Storms, mighty and perilous had swept across the valley and strove against the guardians of fate for centuries, but nothing had been able to topple their power.
The day that they could be toppled, all life on this world would be unalterably changed forever....

At the lower end of the valley, a long procession of people could be seen slowly moving up the valley floor, avoiding the rough places in the old worn road.

The surrounding wood at valley’s edge was mute witness to many such processions as they climbed with wheezing breath upward toward the dais, two chained men between heavily armored guards.

It seemed like a long time to the silent watcher that was perched upon the tall stump of an old lightening struck tree.   He watched everything, for the prophesy indicated that by stealth and deceit, the guardian stones would be smashed.

He studied the two victims of King Orchelius, the chosen tale bearers that would be tried slowly as they attempted to make the towers of fate accept their artfully woven tales—a custom which was repeated yearly.

The only reward the looser would receive would be to have their memory glorified as a Bard of Fate, having lost to the victor because the towers of fate had chosen the victor’s tales over theirs.   The victor would forever be free to carry tales—not only his own tales, but those of the Bard of Fate as well—to every town and village he cared to travel to, always welcome at every tavern with many fringe benefits thrown in.

This was how the dead tale bearer lived on in the memories of the people, often given greater oratory powers than they had actually possessed.   And no matter how well a tale bearer tried to hide their talent while growing up, it would always be discovered by someone, sooner or later.

The great throng of peasantry, royal bearers and the court of Avontry—with several visiting dignitaries who often made a pilgrimage to the commonwealth of Delianshire to watch these proceedings and to hear the tales of the chosen—finally walked up to the dais and settled around it in folding chairs that many had been carrying.

The rest of the king’s servants and bearers stood behind his position at the head of the procession, behind the alter and between the towers of unyielding stone.   The somewhat fearful servants seemed to be keeping a respectful distance between themselves and the guardians. 

Rumors were rife in the kingdom about the prophesy, but it was being studiously ignored by a disbelieving king and many of his subjects.

The guards brought the chosen before the alter and the high court’s priest began to mutter his chants and preparation rites before the actual ceremony would begin.   He sprinkled a powder across the shoulders of each victim and rushed his last words as he watched the king’s impatient movements.

"Let the ceremony of the tales of fate begin!"  He croaked at last, happily turning the ceremonial speech over to the King’s seneschal. 

A middle-aged, well dressed man of passing good looks and strong vibrant voice, Rodane began to speak with a flourish, his manicured hands gesturing as he did so.

"Citizens of Delianshire and welcome visitors from afar, we gather this day to celebrate the day of fate which touches us all and to watch the choosing of yet another great tale bearer."   He waved around the alter toward the two men in chains and continued. 

"The blood of the one who fails to please the towers of fate, will be preserved and placed in the Sanctuary of Fate as a testament to his soul on the last day.   Now, to begin the proceedings."

He stepped back down and a man in dark robes and hooded face stepped forward, long sharp sickle in his hands.   He stood to the side of the alter, ready to act when the new tale bearer was chosen.

The guards removed the chains and shackles from the tale bearers and pushed them forward, each before one of the stone towers.

The crowd jeered softly, but quickly stopped as the king raised his hand.

"You have heard that a prophesy proclaims doom for us and the towers, to happen this day.   I say that it was wrought by a foolish old woman who has fallen away from the one true religion."   He paused, and several guards brought another chained prisoner forward, shoving her down on the ground before the king.

"A woman, as you see, who doesn’t even wear the garb of one who prophesies.   To what can we connect her behavior to?   All who bear true prophecies must wear the customary clothing so that they can be recognized as a prophet."   He signaled the guards to bring her closer.

"Woman.   You will cease and desist from your lying prophesy or you will take up the ways of the prophets, as is only right."

The old woman lifted her head and peered at him with pale sharp eyes.   "I speak true as you will see.   But my father was removed from the ways of the prophets by their own conniving and I vowed a vow....never to join their kind until they were brought low for their lies."   She turned and looked upon the towers sadly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Alas!   This day shall be evil to us all!"

The king signaled her guards angrily, his impatient gesture all that was needed to send her to a sudden death, as the guards pulled their swords and slew her immediately.
Her blood splashed violently, sprinkling the garments of the king as he sat upon his golden chair.

The gathered courtiers and visitors gasped in sudden fear and trepidation, for it was well known that the sprinkled blood of a prophet brought evil upon its recipient.   No one noticed the few drops of blood which had been sprinkled on the towers as well. 

The seneschal arose again and stood before the alter, facing the people. 

"Let the reading of the first charge of tale bearing begin.   Lars De Cruxe, You have been witnessed and proven to be a tale bearer by the preponderance of several true witnesses.   What do you say to these charges?   Prove the charges false or confess thy talent!" 

The tallest of the two, older and lean, lifted his head and the strength of his face caused Rodane to take a few steps backward, for the man was also known to be a wizard of some renown.

"My accusers are not educated enough to know what true tale bearing is, but it is true that I have on occasion, come across tales that burn away at my mind to be told."   He spoke softly, but none doubted the veracity of his words.

The seneschal nodded, but he hesitantly looked at the king as he turned toward the other tale bearer.

"Joruma Il’ Deuin, You have been witnessed and proven to be a tale bearer by the preponderance of three true witnesses.   Do you confess or deny?   Prove the charges false or confess thy talent!"

The snowy head lifted, but a youthful face revealed the fear of a young boy with girlish features.   His huge green eyes seemed to glow.

"I’m not a very good tale bearer...stories do burn inside of me, like a wind driven flame, but I’m not very good..."   He spoke with a soft, sweet voice that sounded almost musical.   Then he turned his head and gazed upon his opponent, the wizard.

"You will have your wish this day, and be done with me."

Lars De Cruxe stared back with a hard, brutal gaze of his small dark eyes.   "Fate will decide who will walk away and who will this day die!"   His words no longer soft, came with a fierceness that made the hair on the seneschal’s neck rise.   Rodane quickly turned away and bowed to his king, his duties done.

"Lars, commence with your first tale!"   King Orchelius commanded.

Lars turned and faced the stone he stood before and backed to the corner of the alter that was near to his side, allowing his leg to touch it.   As he began to speak, the center of the alter began to move and a mist arose from it, revealing images of the true tale that he was summoning from his memory.

"This tale is called the Tears Of The Eldest."   He began, and the image above the alter revealed crystal tear shaped gems that shone brightly.   Then he continued on into the tale, his voice strong and the vision captivating. 

A whiff of smoke arose from a scented copper lamp, as a small jet of steam puffed from it.  Menoita noticed it and continued to write in his log book, trying to keep up with the flow of names and acts of each member as he trekked across the sheet of parchment.  But the whiff of smoke persisted even after the steam had long evaporated, streaming around his pencil and scurrying across the sheet before him.

He drew a deep breath.  "Must be something very important."  He mused to himself as he drew the lamp across the table toward himself.  He removed its cover and peered down into its depths, searching among the many little swirls and ethers for what he was looking for.

"There you are.  Show me your message."  He commanded the small spot that rippled with a little bubble in the gaseous fluid.  He took the small scepter like stick and stirred the contents until only the bubble remained..

"Large column of enemy arriving on the fields of Degehm, and the children of Kappar have enclosed the back side.  With the mountains to the north and the waters to the south, King Eonoth is totally surrounded.  His army is but four thousand strong.  What answer do I return to his priest?"

"Arouse the kings of Serphaim and Herbrook.  They both owe him favors for the time of famine that he aided them through."

"But they have been overridden and pillaged.  Both kings lie in the dust of the earth as we speak.  His brothers provinces to the east and west are also laid waste and cannot be found.  He stands alone against odds that an army of twenty thousand couldn’t withstand and his is a laughing stock by comparison.   What shall I say?"

"Behold the sun.  For as long as it stands in the mid sky, you shall defeat your enemies.  Not one of your men shall die.  But as soon as the sun starts to move in its path, return to your fortress.  Remove all surface dross and emblems from your silver shields and wax them to a goodly shine, for this day will the sun stand still and be of the utmost brightness, that no time has ever seen or ever will again. 

On the morrow, aid arrives from an unlikely source.  Together, you will strike new alliances and drive the enemy before you into the way that goes to the mountains and there you will utterly cut off the name of  Tishben the Mighty.  His seed shall be forgotten in the dust."

The bubble rippled with a loud pop as it disappeared and went about its duty.  Its message had been one of sorrow and grief, brought from a ravaged soul.  Eonoth loved his brothers greatly, even though they were rebels of his own laws as well as the rules and laws Menoita had established a long time before them.  For Eonoths’ sake, he had ignored their aggrievous behavior.  He turned back to his parchment and scribbled on with his entries, adding their names and last acts to the list.

Eonoth would be alone for a while, the eldest among the heirs of Degehm Valley and the whole plains to the east and the west..  Because his tears were the crystal tears of the birth marked, they ascended before Menoita whenever he cried and when his priests said their mantras in the temples for help. 

The only race whose kingdom  heir was marked at birth  and shed crystal tears that ascended to Menoita,  the Degehm Valley people closely guarded their royal prince till the day he would ascend to the throne.  For if he died, they would not have a crystal crier until the next generation. 

And Menoita favored the Degehm Valley people over all the other people of the world.  They were more obedient to his laws and had more understanding in their hearts about what they were about.  They were also mostly a sheep and cattle herding people, living gently off of the land that bore them, despite their many other flaws. 

A speck of smoke stirred from the lamp’s spout, but this time he lifted the lid quickly and frowned down into the depths for the bubble.

A small ripple with a very faint center revealed several priests crying fearfully for their lives as the voices of Eonoth’s brothers could be heard in the background, giving orders.  He frowned and stirred the water once more, then with a snap of his fingers, changed his mind.

With a mighty blast, he sent a travel sphere to them and snatched them up, clothing them warmly before hurling it into the frozen mountains beyond Degehm Valley.  Let them wander about in the cold and hungry north for a while.  Maybe they would learn the better of their ways and be ready to return home obediently, when next he checked on them.  To Eonoth, he sent a message by special courier.  The black raven.  He would know that they were alive and living well.

With a sigh that reached down into his deepest depths, he replaced the lid and returned to his record keeping.  If he didn’t do this, no one would ever reach the end of the list of what they had done and half would be slyly forgotten.  No cheating when it came time to reap rewards great and small.

The next day at about sundown, a strong odor of death drenched essence trailed up before his nose just as a small trail of smoke drifted up from the lamp.  He grabbed the lamp and removed the lid expectantly, knowing who it was this time.

"Eonoth.  You have beaten odds that none ever have before you.  From this moment on in time, you will be known as Enith, the destroyer of his enemies.  None shall dare raise up against you or your seed for many generations.  Your tears of joy and happiness at victory and reprieve for your brothers has been duly noted.  From now on, you will save every tear and put it in a cup against the day of your death. 

For one generation will pass in which no birth marked heir will reign and your tears will serve as theirs, for all your goodness and obedience, that your name will be remembered in the world as one whose obedience brought such great marvels.  Your son, Amasa will be named  Avared, the gentle.  He shall birth one who will be schooled after your tenants and thoughts and perform even more marvels in his time. 

Great cities will he build and name the greatest Enith, after you.  His tears will be crystal and ruby, for Avared will marry the daughter of  the king who helped you today. 

Together, they will form an heirship that will last for a time and times and again times.  Many great things will be done in your kingdom that will become legend to the generations to follow."  As Menoita replaced the lid, he heard the happy songs breaking out around Enith, for he had spoken in a loud voice that all around him could hear.

"So begin the time of legends."  Whispered Menoita, remembering his younger days as a living being on the world below.  Now he lived such an utterly different life that the physical realm could not begin to fathom what it was like to be an elemental being.

Enith had won a great victory, nearly loosing his life because he began to loose the battle as soon as the sun had begun to move.   But the few enemy soldiers had been so thoroughly routed that they had slunk from the field as soon as they saw their leaders captured or killed.

Yet his obedience in retreating had won him ages of renowned peace which would allow him to enjoy his life, his children and the many famed events which would follow this day.

Menoita, the elemental record keeper of time and destiny, continued scribbling across his scrolls, heaven’s protege well set for a time. 

Lars stared at the tower for a second, noticing that its glow was barely noticeable and uttered his last sentence.   "It is finished."

King Orchelius looked at the tower too, rubbing his goatee.   "Hmm-m.   You don’t seem to have mustered much fate yet, wizard!"   He laughed. But turned now to the frightened face of the youth.   "Your turn now.   Surely you can fetch a better tale than this dim wizard?"

I am not such a great tale bearer...but my offerings may yet please a little more than his first tale."   The boy moved back as the wizard moved forward again.   When his leg was likewise touching the alter, he began in a singsong voice, as if to sing the tale and the mist arose for him as well.

"My first tale is called The Itchlitch of Nefnod ".   And the mist began to spin an image of a small puppet on a shelf while an old man moved about a cluttered room.

There was once an old man, named Hespin who lived alone in his dark dreary castle.   He didn’t have very much now because he had lost all his gold to a wood carver who stole it and ran, leaving his tools behind.   All the old man had left of value, was his big golden harp and a picture of this fairy godmother which he’d painted himself when a young man..   Of course there were many old musty pieces of furniture and clothing, but they weren’t of any value.

The big golden harp could make the most beautiful music in the physical world and it was what kept him from simply giving up on life and dying.   Hespin sat by the fire every night and listened to it play after a long day of trying to make toys for children with the tools and all sorts of wood that he found along beaches and lakes.   Wood that sometimes washed up from ship wrecks or fallen tree branches.

But the wood was often rotten inside or too hard to cut properly for toys, and he had to learn how to use the tools.   That meant that he ended up with only a few toys every night and would have few to sell by Friday.  Sometimes he would have a toy that was very special with special properties, because of hidden qualities in the wood.  But it was a while before he knew this since it was awhile before the parents of those children realized it.  So Hespin had very little money—silver and copper pieces, but no gold.

Then one day he had finished making a toy and had put it up to dry from the resin he had coated it with.   It lay there on the mantle above the hearth, glowing more and more as it dried, and when it was dry, it seemed to shimmer.   He could see that this toy was going to be special in some way, but had no idea that it could become a vessel for fairy or pixy spirits—those who had died but wanted to return to their former life.   They had to find a willing vessel first and enter it, then they could take their time to find living body to reside in.

Now there are all sorts of fairies who inhabit the world around us.   Tiny little gossamer winged nymphs that drink from moonlit blossoms during the night; knee high pixies, who live in the woods and have their homes in the center of old trees, and water sylphs, who can disguise themselves as frogs on lily pads and sit singing all night along with the frogs.  If you get real quite around midnight, you can hear their silvery little voices chiming in with them.  And there are too many others to list here.

But there are some bad ones too.  The grockenmora, fairies who resemble the little nymphs and sometimes trick unwary travelers and who scare most of the fairies away because they are not only very ugly, but very mean as well; the dark pixies, who stay at war with the good ones; and the itchlitches of Nefnod, a place where only the worst fairies hang out.   There are more pesky types but these are the three most notable of the bad fairies.

Anyway, the little toy man looked very nice and had this shimmer which gave it a special look so Hespin got it down to look at it more closely.   He had done a very good job with a difficult piece of wood and the little man almost seemed to be alive.   After listening to his music while holding the toy man, he placed it by the harp and went to bed, happy that he finally could use those tools and make better toys.

That night, a wisp of smoke or what looked like smoke, swirled along the mantle, especially where the toy man had stood.   It circled about the room, as if looking for something and when it neared the harp it stopped very still, hanging there in the air.  It didn’t like the harp but the toy man was there, still resonating from the music.

The wisp of smoke stayed where it was for a while, then as soon as the toy stopped resonating the music, it moved as close as it dared to the harp, and began to send tendrils of very thin smoke toward the toy man.

The toy man started to move slowly toward the wisp of smoke and soon was close enough so that the wispy thing didn’t have to worry about that pesky harp.   The toy man was trying to stop moving, but it had very little strength to stop the wisp of smoke, so before it knew anything much at all, it suddenly felt the thing hiding inside it.  And then suddenly it knew too many things at once and had to sit very still to study all the things it was learning.

The next morning, Hespin noticed right away that the toy man no longer glowed, but seemed to have a dim halo, like something magicked.  The little toy man was warm to the touch, like it had been sitting too close to the fire.  Yet he knew that it hadn’t been.  Puzzled, he sat it back on the mantle and stared at it for a while, until it moved.

"What?"  Hespin gasped.  "I saw you move.  But how can that be?"  He frowned and started to pick it up again, but it avoided his touch.

"What has happened to you since I left you last night, anyway?"  he asked.

"Oh, just your run of the mill standing here waiting around for something to happen."  The toy man suddenly spoke, shocking Hespin completely.

Hespin stood with mouth hanging open and his hands waving about anxiously.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  Something nasty might hop right in."  Said the little toy man, looking at Hespin’s wide mouth.

The old man raked his stubby fingers through his grayed thatch of hair and thought for a long moment before he answered.  "So, you can talk, your eyes move and I’ll bet you can walk about, too, can’t you?"

The little toy man nodded.  He walked a couple of paces and returned to the spot, his movements a little stiff, as if he were unused to it.

"Are you like a baby or something?  You have to learn how to move about and stuff—no that can’t be it.  You can talk."

"I can talk, but I do have to learn how to walk.  Its not easy to do something you’ve never done before—I mean, talking is easy because all you really have to do is listen to others."

"I’m not so sure—it took me a long time to talk properly..."  Hespin said slowly, his face a picture of uncertainty.

I don’t have a baby brain.  I have ability.  This wood that you made me from is a very special wood.  It has hidden abilities that I have been given.  See?  I can move other objects around me, as well."  It looked in the direction of a large, stuffed deer head that hung over the mantle, and the deer head swung around the room and returned to the wall.

Hespin gasped again.  "You have magical abilities?"

"Some.  I wouldn’t be alive if that were not the case.  You made it possible for me to live when you decided to make me into a little man."

The Itchlitch was hiding inside, watching and waiting.  All that the toy man said was true, and he could feel the little fellow getting stronger by the hour, and knew that this vessel was unlike any he had ever heard of, but he still had time to do what was necessary.  All he needed was for a living body to be unconscious for one moment.

The little toy man understood the spirit’s thoughts.  It realized that the knowledge it now had was all the spirit’s experiences up to now, and that it would have to use that against it somehow.  It knew that it couldn’t allow the bad spirit to use it to do bad, and hoped it could stop the fairy spirit from hurting anyone.  But the spirit was very strong and still able to use him.

Two days later, a man came by to buy toys for his children.  He had a monkey with him, dressed in little red cap and jacket.  It was curious about the little toy man and so was the man.

"Hespin, what about this toy?  Could I not buy it for my little boy?  Its not like its actually a doll."  He picked up the little toy man, looking at him carefully.  "It almost seems alive."

Hespin moved quickly, taking the toy man gently.  "It is not for sale, I’m sorry.  This is a very special toy, one for me.  I’m old and alone and it keeps me company."  He said slowly, making up an excuse while he spoke.

The man’s smile faded, but he petted his little monkey and began to look at other toys.  The monkey was still very curious, and while they moved away to the other toys, the monkey hopped up to the mantle.

"Go to sleep."  Whispered the spirit through the toy man’s lips.  And the monkey fell asleep, right there on the mantle.  In a few moments the spirit built up its power to leave the toy man and enter the monkey.  It was just in time, for as it was leaving, it could feel the little toy man gaining power.  A few minutes longer, and it would have been cast back out into the vapidness of its former life, drained of what little power it had gained over time.  Now, with a living body, it could build up power and even find another body, if necessary.

Hespin soon saw that the little toy man was glowing again and wondered at that sudden change, and when he came near, the toy man whispered to him.  "There was a bad fairy spirit hiding inside of me before, but it left me and went into the monkey’s body.  We must warn that man about it."

Hespin turned to see the monkey twining about the man’s neck, in unusual affection.  He realized that the spirit knew they were onto it and was trying to make it difficult for him to talk to the man.  But Hespin wasn’t born yesterday.  He would let them go home, them meet the man out somewhere without the monkey.

And that was indeed just what he did.  But the first evening spent truly alone with his little toy man was nice.  The little toy man sang some songs it remembered from the fairy spirit while the harp played the beautiful music, and together, they entertained Hespin until he grew sleepy.

The next day, the toy man told Hespin about some of the thoughts that the fairy spirit had in its memories and they plotted a way to stop it.  If it was allowed to go on much longer, the spirit would be too powerful to stop, and because it was a bad spirit, it might do terrible things.

"I must give you a proper name.  I can’t call you toy man or it.  I know—you can have my grandfather’s name, Seppie.  That was what everybody called him, but his real name was too long and hard to say.  How do you like it?"

The little toy man smiled and saluted him from the table.  "Seppie it is.  It is a very nice name.  I will be happy to have it."

Hespin’s name was also very long, but he liked the name everyone had always called him by and as he went out the door, he thought about how his grandfather would have liked the toy man having his name.

He walked around for a while in the streets until he finally saw the man who had been in his shop.  He walked up to the man and began to talk hurriedly, before something could happen to stop his plan.

The man was shocked to hear that a spirit had been in the toy and that it now lived in his monkey, for he had noticed its odd behavior.  He listened carefully to the plan and agreed to help get rid of the spirit.

They went to the old tinkers well by the knotted oak, on the outskirts of town and got a bucket of the haunted water.  Then they took it to an old gypsy woman and let her put a vex spell in it.  At the herbal woman’s house, they bought several protection charms, putting two on and getting some for the other family members.

A last stop for a blessed water vial from the local temple and they were on their way to the man’s house.  While Hespin gave the charms and touched everyone with the blessed water, the man went into the room where the monkey sat by the kitchen stove, nibbling naughtily on some forbidden pastries.

He held the bucket behind him while getting closer.  The monkey didn’t see him until he was right beside it, then it chattered when it realized it was caught with the forbidden sweet.  But suddenly, when the man dumped the water on the monkey, it began to squirm and squeal, for the vexed water was intended to vex spirits, being haunted water.

The monkey finally screamed as the spirit had taken all it could and deserted the creature to escape.  When it tried to bounce into the man, it felt the burning sensation of the charm and the blessed water, and everywhere it flew, it found the same.  Then it saw Hespin and knew that the toy man had given away its secret.

Angrily, it sought to leave the house, but Hespin had placed the blessed water all about the walls and doors, making a complete circle.  It would take all of the bad spirits power to escape the fiery sting of the blessed water, and even though it meant it would have to wait an eternity to get revenge, it vowed as it left, to return soon.

Hespin and Seppy were happy in the lonely old castle and he made many more toys for children, with Seppy’s help.  They avoided making any more special toys with special wood, since Seppy could tell when wood was special in that way.

They soon forgot the Itchlitch and Hespin lived until he was a hundred and three.  When the next time arrived for the Itchlitch’s revenge, it would be to bring back Hespin into another body, just so he could get even with him... but that is another story.

"Well...it is done..."   Joruma stared up at the tower fearfully, but suddenly smiled as it definitely glowed with more brightness than it had for the wizard.

He moved back to his position before the stone and waited for the king to direct the wizard to his next tale.

"That was beautifully told, Joruma.   The ancient ones used to sing the tales, as you do.   Perhaps it helps in the telling of a tale, even if it would be a poor tale.   But that was no poor tale.   It brought images that were rich and full of the imagination of life."   He thought for a moment and looked at the wizard.

"Perhaps you should tell a tale of strangeness, rather than the usual.   These kind of tales are common and often told.   That may be why they get only small reactions from the towers of fate."

Lars moved back to the alter, his mind rummaging slowly through his memories for a strange tale.   The mist hovered unsteadily, its images fleeting and unclear.   Then his forehead smoothed and he smiled slyly.

"Ah.   I think I have the perfect tale then.   It is named CALL TO FREEDOM and is about a very strange place I have never seen, but have only dreamed of.   I can’t remember exactly how I came to know this tale, but it burns true."

As his strong voice rose steadily with his tale, the mist rose and began to reveal a strange place with tents and shack like buildings within a walled in village or town, while the gathered watchers gasped, either in dismay or shock.

Karolin approached the barrier of the village prison compound, looking in all directions.  The guards were widely spread out, due to their numbers having been thinned by planned diversionary tactics.

As she hurried  back to the hut which she shared with a stranger and his children, she spotted Lora Jane Knickles, washing her family’s few items of clothing, outside their hut.

"Lora, are you sure you guys won’t go with us?  I hate being the only one from our family to escape."

Small and thin, Lora placed her basket of finished wash down with a plunk.  "No.  We’ve decided to stay put-…it’s safer.  Besides, they gave us a place to live and grow a small garden, with seeds to plant.   And until the garden comes in, we get rations to live on. 
It’s sufficient, considering-…"   What she couldn’t say hung poignantly between them.

Considering that those rations were stolen from the resistance in the US and other countries who continued to reject the UN’s edicts and formal declaration of a communist takeover.

Lora  picked up the basket.  "Where could we run to, that they wouldn’t find us sooner or later?"  The question had been asked many times before by others in the prison, to which Karolin had always given her stubborn answer.

"All we have to do is hide in one of the safest pockets of resistance until such time as the satellites can be located and demolished, then routing these bastards out ought to be short work!"

Karolin shrugged regretfully.  Because of the fear of things not working out right, only several people were trying to escape from each of the camps today.  The plans had been arranged by their contact, who had already rescued around a hundred people, working only with his own contacts.  The regular resistance had also rescued many people, but this contact was a specialist, somehow avoiding the communist empire.

If she and the others made it to the jungle where the first guide would meet them, then the rest would be easier.  The journey would be rough and fraught with danger, but possible.  They would have to avoid as many patrols as possible, but it was asking too much not to expect some fireworks.

Some villagers would help by doing a lot of tracking over their paths in several areas, which their contact had arranged at the last minute, due to General Hi T’ Hong’s sudden order of stiffening his patrols along the area where they had to travel.

It was said that their contact was a well loved icon for many of the Chinese people and his rebels were hand picked, all loyal to him to the last drop of blood in their veins, and that his small network of assistants were the same.   She wondered what kind of person could generate so much loyalty.

She pulled her loaded rucksack out of the dirt under the woven mat on the dirt floor, carefully refilling the hole and replacing the mat.  Leave as little evidence of departure as possible, were the instructions of their first contact.  It would delay the eventual search.

She had left a message for Jardin, the man who shared her hut for the last two years, saying she had gotten sick and was being sent to a nearby hospital, or what passed for a hospital.   He had threatened to turn her in the last time she had mentioned escaping, fearing for his family, but he didn’t want to risk trying, so she had little choice.

He was a good enough man, not forcing her to sleep with him as the communist commander had ordered her, but it wasn’t just his children he feared for.  She could see terror in his eyes when she had uttered her desire to escape.

She needed to hurry before the guards who had been sent out, returned.   But she had to wait for another gong to sound, announcing the last of the diversions before she could attempt her escape over the fence.   The others would all try at different times, to ensure that some people did escape.

The drainage trenches were visible all over the village, but deep enough to hide someone who carefully crouched down.  And in some places, were deeper or held pockets of dirt mounds which could act as a possible place to hide when guards or others were about.

The plan was to escape when the guards would least suspect it, in the midday sunlight, when spotting escapees would be at it’s best potential.   She had carefully planned her route, and gone over the best sources with the others, so everyone would be apprised of the easiest ways.

Her route would be over the barrier, which was a fence made of two top strings of electrified, barbed wire, a mid section of tangled wire, all up an down, and two lower electrified wires, which sometimes touched the tangled wires.   Small sticks, nearly invisible to the casual glance, had been placed in several sections, separating the lower fence from the tangled section.   This would ensure safety as they crossed the fence.
The gong sounded and feet pounded by outside as more guards rushed to investigate.

She slung her sack over her back, peeked out to see if it was clear and saw that everyone had entered their huts.   Then she raced to a nearby ditch, straining her back some as she crouched and moved as quickly as possible to her spot of fence.
Placing her two forked sticks in the lower and upper strands, she managed to get a foothold on the wire that was now free of the electricity, boosted herself through the gap the upper stick created in the loosened wire, and made it over with minimal scratches and scrapes.

She threw herself down behind some low rocks just as a guard was making his round along the fence, barely managing to grab her sticks in time.
She breathed deeply, sweat trickling down her back and face and hoped he wouldn’t notice the wires shaking.

The guard stopped, eyed the fence up and down briefly, scratched his head, then walked on.

Elation soared through her veins and made her giddy  for a brief moment of stillness.  Then she made sure it was clear before making a dash for the high weeds at the edge of the camp.

She crawled to the agreed upon place at one of the corners of the barrier, the farthest spot from the watch tower, and waited for the others who would soon follow.

The Travises and a few other people who had been placed in separate camps from their families.  The Travises weren’t considered to be a strong family unit, being dysfunctional, but they had grown much closer since the placement in the camp.

The first two people crawled into her view through the weeds then others began to hurry in.   The Travises were last, the two teens, a boy and a girl, complaining about burs in their hair.

"Lets get a move on!  They may get suspicious of the alarms going off so much and do a check."   She urged them and everyone assented with silent fear.

The trip to the jungle would take two days if there were no mishaps.  They had to cross several open fields on the plains before they would reach its relative safety and discovered that patrols were indeed, everywhere.

But just before they could reach the promised coolness of its densely packed trees and foliage, a caravan of jeeps full of troops nearly spotted them, almost on top of them before they had seen it.  They could hear the commander ordering his men to scour the weeds to the side near them and they scurried away as quietly as possible, in different directions.

Luck was theirs as they met up again later, breathing raggedly.  They entered the jungle and began to sigh with relief, until a few hours later, the guide who met them, assured them that it was by no means safer than the open field.

Soldiers could hide as well as they could, making it harder to get by without some gunfire or hand to hand combat.

"Anyone who wants to go back, do so now."   The guide said flatly.   "Because, after this, it will be too late, and may already be too late, if the commander at your camp catches on too soon."

Fear and desire struggled on each face but nobody said a word.

"Okey dokey.   Then we go, but please be as quiet as you can.   That’s a very important must if you don’t want the commies taking pot shots at you."  He grinned, an Indian who had made himself look as Chinese as possible, which would fool anyone at a distance.  But closer inspection would have revealed dark blue eyes.

Their journey was difficult and rife with tensions, rivers, heat, lack of enough food, thick underbrush filled with nettles and stray patrols shooting at them, making for an altogether harrowing experience.

Part of a patrol came upon them at night, almost killing them before their watch spotted them.   The Indian, Ricco Hevallion, had managed to take down some of them and the rest of the attackers were silenced with the help from some of the escapees.  Larry Travis had been wounded, taking a belly shot and was feverish, but hung on stubbornly.  Two other men were also injured, but able to walk and help.

Three days later, they met up with the other prisoners from the other camps at an old US army post near a large river with hundreds of tributaries along the river’s five hundred mile length.

Karolin searched the small crowd for the familiar faces of her children and husband, who had all been sent to separate camps.   The twins weren’t there and her husband had a woman clinging to his arm, eyeing her insolently.

Ebon seemed to shrug his shoulders regretfully, as if he could do nothing about the situation.   But that night, he came near her bedroll and whispered in low tones.

"Crystal guessed what we were up to and threatened to give our plan away if we didn’t take her with us.   She insists that she continue as my—er...chosen mate."

Karolin turned in her bedding and stared at his sweaty face, his pale blue eyes shifting about restlessly.

"But, we can control her now.   She’s no longer in the presence of commies and cohorts who will support her.   You’re my husband—"

"She has threatened to do anything that it takes to get attention from the enemy, if we don’t do as she wishes..."   He shrugged again, not looking too unhappy at the prospect.

"Then as soon as decently possible, we’ll get rid of her!   Its not fair to the rest of the group to risk keeping her along too long!"   Karolin seethed with the rage that his words inspired.

"I’ll not be party to abandoning her and her children to the mercy of the Commies.   Besides, if she’s out there where they can find her, our goose is cooked!"

Karolin sighed raggedly and turned away, regret in every fiber as he returned to the woman’s side.   This was going to be a painful time, not to mention dangerous.

Crystal’s three small children had slowed them down during the first moments of their escape back into the jungle, causing Ebon to take a bullet in the leg.   It was seriously infected, there having been no first aid kit until they met their second guide.

Karolin fumed at the woman’s lack of care for his welfare, realizing that Crystal wanted to hang onto the man that the communists had placed her with, out of the need to survive.

Their new guide, Rob Dorvin, a small man with monkey-like agility, said they had to wait for the last camp to turn up, but would only wait for two more days.   It was a much harder camp to escape, security being tight because the communist considered some children to be a high priority for their  ‘re-educating’ techniques.

The wait was rife with grief for Karolin, as she watched Ebon allow Crystal to engage all of his attention, plus worrying about her own children, and how they would escape by themselves.   Hopefully, someone would help them, seeing they were still very young.

On the last day, just as the sun had disappeared from over the jungle canopy, the stragglers came dragging into the small clearing, the guide  mortally wounded, defending the children in his care.   Villagers had tried to help them to loose the patrol by spreading out and covering their tracks.  But their pursuers had somehow found their trail, opening fire upon the scattering escapees and killing several before the collected guides—and the extra weapons they’d brought for able men to use—could react.

The tense gunfire was over in several minutes, leaving dark blood stains and agonizing suffering behind.  More wounded and some of the feverish children would slow them down.   They would have to cover the blood with sand, to hide their trail, but the mood had suddenly gone very morose.

Karolin fretted over the man who had saved her children, trying in vain to save him, and Ebon seemed angry that she cried when the man died.   Not understanding, he began to encourage Crystal’s attention, smiling when he should had continued to remain cool.   Instead, he was cold to Karolin now.

The last leg of their journey was a little safer, now that the guides could help each other protect and watch their backs.   But they dragged torturously slow as they neared the city where they would finally meet their contact.

The muddy banks of the river they needed to cross, made it difficult, causing many accidental slips and slides into the river, before the planned entrance.  But the other side had a path dug out in the mud, with straw embedded in the steps, so the guide offered to permit them to clean up as much as they could, once on the other side.

Karolin secretly enjoyed the muddy slide that Crystal took into the river, her long black hair covered with slimy mud with the rest of her dainty figure.   But when Ebon had jumped in the water to help her, she felt a numbness that never left her, even when in the safety of their sanctuary.

The climb up the mountain to the city was arduous and difficult for Ebon, the wounded and some of the children.  She helped the twins while others helped the children that had survived their dead parents.   There were no elderly.   The communist empire didn’t believe in caring for useless captives, and had slaughtered millions in the same vein.

The place where they were to meet their rescuer and last contact, was a small mandarin restaurant, Americanized by the demands of it’s clientele.

The restaurant was filled except for one long table near the back.  They were having desert when their host arrived.  A man—who reminded Karolin of the actor John Wayne, in appearance and manners—surveyed the group, a glint of steel in his eyes when he finally settled on Ebon and Crystal.

"Well, folks.   Looks like you made it this far, may as well try for the brass ring.  By the way, I’m Waylon McKlintock. If you haven’t heard of me, you can probably catch some bit of gossip from the communist run newspapers."   He sat down at the head and spoke with a guide who had come in with him.   They looked at Crystal and Ebon, shaking his head several times and speaking in a swift dialogue they couldn’t understand.

"It seems that someone invited themselves to this party without an invitation.   We don’t have papers for you and it’ll be several weeks before we can deliver such documents, safely."   He nodded and a man standing behind Crystal put a hypo in her neck.   She slumped and Ebon jumped up angrily.

"You didn’t have to do that!"  He stormed as he tried to set her back upright.   Her children whimpered, tears in their young uncomprehending eyes.

Waylon gave Ebon a hard look.  "Why, don’t you want to be reunited with your own family, man?"  He glanced at Karolin and the twins briefly.  "The resistance has found those satellites and are going to attack all of the empire’s holdings, here and in the other countries where they’ve tried to takeover.   So, you will be winging your way to freedom, in Scotland.

"After the resistance has routed out all the fleeing army, then you can return to your life, with your wife and children.   That is what you want, isn’t it?"   His attitude was challenging.

Ebon glared defiantly, then slid a glance at Karolin.  "It won’t be that easy."   He said to her, his icy blue eyes accusing.   "I intend to stay here with her until she is cleared."

Karolin’s heart sunk lower into it’s numb cradle.   She’d known he wouldn’t believe that she hadn’t slept with anyone, but to openly reject her because of caring for the dying guide who had saved their children’s lives…her mind refused to work, allowing only the play of anger in his insolent stance.

They left for the movie company Waylon was under cover with—having been a double for his look alike—carrying the sedated Crystal and her children.   When they arrived at the building which housed the company temporarily, he led them to a basement quarter where they would remain until the next morning.  They would have to don disguises and make sure everyone had their papers.

Ebon suddenly began to struggle with some of the men, Shouting that he wouldn’t leave, even though it would surely mean trouble for everyone else.

"I’m not risking everyone else’s neck for a woman who would steal another woman’s husband, nor will I allow you to ruin it for these folk!" Waylon roared at him, and grabbed a thick stick from the wall, swinging it at Ebon’s back.

Ebon went down, crashing into a chair.   He blinked several times before passing out.
Waylon grinned.  "Sorry.   But you’re going, if I have to carry you onto that plane as a drunken bum.   Anyway, you’ll be thanking me when your head has cleared a little…and miss husband snatcher is far out of sight!"

They boarded the plane as extras on the movie set, barely making it through the inspection of the documents which Waylon’s people had carefully forged.

Ebon was asleep for a while after the take off, and remained in his chair for the remainder of the flight to Scotland.   The group was scattered all about, a necessity since many passengers had boarded the plane as well, but occasionally, some would eye Karolin and Ebon and shake their heads disapprovingly.

Tears streamed down her face from the time they left China, till their arrival at Edinburgh.   Ebon seemed like flint, even when the twins shyly reached out for their daddy’s hands, in the airport.

He smiled at them, but his gaze was cold when he looked up at her.  "I guess I don’t have a choice now.   But, you won’t find me so easy…"   He said flatly.

"Why?   Didn’t you sleep with her, Ebon?"   Karolin trembled with deep, agonizing hurt at the thought.

He stared defiantly, his arms folded.   "She was a hard woman to refuse."

"Well, I haven’t slept with anyone.   So how dare you to treat me like this!"   Anger fused her cheeks for a moment, helping her to forget the bitter pain.

He smirked.  "Sure.   That’s why you were all over that man in the jungle!"   He backed away angrily.

"You fool! He saved our children’s lives!   If you can’t understand how grateful I am that he risked his life for my children, an died for it, then you deserve a thing like her!"   She shouted harshly and began to walk away, still angry and hurt, but no longer numb.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around and he was kissing her savagely, with hungry need at first, then gentler, as the sweetness they had shared for seven years, took over.

He dragged in a deep breath and his eyes devoured her heart shaped face with it’s small, petite features and sea green eyes that he knew could capture many hearts if he left her alone too long.

"No matter how angry I get with the worst scenarios imagined, my heart can’t forget what it’s like to be in your arms or to share my life with you.  Even the fearful thought of some other man in my place, couldn’t erase my memories!"

"Its the end of this tale, though it leaves me feeling oddly."   Lars said triumphantly as the towers lit brighter this time, even more than it had for Joruma.   He glared at the youth as if to say, ‘beat that!’

The listeners all seemed flustered and excited by the strange tale.   It was such a terrible thing that was happening to the woman and children that it caused many to cry, but its strangeness provoked fearful reticence.

King Orchelius clapped his hands with the avarice of a story lover, wanting more strange tales.

"I love it.   I can’t wait to hear what Joruma will tell!"   He exclaimed, eyeing the trembling youth.   "Or are you finished already, boy?"

Joruma shook his head negatively, but his huge green eyes spoke volumes as to his ability to dig up a better tale than the strange thing which Lars had told.

Rodane looked at his king and frowned.   "I wonder if there aren’t lessons to be learned from each tale, my liege?"

"Possibly, possibly.   But even this kind of—teaching, cam be fun, eh?"   The king smiled magnanimously and looked expectantly at the youth.

Lars returned to his post as the boy stepped carefully backward, fear in his every move.   The mist trembled also, showing a murky vision that grayed with an unsettled thickness.   He stood silently, searching his thoughts for something that could be strange, yet true.   But his short life was filled with few unusual tales and he shook with fear at the thought of loosing.

As he had almost given up, thoughts began to come upon him, the way a tale sprung to life in his memories, and its meaning soon became clear, its name developing while the tale still filled his mind.

"I seem to be finding one."  He whispered, then spoke louder.   "It is called  A Demon In The Attic Room  and seems extremely strange by far.   I believe it also takes place in some unknown world that none of us have ever seen."

The images in the mist cleared to reveal a house and a middle aged woman moving around its rooms with a cheerful expression and the watchers gasped again, whispering to each other as he began in his sing song voice, to tell a his new tale.

Aunt Meryle always had lots of people around at different times after  Uncle Pat left this world.  But sometimes, when I came over, either alone or with my cousins, Brel and Julian, she would be alone in that big old house.

We loved her house.  It was so full of rooms and stairways, that it could be a pretty big adventure just exploring it, not to mention, the grounds.  And aunt Meryle always welcomed us with open arms.  It seemed like there was always something different in every room, each time we explored, but I don’t really believe that it actually could have been true, now that I look back on it.

One day, Brel, Julian and I were exploring around in the attic rooms and came across a small door that we had never seen before.  Granted, we had moved a heavy crate and a couple of boxes that seemed in our way at the time.  I don’t remember why we were even moving them, but we did, and we found the door.

It was locked, even though there was no evidence of a lock, or even a handle.  It was just a small door.  We tried persistently to open it, but to no avail.  We couldn’t find any way to open it, so we went back down stairs to report it to Aunt Meryle.

She responded by looking in the library for some old family history books, to see if there was any mention of the door in them.

We read for hours, until it was time to go home, disappointed that we hadn’t found anything.  We offered to come back the very next day and hunt for and answer, but Brel remembered that he had to help his mother, mowing the lawn, and Julian would be helping them too, so that just left me.  Being the girl in the group, I was usually game for adventure, so I voted to continue the search for answers.

Aunt Meryle and I did a lot of reading that day.  We were bent over laughing most of the time, from the funny things that had happened to the family ancestors, as we browsed through the old accounts.  At evening, with darkness drawing on, we suddenly found one older book, lodged behind several other odd books on the arcane.

It had originally been written in and old symbolic language, but someone had translated it, putting old notes in beside each page, with references to note where each page went and where definitions could be found.  The other arcane books were the ones being referenced, stoically and cryptically mentioned on occasion.  The old nut sounded positively crazy, ranting once in a while about something in the house.

We read the first three chapters of his account, until it grew too late and Aunt Meryle had to take me home.  I liked a couple of rhyming lines that he’d written in the first chapter, saying them over and over in my mind on the way home.  It sounded like it would be a good incantation for the magic show at school, which I had to participate in to earn some extra credit in art activities.  I wasn’t very impressive in my art work.

The next few days were pretty busy, as we had a lot to do at school and after, in preparation of the various fall activities.  I wrote the lines down so they could be placed in the menus that the parents would have as they watched the play and magic show.

The play went smoothly, with only a few little hitches from the kindergarten department, a fall depiction with pumpkins, cornstalk bundles and fall flowers parading around on stage, saying their parts. A few older kids played the parts of farmer Joel, Nettie cow and a big tubby barnyard rooster.

The magic show was a three part theme show, with several different kids doing their tricks and trying to show good ways to be safe and yet have fun.  Mine was rather simple, although my teacher said it was quite adult for a child’s idea.  I think she thought my mom or dad had come up with it.

I had decided to say the lines in a high keen voice, to give it better effect.  And boy!  Did it ever!  I was well into the act and struggling to remember my lines, when it happened.  The small hair on my arm and the back of my head stood on end for a second, and I felt some kind of current pass through me, like electricity.  When I’d finished the lines, it seemed as if a loud crackling sound came from all around.

The audience sat froze for a few seconds and I couldn’t be sure if they were just stunned or if something had happened to them.  But, Mom later said that she remembered nothing happening, and I was left with the feeling that I had imagined it all.

It wasn’t until the weekend that we all had time to revisit the mansion, and at first, it seemed that Aunt Meryle was acting funny.  She seemed somehow colder and less amiable toward us, which for Aunt Meryle would have been odd.  But as we got to talking about how the house seemed different in some way, she broke down and admitted that things had been happening.  She believed the house was being haunted!

Poor Aunt Meryle!  She had to live in the house alone with whatever it was, and we wondered if finding the door had disturbed something.  Anyway, we read more of the cryptic book, puzzling over its many odd remarks and references.  As we looked each reference up, quickly finding the meanings to all those odd notes, the account began to take on an unusual twist.

It seemed that one of the ancestors, a Luthor Rudlich, had delved into the old arts, having discovered an old book on magic.  He was from Viking descent and the gifts of seeing and witchery ran in his family line.  He had accidentally awakened something from its deep slumber and it had nearly driven him crazy with its antics.

He had had to dig up an old spell to lock it up in the attic, tricking it into entering the prepared room.  Then he’d had to find a spell to lock the door so that no one could open it.  But something had gone wrong and he went crazy for a while.  After a few years, he returned to complete the spell and locked it in the room, securing its imprisonment even beyond the life of the house.

For even if the house were destroyed and another built in its place, there would be a secret room where it existed, unable to escape.  Only the spells that had been created, could release, if said in reverse.

And who would be foolish enough to do that?

We had to stop reading the book as it was getting dark again, but we left before Aunt Meryle had to drive us home, not wanting to trouble her with the way things were with her.  We promised to return the next day, to finish the book and see if the odd things would occur while we were there.

The next day, things did start happening, but they seemed so funny that we weren’t really upset.  I had brought my dog with me, thinking he would sniff out any odd things that might be hanging around.  As soon as I let him go, he scampered off in a wild hunt, as if he were chasing a rabbit.

We found him sitting in Aunt Meryle’s rocking chair, a sweater wrapped around his shoulders, just like her, and  a book sitting propped up against the arm of the rocker.  He seemed to be reading it, but a few puppy calls to him and he bounced down and ran to me, licking my face vigorously.

Aunt Meryle said that the things happening weren’t so scary as much as they were aggravating.  It was at that time that we began to wonder if Luthor Rudlich wasn’t just a whole lot mental, making mountains out of molehills.  His account of the incident had disturbed her, making her extremely nervous at the idea of a terrible thing getting loose.

As the days went by, we began to see a pattern to its capriciousness.  The tricks it pulled could be said to be a way of getting attention, if it were a child.  And that started us wondering about its nature.  Being kids, we wanted to talk to it, see what it was like, maybe even form a kind of relationship.

We searched the book for a reference that would open the door and allow us to talk to it without releasing it.  But the only reference was the one that closed it.

Then I came up with the idea of saying the closing ritual in reverse, like the room spell which had been put on the room to contain it.  By the time I had worked out the reverse lines, I realized that it sounded an awful lot like the lines I had used in the magic show... Something clicked inside my head, just like fingers snapping.  It was the same lines!

Excitedly, I tore my way up toward the attic with the boys and Aunt Meryle in tow.  I hadn’t said anything about it, just in case I was wrong.

The door was ajar.

We slowly and fearfully pushed it open wider, wanting to look around before we entered.  The room was empty, save for a small box in the corner.  It looked like a toy music pop-up box.  You know, like the ones they used to give small children.  You wound it up and turned the handle to play the music. Near the end of the music, the top would pop and a clown or some such thing would pop up suddenly.

I looked at it, wondering at such an oddity in the room.  But if our theories were right, then the thing in the room was a young thing, like a child.  So maybe it liked toys like the crank up music pop box.  That gave me another idea.

"Brel, Julian, why don’t we go home and get some of our old toys.  I’ll bet it would like some of them.  Maybe it will put in an appearance."

We agreed to do that, taking about an hour.  When we got back to the mansion and in the attic, we carefully placed the toys near the box and sat waiting.  But nothing happened that day, at least, not while we were there.  It did seem that the things had been moved about, when we returned the next day.

Aunt Meryle  wasn’t sure that we should try to speak to it, seeing it liked to pull tricks and odd little things about the house.  She was still afraid.  The book had had such horrible things to say about what kind of creature it was, even though there was no evidence in the book to show how the old man had come up with his hypothesis.  What he had clearly shown, was that it had been so much like a child, that he had been able to trick it with toys.

About a month after we had found the door, with the November winds howling into a snow storm, we were once again sitting in the room, almost forgetting it altogether, while we played a few games of poker and gin rummy.  We heard a creaking noise near the corner and looked.

The toys were moving, as if something sat there playing with them.  It was growing accustomed to us coming to its room and playing there.  Aunt Meryle said that the tricks and odd occurrences had almost stopped completely, with only a few things happening once in a while, to her cat or to her favorite things.

I decided to try speaking to it.

"Hey.  Who ever you are, do you want to play cards with us?"  It was a simple question, but it seemed to have frightened it a lot.  The toys suddenly went in every direction, scattered about.  It didn’t put in another appearance for several days, afterward.

We were once again playing cards, sitting in a sort of circle, but had left a space open.  Suddenly the cards lifted, when the turn was over, and they were being shuffled. Cards for each of us began to flip before us, with an extra place at the space.  We just acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and continued to play, eyeing each other once in a while.

It seemed to be a good card player, and we wondered curiously how it had learned to play cards, seeing it had been shut away for so long.  But we shelved speaking to it again, until it was more used to us.  At the end of the day, we left, saying good-bye to Aunt Meryle in front of it and adding it in a round about way to our parting conversation.  There was a tug on my pocket, just as I turned to go.

I looked down at my pocket.  There was a small wadded piece of paper going into my pocket, looking like Aunt Meryle’s stationary.  It dropped in and then the tugging was gone.  "Bye."  I whispered.  Air went by my ear, but not a sound.

At home I read the note.

‘You not bad.  I like.  Please you play with Emon?  Emon can’t talk with people.  Body locked in bad spell in the dark scary place.  Door open.  Now Emon mind body go anywhere.  Not lonely anymore.  Please, you Play?  I be good.’

I sat for a long time, tears pouring down my face.  It was a child and the frightened old man had locked it away because he didn’t understand it.  He had assumed it was a bad thing because of his fears.

I couldn’t wait for the next day to come.  I had the reversal spell all worked out, having copied the lines for the room spell.  I planned to release it as soon as I could.  The poor thing shouldn’t have to suffer one moment longer than necessary.

The next day, I ran over to the house before the boys were due to come home from school.  Aunt Meryle had things to do in the kitchen, so I had the time alone that I needed.  I knew they would have tried to dissuade me, still having a measure of fear.

I chanted the spell in a high keen tone, like before at the school magic show.  My voice seem to raise in cadence of its own accord, lifting each syllable and sound like a strange song.

Then, a sound of things rustling, like silken curtains falling all around and coming loose from their rods, spilled into the room. The room became very still.  And, as I was turning to go back down stairs, wanting to give it time to adjust to its new situation, a tug on my pocket caused me to turn in time to see something disappear.

It was about my own height, long stringy hair and a paperish brown skin.  It wore what looked like an old feed sack over its body.  But it was ugly.  Big moles on its face and a huge nose, with large rolling eyes.  Its teeth were like a wolf’s and there was a kind of hairiness about its body.  But it had been smiling.

"You good friend.  I not forget."  It whispered as it left the room, closing the door.  It was invisible, but the door closing had been its way of letting me know that it was leaving the room that had been its prison.

Aunt Meryle was unsettled when I came down stairs.  She had seen something near the stove, tasting the remains of her soup.  Then the pot had tipped and the soup disappeared.

"Its the creature."  I said simply.

She stared at me, suspicion flaring in her eyes then crystallizing.  "You released it, didn’t you?  I knew you were up to something.  I just knew it!"  She looked around fearfully, searching for a shadow or hint of its presence.

"Aunt Meryle, Its a lonely little child.  Its so happy to be released that it has promised to be good, if we’ll just play with it and treat it right."  I tried to reassure her, allaying some of her fear.

"Well.  I just don’t know if I can stay here with something like this running around loose.  We don’t really know what it will do, you know."  She whispered, darting a searching glance around the room.

"Relax, Aunt Meryle.  If you want, I’ll ask my parents if I can stay, and the boys probably will too.  We won’t leave you alone to face this situation until you get used to it."

She visibly relaxed, then looked guilty as she smiled nervously at me.  "I’m sorry for being such a big baby about this.  But, Luthor Rudlich seemed to be very adamant about his descriptions of the creature.  I just think you ought to have consulted an expert before you went and did this."

"I believe it is something that nobody has taken the time to learn about.  Maybe something that lives around us and sometimes puts in an appearance, out of curiosity about us.  What can the experts say about something they know very little about."

Aunt Meryle stubbornly refused to listen.  "But you don’t know this for sure.  Honey, there are stranger things than you can imagine, hidden from you very eyes, that exist all around us.  It is just an example."

"Well, I probably know as much as they do.  We can learn, now.  Emon is happy to be free and will welcome company, if we always treat it well and remember that its a child."  I passed her the note it had given me.

She stood reading the note, then just as I had been effected by it, she began to cry.  At first, a small trickle down her cheek, then it poured.

"I didn’t know."  She gasped between sobs.  "I had no idea."  We stood there like that for a long time, till she dried her tears and handed the note back to me.  "Poor little mite.  Its probably very hungry, after being locked away for so long."

She moved back to her kitchen, humming a little song that she used to when Uncle Pat was alive.  She put another pot on the stove and made a thick stew from some left over pot roast.  When she was done, she offered me some, which I sat down at the table to eat.  Then she poured out another helping and placed the bowl on the table.  She took the other seat, across from me.

At first, Emon sat down invisible.  But as Aunt Meryle hummed again, it began to take shape, picking up the spoon, like me, and eating.  We sat in silence except for Aunt Meryle’s humming, and ate the stew.

When we were done, Emon looked at me and smiled.  "You play now?  Play cards?"  The deck of cards were suddenly in its hands and the dishes went to the sink and washed in the sudsy water while it dealt out the cards.

Aunt Meryle’s eyes rolled a little, but she kept her fear down.  We played cards till the boys arrived, then it disappeared.  We told them what had happened, avoiding the part where Aunt Meryle cried about the note.  They were surprised, but accepted the situation without question, excited about meeting the creature.

It didn’t occur until an hour later.  We were again playing, this time at the living room coffee table.  We were in the middle of a checkers game, when it suddenly was standing there, holding the toys we had given it.  It sat down in the middle of the floor and began to play, like any other child would.  Aunt Meryle looked on fondly, suddenly seeming happier than I had seen her in a long time.

When we left that evening, Emon said good-bye shyly, obviously not wishing to see us go.  But it didn’t disappear when we were gone.  Aunt Meryle said that it had stayed with her until she went to bed, then it wandered about the house as if searching for something.

We formed a closer friendship with Emon as the winter went by, keeping her presence a secret.  Aunt Meryle made a bed in the extra room for her, and made better clothes that Emon seemed very proud of.  She had informed me that she was a girl too, when she followed me to the bathroom and saw that I was having my monthly menstrual cycle.  She said she wouldn’t go through that for another two of her years.  Years she could now approach faster, being loosed from her prison.

We had grown very fond of her and she of us, and Aunt Meryle loved having her around, now that she knew Emon needed her and us.  The winter sped by fast and spring brought out some changes in her.  She actually molted and shed her skin, like a snake, plus she would go through a stage of heat, like cats and dogs, when she was in her teens.  But seeing that there were none of her kind around, she said that she would have to return to her people, for a while, or suffer tremendously.

Late spring, something happened that ended it all.  One night, with the wind howling like a crazy thing and the lights flickering in and out, a loud rumbling and thunderous noise erupted in the living room, where we were playing cards with her.

Suddenly, there were several huge ugly shapes standing around, glaring at us and seeming  ready to pounce upon us, but she jumped up and got between us and them, ready to defend us from them.

The room was filled with fear and tension, we scared out of our wits and afraid for her as well as ourselves.  But she spoke to them in another unintelligible language, speaking for a long time.  Then they put their hands on her and all seemed to speak together.

She finally turned to us sadly.  "I have to go.  They are family.  I was stolen when I was baby, by your ancestor’s accidental spell.  But me explained to them that you released me and took good care of me up to now.  They say it make up for crime of ancestor, but be careful with bad spells, or they come and make you pay."  She hugged us all and left a small gift with Aunt Meryle.  A cameo with her picture in it, that we had taken of her.

"I never forget my friends.  Maybe I come back, sometime.  If family let me."

They disappeared in a puff of odorific smoke.  They did smell pretty funny.  But we all sat in stunned silence and sudden loneliness. Aunt Meryle sobbed quietly for a while, holding the cameo clutched to her heart.  Then, as if we had made a silent pact, we all got up and separated for the day.  We didn’t explore the mansion anymore, but I did stop by Aunt Meryle’s as often as I could, to check up on her and make sure she was doing well.

She went back to having breakfast meetings and luncheon bridge games with the community ladies and trying to put her life back into some semblance of normal.

The boys never mentioned the attic creature again and we silently agreed to not explore some of the ideas that had sprung up during our short tour with what Luthor Rudlich had termed as a Demon.  Life had changed for all of us, but again it was as normal as a kid could want.

"That seems to be all of it.   I think it is passing strange, don’t you?"   He turned to the gathering with a questioning glance, then peered back to see the towers glowing fervently.

"You seem to have beaten me once again, boy!"   Lars growled as he swung back to the alter, ready to take up where the boy left off.

The watchers were still shocked and awed by Joruma’s tale and excitedly turned to await Lars’ next offering.

King Orchelius was clapping again, patting the boy on the back.   "You have the truer gift, I am believing.   That one seemed to fall on you like a vision, imparting a tale the way the ancients received them.   You may be a clairvoyant tale bearer, who gets his tales from the spirit world."

Lars harumphed loudly, impatient to get into his next tale.   "We will see who wins though, spirit tale bearer or not!"   He was almost glaring at the king for his praise on the boy, despite the sure knowledge that the king could decide to end the contest with an order to kill him.

The king nodded for him to continue, his countenance somewhat hostile, but quickly mellowed as the wizard began another tale, the mist beginning to show images of a fat, strangely dressed man and woman of similar appearance in the early morning sunlight, before two tents and an old camp fire.

"My next tale is called UFO  BLUES".   He started to speak, his eyes still glaring at the boy.   "I don’t pretend to understand it, but the name does seem to have some bearing on the happenings of the tale."

Louis Andalson and his wife, Carry woke up about the same time, just as the sun was peaking the ridge.   Their camp was placed in a clearing where the tree line didn’t protect from it’s bright rays.

The children were still asleep when they stole away to take care of business and set the trot line again , once Louis had checked it.

Three medium sized catfish had hung themselves up on the thirty foot trot line attached to a small anchored buoy while the bait had been taken by small fry, on the other hooks.

They were cleaning up the breakfast dishes and the children were gathering the gear for the hike up into the hills to hunt for rare plants, when a large shadow fell over them, blocking out the sunlight.

Louis glanced at Carry’s face and knew instantly that she was hearing the same voice inside her head as he, telling them not to be afraid.

In the next instant, they were being sucked up by a bright beam, their bodies paralyzed.

The children looked terrified, their mute expressions held in a ghastly shape of horror.   Carry’s wasn’t much different, and he knew his must be the same.

The section of the large ship to which they’d been beamed to, was in darkness except for a small beam of light in what must be the center.

It seemed as if they stood like that for hours before he felt fingers touching him in an exploratory manner.   He couldn’t see anything but the beam of light and his family’s faces, still frozen in grim masks of terror.

They were moved by strong hands that lifted them easily, taking them to tables that had been nearby.

After straps had tied him down, leaving only a little mobility, he felt the paralysis leave him and tried to look around.

His head was resting in a cradle of some sort and wouldn’t permit him to turn his head much, but he could see Carry next to him on another table, about two feet away and the children beyond her.

The light brightened and widened to include all of the tables, seconds before a head popped into view above his own, startling him.

>I’m not going to hurt you.<   A voice said soothingly inside his head as he studied the unusual face above him.

"How many others have you said that to?"   He couldn’t resist asking.

>None.   You are the first humans we have contacted.<   The eyes were a bluish color, like an infant’s at birth.

"Sure.   And nobody else has ever been abducted before, right?"   Sarcasm dripped off his tongue, despite his fear.

>The only other species to contact your race, are the renegade crossbreeds-…and they have been rounded up and sent to a prison sector for disobeying direct orders.<

The pale face did have largish eyes, but not like the beings described by other abductees.   It’s body was covered by a soft-looking shimmering cloth of pastel colors, but seemed close to human form.

"Then who has been abducting people and doing crazy things to them?"   He asked, feeling angry.

The face seemed to smile.  >You humans have a very fertile imagination.   There are many things you do not know of yet because your technology isn’t advanced enough.   Some very interesting interpretations have erupted from simple experiences with gaseous clouds.<

"By jeepers!   I know better than that!   Our skies are filled with-…"
>Biological effects your technology can’t pick up, but are just as natural to your world as you are,-…as your lightening.<

Louis gaped at the creature for a moment, stunned at it’s words.   It sounded like a pro- government flunky.

"And what about the blips the radar have picked up sometimes?"

He suddenly realized that the creature had been doing things to his body as he felt a ticklish sensation near his abdomen.

"Hey!   What are you doing to me?"   He felt the terror now that he’d seen on his children’s faces.

>Relax.   An examination of your anatomy is so much clearer by detailed study and you won’t feel any pain.<   The creature paused a moment and looked him in the eyes.   >And to answer your former question, your atmosphere has several natural elements in it that create several types of blip-like gasses.   Those which form shapes and bounce around, sometimes glowing and those which react with lightening.   The lightening affected gasses will explode upon contact with anything, sometimes changing the object which it interacts with.<

"And the people who have come in contact with these…gasses?"   He asked, his voice getting sarcastic again.

>Their minds have been affected, sometimes permanently, by the gasses which didn’t explode.   Those who may have been unfortunately hit by an explosion-…would have been burnt beyond recognition, perhaps assumed to be ashes from a fire.<

Louis refused to believe the creature’s answers for all the UFO sightings and abductions.

"Well then, if this is your first contact with us, How come you know so much about our atmosphere?

The creature’s head went back and it shuddered slightly, as if it were laughing.

>Is it not obvious?   We have the very same effects on our world and have found it on every single world we have been to.<   Then it stopped and straightened a little.   >I’m sorry.   I shouldn’t laugh at you.   We went through a period much like what your world is experiencing right now, before our technologies developed our first gas analyzers.   These gasses are synonymous with living organisms, so why wouldn’t we be able to detect them sooner or later?<

Louis felt inexplicably angry.   This creature seemed to be saying too much about the subject.   As if it wanted to convince him that he wasn’t lying there being jerked apart by an alien being, but in fact, sitting somewhere lolling on his keister.

"Sure.   Sure.   I’m just lying somewhere daydreaming in la-la land."   He laughed, a dry harsh sound.

>No, this is quite real.   We, unlike the renegade crossbreeds, do try to be a little more circumspect and compassionate.   Their aberrations made them cold and calculating
in their visits, taking advantage of your world’s backward thinking to do illegal and unsanctioned experiments, sometimes snatching a few humans.   We only intend to study for knowledge and instruct where feasible.<

"Well, you’re going to have a heck of a time convincing other people that they’re being overtaken by a gas cloud, or chased down by one."   He objected.

The being used a small shaped instrument above him as it stared at a moving picture that hung in the air, on Louis’ other side.

"So.   What’s your name?"   He asked it.

>We don’t have names.   We find them too confusing.<

His mouth was hanging open when it popped something in and pressed his tongue down, staring down his throat.

>Interesting.  That must be what vocal cords look like.   We used to have them, long ago.   Our minds are much more capable of transcending the language barrier, so we lost ours when we began to use our minds.<

"You said that you don’t have names.   How do you recognize others?"   Curiosity was beginning to stir in him, despite his anger.

>Mental speech patterns are much like voice patterns.   Do you not recognize the voices of your friends and acquaintances?<   At Louis’ nod, it nodded.   >We also recognize those that we know.   All patterns are given a signature, so that we can mention them when necessary, in speaking to others.   It is similar to a name, I suppose.   Each of us have a pattern signature.<

"I’d like to see a gas cloud, just to prove what you’re saying about those special events."   He said, thinking that they would balk.

>When I have finished, which will be soon.   Would you like us to remove the growth on your abdomen?<

"You mean my-…heck no!   I need that to urinate with, if nothing else!"
It began to shudder again, but briefly.

>Sorry.   I’m referring to the yellowish flesh which makes your stomach protrude.   It will provide us with much genetic data about your race.   We can give you something in return, if you like?<

Louis thought for a moment, of the possible advantages of the removal of fat from his abdomen and perhaps other places.

"And it has value for you?   I could provide some from other areas too, if you know how to remove it safely."

The creature stood a moment, as if calculating in it’s head.   >There should be about enough of your earth’s yellowish ore in our storage stacks to cover the cost of it.   Then it is agreed?<

"Sure.   I don’t need it anyhow, right now.   I can grow some more, if I want to."
>No.   Once this process has been done, your body will not be able to store much energy, but will be forced to use most of it.   Do you still want it done?<

He felt elation.   Not be fat anymore?   Eat anything he wanted and not get fat!   Plus the bonus of gold!   Gold!   He barely managed to suppress the eagerness in his voice as he answered in the affirmative.   "And you could do the same thing for my wife."   He added, counting the dollar signs.

>But, we don’t have enough of the yellow ore.   You may have to settle for some of the hard rock we also have in our storage stacks.<   The creature seemed anxious suddenly, it’s eyes shining and seeming to take on a secretive gleam.

Louis thought for a moment.   Hard rock?   What could that-…diamond!   The incredulity of the situation was almost too much to bear.   They could walk away from this much richer.   Maybe they wouldn’t have any proof of alien abduction, but they’d have lots of money.

"Very well.   Hard rock it is.   Remove to your heart’s content."   He smiled.

The creature smiled too, that gleam a little brighter.

>You will sleep for this procedure.  It will be hard on your nervous system, so it is better that you sleep.   We will not remove all of the flesh, but leave a small thin layer for your body’s insulation.<

Hours later, (as he was later assured the procedure had taken that long), he was lying unstrapped and feeling weak.   The light was back down to a small beam, but he could see the other tables and saw that Carry and the children were asleep.

He got up weakly, his feet seeming too far from the floor as he nearly slumped when he slipped off the table.

He groped in the darkness of the room as he moved slowly toward what he thought might be a wall.

His hands touched a smooth slick surface, and he began to feel his way toward what he hoped was a door.

A depression in the wall felt warm to his touch as he automatically pressed it.

The lights brightened.   Too bright.   He touched the depression again, this time gently, and the lights lowered to a more bearable brightness.

Now he could see the lines that shaped an exit and a panel beside it.   He was standing right in front of it, touching the depression below the panel.

The lines were visible, but his fingers couldn’t detect them.   Clever.   The aliens had counted on the darkness to prevent him from discovering the light controls or the exit.

"Louis?   Are you all right?   You look like they sucked you dry or something."   Carry’s voice came muffily from where she now sat up, weak too.

He came back across to her, and put his arm around her.   "They took our fat for genetic research.   But they gave us some gold and diamond in return."   His now gaunt face beamed in grotesque humor, and he took a closer look at her.

She looked like a skeleton, nearly.   Her face thin and bony and her clothes hanging loosely about her.

"I think they took a little too much, don’t you?"   She stated flatly.   "I feel like death warmed over."

He nodded.   "That little pervert knew I’d go for the gold and the diamond.   They probably don’t even have any!"

Carry snorted.   "I can’t believe you fell for the oldest game in the book.   Get something for nothing!   Dang, it’s cold in here!"   She began to shiver a little.

He tried to warm her by rubbing her arms and legs in a chaffing manner, but she seemed to remain cold.

"It’s because they took our -…insulation.   We will have to put on sweaters now, like Franny does when she comes over, all the time."   He grimaced at that.   He didn’t own a single sweater.   He’d always been too fat and hot.

The door opened and one of the creatures slipped into the room before he could react.   It stood there a moment, then came across the room toward them.

>I see you have awakened.   Are you ready to observe one of your world’s gas clouds?<   It was a different voice inside his head.

He nodded and looked at Carry to see if she had been included.   She seemed oblivious to the question as she stared at the creature curiously, her thin face a mask of uncertainty.

"Carry.   I’m going with the creature to observe one of our clouds.   I’ll explain later.   Would you like to come, or stay here with the kids?"

She blanched, fear, once again, entering her face.

He smiled jerkily.   "This I have to see.   I’ll be back."

The brief tour through darkened tunnel like halls and several small rooms brought them to a room with a large view screen on a wall, surrounded by flickering lights.

>Observe what happens to that cloud when we inject it with a small dose of ball lightening.<   Another voice suddenly spoke up  and he spun to see a taller creature enter the room.

It walked to what looked like an upside down toad stool, where it got inside it and sat down, wrapping it’s legs around the base of the pedestal.

The top of the pedestal was covered with small balls of colored light that the creature moved it’s hands in.   The lights began to flicker and change colors.

>Pay close attention to what happens to the cloud, and observe the simple radar device under the screen, then our detectors.   Note the blip-like detection of the inefficient radar device, but the real analysis of a good one.<   The first creature spoke.   And drew his attention to a panel where a radar, much like the one’s he’d seen on television, and a small oval screen, showed a moving shape.

The blip showed a target, as big as the cloud, moving slowly.   But as soon as the lightening struck it, which he could see on the large view screen, the blip shot off the screen, but was picked up again, moving chaotically.

The oval showed the gas cloud swirling and roiling while the huge screen revealed that it had changed in color and density.

>Quickly!.. We must dissipate it, before it strikes something and explodes.<   The second voice said, sounding excited.

He laughed nervously.   "I should think so."   Then he swallowed hard.   "Now-…to discuss the little matter of ore and rock…"

Both of the creatures looked at him, them smiled at each other.

>Of course.   It has been placed in your camp.   You and your family will be returned to where we first found you.<

He gave them a suspicious stare as he hitched up on his belted shorts, trying to keep them from sliding down his body.

They led him back to the laboratory room, where Carry was standing by the children, weakly holding onto the table where both the kids now sat.

>We will give you something to make you stronger and if you step under the mist, it will shrink your clothing.<   one of the creatures pointed to a mist that was coming downward out of the ceiling, nearby.

Carry look at him and shrugged, stepping under the mist first.   Afterward, they were given a small pill-like object which tasted like honey and cinnamon.

Immediately, he began to feel stronger, then, like a bear in strength.

"How long will this effect last?"   He asked curiously, wondering if he could take advantage of it for other purposes.

>At least nine of your world’s rotations about your sun.   Your biochemistry is much different from ours so it is difficult to tell.   It normally lasts about ten of those periods of time for us.<

"Nine hundred-…years?!   He blanched, unbelievingly.

>No. About ten rotations.   But our estimate of how long it will last could be wrong.   It could be longer, depending on other factors…<

"OK.   As long as it will support me as I work or do other important tasks."   He was thinking about how it would affect a possible wrestling career.

>It is only an effect to make you feel better and help you to return to your normal life as you regain your natural strength.   If you over exert yourself, you could be injured, seeing that your body no longer has the insulation to protect you, as before.   You
must build your body’s defenses up again, with training and exercise.<

Louis felt sharp disappointment, but smiled anyway, for the benefit of his family.
The beam placed them in front of the tent.   On the ground, sat a pile of yellow rocks and what looked to be jagged pieces of marbled rock.   Not gold and not diamond.

He blew out his breath in exasperation.

"Those lying turkeys!   Why I oughta-…"   Then he saw his wife’s face, accusing and smirking.

"Admit it, Louis.   You just got ripped off by aliens."   Then she threw back her head and laughed in her tinkling way.

He nodded, then looked around.   It was almost dark, and their bellies were empty.   He started down the path to the lake.   Maybe the trot line would have something.   At least, you could count on good old know how and hard work, to yield something.   And they sure couldn’t announce their abduction to the world, not if they wanted to remain in good standing with friends and family…

"And that’s the end to it!"   Lars declared as he saw the towers glowing with eerie power, but as he turned back to the priest and saw the negative shake of his head, he cursed bitterly.   "That should have done it by far!   What kind of crazy tales do we have to tell, to please fate?"

He gave Joruma a challenging stare, eyes icy and sharp.   "Your talents better be truer this time!   These towers will burst from all this power if we must continue much farther!"   Then he took his place again at his stone, refusing to watch the boy.

Joruma slowly retraced his steps to the alter and stood waiting once again for ideas to materialize in his thoughts.   For it was assuredly death if no more tales of strange places and strange happenings came his way!   At the last moment, as before, a vision began inside his own head, the meaning soon crystallizing.

"This tale is called SMALL  DREAMS.   It is so unusual that I’m not completely sure that I can understand it enough to tell it clearly.   But it burns fierily to be told!"

The mist behind him brightened and began to reveal a small, egg shaped thing on a table amongst the clutter of papers and books.   A strange looking device sat near by, lit like a window of light, with words scrawled across its surface.

The gathered listeners drew in sharp breaths and sighed with quiet ohs and ahs as they watched the vision and listened to his singing voice, entranced by his gift.   Even the watcher felt awe and the ringing of a truly great story unfolding.

The crack in the ball- like object widened, emitting a near invisible stream of light, then a small form wiggled through the crack, to stand stretching for several seconds.  It looked around at Sada’s modest laboratory, well stocked with equipment and strolled about, in a searching manner.

As Sada approached her lab, the small figure ran behind a tall waste can, peering through its slits at her as she neared the cracked ball.

She noticed that the crack seemed wider and immediately smelled the odor emanating from its interior and picked it up to examine it.  Wrinkling her small, pert nose, she peered into the crack, experimentally, seeing nothing, then grabbed a slide from her supply shelves and scraped off some of the gelatinous substance around the edge of the crack.

She turned her double G lights on near her microscope and set up her small compu check to analyze the substance, not seeing the small form that crept across the floor toward the half open lab door.   But as she turned to pick up her tweezers from the sterilized tray, she saw a shadow as it scurried behind the file cabinet, near the door.

Thinking that one of the monkeys must have escaped Albert’s’ lab, she grabbed a small cage from her supply shelves, in which she kept his monkeys so he could retrieve them.

As she approached the file cabinet, quietly breathing so as not to alarm the animal, she removed the bottom and held the cage up, ready for a quick capture.

Just as she started to press against the cabinet with her hip, to move it, something small darted out and attempted to run for the door.   It happened so quickly that she barely had time to react, slamming the cage down on top of the tiny form.

As she slid the bottom under the cage and secured it, she stared blankly at the small lizard-like creature, noticing its head appeared almost human.    Troy and Bobby had no idea what they had sold to her, but she was suddenly curious to see what else they might discover at the National Estuary underground dig site.

Her telecom noisily announced the news of the renewed attacks from the terrorist anti- government faction on the Australian National Headquarters.   Why couldn’t people accept what they had no way of changing?  Her thoughts reflected briefly on the difficulties of the World Director Administration as it wrangled with the dying elements of opposition.

Then she turned back to the creature, noticing for the first time that it had two sets of arms and six fingers on the upper set of hands.   She pulled back a strand of loose, black hair and refastened her barrette, exhausted.

The tiny creature touched its cheek and the top of its head where there was sparse strands of purplish hair.   Then it put out its hand toward her, stepping close to the cage bars and peering up at her, almost as imploring as Albert’s monkeys.

Without thinking, she extended her finger to its tiny hand, speaking encouragingly to it as she would have to one of the lab animals.  The creature touched her finger experimentally, then a small bluish ball of light suddenly appeared and when it touched her, she felt static go through her body, warming her considerably.   Its hair had changed color, as well, going from the purplish color to a violet-red shade.

The Central Access com on the wall jangled an announcement with nerve jarring tones.  "Miz Rorke, you’re wanted at the Main Research labs in 5c, section 1, 10. Stat!"  A male voice said snappishly.

Sada set the cage in the oven and set the temp gauge to room temperature, not wanting the creature to escape while she was gone, and locked her door when she exited the lab.

After a sixteen hour shift, they wanted her in the research labs to fix one of their experiments, no doubt. She used a telecom in the tram tube to call a friend.

"Smed, do you have any idea what they’re brewing over at main research?  I just got a command to come in.  Don’t they think we have lives too?"

"I think they just got hit with a new strain of that deadly toxin that killed all those people in the tech formed islands, two years ago.   They’ve asked for my two assistants, as well."  He answered tiredly, having worked overtime for several days, although he was due to retire soon, so he was getting away while the getting was good.

Sada took a deep breath.  "Thanks, Smed.   You’ve always got your finger on the pulse. Out."  Phew!  A new strain of toxins from the new diametals used in building structures, the lord only knew where it came from, much less how it kept re-evolving when they had destroyed it completely.   The metal had been tested numerous times and every single test turned up negative as to the metal’s toxic producing affects.

She entered the tube tram and voiced her ID code and destination.  It beeped, took its bite from her business account, and waited for her to get in the self locking seat, before it began to move, going into the speed of warp two.

In moments, she was at the air locks of the cube tram in the Main Research Laboratories, in Indiana.   Now, all she had to do was catch a central tram for inner city travel.

It would only go at half warp speed, so she wouldn’t get the giddy, light feeling when she stepped out of it, at the central labs.

It deposited her at section 1,10.  Queasy from the high speed trams, she suddenly realized that somehow, her former fatigue was gone .   H-m-m, the little lizards trick?

Dr. Wettacher was waiting, her forehead wrinkled in worry.  She was wiping her glasses on her apron when Sada entered, and immediately replaced them.

"Miss Rorke, we may have a catastrophe on our hands, this time.   This new strain has resisted every known solvent we have.  I’ve even mixed a few no-noes to make a virulent form of anti-toxin solvent."   She stressed most of her words, hurrying toward the lab where she worked, with Sada almost running at her side.  "It’s growing at a rapid pace."  She added, her voice upset.

"What’s the death toll, so far"  Sada watched the faces of all the lab workers as they entered and nodded to most of them, having worked with them on various projects.   She saw the anxiety in their tired faces and realized that they had been there well past the overtime limit that an employee could be required to work.

"A third of the population all together, on all the islands."   The older woman almost whispered, her face screwed up in misery.

"Lord!  Its just started."  Well, she might as well get busy.   There was no guarantee she would ever leave this lab, if indications were accurate...

The oven door opened a crack as a tiny hand dart out and was followed by a small head.   It looked down at the floor and seemed to study the distance, scratching it’s head with slow deliberate movements.

Then, standing tensely, it pointed at the edge of the oven bottom, a thick gooey strand suddenly appearing there.   The goo dripped slowly downward toward the floor, and solidified into a slim, hard, sticky rope.

The lizard-like creature scrambled down the rope quickly, looking around carefully as it did.   On the floor, it stood looking at the table where Sada had left her microscope running with the slide lying under its viewer.

Then it climbed upon the chair and used the arm to get up on the table, ran over to the slide, and pointed at it with a tense movement.   A blue stream of light shot out from its hand and covered the slide, absorbing the gooey substance.

Looking around again, it moved over to the edge of the table, closer to the small  end table where the ball was, and took off running for the edge, jumping at the last moment to land on the other table.

At the ball, it tensed again, aiming its finger at the object, sending a red beam of tightly focused light.  The crack closed slowly and the shell of the ball became glassy looking, as if it had just changed properties and shrunk to a small size, almost out of sight. The ball went into a flap in its skin on its abdomen.

Then the tiny creature turned toward the door, bringing the rope over to the edge of the table with its blue stream of light and made the rope disappear when it got to the bottom.  The creature disappeared with a popping sound.

Alone in the lab, Sada watched the read outs on the compu analyzer and stared with a hollow feeling at the evidence of the sudden spurt in the toxin’s growth rate.  It had just reached another level in its growth phase.

As she retrieved her coffee, she glanced at the lab clock and grimaced.   She may as well make up a bed in the closet, because she would be here until she had come to some kind of conclusive findings on the toxin.   She turned to get the sample container which held the piece of contaminated metal, and was startled to see a small shadow just disappearing at the rear end of the room.

Surely, it wasn’t the creature?   She had locked it inside of the oven with the time locks set on it. It would have to have fantastic powers to undo those locks from inside the oven .   And what were the chances of that?

Slowly making her way to the end of the room, she went around the corner of the isle of tables and equipment strewn counters. A small form suddenly darted out and stood hesitantly, watching her.

They stared at one another for several moments, then it pointed in the general direction of her work table and at the sample container she still carried.

Thoughtfully, she placed the container on the floor and the creature hopped closer, tail curling, and examined the clear case and its contents.  It looked up at her and pointed to the section where she was working.   She picked up the container and backed toward her work table, making sure that the creature was following.  It hopped after her slowly, eyeing her with more trust as they moved along.

At the table, she offered to help it up by motioning to the table and lowering her hand for it to stand on, and with a moment’s hesitation, it hopped onto her hand and then to the table when her hand approached it.

She sat down on the chair, waiting to see what the creature had in mind.  It went to the place where she had placed all her sample mixtures and agents for making a solvent, studying them slowly and took one vial out of the sample stand, hefting it and carrying it over to her.   Then it stared at her questioningly, looking around the room with a swift searching manner.

Spotting something, it pointed at the freezers where the frozen tissue samples from some of the victims were kept and continued to search the room as she removed some of the frozen samples and placed them on the table.

When it pointed to a shelf where many specimen and rock samples littered their surfaces, she wasn’t sure which to get, so she picked up a sample at a time, looking at the small creature to see if she’d gotten the right one.   It nodded its head at the tenth sample she picked up, a moon rock.

Now, it seemed to know what to do as it took the piece of rock and placed it in the grinder, then put the powder in a boiler with the tissue sample and the sample of rustolium.

After several moments, the boiler reached extreme temperatures and a clear substance arose to the top of the solution which it carefully removed from the container.

The residue, it dumped into a tray, and pointed to the freezer, while it took the vial of clear substance and added several drops of potent liquor, coral snake poison and preservative.

The creature ran over to the mixer and placed the capped vial in the shaker and stood back, waiting for her to turn it on.

She smiled at her helper and turned the shaker on.  "You seem to know your stuff, little fella."

The creature nodded, and a smile made the small face seem even more human as it turned to watch the shaker.   After the mixture had finished, it handed the vial to her and pointed to the remainder of tissue samples and then at her.

"I’m to take this, myself...?"  She asked hesitantly, unsure of its meaning.

Shaking its head negatively, it pointed again to the tissue samples and them back to her.   It made a small squeaky sound as it gestured, once again, to the samples.

"Give it to the victims?"   She guessed, and was immediately awarded with a nod.   She was amazed that it had developed a cure for the afflicted people, which the researchers had long given up any hope of doing and had concentrated on a fix for the toxin.

"Are you sure this will cure the victims of the toxin sickness?   I mean, there are some pretty potent contents in this remedy and some people may be effected by it adversely."

The little head nodded again, a regretful look on it’s face, she guessed, because of those who might be adversely effected.

"Ok, what about the toxin fix?  Is it ready now?"  She asked, thinking of how she must try to explain how she came up with the idea.   She couldn’t tell anyone what had just happened here.   They would find it quite a fantastic story.

It shook its head and pointed to the clock, doing a half circle with its finger.   The contents in the freezer would take another half hour, before it could be used.

Her coffee had gotten cold so she got another cup and thinking of her guest, took a small beaker cap, filled it with some coffee, added a little milk and handed it to the small creature, who eagerly took it and begun to drink slowly, tasting the liquid experimentally, then downing the coffee quickly, before she sat down, so she got him more.

The half hour went by slowly, but she busied herself cleaning the tables where she had been working.   At least, the morning crew wouldn’t have to clean up after her.

As soon as she poured the dark substance on the piece of contaminated metal, inside the closed off shield unit, a vapor arose from the metal and turned black, but when it settled, the piece of metal gave off negative read outs on the compu analyzer.   The toxin was definitely gone, and the metal looked somehow different, shinier, like it had been purified.

She looked at the smiling creature with wonder.   "I can’t help but guess at the kind of knowledge that is contained inside that little head of yours.  Does that shiny quality mean that the metal has been cured of its ability to produce toxins?"

The small head nodded again, and this time it gestured at her and then at itself, pointing at the metal and pointing back to itself.

"You’ve done me a favor, yes?"   She asked slowly, uncertain.

Nodding again, it came closer to her, its eyes trusting.  "He-el-p I?"  It squeaked and she almost did the same.   She got up, surprise making her dark eyes go wide, a thousand thoughts hitting her at once.   "Better speak I thoughts, yes?"

She nodded without thinking, then shook her head and gasped.  "It doesn’t matter, whatever works best for you."

"Speak thoughts.  Better. Vehicle damaged and diggers find soon.   But you must get, like you get preservation egg. You find things fix vehicle for Elopo. Sada help Elopo, Elopo give Sada gift she dream when small growing one."  The small eyes sparkled and begged in a hopeful manner, staring into her stunned face.

"You want me to get things to fix your...- space ship with?"  Again a nod.  "What if Troy and Bobby don’t realize what they have and don’t bring it to me?  What can I do then?  My funds are limited to purchases within a research show and tell kind of atmosphere."

"You metallurgist research expert.   Troy bring you, when see ship have rare metal., like egg.  Not know value.  Much, much credits.  Fix with thing I say."  The small head nodded repeatedly in reassurance.

"Can you read everyone’s thoughts.   I kind of thought you would have to touch them and do your little lightening business, to study their thoughts."  She asked, curious about Elopo’s unusual abilities.

"He-he.  Not lightening.  Just glo touch.  Nice, warm.  Make feel good.  Elopo have much strong energy from inner strength.  Sada like energy?  Want strength?"  Elopo’s face offered with a sincerity she couldn’t doubt, but she wasn’t sure what he was proposing.

"Maybe.   When I’m sure of what you’re talking about, we’ll discuss it further."  She offered, instead and finished up with the cleaning of the work area.   She placed a call to Wettacher’s private apartments, leaving a message on the telecom for her to get as soon as she arose.  She put the remedies in the reproduction area and her notes neatly stacked on her table with a message to Wettacher.

Then she left the lab and carried Elopo in her lab satchel to keep him hidden.  He peeped up once in a while to see the interior of the trams and the inner city car which sped  through the underground passages of the city structures to her New York apartment, high on top of the Hilltop tower, crowded by huge megaliths that took up every inch of ground around it.

There was no place in the world where a tower had not been erected, and the many deaths on the tech formed islands hadn’t even dented the population of the world.  She explained these things to Elopo as they sped on in the blessed silence of the underground tubes.

Her home would provide privacy and protection for him, from those who would surely want to know what had happened to the object which she had purchased from the excavation site.   But her activities may come under scrutiny if anyone even got a hint.

The message that Bobby had thrown the other ball-like object away, came over the telecom and caused Elopo to become very frantic as Sada explained how refuse was disposed of.   The city compacted as much refuse as they could into a large mass, placed it in a rocket and jettisoned it into the sun, to hit on the opposite side when it got there.

He wanted to go to the company which did the compacting and retrieve it right away, but Sada explained that it would take days for the refuse conveyances to arrive at the company.

If they could catch the underground refuse tram that it had been placed on, they had a chance of getting it before it reached its destination.  But they didn’t know which tram it was on.

Elopo suggested that they go see Bobby, and he would see if the tram’s ID number was remembered in the digger’s thoughts, but Sada worried that he would be discovered and all would be lost.   Yet, something must be done to ease his troubled mind.  So she took him with her to the dig site, in her lab bag, as before, carefully concealed under a cloth.

Bobby was drunk when they reached the site, deep under the National Estuary in a cavern.  In the camp, his chubby body was hanging across a hammock napping, because he’d been given the day off to relax.   He still enbibed in the old customs of the twenty-first century, drinking real alcoholic beverages instead of the alcho-non drinks provided for those who enjoyed a tingle and the taste, but no side effects.

His answers were non too reassuring and his thoughts were just as muddled, Elopo later told her, downcast at the prospect of being trapped on the planet he had crash-landed on many centuries earlier.

They decided to come back the next day, on the ruse that they hadn’t been able to get much out of him the day before, which actually, was an understatement.   And with each hour that passed, Elopo seemed to get weaker, slower.

He needed to re-energize in his ship, he said, when she asked anxiously, why he was slower.  His body energies were being used up by toxins and allergies which tried to attack him, and soon, he would run out of energy.

The next day, Sada tried not to show her interest in the ship, but the urgency was growing.   Bobby seemed to pick up on her keen interest, when she asked about the tram ID number which had picked up their refuse, three days before, but kindly offered to help.

He thought it would be about halfway to it’s destination, somewhere in Maryland, at the slow rate of speed it traveled, heavily laden as it was.  He couldn’t remember the number, but Elopo had weakly snatched the memory out of the muddle of thoughts which went with that day, and they made some quick plans before hurrying off on a warp two tram to Maryland.

At Maryland, they discovered that the tram had already passed an hour before, but a cube car with half warp could overtake it in a few minutes.  So she had to spend her dwindling savings on yet another fast vehicle, to catch up with it.

The underground cubes were lit to some extent, with sub lights, but it hardly gave off enough light for what they were going to do, and it worried Sada, that they would have to search the whole tram before finding the ship.

They pulled up close behind the tram and put the car on auto drive while stepping out on the hood to cross over onto the tram.   She almost fell, as the tram suddenly shuddered while she was crossing, but she managed to catch the top edge of the roof railing and haul herself up, snatching the lab bag just in time, in which she carried Elopo out of necessity, now.

They crawled slowly across the top to the entrance and opened up the covers, exposing the foul odors of the refuse car.   Inside, there was barely any light, as she began to sift through the mounds of containers which held the offensive materials.

Weakly, Elopo said he would signal the ship and have it come to them, but, it would take all his remaining strength to do so. She would have to open the ship and pull out his small helmet which was wired to the console of his ship, and place it on him, and hope he had enough strength to use it.

She begged him to let her look for it and conserve his energy, but She could hear a humming already and knew he had signaled the ship, as refuse bags and containers went in every direction, knocked aside by a whirling ball, a little bigger than his egg.

As it approached her, it expanded into a larger size and a side rail extended.   She assumed that would have been for Elopo to climb to his door and open it, but she looked at the ship in the dimness, trying to see the lines which would mark the door, and couldn’t see anything.

The ship followed her when she decided to backtrack to her awaiting car where she would have some light to see.  Hurriedly, she crossed back across the tram, closing the refuse cover and getting back down into the car, after a rushed jump which nearly took her over the side.

She managed to see the line and after some pushing and prodding, opened it’s circular door.   Getting the helmet proved harder as she had to force her hand into the small opening and attempt to find the cap by touch alone.  Snagging the wires, she barely got the helmet out without breaking them, and removed Elopo from her satchel with care.

He seemed dead as she lifted his tiny limp body and placed the helmet gently on his head.  She waited but he didn’t stir, and as she ordered the car to turn about and head for home, she wondered if it had all been for nothing.

Poor little Elopo.   His quiet body lay unmoving all the way home and even when she had reached the apartment and had to carry him carefully to ensure that his ship kept up with her, she felt the inertness like a heavy burden on her heart.

After five days, he began to stir, not yet aware of anything around him and though she tried, in a hesitant manner, to awaken him, he remained simi- conscious.   The ship hovered over him as if it were aware of its masters’ condition.

Two days later, August fifth, 2283, (she would never forget the day), Elopo weakly rolled over on the impromptu bed she had made for him of several large cotton balls and a handkerchief.   He looked around and took in the ship hovering and her sitting at a desk across the room, doing some finishing notes on a lab project.

"Sada. Must repair ship soon.  Using much energies to stay afloat."  His mental thoughts startled her.   She pulled back her long dark hair into a barrette and slipped her house shoes back on, slowly moving over to the small end table where he lay.

"You get things I say...- at hardware place.  Wire damage inside ship.  Burned up when crash. I make conductors...- and extension units from here.   You have many things in home ...-I use."  He told her, his weakness obvious even in his thoughts.

"Are you sure you can do this, in your condition?"   She asked, concern making her soft voice husky.

"Yes.  I only weak in body.   Allergies and toxins in air make Elopo sick, but energies soon heal."  He pointed at her telecom and the wires used to plug into different networks. "Get wires like that, and yellow metal."

"Gold?  Do you have any idea how much gold costs?  So far, we haven’t been able to find any on the asteroids or the planetary mining bases. "  Her eyes were bulging at the thought that the one thing he might need would be unavailable.

"Not gold.  What you call fool gold.  I use energies to fashion it.  Metal at Troy dig site, in dirt mounds."  He laid back down, coughing and putting one of his hands on his head.  The other three were waving rather weakly.  Sada went to her medicine cabinet to get out a bottle of liquid anti-histamine.

"Here, take a drop of this.  It fights allergies and some of the toxins that bother us, so it should really fix you."  She held a dropper with a little on it, over his mouth and he sucked off a drop.

"Can feel effects in body.  Strong medicine.  Be well sooner." His olive colored little face broke out with a smile.  "Now Sada go?"

When she arrived back at the apartment with the chunks of metal in a bag and the wires from the hardware store, Elopo had piled a small mound of pieces and parts from several of her household appliances, like her hair blower and can opener, among some other less important items.   But she could replace those things and felt relieved that he could use some of the things she already had in stock.

He greeted her with a much stronger manner, almost as chipper as he had been before he got sick. "When ship fixed, Elopo power up and give Sada dream gift." He said, repeating his promise he’d made when he had first helped her with the Fatal toxin.

"Yeah.  Ok.  A dream gift."  She smiled, wondering what he had in mind, but not worried anymore about it.

It took only a couple of hours for him to make his repairs and when finished, he got up and smiled regretfully at her.  "Must go.  But Elopo make gift as promised."   He entered the ship and it hovered above the mound of wrecked appliances and parts, then a thin, red beam of light shot out from it, surrounding the mound.

Slowly the mound turned into a round form and swelled into a larger object, like his egg and floated down her stairs and into a closet, squeezing through the door as if it were malleable.  "Sada energize now with energy ball, be strong inside like Elopo.  Take two days for ball to be full power, then Sada little girl dream come true.   Make world better place."

His ship went back up stairs and was exiting out a window as she reached the top of the stairs, waving franticly.  "Hey, say good-by.  We probably won’t see each other again"

"Bye friend Sada.  Not forget good friend, ever."  His thoughts echoed at her as his ship shot out of view.

She stood reflecting on its words, trying to remember to which dream  Elopo had referred to.   Then, a smile and excited light entering her eyes, she ran back down stairs toward the closet, and she threw the door open, staring at her very own ‘energizer’, a magical object in a highly technical society that transferred magical like abilities to its user!

"It is finished."   Declared Joruma, yet once again with a glance at the searing brightness of the towers of fate.   "How can it keep getting brighter and brighter without destroying the towers?"

King Orchelius looked at the towers on either side of him, surprise in his expression.   "I’ve truly never seen them as bright as this, and yet I tell you that the choosing hasn’t taken place!"   He fell into deep thought.

"Perhaps...you are both very good, and they hesitate to choose between two tale bearers which are both the best.   What do you think, Rodane?"   He directed at his seneschal.

"I only know that it would be very difficult for me to choose between them.   They both have a very unique way of telling a tale, and the boy, for his protests that he is a very poor tale bearer, is entrancing the audience with his singing."

King Orchelius nodded in agreement.   "It is what I am thinking as well.   But apparently, this must continue until either one is chosen, or both are accepted."   He lifted his hand and motioned to Lars to take his place, who had been staring at the towers with incredulity.

"I am beginning to think that you are right, oh king, but never the less, I shall persevere to assay another tale of exotic strangeness."   He began and continued.   "This tale comes from legends and old long forgotten histories, once told by another singing Bard of fate, who survived his supposed death."

The crowd surrounding the dais sucked in shocked breaths, none remembering the details of the tale, but having heard of the incident.   Their king’s mouth was agape as well, surprised that one of his subjects would somehow know of the ancient tale.   But he suspected the wizard of using foul methods of obtaining some of his tales, anyway.   He nodded to the wizard to continue.

The wizard looked around at the faces which stared avidly at him, waiting with silent breaths.   He gave them a thin lipped smile, evidence to those who knew him of his displeasure at their equal enjoyment of the boy’s tales.

"It is about a woman who finds herself trapped in another world and has accidentally broken a minor law.   But because she is human, the clan of people she finds herself involved with, judge her cruelly, sentencing her to a dread fate.   It is called Swamp Of Death."

The mist above the alter began to swirl with images, ancient and delicate for their very age.   A village with bright colorful tents on the ground and in some of the oddly shaped trees, revealed the home of the long lost Elvan race.   A crowd of the tall, thin people of golden color could be seen, surrounding a short, stoutly built female human, some pointing to her.

All eyes strained to see the images his tale evoked, wonder and excitement in their eyes as they beheld the people who had been long held to be either dead or lost.   Lars continued with the tale...

The decision had been made by the Regent Council that the stranger who had trespassed on their lands and broken their laws would be cast into the swamp of death.   Surely none would support her claims that she was innocent.   Only the testing of the swamp if she survived, would proclaim her innocence, and not a soul who entered it, had ever returned.

They had appointed his friends to lead her to the swamp, because Terayl Lyn had spoken for her, an advocate for opening their borders to other races and trying to reform old allied relationships and trading.  He had seen the unspoken good in the stranger, which his gift of seeing would allow, but the Council were adamant about the law, regardless if the stranger hadn’t known about them.

Bedaweon and Hermaniase led her with heavy hearts, knowing their friend well enough to know that he didn’t stick his neck out for everyone.  If he said she wasn’t truly guilty, then the punishment of the swamp was unjust.  They resolutely did their duty, but picked up every piece of equipment or food stores that invisible friends had left behind on the road, knowing that many did not support the Council’s decision.

At the swamp’s entrance, the border fog swirled thickly, blocking the view.  They stopped, taking time to put the various items together in a large back sack for her, and gave her the weapons someone had left beside the road, even though the Council had charged everyone not to do this.  The furs and cloak they put upon her shoulders saying not a word.  But the look in her eyes told them she understood and although she was afraid, she bravely stepped into the swamp, disappearing.

Kitty kept walking through the fog, steps squishing in mud.   Suddenly, she felt a dizziness like the sensation of the one way portal that had brought her into this unusual world, and then she stood on a path that stretched onward in both directions.  It was relatively dry, despite the lapping of the deceptive waters at its sides.  No wonder they worried little about her return.  She could never go back out the way she had come.

The pack was heavy, and the weapons hard to handle, so she pulled the backpack off and took out the shortest piece of rope that some of the Eilendari people had given her and made a crude equipment holder for the weapons, putting all but the long spear in it and placed it about her shoulders.  Then she put the cloak back on and the furs and replaced the backpack.  It was all heavy, but better spread out, making it easier to balance herself on the narrow pathway.

Using the butt of the spear for a ground tester, she poked all soft places before taking a step, and slowly made her way along.  The fog obscured her view, but after about an hour of dragging around, she had come to a kind of island, small and sparsely covered with plants and a few trees.

On the other side was a large suspicious looking hole in the ground that had a smell of decay and death about it, so before she got comfortable, she rolled a large boulder, using the spear for leverage to drop it in the hole.  It dropped down about ten feet before lodging, blocking the hole and preventing whatever was down there from bothering her.

Large pieces of old, scaly, dried skin lying about the island spoke volumes to her about what was down there and she had sat down to rest and figure out what to do from here on in.  A fire rock in her bag set some sticks to burning as she gathered some pieces of wood to build a fire.

The backpack held a smaller rucksack with dried meats and cheeses in it, so she ate, being hungry after two days of wandering around in a strange land.

Darkness was settling around her although it was only six thirty by her watch, but tired from her trials and the soggy swamp trekking, she used the furs and the cloak to make a bed and the backpack for a pillow.

It was several hours later and darker except for the remains of her fire when she abruptly awoke, and sensing something was wrong, she stirred the fire, putting more wood on it, then picked up the spear and stole her way to a nearby tree, climbing up into its highest branches.

Eerily, the fog had lifted, but it was much too dark to see anything.   Only slight movement at the edges of the firelight confirmed her suspicions about the resident of the hole.

The tree would offer little protection from the giant snake, if it was as big as its skin hinted at and the skin had been old.   It would be difficult to say how much it had grown since the last molting.

She tried to get a firm position in between the fork of the tree top, but it was difficult to get a good foothold.  She waited.

Not long after she had placed the spear at an angle with it’s tip pointing downwards, she saw a big sinuous body sliding across the ground by her fire, it’s large head swung about, looking for her.  It moved about the small island, running out its tongue and tasting for her scent before it returned to the point below her.

The head lifted and she stared in horror down into the face of death, its maw opening like a sucking whirlpool.  Terrified, she aimed for the eyes, having tied a rope about the haft of the spear to retrieve it.   But she missed and the spear went down into its maw, piercing the pink bony flesh of the upper part of its mouth.

"Darn!"  She spoke aloud, fearfully trying to withdraw the spear.  But it had wedged deep enough to be stuck, and the snake had begun to coil about the tree, holding its mouth open by necessity.

Its body was attempting to squeeze the tree, perhaps to break it, but the trunk was thick, and as it moved further up into the tree, she pulled the sharp knife from her belt and began to hack at a limb.

Shaking, she managed to cut the limb off and sharpen its end, but didn’t have time to clear all the twigs and stems from its length before frantically hurling it into the snake’s face.   The stick sunk deep into its eye, the stems and stubs lodging and the snake tried to shake its head to remove it, but the stick stayed.

Frightened, she cut another limb and quickly sheared it, but she tied the knife to it with her shoe string, holding it in front of her.  The snake was moving closer, training its good eye on her, the loud, growling hiss unnerving her.

She lost her footing just as it made a swooping dive at her, its mouth opening wider to swallow her.   But instead of falling down into its horrible feted maw, she swung her weapon straight at its other eye as she slid by it, slicing it open, and quickly thrust the long knife upward into its head through a sinus hole, jabbing deeply.

It began to fall to the ground, taking her with it as she had been hanging onto the limb and it thrashed wildly for a few moments before lying still.

She had been flung across the clearing to lie crumpled up for a few dizzy moments, bruised and battered, but still alive.   Getting up, she retrieved her weapons, taking her knife and cutting its head off, remembering how snakes had somehow recovered from their wounds, at times in the past.  This she didn’t want to repeat.

Exhausted, she sat down by the fire for a while, wondering how many other such denizens of the swamp she’d have to face.  Then, with a deep sigh, she decided to take its hide, for any uses it might provide or as proof of her battle, if she made it out of this swamp.

When she awoke the next morning, the body of the snake had shriveled up to old dried, decayed skin and bones and she wondered if it had been one of the magical monsters that she’d been warned about.  Her own heavy set body was feeling old and stiff, sore from her ordeal and she worried about the possibility of being stuck here in this horrid swamp until something killed her.

After eating and retrieving her spear, she donned her heavy load, feeling it’s weight more so today, but not daring to loose anything which might prove to be her salvation.

The pathway started spiraling, going in an upward direction that seemed to be climbing a hill, but soon began to descend back down toward the water again.

The fog had lifted a little, to reveal more of the vastness of the swamp and she could see several paths, but separated by distances.  She traveled onward, finding no relief or resting place.

As it started to get dark again, she worried of ever finding anywhere to just sit down, which was impossible on the narrow tracks.   With relief, she suddenly spotted another island a little distance away, beside her path and separated by about ten to fifteen feet.

There was a tree standing in the shallow murk, rotted in places and having very few branch stubs remaining.  But it offered a possible way to get to the island.

She tied her knife to the rope and swung it up and over one of the stubs successful after a few attempts of dragging the rope back through the muck, and yanked it tight.   It was the swing over to the island she wasn’t so sure about.

As she swung out over the murky swamp. She thought she saw movement out beyond the island on the other side.  A large tentacle reaching up and plucking a small rodent-like animal from a path.  She almost forgot to jump to the ground on the other side in her horror.   She barely remembered to give her rope an upward swinging jerk to retrieve it.

The island had no pathways leading away from it, but it was dry and safe, being much larger than the first.  There were several trees, brush and plants, some she’d never seen before.  Their odd shaped roots made them seem like little brown people with plant tops, half buried.

She made another fire, ate her food and stretched the snake skin out again for more drying, using long sticks to make a frame for it.  Then she investigated the island before darkness settled in around her, digging up one of the roots and gingerly tasting it for edibility, she discovering that it tasted a lot like an orange crossed with banana.  The island was covered with them, so she decided she would take as many as she could carry, when she left.

She rested up for two more days, before trying to go onward through the swamp’s maze like trails.

When she swung back to the path on the fourth day in the swamp, well rested and invigorated despite her ordeal, she kept a watch out for that tentacled thing she’d seen grabbing its victim.  Hopefully, her own path wouldn’t cross it.

The day drug on as the first one had, a maze of paths visible around her, but no way for her to get to them.  She was forced to walk the distance of this pathway that she was on, balancing carefully as her body grew tired quickly.  Numbness made her feet trip many times, but her spear kept her from falling as she used it like a crutch.

Once, she came across an intersecting path which was bordered by strange pale stones that looked like skulls.   It frightened her almost as much as the snake had, its smell almost as fetid.

Not daring to touch it, she had to leap across its wideness to the other side where the normal trail took back up.   It was almost her undoing, as her foot slipped and her ankle twisted as she tried to stop her slide downward.

Her bruised ankle made the rest of her journey more difficult as she determinedly went onwards, knowing what fate awaited her if she stopped for too long.

Finally, two hours before dusk, she saw a widening ahead and another mass of land offered her a respite from traveling.  It had mounds of dirt, like small hills, trees and plenty of shrubbery and foliage.

She made her fire and leaned her back against one of the mounds to rest, eating in more relative comfort than what she had experienced on the other islands.

She rested for a while, putting the healing herbal wraps the Eilendari people had given her, on her ankle.   She could feel the healing flow warming the sore, puffy ankle as she finished eating and relaxed.

When she was beginning to nod, she noticed an animal running along on a path that intersected with this island.  As she slowly got up, she noticed a large bulk rising up out of the swamp, shadowing the small animal.  There was a greenish glowing about its head, but it wasn’t turned in her direction, so she couldn’t tell what it was.

Testing her ankle for stiffness and mobility, she tied her spear to one of the thinner ropes, coiling it about her arm and removed the odd little bow from her weapon holder.  Creeping stealthily forward, she followed the moving shapes, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Just as the large shape stopped, staring at its victim with that greenish eye glowing strangely, she knocked the spear like an arrow and drew the bow string taught, knocking it and  not releasing the catch until the monster turned toward her, its eye seeing her too late.

The spear shot out from her with sudden violence, embedding itself deeply into the eye of the most frighteningly huge squid she’d ever heard of.

It shuddered and thrashed about, tentacles grabbing her angrily to pull her down into the swamp, but almost as suddenly as it had attacked the animal, it stopped moving, its grasp loosening and floated on the surface of the swamp with bubbles burbling out of its sides.  The animal, realizing it was free, looked at her for a moment, then raced away.

Curiously, she got closer to the eye, still glowing with the green hue, and thought she saw a rock inside the eye, a slight scar besides the one her spear had made.  As she retrieved her spear, she dug out the rock with its tip, removing the glowing rock with care.

She emptied her rucksack, putting the grub in a corner of her backpack and slid the rock into the bag with the spear haft, not wanting to touch it, because it might have been what made the squid grow so much.

She had no idea what kind of booby prize it would prove to be, but felt sure its added weight to her burden would be worth it in the end.  She would hang it on the end of a stick to keep it away from her body.

She  returned to her camp site, only a little winded and slept soundly, awakening the next day well rested.  She ate and put her things together languidly, tying the much lighter, dried snakeskin into a tight bundle and adding it to the weapon holder and holding the sack on a stick over one shoulder.

She congratulated herself on how easy it had been to kill the squid and felt much better about traveling the swamp with it no longer surfing the murky depths and the snake no longer a threat, so despite the unending journey along the soggy pathway, she suddenly felt hope.

As she had neared dusk, she suddenly spotted the bordered path again.   Its stones lit the path dimly, and despite her sense of danger, she decided to try it, to see if it were as hazardous as her instincts seemed to be warning.

She trod along it for a few moments of silent worry before a sudden scream of rage behind her sent her rushing forward toward her trail where it was now close beside the bordered path.   As she ran along her trail, she saw a pale shape giving chase, but not leaping across to her.

The huge monster looked like a bear, but its flat head had horns with yellow glowing eyes and its mouth sported two long fangs that dripped saliva as it hungered for her.

As she looked back, her sides hurting as she drew burning breath into her aching lungs, she saw it swiping at her as it raced along with her, trying to reach her.

The path converged ahead and she realized that she’d have to reach it first and leap across to the other side if she were going to make it.   With it so close and almost running neck to neck, she wondered if she dared to try.

As she approached the intersection, she began to drive ahead, fear adding strength to tired, aching legs.   She leapt as the path intersected, not stopping to spring, but leaping as she came upon it.

She dropped to the ground and began to roll, the baggage on her back causing her to tumble downward into the swamp’s murky stillness, but well past the monster.

And as she had suspected, it couldn’t leave the bordered trail, freeing her worries to getting out of the swamp, which sucked at her as the baggage became heavy.

She removed the baggage and placed it on the bank and climbed out, weak from exertion.   Unable to move, despite the dangers these paths were fraught with, she sat still for a while and allowed her burning muscles to ease up their cramping before trying to continue with her journey.

Damp and chilled, it was already midnight when she spotted another clearing ahead in the dark.  It seemed to have some mounds on it like the last island and a larger hill or construction in its center that rose up darkly against the clouded moonlight.  But it did offer blessed respite from the exhausting pathway.

She took out the fire rock and lit a stick, using it to find wood and as she moved toward the darker center of the island, she saw that the tall shape was a building.  A large door stood in its center, but the bordered path led right up to it.  She reached from the side of the path and pushed at it.  It was too heavy to open and there wasn’t a knob or handle in sight, so she went back to picking up pieces of wood, lighting another stick.

As she settled down, removing her damp, sodden articles and replacing them with the strange but warm clothing the Eilendari had given her, she noticed the sounds of night birds for the first time, wondering what that meant.

Her food supply was running low and her water jug nearly empty, so she hoped she would be able to find more.  To add to her troubles, the ground was definitely more firm, here, so sleep was a little less comfortable, that night.

Another door of the vine covered building, opened when she found a raised stone beside the frame and pressed it.  Most of its rooms were empty except for a dusty library.

On a podium by a tall window, rested a dust covered book, and a large, adjustable magnifier that rested over the book.   But she wanted to see why the bordered path had led to this place, suspecting that the monster either lived here, or somehow was produced here, to guard the bordered path.

So she wandered from room to room, closely inspecting everything.   In one room, she found a small stone circle, like the stones which bordered the path.   But there was no evidence of the monster, or any seeming way for it to reach the path.   She could see nothing else to indicate the information she needed, so she returned to the book room.

When she opened the book and saw the immediate need to use the magnifier, but at first the words seemed to be in another language.  They blurred once or twice before she was able to read.  It was a record of the swamp and how it became a death trap for the unlucky few who traversed its magically trapped pathways.

It also mentioned several spells that some shrewd and lucky individual might come by if they found the right ingredients.   One spell caught at her eye, its ingredients oddly familiar.

It needed a magic cloak which could change its shape to suit your form, a piece of the Istmus stone from the depths of the far sea, changeling root—found only in the swamp, the tears of a dragon and a personal item, preferably a charm or piece of jewelry.

All the ingredients were in the swamp somewhere, having been stolen from their owner at random points by visitors, and the descriptions seemed to tug at her thoughts.

The book gave a simple recipe for using the items together, using  the large stone bowl by the window and some magical fire to set them aflame.

As she pondered what she had so far, she realized with a start that the snake skin could easily have been the cloak at one time, seeing that the dead snake’s body had dried up as if very old and the glowing stone in the squid’s eye was probably the Istmus stone.   Those odd roots she eaten were probably the changeling roots although they had little effect on her in their raw form.  All she needed was dragon tears, and maybe her bracelet.

Reading a little more, she soon saw that the creature had been one of many traps set to prevent swamp visitors from leaving it with any stolen secrets.   Wanting to find a way to be rid of the monster, she soon understood that there was no way to remove it, but the spells offered some protection.

She viewed the rather large surrounds of the island for any further paths but saw that the swamp was a maze of possible ways to go forward from here on in, sporadically crossing the bordered path.  It probably meant too much backtracking and too many wrong directions.  She’d have to take her time and make a map of her movements, using the island for a starting point.

She took a few days and hunted for small game and edible plants, nuts and berries which there were plenty of for an island, and took time to dry the strips of meat and berries and shell the nuts.  Then she stretched a piece of the snakeskin on a frame for the map she needed to make, taking some of the charred wood pieces for a pencil.

Ready, she set off on the difficult trek of the maze that the swamp had become.

She had traveled for several hours, backtracking and mapping, leaping across the bordered path several times when she came across a path lined by white stones, different from the monster’s path.  Obviously a used track at one time, it took her a long way and at the edge of dark, she came to an embankment on the side of the swamp.

It was sheltered by sheer cliffs, keeping the swamp and its travelers from escaping.   But there were caves and running water coming down in a few small streams from which she gladly refilled her water supply.

The caves were mostly animal warrens but two showed possible human habitation at one time.  She found a bag of odd shiny bits of glass by a small human like skeleton and wondered if they were what she was looking for.  As she searched the cavern further, she found a high ledge that led through the mountain to a place that looked like a picture from the easel of a science fiction artist.  Shocked, she hurried back into the cave and searched the last one, realizing that it could be a possible way back to the angry villagers.

It actually did lead back to the outside world, via an odd shaped piece of tile that she suspected was a portal.  But she wanted to make the spell, so she would have some kind of protection in case she needed it.  She headed back out of the cave and took out her map to retrace her steps once she left the lined path.

Half an hour into the maze of endless pathways, she realized she’d taken a wrong path somewhere and was hopelessly lost.  Trying to retrace her steps by following her own footprints, she thought she had gotten the right path again, but it turned out to be one she had crossed several times, looping around.

Spirits sagging, she took a different course, deciding to take continual left turns in the direction of the island in the center of the swamp.  She could almost see its dark spire through the swirling mists.  She trudged straight ahead now, hoping against hope that the path would continue going straight.  But at the last possible moment, it turned away, her island unreachable by this path.

The nearest path was at least five feet away with little room for jumping, but she decided to try it anyway, too tired to travel much farther for the day.

Terror filled her as her feet landed in the thick muddy water, sinking quickly into swallowing depths.  It sucked mercilessly at her body and if she hadn’t had the spear to job in the ground and pull herself up, she’d have died a slow agonizing death.

Shaky, covered with the slime of the swamp to her waist, she wearily trudged the rest of the way to the island of the library and entered the building, tired through to her bones.

She built a fire by the door, having left it ajar and ate some of her stores.  Sleep came quickly and she awoke feeling well rested, but caked with the brown mud.   She removed as much of it as she could with the brackish water of the swamp, not thick with mud around the island and put her own dried clothing back on.

She read a little more of the book about the magical exits and portals.  She should have read the part about it having doorways to other worlds the first time, but having now experienced one herself, it was simple confirmation.  If she could find a way back to her own world, then this whole ordeal would be worth it.

She put the skin, stone, three of the roots, pieces of glass and her bracelet in the stone bowl, sprinkling some of the powder that lay in the bowl on it and used the fire rock to light it, standing back in case it flared up too much.

She watched the skin melt and saw the glass turn to water.  The stone seemed to crumble and the root dried to ash.  Her bracelet turned black then white, but at the last second, it widened, twisted and began to reform, becoming a beautiful piece of shimmering jewelry with a deep hue in it’s depths.

When she picked it up, it tingled her fingers and as she placed it on her wrist, it wrapped about her arm sinuously, becoming unmovable.  She could feel the invincibility spell filling her and strengthening her.

The book said nothing could hurt her, not even sickness could threaten her body. It would protect her from all harm, death not visiting her door till the spell died, and the items she had just used were the strongest possible.  The regular spell lasted for the normal life of the user,  so it was anyone’s guess as too how long her bracelet would protect her.

As long as it protected her while she was in this god forsaken swamp and during her eventual return to the Eilendari, she didn’t care about the future portents of such a spell.

Before she left the swamp to prove her innocence and keep things from happening to her few friends, she would see if there was a portal back to her world, so she spent more relentless days or maybe weeks, searching the swamp, needing only a little rest because of the bracelet, which she took in small nooks and dry places on the pathways.

Her mapping had improved, and by the time she had found several portals to other worlds, all strange and different enough for her to know that it wasn’t this world or her own, her map was marked with several spots of interest and places of rest and possible food supplies, the runes which marked trapped paths clearly marked as well.

After many days of water soaked traveling, a few more sightings of lesser animals who could be a possible threat and noting the lack of food sources in that area of the swamp, she finally found a cave that led out onto a high cliff, overhanging what looked like her world below.  It was somewhere in France, if she recognized her geography, and high up in the mountains.

She’d have to take a serious dive down to a lower plateau, but maybe she could make a kind of parachute. Maybe her friends could help her find some materials for that.

After many days in the swamp, Kitty, covered with dried, caked mud, and looking for all the world like a forlorn and helpless waif, carrying a heavy backpack and odd weapons sticking out here and there, came trudging up the dusty road from the swamp.

As she neared a crossroad which led off in other parts of this world and one to the Eilendari community, arrows began to pelt the road beside her.   Some of them seemed to be coming at her, but at the last moment, turned away as if a hand had pushed them to the side.

"Go back!   You have been condemned and will die if you proceed any further!"   The voice she recognized as one of her loudest accusers suddenly screamed from behind some shrubs.

Then he stepped out, three others with him as he marched toward her, his expression revealing what he intended to do with the drawn knife he held in his hand.

She continued toward him, fearless and trusting in her charmed bracelet to protect her as it had from the arrows.

As she neared him, he snarled in sudden dissatisfaction at her bravery, his people long admirers of courage and honor.   But he still struggled with conscience as he struck downward toward her, his arm arcing in a long upward swipe.   He tried again, but his arm bounced away, flinging upwards or away.

"By all that is Eilendari!   How can this be?"   His contorted face lost its beauty as hatred creased it and his mouth became a writhing thing that uttered a torrent of dark scathing words of bitterness.

His friends, recognizing the truth and sad witness to his loss of control and possible insanity, pulled him away.

"It is useless to fight against fate, Orien.   She has been blessed by the fates and eludes the punishment set upon her by the council.   She has proven her innocence by returning.   You would know this if you were in your right thinking..."   They tried to reason with him as they took hold of him forcibly and pulled him back toward the city.

Not wanting them to arrive before her, she took another path toward the city, running at full tilt, energy filling her from the bracelet.   She approached the colorful tents with a smile of triumph unavoidably spreading across her sweaty mud streaked face.

"Well, the accused has returned."  Terayl said to the room full of gasping Council members, a smile of triumph matching Kitty’s.  He raced from the room, eager to know how she had defeated the horrid swamp.   Most of the council members stood gasping and whispering about the impossible.

They watched an impossible vision return into their midst, some angry, but most now compassionate for her obvious trials.   A few cried as they saw how thin she was and bedraggled.

And some were now discussing what bearing her impossible survival might mean to their world and what token of a message it could represent, from their gods.

As she related her story to the astounded assembly, they began to express shock at the horrors she had witnessed and somehow overcame.   That her luck and astuteness had been phenomenal, was an under statement.   The scientists wanted to keep her there for study and examination with their probing magics.

"Are you serious?"  Terayl gasped in astonishment.  "You condemned her to a certain death and now that she was intelligent enough to survive, where no one else could, you want to put locks and bars on her to keep her!"  He stormed about the room for several seconds, then turned to her.

"I don’t want to see you go, but I know that you want to return to your world.  I and my friends will help you to make the necessary equipment to do that.   But know this, Kitty.   Your name and this event will become legend, well remembered after you have long been dead."

And indeed, they built her a canvas parachute as she instructed them, with the help of many of the villagers who had silently defied the elders by aiding her, when she was condemned.

She generously gave some of the things she had found, to some of the villagers and other worthy friends, before heading back to the swamp, with friends in tow, now ready to face the challenge of the swamp to learn it's secrets for themselves.

But the name of Kitty was long remembered in many other tales, her bracelet keeping her alive long past her time.   Hers was a path riddled with danger and secrets, mysteries being probed by her unerring canniness and worlds being changed to the better.

"I have finished my tale!   Surely this one will be the winner!"   Lars almost shouted in anticipation as he turned and beheld the fiercely glowing tower of fate.   Yet, it did not signal a winner and his face was beginning to fall for fear of the unusual circumstances taking place.

King Orchelius was deep in thought, still thinking upon the ancient race.

"Wonder what happened to them...didn’t that woman come back to rule over the Elvan people at a later date, by behest of the people?"

"That I do not know.   I only have the tale of the testing in the swamp.   It wasn’t feasible to find out what actually happened later, since it wasn’t immortalized in a tale."   Lars spoke, still disappointed by the towers of fate.   He stepped back to his position before his tower.

"I would really like to discover what happened to that race, seeing many things which still exist today, was made by them, either by hands or magic!"   The king said as Joruma was slowly backing up to the alter, a deep studious expression on his face.

"It is believed that the towers of fate were their crafting, and the ceremonies surrounding it, created by their priests and slowly taken up by we humans when they disappeared."   The seneschal spoke near the king, his eyes going to the towers.   "It is even rumored that there are descendants whose blood was mixed with Elvan."

The courtesans and the visitors all nodded, having heard many rumors throughout their lives.   And as Joruma turned toward the tower to begin his tale, their eyes suddenly beheld his hair and features, how large his eyes were and pale his skin.

"Joruma, lift your hair that I may see your ears."   The king suddenly spoke, interrupting the boy’s first words before he had given the name of the tale.

Joruma stood nervously, eyeing everyone and slowly lifted his hair for the king to see.
His ears were pointed and narrowing toward the upward slope.   He wore a family traditional earring.

"That earring, boy.   Isn’t that the token of man hood, received when the rite is passed?"   King Orchelius asked, admiring the youth’s kindred features to the Elvan people.

"Yes."   Joruma said, his expression confused and worried.

"Did you know that your family is descendant from Elvan inter-marriage with humans?"

"No.   No one ever said that.   I am the first to look like this in a long time, and my grandmother said that fate had chosen our generation to produce an aberrant.   That was all that was said about my unusual looks."

"Hmm.   Then it is indeed an honor, this day and what has been happening."   The king said, his eyes filling with moisture and pride.

No one noticed how angry that the wizard was growing.   He seemed ready to have a fit of rage, but  struggled with his temper with trembling determination.

"We await your next tale, Joruma."   The king smiled, making himself many mental promises as he watched the mist formulate with misty visions.

Joruma looked around, still slightly puzzled at the new attention that was falling on him, not sure whether to worry about it or allow it simply to happen.

"My tale is named NIGHT OF THE SCREAM.   It is about a woman and her children and how they saved a strange creature which had entered into their world to escape certain death at the hands of foul, evil hunters."

The mist began to show the images of a house at night and the clearing before it that could be seen in the moonlight.   A woman’s shape could be seen running into the yard of the house, stopping as the door to the house opens...

Moira gave her son the bowl of popcorn and admonished him to share with his younger brother.   Bill and Ned were three years apart and had to be watched sometimes, because they were constantly fighting over everything.   The younger boy always ended up crying at this point, because he couldn’t win against his bigger brother, Bill.

She paused at the mirror in the hall as she was heading for the kitchen, and glanced at her reflection.   At thirty-one, she still looked to be in her early twenties, friends told her, long white blonde hair with cream complexion helping her slim, petite figure to keep that youthful appearance.

A crashing noise in the north yard startled her, wondering what had happened and why the dogs weren’t barking.   She stepped out on the porch and peered out into the darkness, looking around for her three dogs, who had disappeared.

A shadow moved in the outer perimeter of her vision, not quite clear, then she could see a tall woman with flowing dark hair and white streaks in it, running in a slow, measured way, as if she had been running for a while.

A blood curdling scream filled the air as the woman stumbled and fell over one of the boy’s bikes, which had been left lying about.   She had trouble getting back up and Moira came unglued,  running and stepping toward the woman to help her.

The closer she got to the woman, the stranger she felt, as if she had taken some drug which slowed her feelings and motions.   At touching point, the woman was standing there staring at her, strange yellow eyes seeming to change to silver and deep, dark pits.

Moira’s thoughts were chaotic, many strange images flitting through her mind.   Visions—tall forest with tangled undergrowth, scents of moist soil and mosses growing in resplendent  freedom where the sun’s light came in filtered streams, animal smells mixed with their spot scenting—swirled dreamily.

The moment passed and she reached out her arm to the woman to help her, leading her to the porch and into the house, the woman protesting that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

In the house, the woman darted quick looks about, like a trapped animal and Moira had the sense of something wild that didn’t understand houses or people.   She warmed up a plate of food from the remains of supper and gave them to the woman, then took a look at her scratched and bleeding limbs.

After the woman had eaten all of the food hungrily, Moira cleaned her wounds and applied salves and bandages, putting a sling on the one arm when she realized that it was hanging limply at the woman’s side.

"You must be in a lot of pain with that arm."   She attempted with the silent woman who resembled a scarecrow with her long, wild, flowing black and silver streaked hair and huge deep eyes.

"Pain..., Yes.   You don’t know the meaning of pain, child.  Or terror."   Her deep voice had the sound of sighs and whispers in it.  "You have brought great danger on your house."

Moira glimpsed another vision of the woods, but with smelly rotted undergrowth, old trees and a woman with branches reaching toward the sky from her hair, and something like a dark shadow running through the woods with cold, cruel emotions—a pack of hunters with what looked like antlers extending from their heads.

Fear like this was something Moira had never felt, but she shook it off, knowing that if she let fear cripple her she’d never be able to do what may become necessary.

"How am I in danger?   What were you running from?"   She asked anxiously, thinking of her children, but trying to remain calm.

"The less you know, the better.   You don’t want to attract them to you.   The hunters are from a different world, one you could not imagine.   But, if I do not return to it before sunrise, I will die here.   I have already been here too long and it has taken its toll on me, but it also effects them as well."

A screeching noise at the lower, east side of the house, caused all of them to jump.   "They’re here."  She stated flatly, her eyes changing to a silver hue.  "I must leave so you will not be in danger."   She said with a resigned air, getting up.

"No!   I will think of something.   They can’t do anything to me or my house without an invitation or a challenge."  Moira’s memory suddenly provided, from all the old literature she’d read over the years, fear and reason vying for control.

"Uh—yes."   The woman agreed, but she looked uncomfortable.  "They will not forget.   Anger may be visited upon several generations before their spite is satiated."   Her eyes became more fierce looking.

Moira saw her sons running toward the eastern rooms, to peek at the unwelcome visitors from behind heavy curtains and she rushed after them, urging them to stay back with a commanding gesture of her hand.

They looked pleadingly at her, and she realized it might be wiser to let them look, thinking they might need a memory to prevent future accidents with these cold hunters from becoming a death nail.

Shadows moved about, tall and garish against the night sky.   Antler horns on every head, huge horses snorting and stomping and angry tones in the violent words of the frightening company.

"Lets go back to the living room"  Moira gasped, fear growing inside like a sinuous thing, suspecting that the strange woman might try to leave.

But the woman was so weak that she had only made it to the door as they entered the room.

"Don’t do that."  Moira said firmly, taking hold of her good arm.   She suddenly felt a power grip her, as if she were being squeezed inside a tight vice.   But, then the woman’s eyes softened and she slumped against her.

"I’m sorry—you are full of generosity to endanger yourself for my sake.  It is probably too late—to save you from their wrath, knowing the soulless as I do."  She said.

"Soulless?  Are they demons?"  Moira quickly guessed, thinking of all the other old tales she had heard when a child.

The woman’s face altered slightly in reflective thought.  "—Not, as your world understands the meaning.   They are a race old and ancient, long lived.   Over time they have become decayed—cold, bored with life and have made a cruel game of hunting those who are different.

Almost all of the other races are subject to the hunt.   Non have arisen that could defeat them.   My people once tried, but we failed!"

"Nobody?  What about this world?"  Moira wondered, thinking of some of the big weapons her world leaders had developed.

"Usually, they do not wish to enter this world.  It means death to be trapped here.   Your world is filled with many dangers—the hated poison of your air and metals seeping into our blood—and the burning of your sun."

"Hmm-m.  How many ways can they return to their world?" Moira wondered, thinking that the woman had to return by one of those ways.

"There were others, but now only two remain to us.  Their people cut off the gates and portals that humans used to enter our world by, long ago.   Only the last two window gates have been left untouched because humans made them with a darker magic, long ago.

"They followed me through the largest one and probably think that I will return to it.   I was planning to go back there, but they will see me now and be upon me as soon as I leave this house.   I will have to  leave with cunning and find the lesser, more difficult one."

Moira paced for several minutes, her agile mind planning and scheming.   "Bill, get the shotgun and the boxes of shells, a few blankets from the closet and my old galoshes." She added, looking at the woman’s long, bare feet.  "Where is this other way?"

"It lies in a north easterly direction, about eight miles, in a mountain where wild animals are kept.   There is a dark, evil serpent like road running below it."

"That sounds like the Game Reserve over in Big Ugly.   I know where that is, and it sounds like it’s on the side where the hard road passes it.   You can point it out to me when we get there.  I have a car—a metal vehicle that moves without horses—and it won’t take us long to get you there."

The woman smiled, a slow pleased expression removing her worries, despite a little crease of anxiety.

"It will not be as easy as you believe, child.   When they see us, they will be upon us, and your weapon will be...-" She hesitated as she saw the shotgun when Bill brought it to his mother, eyes changing swiftly to yellow.

"By the winds of Chillogue!  You have the hated metal!  And the boxes contain pellets of the metal.  Yes, they will not enjoy the pain that this will give them!  Perhaps we have a chance after all." A crooked smile broke out in her wildly mysterious face.  "But, keep it away from me.  In my condition, it may kill me."

Moira brought a bag of food provisions for the woman, thinking she would have little time for stopping to look for food when she returned to her world.  The blanket, she wrapped about the woman’s shoulders, secured with her mother’s silver brooch.

The woman looked at her and touched it, wonder in her big eyes.  " You give me a valuable metal, which brings the best luck possible to it’s wearer.   Protection from evil." She lowered her head, humbly.  "I could never return such a kind favor.   If I survive this night, it will be because your soul has sustained me.  I and my kind will always be indebted to you and your house for all generations."

Moira smiled, thinking her generations would never see their kind again.  "I am the one who is honored.  Now, we must do this thing, when there is little time left."

The woman looked at her questioningly, worry again making her eyes change its dark hues.  "Will this not be risky?"

"Yes.  But, I’m thinking, if we lure them in the wrong direction, then get turned around on them where they can’t see what we’re doing, we might just trap them here."

The woman smiled, her eyes silvery again.  "Ah.  You wish to defeat them without lifting a finger to kill them.   Smart.  Very smart.   Retaliation would be out of the question where their families are concerned, and you will be free of revenge."  She seemed to grow a little stronger as she warmed to the idea.

"And it will take a few centuries for another such pack to develop.   Perhaps the other races can come up with a defense by then."  Her eyes twinkled with a human-like delight.

Moira hoped it all worked out as planned, seeing it would be the best possible answer.
Waiting for the approach of daylight before stepping out into the gray, misty morning, they ran for the car, turning to shriek a warning at the rushing throng of antlered riders.   The  hunters were pale and tall, eyes huge in their pointed faces, with long white hair streaming down their backs below the long antlers that grew out of their heads.

Pointing the gun and firing a warning shot close by the leader, Moira threatened in her most serious tones.  "You come any closer to me, and I’ll be happy to fill your carcasses with buckshot, which I have on authority, is hated by your kind!"

"You dare to interfere, little human woman?!  This will not be forgotten.   If you do not turn our prey over to us, you will not live to regret it!"   The deep, harsh voice of the leader insinuated itself into her mind, the images accompanying it of hordes of snakes(Her most hated and feared nemesis), crawling all over her.

Shaking off the evil vision, she urged everyone into the car, pushing the terrified woman into the back and running around to the driving seat.  "Bill, you take the gun and keep it pointed at them, but be careful.   I don’t want to actually shoot one of them unless it is absolutely necessary."

Bill’s big eyes looked at the gun and back at the screaming pack of pursuing hunters.   "Mom, what are they?   They look like animals themselves, and those creepy giant horses...- I could swear one of them breathed red flames from it’s nose!"   His tense young voice trembled as he turned the gun on the pursuers and watched with avid fear.

"Yes,"  The woman spoke up, "they are fire bred stallions of the giant steeds, raised for battle and the hunt.   Their breath can scorch the underbrush without setting fire to everything.   Convenient for the hunters when in pursuit of a cunning prey."

Moira shivered,  her mind conjuring up frightening images of being pursued by these cold, ruthless hunters who could so easily trap a helpless victim, and God only knew what they would choose to do to that hapless soul!

They led the racing riders in the harrowing chase along several river roads and up two different hollows, until they finally lost them in the direction where the woman said the original entry back to their world was.

The road she had chosen had an unexpected detour, forcing them to take the freeway and head south along it to another turnoff that would be several miles out of the way, but she figured that it would use up some of the time.

A few minutes before dawn, as she turned off the detour to the route going by the reserve, she saw antlered heads in the distance, topping a hill across the river.

They weren’t too far away, and she wasn’t near enough to the place where she could drop the woman off.   But, she dared not risk leaving the area in hopes that the pursuers would follow.

"They may not cross blessed waters.  If you reach the river first, and bless it, they will not cross.  But if there is a way across the water that allows them to cross without getting wet, then they will follow."  The woman’s eyes were fluctuating again between colors, giving her face an eerie look in the early gray daylight.   The boys stared at her with wide curiosity.

Taking a deep, fearful breath, Moira parked the car near the road, giving her quick access to the river, and took the gun.  "I’ll be back in a moment."

The boys began to protest, pleading with their eyes for her not to go, but she smiled at them reassuringly and turned to run down the bank, not caring that briars were taking their due from her bare legs.

At the river, she began to say several prayers, not knowing which would do the trick, reverently bowing her head as she thought of the Lord listening to her jumble of prayers.

Half way through her quickly planned line up of prayers, the antlered heads popped into view across the river, and they began to train their bows on her.

Shrieking as an arrow whizzed by, she began to run back up the bank, an instant prayer for help on her terrified lips.  One nicked her elbow and another went all the way through her lower leg.

It throbbed with fiery pain as she dragged herself back up the bank as quickly as possible, looking back at the screeching pack when one of their horses tumbled into the river, screaming in agony with smoke boiling up in leaden gray fumes.

So, she had stopped them at least for the moment.   She leaned against the car, ripping the hem of her dress to wrap tightly about her leg, and pulled the arrow through with a dizzy, agonizing lurch.

The boys would have gotten out to help her, but she shook her head franticly and got back into the car.  "We’ve got a little time to get up that big hill to that point she’s talking about."  She gasped at the pain when she sat down too quickly.

She drove the car as far as she could, reaching the parking lot near the top.  There would still be quite a few feet of rough mountain terrain to cover to reach the point, but she thought she could make it from here, with a little help.

"Our debt to you will is tripled many life times, seeing you have been injured for my sake.  Maybe I can do something to help."  The woman bent her head over the wound, heat traveling up Moira’s leg as she mumbled in a low whisper.

The pain was lessened, but the ugly gash was only partly healed.   Moira squeezed her hand and smiled as the woman leaned back weakly against the seat.   She was very pale and looked ready to faint herself.

"You shouldn’t have used up the last of your own reserves.  I could have gone to a doctor after you were safe."

"You will need it when you are left to confront them at dawn’s break.   They will be desperate and have nothing to loose at that point." Came the weak whisper, silver eyes worriedly watching her face.

"We’ll fill them with buckshot if they like.  I’m kinda looking forward to that now, seeing they like shooting arrows at people."  Moira said darkly, furious at the way they had been able to hurt her so easily and thinking of her boys.  "Can they get into this car to hurt us if we’re in here when they show up?"

"No.   But they can put spells on anyone who is foolish enough to stare into their eyes for one moment.  They could lure you out of the car’s protection, that way."

Torn between making the boys stay in the car for their protection and taking them with her, she weighed the options quickly and decided to take them with her, fearing that they might fall prey to the hunters in some unforeseen manner.

The climb wasn’t difficult but she still felt twinges of pain as the gash  pulsed with each movement, and they were making pretty good headway as the first streaks of dawn began to lighten the sky.

The silvery eyes looked fearfully at the sky and pushed herself harder, breathing quicker as she progressed up the sparsely covered mountain.  She kept looking back, scouring the wooded hillside for visions of antlers.

They turned on a path that led up past a large rock outcropping, coming face to face with a large cave opening.   The brush around it kept it partly hid from view, and they could easily have passed it up if its location hadn’t been known.

"The portal is in there.  I’ll have my people to close it, as soon as I enter it.  They will hear my voice and come immediately."  The woman turned back to them, worriedly scanning the mountain behind them.

"Go back quickly, now.  I cannot sense them yet, so you have time to get back to your conveyance."  She hugged them quickly, tears in her big silvery eyes and ran inside the cave.

They struggled back down the path, hurrying as fast as their feet could possibly descend the mountain.  Her boys were in front of her, running with the fleet speed of a deer.   It was more than she could muster, as she straggled along behind them, but taking quick furtive glances at the lower hillside revealed nothing so far.

As they neared the car, loud screeching could be heard in the distance, down the hill.   Moira quickly urged the boys inside the relative safety of the car and locked the doors.  "Boys, pull your coats up over your heads and don’t even think about pulling them down, if you know what’s good for you.   They will try to cast spells on you when they realize their way home is gone!"

"And get down in the floor, and stay there till we get home!"  She added, her voice heavy with threats if she wasn’t obeyed.

"What about you. Mom?" Bill squeaked with muffled tones through his coat, his voice anxious with the same worry which gnawed at her insides.

"I won’t look at them.  That’s the secret.  Being an adult helps me be strong when it comes to things like that."  She lied, her voice suddenly firm and resolute.

She started the car and drove down the twisting road, realizing that it would pass the riders at some point.   She steadily drove, glancing back to make sure the boys were obeying her commands.

Sooner than she had expected, they were facing her on the path.  Both she and they stopped, she averting her gaze before gunning the motor and rushing toward them crazily.

They scattered as she hoped, and tried to rain arrows at the car as she passed, but aside from scratches and dents, the arrows did little damage.  The hunters turned in fury, giving chase to a new enemy, screeching as they glowered at the lightening sky.

They chased her for several miles, but at last, their horses began to falter, smoke boiling from their lungs.  She saw several going down as she rode from view, turning a curve in the road and leaving the night mare quickly behind.

She had ridden in several long moments of silence before she remembered the boys and let them get up, relief in their young frightened faces.

Suddenly in the distance, they heard a loud blast and could see smoke going up in the place where the hunters had stopped.  When they rolled the windows down, they heard loud voices screaming in agony and terror, lightening streaking upward into the heavens in several bursts of released power.

"She-e-sh! That was close, Mom!" Bill whistled, but smiling proudly at her.  "Wait’ll I tell the guys about this.  They won’t believe me until they see your scar."

Ned popped up.  "Me too.  Roy and Sledge will trade me anything to see you scar when they hear!"  He laughed at the vision that the idea conjured in his head.

"Well." She dragged in a deep breath and a silent prayer of thanks.  "I don’t exactly want to repeat that little episode too soon, if you know what I mean!" She sighed with a long exhausted yawn, thinking of reasonable explanations that might woo the parents of those particular boys.

Joruma stopped and looked about at the enrapt faces, glancing up at the towers which were almost flaming with the brightness, yet not signaling a choice.   "That was the end of the tale, but it seems it isn’t yet the end of this trial."

King Orchelius agreed slowly as he also turned to stare at the towers.   "It is amazing how bright they are getting, yet seem incapable of choosing.   I wonder if something could be wrong with them?"

Lars glanced quickly at the king, a fleeting look of guilt passing his features as he stepped backward against the alter and began searching his memories with more difficulty now.   Sweat popped from his face as the towers were extremely hot and heat bore down on the crowd of watchers and tale bearers.

He swallowed hard and began to speak before anyone decided to start another question about the towers.

Joruma was silent, watching him, his thoughts having suddenly filled with a vision of the wizard, standing near the towers and performing some spell.   But the boy could not be certain if it were merely his own suspicions or the real thing.

Lars began tentatively, his voice not so vibrant and sure as before.   He lifted his worried gaze to the towers as the mist began to swirl and started his tale.

"My tale is called ALONE WE STAND, and I believe it is about a family living in times in which their world is about to ascend into the chaos of a world at war among its many lands.   It too seems to be that world of the woman Kitty from the Elvan story."

The visions in the mist revealed a home where a man stood at a table, making a dish of greens and tomatoes in a large bowl.   As the scene becomes clearer, a boy bursts through the door...

Sid came running into the kitchen from the back door, his cheeks red from running so hard.   "They finally did it!"

His step father turned around from the salad he was preparing and grasped his shoulders firmly.  "Whoa!  Whoa here. What have they done, and who are they?  Take a deep breath and calm down, Sid."  He bent down to Sid’s shorter stature and smiled with good humor.

"China has declared war on the US!!  They said that all of Russia’s former land claims on Mars is by default, China’s, since Russia is now a sovereign state of China, and three fourths of the Underground Colony Project is theirs!"

"But Russia only held a tenth of the land where the project is based—"  Roy interjected, a little less calmly himself.

"I know!  I know!  But Japan surrendered all of their holdings, to prevent China from seizing all of their factories.  The Chinese overseers had goon squads surrounding every factory facility, ready to take them over if  Japan refused to give up their Martian holdings."

Roy backed up against the counter and slowly rubbed the back of his head.  "Dang!   We’ll get squeezed out as soon as France and Sweden realize that those warheads pointing in their direction could just as easily go off, for the Chinese expansion plan.  They’ll be next since the Slav and Polish countries just surrendered—"

Sid Frowned.  "But Spain and Germany are still holding out.  That might possibly prevent a swift take over.  They say that thousands are being arrested and slaughtered in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Turkey.

"They dropped a couple of deadly nerve gas bombs to quell the rebellions throughout former USSR states and, now that they are in control, satellite reports indicate she’s even amassed a greater army than before, using troops from conquered countries and stripping their resources to supply their growing units."

Pale and subdued, Roy nervously combed his hair with his shaking fingers.  "Then we finally broke through their satellite scramblers and know these things as first hand news?"

"Nope!"   Sid shook his head, his young, twelve year old face full of apprehension.  "That all happened a few weeks ago.  They killed most of our spies.  This report comes from the escaping refugees.   If the UN doesn’t act now, it’ll be too late!!

I think China feels confident in numbers now, that the in other UN countries will all just stand around in fear , as usual, and let us go down, if in deed, China has those Canadian bases and the South American countries that took their bribes, as they bragged."

"Don’t the UN countries realize that there will be nothing to stop world domination by China, if we go down?   What the heck?!"  Roy fumed.

He took a deep, ragged breath.  "Well, that’s that, I guess—not much US citizens can do to protect themselves now, since gun control has stripped the country of almost every legal means to get one.

"Yeah, sure!!   Declare Marshal law now, every man for himself!  What a joke!  With what and how are people going to protect themselves once the government falls, h-m-m?  Capital Hill threw us to the dogs!"

He blew out his breath explosively.  "I’d like to blow Cuba to kingdom come!!  They didn’t have to become China’s back door base.  All they had to do was side with us and we would have protected them—but its too late now!  I don’t know why we don’t just wipe those scumbags off the face of the Earth!"

Sid’s young face was ashen and scared.  "You know why, Roy.  We’re all afraid our government waited till it was too late to act—no one could believe that any of it was really happening till Europe began to go under like flies.  No one wanted to be bombed with germs and disease, much less if an Alpha Wave bomb was used!"

Roy gasped, shock evident in his expression.  "How did they get that?!!!  The president promised—no!  He guaranteed that it was under the tightest security possible!  Let me guess—a spy—double agent or some such, gave all our secrets to them?"

Sid shook his head negatively again.  "A republican Senator sold it to them for five billion dollars and now he’s incommunicado."

"I guess they’re bleeding all the captured countries to pay for their expansion and all the fire power they’ll have to have, to take us down."  Roy grated sourly, jerkily rubbing the back of his head and restlessly moving from one position to another.

Sid contemplated his thoughts for a moment and brightened a little.  "We might be able to keep France and Sweden from going under—all the little northern countries are holding in with Germany and Spain.  We got to get some troops and heavy artillery over there in a hurry, and turn on our satellite weaponry.  If tough comes to tough, we’re not exactly helpless."

Roy shook his head worriedly.  "That’s exactly what we can’t do, son.  Can’t you see—?!  That system was invented to prevent hostile alien invasion, not our own people.   It could wipe out half of China with just the first shot—!"

"But—we can’t just stand around with our thumbs in our mouths, waiting for a sign of good will from China!  I mean, its certain that they mean to use the Alpha Wave bomb on us or they wouldn’t have paid such a heavy price for it.  They almost didn’t get away with it—our allied minute men in the Philippines did some heavy damage to them!!"  Sid laughed harshly and smacked his fist into his palm several times.

Roy looked his young step son over carefully, not liking what he was seeing.  Too much agitation and violence crowding out the boy’s better sense. Best to try to divert that stream of thought if he could.

"I’ve almost got supper ready, Sid.  You want to set the table and look in on Marley to see if she’s finished her homework?"

The boy seemed to come down to Earth slowly, but his usual good humor took over at last.  "Gee, dad.  Do I haf’ta?"  And with Roy’s smiling nod, he bent his head and got the dishes and silverware from the cabinet.

As he was placing the silverware, his sister Marley came trotting into
the kitchen to snatch a morsel from one of the steaming dishes on the table.

"Aw sis, don’t eat out of the food!  Dad—!"

Roy gave Marley a tap on the cheek.  "Wash up, pumpkin.  It really isn’t a good idea to eat from unwashed hands.   Besides, you know how your Mom feels about anyone taking liberties in her kitchen."   He yanked her ponytail gently.

"Did I hear my name being bandied about?"  A short, plump woman with a plain face, wearing a red checkered dress, entered the room from the back door, her arms filled with bags.

Roy put down his oven mitten and relieved her of some of the bags, giving her a generous kiss as he did so.  "You better believe it.  Have to use it from time to time to show a little muscle around here."

She laughed softly and pinched his derriere quickly before Sid turned back to them.
He rolled his eyes in mock shock and whispered a few dire promises of later retribution and began putting away the groceries.
                                                           * * *

Later that night, as they lay in bed, he began to discuss the situation with China and attempted to tell Meg about his own plans on the subject.  "The way I see it, Meg—we have to protect our own interest.  We can’t just wait for the other shoe to drop."

She rubbed her tired eyes and said without pause.  "You mean we use our bombs before she has a chance to use any of her own."

He stared at her down bent head with a surprised expression on his face.  "  Why no, Meg...!"  He was temporarily at a loss for words.  "—I meant that we should do something, ourselves—to preserve our own lives and the children."

Her head came up quickly, nodding.   "I’ve been thinking about that, too.  Everyone has.  The women at the office were all excited and scared, talking about first one thing and then another, till they scared themselves silly.  Me, I’m thinking about my grandfather’s place—he left it to me, you know, and it has some old caverns up in the hills, behind the old house."

Roy nodded, enthusiasm showing in his light blue eyes.  "I remember you talked about it a couple of times—played in them as a girl?"

She nodded.  "They’re safer than most caverns because the ceilings of most of the caves are hardened crystalline.  Of course, there are a lot of stalagmites and stalactites.  But we can clear a few caves of some of them."

"And maybe we can make some kind of covering and door for the entrance...,"  He trailed off, deep in thought.

"Yeah, the entrance isn’t too big.  We could probably put a concrete wall around it."

She sat in silent thought too, until a new idea occurred to her.  "Honey, what’ll we do about money, though?"

He looked at her slowly, the idea obviously having already occurred to
him.  "I thought I’d sell the house."

"Oh no, Roy!  Your dad gave you this house—its your birthplace and all your family memories are tied up here.  We could sell my car and my share of bonds that Aunt Eulalee left me and my sister."

"We’re not going to need this house, Meg.   I have a feeling that all hell is going to burst loose and this house may not even be left standing here.  The car and bonds will help, though.  We’re going to need every cent we can scrape together—for a long siege.  It means months of buying—no stock piling.  By the way, is there water in any of those caverns?"

She closed her eyes in thought, her eye lids flickering, then nodded her head again.  "One of the big lower caverns has a large pool that stays full all summer, and as clear as crystal.  Light comes in from some angle in one of the overhead tunnels and it makes the room look so pretty. It was one of my daydreaming spots, amongst several."

"Well, I’ll have to make sure its safe first, before we decide to depend on it."   They slept after another hour of planning, both tired and sleepy.

By the weekend, they had formulated a solid plan, Roy having already sold the house to a construction company and Meg sold her car to a friend.  They pulled all their accounts and liquidated their small shares in several local businesses.   Sid thought they were rich and when he heard of their plans, excitedly planned his own ways of helping.

Marley was the only one who wasn’t enthusiastic about leaving her friends and school behind.

"But you can both keep up with your schooling."  Roy smiled at the faces they pulled, knowing that they were good kids and wouldn’t bog too much, not once they realized that it would help chase away the boredom for them.

"But Mom...,"  Marley began, her lips drawn in a petulant expression.  "No friends!  None!  How will I ever get by?"

Meg smoothed her daughter’s hair gently.  "Dear, tough times call for tough people.  It may be a little lonely, but we’ll survive."

By Sunday morning, their wagon, with a large u-haul in tow, pulled up in front of an old weather beaten house with half its windows missing and the grass grown up around it.  The porch was half fallen down and the door was hanging open.

Meg looked at it sadly, mistiness about her eyes.  "Its been so long."  She whispered, her deep set, brown eyes damp.

Roy hugged her.  "We’ll only use it long enough to locate that cavern and start taking stuff up to it."

Meg glanced back at him.  "There used to be an old wagon road that led right up to it.  If we had a four wheel drive, I think we could haul most of the stuff up there."

He shrugged.  "I don’t know honey—I could rent one, but the likely-hood of that track being there...,"  He trailed off.

"We’ll see."  She said stubbornly.

Everyone got out slowly, stretching their legs after the exhaustingly long drive.  All day yesterday, and after packing stuff like maniacs all day Friday, trying not to forget anything they might need.

As many chests, dressers, cabinets and wardrobes, as other furniture.  Meg insisted they’d live like a civilized family, no matter that it would be in the bowls of the Earth.

The wagon and u-haul was stuffed so tightly with their belongings and the beginning of their stockpile, that they simply eyed it wearily, not knowing where to start.

"Well, first things first."  Meg chirped and pulled out the small hotplate she’d used in her college days.  "I can’t believe I still had that packed away in the attic.  It’ll sure come in handy now."  And with that remark, she handed the toaster to Marley and motioned Roy at the microwave.

"I only hope that the juice has been turned on."  He quipped.

Meg gave him a blank stare.  "I almost forgot—my cousin said it would be, if he had to come out and do it himself.  Of course, those old generators might have given him a rough time."

Roy huffed as he carried the microwave in behind her, heaving it as he braced himself on the porch, where the first step was missing.

The house wasn’t completely bare.  Old musty furniture and litter gave it a haunted, abandoned look.

"That old couch is still here, I see."  Meg eyed it, memories flooding in.  She had hated selling her big sectional, but it simply had been too impractical.  But they still had the old sofa set and a love seat, besides Roy’s favorite lounge chair.

The juice was on and she soon had breakfast ready, having gotten more help than she really needed, from her eager troop.  But afterwards, they wandered about the house and rested, non too eager to start the unpacking.

"Roy, let’s see if that old track is up there first.   Maybe, if we had a way of hauling that u-haul up there, we could save ourselves a lot of trouble."  She urged him after a little while.

He took a deep breath and agreed reluctantly.

Meg had trouble finding it at first, but after several false starts, she finally discovered it, despite its overgrown condition. They worked through the weeds as they slowly ascended the hill, the old road, or two ruts that wound around the hill, not visible in some places, leading them in a direct route up the hill.

"That’s what it looks like most of the way."   She said, a little out of breath.
He seemed to be rethinking the situation over.  "If that’s true, I might be able to get the wagon up there and unload it, then maybe even the u-haul.  We’ll try, anyway."  He was a good one for giving anything a try once.

Meg nodded.  She loved Roy till it hurt, but he was worth every ounce of it.  He was a good looker and she’d noticed how the women had always had eyes for her Roy, yet he never seemed to notice.

The kids had opted to stay at the house to watch TV on  the thirteen inch set.

"Honey, what were the caverns used for, in the past?  That track seems to have been used fairly often at one time."

She tried to remember.  "Its pretty fuzzy, but I seem to have a memory of my grandfather saying that his uncle had some kind of idea about gold in those days.  There are a couple of softer dirt caverns in a few places, deeper down, but I reckon he never found any though."

Roy thought about that.  "I hope they’re not beneath the main caverns.  I mean, if the softer dirt below is riddled with tunnels and caves, then the upper ones might fall in..."

Meg shook her head.  "No.  He had to tunnel well away from the hardened areas.  On around the mountain.  Then he began to dig down deep, thinking to find gold way down there.  At least, that’s what I seem to remember."  Meg ruminated while he chose their path back down the hill carefully.

"You know, it might be a bit hard to see this track in the wagon."  He said doubtfully.

She clasped his hand.  "Then we’ll stick our heads out and look for it."

He grinned.  "You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?"

"Got to."  She agreed, chuckling.

A couple of hours later found the wagon slowly, but surely edging its way up the mountain, several bedraggled heads sticking out the windows shouting directions.  That is, until they came up to the place where a huge tree had fallen across the track some time ago, now rotting, but still effectively blocking the way.

"Well, we’re not going anywhere till we clear that monster out of the way."  Roy growled, hot and tired from backing up so many times and searching for the track where it had disappeared altogether and other trails had misled them.

Meg looked at the children.  "Let’s get out and cool down, rest up for a few minutes, then we’ll do what we can."

He opened the door silently and everyone followed suit.

After resting for a while, they began removing the tree, piece by piece, the old branches easily broken off and hauled to the side of the track where they shoved them over the hill.  It took a while and it was mid day by the time the wagon was parked near the entrance.

Roy eyed the opening to the cavern speculatively, then got out to inspect the first few rooms.  When he came back, he started the wagon up and headed straight for the entrance, motioning them to stand to the side when they realized that he was going to drive it inside the cavern.

Meg looked startled and the kids thought he’d lost his marbles, but the wagon went in smoothly, lighting the way past the first couple of smaller caverns.

They followed the slow moving wagon until it reached a larger room where the floor leveled out smoothly the stalactites and stalagmites here and there.  Meg came over to them.

"There’s a better room than this, well, several caverns away.  I think you could manage to get the wagon to it.  I’ll lead the way."

She took the children and began to walk toward a smaller opening on the east side of the huge room, and he drove after them slowly, the wagon bumping and barely making it through the entrance.

It was a rougher way than Meg had anticipated, but the wagon did manage.

The room she had mentioned wasn’t as big, but it didn’t have as many obstructions either, to be removed.  It’s floor could have been hand carved for its smoothness, making it easy for the wagon to maneuver.
                                                              * * *

He liked it.  Meg knew her caverns.  They had to rest up again, but, hey—they hadn’t expected to actually be unpacking in their caverns this soon!  He put his arms around Meg when he sat down on her rock and beamed triumphantly.  Just maybe, the world wouldn’t come to a shuddering halt, just yet.

"See how the sides of the walls are shaped like little alcoves here and there?  We can put curtains across the entrances and make little rooms out of them."   Her eyes were shining with her plans.

He kissed her softly, hearing the giggling of their two ducklings, but ignoring it for the moment.  "Yes, my love.  Once we have everything up here, you can be that happy little homemaker you’ve always wanted to be."

She looked startled.  "But—I’ve always been one—already..."

He shook his head.  "Not like you’ve always wanted to be.  You’ve always had to work, but now you’ll have all the time in the world, just to be a mom, wife and homemaker." 
He took her plump little hand in his and kissed it tenderly.

Meg’s soft brown eyes brimmed with tears.  "I—I didn’t realize you knew me so well, darling.  I thought us women had the market cornered on being the understanding ones."

He smiled softly, his eyes moist looking too.   "We men sometimes learn how when we are so lucky and have someone to love us like you love me and the children."

Then he turned to the kids and spoke up loud enough to be heard.   "Come over here, you guys.  You may as well get in on the action."  He held his arm out to the suddenly bright eyed look the kids gave him and shyly, slowly, they made their way over to the rock and came into their parents’ embrace, happily sharing a moment in the spiraling of time and destiny.

Lars grimaced at the towers—his eyes blinking as extreme heat came off of the towers—their flaming brightness almost too much to bear.   "Well obviously that’s the end and we’re no closer to a conclusion than before!"   He eyed the king nervously, for the king was sweating profusely.   "Maybe you should move, sire?  The heat is almost intolerable..."

King Orchelius dabbed at his sweaty face with a hand towel, eyeing the towers again.   "We can’t have too much further to go.   One more tale, and if no one is chosen, we will permit the both of you to be winners.   For I must admit that such a choice would be difficult for me, in the extreme!"

Lars didn’t seem to be too happy with the announcement.   He turned to stare at the youth with hatred in his gaze, stepping back slowly to his post as he dabbed at the sweat on his face with his sleeve.

Joruma had seen, but avoided the wizard’s steady gaze.   He recognized that no matter what happened, there was going to be a problem for him.   He let thoughts form in his mind until he grasped another tale, one that seemed very bizarre.   It was filled with chaos and terrible events that affected all the people.

The mist behind him began to reveal the images of the place and its moons or man made places in the void which surrounded the world.   His audience began to crane their necks and stare with consternation and awe at the vision of the darkness surrounding the world and its moons or oddly built devices floating in its void.

Such things had never been heard of or seen—in any augury or vision that prophets and the wisest of the wise had ever had, and this tale promised to be exciting and different, one every heart would remember for a long time.

"This tale also takes place on the same world that the ancient woman—who was tested in the swamp—came from.   It is about a time of great change and chaos.   It is called MILLENNIAL PHASE  and the way it is set, or how its account was kept—it is difficult to tell it in a natural sense.   But I will try to tell it the best way I can..."

Year 2020, June 23 at Earth Station 1: International Congressional Hearings on the need for colonization
...Evidence from all data that can be acquired at this time reveals that about every 4000 years a large astral body, much like a comet, swings into the Earth’s solar orbit.  It shares an orbit between Mars and Earth, at a distance of about half of Jupiter’s from the Sun, for a period of three and a half years, slowly approaching the earth’s orbital path, then leaving it just as slowly.  The effect it will have on the earth will last about seven years, totally disrupting the earth’s balance and the environment.  The last time it’s passing was recorded, nearly all of humanity was wiped out.   Current predictions by leading scientists have placed earth on the extinction list, with no possibility of survival...
Addressing the International Congress: Testimony by Dr. Edward L. Hart,  Professor of Biology and Astrophysics at Harvard University

‘The International Congress has convened and decided to send more colonists to Io Habitat Seven.  The colonists will be the best of the trained civilians, from bio-engineers to tech builders.   I and the few other available transport vessels will begin the mass wave of exodus from Earth.

Crews in the present habitats are actively protesting this decision, but are developing more room for expansion of the habitats.   They believe that the further use of Volcanic Manipulation Technology will undermine the stability of the present colonies.
There is little data to confirm their hypothesis, but leading scientists on the orbiting stations above Jupiter and other nearby stations have begun to investigate the possibility.   I would prefer to wait for further analyses but time dictates the necessity of enlarging the colonies as soon as possible.

The missiles that were launched at the comet-like astral body in space failed and the team of demolition experts were unable to change its direction or divide it with their carefully planned explosions.  The object is caught in the gravitational swing of both the orbits of Mars and Earth and will slowly move into the Earth’s orbit as it approaches.

The teams who were assigned to the demolition attempt, have been experiencing unusual symptoms and may be infected by a virus from the object.
Mars has had several storms and quakes that the station above it registered on seismic monitors.   The Martian habitats are expected to suffer from severe storm patterns and mounting quake activity where none have existed in the past.  Needless to say, the habitats were not built with quake activity in mind.  No colony expansion is expected for the Martian habitats.’
Captain Elsmith, logging out.

2028, August 20  at Mars Station, Mars Orbit
Captain J B Drysdale aboard the Shining Paladin, leaving the station’s docking bay and entering Martian airspace on a mission to investigate the rumor of an unusual virus, logging on.

‘There has been little contact with Mars over the past three months, due to static interference from the uncontrollable weather patterns and the quakes.   But a garbled emergency message was sent to the orbital station that warned everyone of a growing threat from the object, other than Earth’s extinction.  But the message wasn’t clear enough to make out what the threat was.
My mission is to obtain a sample of the virus and study its effects on the victims who are infected, if possible and get the data with the sample to the science lab in orbit around Calypso.’
Captain J B Drysdale, logging off.

2028, September 8 at Mars Station, Mars Orbit
Station Commanders log, Ian McFarley speaking.

‘Captain Drysdale seemed somewhat strange when he reported back to me about the success of his mission.  He seemed to be perspiring a great deal and repeating his message.  But he assured me that he was fine.  I have to wonder if his contact with the planet has perhaps infected him as well, despite his reassurances.

I am sending a warning to the science lab so that they will be aware of the possibility.  After all, the messages from the planet are getting more garbled by the day.   I am unable to raise a coherent message from them, even with the new antenna arrays and satellite boosters.’
Station Commander, Ian McFarley, logging off.

2028, September 15, at Jupiter Station, Callisto orbit
Doctor’s log, Dr. C D Bradley speaking.

‘Captain Drysdale brought the sample to us, but we had to quarantine his ship, locking it on the grids to prevent it from leaving.  It looks like the virus spreads quickly by air, despite the many safety precautions that I know he must have followed.   We will take the utmost care in studying it and them.

They seem to be aggressive in nature and regressing in their level of intelligence.   Perspiring too much, they look like they are changing physically.  They don’t seem to be dehydrating any, though.   Can’t determine how long these effects will last.

Must keep the research team small with orders to lock them in the auxiliary room, nearby, if they begin to perspire also.  The mechanicals can ensure their lock up, if the team is infected as well.’
Dr. C D Bradley, logging off.

2028, October 6, at Jupiter Station, Callisto orbit
Doctor’s log, Dr. C D Bradley speaking.

‘It doesn’t seem possible, but somehow the Shining Paladin has changed in some way, allowing it to escape the grid locks in the station’s docking bay.  I saw it happen with my own eyes and cannot say what really happened.  The ship’s fusion chambers located beneath it like rudders, to which the locks had been firmly attached, seemed to melt and flow right through the steel bars of the locks.

The crew were threatening to go to earth for the gathering.   This idea they have about a gathering is ludicrous, but even more mysterious, we have not been able to get a clear view of the insides of the ship since the whole crew became infected.   My researchers were able to run an analyses on the virus before coming down with it themselves.   The data came in on the primary computer before the lab computers went off line.

I had the foresight to disconnect the lab computers from the rest of the station, and preserve the data, although it is practically beyond our comprehension.   My researchers have never seen anything like it or how it responds to matter.   There doesn’t seem to be anything that it cannot change in some way.’
Dr. C D Bradley, logging off.

Year 2028, November 2 at Earth Station 1
Station manager, Mark Brussel logging on.

‘The Shining Paladin attempted to dock in the bay but being informed of the changes the strange virus has had on the ship itself, we placed various locks on the exit/entry windows of the docking bay and changed the codes.

No attempt was made to capture them, even though we have recently implemented several batteries of weaponry. The crew finally announced that they would go to Earth, dangerous or not.

The Shining Paladin is no longer just a transport vessel.  A suspicious construction on the forward and aft exterior looked a lot like large laser cannons, and there was a yellowish halo surrounding the vessel.  Probably a shield, although I don’t know how such a thing was constructed from the materials that were available on board the ship.’
Station manager, Mark Brussel logging off.

Year 2028, November 18 at the International Assembly of Congress in Sidney, Australia
The Honorable Senator, Teraza Lemico of Japan to the assembly. 
...in conclusion, honorable gentlemen, the virus is spreading like wild fire and there is no way to guess how it will effect the human psyche or alter our world, even if the Earth should survive the onslaught from the destructive forces of the orbital object.
The Shining Paladin has brought a worse fate upon us than even the extinction of Earth would have been.  Our surviving colonies may have to deal with mutated monsters on the Earth when they are finally able to return and restructure a new society.
Addressing the International assembly of Congress in Sidney, Australia: The Honorable Senator Teraza Lemico from Japan

‘Reports from the Earth Habitat 2 have related the sudden changes sweeping across the world.  Only a few colonists have been permitted to leave the planet for the habitats on other planets or their satellites.  The last group—the remainder of a rather large bridal party headed for Titan—which had been transported in four vessels and three trips were the only volunteers for the last habitat on Saturn’s moon.  The bridal party, consisted of about 7000 people in all, causing severe crowding in the large habitat, still under construction.

The Titan habitat is strictly experimental and its future uncertain, since there was little time to test the temperature controls and the special environment, meant to induce a simulation of a habitat on Earth, given the climate of Titan.  The trips out to Saturn have taken the longest, a five year trip there and back, ensuring crowding on some of the other habitats and stations as the Saturn colonists needed to leave the dangerous virus on Earth while waiting for more vessels to become available.

The Titan colonists will have to continue the building of their habitat, until crowding can be eliminated, developing the largest habitat to have been built, to this date.   If they continue the construction as planned, successfully, theirs will be the first habitat with its own government.  All others will be under the jurisdiction of the International Congress of Earth.

With the uncertainty of events on Earth, no one is counting on having an Earth to return to in the near future.  Scientists say that it will take at least fifty years for Earth to become habitable again, and some worry about what kind of planet it will become with the strange virus mutating everything it touches.

Our own habitat on the moon is somewhat crowded as are other habitats, but using the materials found on each satellite or planet, all habitats will be expanded for the present and future needs. Volunteers are working to expand the game reserve and garden habitats that orbit each colony, hoping to encourage growth in these needed areas.

The total surviving population, counting Mars, is merely 2,347,503, a pale comparison to Earth’s former state, but decidedly enough to repopulate it on the return trip.  Fate is a cruel task master and a demanding servant.’
Station Commander, Arthur Ridlin, logging off.

Year 2030, May 22 at Earth Station 1
Station Commander, Mark Brussel, logging on.

‘Reports coming in from Earth side are becoming wilder and more scrambled as time wears on.   But the gist of the messages seem to be this:  Hideous monsters prowl the streets and countryside, unstoppable and impervious to all weaponry.   They seem to be able to torment their victims into such a state of agony, that the victims try to kill themselves, but most of the reports state categorically that there have been no deaths as yet, aside from the brutal slayings done by the new regime which has taken over most of the population.

The food supply is being controlled by the regime, attempting to force the population to accept its dogma and rules in return for necessities.   Such atrocities should be stopped, but unfortunately, most of the provincial government left for the habitats and the remaining people who couldn’t be saved, must accept whatever dogma and or rule that is being spewed by this regime.

It calls itself the True Jew and has already taken over Israel, most of its original party having been born Jews and its leader being proclaimed as their messiah.   We are not sure just what the regime’s dogma consists of, but consistent information purports it to be a fanatical religious cult, determined to reshape the world into its idea of perfect.

Earth is beginning to feel some of the effects of the object, as storms become more violent and earth quakes more random.   The object itself is starting to heat up, sending out bits and pieces of its matter as it spirals along in its trajectory.   Our observation department is presently on the watch for any of its material that may hit our station, perhaps infecting it with the virus.’
Station Commander, Mark Brussels, logging off.

Year 2031, July 6 at Earth Station 2, Moon orbit
Station Commander, Arthur Ridlin, logging on.

‘We have received the terrible reports about the horrible slaughter performed by the True Jew regime and how they seem to be controlling the monsters.  The monsters were attacking people in a wild, random fashion, but now, it seems that the attacks only come when the victim refuses any of the regime’s wishes.   As if their own performance in the killing department wasn’t already sadistic enough.

We have also received some reports that describe this regime as looking and behaving like monsters themselves, but the appearance seems to have come about slowly, as if their evil souls are being revealed in their mutation.

A new report on other monsters has surfaced also.  The new monsters seem to target the regime and any who have received their dogma.  This new strain of monster, although horribly deformed, poisons and delivers a dreadful disease upon its victim.   But there don’t seem to be too many of them as yet, and we don’t know how resistant they will be to weaponry, or if they can survive the original monsters who are impervious to any weapons.

We can only hope that they are able to slow the regime down, before it finishes off the few remaining survivors who have managed somehow to evade the virus.   God help us all.’
Station Commander, Arthur Ridlin, logging off.

Year 2032, December 25 at Titan Habitat, orbiting Saturn
President Newly elected, John Matthew DeVine, logging on.

‘It is my grave duty to report to my people that disturbing information has finally reached our end of the solar system.   The population of our old home, the Earth, has slowly mutated from the virus, into monsters and horrible heathens.   A new regime calling itself the True Jew has purportedly started the Anti-Christ doctrine that we had expected and has begun to force people to renounce their Christian beliefs and to receive its mark, name or number, in order to survive.

It is unclear just how they implemented their power, but now, it is said that they have the backing of the remainder of the world government that had stayed behind to keep the world order.   Mass slaughter and persecutions of the small surviving few who weren’t infected by the virus, has received the approval of that said government, who did little, if anything, to stop the crimes from the very beginning.

I’m fearful of the rumors that some of our people were infected with the virus when still on Earth, and have made a containment place for them, if any turn up, based on new knowledge of the virus’s ability to change most matter.   But we still don’t know for certain if it can be contained with what we have.   I’ve encouraged everyone to report any strange perspiring or behavior which they may see and stay as far away from the poor victim, as possible.

It is sad to hear such terrible things as we celebrate the Lord’s Birth and await his return, but it is all as it should be.   We here, on Titan wait with restrained hope, praying that it will soon be over.   We intend to detain the last four ships which will arrive with the last of our colonists, for our own future use. For although we fully intend to build more transport vessels, we will need those for a blueprint and the return to Earth, after the object has passed out of Earth’s range and the heavy dust cloud has cleared.

It isn’t the planned time to return, but we have reason to believe that Earth will not be as ravaged as the scientists led us to believe.   Other leading scientists have stated that the sun can still penetrate the atmosphere.  It is only the heat being held down which makes life unbearable and dried up most of the rivers and lakes, causing the fearful drought that brought widespread famine and disease.

Our animal and garden habitats should provide us with enough seed and animal population for earth, if we are able to build more of those kind of habitats.

Those animals will be largely unskilled in their old ways, being born from cellular embryos, genetically altered to subsist on herbs and carried aboard as infants in the early stages of the habitat’s development.  If all of the animals are similarly produced, it shouldn’t be a problem.   They will all have to eat vegetables and milk like us, anyway, seeing there isn’t enough meat to feed everyone, but merely kept as future animal population for the Earth.

Other habitats intend to use their game reserves and gardens to feed their population, but their plans to build more such habitats are far more reaching than ours, while we are cut off from supplies which could have helped us in that endeavor so we must limit ourselves to a choice of gardens or animals, for consumption.  God help us to preserve what we must for our survival and his divine plan.’
Newly elected President, John Matthew DeVine, logging off.

Year 2033, March 3 at Nassau, Earth
Data entry, Survivor Ellen Gillams jotting this info down for my group, just in case we don’t survive.

‘I want any of those space cadets who are interested, to know what really happened down here.   It has finally come down to this, hiding in an old government bomb shelter.   The only safe place from the virus and those horrible mutants.
We lost another search crew to those monsters, the beastly regime that calls itself a government.   But they apparently didn’t break the crew’s will when they tortured them, or they would have smoked us out by now.

This time, we’ll have to arm the search crew with the best of our weapons, which means using the bio lasers.   We tried to save them for a last line of defense but there aren’t many of us left and if we don’t start getting something to eat, it won’t matter anyway.   Those murdering savages!   They’ve used a slow poison in a lot of the food and left it laying around the stores for us to find.

If we could only get the shelter’s storage tanks open, then we wouldn’t have to worry.   Their records say they have enough food stores to last five hundred people five years, well I guess it would last us for about fifteen.   The door is solid steel and extremely thick.   They must have been expecting giant ants to invade!   But Weasel face thinks she can use the program’s interface to open it if she can just figure out the code.   The way our luck has been going, I don’t know.’
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, signing off.

Year 2033, March 12 at Nassau, Earth
Survivor, Ellen Gillams jotting another entry down:

‘Our search team came back today with some uncontaminated food, enough for another month, but bad news.   The so-called good guys seem to have been affected finally by the virus and are going through some kind of change too.   We probably aren't far behind, oh horrible fate!   I’m getting a special drug ready, to die by fatal injection, if I begin to have any symptoms.   Suicidal hell or not, I don’t want to live like that.

We can see that infernal object in the sky at night now, despite the dust layers and the storms.   It looks a lot like an oblong moon, but really pocked with fissures and holes and seems to be developing a halo, the closer it gets.   I get the strangest vibes when I’m looking at it, like it is speaking to me.   Must be some kind of symptom.

My old beliefs seem to stir up in me like crazy and all I can think about for a while, is Jesus.   I lost faith somewhere back when the government began to build those colonies and put nothing but the so-called best in them.   It just seemed like nobody was listening anymore to us poor hard working stiffs, not even God.   And now, with even the good being infected, I can’t help but feel angry and sarcastic.   What God would make his own children want to die?

Anyway, I guess it don’t hurt to be a good person, even if you do have a hard time keeping faith in an invisible God.   I never dreamed there would be such a day that I would say something like that, but it is really hard to hold on to such faith in the face of this fatal situation.  If there really is a God, I’m sorry, but I’m just human.  I don’t know how to save anybody else from this terrible fate, much less my self.   I guess you’ll have to intervene, if you’re there and you’re listening.’
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, signing off.

Year 2033, March 26 at Nassau, Earth
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, giving another jot.

‘Weasel face did it!   She got the door open and now we have some good stuff, but I’m afraid it might be a hair too late, thanks to sending out the search teams and exposing our environment to the virus.   Little Joey has it and Bertie is beside herself with grief.

They want to kill him right away, to prevent him from suffering, but she can’t bear the idea.   She keeps saying that it won’t make a difference since we all will get it anyway, and by then, we won’t care that we’re all different.   I guess she’s right, but I don’t intend to be around to become a monster.

He lost his appetite, and speaks in a strange muttering voice, all the time.   He almost sounds like he is speaking in tongues, like they did in that Pentecostal church, but no one cam make out anything he’s saying, so it’s probably just delirium from the fever.   His little body produces lots of sweat, and it smells funny, almost like chemicals in detergents or something!   If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was getting rid of all the impurities in his body.

Everyone is depressed and want to party a lot now.   They say it may be the last any of us will enjoy anything in this life again, until it all ends.   And so, this entry ends with a slightly sober thought, like what else can happen now?’
Survivor, Ellen Gillams...or not, signing off.

Year 2033, April 10 at Nassau, Earth
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, drunk, but able to sign in.

‘Don’t know why Joey didn’t change yet, but he’s stopped sweating and his body looks different, pale and thinner.  He won’t eat either, says he’s not hungry.   But, he seems pretty normal, Bertie says he’s more like an angel, very well behaved.   He was pretty good before, but now, sweet and precious.

Looks like somebody was listening after all, at least for Joey.   But others have begun to come down with the virus, symptoms popping up all over.   I’m just waiting for mine to show up.   Guess I’ll be the last one in, as usual.   My needle is hid, but within easy reach.’
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, signing off.

Year 2033, April 17 at Nassau, Earth
Still surviving, Ellen Gillams, putting in one more entry.

‘Everyone is down with it but Weasel face, Joey and me.   They’re all not eating except for Charlie Morehand, and go figure, he barely ate at all before, like a bird.  Now, he eats up everything he can get his hands on, like a garbage disposal.   Joey says to put him out because he will be a monster real soon.   I’m looking for a way to do that, but it’ll take some doing.

Weasel face says we can put some food outside the door and leave it open long enough for him to start eating , then lock it with the big gear, since it would be quicker.   But, we’ll have to use the interface to reopen it, and that might take days or weeks, if we need to get out.   But, hey!  What else is there?’
Survivor, Ellen Gillams, taking a siesta.

Year 2033, May 4 at Nassau, Earth
Infected, Ellen Gillams, recording what may be my last entry.

‘I’ve been infected for a couple of days and was mostly muggy headed, except for a few clear lucid thoughts, so I thought I would put in this entry while I could.

Weasel face has it too, although it looks like everyone else has begun to come out of it, without becoming monsters, like Joey.  The precious boy has stayed by my side, just as he did for his Momma, putting cool wet cloths on my head.   But I think he took my needle, it wasn’t there when I reached for it and I thought I would loose my mind when the virus began to change my body.

That is all I can think of to describe it.   You can feel your body changing as you sweat out what it no longer needs.  Like my excess body weight.   I can feel that thinning down faster than anything else.   Strange, I always thought it would be painful and uncomfortable, but if I’m not out of it, I’m just woozy.

There’s no one to eat the food now, since me and Weasel face tricked Charlie out of the shelter.   But, we saw him slowly become what he would have within hours of our putting him out.   Joey was right on the nail.   Hope I don’t become a hideous monster like that.   I just can’t bear the idea.   I don’t want to hurt anybody or to kill innocent people like those who work for the regime.

My thoughts are starting to get muggy again. So  I’ll have to go...’
Maybe a survivor, Ellen Gillams, going off.   Well, you know what I mean...

Year 2033, May 12 at Nassau
Joey Faplak writing this message for Ellen, my friend.

‘She is having a hard time with the change, fighting the bio- cell chips that the virus has put in us all.   She thinks she will be one of the evil ones, but the good in her is greater than the bad, and the bad will sweat out of her body, soon.   When all who are to be a part of the last times have been changed, for good or bad, then we will see something really big happen.

I can feel the chanting of a distant song and hear it in my inner ear.   Soon, they will hear it too and we will be happy.   It makes you forget all else around you, when it begins to hum and you can’t help but long for it to be near.   It seems to promise, soon, soon!’
Ellen’s friend, Joey Faplak, saying good-by.

Year 2035, May 21, Spring  at Earth Station 1
Station Commander, Mark Brussel logging on.

‘The orbital object is in it’s ascent swing, leaving the Earth’s gravity for the sun’s.   But, a strange ball of light left the object and hurtled toward the Earth, striking somewhere in the Middle East.   A large radius of light went out from it’s explosion, for thousands of miles.

We don’t know for certain what it was or why the object was able to do this.  Data so far on this subject has been extracted from records of the crew who were assigned to demolish it, but these have been sadly lacking any information that would have answered the question.

At the same time that the ball of light struck the Earth, ships leaving Saturn’s  orbital Habitat, also changed into balls of light.   We’re not certain what happened there either, since the com link with their ships went dead.   They had said they were returning to Earth before the planned time because they were receiving a message from the object to meet someone there.

Our communications experts were able to establish a link with Nassau and we have been told by a few survivors there that a voice has been communicating with them and promising an end to the regime and all it’s evil.  They also said that the Earth would be safe to return to because the dust cloud is thinning and the heat dissipating.

Our own reports have confirmed this and the colonies will begin to permit it’s citizens to return as soon as some ships have been constructed for this purpose.   Of course, there will be a lot of reconstruction to be done before the cities are habitable again, but rule must be established right away.’
Station Commander, Mark Brussel logging off.

Year2035, July 4 at Jupiter Station, Io orbit
The last entry of the Omega files, as collected by Teresa and Captain Louis Bristol

‘I have included this last dialogue, the only real part my granddaughter and I had with the terrible experience.’

"Is that all the information on the great change, Grandpa?  We can finally put it all in the time capsule and send it in the satellite to other places in the universe."   Teresa Bristol, granddaughter to Captain Louis Bristol, commander of the Early Bird, asked him as he stood looking out of the view screen across the room from the console where she was entering the data for the coded time capsule.

"It’s the brief version.   The rest is in the chip.   I’ll just give it all to the committee."  He smiled, his eyes radiating with emotion. "We’ll all change when we get there, you know, to whatever we’re supposed to be."

She smiled.  "So, this is the beginning and the end of humanity!?"

"Alpha and Omega, like it says."
Captain Louis Bristol, reporting to the Committee for Earth History on the Omega Files

"Great Creagan’s ghost!  Look..."   Joruma pointed at the towers which were so bright that they had to shield their eyes as they watched it pop and crackle with the fiery flames that swirled about the top of the trembling pillars.

King Orchelius began to rise, the heat so great that he was trying to move away from the shaking towers of stone.   But as he took a slow step forward, toward the alter, the stone pillars suddenly cracked and part of the one where Lars stood, fell atop the alter, pinning the king beneath it.   The other exploded, pieces of it scattering everywhere.

"My liege!"   Rodane, the seneschal stepped toward his king as soon as the dust settled, looking about at the bodies lying all around, and those who were running away.

King Orchelius lay quietly, blood oozing from a wound where a large piece of stone had struck him in the head.

"My liege, my liege..."   He sobbed as he tried to wipe the blood from the king’s head.

Joruma arose from where he had fallen, a wound in the center of his forehead, with blood streaking down his face.   He moved to the seneschal’s side and looked at the king’s pale face.   "I believe he is dead."

Rodane lifted his tear stained face to his, his thin lips trembling.

"There are no heirs or siblings.   There will be no one to rise to the throne and carry the kingdom forward.   Chaos will result, with every fighter or soldier in Avontry and Delianshire trying for the throne!"

Joruma shrugged his shoulders, his eyes falling across a body by the pillar, where hot stones had struck and burnt the victim severely.   "It is the prophesy.   That old woman spoke truly.   It is an evil day!"

He stepped forward to the fallen body, lifting the rumpled hat to see the crushed face of Lars De Cruxe.   The wizard had probably brought this on with a spell which had prevented the towers from making a choice, and had paid for it with his own life, anyway.

He came back to the king’s side.   "At least, the cause of this evil, is gone.   I had a vision that the wizard cast a spell on the towers at some point, causing them to be unable to choose.   I think that is why this happened."

The seneschal nodded, his eyes staring over at the wizard’s body with a hard expression.

"He will receive the burial of the accursed.   No one will visit his grave or put up a memorial for him and his name shall go unuttered, for ever!"   He arose and gave the soldiers orders to remove the body of the wizard, to bury it in the cursed ground of the damned.

He had several of the courtiers to lift the king’s body onto his horse, tying him down securely.   "We will bury our king with royal fashion, then try to get control of the kingdom before any realize what has happened."

"Perhaps a ruling council can be established quickly, a leader from each town and village to sit in it?"   Joruma asked quietly, gathering up some of the king’s possessions and following the seneschal toward the castle, down the valley floor.

"Your tale was very unusual and startling but truly magnificent.   My Liege would have rewarded you with the honor of being chosen, had he lived, I am sure."   He spoke softly, his eyes still on the horse which carried his king.

Then the seneschal turned and smiled sadly.   "And the king was right to admire your intelligence and talent.   It is obvious that you think quickly in distressful times like these.   A council to rule the land is probably the best suggestion of all the options available.   We will see..."   He said as they walked homeward slowly behind the mourning survivors of the day.

The watcher who had seen all the events and watched the destruction of the towers of fate, lifted his wings and flew across the valley, flying north westward.   His black body was barely visible from below as he carried news of the Elvan blooded human and the end of the old ways, to a secret people who hid from the rest of the world.