital that 
they capture one of the Keldons. A breeze blew over her, 
and she shivered slightly. The gap in the trees overhead 
allowed the wind to dip toward the ground.
    Jolreal tensed, her blood beginning to race. There was 
something in the air, some odor. The Keldons and their 
slaves rose in their stirrups, their heads held high like 
dogs smelling the wind. The horses, mules, and colos 
breathed in the air as well. Like stallions to mares in 
heat, they began moving, their riders pulling briefly at 
the reins but soon losing themselves in taking deep 
breaths.
    Jolreal's mouth watered as she inhaled the 
intoxicating odor. It took all her will to lie there and 
not look for the source of that delicious smell. She 
concentrated on her mission-find the Keldons and bring 
back information. But the Keldons were riding off, their 
noses questing for something. The colos shouldered their 
way to the head of the party and off the trail into the 
forest. Warriors and slaves jostled after them. Keldons 
swore as their fawning servants ignored their orders to 
clear a path. Jolreal followed the fragrant lure, dragging 
after the party she spied upon.
    Everyone rode into the trees, spreading out as riders 
and beasts ignored everything in their rush. Jolreal was 
in the open now. She ran after them, still trying to use 
cover as her mind fought to overwhelm her instincts. She 
stumbled over roots and depressions, her usually invisible 
trail looking like the passage of a drunkard. The Keldons 
should have outdistanced her but each warrior and servant 
fought to pass by another, and the whole party began to 
string out. Jolreal raced to the side to get a better 
view. The colos and their warriors stopped in front of a 
soaring tree. The smell that had been so overpowering 
intensified as the warriors dismounted and tore into the 
trunk. The bark was ripped, and mushroomlike growth grew 
in giant clusters up the vertical slashes. The wounds 
continued high past the heads of the mounted men and the 
warriors drew swords to cut more of the spongy flesh free.
    Jolreal's mind went blank, and she moved blindly 
forward. She was some yards away from the milling crowd 
and ignored the land around her. The pit was shallow and 
overgrown, left by a toppled tree, but it was deep enough 
to collect water, and her mouth and nose submerged in 
scummy muck as she fell. Swollen flowers and pitcher 
plants burst as her limbs churned the mud and rotting 
needles.
    Just then she felt a tugging at the back of her robes, 
and her head cleared the water. The plants were acrid, and 
her eyes wept with tears even after she cleared the muck 
from her face. The crushed foliage wept potent chemicals, 
and Jolreal's nose filled, a headache pounding at her 
temples. A dire wolf, one of her escorts, had a firm hold 
on her clothing and was pulling her free of the trap. She 
was aware again and furious at her soiled condition, but a 
look at the Keldons made her glad for her accident.
    The party members were fighting amongst themselves. As 
plentiful as the fungus encrusting the tree was, the greed 
of the men tolerated no sharing. Slaves tried to fight 
their way through to the tree. Knives used for cooking 
were yanked out of saddlebags and pierced living flesh as 
the former servants attacked their masters.
    Jolreal watched the slaughter. Warriors went berserk 
as they turned on the men scrabbling to the tree. One 
Keldon grabbed hold of a slave and began hitting the 
smaller man with bone-breaking blows. Ribs shattered like 
cheap pottery, and then the warrior laughed as the dying 
man stabbed at the arm holding him up with a table knife. 
Kettles rattled against the shield of the apparent party 
leader as desperation overwhelmed the slaves' survival 
instincts. The huge whip sergeant swung himself off an 
unmanageably large colos as his bloodthirst overwhelmed 
the unnatural appetite inspired by the tree fungus. He did 
not even draw the sword slung over his back but pulled a 
mace from his saddle. Single blows turned charging madmen 
into corpses. The few surviving slaves crept up to the 
tree under the bellies of horses and picked up chunks of 
fungus from the ground. They ignored the blood and mud and 
scrambled for cover, stuffing their mouths as they hid.
    The warriors mastered the servants, but their mounts 
now fought to eat of the tree. Horses reared and struck at 
the trunk, tearing off more of the fungus. The spongy mass 
went deep, and a horse's head plunged out of sight to eat 
and tear. The colos pushed the animal away with sweeps of 
their curled horns. Horses collapsed as broken bones tore 
internal arteries and organs ruptured. The colos turned 
their heads outward, seeing their riders. Warriors and 
mounts charged into new battle. The Keldon whip sergeant 
swung his mace overhand into the head of his colos, but 
the beast shook off the blow like a bothersome fly, 
sending his rider cartwheeling back. Other warriors darted 
in from the side, plunging long swords deep into colos 
sides. The blades snapped off as the mounts spun, knocking 
the men down. Cries sounded from the animals as they 
coughed up blood. Even dying in agony, they reared and 
trampled men and lesser animals. The living and the dead 
came apart under the thrashing hooves.
    Jolreal felt the pain of the animals tearing at her 
self-control. The colos finally fell, one landing on top 
of a crippled slave whose limbs protruded from under the 
massive animal. The legs scrabbled and pushed at the 
ground for minutes as the trapped man slowly suffocated. 
The animals were nearly all dead and only a few mules 
remained. The heavy freight saddles broke in the fighting, 
and heaving withers tossed them free. A mule spun like a 
dancer, and two rear hooves thudded into the face of a 
warrior. He fell, a limp doll as his neck snapped. The 
expedition leader was back on his feet and charged the 
victorious mule. The Keldon's gray skin was suffused with 
blood, and he grabbed the animal's neck with two swollen 
arms. The beast tried to tear free, but even its strength 
and energetic rolling on the ground could not break the 
implacable grip. The crack of its spine signaled a pause 
in the battle. Only a few warriors and slaves survived. 
All fell to devouring fungus spread over the forest floor, 
ignoring the dead and dying as they filled their mouths. 
The feasting stopped as stomachs began to rebel, and the 
men sat in a nauseous stupor.
    Jolreal mastered herself. The odor of the crushed 
flowers and pods filled the little depression. The 
fighting appeared to be over as the men groaned and 
rolled, their eyes glassy and unseeing. She began to get 
out of the water and froze. There, at the edge of the 
battlefield, a massive form gripped the corpse of a horse 
and whisked it out of sight. Jolreal put it all together. 
The lure of the fungus, the self-destruction of the Keldon 
party, the gargantuan beast-this place was a thresher 
beast trap, and it had caught a full load.

                          * * * * *

    The thresher beast worked hard. The carrion under the 
tree was far more plentiful than ever before. Some of the 
prey was far bigger than the animals it usually found. The 
food would have to be buried fast or other scavengers 
would gather. The monster dug deep pits in minutes, 
tearing through thick tree roots to make the cache large 
enough. With each pit completed, it went and gathered more 
meat to store. Carrying the giant colos corpse was hard, 
and its neck muscles ached. It paused to rest, rubbing its 
back and neck against a tree. A new lure needed to be 
created, and the excitement of the huge kill tickled at 
the poison sacks behind its claws. It loped toward a huge 
tree several hundred yards away from the lure.
    The thresher beast reared and set its claws into the 
thick bark. Several swipes were necessary to tear through 
a foot of bark to the inner wood. Sap oozed out as the 
thresher beast gouged out a fifteen-foot strip. The poison 
in its claws was driven into the wood and bark with every 
slash. The creature's venom and the tree sap would enable 
a certain fungus to grow, and within a year a new lure 
would be calling animals to their doom.
    The thresher beast felt spent and sleepy. Perhaps the 
carrion could wait on a nap. But a faint odor wafted 
between the trees, banishing its tiredness. The scent of 
another thresher beast floated in the air. The bloody 
corpses were already attracting attention and must be 
buried for storage. The creature grew angrier as the scent 
of the rival slowly grew stronger. The prey might have 
killed themselves, but the monster would still have to 
fight for its meal.

                          * * * * *

    Rayne watched the trail intently for Jolreal's return. 
Her aide Shalanda nervously opened and checked her 
saddlebags, muttering as she took inventory yet again. The 
other Kipamu League scout, Boyle, appeared quite at ease. 
The tall, lanky man sat loose in the saddle of his runner. 
His black-haired head turned slowly, showing a tanned and 
weathered face to the world. Only his blue eyes showed 
worry, peering rapidly over the landscape in direct 
contradiction to his indolent pose. He straightened 
suddenly. Rayne turned her attention back to the trail, 
and there was Jolreal coming at a run. She was soaking wet 
and great masses of vegetation hung around her shoulders 
and dragged on the ground behind her.
    Rayne, Boyle, and Shalanda sent their machines toward 
Jolreal.
    "How close are the Keldons?" Rayne demanded, swinging 
her mount to cover the forest with its bolt launchers.
    "The Keldons aren't coming," Jolreal gasped, "but they 
are close by, and we need to reach them now." The odor of 
the plants Jolreal carried suddenly impressed itself on 
Rayne and the others.
    "What are you carrying?" Shalanda gasped. The rest of 
the League scouts arrived, and Jolreal quickly told of the 
fight she had witnessed and the thresher beast's trap.
    "It fills the mind and renders the victim unable to 
think clearly," Jolreal explained. "These plants fight off 
the effects, so I gathered as much as I could. Everyone 
must wear some when we get to the Keldons." Even as she 
spoke she made garlands and handed them out.
    "I will hold the thresher beast off by magic as the 
rest of you round up prisoners," Jolreal ordered. "Some of 
the warriors know details about the Keldons' plans for an 
offensive strike, and we need to capture one for 
interrogation. The men should be unconscious, but hold 
your launchers ready, just in case." The scouts were all 
equipped with weapons holding web rounds for the capture 
of prisoners.
    Jolreal walked back into the treeline where a dire 
wolf waited for her. She leaped to the creature's back and 
began heading back down the trail. The League scouts 
donned their garlands, and a fresh wave of acrid stench 
flowed.
    "You must be joking," Boyle said, jerking his head. 
More vegetable pods ruptured and soaked into his clothes.
    "Madness would be even less funny," Jolreal said and 
flipped another garland over her head. "I saw about twelve 
people left alive around the tree, six warriors and six 
slaves. Hopefully the thresher beast hasn't touched them 
yet, being a carrion feeder."
    "How will we know which ones have information about 
the offensive?" Rayne asked as Jolreal started riding.
    "Look for the one seven-feet tall," was the shouted 
response.
    Rayne and the others rode up the path and reached the 
turnoff to the thresher beast's trap. The delicious smell 
Jolreal had described was smothered by the garlands, and 
except for watering eyes, Rayne felt totally in control. 
Jolreal stepped clear of the dire wolf and gathered 
herself, waving the rest of the party ahead as she began 
her spell.
    The warriors and slaves under the tree were awake and 
watching each other. The League charge took them by 
surprise.
    The men swung themselves up and grasped their weapons, 
but five launchers fired before they could do any more. 
Nets sailed out and spread wide, wrapping armed warriors 
in metallic strands that stuck to flesh and clothing. The 
glues surrounding the wire cables set quickly, and each 
movement tightened the restrictive cocoon. The free 
warrior and the six slaves closed in on the netted 
prisoners like rabid dogs.
    "Try to keep them off!" yelled Boyle as he rode at the 
men. The runner stopped over a prisoner and flashed his 
wing blades in and out of their housing to cow the madmen. 
They only snarled and closed on another immobilized 
victim. Clenched fists raised knives as they fell in a 
stabbing frenzy over the warriors.
    Rayne webbed the largest warrior when the attack first 
began. A screaming Keldon closed on her prisoner, and she 
bolted the berserker three times. The heavy projectiles 
left tunnels as they blew through the attacker's chest, 
and a bloody corpse fell onto Rayne's capture.
    "Somebody help me!" Boyle screamed. He had sent his 
runner toward the crazed slaves and was now trapped. His 
runner stepped on a dead mule, driving its foot into a 
gaping wound. The machine dragged the thousand-pound 
animal around like a man with a stubborn terrier. Boyle 
cursed as the jolting destroyed his ability to control the 
machine. The six crazed slaves stopped cutting at a webbed 
corpse and swarmed on Boyle. The League scout jumped from 
his mired machine to get some fighting room. Rayne grabbed 
for her reloads and glanced down to ram another web round 
into her launcher.
    Two of the other League scouts dived from their 
machines in an attempt to save Boyle. The runners stood 
impotent, their bolts deadly but unable to distinguish 
between Boyle and the slaves.
    Boyle's rescuers used the flats of their swords at 
first, still thinking of the slaves as victims. A crazed 
slave buried a pickax in the throat of a League scout. The 
rest of the Kipamu League soldiers now used the edges of 
their swords in an attempt to save their own lives. Blood 
poured from the wounds they inflicted, but the injuries 
were ignored as their opponents showed their teeth and 
closed with scouts. Boyle lost his sword as he buried it 
in a man's side.
    Two slaves fell on the dying man with the pickax wound 
in his larynx. Shalanda and Rayne fired as one and webbed 
the three into one screaming, cursing mass. Like fighting 
animals in a sack, they went at each other with teeth and 
screams until both the survivors were trapped at opposite 
sides of the corpse.
    Rayne drove her machine forward. The academy 
chancellor felt nothing but rage for the death of the 
scout, and she triggered her runner's wings, closing with 
the two slaves. Rayne left a trail of blood and lopped off 
flesh before her machine crushed the bodies under its 
metal feet.
    Only a screaming man with a Keldon's sword remained 
free, and Rayne emptied her runner's bolts into him. The 
dead man's hand still gripped the bloody weapon when she 
was through, but the arm was no longer attached to a body. 
Rayne shuddered as she looked at the corpse and then 
twisted her head to look at what remained. Jolreal still 
stood off to the side, locked in a trance. Rayne stepped 
down from her runner.
    "Boyle, are you all right?" asked Rayne. The ground 
was soaked with blood, and she stepped carefully. Many of 
the corpses were gone, and Rayne wondered how Jolreal was 
doing with the thresher beast. She steered clear of the 
webbed captives. Out of the five warriors webbed, only 
three survived. Two were actually stuck to the tree and 
the fungus that had doomed the Keldon party in the first 
place. Boyle was kneeling on the ground, a strip of his 
shirt cut free and pressed against a wound.
    "I'm cut, but I'll live." He tried to smile, but Rayne 
could see a jolt of fresh pain hit. The adrenaline was 
used up, and the pain that fear and rage had buried was 
becoming more and more potent.
    Shalanda hurried forward on foot to help with the 
wounded. Rayne looked at the Keldon leader. Had it been 
worth it? She walked back to her machine. They needed to 
secure the prisoners and start back for the base camp. 
Rayne started her machine toward Jolreal, but the 
sorceress suddenly fell in a seizure, her body jumping and 
twisting on the ground as her muscles contracted out of 
control.
    The monster sprang to attack as Rayne shouted for 
Shalanda and her healing hands. It came around the tree 
and slammed into Rayne's machine. The beast was massively 
muscled with long legs. Its head was roughly canine in 
build but was twice the size of a great bear's. Its body 
was tremendous and bulbous and belied its great speed, and 
its skin was tight and looked to split as it roared.
    "Somebody kill that thing!" Rayne shouted as she 
jumped free from her machine. The monster pushed the 
runner over and gripped the mechanical legs. It ripped a 
limb loose and howled with victory. Rayne ran for a 
riderless runner as the thresher beast ripped more parts 
from its metal victim. It must have tired of the metallic 
taste because it pursued her with leaping bounds. Then it 
spotted Boyle running for his trapped craft and followed 
him. He jumped for his runner and its weapons and started 
to swing himself aboard.
    "Mother!" he screamed as the thresher beast's claws 
hooked into his calf. The muscle stripped away, and his 
other leg broke as his body was pulled free of the saddle. 
Boyle was face down but scrambling, his eyes wide and 
teeth clenched. The monster had run past him, and it 
scrapped its claws clean of Boyle's flesh as it turned to 
continue the attack.
    Boyle was in the midst of the dead Keldon warriors, 
and he drew a sword from one of the fallen men. Rayne 
could see him sitting up and waving it in defiance as she 
got aboard an abandoned machine. Rayne laid the sights on 
the thresher beast, but the creature was upon Boyle again. 
The scout swung his newly acquired weapon. The sword 
sheared into a claw and a spray of blood and poison coated 
one side of his face.
    Boyle looked at Rayne. "Shoot!" he screamed and then 
fell silent as the thresher beast continued its attack. 
Rayne fired a stream of bolts and felt the world drop away 
as Boyle's body took several hits. The thresher beast 
howled again. The giant beast flung itself to the side as 
Rayne's bolts spent themselves on a pile of slave and 
Keldon corpses. Its eyes locked on Rayne. Blood poured 
from wounds in its chest and front legs. The beast walked 
stiff legged, its rage obvious with every faltering move. 
Rayne knew she could outrun it, but she wanted it to die 
and readied herself to attack with the runner's wings.
    A growing howl turned her attention from the monster 
in front of her. Another thresher beast stood over the 
dead slaves. The new thresher beast was smaller than the 
wounded beast advancing on Rayne, but it still out-massed 
a good-sized horse. It ignored the corpses in front of it 
and advanced slowly on the wounded monster. The bloody 
monster put its back to a tree and readied itself for 
battle. It glanced toward Rayne as if to promise a 
reckoning.
    Rayne backed her machine toward Jolreal. Shalanda and 
the other scout were at their machines but made no move to 
use the bolt casters. Rayne wondered if they had enough 
bolts to kill the monsters. She looked quickly at Jolreal, 
The sorceress was beginning to tremble once again, and 
Rayne knew that soon there would be two monsters attacking 
the scouts. But then she saw her aide tense as she 
gathered power.
    Shalanda was a healer, but it was destruction that she 
called up. Her head snapped back and blood poured from her 
nose. Rayne could hear a roar arcing through the sky, then 
Shalanda's wrath fell. The strike brushed against the tree 
trunk as it hammered the ground. A hail of splinters 
pierced everyone in the area. Rayne stared in shock at the 
chunk of wood through her side.
    The monsters were alive, though spears of heartwood 
pierce both their hides. Jolreal lay on the ground, a 
victim of strain or Shalanda's attack. The monsters turned 
toward Rayne, and the scholar knew that her party would 
die as a great crack of sound broke her concentration and 
she looked up.
    Her eyes picked up a twig falling gently to the 
ground. The twig grew and grew, expanding to huge 
dimensions. It was a log, several feet thick, and it 
slammed into the two thresher beasts, ending the battle in 
a wave of gore.

                          * * * * *

    It was hours before Rayne and the others could leave. 
Shalanda aided Jolreal first at Rayne's insistence. The 
waves of healing energy from Shalanda's hand washed 
through the sorceress's body, and soon Jolreal was awake 
and talking. Rayne waited patiently for her aide to begin 
work on her wounds but pressed Jolreal for an explanation 
of the thresher beast's attack.
    "I don't know," Jolreal stammered as she took in the 
blood and corpses, her eyes lingering longest on Boyle's 
body. "I tried to command the creatures, but when I tried 
to enfold it in the spirit of the forest, I was pushed 
away. Not only did the thresher beast resist, but also the 
land itself was distant. I could not draw power, and the 
thresher beast would not stop fighting. My body and mind 
stumbled under attack." She took a deep breath. "Perhaps 
there is a buried city or ancient Keldon battlefield 
nearby-something that poisons the land and drained my 
strength.
    "After I lost the first monster, I tried to call up 
something to fight the first. The other thresher beast was 
nearby, and I could command it with some difficulty." 
Jolreal sighed. "I knew my command of this one was weak, 
but it was close by and already a danger to us. I just 
hoped to use it against the first beast." Shalanda 
returned from her examination of the prisoners and the 
other scouts.
    "Only four of us remain, and the big Keldon webbed to 
the dead one survived. I collected Boyle and our other 
scout. There is a deep depression off to the side where we 
can bury them. What do we do now?" Shalanda asked.
    Jolreal still seemed dazed, and Rayne answered after a 
few seconds' pause, "We'll bury our people, keep our 
prisoner tied and doped up, and ride for home."

                          * * * * *

    The scouts rode for a week back toward camp. The 
prisoner said nothing, being drugged and tied upright to a 
pole
    Rayne rigged on a runner. The smooth stride of the 
runner and the last of their medical supplies kept him 
reasonably compliant. Perhaps it was the deaths of their 
comrades, but even the successful capture of the Keldon 
officer couldn't raise the scouts' spirits. Jolreal and 
Shalanda felt particularly listless, and guard duty at 
night was an ordeal since a watch had to be kept on the 
prisoner at all times. Even the land seemed to reflect the 
mood, as Rayne noticed patches of blight in the grass and 
trees.
    "Is that normal?" Rayne asked, pointing to withered 
vegetation along a ridgeline.
    "I'm not sure what normal is anymore," Jolreal said 
tiredly. "I failed to control a beast of the forest. 
Perhaps it was the effects of some ancient magic or the 
thresher beast's lure, but I couldn't grasp it. Now 
everything feels off, as if a piece of that monster was 
caught in my head."
    "I feel different too," Shalanda joined in. "I cast my 
power out to kill instead of heal. Now the world seems ... 
sour somehow."
    That two magic users should feel a change was 
worrisome, Rayne thought. Perhaps this wrongness was 
something that needed to be investigated. If only they 
weren't burdened by their prisoner.
    At last the party reached the base camp, and Rayne 
felt relief as the Keldon was put in a proper stockade and 
she could get a full night's sleep. The next morning saw 
her and Shalanda inside the camp headquarters. They would 
discover what they had brought back to the League.
    The building was dark and cramped. Rayne and the 
others seated themselves to the side. The room reminded 
the scholar of a courtroom, and Rayne wondered if she 
should oversee the interrogation.
    Camp Commander Priget inspired no confidence in the 
scholar. Small and fat, he squinted from behind a heavy 
desk. He was pale, and Rayne wondered if Priget ever went 
outside. The night before he had listened to Jolreal 
giving her account of the scouting expedition in obvious 
disbelief. Only the sight of the drugged warrior outside 
his office had silenced his snorts of incredulity. The 
commander had taken the prisoner, and Jolreal had been too 
exhausted to argue.
    Priget sat on a dais on one side of the room, flags 
and apparent battle trophies ranked behind him. A low 
table rested on the floor. On it were instruments of 
torture. Thumbscrews, skewers, and knives lay arrayed. 
Next to it sat an unlit camp stove with branding irons 
leaning against its side.
    The Keldon warrior was herded into the room like an 
animal. Four men with poles controlled rope nooses over 
the prisoner's neck. The chair they chained him in was 
short, and his knees rose nearly to his chest. The guards 
dropped their poles and withdrew.
    "You are called to explain your crimes," Priget 
announced. "Any attempt to deceive this court will be 
punished." The commander gestured to the tools of pain. 
Rayne hoped that the prisoner was fluent in the languages 
of the League, because Priget hadn't thought to use an 
interpreter.
    "I am Couric, war leader and blood letter." The 
warrior paused to spit on the floor. "You mean nothing to 
me."
    "Such behavior will result in punishment," Priget 
warned, waving a sergeant to stand by the table.
    "You haven't even heated the irons," Couric said with 
contempt. "The League knows nothing of terror." He ignored 
Priget and turned his head to glare at the rest of the 
room. "You are weak, and we will sweep over your armies. 
Even now our forces march into position to start the final 
attack.
    "We will pour from the north, and your men shall fall 
under our swords. Our barges will bull their way through 
your flimsy cities. The screams of your fallen comrades 
will announce our coming. We will own you all." The 
Keldon's voice filled the room, overriding Priget's weak 
tenor.
    "The lands of our ancestors will be ours again. We 
shall walk in the footsteps of the Heroes and kick aside 
the trash that has settled the land." Couric spit again, 
the saliva carrying to the shoes of a guard.
    "You all will be whipped and beaten into service. Your 
women," Couric jutted his chin to Rayne and her aide, 
"will go into the cradle houses and bear warriors for the 
greater glory of Keld!" His body heaved with each shout, 
and the chains scraped against the wood of the chair.
    "Our ships will carry a river of captives to the 
north, and the League will cease to be anything but a 
story whispered by slaves!" Couric bellowed. The big 
Keldon stared at Priget with eyes full of hatred and 
disgust. "The winds of Twilight are upon us. The witch 
kings will ascend from the grave, and all of you will be 
judged by Keldon steel."
    "Silence him," Priget shouted, and the sergeant moved 
toward Couric, a bludgeon held high to shut off the 
torrent of words.
    Couric strained, the chains pulling against the 
structure of the chair, and he began shouting words from 
memory.
    "The first wind of ascension is Forger, burning away 
impurity," he growled. A burst of flame exploded below the 
prisoner, and the arms and legs separated from the chair. 
Couric stood free, glowering at the sergeant, his arms 
still manacled to scraps of charred wood that used to be 
the arms of the chair. The angry Keldon warrior looked 
around the room, challenging the guards and magic users 
with his eyes. The guards hesitated at first, taking the 
Keldon's measure, then charged him en masse.
    "The second wind of ascension is Reaver, slaying the 
unworthy." Couric was heavily muscled, and the Keldon 
scythed down the charging men with the broken wood still 
attached to his arms.
    More guards poured into the room, trying to subdue the 
prisoner, but Couric surged back, ripping the handles from 
several poles at once.
    "The third wind of ascension is Eliminator, clearing 
Keld's path to victory." One pole was in the Keldon's 
hand, and he stabbed it at the faces of the circling 
guards. Teeth and bones broke, and the victims fell to the 
floor, constricting the room even more as the captured 
warrior moved toward the door.
    "Somebody get a webcaster!" Rayne called, and she 
moved closer to Priget, hoping to use his huge desk as 
cover.
    Shalanda, who was nearer that door than Rayne, forced 
her way through the stream of oncoming guards to find 
something she could use to subdue the Keldon.
    Couric was hemmed in, but he was holding his own and 
making ground. The dead bodies of the first round of 
guards littered the floor, and while the new soldiers 
carried stabbing spears, they were wary of the massive 
Keldon, not wanting to be another of his victims.
    "Kill him!" Priget ordered. The commander was trapped 
but was ready to hide beneath the heavy desk if fighting 
moved any closer.
    Couric gasped as a blade punctured his side. He struck 
at the attacker, but the League soldier retreated into the 
ring of spears. Priget rose from behind the desk to watch 
his troops dispatch the Keldon officer. Rayne stood beside 
him, feeling powerless in the interrogation room with no 
weapons.
    "The fourth wind of ascension is Anointer, defying the 
worthy," the Keldon bellowed, and spinning to face the 
camp commander and the Tolarian scholar, the mammoth 
warrior threw himself at the dais. Priget retreated toward 
the wall. Couric shouted at his retreating face, ignoring 
everything in the room now except the man who had given 
his death order and the woman who had captured him.
    Shalanda rushed through the door, a blue-robed figure 
in tow.
    "The fifth wind of ascension is Exalter, fulfilling 
Keld's destiny." The warrior raised his hands for a mighty 
blow.
    Spears sank into Couric's back, and the blood coated 
his clothes. He slammed into the heavy desk, and the bolts 
securing it to the dais sheared under his weight. Blinding 
blue-white energy arced from the doorframe toward the desk 
and the charging warrior. The Keldon seemed to slow in 
mid-attack, his cries of rage sounding deeper as his words 
stretched out. Another blast of arcane light burst from 
the blue-robed figure-this one targeted at Rayne.
    Shalanda had returned with Barrin, and the ancient 
wizard now acted to save his wife from being crushed by 
the rampaging Keldon. The spell wrapped itself around her 
frame like a giant gloved hand, and it pulled her away 
from the sliding desk. Barrin's first casting had given 
him the time to save Rayne's life, but the camp commander 
wasn't so lucky. Hundreds of pounds of hardwood and Keldon 
forced Priget against the paneled wall. The commander was 
pinned at the chest, and Rayne could hear bones breaking, 
tearing into Priget's internal organs. Couric sprawled 
over the desk, bled out and nearly dead as he looked into 
the eyes of the crushed commander.
    "Even a chained Keldon can kill one such as you,"
    Couric whispered as angry soldiers stabbed him again 
and again with spears. The Keldon warrior died smiling 
under the dead gaze of his final victim.
    
                        Chapter 11

    The afternoon sun beat down as Barrin and Yarbo flew 
over the League army camp. The sun glinted from the arrays 
of war machines. Technicians labored over their charges, 
looking more insectlike from the height than the weapons 
they serviced. Cavalry and corrals of horses lay at the 
ends of the camps with formations of infantry conducting 
maneuvers in open fields. The combined forces of Kinymu 
and Arsenal City had gathered to drive the invaders back, 
and Barrin hoped it would be enough. Yarbo flared his 
craft's wings, and the ornithopter began a slow circling 
descent to the landing circle and a waiting committee. 
Soldiers came to attention as the craft settled, and 
Barrin stepped outside. For the first time since coming to 
Jamuraa, Barrin could not smell the sea.
    An officer stepped forward. He was a very large 
Jamuraan man, as big as many of the Keldons Barrin had 
seen, but this man's features were more majestic and 
dignified-not as harsh or severe as those of the invaders. 
He wore an animal hide around his waist that covered him 
from mid-belly to toes, and his exposed upper body and 
face were swathed in a white chalky substance-presumably 
war paint. His hair was hidden beneath a great helm, but 
it was his green eyes that caught Barrin's attention. They 
seemed to measure everything, and the slight tension in 
the officer's figure signaled a readiness for action. This 
was the sort of officer who led his troops from the front 
lines.
    "I am General Mageta, Lord Barrin. My enemies call me 
the Lion for my fierceness in battle. I will be your guide 
if you wish to view the army before your consultations 
with the war council."
    "Let's start with the combat troops, General," Barrin 
said and started walking toward the groups of war machines 
that he had seen from the air. Mageta hurried to catch up 
as Barrin departed for the tour. The general gamely began 
describing the war machines as Barrin walked closer to 
their ranks.
    "All League war machines have been constructed for 
decades at Arsenal City. The machines here are found 
throughout the League and have been standardized for many 
years. Reinforcements will therefore fold right into the 
formations we see." Mageta spoke with pride, but Barrin 
wondered if the system he described hadn't stifled 
advancement.
    "These are called steel ants." The general gestured to 
groups of small war machines being serviced by 
technicians.
    Each machine was waist high with six legs. The head 
was oversized, and Barrin thought it crowded with sensors 
and a set of bladed mandibles and saws. "They are the 
smallest war machines that the League fields. They are 
quite fast, and when directed they close and dismember the 
enemy."
    "Do they carry anything with a longer bite?" Barrin 
asked.
    "That is something we are particularly proud of," 
Mageta said, pointing to the oversized head. "A modular 
weapon bay sits inside that can take three bolts or a 
light war rocket. The modular weapons bay design is 
included in all our machines, though you can't trade 
modules between classes."
    "They are limited, but they are fast, cheap, and 
rugged for their size. The Keldons fighting them hand to 
hand will be very impressed when these machines charge 
their lines," the general maintained stoutly. "If it's 
heavier machines you want, then perhaps the crabs will 
do."
    Mageta quickly led Barrin past the tents of the 
mechanics to another group of war machines. These were 
large, nearly topping six feet. They were slightly wider 
than they were long and stood crablike on six legs. Two 
huge jointed arms were held high, but instead of claws, 
each arm ended in a massive metal bludgeon.
    "These are the center of the battle," the general 
said. "The arms can swing down amazingly fast, and a blow 
can topple small trees. Lest you think these also lack a 
long-range bite, the wide body enables us to have three 
double-sized weapons bays. A module can take six bolts, 
two rockets, or an oversized web round. A force charging 
them would dissolve in quick order."
    "Very impressive," said Barrin. "But I notice that 
there are far more steel ants than these crabs. They also 
appear to be less mobile than their smaller cousins. How 
fast do they travel?" He was certainly more impressed by 
these than the steel ants, but he was wondering how the 
different types of machines would work together,
    "I confess they are somewhat slow and therefore 
usually anchor the center of an attack. But we are 
discussing barbarians after all. Perhaps they have 
overpowered eastern outposts, but I doubt they'll offer 
much of a challenge to two city armies." Mageta was 
speaking with pride, but Barrin suspected it was 
ignorance.
    "We only have a few examples of the last type of war 
machine," Mageta confessed. "It was originally developed 
to fight in closer quarters and smaller groups than the 
ants or crabs." He pointed to a set of twenty machines. 
They stood nearly seven feet tall and were painted in an 
array of bright, angry colors. "The mantis is somewhat of 
a compromise beast. Its head shares several common systems 
with the ant and will take the same weapons modules. The 
body is narrower and faster than the crab but can carry 
only one double-size module to the crab's three." Mageta 
finally pointed to the massive jointed arms that gave the 
mantis its name. "Each of the interior sides are razor 
sharp, and if a blow does not dismember the target, it's 
hauled up to the cutting jaws of the head." Barrin liked 
the statement the mantises made in their bright color 
schemes and detailing. The artwork showed pride and 
perhaps bravado that had a place on the battlefield.
    "How are the machines usually employed?" Barrin asked. 
"Can they act on their own without constant supervision? I 
have never seen them unaccompanied in battle."
    "They are directed against the enemy and then attack 
until the enemy forces are disabled," Mageta explained.
    "What do you mean by disabled?" Barrin responded.
    "You must understand that for years in Northern 
Jamuraa wars were waged by machines fighting machines. A 
machine is disabled if it's smashed, dismembered, or 
gutted by an attack. The Keldons will not take more damage 
than that, I trust."
    Barrin only grunted. "And what about the human troops? 
May I see them next?" Barrin was satisfied with his 
preliminary look at the war machines, but how the human 
troops looked would be more important. The production of 
war machines was limited due to the shortage of 
powerstones. The longer the war lasted, the more human 
troops would be serving in the field, if for no other 
reason than to allow dispersed war machines to be amassed 
on active fronts.
    "You saw the human troops-the mechanics and 
technicians behind the crabs," Mageta said with a straight 
face.
    "I mean the combat troops, the ones who will actually 
be fighting on the line of battle."
    Mageta's long silence told Barrin that he wouldn't 
like the answer.

                          * * * * *

    "You mean there are no combat troops here whatsoever?" 
Yarbo asked incredulously that night. "Surely there must 
be in two cities of this size."
    "Yes, they have soldiers, but they serve as watchmen, 
ceremonial guards, and maintenance workers on the city 
defenses," Barrin explained. "Infantry, cavalry, and 
people trained to fight as an army are far out on the 
frontier. Close to the cities, the war machines have taken 
over the combat role as fighting was ritualized and 
limited. Why maintain a large army when you buy war 
machines that will last for decades, require only a small 
force of technicians, and don't draw wages?"
    "But they've had Keldons raiding the League for years 
now," Yarbo replied. "And if they have no soldiers, who 
are all those people out in the fields outside the city 
walls? We saw infantry and cavalry!"
    "Those are new recruits," Barrin said shortly. "Most 
of them without any armor except what they could scrounge 
from an attic, and perhaps they carry an old spear or 
sword. If I had a couple of blimps or dirigibles for 
cargo, I'd haul a load of League launchers here." Barrin 
waved his hand toward the camp. "Maybe one out of ten of 
the men have a launcher."
    "The coastal cities have fought off raids," Yarbo 
argued. "It must be possible for city militias to fight 
effectively."
    "They were marines, not militias that fought on the 
coast, and usually the Jamuraans had greater numbers," 
Barrin said tiredly as he thought about what tomorrow 
might bring. "We better pray that my guide was right and 
their machines kill the Keldons, because I don't see any 
way they can use the rest of the army."

                          * * * * *

    Morning brought some good news. Teferi diverted a pair 
of Kashan blimps to help with reconnaissance. The aircraft 
observed the Keldon camp and perhaps sixty land barges 
altogether. The estimate of the approaching army was under 
four thousand, an indeterminate number of them slaves. 
While Barrin did not think the number meant an easy fight, 
he believed the numbers pointed to a League victory. As 
the Keldons broke camp, he heard distress calls from the 
scouting blimps. "Evasive action!" resounded through the 
communications room. Barrin waited, opening his senses for 
any other messages. Then one of the craft reported.
    "Tell Barrin we're sorry, but he'll get no more close 
views of the enemy. They have skipping fire launchers down 
there. They just took out the Moonrise. Unless a Mushan 
with long-range glide bombs gets diverted up here, we'll 
keep our distance from any and all barges." Barrin knew 
the crew was all volunteers, but he still cursed and 
regretted their deaths.
    "I'll fly," said Barrin. "I need to see the enemy, get 
a feel for what they might throw. I wish the army had more 
experience in large scale maneuvers." A general who had 
been listening to the blimp reports spoke candidly as 
Barrin called for Yarbo to ready the ornithopter.
    "Our soldiers are untrained, ill-armed, and afraid," 
the officer said. "But chances are very high that we can 
beat the Keldons during this particular battle. If we 
avoid battle, it would be more corrosive to morale and 
feed the Keldon legend of invincibility. Better to take 
casualties in achieving the victory and focus on training 
later."
    Barrin agreed with the sentiments but thought the 
acceptance, even eagerness, for fatalities repugnant after 
the losses already seen. A vision of Urza floated before 
him. The ruthlessness that Barrin so admonished in the 
planeswalker was a quality he would have to cultivate as 
the war continued.
    Barrin and Yarbo took off as the League army began to 
march. Barrin could see Tolarian runners fanning out along 
the axis of the attack. Yarbo took the craft toward the 
last Keldon position.
    "Be sure everything is secured," the pilot said to 
Barrin. "There may be some sudden maneuvering."
    The wings beat faster, and the craft accelerated 
toward the Keldon army. Barrin opened his mind and tasted 
the air over the camp. The sky was filled with traces of 
magic, and the wizard could feel the Keldon magic users 
below. The weapons and concentrations of power were coals 
burning on the plain. Then it was as if naphtha was thrown 
in a furnace as arcs of fire sprang into the sky. The 
pilot sent the ornithopter racing under the balls and 
streamers of flame. Barrin gripped his seat while the 
machine screamed in a dive that sent them whipping over 
the warriors below. The craft tilted as Yarbo sent it in a 
new direction. Barrin looked down on the camp. The 
launchers were firing. The weapons were mounted on smaller 
versions of the Keldon land barges. The major difference 
between these and the ones the old wizard had already seen 
was that the heavy upper wooden shell was completely 
removed to accommodate the launchers.
    Barrin could feel a pulse of power, and he watched a 
ball of sulfurous flame launched straight at them. Only 
Yarbo's dropping turn generated a miss. Barrin heard his 
bones creak as the pilot snapped his wings level and began 
climbing beyond the camp.
    "We need to make another pass," the wizard announced. 
"I thought I felt something new when we flew over." The 
pilot turned the ship and sent it racing toward the 
ground.
    "I hope you find what you need this time, because I'm 
not doing this again," Yarbo hissed.
    The ornithopter dodged close to the ground to avoid 
fire while Barrin sent his senses out once more. The 
wizard massed power for attack as the ornithopter came 
closer to the Keldon army. Their craft was so low that 
Barrin feared a collision with the warriors and slaves 
scrambling for cover. The ancient magic user could feel 
stores of energy quiescent in the land barges-not hot like 
the magic that he had detected before. Waves of fire and 
attack spells prevented Barrin from looking further.
    Keldon air defense crews ignored the danger of 
creating casualties and fired on Barrin's craft. Streams 
of flame dug into the ground and incinerated warriors in 
the Keldon camp as anti-air fire missed. Barrin directed a 
slap of power against a fire barge racing for a better 
position. The enemy craft exploded in flame, and the 
ornithopter jinked around the rising cloud of flame and 
smoke, pulling for altitude behind the screen of fiery 
destruction. Streamers still filled the air, but the pilot 
let out a long breath of relief as the range opened and 
the ornithopter sped away from the camp.
    "I hope you got what you needed," Yarbo said as he 
rose to a high altitude.
    "There is definitely something in those barges," 
Barrin replied distractedly. "It's more than the magic 
propelling them. There is some surprise cargo carried here 
for battle."
    "Well you're about to find out," said the pilot. "The 
League is attacking."
    The Keldons were near the bottom of a long rise and 
pulled back a hundred yards to deploy. Barrin could see 
the League massing its forces on the lip of the rise. War 
machines lined up, settling into place like restive horses 
at the start of a race. The infantry formed behind. Spears 
glinted as squares of soldiers prepared to kill or die. 
The cavalry was two irregular masses on the wings of the 
force.
    "Don't attack now!" Barrin shouted, his voice 
reverberating in the cabin. Below him the first wave of 
League machines poured into battle.
    The steel ants raced down the slope, quickly pulling 
ahead of the other machines and men. Barrin could see the 
Keldon lines contracting, tensing like a spring, then a 
flare of energy burst from the Keldon anti-air unit. It 
was a clear shot over the lines, hitting the face of the 
rise. War machines were smashed as they advanced down to 
the enemy warriors. Fire barges broke up the League units, 
and the ants hit the fighters awaiting them in 
disorganized driblets. The bludgeoning crabs, the center 
of the attack, started down the rise with infantry close 
behind. The fire barges would boot them all over the 
landscape. Barrin's head threatened to explode as he 
raised power over the hostile enemy force. A continuous 
bolt of lightning flashed from the ornithopter to the 
ground.
    "Go slower," Barrin said through tensed lips, and the 
pilot cut speed to almost a standstill.
    The lightning advanced at a brisk walk, leaving a 
narrow trail of fused soil. The arc bumped into a fire 
barge and played over the vehicle for long seconds as 
slaves and mages threw themselves onto the ground and away 
from pending disaster. The vehicle did not explode, but 
fires broke out and engulfed it, roasting the crew who 
were too slow to abandon their charge. Some fire barges 
surged into motion to escape the lightning's path. Others 
ceased firing on the League army and concentrated on 
Barrin. The pilot swooped like an escaping thrush, and 
Barrin let loose a second stream of lightning on a fire 
barge. The Keldons cooked and died, and the craft turned 
circles with the helmsman steaming on the deck.
    The ants bunched up against Keldon warriors, and 
Barrin threw his senses over the fight. The men fighting 
the machines were large, garbed in heavy leather and 
swinging swords that bit into their metal opponents. Blood 
showed on steel mandibles, but more and more machines went 
down. The Keldons attacked joints, and those with axes and 
clubs pounded machines to pieces.
    The second wave of League forces arrived at the base 
of the rise. Crabs advanced with infantry close behind. 
Enemy warriors started breaking from the lines for the 
land barges in the rear. Barrin dared hoped they were 
running, but only a thin stream of men withdrew from the 
formations. For each warrior that entered the barges, 
several armored figures came out. Barrin could feel a 
swelling of magic power as the Keldon army grew larger and 
larger. The swords and axes lifted against the League were 
wielded not by men but by simulations of warriors. 
Manikins-hollow warriors- pulsed with energy that mimicked 
fighters leading them from the barges. Warriors led squads 
to reinforce the lines as the League crabs arrived, each 
set of false men in sync with a living leader.
    The Keldons chanted, and the line tensed, becoming 
rock hard as the crabs hit. Crab bludgeons rose and fell, 
each blow smashing men and manikins alike to the ground. 
Barrin could see misshapen corpses falling as bones 
shattered into mush.
    League officers screamed orders as they ran to the 
line, and the crabs unleashed flurries of bolts into the 
Keldons. Men fell as blood and gore exploded from 
projectile wounds, but the hollow warriors soaked up the 
fire without wavering. A few of the false men dropped, but 
even the heaviest League blow couldn't crack the line. 
More and more swords flowed from the barges, and the 
Keldons started to advance. League machines attacked as 
individuals, but mixtures of manikins and warriors acted 
as unified squads. Manikins threw themselves onto war 
machines while axes severed mechanical limbs.
    The infantry lagged behind its steel allies, hesitant 
to add merely human strength to the destruction the war 
machines inflicted. Now the League constructions were 
falling. Chanting madmen swung bloody swords. Here and 
there near-giants inspired twisting maelstroms of 
slaughter. Some Keldons were in heavy armor, steel 
enclosures on the shoulders and chest holding burning 
coals and brands. Waves of smoke poured over the League 
lines. Soldiers coughed and felt a spreading terror. The 
war manikins threw themselves on infantry spears and broke 
the League units into clumps of panicking men. The crabs 
were consumed, and more and more soldiers abandoned all 
hope. Many began to run away from the battles, streaming 
back to camp or into Keldon territory, fleeing the 
fighting without regard for direction.
    A few units held firm. The single section of mantises 
advanced into the Keldon line, their arms flickering in 
attacks that yanked warriors into range of their cutting 
jaws. The infantry with the mantises supported the 
machines, protecting their flanks, but the rest of the 
League was melting away. Even the elite soldiers 
retreated. In the midst of the fighting withdrawal, Barrin 
could see General Mageta directing men equipped with 
launchers. The unit fired light rockets into the warriors 
and manikins. Dozens flew apart in explosions, but the 
Keldons charged, some jumping over the remains of their 
comrades. Mageta and other soldiers moved forward with 
swords and shields while their comrades reloaded.
    The Kipamu League cavalry had swung wide and fell on 
the left wing of the Keldon army. Bolts bled Keldon 
warriors, and the League riders taunted them out of 
position, pretending to retreat and then turning on the 
strung-out warriors chasing them. The horsemen turned to 
attack again, but now the barges moved to the flanks. 
Ballista bolts and fireballs left wounded horses screaming 
in the dirt. Young warriors finished off dismounted 
cavalrymen.
    The Keldons were charging up the slope after the 
retreating Jamuraan army. Barrin could feel the force of 
the enemy magic fading. The air-protection units were 
walking up the slope to provide cover.
    "Wing down along the slope," Barrin told the pilot.
    "The battle's lost, sir," Yarbo said. "The army has 
come apart, and you can't put it back together."
    "I can't salvage the day, but I can save the army," 
Barrin growled. "Now do as I say." Reluctantly, the pilot 
nosed the ornithopter down as he had been ordered.
    Barrin had held back, hoping that the League generals 
knew what they were doing. The reversal had been so sudden 
that the wizard couldn't hope to turn the battle. But he 
was damned if he would just fly away with the Keldons 
utterly victorious. Barrin pulled energy from the land 
harder than ever, his rage and disgust growing as he came 
closer and closer to the Keldon forces. Fire streamers 
began to fly again, and the ornithopter dodged. Barrin 
compressed his wrath until it beat against his control 
like a maddened beast, then he released it. A narrow spike 
of energy burst from the ornithopter. It entered the 
ground like an awl. Huge amounts of energy flowed through 
a narrow channel, filling the ground with power.
    An explosion erupted deep in the hill, and Barrin was 
spent as he flew away, his mind barely aware of what was 
happening. The slope was not deep, and the landslide was 
more of a slump than a cataclysm, but barges tumbled and 
buried themselves in the dirt as the ground trembled and 
lost cohesion. Warriors who feared no man screamed as they 
were buried alive. Only a small part of the Keldon army 
was covered, but all pursuit stopped as warriors and 
slaves desperately dug at the turned soil, hoping to bring 
living men up from the dirt instead of corpses.
    "Take us to where the army is rallying," Barrin 
whispered to Yarbo. The wizard felt drained, disconnected 
as the ornithopter climbed away from the battlefield.
    
                        Chapter 12

    Haddad dreamed. He fell through space. Through the 
still air he could see the clouds rushing up. Then, a 
cloud surrounded him, and there was no movement. His hands 
and feet knocked on wood as he turned. He was in the 
stasis box! The smoke forced itself down his throat, 
trying to strangle him. He jumped up and ran. Everything 
was covered. It was fog, and he ran slower and slower as 
the chill of it drained the heat from his body. No matter 
which direction he ran, he was still lost. He began to 
stumble and trip over uneven ground. Was that water he 
waded through? The fog was clearing, and now he could see. 
He was on a battlefield. Torn and mangled bodies stretched 
toward the horizon, many submerged in bloody pools of 
stagnant water. They were his comrades he had trained 
with. He stumbled from corpse to corpse, looking into dead 
eyes as he tried to find a survivor. Now he found 
childhood friends, school' mates from years before, 
neighbors from his youth, and members of his family. He 
screamed in grief, and his voice swept everything away. He 
cried alone on an empty plain. Then someone walked toward 
him. It was Latulla! The artificer stood before him, her 
arms open wide and a smile on her face. He ran at her, his 
fists clenched so tightly that blood leaked from them. She 
showed no fear and waved him on. He struck her, and her 
arms shattered at the blows. But it was Lord Druik who 
fell at his feet. The warlord's limbs and face were gone, 
eaten away by the jelly, so only a torso and head lay 
writhing. Then Druik was on a table, and Haddad attached 
new limbs and forced machine parts into the Keldon. 
Finally, Druik had arms and legs, and Haddad lay weapons 
at the hands and feet of his creation. Just the head 
remained to be done, a fleshy skull without eyes. Someone 
handed him a mask to place over the head. As Haddad 
screwed the metal to bone, the eyes of the mask opened and 
stared at him in pain. Haddad awoke.
    The former League soldier lay on an actual bed. It was 
narrow and creaked loudly as he tried to raise his head. 
He finally managed to sit up. Haddad's mouth seemed full 
of cotton, and he staggered toward the door. A table with 
a bucket of water on top diverted his path. He checked to 
make sure it was not the chamber pot and drank using his 
hand as a cup. Haddad blinked as he considered the room. 
Light leaked through a shutter and provided a dim 
illumination. In a corner his gear lay in a pile, and 
except for the bed and the table, there was no furniture. 
A candle sat on the table, and he could see a chamber pot 
under the bed. For an inn it seemed inadequate, but for a 
prison it was surprisingly comfortable. Haddad tried the 
door, but as he expected, it was firmly locked. The window 
opposite the door was not locked and neither was it 
barred. Haddad threw the shutters wide and blinked away 
tears as the light assaulted his eyes. Eventually his 
vision cleared, and he looked out over a cluster of 
buildings.
    In the distance were bare hills, a low wall of 
weathered rock hemming in the sky. There were scattered, 
massive structures of stone and timber. There were no real 
streets, just beaten paths between buildings and a road 
that lead off to the hills. The shadows were long and 
covered the ground under his window. Everything was quiet, 
and Haddad wondered at the silence. Now he could see 
warriors and slaves walking between buildings, but the 
scene seemed nearly deserted. A gust of wind made him 
shiver, and he grabbed the blanket from the bed as he 
looked out.
    Those were women walking, he now thought. The groups 
were organized around a core of large richly dressed 
figures with smaller women orbiting around them. Haddad 
watched and noticed there were no children visible. In 
every city he knew at least a child or two played in the 
streets or was carried by its mother. He watched a warrior 
walk below him. The sound of his footsteps was muffled, 
and he left footprints in the ground that slowly vanished 
from the thick coating of moss.
    Haddad was up several stories, and he wondered if he 
was in a building like the others before him, all high 
peaked and very large. Windows for light broke the walls, 
and on the roofs were skylights and light wells. There 
were smaller buildings scattered around, and Haddad 
recognized animal corrals, though few beasts moved within 
them.
    Haddad listened carefully and heard the voices of 
children off to the side. He leaned forward and looked 
left and down into the comer of a walled compound. The 
wall enclosed acres, and children played and ran in the 
open field. Behind them loomed a complex of buildings with 
figures moving in great numbers. Haddad looked at the 
children near the wall as a circle formed, and a free-for-
all erupted. A larger boy moved through the fight, dealing 
out blows that left youths gasping for air. On the 
opposite side of the battle several girls moved as a 
group, setting upon fighters who came too close. The 
fighting died down as the victorious boy slowly circled 
the girls, and then the children started back toward the 
complex of buildings.
    "Perhaps it's a school," Haddad muttered to himself 
and then turned as the door opened behind him.
    It was a Keldon female. Her gray skin was weathered 
and her hair was sprinkled with white. She wore a dress of 
deep blue with several panels of brown leather. Her feet 
were booted, and a belt with dagger and wallet completed 
her wardrobe. She was slighter than Latulla but looked 
hard.
    "You're awake then," she said. "I am Iola, the steward 
of this house. Please follow me so you may commence your 
duties." She paused slightly before turning to lead the 
way from the room. "Now I suggest you hurry and finish 
dressing."
    Haddad had woken dressed except for boots, which he 
found sitting under the bed behind the chamber pot. He 
jammed his feet into them and patted himself down quickly. 
He paused. Something was on his left arm. He quickly 
rolled up his sleeve and discovered a metal band, which 
covered his upper arm. It was a dull bronze, and Latulla's 
sigil circled it in a repeating pattern. He tried to 
locate the catch or seam by which he could remove it but 
found nothing. How could he have not noticed it before? It 
was tight enough that he could not slip a fingernail under 
its edge. He began to dig into the skin around it when 
Iola interrupted him.
    "You can scratch your itch later," she said. "Follow 
me now." Her voice contained the warning signs that Haddad 
learned from Latulla, and he stood up at once. He stepped 
quickly to follow her as she proceeded onto a staircase, 
and he closed the door after him, noting the sigil on the 
door. It was a stylized rodent, and Haddad wondered if the 
carving reflected his status in the house.
    "May I ask questions, my lady?" Haddad knew flattery 
never hurt. "Where are we?"
    "You stand on Keld, first among nations," she replied 
as they walked down the stairs and through a series of 
rooms. Haddad peered uncertainly as his eyes adapted to 
the interior lighting. They arrived at a great hall. He 
looked up and could see the shafts of light from light 
wells falling to the floors. Metal reflectors threw a 
spray of light into the corners. Haddad could see a raised 
dais, but the hall was mainly empty.
    Haddad and Iola walked along a series of balconies and 
smaller rooms.
    "These chambers are for meetings and guests of 
Latulla. Stay out of them except when on errands," 
commanded the house steward.
    "Is Latulla important here?" Haddad asked.
    "Important?" Iola scoffed. "She holds the house. When 
she was barely out of the cradle house she expelled the 
former master and took it for her own." She spoke with 
obvious pride at what Haddad considered little more than a 
great theft. "But her travels and work meant the house 
suffered, so she took me as a second and placed it in my 
hands."
    "Is she here now?" Haddad asked, wondering if they 
were going to report to her. He could see more clearly 
now, and carvings seemed to jump out of the walls. Every 
panel, every railing, had a design. Haddad thought the 
wall he passed showed a story rather than just an 
ornamental pattern.
    "She had business among the great lords and is not 
expected for quite some time," Iola answered. Then she 
turned a corner and walked away from the interior hall. 
The light grew dimmer, and the carvings were less ornate. 
Iola pointed out the firewood room and other storage areas 
and then went down to the next floor. The narrow staircase 
was black, and Haddad felt his way down the steps as Iola 
waited impatiently at the bottom. He could feel carving on 
the railing and the walls as his hands guided him down. He 
turned a corner, and there was more light. Haddad and Iola 
were in a kitchen, and he looked at the men and a few 
women preparing food. The air was hot, and Haddad 
perspired as he passed the cooking fires. Panting dogs ran 
in work-wheels, turning spits of meat. The cook and the 
principal workers in the kitchen were women and showed the 
gray skin of Keldons, while the men were all subject 
races. Humans, dwarves, elves, and a few races that Haddad 
could only guess at were stirring pots and making bread.
    "You have access at all hours and may freely take what 
you need as long as you do not interfere with the others' 
duties," Iola continued as she headed toward the pantries.
    Iola and Haddad passed many slaves, but none were 
introduced, and all ducked their eyes at their passage. 
Iola opened the door to the yard and stepped outside. She 
was walking toward a network of outbuildings almost 
exactly like the workshops Latulla had constructed back on 
Haddad's home continent. Iola waved for him to stay where 
he was and yelled for a slave to stop. The man fell to his 
knees as Iola approached.
    Haddad turned and looked at the exterior of the house. 
It was the size of a palace! Haddad would have thought a 
king or great family lived there, and he wondered how even 
Latulla, strong as she was, had been able to evict the 
previous tenants.
    Haddad heard the sound of a blow being landed but only 
saw Iola walking toward him as the slave staggered away. 
Iola continued as if nothing had happened.
    "You will be working in the farthest workshop, the one 
next to the cradle house." She waved toward the wall 
behind which Haddad had watched the children battle.
    "Is the cradle house a school then?" Haddad queried. 
If Latulla came from that particular institution, Haddad 
had no wish to meet the rest of the graduating class.
    "Of course the cradle house is a school. It is also a 
hospital and nursery. All Keldons are born and raised in a 
cradle house." Iola shook her head at his ignorance. "You 
foreign slaves ask the most bizarre questions."
    They stopped before the workshop where Haddad would be 
working. It was a high-peaked structure of at least two 
stories.
    A staircase ran along the exterior of the building, 
and Iola started up the steps. Haddad followed, looking 
into the windows of the first story. He could see little 
beyond shadows and covered tables. A large lock closed the 
door at the top of the stairs, and Iola took a ring of 
keys from her wallet and sorted through them. She 
extracted one and opened the door.
    Haddad entered the room first. It was still dim even 
with the door open, and Iola proceeded to open the 
shutters, letting in more light. Haddad noticed that these 
windows were barred. On the floor lay a collection of 
crates with Latulla's mark, and a series of League 
technical manuals sat on a nearby table. Iola gestured 
toward the piled supplies.
    "Latulla commands you to reconstruct one of your war 
machines from the materials provided. She will expect it 
completed at her return. You will work on it except when 
you are resting at the main house." Iola handed him the 
key to the door. "You will be responsible for securing 
your work. Let no other slave enter, and say nothing about 
your work. Meals are your own responsibility." And with 
that, she left.
    Haddad was alone and free from observation. He locked 
the door from the inside and stretched with unaccustomed 
freedom. If he had been given some liberty, he wanted to 
put it to good use. He began inspecting his work area. 
There were a plethora of tools that he could use as 
weapons- chisels, hammers, bar stock, metal shears, and 
more. He put aside an awl and some wire for construction 
of weapons. Then, thinking that he might be questioned by 
Iola, he opened the crates. They did indeed contain parts 
for a steel ant, several in fact. The problem was that 
every casing had been pried open and examined. Gears and 
cabling were missing. Many of the parts showed what must 
be combat damage. Worse, there were no powerstones to move 
and control the device once it was constructed. Haddad was 
trained in quick field repairs using modular parts to 
replace damaged subsystems. Building an ant would be much 
more difficult than it had first appeared. Haddad rubbed 
the metal band on his arm as he considered what would be 
necessary to fulfill his commission from his Keldon 
masters. His arm itched, and he wondered what it 
signified. He wondered how long it would itch and turned 
back to work with a promise that he would ask about the 
armband. He emptied the crates and considered how to 
proceed.
    It was growing late when Haddad finally prepared to 
leave. The workshop lacked lamps or candles, and twilight 
was ruining Haddad's vision. He was starving, and he 
promised himself that in the future he would bring food 
and drink with him. He sat at a table, looking at his 
hands and thinking about the next day. His hands were 
colored with oil and grease from the parts he inspected. 
As he cleaned them on a cloth, he noticed how the stains 
had set in quickly and already looked several days old.
    He was in front of a window facing the cradle house. 
The rise of the workshop and a dip under the enclosure 
wall allowed him to look within the compound. Children 
were being called inside, and Keldon boys raced each 
other. Pregnant women rose from chairs and walked into the 
buildings within the compound. None of the women appeared 
gray skinned, and Haddad wondered where the Keldon mothers 
sat.
    It wasn't until he was outside that he realized almost 
the entire day had passed without thoughts of escape. 
Access to all those tools, and he made no weapon nor had 
he appropriated a tool for his private use. All he was 
carrying was a League manual and some writing supplies.
    He promised himself that at the very least he would 
write down his observations and any information he thought 
the League might want. His current freedom was an illusion 
that might end at any time. He must start planning for an 
escape.
    Only a few seconds after starting toward Latulla's 
house he heard the creak of a gate behind him. He turned 
to see a hidden door opening in the cradle house's 
enclosure wall. Several figures stepped through before it 
closed. Even after seeing it open, Haddad was unsure of 
the gate's position on the unmarked wall. Remembering the 
respect toward cradle women and midwives demonstrated by 
the Keldon warriors back in the military colony, Haddad 
stopped and lowered his head in respect as the party 
passed. The leader of the party was cloaked, but her 
companions were not Keldon-the first women of other races 
that he had seen close up for longer than he cared to 
remember. He forgot to duck his head and stared as they 
passed him, but no answering glance was sent his way. He 
waited a few seconds and followed them, wondering where 
they would lead.
    Iola greeted the party at the door. "Erissa, what a 
pleasure to see you. Latulla will be so upset that she has 
missed you." The steward fairly fawned over the unexpected 
guest.
    Erissa uncloaked and threw her outerwear to one of the 
women accompanying her. She was shorter than anyone else 
in the party and heavy. Time seemed to have compressed her 
to a stump compared to her taller companions.
    "I doubt that very much. Plans are not going well, and 
Latulla and her supporters are a source of constant 
disappointment," Erissa said. She and Iola walked toward 
one of the rooms that Haddad had been forbidden from 
entering. He followed the rest of the group, holding the 
manual up as if in explanation to anyone who might 
question him.
    "Latulla knows that the invasion is necessary, 
Erissa," Iola said. "It's just forcing the members of the 
ruling council to acknowledge that fact. There are other 
clans and houses fighting to bring down the League after 
all."
    "But the bulk of them stay here or waste their time 
sailing and raiding for mere booty," Erissa spat. 
"Pursuing folly while our heritage and eventual victory is 
stolen by the Kipamu League. Even the women you have 
captured from that country have not reversed the birthing 
trends."
    The human women accompanying the two Keldons stopped 
and seated themselves on the furniture and chairs while 
their principal withdrew into a farther room. Haddad 
cursed the luck and took a seat as well. In response to 
their questioning looks, he brandished the manual and 
bared his arm with its metal band. The women only shrugged 
and began dividing up the foods on the table. At the sight 
of the bread and dried fruit, Haddad's stomach loudly 
announced its currently empty state. One of the women 
smiled and offered the plate to Haddad. He took it as an 
invitation for conversation even as he grabbed several 
slices of dried apple.
    There were four women regarding Haddad. Two of them 
were blonde. One was very muscular, her neck and forearms 
sharply defined. Her eyes were dark blue but hard as she 
stared at him. Her blonde companion was slender and her 
features almost ethereal. Her ears appeared somewhat 
pointed under her hair, and Haddad wondered if she had elf 
blood.
    "So what is life like in the cradle house?" he asked. 
The women looked at each other while considering their 
answers. The other two shifted their seats to face Haddad 
more fully. One woman was dark haired, and her eyes were 
green. Her face was odd to Haddad. The skin was tight 
against her skull as if blown back by a wind. Her mouth 
seemed small, but her teeth were sharp and perhaps filed. 
The final woman was dark, perhaps from the southern 
kingdoms in Jamuraa. Her hair was tightly braided against 
her skull, and intricate networks of scars framed her 
face, drawing Haddad's gaze to her brown eyes.
    "It's good enough for some," the brunette replied 
through sharp teeth. "Once they adapt to certain 
realities."
    All the women nodded in agreement. Haddad looked at 
them. All were in good health and on the backside of 
thirty, and all of them exuded confidence and power. Any 
of them should have appealed to his senses, but he felt 
numbed by their presence.
    "What realities are we speaking of?" he asked. The 
response was stunning.
    "The hardest for some is giving up their children. 
Even though they know the babies will receive good care, 
some can't overcome their feelings. No matter how firmly 
one tries, some breeders won't adjust," the muscular 
blonde explained. Haddad wondered what sort of people 
considered loss of a child something to ignore.
    "One woman from down south, who shares your coloring," 
the brunette interjected, "wouldn't stop crying after her 
first child went into the nursery. Even though there was a 
good chance that it might become a war leader."
    "And at least hers didn't die like so many others have 
done of late," the slender blonde added. Something about 
this comment set the others staring at her. Haddad now saw 
the women as they saw themselves, hard and indifferent. 
They had closed off their empathy and been rewarded with 
positions of authority inside the cradle house. Haddad 
heard the Keldon women returning, and he withdrew as the 
others stood. He went to his room to consider what he had 
learned.
    That night he wrote notes regarding all his 
experiences and what he had observed. He dared not keep it 
in his room and decided that he would hide it somewhere in 
Latulla's workshop where it was unlikely to be discovered. 
He blew out the candle and went to sleep.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad dreamed. He was inside the walls of the cradle 
house, and instead of buildings, there was only a small 
basket in the middle of the yard. The women he had met 
stood at either side, and a long line of new mothers 
stretched out into the distance. As the line moved 
forward, each baby was ripped away and thrown down into 
the wicker container. As each child disappeared, the 
basket swelled and grew until the women were throwing 
children high into the air. Each was gulped down, and then 
something broke out of the cradle house and fell upon 
every living thing.
    Dawn woke Haddad, and he rose from bed with a will. He 
stuffed the papers that he worked on the night before into 
his wallet. Best to get to the workshop as early as 
possible and let Iola find him toiling away like a good 
little slave. This time he thought to stop by the kitchen 
after freshening up.
    The baker and her assistants were just putting out the 
bread from the pre-dawn baking, and Haddad snared a loaf. 
He ignored the baker's indignant utterance and snatched a 
sack of ale that he spotted lying unattended. He stepped 
outside into the crisp air. Despite a touch of frost, 
Haddad found he was warm in the clothes he had selected 
from his gear. If the workshop was too cold, he would 
check the small stove to see if he could start a fire. He 
remembered that a load of wood was stacked to the side. 
The door opened easily to the workshop, and he locked it 
behind him.
    Hours passed as he worked on the parts for the steel 
ant. Perhaps by cannibalizing several machines he would be 
able to create a fighter for himself. He certainly would 
trust the loyalty of a mechanical construct over the other 
house slaves. Haddad remembered the advice two nameless 
men had provided him. Seek to escape and trust no one.
    He lost himself in sorting through a box of gears, 
looking for a replacement he could use in a leg assembly. 
The day passed quickly with no interruptions. Haddad 
considered the assembly project against the parts he had 
available. He could finish it if only he had enough time. 
The most difficult part would be closing and filling the 
modular sections that were picked apart. The League 
machine was near perfect in its performance, but it 
depended on the high quality control of the sealed 
modules. A steel ant might go months without maintenance, 
barring battle damage. If he could contrive some plan of 
escape, the ant might be the key. In addition, just 
completing the repair would boost his confidence in a time 
when he needed some small victory. He wasn't even sure 
where Keld was, much less how he would get home. Finding 
the information he needed would take time.
    He grew increasingly drowsy as he tried to plan his 
escape. Who could he talk to? How to keep from raising 
suspicions? Who to bribe and how? All questions that 
needed to be answered and soon.
    He rested his head against his arm, the metal armband 
cool and soothing against his skin. When he awoke it was 
growing dark. He didn't know how he could have dozed off. 
Perhaps the ale he had drunk was far stronger than he 
realized. He thought no one had checked up on him the 
night before, but he couldn't be sure. It was possible 
that he had already missed the bed check or closing of the 
house doors. He needed to get back to his room. He reached 
into his wallet for the shop key and found the notes he 
had written still inside. Carrying them back to the house 
seemed incredibly foolhardy to him now. He needed a place 
to hide them, but while he had identified which cabinets 
and tool chests saw frequent use, there was no guarantee 
if he hid the papers in one seldom used they might not be 
discovered.
    He needed a hiding place where no one would look. 
Haddad fell to the floor looking for a loose board, a 
crack under a table, anyplace to hide the incriminating 
words. He was back among strange tools and books he could 
not read when he found what he was looking for. His hand 
brushed a board, and it rocked. He gripped it, and to his 
surprise, it lifted completely free. The gap it left was 
approximately six inches by eighteen inches. Haddad 
wondered what purpose the cutout had served. The pattern 
of rust and signs of brackets told Haddad that a tank had 
been removed in the past. The cutout must have allowed 
hoses to carry liquid up and down from the floor below.
    On his knees, he peered through the hole. There was a 
small ledge along the wall, but it was almost impossible 
to see anything in the floor below. Haddad thought a 
moment then walked to his tool kit. Yes, there were 
several metallic mirrors for examining inside war 
machines. He selected the largest and maneuvered it, 
scanning the space below. The second floor was reinforced 
with extra large beams. There was a gap between a beam and 
the floor plank right by the cutout. The removal of the 
tank had allowed the flooring to rise. Haddad could just 
shove the papers into the gap. Let someone try to find 
them now, he thought.
    It was the creak of an opening door that made him 
freeze. He could not conceive of a more suspicious 
situation to be caught in. He breathed a sigh of relief as 
he realized the noise was coming from the first story. He 
heard the sound of rustling fabric.
    "Make sure that the curtains completely seal the 
windows," whispered a voice. Haddad could make out light 
footfalls as someone complied.
    "They are all closed, Erissa." The voice was the high 
piping of a child, and Haddad wondered what was going on. 
He was sure that it would be suicidal to call down and 
ask. A candle was lit, and Erissa and a young Keldon boy 
were revealed in the mirror. A cloak covered the woman, 
and she leaned against a crate as the boy hurried through 
the room, closing shutters and pulling curtains. His 
figure went in and out of Haddad's field of view as the 
League technician remained frozen, staring in the mirror.
    "Now Greel," Erissa said, "let us talk of your journey 
south to Jamuraa." The child seemed petulant as he kicked 
at the floor with his heel. He appeared a sturdy boy of 
eight in well-made clothes.
    Perhaps he's family, Haddad thought. I wonder why they 
are talking here?
    "I don't know why I need to head south," Greel 
groused. "I am happy here. There will be no children for 
me to play with. Surely Latulla needs no watcher over 
her."
    Erissa punched him sharply, her rings tearing flesh. 
No blood seeped forth, and Haddad watched the gashes begin 
to close, hoping that it was a trick of the candlelight-
but knowing it wasn't-as the flesh healed.
    "Latulla's plan for reviving the witch kings will 
fail, but she will command in the south. Even with all the 
aid and spells I've provided her, I still don't trust our 
grip. If she were tied to the altar, I would treat it as 
an ambush," she hissed. Erissa took a deep breath and 
looked at Greel. "It's time to put your childhood behind 
you. You will find new playmates among the League and our 
less fervent supporters. Now I have a treat for you." 
Erissa opened her cloak and revealed a sleeping babe in a 
sling. She unstrapped the child and laid it down.
    What in the nine hells is she doing? Haddad wondered. 
He knew something was dreadfully wrong, and as he watched, 
Greel struck.
    The boy-or whatever it was-leaped up and balanced on 
the side of a crate. It inhaled and then crouched down, 
its mouth open wide as it began to exhale. Wider and wider 
the jaws opened, like a snake swallowing an egg.
    Haddad tried to move but couldn't. Greel was a nexus 
of despair and death, and he drained every bit of Haddad's 
energy. The candle seemed to dim and flicker as if going 
out. Erissa seemed unaffected, and she moved, blocking 
Haddad's view of what was going on. The workshop seemed 
colder and colder, Haddad's armband bit into his flesh as 
it began to frost. Would his body be discovered in the 
morning? Haddad wondered. Then, the cold began to abate, 
and the room returned to normal.
    The creature seemed a boy once more, panting as if a 
race had just ended. He was larger now, and his features 
were more mature, more rugged. Greel stretched, and his 
mouth gaped wide as he breathed. The babe was still, and 
Haddad knew it wasn't sleeping.
    "I will need more sustenance, Erissa," Greel said as 
he wiped his brow. His voice was deeper now. "We need to 
find an eating place within the cradle house. I will be a 
warrior's size soon."
    "The curse of the final days is upon us," Erissa 
laughed. "A few more dead children will surprise no one." 
She moved to the window and blew out the candles.
    Haddad heard the curtains being opened and then the 
creak of the door. Who could he tell? A slave's word 
against a cradle mistress's? Any hint of what he had seen 
would mean his death. He knelt on the floor a long time 
before he replaced the cutout and found his way to his 
room.
    
                        Chapter 13

    Haddad's work on the steel ant continued. Each day 
found him carefully repairing parts, recreating linkages, 
and reconnecting cables, but he no longer imagined that he 
would miraculously escape once he completed it. A single 
ant wouldn't carry him from Keld, and he couldn't have it 
following him around like a pet.
    He found it harder to concentrate. The murder 
committed in the shop below him preyed on his mind. He saw 
Erissa and her entourage several times through the window 
as they went back and forth from the cradle house to visit 
Latulla's house. The cradle mistress was accompanied by a 
number of young boys, each bigger than the last. Greel was 
growing fast. Haddad also watched several funeral 
processions slowly wind from the gates of the cradle house 
toward the mountains. Haddad knew that the small shrouded 
forms were the result of the monster's appetite. How could 
Erissa and her creature kill within the compound and not 
be discovered? In any League town, one often saw 
children's funerals, but to have so many in just a few 
days? Haddad also remembered the cold comments of the 
cradle women. The death of children was common in the 
cradle house but had increased of late. Just what dark 
sorcery did Erissa practice?
    Haddad resolved to learn more. He requisitioned some 
pure alcohol to clean parts of the ant's mechanism and 
ordered several times what he needed, using the extra to 
spike a sack of wine.
    "Come join me," Haddad called to a stockman the next 
day. The League technician sat inside a stable with two 
cups and his wine. Latulla had several separate enclosures 
for beasts, and one was nearly abandoned as many of the 
mounts were with Latulla's party. A lone servant was 
cleaning and repairing tack for the missing animals. The 
slave was returning from the main house with a chunk of 
bread from the kitchen. Haddad knew that the man often ate 
separate from the other servants.
    "Some wine will wash your meal down better than water 
from the trough," Haddad offered as he filled a cup. The 
liquor was far stronger with the addition of the cleaning 
alcohol, but the slave gulped it down without a word of 
appreciation. The stockman only held out his empty cup for 
more.
    "I am Haddad from the southern continent. I know very 
little about the other servants or about Keld," Haddad 
explained as he filled the man's cup once again. "Perhaps 
you might instruct me."
    The stableman's response was to drain his cup again, 
this time in slow swallows. The man was big, but smaller 
than the Keldon warriors. His clothes stank of dung and 
sweat. His brown hair was long and greasy, and his face 
was nearly hidden by a snarled beard. A series of tattoos 
swirled around his eyes, and a broad expanse of scalp 
hinted at his previous hairline.
    "I do not gossip like an old woman. Talk to others if 
you would know more." The stableman threw the dregs of his 
cup against the wall, leaving a stain. Haddad spoke 
quickly before the slave could leave.
    "I would speak to the old women, but there are none to 
be found. I know women have been stolen from my own 
country, but I haven't seen any female slaves except from 
the cradle house. Where do they all go?" Haddad asked 
hurriedly. The stableman paused.
    "As you said. All women go into the cradle house. They 
bear Keldon children or help care for them. Perhaps other 
places in Keld allow human females to be outside the 
cradle house walls but not here," he said slowly.
    "But if only slaves bear Keldon children, where do the 
Keldon women give birth?" Haddad was trying to get a firm 
grip on the facts.
    "They don't," was the reply. "Here all warriors spring 
from slave mothers." The slave continued, "The Keldon 
females can bear children, but almost all choose not to."
    "Why?" Haddad asked. A race that replenished itself by 
stealing women to bear its warriors? A race with little or 
no pregnancy by accident? The Keldons seemed beyond 
understanding.
    "Males and females do not have sex except to bear 
children. The mother would bear most of the burden alone 
after the male left. It is much easier to have slaves do 
the hard work of bearing children while the Keldon women 
concentrate on other things," he finished. "Now I must 
work." He staggered as he got up but set a course for the 
tack room and walked fairly straight.
    Haddad looked at the deflated sack of wine and 
considered the information he had just received. The 
Keldons raided for tufa, but a race that depended on 
slaves to replenish itself had an endless appetite for 
subject peoples. Haddad wondered if the League could beat 
off an invasion by such a race.

                          * * * * *

    The following morning Iola called upon him in the 
workshop. "I am checking to see what progress you have 
made in completing the ant," she said as she swept through 
the door. Haddad had continued working, but the machine 
was still primarily parts scattered over the table. Iola 
turned to him with a severe expression.
    "Latulla will be arriving in several days for the 
Festival of Passage. I suggest you have the device 
completed by then, or your screams will sound throughout 
the night when the mistress arrives," she warned.
    Haddad knew that no excuses would be acceptable, and 
Iola left before he could get a more precise timetable. 
The next days were spent entirely in the workshop. Haddad 
soon realized that testing would consume more of his time 
than he had planned. Without a powerstone to show if the 
parts were working, Haddad had to go through laborious 
exercises and makeshifts to see. Finally he realized that 
until he had a powerstone, he would never know if his 
repairs worked. He locked the workshop a final time and 
went for his room. The sheaf of notes he had written on 
his experiences in Keld he left in the rafters of the 
first floor, but he took with him a wire garrote sewn into 
his clothing and a small knife hidden in his wallet. They 
were small prizes compared to the wealth of tools he left 
behind, but perhaps it was better to travel light when one 
has a long way to go.
    The Festival of Passage commenced, and a bizarre sense 
of gaiety could be felt throughout the household. The 
Keldons observed a holiday to commemorate the beginning of 
change for the approaching year. The festival celebrated 
the completion of the flight from their enemy in ancient 
times. Even the slaves were happy, for by custom, 
punishments for everything except serious crimes were 
waived or delayed. Not that the slaves ran wild with 
freedom, for the Keldons had a long memory and were always 
ready to punish when the festival was over. But for a few 
days, the slaves were free of the heavy hands of their 
masters.
    Warriors competed in fights with blunted and padded 
weapons, their aggression channeled against each other as 
it was inside the cradle house. Winners of the contest 
gained the attention of the commanders and perhaps a 
chance to advance on the next mission. Slaves aped their 
masters with feats of strength, and Haddad watched the 
stableman win the wrestling matches. Other slaves gave the 
victor trinkets, but no overseer took any notice. Haddad 
could see the fights inside the cradle house enclosure 
grow more and more vicious as children sought dominance. 
More and more he saw single males mastering their fellows 
while the girls bonded together into separate groups. 
Everyone was locked in contests for position but Haddad. 
The struggles seemed irrelevant as he worked on the steel 
ant. Each day saw him closer to completing it, but his 
work furthered his enemies' plans. Each part fixed and 
oiled felt like a betrayal.
    Haddad tried to appear content under the eyes of Iola, 
but he could not. So far his living conditions were 
comparatively pleasant when contrasted with his earlier 
captivity, but at least at the colony the illusion of 
escape or the more improbable rescue by Kipamu League 
forces kept his spirits up. Despite the run of the kitchen 
and the respect he received from the other servants as an 
arm-banded slave, Haddad felt impotent.
    His mood did not improve as a round of guests appeared 
from the cradle house. Erissa was accompanied by a new set 
of female followers. They were well groomed, and the male 
servants took advantage of an opportunity they hardly ever 
had-the chance to talk to a woman of their own race. The 
cradle women were soon surrounded by as many admirers as 
any socialite beauty at a League ball. Haddad had no 
desire to speak with them. Each one collaborated in the 
enslavement and controlled breeding of humanity. Whole 
nations might flow under the hands of the cradle mistress 
and midwife, but only Keldons marched away as their slave 
mothers bore more Keldon children.
    Erissa was talking quietly with Iola. Stooped and 
eating a small cake and tea, the cradle woman reminded him 
of an elderly maiden aunt. Then he saw the young warrior 
standing behind her. The youth was near his full growth 
and clad in fine clothes, a sword at his side. His stance 
and alertness unnerved the technical officer, but he had 
no idea why. Then the soldier turned, and he got a glimpse 
of the extra-wide mouth. It was Erissa's demonic servant 
grown large- either that or a close sibling. Haddad was 
unable to say which would be worse. He began moving as far 
away as possible. Then an announcement rang through the 
hall.
    "All gather for Sirk, the storyteller." All present 
flowed to the side of the room and stopped a respectful 
distance from an old warrior. The man was scarred and 
infirm though not missing any limbs as many other older 
Keldons.
    His clothing and weapons were of fine quality but 
jarring in the clash of color and styles. It wasn't until 
after Sirk walked to stand before the crowd and bumped 
into a table with a searching hand that Haddad realized 
the man was blind.
    More warriors and women poured in from other parts of 
the house and the grounds. A large crowd began to push 
each other for better viewing positions. Haddad moved to 
the rear of the room and could catch only glimpses of the 
storyteller, but once the Keldon spoke, his voice filled 
the space.
    "Not all great tales are finished. Listen to the 
prophecies of the final days," Sirk said, and he gestured 
grandly in a style of speaking that Haddad was unfamiliar 
with. "Keld was created from the blood of heroes, drifting 
from our ancient shores until we landed north. At first 
these children were timid, holding only enough land to 
live and selfishly thinking of themselves before the 
people. In time the blood ran thin, and the spirit of the 
people gasped for relief and for the taste of battle they 
had left behind. On that day the first Keldon Witch King 
was born." Sirk paused to wet his throat with wine.
    "He towered over the north as giants loom over normal 
men. 'A great destiny awaits me,' were his words when soon 
out of the womb. 'I shall bring forth a nation to cleanse 
the world from all darkness.' The king lay down with the 
women of his enemies and brought forth sons and daughters 
to swell his army. At last he stood upon the mountain and 
called forth, 'I am ready for the darkness, let my enemy 
stand forth and the final battle begin.' But the servants 
of evil were cowards and hid from the witch king, plotting 
his death. Many times they tried to pull him down but 
always failed. Still they refused battle, denying the 
witch king his rightful victory. At last the king called 
to his people. 'I am growing old, and a new leader must 
follow and claim my victory.' With that, the king passed 
the crown and went to the Necropolis, falling into a 
sleeping death. Each king has followed him into his palace 
as the millennia have passed. Each waits for the enemy to 
reveal himself, for the final days to begin the final 
battle. And on that day, all the witch kings interred in 
the palace will arise from their slumber, and a great host 
shall march and crack the world." Sirk finished his 
recitation with a flourish.
    "But the final days are upon us," rang out a warrior's 
voice. One of Latulla's guards climbed on a table and 
began speaking to the crowd. "Death is spreading 
throughout the land. Children die in the cradle houses as 
the enemy seeks to choke our numbers! We must awaken the 
witch kings and take the battle to the enemy!"
    "And where shall we march?" argued a gate guard. "The 
enemy hides as he has always hidden. Until he reveals 
himself, we cannot raise the kings!"
    "Blasphemy!" cried yet another warrior. "The kings 
shall rise when they are ready, and you imperil the final 
victory by your talk of disturbing them." A multitude of 
voices broke out as every Keldon forgot their usual 
deference to their superiors and tried to shout each other 
down. The respect and awe that all Keldons felt for those 
of greater strength fled as religious fever drove each to 
define what was right and true.
    Swords were drawn, and cries of pain began to sound in 
the hall as steel punctuated arguments. The cradle women 
and the slaves were caught up as well, and Haddad wondered 
how many would die before the fight ended.
    "Enough!" The shout was punctuated by the chandeliers 
and candles throughout the room flaring and then exploding 
in blasts of boiling wax. Arguments were forgotten as all 
present squinted their eyes and desperately wiped off the 
fiery debris. Latulla had returned home.
    Iola ran through the crowd to explain to the artificer 
but was waved silent before she could reach the mistress 
of the house.
    "Dogs baying in the night!" Latulla said intently. 
"Arguments that have been said a hundred times and solved 
nothing! I came to celebrate passage, but it appears that 
you are stuck in my way." She drew herself up and looked 
over the crowd. "The festival is over. A new passage has 
begun." She pointed off to the side. "We travel for the 
Necropolis tomorrow, and the witch kings will awaken, or 
we will drag them into the light of day."
    Latulla stalked away, leaving a confused babble behind 
her.
    
                        Chapter 14

    The next morning Haddad hurried out to the workshop to 
present his work to Latulla. She had looked less 
controlled than usual the night before, and he was 
determined to appear his best. Latulla's travels would be 
far more conducive to escape than his current imprisonment 
deep in the Keldon interior. Crawling a little would be 
worth it if it got him moving again.
    The workshop was open on both levels when he arrived. 
The first floor was being emptied into cargo wagons. The 
draft horses were uneasy, shifting in their traces. He 
could hear Latulla giving orders and talking as he looked 
through the double doors blocked by the wagon.
    Iola was taking notes while Erissa sat to the side. 
Haddad was relieved to see her free of her attendants, 
both mortal and magical. Latulla knelt by the steel ant 
that Haddad had reconstructed. In her hands was a 
powerstone. She placed the crystal in the machine and 
closed the hatch. The ant came alive, and Haddad knew that 
she must have already designated herself as its 
controller.
    "Go forward. Go left. Go right. Back up." Each command 
was given in a clear voice, and the ant promptly complied. 
Latulla noticed him and looked over his shoulder. A large 
dog was crossing the yard, one that the stockmen used to 
herd cattle.
    "The four-legged animal one hundred yards out." The 
ant seemed to nod as Latulla spoke. "Kill it!"
    The ant brushed Haddad as it raced out the door. The 
impact spun him around, and his hand smashed into the side 
of the wagon he was standing next to. The cart-horses 
whinnied in fear as the machine went past them, 
accelerating to maximum speed in only a few seconds. The 
ant hit the dog at a run and nipped off two legs in 
passing. The machine skidded along the grass as it 
stopped, and then it turned to hit the howling dog. Soon 
there was nothing but a pile of canine parts.
    "Excellent," Latulla said, looking on with a maternal 
pride as the machine came back. "I'll have to get more of 
these." Then she added pensively, "Though they kill 
awfully fast. There must be some way to stretch out the 
process." She turned to Haddad, and he thought he saw what 
could have been mistaken as a smile.
    Iola looked puzzled as she looked at the dead dog. A 
guard to the side had a faint air of disgust as he 
regarded the dead animal, and Haddad saw him mouthing 
"waste" to another warrior beside him. Haddad snapped his 
attention back to Latulla as the artificer came toward the 
door.
    "The ant performs up to my expectations," Latulla said 
as the machine came trotting back. Haddad saw her 
considering the rings on her hand and concentrating. The 
burst of pain that struck him was totally unexpected. He 
could feel the agony radiating from his left arm in waves. 
Was he having a heart attack? Haddad's muscles along the 
left side of his body contracted, and he fell to the floor 
in writhing agony. The artificer was silent until Haddad 
put his eyes back on her face.
    "However," Latulla continued, "Iola informs me that it 
was necessary to prod you into completing your work. In 
the future, I expect you to finish quickly with no 
prompting."
    Haddad couldn't even nod, the pain drew him so tight. 
Then it started to fade. Erissa watched it all with a 
bright, lively interest, while Iola kept her countenance 
completely neutral.
    "Are you sure that we can't lower the cost of that 
armband and spell?" Latulla asked Erissa. "It is so 
useful. I would like to equip my entire household with 
it."
    "Alas no, Latulla," the cradle mistress replied. "I 
myself band only a select few, and the extra control you 
gain just doesn't pay for the amount of time you have to 
take establishing the bond."
    "A pity." Latulla turned back to Haddad. "Go up to the 
second floor and pack the red banded tools and what you 
used for the ant."
    Haddad tried to get up but was slow. He could hardly 
gasp for air, and she was telling him to bounce up and 
continue the tasks she ordered?
    "Do you need another nudge then?" Latulla taunted.
    Haddad crawled out past the horses and slowly up the 
exterior staircase. He felt as if he had strained all the 
muscles in his chest, and he went through the open door 
and collapsed by his workbench. The bottle of alcohol was 
there, and Haddad took a drink before remembering just how 
strong the stuff was. It burned a track down his throat, 
and he gasped for air again.
    How had she been able to do that? Haddad undid his 
shirt and lifted it free of his torso. A deep flush flowed 
across the left side of his body. It all spread from the 
band. He looked at his arm for quite a while. How could 
something have such control of his body and leave him 
unaware of his vulnerability? Haddad also wondered why he 
had never cut the band off. He decided many times that he 
wanted it gone but always came up with a rationale for 
retaining it. Could more than just his body be vulnerable? 
Could the device be affecting his mind as well?
    Haddad crawled to the cutout that he had observed 
Erissa through. This immediate act of defiance so soon 
after Latulla's lesson convinced him that his mind was 
still his own. He lifted the block out very carefully.
    "That's all for now, Iola," he heard Latulla say. Iola 
withdrew.
    "That was a very impressive display last night," said 
Erissa. "I almost believed it was real rage fueling that 
outburst."
    "After all the work I put into having the religious 
firebrands show up?" Latulla replied cynically. "It took 
quite a lot of time and mood drugs in the refreshments to 
provoke that riot. It was all I could do not to laugh at 
the fools."
    Erissa did laugh. "Now we will arrive with news of 
last night chasing us and a personal reason to call for a 
decision on the witch kings and the invasion." Erissa's 
voice became more thoughtful. "The women of an entire 
continent to fill the cradles of Keld."
    "I will have an additional reason to dangle before the 
council. Lord Druik has survived the round of 
experiments," Latulla announced triumphantly.
    "I hope my assistant Greel was useful in your 
endeavor," Erissa said.
    "His aid was important to the project," Latulla 
admitted. "I was surprised that you found a boy with such 
skill. It was a shame that he could not stay with me full-
time while working on the war leader."
    "I am afraid that I have important tasks that only he 
could can perform to my satisfaction," Erissa explained.
    "I am surprised that you haven't banded him, even if 
he is a Keldon," Latulla observed.
    "My grip on him is sure enough," Erissa said. "I 
performed a few simple ceremonies to anchor my fist in his 
soul. Perhaps after the invasion I can introduce them to 
you."
    Haddad would be just as glad if he never saw Greel 
again. He toyed very briefly with the idea of revealing 
some of what he knew to Latulla. That fantasy he shook off 
immediately. Even if she believed him, there was no 
guarantee that she wouldn't embrace it. He certainly 
thought her heart black enough for the deed.
    "Well I must be going," Erissa announced. "If I am to 
speak to all of the cradle mistresses before your meeting 
with the council, I must be off at once. I will see you 
again at the Necropolis." Erissa stood, and Haddad could 
hear her cane tapping as she exited the building. 
Realizing that silence would only gain him pain if Latulla 
did not hear him working, he quickly replaced the cutout 
and began gathering tools.
    Haddad managed to follow Latulla till mid-afternoon, 
carrying out orders, relaying messages, and not provoking 
another lesson in pain. It was something of a personal 
best. Soon it was time for Latulla and household to depart 
for the Necropolis. There were seven heavy wagons of just 
her personal baggage, and Haddad found it an interesting 
contrast to Latulla's voyage without a single personal 
servant when coming back to Keld.
    At last the wagons and warriors were arrayed in a 
line, and Latulla inspected each wagon and soldier. The 
warriors stood ready with swords and spears at hand, but 
the commanders and common soldiers looked disturbed as 
Latulla stopped and minutely inspected weapons and armor.
    "She acts a warlord," a Keldon soldier whispered to 
another as Haddad lagged behind Latulla. There was a 
general atmosphere of confusion, and Latulla seemed to 
sense it, for she jumped on top of a wagon to look across 
her servants and warriors.
    "Today is the start of a new era," she called. "The 
witch kings sleep until Keld can call them forth. We will 
call them forth! The wagons hold the means to raise the 
kings, and I know it is time to awaken them. We are the 
first units of an army that will sweep the world under our 
feet as the witch kings lead us to victory." She raised 
her arms and shouted, "To the Necropolis!" She jumped down 
and ran to her colos steed. The convoy moved out of the 
gate with Latulla leading. Haddad wondered at the mood of 
the soldiers. There had been only a half-hearted cheer, 
and every gray face seemed lost in thought as Latulla's 
crusade began.

                          * * * * *

    Another party joined Latulla's on the road, and Haddad 
had his first pleasant surprise in quite some time. He 
overheard two guards talking.
    "The warlord killed a sea beast that devoured 
everything," one warrior said. "Though crippled by his 
injuries and old wounds, he turned the tide of the 
battle."
    "He was a great captain years ago against the giants.
    Perhaps these new victories will propel Druik and his 
retainers to glory and command once again."
    At the mention of Druik, Haddad hurried toward the new 
arrivals. The wagons did bear Lord Druik's sigils, though 
the lord traveled in an enclosed wagon surrounded by 
guards. Haddad wondered how much of the lord survived the 
trip to Keld, but his wondering turned to merriment when 
he spotted an old friend traveling well back in the party.
    "Fumash!" he yelled.
    The small slave quickly glanced to see who might be 
calling. A smile lit his face as Haddad approached. It was 
strange to see Fumash's teeth the same yellow as the other 
slaves rather than the rich black Haddad remembered. The 
former customs inspector had a long scar on one side of 
his face, hooking from the eye to his mouth. He looked 
altogether more dangerous than before.
    "Haddad, I thought you long dead or lost here in the 
north," Fumash said. An overseer came hurrying toward the 
pair, and Haddad lifted his sleeve to show the bronze 
armlet.
    "I see you have moved up in the world while I have 
moved down," Fumash commented, his smile vanishing as he 
saw Haddad's symbol of special status.
    "What do you mean? Don't you still serve Lord Druik?" 
Haddad asked.
    "I have not seen Druik since he was sealed up in 
stasis. When I was decanted in Keld, Latulla had taken him 
to some remote place to recuperate. I was left to the 
welcoming arms of Yacuta, Druik's female business manager, 
social secretary, and other wifely equivalents." Fumash 
shook his head and continued, "In Jamuraa my skills were 
valuable, but in Keld where women already form an educated 
class, I was considered only as valuable as the physical 
labor I could perform." Fumash looked stronger, but he was 
still a small man, and Haddad nodded his head in sympathy.
    "Now perhaps my luck is turning because it is rumored 
Druik will be returning to Jamuraa, and a literate and 
organized slave will be valuable once again." Fumash 
looked at his friend. "What happened to you, Haddad?"
    "I awakened only a few weeks ago in Latulla's house," 
Haddad said. "I had to build a steel ant for her," he 
confessed, his shame showing on his face. "I thought to 
use it somehow to escape, but she has already frozen its 
controls to respond to her. I think she wanted an attack 
dog at her beck and call."
    "Wait a moment," Fumash said, interrupting Haddad's 
recollections. "You awakened only a few weeks ago?" He 
looked intently at the technical officer.
    "At most. To be honest, I haven't kept very good track 
of time." Haddad was wry as he confessed his failing.
    "Haddad, it has been months since the ship came in, 
not weeks," Fumash spoke with intensity. "The Keldons 
waken everyone when they have landfall. Druik was still in 
stasis, but he was a special case. Why would you be kept 
in stasis?"
    Haddad tried to think of a reason that he would have 
been left in storage. He had assumed that waking off the 
ship was a normal experience. Now it was unusual, and the 
former League soldier didn't like the vulnerability that 
he felt.
    "The first thing I remember is waking up in a bed, 
fully dressed, in a private room in Latulla's house. The 
housekeeper came in while I was up and put me straight to 
work building Latulla's ant." It did sound strange now 
that he related it aloud.
    "From what I experienced and from what others have 
told me, waking up out of stasis is not something you 
forget. You gasp for air as the smoke fills your lungs. 
And as for dressing you in new clothes, a man in stasis is 
as solidly unbending as rock. None of this makes sense," 
Fumash said emphatically.
    Haddad leaned a little closer and spoke in a whisper, 
not caring how suspicious it looked to whoever might be 
watching. He tapped the metal circling his arm.
    "The band inflicts pain, my friend. When Latulla 
wishes, I writhe and wish for death." Haddad paused. 
"Perhaps I was kept in stasis until she could attach this 
leash." He struck the armband hard and then shook his hand 
to ease the pain in his fingers.
    "It is possible," Fumash conceded. "The other 
possibility is that you were awake earlier but have 
somehow forgotten everything that occurred." Fumash 
glanced over his shoulder and stepped away. "My mistress 
approaches."
    Yacuta rode forward on a colos to see who the strange 
slave was. When she saw the armband with Latulla's mark, 
she rode no closer but stared at Fumash and Haddad with 
lidded eyes. Realizing that an extended conversation would 
lead to an equally extended interrogation for Fumash, 
Haddad cut their talk short and walked quickly back to the 
wagon containing his gear.
    How could he find out what happened? No matter what, 
one thing was sure. If he was awakened earlier than he 
thought, then Latulla and Iola had conspired to keep him 
ignorant.

                          * * * * *

    The convoy made good mileage that day. Latulla 
arranged accommodations by taking the wagons to the 
largest house in the area and expelling the owners and 
their chattel. The country was rocky, and each great house 
stood alone or far from its neighbors. Haddad was seeing a 
land without the cities and towns or even villages that he 
had expected.
    Every day brought another brooding, massive peaked 
house into view as Latulla settled in for the night. She 
took the lord's rooms and sent servants scuttling out of 
the way. In the hinterlands, no one dared refuse her, so a 
series of houses were abandoned to her use. Soon they drew 
near the Necropolis, and the land and people began to 
change. Now the houses were closer together, and Haddad 
began to see signs of trade on the road. Latulla now 
picked the smaller houses, instead of the largest ones, to 
occupy. Warlords watched and drilled their soldiers as 
Latulla passed their dwellings. Latulla's reputation as a 
sudden guest made her few allies, but no one openly 
opposed the column's passage.
    As the march continued, Haddad was able to speak to 
Fumash several more times. The two friends wandered far to 
the left of the column and paralleled the main party. 
Fumash seemed particularly despondent, and Haddad asked 
him to explain the march, hoping the role of instructor 
might improve his friend's mood.
    "Latulla and her supporters believe that the death of 
the Witch King Kreig marked the end of the Second Cycle of 
Blood and the beginning of a new cycle," Fumash said, 
looking toward the column and then back to Haddad. "The 
first cycle was the mixing of ancient warrior races in the 
time of the Heroes. Tribes and nations congealed to form 
the early Keldons. Then the second cycle marked the 
forging of the witch kings. The final years of the cycle 
birthed the greatest of the witch kings through training 
and breeding. Kreig was the result of generations, and 
many Keldons believe that the enemies of the Second Cycle 
attacked Keld to stop Kreig and the emergence of a perfect 
people."
    Haddad laughed. Perfect was not a word that he would 
apply to such bloodthirsty barbarians.
    "Remember," Fumash said, "this is what Latulla and her 
faction professes. They believe that Kreig was the 
ultimate warrior, and when he fell, the Second Cycle 
ended. The Third Cycle is the creation of an army to 
conquer the world. Now every man is a warrior, and the 
females have the responsibility of running the nation. The 
cradle houses arose to allow the expansion of Keld through 
careful breeding with captured women of spirit and 
ability. It allowed the Keldon women to run the rest of 
the society while Keldons were pulled from the wombs of 
captured women. Now more and more warriors swell the 
Keldon ranks every year, and many believe Keld should 
march and conquer the globe. Every cycle to date has ended 
in a sea of blood, and Latulla and her allies are 
desperate for a war. They believe that an enemy will pull 
Keld down once more, and generations might pass before the 
nation will rise again. They want the war now while they 
are strong."
    "But why this march to the Necropolis?" Haddad asked. 
"They are already fighting throughout the world. This call 
for battle seems superfluous."
    "In recent months there have been outbreaks of disease 
among the cradle women and poor harvests in some of the 
holdings. Latulla has seized on this as a sign that the 
final battle is approaching, and she acts to take 
advantage. But the closer we get to the Necropolis, the 
fewer supporters she has. Yacuta right now rides to houses 
to find supporters for Latulla in Druik's name. She finds 
very few, and her temper grows more foul by the day." Even 
as Fumash spoke, Haddad could see Yacuta returning. His 
companion immediately turned and walked toward the column. 
Haddad followed behind, wondering at this sudden turn.
    "It is best not to be noticed in bad times," Fumash 
said as he rejoined the outriders of Druik's party. 
"Remember Haddad, we are nearing the heart of the enemy, 
and nothing is more dangerous than drawing attention."

                          * * * * *

    It was growing dark under a cloudy sky. For the first 
time, Latulla's party had not received use of a house. 
Scouts had returned to the column with news that no 
housing would be made available to the artificer. Haddad 
believed that only the proximity of the Necropolis and the 
need not to alienate possible supporters prevented Latulla 
from falling upon a house and slaughtering the inhabitants 
for shelter. Warriors circled fires as slaves hunted for 
ground to sleep on. Blankets and extra clothing were 
pulled from the wagons as many prepared for the night. 
Latulla's slaves were fairly close to a circle of young 
warriors. The League technician's eyes locked on one of 
the figures seated around the fire.
    Haddad watched Greel. The familiar had grown more. He 
towered over many of the slaves and was as tall as many of 
the warriors. He was slender and his face was narrow. A 
predatory smile showed on his face as he looked from 
warrior to warrior. As Haddad passed, Greel winked at the 
League officer and laid his hand on the warrior next to 
him. The warrior started coughing, and Haddad could see 
Greel squeezing the warrior's arm in apparent concern. To 
Haddad, Greel was checking the quality of the meat. As the 
coughing increased, Greel showed a small expression of 
disgust, as if the meat was slightly off. Haddad crowded 
into the group of sleeping slaves rather than staying 
apart as his custom. He pulled his hidden knife from his 
wallet and tried to sleep. He could see Greel's smile 
behind his closed eyelids, and he didn't get any rest.
    How long Haddad lay with his eyes open he could not 
say, but he was wide-awake when sudden motion caught the 
edge of his vision. Two men stood not ten yards away. A 
wave of ice seemed to sweep over him as he recognized a 
face.
    Greel held his hand over his companion's mouth. The 
Keldon warrior was taller and heavier than the familiar 
but looked as helpless as a rabbit. The fighter tossed his 
head and tried to scream, but no sound issued. An absolute 
stillness covered the camp, and Haddad could barely grip 
his knife as he watched the Keldon's legs churning the 
ground. He could hear nothing, and the rest of the slaves 
slept on, oblivious. Haddad was frozen with more than 
fear. He could not even blink or avert his eyes. Like a 
dream, the attack continued, and no one could see it 
except Haddad. Greel pulled the warrior closer and began 
to sink down. The warrior's back arched, and the sudden 
stillness of his legs signaled the breaking of his back. 
In silence, the victim's arms flailed. The struggles grew 
more frenetic as Greel gripped the man's shoulders and 
squeezed. The warrior's mouth was open in scream, but 
still nothing could be heard. Then Greel crouched over the 
still body, and Haddad blinked. The sounds of the camp 
returned like a sudden clap of thunder. Haddad could hear 
the horses and colos at the edge of the camp. A few of the 
sleeping slaves around him groaned and turned over. Greel 
stood, shaking out his cloak and then hauling the cooling 
corpse up and draping a shattered arm over his shoulder. 
His eyes lifted from his victim and stared at Haddad. For 
a long moment Greel looked at the technician and then 
smiled. He backed away, the corpse dragging at his side.
    The morning saw many of the slaves complaining of 
aching joints and tiredness. Greel was nowhere to be seen. 
There was no outcry over the missing warrior, and Haddad 
wondered if Latulla was covering for the monster. Several 
of the livestock had died as well during the night, and 
Haddad thought it amusing that the death of the animals 
was marked with swearing and questions while the 
disappearance of a man was ignored. Haddad wondered if 
Greel was connected with the animal deaths as well.
    For several days they had been drawing closer to a 
cluster of hills surrounding a mountain. As they came 
closer, Haddad noticed that the mountain was surprisingly 
regular. Finally, he realized that the mountain was the 
Keldon Necropolis, city of the witch kings.
    Latulla was marching on the center of religious, 
political, and military power of the Keldon nation. Each 
great building that they passed was merely a gatehouse to 
galleries under the earth. They passed an empty sealed 
barrack that waited for the witch king's armies. It 
reminded Haddad of the badlands. It lacked life, and the 
column's presence seemed an intrusion. The landscape 
dwarfed mortal men, and Latulla's supporters grew fewer 
the closer they came to the Warlords' Council. At last the 
entrance to the Council Hall appeared. A mighty fortress 
with walls thirty feet high, great towers supported the 
corners of the wall, and the gatehouse sat at the bottom 
of a steep ramp leading to the central keep. The heart of 
the fortress jutted directly out of the mountain rock, as 
if the mountain had half swallowed the building. Latulla 
stopped. No one was visible, and the gates were closed. 
She advanced, looking for someone to announce her.
    "I seek an audience with the council!" she yelled, and 
her voice echoed, the sound mocking.
    Slowly, a sally port opened and out stepped a woman. 
She wore a gray cloak with the hood thrown back, her dress 
a faded red. At her breast was the sign of a cradle 
mistress that Haddad could see as she moved forward. An 
iron-shod staff was in her hands, its haft covered in 
runes. Her face appeared unlined, and only her voice 
hinted at her age as she spoke.
    "I, Gorsha, greet you. As a servant to the Witch King 
Council, I await your reasons for intruding."
    Latulla's servants and allies drew away, leaving her 
isolated.
    "These are the final days," Latulla declared as all 
eyes locked on her. "Keld is failing! The warriors who 
should carry on our legacy die in the cradle houses. The 
armies and navies of lesser nations thwart us. The legacy 
of heroes is being stolen, and we are locked in futile 
argument! My own house is torn with fights over when the 
hour of the final days will occur."
    There was a long pause. Gorsha showed nothing except a 
slight frown.
    "It is time to march! Time to take control of our 
destiny and wake the witch kings of old!"
    Latulla's supporters began shouting. "Wake the kings! 
Wake the kings!"
    Gorsha raised her staff and brought it down on the 
stone cobbles. The resulting noise screamed right across 
the mind and sanity. Haddad could almost hear his bones 
wincing at the sound.
    "Very impressive," was Gorsha's measured response to 
Latulla's oration. "But shouts will not wake the kings, or 
they would have risen long ago. The final days cannot 
occur until the witch kings rise. The council finds you 
unpersuasive and foolish." She shook her head from side to 
side as if chiding a child.
    "Then you shall have proof that I can do what I have 
promised," Latulla answered. "Many of the witch kings are 
shattered in body and must be healed before they can rise. 
I present Lord Druik to prove that such miracles are 
possible."
    Druik's brave actions in saving the ship on its way to 
Keld had expanded until he was a mighty hero in many 
Keldon eyes. The fact that he suffered grievous wounds 
only increased his stature. All held their breath as the 
covers on Druik's wagon lifted, and the giant walked out.
    The war leader wore heavy armor and surveyed the 
crowd. Haddad wondered what trick was being played as 
Druik came closer. He heard the light whisper of sliding 
cables as the warlord turned, sweeping the Keldons with 
his gaze. Druik was as crippled as ever, but somehow 
Latulla had created a set of armor that he could pilot. 
Haddad's eyes focused on a raised blister on the armor's 
breast. Haddad knew where the powerstone was, and more 
details on Druik's armor flooded into his mind. Haddad 
knew now that he had woken and helped Latulla construct 
the armor. Glimpses of weeks working on Druik played 
through his mind. Latulla had crushed his memories, and 
only now did Haddad realize how deep her control over him 
ran.
    Gorsha stepped away from the gate and approached 
Latulla. An uneasy muttering broke out, and Haddad 
wondered if this signaled some break in tradition. Each 
step she took raised the tension, and he could see Latulla 
bracing herself for battle. Gorsha stopped, and when she 
spoke, only the closest could hear her.
    "A masterful performance, but I am not impressed by 
your puppet," Gorsha said coldly. "I will not allow you to 
pass, and if you force your way through, the council will 
destroy you and your allies."
    "I will not back down," Latulla said softly. "The 
kings will rise under my hands." Her eyes shone at the 
idea.
    Gorsha's distasteful grimace told Haddad that 
Latulla's quest was hopeless. The council servant stepped 
back and called to the crowd.
    "Latulla's demands are rejected!" Gorsha cried. "Her 
mad schemes are to be opposed by all true sons and 
daughters of Keld. I challenge her now." Gorsha spoke more 
quietly. "Win and the council might hear your plea, but 
lose and your cause falls with you. Your supporters will 
depart, and never again will a crowd cry to 'wake the 
kings.' "
    "I accept!" Latulla yelled. "Let the strongest 
prevail!"
    Though the day was drawing to a close, the entire 
party turned and followed the two matriarchs as the pair 
walked down the path. Still there was no sign of the 
council, and more warriors and women were leaving 
Latulla's entourage. Haddad could see his master growing 
more and more angry at each defection. Fumash won free of 
Yacuta and hurried over to Haddad.
    "It is a contest of magical strength," he told Haddad. 
"When they find a large enough space the combat will 
begin. I have heard other slaves describing the fights."
    "You think there would be a ring or formal arena," 
Haddad said as the company turned toward an open area.
    "Too much damage for it to survive," Fumash answered 
and then stopped. The rest of the crowd stood still while 
Latulla and Gorsha continued on. Mages and wizards who 
followed Latulla began chanting and focusing their power 
to protect the crowd. Gorsha had no seconds, and Haddad 
wondered if she was a fool. Could Keldon honor be so 
powerful that cheating was impossible? Who would enforce 
the rules of the duel?
    Latulla struck while the pair was still walking. A 
bolt of flame flared from her hand and enveloped Gorsha. 
The council servant was hidden from view, and Haddad could 
hear the rocks around her pop as they heated. Then the 
flames guttered and contracted, shrinking into tiny 
wavelets of flame that danced along Gorsha's staff.
    Latulla retreated, her arms raised and her cloak 
billowing as she opened the distance between herself and 
her opponent. Haddad crowded into the front lines with 
Keldons pushing and shoving their way forward for a better 
view.
    Gorsha's staff swallowed the last of the flame, and as 
she gestured, it vomited great gouts of smoke. The vapors 
collected around the council servant until she was lost in 
a roiling cloud. Latulla threw more bolts of fire, each 
blast vanishing into the smoke. Latulla's hands dripped 
flames as she tried to find Gorsha. The cloud was still 
expanding and shapes began to appear. Birds and gargoyles 
formed from the smoke, and they swooped through the air, 
diving at Latulla. The artificer scrambled away as 
vaporous appendages swatted at her face. More and more 
attackers flew, and Haddad thought Latulla would die as 
smoke tried to force its way into her lungs.
    Fire once again burned on the dueling ground as a long 
streamer of flame danced from Latulla's fingertips, 
playing over the smoke creatures trying to smother her. 
With each touch of the fiery ribbon, the shapes burst into 
flame. Within seconds, an army of burning vapors rose into 
the air and then turned to fall on Gorsha. Each creation 
exploded as it entered her magical shield, and Gorsha's 
protective covering was tattered as each traitorous 
offspring returned to its former master.
    Latulla cast flames into the ground, and a blaze 
sptang up. It mounted higher, and then like a prairie 
fire, it raced toward Gorsha's smoke. Haddad viciously 
elbowed a warrior, crowding him as Latulla closed with her 
opponent.
    Gorsha's smoke thickened and began falling as a dense 
ash, smothering Latulla's flames under a growing blanket. 
Latulla pressed the attack harder. She created a long 
sword of brilliant blue fire and chopped at the thinning 
smoke, cutting through Gorsha's protection.
    Gorsha stepped out of the cloud suddenly, and Haddad 
waited for the magical counterstrike. Instead Gorsha 
stepped inside Latulla's swing and hammered Latulla's 
temple with a closed fist. The artificer's sword of flame 
flickered out as Gorsha continued to deal out physical 
blows, each punch distracting Latulla, preventing her from 
mustering her forces. Soon Latulla was on the ground.
    An incoherent roar broke Haddad's fascinated gaze as 
Druik charged into the field. Haddad could hear bones 
breaking as Druik smashed into the warriors nearby. Lord 
Druik was running down the mountain to aid Latulla, each 
stride coming faster. Gorsha was stepping back to swing 
her staff when Druik arrived in a long slide, separating 
the combatants. Rocks thrown up by Druik left bloody 
bruises on both combatants, and the warrior turned to face 
Gorsha. The steel ant broke free from the wagons and 
arrived at a run. The council servant parried strikes from 
its mandibles as it attacked her. The crowd around Haddad 
gasped at the interruptions, but no one interfered as 
Gorsha continued to avoid the war machine's attacks. 
Whether by design or accident, Latulla's creations 
protected their mistress.
    Gorsha stopped retreating, and now her parries cracked 
the ant's armor in magically enhanced blows that pealed 
like thunder. The legs shattered, and Gorsha seemed to 
laugh as she turned the machine into a pile of scrap after 
several heavy blows. But Druik still stood guard over 
Latulla, and the artificer rose, her bloody face snarled 
as she cast a magical attack.
    Gorsha's cloak and dress began to ripple and then 
smolder as Latulla directed her hatred at her opponent. 
The council servant's hair stood out from her head, and 
Haddad could see her image wavering as the air heated as 
well.
    "Enough!" Gorsha shouted and raised her staff high 
over her head, plunging it into the earth. The ground 
trembled under Haddad's feet as soil and stone shattered 
and fountained high into the sky. Rising, it blocked the 
sight of the sun and hung as a mountain over Latulla and 
Druik. Both retreated to avoid being swallowed by the pit 
growing before them, but they could do nothing about the 
attack building over their heads. The pyroclastic cloud 
collapsed. The superheated vapor and particles of rock hit 
as a tidal wave. All vegetation and animals within 
hundreds of yards were burned, crushed, and suffocated. A 
great groan sounded from the Keldon magic users protecting 
the crowd from the attack. All of them united were barely 
able to stay Gorsha's anger.
    Eventually the cloud settled and dispersed. The 
landscape was different, sculpted into bizarre shapes in 
seconds by the mighty spell. Gorsha stood at the edge of a 
great pit. On the other side were two bodies encased in 
stone. Magic users poured power to cool the ground so the 
crowd might descend to view the aftermath.
    When Haddad and Fumash reached the scene, Gorsha was 
standing tall again. Druik's armor and limbs had been 
blown free, and at Gorsha's nod, Latulla's former allies 
threw the body into the pit. Latulla was encased, and 
Gorsha's supporters moved to throw her down as well.
    "Hold!" Gorsha called. "She lives yet." The midwife 
surveyed the destruction and gave her orders.
    "She has failed. Let her and her servants die and 
wither in far off lands. Let her never leave Jamuraa as 
long as I draw breath." Gorsha considered the crowd. "The 
strongest has prevailed, and the witch kings shall not be 
disturbed again by any in this company."
    Warriors rounded up Latulla's servants and her closest 
allies. Fumash was dragged away by Yacuta before Haddad 
could say a word. As Haddad was kicked back toward the 
wagons he felt hope rekindle in his heart. Sentenced to 
Jamuraa, another chance to escape for home, he laughed as 
he was crowded together with the losers of Latulla's bid 
for power.
    
                        Chapter 15

    "We can win this war, Teferi," Barrin said, looking 
over the defensive works going up around the city. "But if 
we lose here then the League is finished."
    The defensive works appeared to be on schedule. A 
series of trenches and traps grew under Barrin's orders. 
Technically, General Mageta was in charge. Barrin had been 
surprised to see him alive. The landslides unleashed by 
the wizard's covering attack for the retreating army had 
buried the general, but he had dug himself out and fought 
his way through Keldon excavation teams to rejoin the 
League forces. When the army withdrew west to Arsenal 
City, it was Mageta who commanded on the ground.
    "The core of the League weapons development is here, 
and it's next in the path of the Keldons," Teferi said 
resignedly. "If only it were farther away."
    Arsenal City was in a flat valley near the coast. The 
surrounding hills were thick with mines. Metals and tufa 
flowed down to the city for industrial use. For 
generations small factories turned out war machines for 
the Kipamu League cities. The steel ants, crabs, and 
mantises were all manufactured there. A network of roads 
and a canal connected the factories to the rest of the 
League and the ocean port, but it was still isolated. Men 
and supplies took weeks to arrive.
    "Will you be able to hold the walls with the men you 
have?" Teferi asked. The wall enclosing the city was only 
twenty feet high, and years of maintenance and repair had 
been missed. A few sections had been raided for building 
material. Men under Barrin's orders tore down houses 
inside the city to reclaim stones for the defensive works.
    "We'll fight in the earthworks outside the walls," 
Barrin replied. "We need the fighting room, and the 
factories inside the city can't produce with soldiers 
filling the streets." Even as the two friends looked out 
into the valley, a stream of fighting machines and weapons 
were being produced behind them. Technicians trembled with 
fatigue, and warehouses emptied as the factories squeezed 
out every last ounce of production.
    "I'll have a few words with the war machine builders 
before I go," Teferi said. "I'll bring back supplies and 
the men we need. Is your glide bomb project any closer to 
success?"
    "Nearly," Barrin replied. "With the new Keldon fire 
barges out there, blimps just can't survive long enough to 
drop bombs. If we can work out a few production headaches, 
we'll have a weapon we can use from airships."
    "I'm surprised Rayne is not working on the problem," 
Teferi said. "I hear she is scouting outside the city." 
Teferi was stuffing the notes and maps he had brought into 
a travel case. Barrin looked out toward the horizon.
    "Rayne returned to check on a pattern of blight in the 
northwest. She thinks it might be related to the Keldon 
attacks," Barrin said distractedly. "She thinks it might 
signal some new Keldon weapon or destructive spell. She 
thinks that it's important to find out what's affecting 
the land."
    Teferi waited a moment then shook his head. He left 
the wizard lost in thought and staring out over the 
defensive works growing slowly as scared soldiers wielded 
their shovels.

                          * * * * *

    "Are they inside yet?" Rayne asked. The scout shook 
his head. Rayne looked to either side of her. Ten runners 
crouched in the bottom of the ditch. A few hundred yards 
away a small Keldon land barge was stopped in front of an 
abandoned farmhouse. Hopefully the Keldon riders would 
dismount and search the farmhouse for food, giving Rayne 
and her group the opportunity to attack.
    "Are you sure that barge contains the blight?" Rayne 
pressed.
    Shalanda was haggard from days in the field and the 
strain of trying to find the source of the disease showing 
throughout the central forests. Finally, the healer found 
a trace to follow, and it led to the farmhouse. But the 
Keldon barge had proved an unpleasant surprise. Rayne was 
searching for signs of a plant contagion, not looking for 
combat. The scouts had withdrawn into a shallow gully and 
knelt their machines. Then her aide gave her more bad 
news.
    "I am sure there is a concentration of blight onboard 
that vehicle. Maybe we can identify the source and find 
out where it comes from," Shalanda said.
    Rayne shook her head and glanced at the scout watching 
the disembarking Keldons. If only Jolreal were still here. 
The women had expected to find a particularly thick or 
heavy concentration of disease, not a vehicle filled with 
armed men. Jolreal and the rest of the scouts were strung 
out toward the east. Rayne did have a group of steel ants 
attached to one of the scouts. The League was 
experimenting with long-range raiding parties, and the 
scout was evaluating how well the war machines kept up 
with the Tolarian runners. Combat was something to avoid, 
but now a key piece of the puzzle might lie only yards 
away. There was no choice. Rayne needed to capture the 
barge.
    "I think they're all outside the vehicle," the scout 
whispered down. "They're starting to search the 
outbuildings now. They won't be there much longer." Rayne 
knew it was time to attack.
    "Shalanda, stay alert for any sign of magic. Worry 
about the wounded after we've won," Rayne admonished her 
aide. Then she waved and brought her runner up out of the 
gully. The line of runners crested the lip of the 
depression in a ragged line and silently charged the 
Keldons. Halfway to the farmhouse a warrior saw the scouts 
and bellowed a warning.
    The barge was small, and the upper wooden shield was 
open. Eight of the runners unleashed a barrage of bolts 
into the interior, killing whatever crew remained inside. 
Boxes of cargo shattered as the runners' projectiles 
smashed through the vehicle and impacted against the walls 
of the house. Four scouts dismounted, drawing weapons and 
throwing themselves into the barge to secure it. Rayne and 
the scout commanding the ants swept around the Keldon 
vehicle.
    The enemy warriors converged on the stone and timber 
farmhouse, diving through the door as Rayne unleashed her 
bolts. Retreating warriors sprawled in sliding falls as 
they died at a full run. The League scout drove his steel 
ants before him like a pack of hounds. The war machines 
piled onto the warriors, mandibles tearing at limbs and 
weapons. A Keldon held off an ant as his fellows struck 
off its limbs. The ant had its revenge as it amputated the 
man's arm. Two ants worried at a warrior like dogs with a 
toy, leaving a trail of blood and gore as they grappled 
with the corpse. Rayne and another scout brought their 
runners into the melee, triggering metal wings. The blades 
cut through armor and flesh as the Tolarian machines 
circled. The Keldons outside were dead, but their 
sacrifice allowed their companions to complete their 
retreat into the house.
    The door slammed shut, and the sounds of furniture 
being piled in a barricade could be heard. The ants 
shifted in front of the building, and a few circled around 
the sides, searching for access. The house appeared stout, 
and Rayne could see movement through a few narrow windows. 
She rode back to the Keldon vehicle.
    The rest of her party surrounded the small land barge. 
They had captured the craft with no losses, and Shalanda 
examined the interior and its cargo. The other scouts had 
remounted and stood ready to continue the attack. Rayne 
considered what to do. She had achieved her primary 
objective, but there was still a party of armed enemy 
warriors to deal with. Storming the house seemed a bad 
idea as sounds of barricade building continued.
    "Can you move the barge farther back from the house?" 
Rayne called to Shalanda.
    "I don't think so," she replied. "The Keldons have 
turned off the motivating force. This isn't going to move 
an inch without their cooperation."
    A crossbow bolt shot from the house and imbedded 
itself in the upper shell supports. Shalanda hopped out of 
the vehicle and crouched behind the barge's legs. Another 
shot skimmed along the ground and rebounded off a runner's 
leg.
    "Apparently, they aren't going to cooperate," Rayne 
said as she signaled the other scouts to crowd against the 
barge and crouch their machines so the Keldon vehicle 
blocked shots. "Call back your ants," Rayne ordered the 
ant handler.
    The steel ants still circled the house and dug at the 
walls, but the scout called them back with a whistle. They 
came at good speed, but one collected a bolt that crippled 
its rear legs. It dragged the dead limbs as it continued 
on the other four.
    "We need to see if the Keldons are exiting the rear of 
the house," Rayne said and pointed to a League soldier. 
"Circle around and check if our reluctant friends are 
doing anything. Keep your eyes open for enemy 
reinforcements." The scout looked apprehensive as he 
turned and raced away. He stopped and began riding in a 
circle to stay out of range of the crossbows.
    "Reload weapons," Rayne ordered. The scouts paired 
off. Leaning far to the side, a rider could just feed 
fresh bolts to another person's runner while keeping 
behind cover. Rayne guided her machine to her aide who was 
popping her head up to look inside the barge in quick 
glances. "What do you think?" she asked.
    "I need only a few more minutes to examine the barge," 
Shalanda replied. "There are crates of vegetation and a 
few sealed boxes that seem related to the blight but 
somehow different. If only I could open the crates. 
Perhaps if I am quick enough?"
    Rayne shook her head. "Without heavy shielding it's 
just too dangerous," the scholar said. "If we can't move 
the barge, we'll have to clear out the house."
    "If I lie on the floor of the barge I should be safe 
enough," Shalanda insisted.
    "Eventually the Keldons are going to realize that we 
want the barge and its contents," Rayne said. "I expect a 
barrage of burning crossbow bolts will soon follow. We 
need to move now. Save your energy for healing and 
investigating the barge. I don't know how soon Keldon 
reinforcements might arrive."
    Rayne turned her machine toward the other scouts who 
gathered around her. They crouched lower as another 
crossbow bolt sailed through the barge and off into the 
distance. A scout began feeding bolts into Rayne's 
machine.
    "We need a plan of attack," she said.
    "We could send in the ants to open up the walls," 
offered one scout. "It would take time, but we could drive 
them out." The ants could chew through heavy walls, but it 
was slow.
    "We need to end this fast so Shalanda can finish 
examining the cargo," Rayne replied.
    The ant handler reached into a saddlebag and drew out 
a metal cylinder.
    "If I could get some covering fire, I could burn them 
out." The scout was carefully taking the container apart. 
A fragile pottery vessel lay inside. "The other scouting 
parties captured a fire barge last week. I and a few 
others decided to test some of the munitions. This should 
start a fire without Shalanda expending herself."
    "Everyone go around the right side of the barge and 
fire your bolts into the windows facing us," Rayne ordered 
and then pointed to the handler. "Go around the right side 
of the machine and run up to the right-hand corner of the 
house. Stay clear of the front windows or you might be 
shot."
    The scouts quickly jockeyed for position, and then 
Rayne gave the signal.
    Eight runners darted out and unleashed a steady 
barrage of bolts. Two crossbow bolts came from the house, 
one sinking into a scout's arm. Blood spurted out of a cut 
artery, and the man sent his machine back behind the 
barge. Shalanda pulled him out of the saddle and in 
seconds was locked in a healing trance.
    Meanwhile, the ant handler's machine reached the 
house. One ant followed, like a dog after a horse, trying 
to keep up. The scout paused at the corner and threw the 
captured Keldon munitions onto the building. The pottery 
broke, and a thick, oozing molasseslike liquid slowly 
coated the wall. The scout and the accompanying ant raced 
back for cover.
    "Back behind the barge!" Rayne called, and the scouts 
retreated. The ant handler dismounted and crawled onto the 
deck of the barge. He creeped forward, dragging his 
launcher behind him. Then he sat up and fired a light 
rocket toward the house, aiming at the liquid soaked into 
the timber and coating the stone base. The projectile blew 
a hole only a hand's breadth wide, but it ignited the 
fluid. Within seconds the fire caught and spread over the 
house. The hole left by the rocket seemed to suck the fire 
inside, and Rayne could hear Keldons screaming inside. 
Smoke poured from around the barricaded door and windows. 
Warriors threw shutters open and tried to breathe and then 
crawl through the small openings.
    The handler rolled to the backside of the barge and 
whistled the ants to him. The war machines milled below, 
and then, at his direction, ran toward the burning 
building. The warriors inside forced open the door, 
kicking the remnants of the barricade into the yard. They 
exited coughing and crawling. Each warrior must have been 
nearly blind from the smoke and many waved swords wildly 
against attackers they could not see. Like helpless 
kittens they died under the implacable jaws of the war 
machines. Ants hauled the bodies away, tearing at the dead 
flesh.
    "Circle and pick off anyone on the other side," Rayne 
ordered. "Keep an eye out for that crossbow." She sent her 
machine toward the house, swinging wide to see around the 
building. The ant handler remounted and accompanied her. 
Shalanda was already searching through the crates.
    Rayne watched the house burn. The smoke poured out so 
thickly it was hard to see the building. A Keldon and 
servant tore out a window frame and stumbled clear, 
coughing and teary-eyed but both carrying loaded 
crossbows. The ant handler bolted them, and they dropped, 
twisting as they fell so they lay against the wall.
    "They came a long way to die," Rayne said. Burning 
pieces of the shutters fell onto the bodies, igniting 
their clothes.
    "Well, I didn't invite them," the handler replied. The 
building was totally engulfed in flames, and the roof 
collapsed into the building's interior. The handler 
whistled the steel ants together and headed back to the 
captured barge. Rayne smelled the roasting flesh and 
wondered how many more lives would be destroyed in the 
war. At last, she turned her machine and started for her 
aide to see just what they had captured.
    "I found the source of what I sensed earlier," 
Shalanda said. She kicked open a crate, and out poured 
dead ground squirrels. Each tiny corpse had been covered 
with a layer of preservative, and the bodies stuck 
together like melted hard candy. "The animals all died 
without a mark. The other special crates contain other 
species of dead animals and samples of dead vegetation."
    "So animals are being targeted now as well as plants," 
Rayne said. "How are they spreading the disease?"
    "I can't tell without doing more research. I can use 
these samples to complete my own investigation." She 
looked at the crates with a more speculative eye. "Rayne, 
they may not be spreading the blight at all."
    "There is a connection," Rayne said. "They are driving 
people off the land, and the war is destroying what's 
left." Rayne looked to the burned-out shell of the 
farmhouse. "They are a disease that is killing this land."
    
                        Chapter 16

    "An army on the march is a terrible sight to behold," 
Barrin said. He peered through the glass at the mass of 
Keldon barges slowly advancing toward Arsenal City. The 
Kashan blimp he rode was high and miles from the Keldons. 
The fire barges accompanying the enemy force provided an 
umbrella of protection that he dared not violate. He could 
see the huge transport barges, some of which must have 
been just constructed, judging from their simple 
decorations and the almost pristine superstructures.
    "I see targets, not an army," Alexi said as she 
watched the forces snaking along the hills. "If it wasn't 
for those cursed fire barges, I'd be killing Keldons right 
now." She pointed, and Barrin focused his sight back 
through the glass. The barge was low slung and trailed 
smoke from secured braziers. The craft scuttled forward 
rapidly and then froze in a new position to provide cover 
to the column. Other fire barges could be seen dashing 
forward as the troop transports continued their advance.
    "If we could, I'd have you fighting now, but the new 
bombs aren't ready and won't be for weeks," Barrin said as 
he looked for the Kipamu League scouts who lay in ambush. 
"The design was finalized last week, but we are only 
starting construction. I don't know how long till we can 
get you the ordnance you need." A blimp swung out of a 
cloud ahead of them high in the sky. "Maybe that Mushan 
will have some luck."
    A dozen bombs began falling toward the ground. Every 
fire barge in the line cast flame upward in balls and 
streamers. The more distant vehicles sent skipping 
streamers as the Mushan dumped ballast to soar out of 
range. When Barrin reached out with his senses he could 
feel gas generators on full bore as the ship tried to 
generate extra lift.
    "He has blowers on, and the fire suppression is off," 
Barrin said with disbelief.
    Smoke clouds and particles of fire rose from the 
barges, and bombs fell into a space that cleared as the 
barges flowed away from the impact zone. One small barge 
was close to the drop site and shuddered to a halt before 
continuing after a few moments pause. Alexi turned back to 
Barrin.
    "If you drop from that high the Keldon mages will 
simply push your bombs off target. He should have dropped 
from a lower altitude." Alexi didn't condemn the Mushan 
pilot for taking a chance; she only thought him too 
cautious.
    "Alexi, you're not thinking of a low altitude run?" 
Barrin demanded.
    The Jamuraan mage only laughed. "Things will have to 
get a lot worse before I can talk the rest of the crew 
into a suicide run," she said and then sobered and 
considered the forces converging on Arsenal City. "I 
believe that by next week I will be ordered to do so if 
the city falls."
    A group of Tolarian runners and steel ants rushed from 
cover at a fire barge. The ants unleashed their rocket 
attacks en masse on the vehicle. The light loads that the 
ants carried didn't do much damage individually, but their 
collective damage shattered the vehicle's legs and smashed 
the catapult in the open interior. The secondary blast as 
the barge blew only knocked a few ants down as the League 
forces retreated at high speed.
    "Not much of a return for the risks they took," Alexi 
said as their blimp began to turn and fly at maximum speed 
toward Arsenal City.
    "No, but the fire barges are moving closer to the 
transports." Barrin was looking back at the Keldon forces. 
"If we can keep them bunched up so they can't dodge, maybe 
a high altitude attack will work before they reach the 
city. The other benefit is in making them angry. We need 
them to attack the army immediately."
    Alexi only nodded sadly, accepting the fact that 
whatever the result of the coming battle, the flying navy 
would only deal with the aftermath. The army would have to 
fight on its own.
    The city and its defensive works appeared before them, 
and Barrin got into a transport chair. The seat was a 
board on a sling and was attached to a rope dangling a few 
hundred feet under the blimp. Ground troops grabbed the 
rope to steady it as Barrin slid down. When he 
disconnected, the blimp jumped up, and its fans were 
shrill as it climbed. Mageta and Shalanda were among the 
ground crew.
    "How does it look?" General Mageta demanded.
    "The scouts are attacking the stragglers and going 
after the catapults," Barrin explained, waving Shalanda 
toward him as he saw her walking through the camp. "If the 
scouts obey orders and continue their hit and run tactics, 
the Keldons should perform as expected and attack 
immediately."
    Armorers set additional reloads outside the perimeter 
to load returning scouts and the steel ants. The marines 
were loading mantises with the heavy war rockets that 
filled their main weapons module. Barrin planned for the 
machines to cripple the transport barges while they were 
unloading. The men servicing the war machines seemed 
confident, but the infantrymen were nervous. Crates of 
rockets were moved out of supply dumps as the battle 
approached.
    "Shalanda, any sign of the contagion spreading from 
the eastern forests?" Barrin asked. If things went badly 
and there was a siege, illness could destroy the League 
army as brutally as a Keldon attack.
    "There seem to be just a few small pockets of 
influenza but no mass kills of animals or infection in the 
fields," Shalanda replied. "I've isolated the flu carriers 
and those who may have been exposed. Hopefully there won't 
be any problems." Rayne's aide still looked troubled.
    Barrin pressed further. "Can you do anything if there 
is a flare-up of disease?" the wizard asked.
    "We've curbed outbreaks of disease before, but I'm 
still uncertain about this one's true nature, and I can't 
pinpoint its source," Shalanda said candidly. "The blight 
and death of wildlife could strip the League as surely as 
the Keldon army." Barrin waved for her to withdraw, 
focusing on the problems of fighting the immediate enemy 
and allowing others to deal with the blight and wildlife 
deaths. Mageta moved closer as Shalanda made for the 
runner depot.
    "How many do you make the attackers?" Mageta asked. 
The general seemed filled with nervous energy, and Barrin 
wondered if it was fear or anticipation that fueled 
Mageta's emotions.
    "I would estimate the numbers of Keldons and war 
manikins at between ten and twenty thousand." Mageta's 
face fell as Barrin stated the size of the attacking army. 
The wizard tried to curb the blow.
    "We knew that we would be outnumbered. That's why we 
decided to dig in and engage the enemy here." He pointed 
out to the defenses that did not look quite so substantial 
now. "Make them assault fixed positions and prevent them 
from surrounding us piecemeal. And we've learned that the 
hollow warriors can be deployed for only a short time. We 
will win if we hold fast and force them to exhaust 
themselves." Mageta only nodded and ran to oversee the 
issuing of additional ammunition. The Kipamu League would 
be outnumbered at least four to one, and the infantry's 
lack of experience might be a blessing. Perhaps most of 
the men did not realize how truly desperate things had 
become.
    Barrin went to talk to his wife. Following in 
Shalanda's footsteps, he neared the runner depot where 
Rayne readied her runner for the press of battle. The 
runner was being carefully reloaded, the normal complement 
of war-bolts replaced by enhanced models that would do 
more damage at the sacrifice of range.
    Rayne was part of the regular army now. She had more 
experience than most of the current riders in using the 
machines. Jolreal and Shalanda still tracked the extent of 
the blight and the animal kills, but Rayne convinced 
Barrin that her skill at maintaining and managing the 
runners would be better employed in combat.
    "I still wish that you could stay within the walls," 
Barrin said to his wife. She finished securing loads for 
her personal weapon, so they would be at hand during the 
coming fight. "The light runners and the steel ants that 
we use are speed machines. Fighting in fixed positions 
would limit the damage we can do. Besides, this city is a 
trap if you don't win the initial battle. Out there I can 
reform and retreat far faster than the enemy can follow. I 
know your plan is based on exhausting the Keldons, but I 
would rather have room to maneuver."
    "You're right, of course, but I still can't help how I 
feel," Barrin explained. "If things go badly, I want you 
to withdraw west at your best speed. The other coastal and 
river cities have raised massive armies and are slowly 
working their way east. I think if we can just hold the 
city against this attack, the League will be able to fight 
for the conquered lands instead of waiting for attacks." 
Barrin gripped her shoulders and drew her into an embrace.
    "Your troops will be at the heart of any actions 
east." He paused for a moment. "You must be willing to 
accept our defeat if it comes to a choice between 
preserving your forces and saving the city."
    Rayne kissed him and mounted up. Her mixture of 
Tolarian and League soldiers followed her out of the 
defensive works to link up with the hordes of ants 
stationed in hidden depots far from the city. Barrin hoped 
that he and the city would survive the day but felt better 
that his wife was sure to survive.
    It was only minutes later that the first barges began 
to become visible. The Keldons deployed well back from 
Barrin's works. The invaders were far enough away that 
they could retreat or activate their hollow warriors 
before his heavy war machines could cover the distance. 
The Keldons gathered, and while there was no evidence of a 
clear and organized attack, a lot of gray-skinned warriors 
were leaving their vehicles. The wizard sent a runner back 
to the communications room to convey the information to 
Teferi. Barrin considered the growing ranks of warriors 
and then hurried to the command post.
    Mageta's bunker was heavily reinforced and provided an 
excellent view. Communication runs and trenches converged 
on it. As Barrin ducked inside, he saw Mageta donning 
armor with the help of his aide. The metal seemed to shine 
even in the indirect light, and a golden lion was riveted 
high over the general's heart. Mageta grimaced as an aide 
finished wiping the device.
    "I am supposed to inspire confidence and awe in the 
men," the general said. "As if a fancy set of armor will 
turn the course of the battle."
    "At least the men will be able to pick you out of a 
crowd," Barrin replied diplomatically.
    "I know a better way to capture their attention," 
Mageta said, gripping his sword with a free hand. The 
sword was ordinary and worn, the scabbard of dirty 
leather. "I dug myself out of the grave with this sword, 
and I rallied my men by slaying the enemy. Deeds are what 
the men need to see, not fancy armor."
    Barrin only nodded his head. "A reputation can be a 
weapon more valuable than a sword. It drains the heart of 
your enemies and gives strength to your men. That armor 
may seem foolish now, but after the battle it will be part 
of your persona. It will be expected by your men and 
feared by your foes." A messenger entered the bunker, his 
cheeks flushed from running.
    "The enemy is readying themselves for the attack, 
General," the soldier reported. "The main thrust could 
happen within the hour."
    "Tell the marine squads and their mantises to start 
their attack," Mageta ordered. The soldier and Mageta's 
aide left at a run. Barrin stood to the side as the men 
went by. In only a few minutes the League would execute 
the attack plan that Barrin and the commanders had 
developed. General Mageta lifted a tankard of beer from 
the table and drank deeply, emptying it and then slamming 
it down.
    "I leave the command to you, Barrin," Mageta said as 
he pulled on a helmet and picked up a shield. "I can do 
the most good up in the front works."
    Barrin followed the general outside. The sun was 
shining brightly, and Mageta breathed deeply.
    "Remember that you and the other magicians are the 
final reserve." Mageta glanced back toward the city. The 
magic users were forming a circle on a balcony looking out 
over the battlefield. "Commit them if the army falls. We 
need a victory of arms rather than magic if we ever hope 
to take the battle to the Keldons." He nodded and started 
down through the connecting trenches, calling to the men 
he came across. Barrin was left alone with only a few 
runners waiting to carry additional orders.
    "He must not fall," Barrin said, calling magic to send 
his senses over the coming battlefield. The Keldon camp 
was a pool of naphtha waiting to explode as he tasted the 
quiescent magic driving the alien artifacts. The circle of 
magicians in Arsenal City was a circle of chanting 
children trying to raise power. Finally, the League 
trenches and earthworks appeared-a field of gopher holes 
that Barrin sensed among the scattered war machines. Even 
as his senses tried to focus on Mageta, the attack 
commenced. The League made the first move.
    The marine mantises had been concealed in trenches at 
the front lines. At the prompting of their handlers, each 
lifted out of its hole and walked silently onto the field. 
Less than two hundred of the machines had been constructed 
by the overworked factories. The mantises advanced with a 
few lightly armed marines jogging alongside. They 
approached the enemy without fanfare. The machines and men 
in small groups looked helpless against the opposing army.
    The Keldon barges were in a line surrounded by 
soldiers putting on their armor and stoking braziers as 
the mantises came closer. The warriors emptied smoking 
coals and shaved colos horn into receptacles on their 
armor. A haze of smoke rose, and a light breeze blew the 
fumes toward Arsenal City. Barrin could see the soldiers 
becoming more fearful as the smoke increased. The wizard 
detected a surge of energy as the warriors walked into 
barges and powered war manikins. The Keldons began 
chanting as they prepared to charge, promising death to 
the League soldiers waiting for them. Warriors shouted 
derisively at the few war machines standing before them. 
The mantises raised their arms and lowered their 
hindquarters as if in response. Then with a roar, each 
machine fired a heavy rocket at the Keldon barges.
    A few rockets detonated on launch, and mantises 
exploded, cutting down the surrounding machines and men. 
The first League deaths of the battle were self-inflicted, 
but the remaining rockets arced and fell onto the barges. 
The crafts' heavy protective shells shattered in huge 
sprays of splinters. Secondary explosions bloomed like 
flowers as Heroes' Blood ignited and incinerated barges, 
leaving climbing balls of flames. The League soldiers 
behind the trenches heard the angry moans of the enemy as 
frantic barge crews ran into the remaining vehicles and 
drove them away from burning piles of wreckage. Delayed 
detonations sent huge pieces of machinery flying in all 
directions, killing warriors and shearing through other 
barges. A cheer went up as the mantises turned sharply and 
retreated back to their hiding places. Barrin could see 
marine technical troops digging out new loads of heavy 
rockets for a second wave of bombardment.
    General Mageta stood outside a trench with sword held 
high. His armor caught the eyes of the troops and they 
began chanting "Lion! Lion!" as his golden emblem flashed 
on his chest. The fear that the Keldons inspired was 
momentarily gone, and Barrin counted it a victory. Then he 
felt the swell of magic as the enemy finished animating 
their hollow warriors and charged the League earthworks.
    The mantises were nearly inside the trench lines when 
their heads turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Each 
launched a small rocket, lashing into the ranks of enemy 
soldiers. Manikins and men sundered in sharp explosions. 
The Keldons screamed in rage as the mantises jumped out of 
sight into the trenches.
    The enemy was a sea coming to sweep the League away 
when crabs reared up and fired. Hundreds of them had been 
buried during the night. The machines fired only light 
rockets, but each crab carried six of them. The leading 
ranks of the charge dissolved into gouts of bloody foam as 
the machines fired in a massive coordinated blow. Warriors 
floundered in the remnants of their comrades, and the 
charge stumbled to a stunned halt.
    "Fire!" Mageta called as he rose once more from the 
trenches, holding a launcher. The general discharged a war 
bolt that vanished into the milling crowd of the enemy. 
Barrin couldn't tell if anyone fell, but the infantry in 
the trenches began firing in a sporadic barrage. There was 
a serious shortage of launchers and war-bolts, but the 
fire was a light rain on a pile of sand. The Keldons were 
dissolving away under the attack. Barrin could see the 
League technicians loading the weapons modules of the 
mantises and crabs. For a moment the wizard hoped the 
enemy might break, but then warlords in fantastic armor 
forced their way to stand in front of the Keldon lines. 
Barrin could hear their shouts as they exhorted the 
warriors.
    "Do you think victory and glory are free?" an armored 
giant of a man bellowed. "A great people are known by the 
strength of their enemies! Kill for the glory of Keld! The 
final days are upon us! Kill the thieves, kill them ..."
    Even as they shouted, Mageta was leading men and 
machines from the trenches, gambling on breaking the 
enemies' spirits. Barrin wondered at the boldness, but 
knowing how outnumbered the League forces were, he acted 
to make the blow as strong as possible.
    "Attack the rear!" The call echoed through the aether 
as the wizard drew power and called to the light forces 
beyond the battlefield. Rayne's troop of fast runners and 
ants was out of sight, but he knew that they charged at 
his call.
    The crabs from the trenches slowly advanced. Each few 
yards a fusillade of bolts poured from their weapon bays. 
Some of the supporting infantry knelt and fired launchers 
while the rest advanced with swords and spears jabbing 
into the air for blood. Mageta was just behind a crab 
trotting forward, signaling the advance with every step. 
The Keldons started forward, but they came at the League 
in a string of disorganized driblets instead of the 
unified front that the warlords desired.
    More bolts and rockets flew toward the enemy, but the 
Keldons were implacable now, advancing in a silent rage. 
Mageta halted and dressed his line of men and machines. 
Clumps of spears faced the enemy and formed small arcs of 
soldiers anchored by crabs. The heavy war machines 
launched all their weapons at point-blank range, and then 
the forces met. The soldiers with spears funneled Keldons 
and hollow warriors to the crabs. Massive metal arms rose 
and fell. Manikins and men almost exploded as they died 
under the relentless pounding clubs. The bodies mounded up 
into piles, and the crabs inched back as warriors mounted 
the shattered bodies to continue the attack.
    Now League soldiers were within range of Keldon 
swords, and infantry dropped screaming as gray-skinned 
warriors shattered bones and parted flesh. The soldiers 
carrying launchers drew swords. Mageta shouted and mounted 
the back of a crab, a spear in his hands. He yelled and 
signaled for the League troop to back toward their 
earthworks. The crabs slowly stepped away from their 
mounds of victims and began rebuilding their fleshy 
barricade with new corpses. Mageta was covered in blood 
and poorly balanced on the back of the crab but remained 
there as he directed the withdrawal, needing the extra 
height to be seen. Axes and spears flew toward him, but 
the crab deflected them, smashing them out of the air.
    Barrin raised more power, and his senses flew toward 
the general. He enveloped Mageta in a web of power. The 
wizard could feel crossbow bolts burning to ash as Keldons 
finally began sniping at the general. Mageta threw his 
arms wide in defiance of the enemy, trusting in the magic 
that surrounded him. The League withdrawal slowed as the 
general's actions brought fresh heart to his men. The 
wizard could hear Mageta whispering through the 
surrounding magic.
    "I really hope you can keep this up, Barrin. 
Otherwise, I'm dead."
    More weapons flew past the waving arms of the crab to 
burn up in the wizard's shielding spell, and Barrin drew 
more power, waiting for the Keldon mages to enter the 
fray. Then cheering rose from the retreating troops. 
Hordes of steel ants came swooping from the distant 
flanks, falling upon the enemy.
    "Your wife is coming to save me from myself, Barrin," 
General Mageta said to the wind.
    Rayne and Shalanda on their runners fired groups of 
bolts into the Keldons, tearing at them like rabid dogs. 
Wing blades scissored as they cut apart groups of 
warriors. Steel ants nipped at the enemy, leaving wounded 
who stumbled and crawled through the ranks. Rayne had 
directed the ants around her to wound rather than destroy. 
Barrin had protested the inhumanity of the tactic, but 
Rayne insisted that wounded warriors were more trouble to 
the enemy than dead ones. Additionally, the ants were less 
vulnerable if they didn't linger over their kills. 
Hundreds of voices screamed and tore at the will of the 
Keldons, confirming her tactics.
    "Send the mantises against the Keldon transports," 
Barrin ordered.
    A runner tore his eyes from the battle and ran to 
relay the command. Mageta was holding the line and 
retreating at a crawl that allowed more Keldon warriors to 
reach the crabs. Here and there a machine went down as 
axes and swords sheared legs free, and a crab collapsed. 
One huge Keldon used a crab arm as a giant club, leaving a 
trail of smashed League soldiers dead among the field of 
crushed enemy warriors. Mageta shouted orders and then led 
several swordsmen against the champion. The general dodged 
an overhand strike, and his sword cut the tendons on the 
warrior's arm. The Keldon grabbed Mageta with his free 
arm, and the general battered the warrior's face with 
blows from his helmet until a League soldier cut him free.
    The steel ants still lashed the peripheries of the 
enemy as the Keldon center advanced into oblivion under 
the hammering metal arms of the crabs. Now Barrin saw the 
mantises charging the left wing of the enemy army. The 
colorful machines broke through the thinning lines, their 
long arms slicing through flesh and manikin with equal 
ease. Then the marines and their charges were through with 
the barges only a few hundred yards away. The machines ran 
forward as their handlers ordered them to engage at point-
blank range with their reloaded rockets.
    Then Barrin sensed magic from the Keldon barges like a 
sea of fire burning. Slaves and barge crew rushed out of 
their craft in a panicky mass, and flocks of birds issued 
forth. They circled and rose high over the battlefield 
then fell onto the League forces. As each small body 
smashed into a soldier or machine, it disintegrated in a 
sharp explosion. Barrin could see the center melting away, 
the bludgeoning crabs chewed to pieces by the attack. The 
surrounding infantry died as men fell with sudden ghastly 
wounds. Mageta struck out at a diving bird, and the 
resulting explosion tore at his arm and knocked the 
general to the ground. More bomblets dived from the 
orbiting flock, now striking at the steel ants that had 
feasted on the flanks of the enemy. Shalanda went down as 
her runner was struck, and Rayne attacked the Keldon 
warriors who rushed to kill her aide. The mantises fired 
rockets, but many had already fallen or were crippled, and 
only a few barges exploded.
    More of the tiny bombs launched into the air, and 
Barrin knew that only magic could save the day.
    "Throw fire and lightning!" he called to the magical 
reserves.
    A long stream of power leaped from Barrin up into the 
sky. Explosions rippled through the flock, disrupting its 
structure and sending many of the birds spiraling to the 
ground. The League and the Keldons suffered equally as men 
died and huddled for shelter. From the circle of magic 
behind him, a diffuse cloud of flame moved toward the 
birds. The birds began to detonate as the outskirts of the 
flock flew within the League spell. Barrin sent energy to 
shield the friendly forces, but the battlefield was too 
large. He concentrated on shielding Rayne and Shalanda as 
the rest of the fire-swallows fell out of the sky. Finally 
the rain of death stopped, but the League center was down, 
and Keldons rushed into the defensive works.
    However, Barrin felt rising hope. The warriors and 
manikins moved slower and stumbled even as they tried to 
exploit the breach. Barrin could feel the Keldons stopping 
as some began to fall in exhaustion or even death as their 
fighting machines sucked the last energy from their 
frames. The wizard's heart lifted even more as he saw 
Rayne and Shalanda back up. The scouts and their runners 
had survived, and handlers directed their ants to attack 
once more. The outskirts of the enemy army could only beat 
weakly at the small machines as war manikins stopped in 
mid-swing and warriors collapsed.
    "We need to reinforce the center!" Barrin ordered. 
"Everyone will advance and engage the enemy." Runners ran 
to order technicians, cooks, and quartermasters to charge 
the enemy. Barrin walked forward, raising power as he 
prepared to sluice the trenches clean of invading 
warriors.
    Then he was stunned by a surge of new magical energy 
from Arsenal City. The magic users had not recognized the 
Keldons' weakness. Magic that Barrin hoped to direct 
against the enemy was instead expended in a wordless 
ringing call. His senses seared by the wave, it took him 
precious seconds to regain his equilibrium. During that 
time, Teferi appeared on the battlefield.
    The planeswalker jumped into the defensive works, and 
Barrin could hear him calling. Teferi's magic touched him, 
but only Barrin's momentary injury communicated itself to 
the planeswalker. Surrounded by enemy warriors and dead 
League soldiers, Teferi cast a mighty spell.
    Energy rippled out in a huge wave through the ground. 
Even those with almost no magical talent could feel the 
surge. The ground began to liquefy, flowing into the 
trenches and burying Keldon warriors and the League dead. 
Out on the battlefield, huge sinkholes appeared and sucked 
down the enemy corpses. The land barges tossed and bucked 
as the land danced under them. The Keldons retreated in 
confusion and fear as the ground itself showed allegiance 
to the League. The soldiers who had been around the crabs 
climbed to their feet and reformed as the retreating enemy 
flowed back to the barges. The center was saved, but the 
effects of Teferi's spell continued to spread as Barrin 
watched.
    Steel ants bogged down as thousands of small pits 
opened up. Marine mantises almost in firing range of the 
Keldon barges were shoulder deep in the ground, their arms 
tearing furrows as they tried to slash themselves free. 
More Keldons retreated, struggling through the mud holes 
appearing everywhere. Barrin could see the land barges 
advancing into the muck as Teferi's attack waned. The huge 
craft moved slowly but were able to reach the core of 
their army.
    Mageta was up but nearly unrecognizable. "Cowards!" he 
yelled and struggled forward. Covered in mud and blood, 
only the device on the general's helmet identified him. He 
slogged a few steps, his injured arm hanging limply at his 
side, before falling down once more as he passed out.

                          * * * * *

    "We survived. That's the most important thing," Rayne 
whispered into Barrin's ear as the couple clasped each 
other tightly. Rayne's runner had finally battled its way 
through the uncertain ground and the dead as the wizard 
struggled through the earthworks to find her.
    "It was a chance to destroy the Keldon forces, and now 
they've withdrawn." Barrin looked east in anger. "Our 
first chance to crush the enemy on land, and we missed 
it."
    Teferi and the support troops were bringing the 
wounded and the war machines into the city. Here and there 
a Keldon warrior was found alive, and troops converged to 
capture them.
    Rayne only nodded noncommittally. She stepped past him 
and knelt to inspect a fire-swallow. It had started life 
as a bird but at some point was transformed into a weapon. 
The eyes were stitched shut, and the feathers were glossy 
with some sort of coating. Barrin sniffed the air and 
could smell the refined tufa liquid draining and soaking 
into the dirt.
    "Those were an unpleasant surprise," Barrin said as he 
looked at it. "The battle was in our favor before they 
launched."
    Someone clearing her throat interrupted the couple. 
Shalanda stood thick with mud. She had been inspecting the 
battlefield and the casualties. She had just come from 
healing some of the wounded, and she breathed heavily as 
she recharged her strength to try again.
    "Seventy percent of the wounded should be ready for 
duty in two weeks, Barrin. But we might have a problem. 
That flu has cropped up again among some of the wounded 
and the personnel helping clear the battlefield. It may be 
a few weeks before the illness burns itself out," she 
declared. "That's fine," Barrin replied. "It will be a few 
months before we can concentrate enough forces to march 
east." He straightened, and his lips thinned. "I think 
we've turned a corner in this war. From now on, we take 
the fight to the enemy."
    
                        Chapter 17

    Haddad woke at sea, his lungs burning as he breathed 
smoke from the censer swinging above his head. He thrashed 
and threw his hands over the sides of the stasis box. 
Haddad moaned in pain as his muscles shook with tremors 
and cramps. The crash of waves could be clearly heard in 
the hold as the former League officer gripped his head and 
coughed up the dust from his lungs.
    Lanterns swung from beams, and he tried to orient 
himself by their light. Latulla and her entire party had 
been interred in stasis boxes within minutes of the 
artificer's defeat. Slowly the party was being revived. 
They must be at or near Jamuraa.
    Iola knelt beside a stasis box, and Haddad could see 
Latulla's features in the changing light. She awoke almost 
gently, her eyes opening and the look of confusion fading 
in seconds. Haddad felt a surge of envy and wondered how 
Iola had spared Latulla pain.
    "We are just outside the colony, mistress," Iola said. 
"The council has exiled you here for life." She paused, 
and Haddad could hear the despair in her voice as she 
continued. "All your holdings are forfeit, and your 
retainers were expelled with you." Haddad remembered 
Iola's pride in managing Latulla's house and felt a little 
pity.
    "Why were we awakened at sea?" Latulla demanded as she 
levered herself up from the erstwhile coffin. No word or 
expression showed awareness of her servants' loss. "We 
should have been awakened after we safely docked."
    Latulla was in full regalia, and she tested the 
strength of her cane with a few sharp blows against the 
stasis boxes of her servants. She ignored the groans that 
issued as the human slaves clawed their way to 
consciousness. One slave uttered a curse, and Latulla 
tested her cane on flesh.
    "The League has attacked ships near the port," Iola 
answered, wringing her hands in worry. "The captain 
thought all passengers should be awake in case the ship 
was hit."
    Even though Haddad was in immediate danger, he felt a 
tremendous surge of hope at the news. The League was 
finally operating around the colony. Not only was his 
nation fighting back, but also escape might be easier with 
local forces in the area.
    "Everyone up on deck," Latulla ordered as she strode 
to the stair and forced her way up into the wind. The 
others followed her, still staggering as they recovered 
from stasis, but weakness was no excuse in Latulla's 
service.
    It was midday and the sun sent rays down through the 
clouds. Haddad wondered why the sea was so rough. Then he 
turned from viewing the coast and looked seaward. The 
clouds of a storm were piled high and dark. The captain 
nervously considered the storm as the ship sailed closer 
to the protected bay.
    "Captain, what's the problem?" Latulla demanded. The 
captain was a massive Keldon with a peg leg, which he 
pivoted on when Latulla spoke.
    "We had word from a warship that the League is trying 
to sink ships in port and block access to the piers," he 
explained. "I am waiting for an armed escort vessel to 
follow us in."
    "I will provide all the cover you need," Latulla said. 
She rapped the captain smartly on his wooden leg. "Take 
the ship in, and I will watch for League patrols."
    The captain opened his mouth to argue but decided to 
keep silent at Latulla's angry look. Haddad saw that the 
artificer wanted to show her strength after her defeat at 
Gorsha's hands.
    "Take her in," the captain ordered the helmsman. The 
sailor swallowed nervously and turned the ship's wheel to 
take them into the channel. Latulla sent Iola down into 
the hold to inventory what the council had allowed the 
artificer to bring with her. Haddad looked at the 
approaching coastline.
    How long had it been since he saw Jamuraa? He couldn't 
know. He didn't even know if this was the first time he 
was awake. Keld had made him doubt himself on many levels. 
He looked at the shore and wondered if he could ever go 
home again.
    The ship was inside the channel and moving into 
protected waters. The storm that loomed behind began to 
break up as the ship pulled closer to the dock. Latulla 
and all her supporters were back on deck, arranging 
themselves in lines and trying to appear impressive. 
Latulla sent crewmen and slaves from their regular duty 
stations into the ship's cargo areas to find additional 
clothes and weapons.
    The ship was docking, and Haddad could feel the tone 
of the propulsion spells changing as they moved the ship 
closer to the pier. A crowd was gathered, and freight 
handlers stood ready to empty the ship at a moment's 
notice. As the ship was tied off, Latulla walked to the 
gangplank.
    "I have returned to you with news that Keld is no 
more!" she shouted. There was a general air of confusion 
among the crowd and the ship's complement. "Keld has given 
up and rejected the prophecy that you have all accepted-
that this land is the home of heroes and must be reclaimed 
from the weak and corrupt League to the west."
    A few Keldons began cheering because they did believe 
that their birthright was being stolen. Other warriors and 
some slaves cheered because glory required a great cause. 
The rest cheered as Haddad cheered, because it was 
expected of them.
    Haddad considered the Keldon exiles as Latulla 
continued her exhortations. "You are Keld! All that Keld 
has been. The defeat of our enemies, the conquest of new 
lands, the construction of the future! You are the 
children of all who have gone before. It is time to pick 
up the prize left by the Heroes from whom we sprang!"
    Haddad's eyes locked on a familiar figure. It was 
Greel, Erissa's demonic assistant. Latulla had brought 
more than rhetoric from the land of her ancestors. How 
long would it take this cancer to grow in a new land? 
Haddad promised himself that his first act upon escaping 
would be to reveal Greel's nature. The children of Jamuraa 
would not lie in graves to feed the monster's appetite.
    "I bring you the future," Latulla said, spreading her 
arms wide. Haddad turned from the scene and considered the 
sea. Then he saw the nose of a blimp poke itself out of 
the stormy clouds that hung offshore.
    For a few seconds he was alone as the others 
concentrated on Latulla and her speech. It was not until 
the bombs fell that shouts drowned out Latulla's voice. 
The blimp was huge, and it withdrew back into the clouds 
as each bomb sprouted wings. The weapons' trajectories 
flattened, and their velocity increased. Shouts sounded as 
almost every slave ran for cover, with a few curling up on 
the ground and trying to shut out the world. Haddad saw 
them trampled by the running crowd, their flesh torn by 
shoes and boots. Warriors drew weapons and shouted 
challenges, but the airship was gone, and only the bombs 
remained to hear the futile cries. The weapons neared the 
water and came straight at the ship.
    "Why aren't the fire barges shooting?" shouted a 
warrior who had accompanied Latulla into exile. The bombs 
skimmed over the ships and detonated among the dockside 
warehouses. Splinters and fiery debris rained down 
everywhere. Chunks of wreckage draped across the rigging 
over Haddad's head, and he joined a rush to clear the 
ship. Latulla was almost trampled in the stampede, and 
Haddad hid a smile as he swirled past her livid face. The 
ropes began to burn, and sections of the dock were covered 
in flame. Weapons stored in the warehouses shattered and 
released waves of flammable liquid. Haddad could hear the 
collapse of burning floors and the hiss as timbers dropped 
among the dock pilings and extinguished in the sea. The 
captured League soldier flattened against the side of a 
building as more people rushed past him. He could see 
Latulla running up the gangplank to fight the fire on the 
ship. Her hands moved, and the flames shrank back like a 
frightened pet.
    She waved for the crowds to return even as she calmed 
the fire. Now magic users from the colony were running up 
to the docks, and the destruction Haddad had cheered began 
to be controlled. Slowly the fires flickered out. The 
warriors began to chant Latulla's name, and she directed 
the final efforts of the impromptu fire brigades. The 
League had interrupted Latulla's speech, but she rallied 
the colony to her cause because of it.

                          * * * * *

    It was nearing dark when Latulla and the rest of the 
household straggled to their quarters. The fires destroyed 
one warehouse completely, though all ships were saved. 
Lord Urit sat within the house, and Latulla moved to 
confront him. Haddad stayed in the outer room and looked 
through the door.
    The curtains were drawn and the lights low as 
defensive measures against air attacks. Latulla appeared 
incensed that the League would dare attack the colony.
    "Where were the fire casters and magic users? Why were 
we left so exposed?" she demanded.
    Lord Urit answered her. The former swamp overseer was 
in charge of the colony slaves and had become an important 
figure.
    "The western expedition did not go as planned. We had 
to retreat," Urit confessed shamefacedly, and Latulla 
reined in her temper with visible difficulty.
    "A temporary state of affairs. We will rebuild and 
crush them like we have always done." She spoke 
confidently.
    Urit shook his head. "Their armies do not wait for the 
blow. Now they seek to fight." He looked up and seemed to 
stare through the roof. "Their airships range over the 
west looking for detachments to kill. Almost all fire 
barges are protecting the armies and our new holdings. In 
fact, their airships seek battle relentlessly with any 
barge they can find."
    "They may be using their blimps, but we can destroy 
their bases as we did before," Latulla said. "There will 
be more forces arriving from Keld regardless of what the 
fools on the council believe."
    "We can barely keep our forward bases intact while new 
classes of airships drop bombs on our home ground. We will 
have to recall forces and concentrate our warriors," Urit 
insisted.
    "I will hear from you later, Urit," Latulla commanded. 
"Leave me now, so I might rest."
    Urit said nothing but bowed and withdrew, his face 
stony at his dismissal. Haddad kept still as the major 
domo, Briach, bowed and entered. The chief slave appeared 
calm and content as he waited to hear Latulla.
    "What has happened here, Briach?" Latulla asked.
    "The first expeditions went well, and many slaves were 
taken for the glory of Keld. There are shiploads winding 
their way to cradle houses in the north. Cities fell, and 
the artificers control mines and refineries for the 
Heroes' Blood. Huge stores await only shipment back home 
to build you an army," Briach explained.
    Latulla smashed his hand with her cane. "This is home 
now. Keld would not have me, and now they will live with 
their decision. Suspend all shipments north until further 
notice. Start construction of factories and a cradle 
house. The midwives and female slaves are to report to me 
from now on."
    Briach whitened at the blow but remained still as 
Latulla stood and began to pace.
    "What happened to the second expedition?" Latulla 
questioned.
    Haddad saw Briach consider his words carefully. 
Latulla collaborated with the military commanders before 
leaving and would not brook even implied criticism from a 
slave, however favored he might be.
    "The attack, from all reports, went well, but the 
League machines proved more lethal than previously 
believed. Their weapons were heavier, and our war manikins 
could not overwhelm them. But the battle was still in our 
favor until the planeswalker appeared on the field and 
unleashed a great spell. He turned the ground of the 
ancestors against their descendants."
    "How many died under Teferi's hand?" demanded Latulla.
    "Almost none, but the warriors had powered the hollow 
warriors a long time, and many fell from exhaustion," 
Briach answered. "The leaders called for retreat."
    "So they were not defeated-they gave up!" Latulla said 
angrily. "At the heart of enemy war production they 
retired because they couldn't beat the League with the 
first blows." Latulla threw herself back into her chair 
and drummed her fingers on the side table.
    "How do the warriors feel about their loss?" Latulla 
spoke slowly as she considered her plans.
    "Many of them cannot accept that they did lose," 
Briach said. "The sailors have lost to the League before, 
but the army has not suffered a serious setback since it 
landed. Many of the warriors are angry, striking out at 
slaves and each other. The number of fights between 
warriors has soared despite the best efforts of the war 
leaders to curb dominance battles."
    Latulla nodded to herself in satisfaction. "Of course 
they're angry. They should be enraged. The leaders 
betrayed them by withdrawing from the field too soon. Had 
the army stayed, they would have conquered the enemy," she 
said intently. "We must act quickly to isolate those who 
would lead us to defeat."
    Briach nodded but with some confusion. "Mistress, I am 
sure that you know best, but I do not know how you can 
displace the war leaders," Briach stated.
    Latulla only threw her cane at his head for daring to 
question her decisions.
    "Of course I can't take direct control of the army, 
but there are always subordinates whose ambitions can be 
fired and directed to my benefit. Other voices will say 
the commands in battle, but the orders will be mine. Call 
my supporters to me when dawn comes."
    Latulla went to her bed, and Haddad crept away as 
well. The artificer had been expelled from Keld in 
disgrace. Awake for one day, she was already setting up a 
personal empire.
    Haddad shook his head in reluctant admiration and went 
to his room. There he dreamed of a kingdom of puppets with 
Latulla pulling the strings. He sank into a deeper sleep 
as he appeared in the dream-a marionette dancing to 
Latulla's commands.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad carried another set of invitations to captains 
of barge crews and commanders of small companies. Latulla 
had thrown parties and private dinners all week. She was 
still imperious and cold, but many of the lesser war 
leaders received assurances of support for their 
ambitions. Latulla cast her net wide, and Haddad hit every 
section of the camp. But he was not her only emissary, and 
he shuddered as Greel stepped from a tent ahead of him. 
The monster was smiling and laughing as he left a group of 
drunken comrades.
    "Haddad!" he called and walked over. The League 
technician wanted to run but could not. Haddad felt a cold 
sweat as he realized that Greel called him by name.
    "What are you holding, slave?" Greel asked. He smiled 
broadly at Haddad, and that alone signaled he was not a 
Keldon.
    "Invitations to another of Latulla's dinners, master." 
Perhaps if he was obsequious enough, Greel would be bored 
and go away.
    "Let me see those." Greel reached and took the 
envelopes from Haddad's fingers. He flipped through them 
quickly. Many of the passersby looked at Greel. A Keldon 
male appearing to read was unusual. Haddad usually read 
the message aloud or handed it to a literate slave when he 
found the addressee.
    "Many of these are my friends," Greel slurred. "I will 
deliver them if I see them." Greel appeared drunk, but 
Haddad knew it was an act. Failure to deliver the 
invitations would mean a severe beating for Haddad.
    "I would not have expected you to find friends so 
soon," Haddad said as he reached for the invitations. It 
was broad daylight, and Haddad was growing tired of fear. 
Greel gave back the invitations but still smiled.
    "I have many friends, old and new, in this land." He 
tapped the bronze armband concealed under Haddad's 
clothes. "You could be my friend since you bear this."
    Haddad could not stop from shying away. Greel's face 
lost its pleasant expression, twisting into a snarl. It 
almost seemed to glow, and for a moment Haddad thought 
Greel's true form would burst forth. The fiery light 
sprang not from inside the monster but from streams of 
fireballs rising into the sky. Haddad and Greel looked 
toward the heavens and saw the Keldon weapons converging 
on an apparently empty space. Then sheets of flame 
outlined a camouflaged blimp and its defensive fields. 
Haddad wondered if more than color hid it as his eyes 
refused to lock on. Suddenly a rack of bombs rained down, 
and the blimp disappeared. The launchers shot at the 
falling weapons, and one exploded in a green disk of fire 
that enveloped the other bombs. The weapons did not 
fratricide but instead diverged wildly, corkscrewing 
through the air.
    Haddad was rooted to the spot as Greel gripped his arm 
tightly. The familiar's hand did not even tremor as Haddad 
tried to pull free. Explosions sounded throughout the 
camp, but Haddad saw only one. The flash was brilliant 
white, and the League technician was hurled to the ground 
as Greel keened in pain. Haddad's eyes cleared, and he saw 
that the bomb had hurled ropes of fire. The material clung 
to everything as it burned. Slaves near one building 
dumped water on a strand stuck to an exterior wall. The 
water just drained away, and the slaves tried desperately 
to scrape the fire off as the wood burned fiercely.
    Greel crouched in gasping agony. Haddad could see 
channels of burnt flesh across his chest and neck. The 
skin bubbled as Greel knelt, oblivious to the world. 
Haddad ran as magic users closed to extinguish the fires. 
In the sky, the blimp had vanished, though fire-streamers 
still shot into the air searching for the craft. After a 
few more seconds the fire barges stopped, the fires 
extinguished as the might of the Keldon mages turned to 
ending the fires.
    Greel rose to his feet as a group of slaves came to 
help him. His features were burned away, and bone showed 
through the charred meat. One of the slaves vomited at the 
sight. The monster's fists crushed skulls and caved in 
chests as he tore through the crowd around him. He ran 
toward the edge of the colony, pulling a screaming slave 
behind him like a child's rag doll. Haddad hoped that a 
mage would burn Greel down before he could feed, but he 
doubted the monster would be caught. Haddad hurried to 
deliver the last of the letters, hoping that he could 
escape soon.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad shifted at the back of the crowd. Latulla had 
been closeted with her circle all night, and Haddad was 
dismissed before he could learn much of their plans. He 
did know that Greel was an instrumental part of those 
plans, and that was reason enough for worry. A platform 
had been raised in the field with the stock pens in the 
background. Latulla chose the spot because it was the 
largest open space, but Haddad smiled slightly as the 
morning breeze wafted over the crowd. Latulla's words 
would smell like manure to the listening masses.
    There was a stir as the artificer came into view. The 
stage was low and there was no bunting or color. Latulla 
did not warm up the crowd as Haddad half-expected. Instead 
she launched directly into the heart of her speech.
    "You have lost everything!" she screamed to the crowd. 
Mutters rose as they absorbed her words. "You left Keld 
and the battles of the north. Many of you were shipped in 
stasis, powerless to affect your destiny. There are no 
cradle houses in this land, the slaves are arrogant, and 
there is the tedium and trouble of working without female 
partners. Why would anyone come here?" Latulla paused and 
looked at the crowd.
    "Because there is a land to conquer!" she shouted, and 
her supporters cheered her with a few of the crowd joining 
in. "These lands were the home of your forebears. Heroes 
and gods roamed these hills and contested with each other. 
But an evil force swept over the land, killing and slaying 
in the dark of night. The widows and babes of your 
ancestors fled north to escape destruction."
    Latulla lifted her hands, as if in benediction, over 
the crowd. "But you have grown strong and have come to 
take your birthright back. You have arrived in the land 
from which Keld sprang and found what?
    "You have found a race of weaklings who hold what is 
yours." She whipped a cover off something on the stage. A 
steel ant lay revealed. "A race so cowardly that it 
constructs a machine to fight while its soldiers stay 
behind." She pointed up into the sky. "A race that attacks 
your camps from the air for fear of your strength."
    Finally she whipped the last tarp off the stage. Five 
dead Keldons lay revealed, none with an obvious wound. "An 
enemy who, when he failed to kill you, has resorted to the 
spread of corruption and disease." Haddad had heard of 
some dying from illness but found it unsurprising in a 
camp of this size. "The League has shown by its every 
action that it is the successor of the evil that battled 
our forebears. Will you let them win again, or will you 
break the world and remake it in your image?" Cheers 
erupted again, and Latulla seemed to swell as they rolled 
over her.
    "The final days are upon us, and the final battle 
awaits in the west. Who will follow me into glory and 
victory?" Even Haddad cheered and chanted her name-not 
because he wanted the Keldons to win, but because this 
expedition west might constitute his last chance to 
escape. He cheered the fulfillment of his own plans and 
cursed the Keldons silently.

                          * * * * *

    "Pig slop!" Alexi exclaimed as the deck surged up, a 
gust of wind grappling with the blimp. "Keep it steady!" 
she yelled up the cabin to the pilot. A muttered obscenity 
wafted back, but she ignored it as she tried to keep her 
stomach under control. When would this ride be over? she 
wondered silently.
    The Hunter and the Eagle were hovering beside a storm. 
The two Mushan blimps had spent three days tossed by winds 
as Teferi worked the storm. Jumping from ship to ship, he 
herded it toward the coast even as he wove his spells into 
its structure. The planeswalker was ready to expunge the 
Keldon colony from Jamuraa, and now his moment neared. Far 
out to sea, a fleet of surface warships waited to land 
marines and supplies, but Teferi had put the attack on 
hold. Through magic he observed a huge exodus of the 
colony's warriors and fire barges the day before.
    The surge of power as Teferi appeared in the cabin 
surprised Alexi. The planeswalker dripped water from his 
sodden clothes onto the deck, and a puff of ozone and 
magic assaulted Alexi's nose. Teferi worked inside the 
storm now. "Signal the fleet to start coming in," he 
ordered in a tired voice. "I am going to force the storm 
onshore. The marines should be able to make an unopposed 
landing. You will report any problems to the fleet." He 
looked exhausted.
    Alexi spoke quietly. "Can't you stay aboard and rest 
just a little?" she asked. "At least direct the storm from 
here instead of jumping into its winds."
    Teferi shook his head. "It's already starting to tear 
apart," he explained. "We need to act now. Call the fleet 
in, and be prepared for communications interference from 
now on. In a few minutes I will start a series of spells 
on the other blimp to smother Keldon calls for help. The 
enemy reinforcements marching west can't be allowed to 
know what has happened. I must go." Teferi closed his eyes 
and jumped. Alexi spun and stared angrily at the 
communications mage.
    "You heard him," she said. "Call in the fleet now 
while we still have the opportunity." The man dropped into 
a trance as Alexi moved forward toward the pilot. "We will 
be moving inland with the storm." The pilot looked at the 
edge of the turbulent cloud and then his hands flashed to 
his throttles and rammed them forward. Teferi had begun.
    The air seemed rough to Alexi, but seeing the torn 
mists and rain swirling inside Teferi's attack she knew 
that the Hunter flew in relative calm. The clouds seemed 
to draw away.
    "Faster!" she ordered.
    "We're the same distance away," the pilot said 
irritably. "The storm's getting smaller."
    Alexi could see it now. The clouds were drawing near 
to the coast, and they grew even blacker. Like a hunkered 
giant, the storm crept into the bay. The clouds dropped 
lower and lower, touching the water. The high winds tore 
into the violent seas, and water began to pile up. The 
waves mounted higher and higher. Huge black-green hills of 
water raced from the storm to the docks. The bay narrowed, 
concentrating the attack.
    The first wave hit. All small boats turned to 
kindling, the planks and oars flung up onto the docks as 
the larger ships surged up against the pier. The second 
set of waves arrived. The large ships listed heavily as 
the sea gripped and turned them. Masts hammered down on a 
warehouse as ships rolled nearly ninety degrees. Most 
ships capsized. Looking through a set of magical lenses, 
Alexi saw a few sailors flung from the wreckage to break 
against the pier pilings. The storm seemed to submerge as 
another giant wave raced forth. Fire rose over the bay as 
Keldon mages realized it was a magical attack, but their 
spells were matches flung into a stream as water raced 
toward docks.
    In the colony, Alexi could see figures boiling out of 
houses and tents. Some went for higher ground as a wave 
over thirty feet tall hit the piers. Warehouses were 
shoved off their foundations and struck houses and 
workshops like battering rams. More and more people ran 
inland as Teferi began to push the storm toward the colony 
once more. It crept up the bay, sending a constant stream 
of fifteen-foot waves forward. Each wall of water picked 
up debris and threw it farther from the sea. Houses were 
bludgeoned by water and fragments of wood as the water 
level rose higher and higher. Like a cupped hand, Teferi's 
spell tried to empty the bay onto the town, and 
destruction mounted with every passing moment.
    The waves crashed far from the bay as the stables and 
corrals were destroyed. Here and there barges raced for 
cover. Now water surrounded one and rose a few inches per 
second. The barge began to lose traction as it floated. 
Men swarmed over it. More and more crowded aboard, and 
Alexi could see swords hewing into slaves and warriors as 
the crew tried to preserve their craft. It was a hopeless 
battle and under the mass of screaming humanity, the barge 
capsized as it lost all traction.
    No structure still stood in the town, and Teferi's 
spell dissipated as the last of it submerged in the muddy 
water. Deprived of the storm surge, water cascaded back 
toward the bay. Like a draining bathtub, the water left a 
thick coating of mud as it withdrew. Corpses and debris 
mixed with mud appeared as the land drained. A few living 
men struggled to stand, the water abandoning them in its 
race back to the sea. Alexi could see hundreds of corpses 
and wondered if anyone could know how many had died in the 
previous minutes. Teferi appeared in the cabin. His eyes 
looked tired.
    "Tell the fleet to land outside of the bay," he 
croaked. "They'll never be able to get through the mess 
down there. Warn them that there are still warriors inland 
who may attack as messengers reach them with news of this 
disaster."
    "Surely you can relay that information faster than we 
can," Alexi said.
    "No!" Teferi exclaimed and shook his head. "I must 
remain here. I destroyed the warriors and barges stationed 
here, but I killed the slaves as well." Deep tremors began 
to shake his frame. "I have to stay here and begin rescue 
operations. I will scout for survivors and work with the 
marines when they land." He sounded lost and despairing.
    "We'll stay and help you, Teferi," Alexi offered.
    "I have killed thousands today," Teferi whispered. "If 
it is to mean anything this war must end soon. You will 
fly west and tell Barrin what has happened here. I will 
maintain the communications interference so the Keldon 
armies in the west know nothing of this. Destroy them, 
Alexi. Kill them and end this war." Teferi jumped without 
warning, leaving Alexi to carry word of the massacre to 
the League.
    
                        Chapter 18

    The League army marched east, kicking up dust as men 
and war machines pursued the Keldons fleeing toward their 
home territories. Barrin and General Mageta rode on 
runners side by side as they went from column to column. 
The armies and war machines of the western League cities 
had finally arrived. With news of Teferi's victory, Barrin 
knew the Keldon cause was finished. The only question now 
was how much damage they would do before the army was 
destroyed. The Keldons were massing in the interior, and 
if he hoped to defeat them in detail he must catch them 
soon. "Rayne," Barrin called as he saw his wife leaving 
the lines on her runner. "Where are you going?"
    Rayne looked calm as Barrin and Mageta moved closer. 
The general sat stiffly on his runner, his wounds still 
bothering him despite repeated sessions with Shalanda.
    "There are reports from the forward scouts of dead and 
dying wildlife around the water holes," Rayne replied. 
"Shalanda is investigating, and I'm hauling some more 
equipment out to her." She patted bulging saddlebags on 
the back of her machine.
    "Damn," Mageta said. "We'll never catch the enemy if 
we have to divert to find good water."
    Barrin shook his head in agreement. Though the war 
machines did not require water, the marching soldiers did. 
More importantly, so did the draft animals hauling the 
supply wagons. The attack on watering holes was an 
unexpected tactic from the Keldons. Barrin hadn't expected 
them to use the land against the League.
    A set of scouts came in from patrol. Blood leaked down 
from the gaskets and spotted the mechanical legs. The 
blades that swung out from the sides cleaned and sharpened 
themselves whenever they retracted.
    "Run into the Keldons?" Mageta demanded before they 
could make a report.
    "No, sir," their leader replied. "Just groups of 
highly aggressive parea. We have orders to kill them 
before they come close to the column." He spoke matter-of-
factly about the "tigers of the plains."
    "I know supplies are tight, but I believe that the 
army can afford you shooting them from a distance," Barrin 
said with gallows humor. The scouts laughed.
    "Soon we will have proper targets," Mageta said. He 
massaged his arm and looked east.

                          * * * * *

    Haddad sat at the side of the barge and watched the 
miles roll past. After all the dreams and plans for 
escape, he was finally going toward his homeland. 
Latulla's speech gave her the support to demand an 
immediate attack. Messengers had set a rendezvous point 
with the Keldon troops pulling back from the League 
advance. Latulla and Greel drafted several of the 
remaining land barges and loaded crates of cargo on each. 
The boxes were doubly sealed with both Latulla and 
Erissa's sigils. Haddad wondered what deviltry waited to 
be used against the League. He was supposedly part of a 
ballista crew, but in reality he was focused on when to 
abandon the barge.
    A small scouting barge came alongside at high speed. 
The Keldon cavalry had been bled dry by counter raiders 
along the League border, and only the small barges were 
available to make up the lack.
    "The League is advancing on the rendezvous point! At 
the current speed, they will engage our forward elements 
at least an hour before you and the main body arrive!" the 
captain of the barge shouted. Latulla glared as if he were 
personally responsible for the bad news.
    "Signal all barges to advance at maximum speed," she 
commanded. The pilot on their barge relayed the order. The 
craft seemed to lower as the speed rose. Haddad could hear 
significantly more noise from the legs of craft, and the 
joints seemed to hum under the higher power load.
    "Artificer, this power demand will exhaust the 
reservoirs in short order," the pilot said, and then he 
pointed at two barge slaves. "See them draining and 
refilling the reservoirs around the seals? Many of the 
craft are not carrying enough refined Heroes' Blood."
    Haddad snorted. Heroes' Blood indeed. Whatever the 
source of tufa, he doubted it sprang from the veins of 
Keldons.
    "Blood is blood, and with Greel's aid I can supplement 
the power for the craft." Latulla was matter-of-fact, but 
Haddad swore that her eyes rested on him. He began 
watching more carefully for a place to disembark.
    The scouting barge thrust a batch of dispatches at the 
end of a long pole to Latulla's vessel, then it 
accelerated to the supposed military commander's craft. 
The fact that it stopped to inform Latulla first and 
obeyed the orders for high speed showed where the true 
power in the army lay.
    Latulla was reviewing the dispatches and paused as she 
came across one particular report.
    "The scouts have spotted numerous dead animals, 
particularly around waterholes." She thought for a moment 
and then chuckled. "They really are trying to use poison 
and disease."
    Greel overheard her. "That would explain the deaths we 
have been enduring in the camp. If the League is using 
such methods, then it must be much weaker than you 
supposed." Greel sounded earnest even to Haddad's 
suspicious ears.
    "If that is true, then their attack will be hollow." 
Latulla grabbed a slave from the crew and turned back 
toward Greel. "We will need to increase speed. I know you 
helped Erissa in her experiments. Do you know any way we 
can use this to increase speed?"
    Haddad could see Greel's customary smile broaden. "I 
am sure that we'll think of something."
    Within minutes the barges were going faster, but the 
League technician was appalled at the cost.
    "More power," Latulla moaned, and her hands were 
palsied as she reached for another unwilling slave. The 
next victim moaned in fright, but made no other movement 
as Greel pushed him into Latulla's grasp. He hugged them 
both, and the air seemed colder as the slave sprawled down 
comatose, barely breathing. There were more slaves waiting 
their turn, and Haddad edged slightly closer to the side 
with each falling body.
    Latulla had stopped briefly and taken on as many 
slaves as possible in a window of a few minutes. The other 
Keldon magic users now drew on her power to enhance land 
barge performance. Like the war manikin spell, it drained 
away the strength of the caster to power the machine-the 
difference being that a warrior in combat could power a 
group of manikins for tens of minutes, and already this 
spell was leaving a trail of bodies.
    Greel assisted Latulla with the ritual, holding down 
the slaves as Latulla sucked the life out of them. Haddad 
saw that each death seemed to increase Greel's energy, and 
the technician knew the monster was feasting on lives once 
more.
    Latulla shook, and another flare of energy was sent 
out to the fleet. The artificer became aware once more and 
laughed.
    "So much easier than calling the power on your own," 
she said. "You must show me how to initiate the sacrifice 
without you, Greel. There is a corner of the ceremony that 
I can't quite see."
    Greel was frowning with disappointment. He had another 
slave held in his arms in preparation for continuing the 
ceremony. He quickly schooled his face and put the slave 
back in the line of waiting victims. He did it with the 
care of a glutton saving a favorite snack for later.
    Haddad was thumped on the head and spun wildly. 
Another scouting barge had drawn alongside, and the poled 
sack of dispatches had hit him. He grabbed the sack and 
felt great satisfaction as the warrior at the other end of 
the pole almost fell.
    Latulla grabbed the messages with only a blow to 
acknowledge Haddad's aid. She searched through it 
hurriedly, reading each quickly before throwing it aside. 
Slaves gathered them up with startled lunges as some 
started to float overboard.
    "Blimps have been sighted far ahead," she said 
worriedly. Despite Latulla's contempt for the League, the 
attacks on the colony had given her a healthy respect for 
League airships. "Command all magic users to start a 
deceptive haze." Servants quickly broke out chips for the 
brazier, racing each other to show they were more than 
fuel. Latulla looked at Greel. "Perhaps someday we can 
learn to use that spell for other things. For now, smoke 
is needed to hide us until we can engage the enemy. They 
won't drop bombs if they can't see us." Greel laughed as 
Latulla talked of deception. Smoke began to billow, and 
Haddad could see less and less as the haze thickened.

                          * * * * *

    "Where are they?" Barrin hissed in frustration. The 
scouts could not tell him the position of the second 
column. They must be only minutes away, but the 
reinforcements had temporarily disappeared. He and Mageta 
exchanged glances.
    "It's time," they both said.
    Mageta called for battle preparations, and the men and 
machines began to line up. There was a rolling series of 
crashes as supplies were cut free from the crabs' backs, 
and boxes of reloads for weapons were smashed open. Ants 
and mantises formed into fighting blocks, and the fast 
runners and scout ants circled nervously in their loose 
formations.
    "Communicator," Barrin called, as he dismounted and 
walked quickly to the mage set up in a wagon. "Get me 
Alexi immediately." The officer didn't salute but fell 
immediately to work.
    Soon Alexi's voice sounded. "Is there finally a target 
to hit?"
    Barrin could hear the frustration Alexi battled all 
day as she waited for the enemy.
    "Yes there is," he responded sharply. "The group that 
we've been chasing. I want you to unload half of your 
bombs on their column immediately. We've lost the other 
group, and we can't afford to have them link up. Smash 
them, and keep your eyes open for the incoming column."
    "You've finally made me a happy woman, Barrin." Alexi 
left to commence the attack, and Barrin could see the 
blimps turning as they prepared to drop the new weapons.
    Rayne rode up to Barrin. Her launcher was loaded and 
ready, and her flushed face momentarily entranced Barrin.
    "What news of the enemy?" she demanded, eager to start 
the fight and perhaps finish the war. Barrin merely held 
his finger to his lips and then pointed to the blimps in 
advance of the League army.
    There were nearly sixty blimps at high altitude. They 
had been silently following for so long that most of the 
army had forgotten they were there. Kashan and Mushan 
blimps floated lightly in the air accompanied by a huge 
dark airship. The Storm Cloud was the first Negria class 
to fly, and it was a bull in a field of sheep. Bombs 
poured from the blimps and raced for the horizon. The 
Keldon forces the League chased were not visible to 
Barrin, but he could see fireballs and streamers being 
thrown into the air in a vain attempt at vengeance or 
interception.
    The bombs dropped out of sight. Even over the noise of 
the preparing troops, Barrin could hear the long ripping 
roar of explosions as each bomb laid a clutch of bomblets 
before settling down to roost at the collection point. He 
could not see them hit, but he did see the smoke from 
burning barges.
    "Alexi, how much damage?" he demanded. The reply was 
hard to make out over the cheers on the other end.
    "Nearly a clean sweep," Alexi replied. "Probably 
ninety percent of the big barges were hit and perhaps 
fifty percent of the small ones. They're not destroyed, 
but that group will be a while conducting repairs. If you 
want to be sure let me drop the other bays."
    "No," Barrin scolded. "Find the other column. They 
must be close by." Time was running out, and Barrin 
couldn't say all that needed to be said to his wife.
    "Here," he said, and took a crystal from his wallet. 
"I'll pulse it twice when I am going to have Alexi dump 
her load on the enemy. It will pulse just once to signal a 
flank attack." Rayne caught it as he tossed it to her. "I 
love you," he cried as she went back to the scouts and ant 
swarms. She may have said something in reply, but Barrin 
couldn't hear in the confusion.
    Barrin's ears picked up the quickening beat of an 
ornithopter's wings and turned to see his private craft 
coming in for a landing. He rushed toward the craft, 
furious that Yarbo should be on the ground while an entire 
enemy column was missing. Shalanda dismounted and met him 
before he could begin yelling.
    "Barrin, it's not poison, it's plague!" Shalanda cried 
as he nearly ran into her.
    "What?" He had no idea what she was talking about. 
Didn't she realize a battle was about to start?
    "The dead animals around the water holes were killed 
by disease, not poison," Shalanda explained. "When I 
inspected the carcasses and the water I realized that it 
was a disease." She took a deep breath. "I think it might 
be a more advanced form of the flu we spotted during the 
attack on Arsenal City. The League is starting to report 
hundreds of cases over the naval channels. It's jumping 
from animals to men."
    "I can't believe the Keldons would do this. Don't they 
realize they are vulnerable too?" Barrin was enraged at 
the idea of disease being spread to kill whoever might be 
exposed.
    "I don't think the Keldons are responsible," Shalanda 
said. "It looks far too advanced to be something of their 
making. The spores appear to be part organic material and 
part machine!"
    Barrin had no time to digest this new information 
because the sky seemed to clear, and the missing enemy 
column appeared less than a mile away.

                          * * * * *

    "Deploy the warriors and the war manikins." Urit 
issued the order but at Latulla's direction.
    The League forces were fairly close, and Haddad 
wondered if he would be killed by friendly fire. Latulla 
had screamed murderously and pounded a slave to death at 
the news of the other Keldons' destruction. Her curses 
against the League were interspersed with promises of 
terrible punishment for the commanders stupid enough to be 
killed by the blimp attacks. A small barge brought them 
the news along with one of the weapons responsible. 
Latulla wasted no time in cracking it open, and Haddad 
closed his eyes in prayer, waiting for the blast the 
madwoman was sure to unleash. Instead the artificer 
dissected an almost empty shell. Haddad thought he grasped 
how it worked, but it was the powerstone and the command 
set that fascinated Latulla. She calmed almost instantly 
and called Greel and Iola to her for a quick conference. 
Whatever the result, Latulla wasted no time in calling for 
an attack. Once the order was relayed, she called the 
captain of the barge to her side.
    "We need to be closer to the front of the battle to 
activate the weapon. Prepare to move us up with the 
assault forces," she directed.
    "We are going nowhere until I can beg some Heroes' 
Blood from another barge. We have completely exhausted our 
supply." The captain pointed to the slaves working on the 
seals and reservoirs. Haddad knew what Latulla's preferred 
solution would be and said his good-byes to slavery.
    Slipping over the side was easy. Latulla's barge had 
stopped sooner than the other barges, and all watchful 
eyes were toward the enemy. Even if he were spotted, a 
warrior would not throw away the battle to chase an 
escaped slave. He would get away and circle back to the 
League lines. In his excitement, he forgot that he was not 
escaping from a Keldon warrior but from Latulla. The pain 
was an ax in his side as her rage tore into him through 
the bracelet.
    He was on the ground and a very small child could have 
captured him in those first moments of pain. He could 
smell the crushed grass he writhed in. The pain seemed to 
peak and then subside slightly. He moved his legs, turning 
his body until he could see the Keldon position. There was 
a growing crowd of warriors and war manikins.
    Latulla's barge was almost leisurely moving toward the 
front of the lines. A single figure left it and began 
walking back toward Haddad. Had Latulla sent a slave back 
to retrieve her toy? It was Greel, and Haddad recognized 
the smile before any other features were visible.
    "Thought you would take a walk, did you?" The voice 
was almost bantering as a boot nudged Haddad's side. "You 
should have known that Latulla never lets anything go once 
she owns it." Greel knelt and lightly slapped Haddad's 
arm. The prone man choked as a bolt of pain stopped him 
from breathing.
    "I think that you know who I am," Greel said. "I think 
you've seen me when I am more myself." Another playful 
slap rocked Haddad's head.
    "I must be going, but as soon as I come back, we can 
tell each other all about ourselves. You are Latulla's 
gift to me, and I always play with my presents." Greel 
raised his hand to slap the bracelet, and Haddad couldn't 
help cringing. "I'll give you a pat when I get back."
    The familiar walked back, and as soon as Haddad could, 
he rose to his hands and knees and crawled back to the 
Keldon lines and the oncoming Kipamu League forces. Maybe 
a Keldon warrior would kill him or a League bolt would 
skewer him, but he was not going to remain alone in the 
grass waiting for that monster to return.

                          * * * * *

    General Mageta ordered the attack to commence. There 
was no time to dig in, and though the Keldons were 
numerous, the League army was confident they could be 
beaten. The crabs went forth with supporting squads of 
infantry. A few launchers discharged, and rockets flew 
into the oncoming lines of men and hollow warriors. The 
Keldons once more had smoking embers and sticks of incense 
burning in their armor. The ants advanced at a trot, held 
back to keep the line steady. The mantises in their bright 
colors anchored the right side of the League line. It was 
growing harder to see the action as the lines closed, but 
Barrin could just make out Mageta at the front. The old 
mage waved for Yarbo to take them up as he jumped into the 
ornithopter.
    The Keldons were closer, and a roar of thousands shook 
the battlefield as they charged. The League responded with 
its own roar. The crabs fired not rockets but oversized 
net rounds. The opposing Keldons and their machines were 
transformed into cursing, roiling barricades that 
continued to trap warriors. The enemy troops trampled 
their more unfortunate fellows as they crested the 
barrier, but each crab had three weapons modules and 
another wave of Keldons fell entangled. The infantry with 
the crabs settled into a sustained barrage of light 
rockets at the webbed forces.
    The ants were not as impressive, but almost as many 
Keldons died when they first met. The ants discharged 
their single rockets, and the sheer number of launchers 
overwhelmed the front ranks of the Keldons. The supporting 
infantry was armed with only swords and bolt launchers. 
The ants, when they did not dismember the enemy, held them 
long enough to be killed by the men supporting the 
machines.
    The mantises stayed well back to deal with any 
breakthroughs or to lead a new attack. The main weapons 
pod was loaded with a heavy rocket to bust barges, but 
their high heads held a single light launcher, and the 
rockets shot out over the League forces to kill targets of 
opportunity.
    The crabs advanced now, and their heavy arms crushed 
the helpless foe. The Keldons were held in place, and 
Alexi called to Barrin.
    "I'm in position, and you're well out of the weapons' 
path," she said.
    "Fire on the barges!" Barrin ordered, and he sent two 
pulses to Rayne's crystal. Soon he would relay a single 
pulse, sending forces in to attack the Keldons from the 
rear. Victory tasted so sweet.

                          * * * * *

    Rayne was separated from the rest of scouts. Shalanda 
and Jolreal had prepared a device for detecting 
concentrations of the blight and disease. Rayne had 
insisted that she be able to identify concentrations when 
separated from the other two. Back along the Keldons' path 
she had identified a trace. Like a lodestone to iron, she 
could feel the needle pulling her forward away from the 
other scouts. The trail of dead bodies behind the Keldon 
army showed traces, but the strongest concentration 
beckoned her farther and farther on. She slowed as she 
neared the parked barges. She wouldn't follow the trace 
any farther. In fact, she began a slow retreat, for the 
battle was too close. She needed to return to the scouts 
off to her right. The barge guards looked toward her, and 
she turned her machine. A warrior surprised her from 
behind, and he swung his sword, missing her by inches as 
she jumped her machine to the side.
    "A wonderful dodge, lady!" the warrior yelled, and 
rushed forward, a wide grin lighting up his face. Rayne 
triggered her wings and opened his abdomen as she 
maneuvered her runner. Something like intestines poured 
from the wound, but the warrior did not buckle, he 
laughed. Huge guffaws burst from his gaping mouth as Rayne 
stared. The warrior hugged his sides but from the force of 
his laughter, not the pain of his wound. She still gripped 
the needle on the string. It was pointed toward the 
warrior, pulling at her hand.
    "You're thick with the disease," she said under her 
breath as she unleashed her bolts at the enemy.
    The warrior dodged too fast, and her shots buried 
themselves in the ground. He stumbled as he came at her, 
and she triggered her wings once more before retreating a 
few yards back. She ducked down as a thrown knife came at 
her head. It clipped her temple as she dodged, and she was 
stunned for the moment. Blood poured down the side of her 
face and then dripped down her chin, spattering on the 
runner controls as she tried to stay conscious.
    "My name is Greel, pet," the monster said. Another 
knife was in his hands, but instead of throwing it, he 
used it to cut the tubes of flesh still hanging from his 
body. "First you cut me with blades then you cut me with 
words. You really can't expect me to ignore that bad 
behavior."
    He stalked toward her, and she shook her head, hoping 
the pain would burn through the fog in her brain. She 
needed to live through this. Her hand grasped the stock of 
her launcher as she backed and turned her machine. If she 
ran, the bestial creature in front of her would put a 
knife in her back. End this now and get back to your 
friends, she thought. Then she felt the crystal in her 
pocket vibrate twice. Barrin was ordering Alexi to attack. 
The blimps would drop their bombs any second and she might 
still be in the path of destruction. More barge crew 
guards were coming, and time was running out. Then 
Barrin's crystal pulsed once more.
    "It appears playtime is almost over, darling," Greel 
said. "If I don't kill you now you might say something 
embarrassing about me. My feelings are far too tender for 
that." He looked quickly to see how close the Keldons 
were, and in that instant Rayne charged.
    Every bolt she had left snapped through the air as the 
runner closed. Two caught Greel's legs, and he fell as his 
limbs gave way. Rayne drew her launcher, determined to put 
a rocket into the monster. Then there was a great 
explosion, and her runner seemed to fall away underneath 
her. Rayne flew from the saddle as her mount lost all 
control. At high speed Rayne approached the ground, 
turning in midair. She came down on her side. Her arm and 
ribs shattered as they contacted the soil, and her body 
flipped over and hit once more. Her pelvis and legs broke 
as she slid to a stop. The pain hit her like a 
sledgehammer, and she gasped. She was facing Greel, and 
the monster was still smiling, his flesh remolding itself 
on his legs.
    "I do believe I am going to win the race to get up 
first," Greel said in a jolly tone. "I think broken toys 
are the most fun, but don't worry. With an audience I am 
always quick."
    Rayne couldn't move. She felt cold and knew shock was 
killing her. Her opponent vanished from her thoughts as 
she tried to move. Nothing seemed to work, and the enemy 
was closing too fast. She was going to die. She thought of 
her daughter and the decades she had been with Barrin. So 
many years of happiness and love.
    "It was a good life," she whispered, and closed her 
eyes.

                          * * * * *

    The discharge of the Keldon weapon was sudden and 
without warning. Barrin watched for signs of the fire 
swallows, but he never detected Latulla's weapon. She had 
developed it on Keld after gaining access to captured 
League machines.
    A wave of disruption spread in all directions from the 
Keldon barges. It battered artifacts and power drained 
from crystals in a sudden surge. Barrin was deaf and blind 
as energy flared all around him and drowned his senses.
    Yarbo cursed as the ornithopter lost power but managed 
to coax the machine into a glide. On the ground, the power 
discharge was far more deadly. The League machines 
stopped. The crabs stopped swinging their arms, the ants 
fell in heaps, and the mantises teetered in place. Alexi 
had begun her attack run with bloodthirsty anticipation, 
but her bombs fell straight to the ground instead of 
gliding toward the land barges. They impacted with dull 
thuds, breaking into pieces, unnoticed by anyone except 
the incredulous crews that had hoped to win a battle.
    As war machines lost power on the battlefield, the 
Keldons fell on the League forces, but these were not the 
same soldiers who had routed before at turns of fortune.
    "Fire and close!" screamed Mageta as warriors tried to 
cut him down. The soldiers emptied launchers, and the 
front ranks swarmed over their opponents with short swords 
and knives. The war manikins were slow as the magical 
attack affected them. Soldiers trampled them to reach the 
warriors powering the Keldon artifacts. A bloody line of 
battle swayed back and forth as Mageta continued to cut 
down the enemy, favoring his injured arm but still gutting 
the warriors who closed with him.
    Yarbo regained power in a sudden rush. The more 
advanced Tolarian technology recovered faster, and they 
were farther from the generator. He climbed as other 
machines on the plain below twitched. Barrin remembered 
that Rayne was to attack just before power was lost, and 
he pushed Yarbo aside from the controls. He sent the 
machine into a steep dive over the battlefield.
    He spotted her runner as he flared over the mass of 
men and machines. The land barge crews had charged toward 
the main battle, but several dozen were still behind the 
main battle. Barrin saw Rayne's machine sprawled from a 
fall.
    Barrin flew the ornithopter into the ground. Yarbo was 
knocked unconscious, but Barrin ignored him as he kicked 
his way free of the cabin. The Keldons ran at him yelling. 
Barrin raised his hands but not in surrender. Like a 
scythe, lightning poured from the wizard's hands, spearing 
into the helmets of the enemy. The continuous flare of 
power waved from side to side. Heads exploded, sundering 
flash-heated helmets. Warriors ducked but still charged 
forward. Barrin had aimed high to avoid hitting his wife, 
but now slow arcs of flame fluttered through the air and 
settled on the charging warriors. They turned to fiery 
pillars as Barrin hurried toward his wife's machine, still 
hoping to be in time. The warriors between him and the 
runner were piles of ash. He reached the fallen machine 
and saw Rayne's body. It was deformed, nearly crushed. 
Barrin slowed to a crawl. His eyes took in her broken legs 
and the pool of blood from her torso-her headless torso. 
He dropped to his knees and screamed. They had taken his 
beloved's head. They had destroyed her body.
    "They're dead," he hissed through gritted teeth. 
"They'll all burn."
    "There isn't enough rage and hate in the world to burn 
me," someone chortled.
    Behind Barrin, Greel was getting to his feet. Barrin's 
fires had burned into its body, but the flesh was healing 
as Barrin looked on.
    "I killed her, and now I get to kill you."
    "There's always enough hate," Barrin rasped, 
stretching his senses deep into the bowels of the 
creature. It was disease and death made manifest. Like a 
pool of quicksand, it tried to suck his spirit into 
oblivion. Greel picked up a sword and closed with the 
kneeling wizard. The energy that flew from Barrin's 
fingers was not a mighty bolt of lightning but a cascade 
of sparks. Greel laughed as it soaked into him, but this 
energy attacked and disrupted the very cells and fluids of 
the monster's body. The blood and flesh separated into 
wildly different parts. The monster gasped and stumbled 
closer, raising the sword to kill but unable to travel 
forward on disassembled legs. Bones and a spray of liquid 
landed in front of Barrin, searing into the old wizard's 
legs. He ignored the pain.
    The guards from the barges were closing on him, 
believing him spent. Once more he sent forth a blade of 
lightning, but now it moved at knee level and severed 
legs. The screams of agony were a salve to Barrin's pain. 
He rose to his feet and looked over the field of cripples. 
It wasn't enough. He looked toward the sky, and his mind 
raced higher and higher. Then high over the ground he 
found what he was looking for-a river of air that circled 
Dominaria. Like a man filling a bucket, he dipped into the 
jet stream and brought it toward the earth. His mind fell 
with the wind, pushing it faster and faster. The blast of 
air scooped the wounded men into the sky, their screams 
drowned out by the wind. They dribbled out of the sky, icy 
corpses as Barrin returned the power to the heavens.
    It still wasn't enough. The Keldons near the barges 
were frozen numb as they stared at Barrin. Perhaps these 
would ease his rage. The wizard began advancing, and the 
warriors ran toward the battle. Better to fight men and 
metal machines than Barrin.
    "Craven scum!" Barrin yelled. "Come and die!" He sent 
a wave of nightmarish illusion to turn them back, driving 
the warriors where he could see their faces as he killed 
them. Monsters appeared in the Keldon lines and fell on 
the enemy. Mageta looked at a huge dragon dripping slime. 
It loomed over the Keldons and struck at them, spreading 
fear. Warriors killed each other as they fought the 
Tolarian wizard's deceit, but few ran back toward the 
barges, preferring monsters to wizard.
    Barrin was aware of the battlefield now. Mageta was 
closing with the last of the reserves, and the machines 
had reactivated. Barrin's attack spread panic among the 
Keldons, and more warriors were cut down trying to flee.
    The charging of the fire swallows in the barges was a 
shout across his mind. The Keldon commanders were going to 
unleash a wave of destruction that might finish the League 
even if it savaged their own army. He lacked the power to 
stop the attack, but they had killed his wife. He could 
not rest as long as a single one of them lived.
    Barrin stumbled toward the barges, his mind and powers 
preceding his body. Only a few of the barges were ready to 
launch, and Barrin could feel the instructions trickling 
down to the reanimated birds. It was his voice-his will- 
that filled the tiny weapons. His mind followed the links 
already established between the barges.
    "Fly here, roost here." It was a cajoling cry that 
silenced the cold instructions delivered by a Keldon 
artificer. Whether it was the intensity of Barrin's will 
or the hatred he channeled he did not know, but the birds 
responded, and on release they rose into the air and fell 
upon the Keldons and their barges. Wooden shells burned, 
and Barrin enjoyed it. The smell of burning flesh was a 
cloud over the battlefield, assaulting his brain. This 
scent had always sickened him, but now he sought it, 
craved it. He walked among the barges, weak and wavering.
    The enraged wizard stooped and plucked a sword from a 
dead warrior's hand. A few still lived and fled from the 
battle. He fell upon them, striking weakly at warriors but 
ignoring the slaves. An easy target, the Keldons fled from 
him in mindless fear. At last he reached a collapsed 
barge. The legs were blown free, and it had fallen on its 
side. It had crushed the Keldon commanders and been 
abandoned by everyone. A thick layer of soot was covering 
everything, and Barrin wiped his eyes. Someone was trapped 
by the barge. He moved forward and saw that it was a 
Keldon woman, her face rigid with pain and a cane clutched 
in her hand.
    "Dig me free!" ordered Latulla, blinking rapidly to 
clear her tearing eyes. "Hurry, slave, or I'll have you 
beaten." The symmetry of it was so perfect, and Barrin 
came forward without hesitation.

                          * * * * *

    It was almost an hour before General Mageta and a 
platoon of marines finally reached him. The Keldons were 
routed and still running from pursuing groups of cavalry 
and steel ants. Mageta was wounded again, three fingers 
showing on a bandaged hand and his chest bare and wrapped 
in bloody cotton. Barrin leaned against a smoking barge 
shell, a headless Keldon at his feet. Mageta rushed to 
express his grief, for he knew how Rayne had died.
    "Barrin," Mageta said. "We've won the battle and 
shattered Keldon power on Jamuraa. The enemy is running, 
and Teferi's forces march to cut off their escape." Barrin 
said not a word at the news but continued to stare at 
Latulla's broken body.
    "What should we do now?" Mageta said, trying to jar 
Barrin out of his silence. "There are still warriors on 
the plains and small detachments across Jamuraa. What are 
your orders?"
    Barrin leaned against the side of a burning barge with 
his eyes closed. Decades of loving memories tried to fill 
the gap Rayne left when she died.
    His voice was as cold as ice. "No quarter."

                          * * * * *

    Haddad lay at the rear of the battlefield. Despite his 
fears, he was never noticed during the fighting, his pain 
and suffering lost against the backdrop of others dying. 
He witnessed parts of the battle, but every explosion and 
scream was muffled by his own agony. How long he lay 
there, he couldn't say. Finally a voice penetrated his 
mind.
    "Where are you wounded?"
    It was a handsome woman speaking with kindness and 
concern. He was so close to home that the pain seemed 
almost gone.
    "I am Haddad. A soldier of the League." He had to 
pause and muster strength before he could continue. "I was 
captured months ago and made a slave. I have important 
information."
    Latulla's bracelet sent even more pain into Haddad's 
body as he tried to betray her. He hammered his head into 
the ground as his bones seemed to twist and grate.
    "What's wrong?" Shalanda had come searching for 
wounded and maybe information. This former slave appeared 
to be both, but he might die before he could tell her 
anything.
    "It's the bracelet. It's killing me. Please destroy 
it. Please!" The need was overwhelming in Haddad's voice, 
and at last she agreed.
    Shalanda breathed and focused on Haddad's pain. The 
bright core of it nearly blinded her. She lay her hands on 
the bracelet and could feel the tension barely restrained. 
Just a gentle nudge should dislodge it.
    The bracelet unwound itself in a spray of blood and 
twisting wire. The device had sent wires up and down 
Haddad's side, and they were expelled violently in 
response to Shalanda's ministrations. The shock 
reverberated in her mind, and she could feel herself 
falling toward the ground. If she hit, her mind and spirit 
would break, and she prayed to fall forever.
    Haddad could only see the sky and the end of pain. At 
last, a free man. He closed his eyes and the world went 
away.
    
                        Epilogue

    Teferi sat in his palace on his island. He retreated 
here to be alone after the destruction of the Keldon 
colony. Almost all the Keldon's warriors had been on the 
plains meeting Barrin in battle. Teferi and his marines 
had rescued thousands of slaves as the last die-hard 
Keldons had been rooted out. The fighting was over when he 
finally viewed the interior battlefield.
    Rayne was dead. A friend and wife of a friend. 
Immortality became more bitter each time someone close 
died and bitterest of all when an old friend died. Barrin 
had won but cared nothing for his victory. He only 
demanded a cargo dirigible be sent from Tolaria to pick up 
his wife and her volunteers. Shalanda, Rayne's aide, was 
in a coma and no one was certain why, though Teferi feared 
it had something to do with the disease sweeping the 
continent. Perhaps it would burn out, but the planeswalker 
knew that was too optimistic.
    More people were dying from this mysterious plague, 
and Teferi considered the old rantings of his one-time 
teacher, Urza Planeswalker. If what Urza had been 
preparing for all these years actually came to pass, there 
would be even more death in the coming months. Teferi 
looked into the darkness and swore an oath.
    "I will guard my lands and the people who look to me, 
but I will never follow Urza. I will make my own way."
