12. Nefarious

Author's Note

One

_Trouble_

The punkers were high and the jocks were drunk. Periodically a couple would walk upstairs. Every so often the police would drive by, causing a brief nervous hush that dissipated the moment the car departed. It was a typical New Year's Eve party.

Seth Warner leaned back on the black leather couch, mildly interested in the night's events. Drinking and drugs were not his thing, but his friend Rian had wanted them to join the "in" crowd for this occasion, so Seth had done so against his better judgment. He put his feet up on the table in front of him, feigning nonchalance--and accidentally kicked over a can of beer. It was half full, and the liquid spilled across the table in a frothy stream and dripped to the floor before Seth could do anything about it.

Oops. Seth quickly put his feet down and stood up. "I'm sorry about that," he said without much enthusiasm.

"Jerk!" the girl snapped, though she had not shown much interest in the beer before.

Seth moved around the table and walked away, not eager to get into a dialogue that might arouse the girl's rather large punker boyfriend. Avoidance was almost always the better part of valor. This was one good lesson he had learned in the course of his training in martial arts: not to look for trouble.

"Hey, stupid!" It was the boyfriend, who had evidently not had such training.

Seth continued walking, not acknowledging the words or the tone. He had after all been at fault; the punker was entitled to his irritation. To an extent.

There was, after all, litter and spilled food everywhere; the punkers weren't much on housekeeping.

"Hey, pin-brain," the punker called, stirring. There was a sound that sent a shiver up Seth's back.

He turned, realizing that he was not going to get out of this cleanly. Sure enough, there was a knife thrust into the table: a clear challenge.

The buzz of conversation in the room faded. The others moved with seeming casualness toward the walls, clearing a space. They knew what was coming. The slightest of offenses was enough to provoke a fight, when the liquor was flowing. That was why Seth had tried to get away promptly, hoping that the punker wouldn't go out of his way to start trouble.

"Any problem?" Seth inquired. If the punker demanded an apology, he would make it; if he was required to fetch another beer for the girl, he would do that.

He would have offered before, but had feared that any interaction between them would only stir up antagonism. His judgment was being confirmed.

The punker heaved himself out of the chair. He took a moment to get his balance; he was pretty far gone on beer or worse. Not much chance to reason with someone in that condition. He stepped heavily around the table.

Seth slowly brought one foot behind the other in an almost casual fighting stance, feeling his muscles tensing. He had done his honest best to avoid a confrontation; his conscience was clear about that, at least. He was seventeen, stood six-two, and was in excellent physical condition. He was sure he could handle anything this jerk could throw at him, but he still hoped he wouldn't have to.

The punker walked up, scowling. Seth stood his ground. The punker lunged. Seth brought up his right hand and caught his adversary's arm. He then brought his own left arm up over his attacker, pivoted powerfully, and threw him to the floor. It was a basic technique, and he had used it in an attempt to stop the fight without seriously injuring his attacker. Even a drunk could catch on to the fact that the pickings were not as easy as he had supposed. This should be the end of it.

Seth turned and walked away, but from the corner of his eye he saw movement.

He had known better than to turn his back on an opponent without caution. The punker was getting up and grabbing at the table, cursing under his breath. He was, unfortunately, a slow learner.

Seth spun around as the punker snatched up the knife and charged him. This time, he knew, he could not afford to take it easy; he had to finish it quickly and get away.

He kicked the man's hand and sent the weapon spinning across the floor. Then he threw a side-foot kick into the oncoming attacker's chest. The force of the kick was magnified as the punker ran into his foot. He felt the shock of solid contact. There was a splintering crack, and his adversary fell to the ground.

That had been _too_ effective! Seth realized that he was hyped up by the menace, and had used full power when a lesser move would have sufficed. If the punker had been moving away, or taking defensive action, it wouldn't have been so bad. As it was, ribs had been broken.

Definitely time to leave! There were more punkers around, and Seth really did not like serious fighting, though he was equipped for it. He was proficient in Ryu Kyu No Te, a form of the martial arts originating in Okinawa, but had hoped never to use it in earnest. Why was it man's instinct to fight? The world would be better off if people could talk out their problems. But as long as there were those who would rather fight than talk, others had to be prepared.

He remembered when he had found a way to meet a challenge without having to fight. He hated people who made rude remarks to or about others. He did not necessarily brood about this in silence. For example, there was a boy who was along on some of the youth group trips he participated in. Somehow he always managed to alienate others without meaning to. He was only a casual friend of Seth's. But when other members of the group became too persistent about teasing him and making him miserable (and not doing much for themselves in the process) Seth had gotten angry. He had stood up and announced that he would have none of this. "Lay off!" They laid off, and it made all the difference in the world for that boy.

Seth had asserted himself on behalf of what he felt was right. That was all it had taken. There had been no violence. In retrospect, he was glad that it had happened, because it had made him realize one of his own values. Every person deserved his chance, as that boy had deserved his.

Seth felt motion behind him. He had allowed himself to become preoccupied at the wrong time!

A hand grabbed around his neck. Seth spun from the hold and jumped back. His friend Rian was standing in front of him. _The fool!_ he thought ferociously.

To grab him like that, right after he had struck a man down hard! But that was Rian's way; he was often thoughtless, but never malicious. Rian was short, blond and gray eyed, in contrast to Seth's tall, brown and brown, and their personalities differed more than their appearances, but none of that mattered.

"Nice fight," Rian said, nodding toward the punker, who was down to stay, this time. The big difference between Seth and his friend was Rian's unabashed love of fighting.

"We'd better take off before the other punkers realize what I did," Seth said as they walked away. It was their luck that the spectators had not been punkers, or it could have gotten much uglier in a hurry.

"That's a good plan! Are you as drunk as I am?"

"Stupid question," Seth replied. He had not been drinking at all. He respected such things as legal age limits, even if others ignored them. "I'll drive."

They emerged from the building and climbed into Rian's 4x4. Seth fastened his seat belt, started the engine and maneuvered it out of the parking lot.

"Did you meet that girl?" Rian asked. It was evident that he really wasn't intoxicated, despite his remark; still, he had had a few.

"No. I don't think she was there." That had been the other reason to attend this party: the hope that a particular girl would be there, unescorted. Seth really didn't know her, but had hoped to change that. But if she kept company with the likes of the punkers, it wasn't a good sign.

"It's just as well. I don't know what you see in her anyway...." Rian trailed off.

Seth didn't like his friend's sudden quietness. "What?"

"That van behind us is getting a little too close, don't you think?"

Seth cursed himself for not watching more carefully. He was entirely too likely to go off on some stray thought and not watch his feet--or, in this case, his rearview mirror. If Rian was concerned, it could be bad. He looked--and saw the headlights of the van coming up at ramming velocity.

Before he could answer, let alone get the car out of the way, the van rear-ended their vehicle, hard. Seth fought the wheel as the jeep jolted ahead. He tried to bring it under control by braking, but the brakes locked, making a worse jolt. Then Rian's head hit the windshield. He hadn't buckled his seat belt!

Seth jerked his foot off the brake pedal, but was still struggling for control. They swerved off the road and smashed into a tree. All Seth could think of as he saw it coming was how glad he was that by this time they were moving under twenty miles an hour, instead of forty.

He was shaken by the crash, but not hurt. "Rian, are you all right?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Bruised, battered, enraged, otherwise just fine!" Rian growled, rubbing his head. Evidently he had braced himself against the final crash. "But those characters are dead! Hand me that bat in the back seat!"

Now Seth, peering through the broken window, saw the van pulling to a stop beyond them. The trouble wasn't finished yet! "Maybe we'd better just get out of here on foot," he suggested. "It's getting dark; they won't be able to see us well enough to catch us."

Rian grabbed the bat. "Not likely! They wrecked my car. I'm going to bash their lousy heads in!" He shoved until he got the door open and scrambled out.

Seth did not care for this situation at all, but he didn't seem to have many options. He couldn't run off and leave his friend, so he had to stay. He doubted that the van was stopping to offer apologies and assistance, but it was possible that this stop was just to verify the damage to the jeep.

It was worse than he had feared. Figures were piling out of the van: about ten punkers, including the one Seth had put down. There was no question about it: they were out for blood.

"Rian, I really think we'd better get out of here and let the police handle it. The bashed bumpers and skid marks will show who's at fault, and--"

But Rian, foolhardy, was already charging; he swung his bat in a wide arc, and it smashed into the nearest punker's skull. Not a killing blow, but the punker landed on the ground with a thud.

Seth knew that any chance at all to avoid mayhem was gone. His friend's recklessness and the punkers' meanness were combining to guarantee disaster.

The two of them would be lucky to get out of this conscious, let alone healthy--and even if they did, the mess wouldn't look good at all on their records. What a situation--because of one spilled can of beer!

More cautious, now, the punkers took out weapons: knives, chains, nunchucks, and metal pipes. These were mostly homemade devices, looking crude, but Seth knew how deadly any of them could be. The blades were adapted from carving knives, with special handles. The pipes had tape wrapped around one end for a better grip. A chain was especially effective against an opponent's knife or club, because it could wrap around the hand and disable it. The nunchucks, in the hands of a skilled operator, could be worst of all. They consisted of two short lengths of wood or pipe, connected by a short cord. The attacker held one club, and whipped the other about on its tether, greatly increasing its striking force. This weapon had long since been outlawed, but street gangs still used it, and Seth was frankly afraid of it.

A short punker made a pass with his knife at Rian. Rian dodged the knife and brought the stiffened side of his hand down against the man's wrist, causing the knife to drop. But meanwhile two other punkers grabbed his arms, and then the disarmed one kicked him in the groin. Rian went down in agony, while all three punkers started beating on him.

Seth had been surveying the situation, trying to judge how best to help his friend without merely getting himself beaten up. He had somehow thought that the punkers would attack one at a time, so had been caught by surprise when they piled on Rian. He should have realized that there would be no rules here!

At least that relieved him of his concern about fair play. Seth hurled himself through the air, delivering a flying side-foot kick to the one who had kicked Rian. That one fell to the ground.

No! Seth realized with horror that the punker he had just downed was no male.

It was the girl at the party--the one whose beer he had knocked over. She was in a heavy jacket now, and had a cap on; in the dusk he had not recognized her. No wonder her pass with the knife had been clumsy!

Still, she _had_ attacked, and _had_ kicked Rian. But not quite accurately; Rian was now fighting back with the two who had held his arms, and was making an increasingly good account of himself.

So at the moment two punkers were down: one from Rian's bat, the other from Seth's kick. Two were battling Rian. The remaining six were circling Seth, having recognized him as the more dangerous opponent. All of these were male; apparently the girl had come along because she liked this kind of action, or wanted to prove herself in some way. Seth still wished he hadn't kicked her.

The first of the six charged him. Seth brought his foot up in an arc and delivered a crescent kick to the side of the punker's face. Then he spun in air and scored on a second with a flying reverse kick. The punkers had made the mistake of depending on numbers and weapons; they were relatively clumsy, and almost helpless against truly fast, trained strikes. Still, this was a long way from over!

"Aaaaah!"

Seth spun around and saw one of the attackers thrust a knife into Rian's hip.

Blood welled out, and Rian staggered.

Seth stood in shock. Somehow he had still had the notion that it was possible to get through this without serious injury, though all the indications had been against it. It was that spark of faith he nurtured, the faith that no man was truly evil and that there was always a way to come through a problem. He kept wanting to see some redeeming thing about the punkers, even as he fought them. As if at some point they would stop and say "Hey, it's been a good fight, you scored some points, let's quit now and go back to the party."

Sportsmanship. Now the obvious had registered: that there was no sportsmanship here, only blind malevolence. The punkers had been primed for a fight, and had grabbed at the first pretext that offered. The beer had hardly mattered.

There was a high-pitched noise. Suddenly he felt the whip of a cold steel chain slashing across his face. He could hardly see, for the blood was flowing into his eyes. Yet again, he had hesitated, he had paused, letting his mind play with concepts. That had let them take the initiative, and thrown away whatever remaining chance he had had.

Blindly, Seth ran, not caring where he went. He heard their shouts and laughter.

Laughter? How could they laugh? They thought this horror was funny? No, of course not. There was no humor here, only derision. They liked scoring, however brutally or unfairly, and they liked seeing their prey hurting, fleeing. It made them feel like big men.

Seth was not a coward, yet he continued to run, not knowing what else to do.

Had he been a real fighting machine he would have struck out at the punkers the moment they were distracted by Rian's scream, and reduced the odds. But his heart just wasn't in combat, no matter how good at it he was, and that had made him the victim instead of the victor. Attitude--that was his great weakness. His sensei, the instructor, had told him that, and it was true. "You could be a champ, but you think too much!" All too accurate.

He thought of Rian, surrounded, wounded, left there to face the punkers alone.

Still he kept running. What was the matter with him? This wasn't like him! It was as if someone else had taken over his body.

He slowed, stumbling in the darkness. He had to help his friend! He couldn't let himself be panicked, no matter how bad it was. He turned.

A burning blast of heat stung his entire body. What had happened? Had they fired a gun at him? It felt like a flamethrower!

No, it was cold snow! He had brushed by a tree and gotten a load of snow on him, and the cold had seemed hot. He staggered to the side, shaking it off.

Now he had stumbled onto ice. He tried to get off it, but somehow got turned around and only got onto more of it.

He used some snow to wipe the blood from his eyes, though it was still flowing. He looked about.

It was now dark, but he saw by the moonlight that there were no trees around him. He had staggered quite a way beyond the one that had dumped snow on him.

Where was Rian? Where were the punkers? The silence bothered him more than the commotion had.

He was standing on a lake. Normally that would not matter, in December, for it would be frozen solid. However, it had been a warm winter, thus far, and the lakes had only recently begun to freeze. Maybe the ice was sound, but more likely it wasn't.

Were the punkers watching to see how far out he would stagger before catching on? That would be another fine cruel joke!

He faced the near shore. Cautiously he took a step forward.

Crack!

_I don't like this!_ he thought. If he hadn't panicked, hadn't been blinded by pain and blood, he never would have blundered out here! Still, if he trod softly--

He took another step. There was another crack. No, he didn't like this at all!

Ice was treacherous stuff; it could support a person until he changed his mind, then give way. He had to get off this quickly, but didn't dare make a heavy-footed move.

He took a third step--and the ice gave way completely. Seth screamed as the freezing water shocked his body. His head went under, choking him off, suffocating him. He tried to swim up, but already the cold was numbing his limbs and the water made his clothing awkward; he couldn't move freely or efficiently.

Then his head struck the ice--and he realized that he had drifted under the unbroken section. That ice, too weak to support the weight of his body from above, was too strong to let him break through from below. He was in worse trouble yet!

He struggled, but knew he was getting nowhere. The horrible cold and darkness closed in, and his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. Air! Air! There was none.

He knew he had only seconds remaining before it was all over. He had gone through the ice, and if he didn't get back immediately, he would drown. All for half a can of spilled beer!

Yet somehow, now, he lost the urge to struggle. He let the air bubble slowly out of his mouth, and felt himself sinking. An odd tingling feeling intruded on his awareness, and his vision blurred. It was actually becoming comfortable, even pleasant.

Then he thought of his mother, and his ten-year-old sister Ferne with her long brown hair tinged with red and gold natural highlights, and how hurt they would be if he didn't come home. _NO!_ he screamed in his mind.

But something was causing his body to spin down, deeper into the water. He made one last effort to fight back, to stroke to the open surface, but to no avail. His body simply would not respond. His family had lost his father; now it was losing him too.

Then, with one last choke, he lost consciousness. He knew he was drowning. He wondered whether Death would appear with a long scythe.

Two

_Reincarnation_

Seth was acutely aware of the hot sun beating down on him. No wonder--he was in his heavy winter clothes! But it didn't feel like winter here!

Lifting a hand to his face, he felt a long stinging gash. He did not remember being hit. This wasn't from the chain. The ice must have cut him when he fell through, he thought. Through the ice.

Ice? Lying on his side, he opened his eyes. A pearly white beach stretched out under him, as far as he could see. The sand led up to a brilliantly blue ocean, with small rippling waves. This certainly wasn't home!

He sat up and looked the other way. About fifteen feet behind him was a tremendously thick jungle. Although Seth was no botanist, nothing looked remotely like a Michigan landscape. It was, if anything, more like a tropical rain forest.

He looked more closely at the trees. Their bark was not brown. A good number of the trunks were blue, green or white. There was also a peculiar yellow tree which appeared to have no bark at all, and was somewhat disturbing to look at.

Most of the leaves were larger than what he was accustomed to seeing. Not quite green, they were almost emerald, with veins of incandescent pink and violet. The overall effect was dazzling.

Where was he? He had just died, so maybe--

"Heaven?" he asked aloud.

"No."

Startled, Seth jumped to his feet. That was not a good idea. Not only was his head hurting, his legs were asleep, and he fell down onto his side, feeling ridiculous. He stretched his legs and flexed them, getting the circulation restored. Then, slowly, he stood up again.

He saw nothing. Had he suffered an auditory hallucination? An imagined voice?

That would be no less likely than his presence on this warm beach, after sinking into a freezing cold lake.

"Who is that?" he asked, nervous not so much about his surroundings, as about the state of his sanity.

"Me."

That had definitely been a voice! Seth looked around, and decided that it had come from behind the yellow tree. He walked up and put his hand on the trunk.

What had appeared to be yellow bark felt more like leathery yellow skin.

"Hands off!"

Startled, Seth jumped back. The voice was not from behind the tree, it was from the tree itself! He tripped over his feet, almost fainting with the astonishing realization. A talking tree?

"You're going to hurt yourself!" laughed the patronizing voice.

Well, the laughter wasn't cruel. It was better than chains and knives! "What are you?"

"I am a tree, you twit!"

Ask a silly question! Seth tried again. "Who are you?"

"I am Sen-Tree, a direct descendant of the once-powerful Guard-Trees."

Was this a joke? Then who was playing it, and how? Joke or not, this was better than drowning!

"Where am I?" Seth asked. He was almost unable to formulate complete thoughts, much less compound sentences.

"You are on Earth Plane 4, twenty kilometers from the border of the Teuton Empire," replied Sen-Tree.

Seth mulled this over and decided that he must indeed have gone crazy. "How long have I been lying on the shore?"

"A very short time. Two or three days, perhaps."

"Two days! You consider that a short time?"

"I am a tree," the tree said. "I have lived for 379 years, 6 months, and 22

days. It is possible for me to live another 400 years. Thus two or three days is a short period of time. It is all a matter of perspective. You have a problem with that?"

The tree sounded offended. Some of its branches were trembling, and there was no wind. Seth realized that it was time to stop being so concerned about his own situation, and to start tuning into what he was finding here.

"I apologize if I offended you," he said quietly. "It is simply that I am a stranger here, and do not know your ways."

"If you are here, then you are here for a reason," the tree said. "However, if you wish to leave, then you might talk to the Emperor."

He might be crazy to talk to a tree, Seth thought; but crazy or not, he thought it imperative to talk to another human being. If this tree helped him find a man, it was worth it. "Would you be so kind as to tell me how to find him?"

"If you step behind my trunk," the tree said, "you will notice a path which leads to Teutonia. That is where the Emperor resides."

Seth did as he was told. Indeed, there was a path. "Thank you!" he exclaimed.

The tree did not answer him. It was already busy yelling at an amused bird who had landed provocatively on a branch.

Seth set off down the path. A tune was running through his head, and in a moment he identified it: "We're off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz!" But this wasn't Oz, or Kansas, or Michigan. This was Earth Plane 4, whatever that was. If he could believe the talking tree. If he could believe in his sanity.

Then he became uncomfortably aware of the sharp pang of hunger deep in his belly. If the tree was correct, he had not eaten in two or three days. His amazement at his situation, and the talking tree, had distracted him from his internal condition, but now it was not to be denied. This was no joking matter!

He looked at the trees beside the path. He spotted what appeared to be a fruit tree with a green trunk and blue leaves. He approached it with caution. The fruit looked good, if he tuned out the color, but it was unfamiliar. How could he know whether it was safe to eat?

Well, maybe this was another talking tree, and maybe it would tell him. It was certainly worth a try.

"Mr. Tree," Seth called, feeling foolish, but not as foolish as he knew he would be to pass up edible fruit while so hungry. "Mr. Tree, is your fruit good? May I take some to eat?"

There was no reply. Seth was relieved. If the tree had talked, it would probably have been as irate as the other one. How could he have been sure whether it would tell the truth about its fruit? It might say it was poisonous when it wasn't, or, worse, say it was good, in an effort to destroy the intruder. It was better to use his own judgment.

He picked a fruit about the size of an apple. Its color, however, was white.

It seemed to be ripe, and it smelled like a peach. But, being experienced in outdoor living, Seth did not take a large bite. Mushrooms weren't the only things that could be deceptive! He sucked on a small piece, resting beside the trunk. It tasted much like strawberry, and he found it very satisfying when he closed his eyes so as not to see how clearly it was something else.

After waiting a while and suffering no ill effects, he ate a larger portion.

He waited again. This was tedious, but better than taking an unnecessary risk.

Again, he suffered no ill effects. Unless this was something like red squill, the stuff used to poison rats without making them sick immediately, this pseudo-apple-peach-strawberry would do.

He ate with greater abandon, but did not stuff himself. Even non-poisonous food could be troublesome, if too much was eaten on a long-empty stomach. Then he made a knapsack out of his un-needed winter jacket, and packed more of the fruit. This should solve his food problem for the next day or so, and by then he hoped to have found something else to eat. This really did not seem to be an inhospitable region, just strange. Quite strange!

Before resuming his walk, he took inventory. All of his clothes appeared to be on him, except for his scarf, which must have fallen into the lake. Or the sea. He still had no idea how he had come from one to the other. Maybe he had floated down and down through the lake, and somehow that water opened into this other sea in this strange land, and he had washed ashore and lain there, recovering. Certainly he was lucky to be alive, and if the loss of his scarf was all it had cost him, it was a bargain!

He had a few dollars in his wallet, which he suspected would be worthless here. What use would money be to talking trees? Still, he saved them; one never could tell. There was also a pocket knife, which contained a flint and a magnesium rod for starting fires. Seth was no arsonist, but he felt a lot more secure knowing that he could start a fire if he needed to. Finally, there were a few coins: a dime and three pennies. Not much, certainly, but a tangible reminder of home. Somehow he thought it would be long before he saw that home again.

How was his mother doing? His sister? Did they think him dead in the lake?

That hurt! He pictured Ferne crying for him, her cheery nature abolished, her brown eyes turning red, and that hurt worse. No more tickle fights! He wished he could tell them that he was all right, in a land that seemed a good deal friendlier than the one he had left. No punkers here! But the image of men dredging the lake came to his mind, breaking the ice to search for his body.

They wouldn't find it, but would that give them hope? How could they possibly guess the truth? He hardly believed it himself! Yet maybe, somehow, they would know...

Seth resumed his trek, paying careful attention to the scenery around him. A short distance from the path some trees were bending to the sides, as if something were pushing them. He saw no animal, and there was not enough breeze to account for it. What did it mean?

Then he realized that there was a pattern to the motion: the path of moving trees was going to intercept Seth's trail, not far from where he was now.

He thought quickly, then did what came naturally: he climbed the nearest large tree. This one was like a bull spruce, but with a blue trunk and red needles, and the branches were triangular in cross section. He was able to stair-step up them readily enough, and to gain a fair concealment because of their thickness and number. He could peer down, but probably would not be noticed unless whatever it was below looked directly at him.

He saw the creature. It appeared to be a huge purple snake, with a diameter of about two feet. It slithered out of the forest and across the path. It stopped under Seth's tree and opened its mouth--which appeared to be at its tail end.

It swung its neck in every direction, then closed its mouth and slithered back into the forest on the other side. The thing was traveling backwards, with the mouth behind and no apparent eyes!

The snake safely past, Seth started his descent. He had remained absolutely still, so as not to attract attention; that serpent might be able to climb!

But when he tried to move, he discovered that he could not. He seemed to be glued to the tree.

He controlled his panic reaction; that had gotten him into too much trouble before! Maybe there was sap or something, that adhered to his clothing, fastening it to the trunk. If so, he should be able to work himself free without making a commotion.

He examined himself--and found that little branches or rootlets had grown around him and attached themselves to his clothing. He tried to tear himself free, but could not; the cloth was so closely bound that it seemed to have become part of the tree.

Seth was able to get his right arm free of the sleeve, and to reach into his pocket for the knife. With that he tried to cut the rootlets, but they were tough, and he ended up cutting more cloth than root. He had to climb out of his shirt and Levis and leave them behind, after saving his few other belongings. He did salvage his sneakers, though; apparently the tree could not burrow through their rubber soles or tough upper canvas. He still had his winter jacket, and the fruit that he had been carrying in it. He added his wallet, pen knife and coins to the fruit, as he no longer had regular pockets.

He was alone, and it was warm, but he didn't feel easy about traveling on in his underwear. This wasn't just modesty; there could be predatory insects, though he hadn't been bothered so far. Certainly there were scratchy branches.

There was also sunshine in the glades; he could get burned if he was in it too long. He wanted enough body cover to protect him from possibly unpleasant surprises.

After searching the area, he found a tree with extremely large and tough leaves of a funny color. Oh--they were green! He cut off several with his knife. How glad he was that he had not lost this one tool! He fastened the leaves together with brown vines from another tree, fashioning a crude skirt.

Then he made an even cruder shawl to protect his shoulders. As an afterthought he found a suitable stick and whittled one end into a sharp point. Now he had a serviceable spear. After seeing the monstrous snake, he knew that this land was not necessarily friendly, and he wanted more protection than bare hands and a pocket knife.

He knew that he looked somewhat outrageous, but he ventured bravely forth.

Twenty kilometers was a long hike, about twelve miles, and it was apparent that he would not cover it on this day. He would have to spend a night in this strange wilderness. The thought hardly pleased him, but it appeared unavoidable.

Seth traveled what he figured to be about eleven kilometers, or a generous six miles in the more familiar measure, and decided to set up camp. It was more important to have a safe haven for the night than to make extra distance. With about an hour and a half left before dusk, assuming that the pattern of the day here was similar to that of home, he should have time to build a shelter.

Certainly he wasn't going to try to sleep in a tree! Without his regular clothing on, it would be his flesh the rootlets found, and they might like it all too well.

Methodically, he searched the area. He found a fallen tree of suitable size, and dragged it back to the path, laying it at a low angle wedged in a V of another tree. Next he found medium-sized branches which he angled against the tree on both sides. He found a plant with leaves similar to the ones he had made his kilt from, and intertwined the leaves between the branches.

Satisfied, he checked the little hut. An opening at one side was where he would build a fire. If any big snakes came, that should discourage them, he hoped! Seth collected twigs, sticks and branches, making sure to have enough for the entire night.

The fire started in no time, which was good because it was rapidly growing dark. He ate a few more fruits, glad that they were juicy because he had no other source of liquid, then submitted to an urgent call of nature. He picked up his makeshift spear and sat in the shelter, watching the fire. He intended to remain awake all night, so as not to be caught off guard. He had had no experience with the creatures of the night here, and he wanted to see them before they saw him.

He sat silently, feeling more and more tired. His eyes drifted upward, and he watched the sparks from the fire reaching for the sky like aspiring stars.

* * *

Suddenly, Seth was no longer sitting in the warm hut, but racing through the snow. He ran through the forest, hearing the punkers laugh. In a fit of rage he turned around. Eight of them appeared, and Rian was on the ground, trembling in pain.

Seth charged the enemy. The first one swung a pipe at his head. He ducked and delivered a front snap kick to the enemy's groin. He inverted his foot and sent a roundhouse kick to the man's face. There was a loud thud as the punker hit the ground, motionless.

Whirling on the next attacker, Seth saw the glint of a knife. The punker slashed at Seth's face, and he jumped back.

He was not in time. The knife left a stinging gash on his cheek. Rage building with the pain, Seth spun in the air and made a devastating reverse kick, crushing the punker's rib cage.

Three more charged Seth. He moved with blinding speed. The first aggressor met a reverse punch which broke his nose. The second fell to the ground after receiving a side-foot kick that snapped his knee backwards. The third met with a drop-axe kick that broke his shoulder blade and his collarbone.

The remaining two punkers, seeing the way of it, hopped into the van and sped away.

Seth ran to Rian, taking off his scarf and tying it around Rian's wound. He ran out to flag down a car driving down the road. Naturally several cars sped right on by, not wanting to get involved, but then the police arrived. Thank God!

* * *

Seth woke, sweating and shivering. He realized that he was in his crude hut, keeping watch against the potential threats of the night. What a weird vision he had had.

The strangest thing about it was the seeming sense it made. That slash on the face--that accounted for the one he had found when he woke on the beach. His lost scarf--he had given it to Rian. In the dream.

Against his best intention, he drifted back to sleep. Now, however, he dreamed of pleasant fragrances, flowers, and the wind playing beautiful music as it whistled through reeds.

* * *

When he woke again it was morning. The sun was out and mist was rising off the ground. His fire had burned out. Some alert watcher he had been! He was lucky he hadn't been gobbled by a giant snake.

But there was something strange. He had dreamed of music. Now he was wide awake--but he still heard that music.

Three

_Rame_

A soft, lilting melody was drifting to him. Seth shook his head, realizing that this was no dream. Someone was playing nearby!

"Who's out there?" he shouted--and immediately wished he hadn't. He should have kept quiet until he knew more about the other person. Now he had given himself away.

There was no answer, but the music stopped. This was not a good sign! Cursing his thoughtlessness, Seth reached for his spear. He had been foolish, but he didn't have to make it worse. This was no time to panic!

He assessed his situation. He was in a hut, and there was someone or something somewhere outside. It wasn't necessarily hostile. It had been singing, after all.

The other could have known that Seth was in the hut all along. It could have been watching him all night. Not good--not good at all! Yet it hadn't attacked, so this might not be bad either. There was no way to be sure.

First things first: if he stayed in the hut, he was an easy target. Better to get out quickly. At least he would be ready to defend himself, then.

Seth burst out of the hut, uttering a harsh cry, so as to surprise the other and scare it back. And crashed chest to chest with a gorgeous girl. She screamed and fell on the ground, her bright purple skirt spreading in disarray to show her lovely legs.

Seth, so well braced for trouble, had not been ready for this! Why hadn't he realized that it was a girl playing the music? The tune had been light, after all. He had been so worried about the danger that he hadn't really listened.

He felt terrible. He extended his hand to her, in a gesture of conciliation.

"Aaayyyeeee! Rame, help!" she cried, scooting away in panic.

Startled, Seth retreated. He was embarrassed about almost attacking the girl, but alert for danger. It had been a girl who had gotten him into trouble back where he came from, after all. With his peripheral vision he noticed movement about a hundred feet up the path. He whirled.

He heard a whooshing sound, and another. One arrow flew past his left shoulder, and one past his right. Fortunately both had missed.

Or had that been bad aim? The bracketing was so neat and swift that it could be a warning. Seth hesitated.

Suddenly his neck was caught by a rope. His hands came up reflexively, grabbing it before it tightened further, but the rope was already pulling hard. His head was jerked back, and he was hauled off his feet.

For a moment he swung wildly, his feet pedaling air, his hands trying desperately to keep the noose from becoming a garrote. Then his back smacked into the trunk of a tree.

The arrows reappeared, going in opposite directions, circling him. _Circling him?_ Even caught as he was, Seth gaped at that!

Then he realized that they were tethered arrows. In fact, the two were tied together. Like the business end of a bola. They circled around the tree, coming closer with each pass, until each slapped into the bark beside his head.

Seth didn't breathe much of a sigh of relief. Despite his effort to hold it off, the rope was like nylon cord, and was cutting uncomfortably into his neck. He sagged against the tree, and it tightened further, cutting off his breath and blood. He could have held his breath for a time, but when the pressure cut off the blood he blacked out instantly.

* * *

Seth woke to the sound of music, again. Cautiously he opened his eyes. He didn't want to knock down any more pretty girls and incite any more devastating attacks!

He was in a cave, lit by torches. He lay on a mat on the floor. Standing beside him was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The one he had encountered before. Her hair was long and silky blonde, her eyes were stunning green, and her figure made the term "perfect" seem inadequate. She wore the same bright purple skirt and brown blouse, and on her this seemed the ideal decor.

The girl looked at him and saw that he was awake. This time Seth did not extend a hand; he knew better. Instead he slowly shifted his body, rolling toward her. "My name is Seth," he rasped. "What is your--"

"Aaayyyeeee!" she screamed, exactly as before.

Startled, Seth sat up. He shouldn't have. He banged his head into a stalagmite and blacked out again. He seemed to be spending a good deal of time unconscious!

* * *

Once more Seth woke. This time there was no music. He cracked open his eyes and saw in front of him a man of about his own age. The man had reddish brown hair, shaggy pants, wooden shoes, pointed ears, and horns.

Seth blinked. Yes, horns. And those shoes weren't wooden after all, and they had no toes. In fact they weren't shoes at all. They were hoofs.

Standing before him was the mythical creature known as a satyr. Horned, with the upper body of a man, and the lower body of a goat.

"Hello!" the satyr said. "Glad I didn't kill you. The name is Rame. When I heard Malape scream I thought she was being attacked, and I'm afraid I acted without looking. I shouldn't have; she's a nymph, and they tend to be jumpy when there's no reason. Are you all right?"

Seth reached up to touch his head. He had a bruise there, but there didn't seem to be any blood. The same was true for his neck. He had a dull headache, unsurprisingly. Concussion? "Nothing that some aspirin and a few days rest won't cure, I think," he said hoarsely.

"Asp run?" Rame asked, perplexed.

"You don't know about aspirin?" It was still an effort to speak; that rope had bruised his larynx.

"I see you are in pain. The hamadryad can help with that." He turned. "Malape, this person is not a danger to you. See if you can heal his head."

The girl approached timidly, her face and bosom poised for a scream at the first sign of trouble. Seth had the sense to remain absolutely still, this time. She put her cool right hand on his forehead, and immediately he could feel the sting of his bruises easing and his headache fading. She put her left hand on his neck, and his throat eased. It was like magic!

Magic? Here he was in a strange land, where trees could talk or grow instantly into his clothing, talking with a satyr. What was so odd about magic?

"Uh, where am I?" he asked, bewildered, hoping his voice wouldn't spook the girl again. Her touch was so wonderful! Already his voice was improved, as the power of her healing hand spread down through his throat.

"You are not from this area?" Rame asked.

"I don't think I'm from this planet! Incredible as it sounds, I talked to a tree and it told me I was on Earth Plane 4." Seth didn't mention that it seemed just as unlikely that he should be talking to a mythical satyr; that might be undiplomatic.

"Talking to a tree is not unusual, though it is frustrating at best," Rame said. "You are, however, on Earth Plane 4."

"What am I doing here?" Seth cried desperately. The nymph flinched, but did not remove her hands, to his relief. He had to be careful how he spoke; he had good reason not to disturb her!

"Perhaps if you told me how you arrived, we can find out why you are here,"

Rame proposed.

"I'm really not sure. I remember falling into a lake in my world, and waking up by the ocean in this world. I talked to Sen-Tree, and he told me to follow the path to the Teuton Empire. I spent a night in the wilderness, and now I'm here." Seth looked at the satyr, half expecting him to laugh at this preposterous story.

"It is possible," Rame murmured. "Have you encountered any other creature?"

"Nothing. Oh, I did run across a big snake moving backwards."

Rame looked alarmed. "Did it see you?" he asked urgently.

"I don't think so. I was hiding. It didn't seem to have eyes, anyway."

"It sees where it has been, through an eye in its mouth," Rame said. "It could be deadly to your cause. If my guess is correct."

"We're in luck, then. I climbed a tree, and got into other trouble, and--what cause?"

"It is not my place to tell you the specifics," Rame said soberly. "I don't think I know them all, as it is. You must avoid all serpents, dragons, snakes and lizards. They are all the eyes and ears of Nefarious the Sorcerer."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Seth exclaimed, and the girl retreated nervously. However, his head and neck felt completely relaxed; her touch had been better than any medicine! "Dragons?"

"Dragons! I realize this makes it sound very bad, but that is all I am able to tell you for certain. Before we leave, we shall feast, if your head is well now."

"It is much better! I never felt such a healing touch!"

"Yes, of course. Malape, fix a meal for our visitor." Then he looked puzzled.

"I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Seth. Uh--leave?"

"Yes, very soon."

"We?"

"I would not send you alone."

"But you were shooting arrows at me!"

"A misunderstanding, as I explained," Rame said. "But I didn't shoot at you; I shot to confine you without hurting you."

Seth had to admit that this was so. His worst hurt had been from his own banging against the stalagmite. Now he discovered that not only was his pain gone, so were the scrapes on his head and neck. Malape had truly healed him!

"The girl, Malape--you called her a hamadryad?--what is this power she has?

All she did was put her hand on my head--"

"Malape isn't a girl. She's a wood nymph--a creature who shares her life with a tree. Like all her kind, she is beautiful, and she has the power of healing minor scrapes, but she's very timid and not incredibly smart."

"A nymph of a tree," Seth said, amazed. "But you are treating her like a servant!"

"No, I merely tell her what I want, and she is glad to do it. In return I protect her and her tree from harm. When she screamed, I acted--too quickly, I now see. It is a fair exchange. It would be a burden on her to have to make a decision about a stranger. She knows I will not betray her interests, and that I have reason for what I ask of her."

Seth looked at the nymph, who was now gathering things for the meal. Her skirt and blouse, he now saw, were fashioned of bark and leaves, somewhat like his own but far better fitting. Actually they were hardly more than slip and halter, with most of her torso and legs bare. There was only one term that properly described her, and that was luscious. "She does anything you ask, without question?"

"Well, not anything. She won't leave her tree, for example, and no nymph is any good for intellectual games. But it is not necessary to spend the night in the open, as you did, if you are on good terms with a hamadryad."

What would a satyr do with a lovely and completely obliging nymph, during the night? Seth decided that he didn't need to ask. This wasn't his world, after all.

Malape fixed a magnificent meal, consisting of many different types of fruits and vegetables. Yet when he bit into them, they did not all taste the way they looked. Some had the taste of meats, and others of fish, and others of pasta and many other foods whose nature was foreign to his domesticated palate. Seth started to eat hesitantly, afraid of the effect of the alien food on his body.

Soon, however, he felt no further need to be cautious, and ate with the hunger that his body had built up over the past two days. The fruit he had eaten before had not been enough; he realized that now.

"You seem to enjoy our food," Rame commented politely.

"It's fabulous, thank you!" Seth sputtered between bites of a fruit that tasted similar to ravioli.

Once the edge was off his hunger, Seth ate more slowly, and talked with Rame.

He found himself coming to like the satyr. There was no evidence of the horrific sexual appetite that legend claimed for this species; indeed, Rame paid little attention to the nymph.

Rame explained that the tree that had stolen his clothes would not have hurt him; it simply had a taste for fabric. The snake creature he had seen was called a Synops. It was not generally a threat, unless annoyed or hungry, except for the matter of its connection to Nefarious.

They finished the meal. Seth would have liked to rest and digest it, but Rame gave him no time for that. He showed Seth out of the cave. It turned out to be in a hillside beside a huge tree of uncertain type, perhaps a variety of oak.

The great purple roots came down to enclose the mouth of the cave, while the spreading brown foliage shaded and concealed it. Indeed, Seth realized that what he had taken for wooden shoring was merely the network of roots enclosing the cave. The nymph had really not left her tree!

As an afterthought, he noted that the hamadryad matched her tree, by no coincidence: her brief skirt was from its bark, and her blouse was made of its leaves.

"Malape," Rame said sadly, "it is time for Seth and me to go. I will return as soon as possible, though I do not know when that will be." He took her in his arms, kissed her lovingly, and let her go. Suddenly Seth realized that the bond between these two was not lust but love; he had been too free with his private conjecture.

Malape dissipated and faded into her tree. At any other time, Seth would have gaped, but he was coming to understand some of the ways of this world. She was truly the spirit of the tree, human only in appearance. It was the tree, really, that had healed his injuries.

Rame turned to Seth. "Now," he said with a deadly serious tone, "we must travel. However, it would be extremely helpful if you had some way to protect yourself. Can you use any weapon?"

Seth realized that he certainly hadn't covered himself with any combat glory, here! Yet if he had had a better notion what he faced, he could have avoided the arrow-bola and perhaps given a better account of himself. He thought back to his karate training with the Boken, a wooden practice sword. He had gotten pretty good with it. That might be a good choice. "Can you get a sword for me?"

Rame walked back into the cave. After a few seconds he came out carrying a long wooden box. "This will be your weapon for the time being. I found it in the cave, and saved it until I could find a proper use for it. It is magic."

Seth opened the box and lifted out a broad sword. It was a breathtaking weapon! The steel glistened in the sunlight, beautifully polished, with a design on the blade. The handle was equally stunning; it appeared to be made of gold. A white tassel hung from the hand-guard, completing the effect.

There was a black scabbard with a harness that Seth realized fitted on his back. He sheathed the sword, got into the harness, and adjusted it for comfort. He would be able to reach over his shoulder and draw the sword without much hesitation.

"But I can't just take this!" Seth protested, realizing that the sword was worth a king's ransom even if never used. "I realize I'm only borrowing it, but--can I make you some sort of trade?" He found his collection of personal things, which was undisturbed. The money was pointless, but the pocket knife might be suitable. "This little folding knife?" He showed how the blade came out.

Rame was amazed. "A knife that folds in half!" he exclaimed.

"It also can be used to make fire," Seth said, demonstrating the flint and magnesium rod.

"Such magic!" the satyr exclaimed, delighted. "Let me trade in turn! Here is a magic dagger of mine, whose blade is always sharp."

"But you've already lent me the--"

"No, that is not mine to give. This is."

Seth nodded. He would return the elegant sword when he parted from Rame. They traded knives. He felt good about it. The satyr evidently felt the same.

"Why can't you explain to me what's going on?" Seth asked, perplexed, as they began to walk down the path.

"The truth is, I'm not quite sure," Rame replied.

* * *

They walked in silence for some time. Rame was surely thinking of Malape, who might not be bright but seemed in every other way to be a fine figure of a woman. Seth was thinking of home. How was his mother doing, and his little sister Ferne? He tried to tell himself that he shouldn't worry about them, because there was nothing he could do, but he _did_ worry. They would have no way to know that he was all right--and even if they did, who was doing the chores? There was snow to be shoveled, a house to be maintained--his mother had to work, so was gone most of the day, and Seth normally drove Ferne to her music lessons after school. His absence would be causing serious disruptions!

Finally Seth found the silence unbearable. He simply had to talk, to take refuge from his own thoughts. "I may not know this world, but satyrs were mythical, nonexistent creatures on my world. They were supposed to be very mischievous sprites who frolicked with others of their kind, and were, uh, very free with women. This doesn't seem to be true about you."

Rame nodded. "I suppose we will be spending some time together, so we may as well talk. I prefer to think of myself as a faun. The appearance of fauns is identical to that of satyrs, but our behavior differs. Your description of satyrs is accurate, but to my way of thinking there is no point in the mischief they create. The Elders warned me that if I failed to change my ways I would be exiled. Instead I chose to leave Clan-Satyr on my own volition, because I could not conform to their ways. Leaving was almost as bad as being exiled; the members of the Clan vowed not to cast their gaze upon me, and I was stripped of my magic."

Seth listened, and decided that he really liked this person, whether he was a man or a creature. "I doubt that it matters, but I feel you were right in your decision."

"You would, you're human," Rame said. Then, as an afterthought, "Thanks.

Anyhow, I traveled about twenty days before finding the cave in which I now live. I met Malape in much the manner you did: when I was tired and hungry to the point of collapse, because foraging and survival was much harder without my magic. Hamadryads are normally rather shallow, but she had been around for some time--you saw the size of her Tree!--and was willing to learn new things.

She will never be able to travel or to harbor complicated concepts, but she has her virtues and was kind to me. She put her healing hands on me and brought me food, and kept me safe among the roots of her Tree until I recovered. We learned how to get along together: she is most comfortable when I simply tell her what I want with no ambiguity, but she does it because she wishes to please me, not because she has to. When something threatens her Tree, I do what I can to protect it, not from any debt to her but because I want to please her. After a while I grew to love her--a feeling that no true satyr would have."

Seth did not know what to say, and thought it best to remain silent. How wrong he had been, when he had thought Rame was treating Malape as a servant!

They walked for quite a while. The forest was getting thicker around the path.

The foliage overhead had grown so dense as to let only slivers of sunlight show through. It was as if they were moving into a deepening cave. Seth was nervous about this, not sure what monsters might slither through such reaches, but Rame seemed unconcerned. Since the faun knew this world much better than Seth did, Seth was reassured.

Rame took a reed whistle out of a pocket on his quiver and put it to his mouth. From it came the music Seth had heard when he had awakened in the morning. So it hadn't been Malape after all!

It was beautiful. The melody was new to Seth; he had never heard it before this day. But it made him feel whole. It seemed to have a rejuvenating quality to it. His fatigue from the hiking was easing; it was as though Malape were putting her healing hands on his feet. Rame had said that he no longer had magic, but it seemed his whistle did!

"AAAEEEEEEEE!" came a scream from above their heads.

Rame stopped his music, grabbed Seth and flung him out of the way. A black furry ball with a gaping mouth and yellowish-brown fangs dropped with a splat to where Seth had been standing.

"What is that?" Seth cried, instinctively reaching over his shoulder to draw his sword.

"That is a Hebetudinous, Hebe for short," replied Rame. "They hunt in packs."

"AAAEEEEEEE!" came another scream from above Seth. This time Seth jumped to the side on his own. Another black furry creature bit the dust next to him.

"Don't move!" Rame shouted. "The Hebes are only dangerous if you walk or remain standing directly under them when they fall, mouth open, on top of you.

They would be more dangerous, except for the fact that they always scream before jumping."

"Always?" Seth asked nervously. "Don't they realize that this gives them away?"

"Yes, they are stupid to warn their prey that way. I am not sure why some ground-walking creature doesn't tell them that."

Seth smiled. He liked Rame's sense of humor, too! Imagine the hairy predators losing out because their prey did not tell them how to improve their attack!

This was a conspiracy of silence he would gladly join.

They moved on, each of them jumping out of the way every time there was a scream above. Seth looked back. It was almost pathetic: about fifteen furry balls were lying face down on the path. "Are they dead?"

"No, they are tougher than that. They play dead until they are sure that no one is watching them, and then they somehow climb back into their trees. If you thought one was injured or unconscious, and tried to pick it up, it would chomp you, and get you that way."

That made more sense! If the monster missed, and the prey felt secure and tried to take advantage, the monster would win after all. Probably more chomps were made by that route than by the initial drop. Again he had been too quick to assume foolishness on the part of another creature. That tendency of his could get him into trouble!

After passing the Hebe herd, they came to a stream which ran under a bridge across their path. Seth was quite thirsty now, and stooped to take a drink.

"Stop!" yelled Rame. "The stream may be unclean."

"But there shouldn't be pollution here in this wilderness!" Seth protested.

"The water is clear."

"There can be danger in what looks clean." The faun leaned over the stream and blew into his reed whistle, and a foul note came out. "Indeed it is unclean, I dare say deadly. Walk further; we will eventually run across another stream.

There, if it is safe, we shall drink and eat."

Seth's thirst had dried up. He did not want to learn what this world's poison could do to his body!

In due course they did come to another stream; this time when Rame blew into his whistle a lovely note issued forth. "We can drink here," the faun said, unnecessarily.

Seth knelt at the stream's edge, bent forward, and touched his lips to the cool water. Ahh, he thought, as he swallowed the refreshing liquid. He really hadn't had much to drink in the two days of his travel, other than the juice in the fruits he had eaten, and the pure stream water tasted fabulous.

He looked up--almost fell into the water. Could he believe his eyes? Rame was playing the reed whistle, and fruit was appearing out of the air before him!

"Magic?" Seth asked, bewildered. "Naturally," Rame responded. "Magic is the driving force on Earth Plane 4."

"But I thought that the Clan satyrs took away your magic!"

"That they did! This magic, however, is not mine. It is the magic of the reed whistle. You could perform it also, if you knew how to play."

That was interesting. Seth made a mental note: if he ever wanted to try doing magic himself, he would have to find a magic whistle, or some other magic object. He wasn't sure he believed in magic, but the evidence for it was certainly convincing, here.

Seth ate some of the fruit. It was delicious, just as the fruit of Malape's feast had been. Could this be more of the hamadryad's fruit, perhaps plucked and set out by her, waiting for Rame's whistle to conjure it at need?

After their meal, they rested briefly, then resumed their journey. Rame did not rush things in so many words, but he didn't waste any time either. Why was it so important to get to wherever they were going? As far as he knew, Seth was just a drowning teenager who had somehow landed here; he had no value to whatever powers that existed on this world.

Well, he would surely find out soon enough. Probably it was some misunderstanding, just the way the American Indians had a misunderstanding about the nature of the Spanish Conquistadors, supposing them to be gods. What a costly confusion that had been, to the Indians!

The foliage began to thin; then it faded out entirely. There were hardly any trees, just long grassy weeds. The ground was hardening to rock. The hard surface made it tougher for the faun, because his hoofs were adapted to the soft ground of the forest. To make matters worse, dusk was setting in, and they needed to find a somewhat sheltered area. Were there other hamadryads here who might provide it? That seemed unlikely, because there were so few trees here, and they were so scrawny.

"Draw your sword," Rame whispered. "We are in danger!"

Quickly Seth reached back and drew his weapon. Something was wrong: the tassel which before had been pearl white had turned jet black. There was no time to consider the tassel, though, for in the dim remnants of daylight Seth could see figures crawling out of the ground and charging toward them.

"Trolls!" Rame screamed. He had already skewered one of the creatures with an arrow.

Seth stood paralyzed with fear as approximately ten of the most hideous monsters imaginable charged him. They were vile-looking creatures, each about the size of a small man, with lumpy gray skin, huge calloused hands, and a disfigured lump with brown teeth and red eyes for a head. If they had been human punkers, perhaps he would have had a better notion what to do. But these--how could he fight horrible magical things?

Rame shot another. Soon, however, he would be in trouble, as the trolls were coming too close to combat effectively with arrows. That jolted Seth out of his horrified trance; he couldn't let his friend be overrun!

He charged forward toward the ugly beasts, leading with his sword. The first troll jumped through the air, and Seth easily lifted his blade, impaling the monstrous body upon it. Dark blood flowed across the weapon as the troll died.

Seth lowered the point, and the hulk slid off.

Well, that had turned out to be easy enough! Now if he could just keep his gorge down....

Glancing to the side, Seth saw Rame holding off two trolls with a dagger. He was truly an expert fighter.

There was no time to get sick. More trolls were coming at him. Seth swung at the next, who had a heavy wooden club.

The club connected with the sword--and knocked it out of Seth's hand. What a blow! For a moment all Seth was aware of was the numbness of his hand.

Then two trolls charged into him and knocked him onto his back. He fought desperately, knowing that if he didn't he would be done for. He was wrestling with the troll who landed on his chest, while the other troll bit into his leg. Ouch!

In a fit of pain, Seth closed his fist, leaving open two fingers, and violently thrust them into the red orb of the troll on his chest. The creature appeared shocked, but seemed not to feel too much pain, for it kept fighting.

Seth brought his hands around its neck to feel for an area of soft tissue. He found it. Drawing back, he stabbed into the creature's throat. The troll fell off his chest, clutching at the caved-in part of its neck.

The other troll continued to bite into Seth's leg. Groping to his sides, Seth found a hefty rock; with a surge of strength he heaved it into the air and slammed it down on the troll's head. He scrambled up, knowing that more would soon be attacking.

Seth looked toward Rame, who had apparently dispatched all but three of the trolls. Two of these were trying to drag him to the ground, while the third was biting his ankle.

Seth looked about and saw his sword. He ran to fetch it, glad that while the troll who had bitten him had penetrated deep enough to hurt, it had not done serious damage; he had no trouble on his feet. He picked up the sword and charged Rame's attackers.

Hearing his approach, the two trolls pushing Rame turned around. Seth did not hesitate. With one lethal swing he sliced through the necks of both trolls.

The dark blood spouted, and they pitched over, their heads rolling away.

Rame, now having two free hands, reached into his quiver, grabbed an arrow, and drove it through the neck of the last one, who was still gnawing his ankle.

All was quiet. Seth noticed that the tassel on his sword was once again white.

He stared at it. What was going on?

"The tassel," Rame explained, "turns black when the person possessing the sword is in physical danger. Since it was on your back, I saw the color change before you did."

Rame took out his reed whistle and played a powerful, lively melody. Seth watched in amazement as the bite on his leg and the one on Rame's ankle healed themselves with a visible speed. The pain, however, did not go completely away. There must, he thought, be limitations on the good the reed whistle could do. Malape's touch had alleviated the pain as well as the injuries.

"Let us go," Rame said briskly. "We must find shelter. We will need to spend one more night in the wilderness before we reach the Teuton Empire."

By Seth's judgment, according to the advice of Sen-Tree, they should have been there already. But they weren't going directly, and he suspected this was because the faun was taking them the safest way. The unsafe way would surely be no pleasure!

They walked on until they reached a wooded area where they were able to build a shelter. It seemed that his own strategy for spending a night was valid here, where there were no lovely and friendly nymphs.

They ate mostly in silence. Then Seth watched as Rame slept. He would wake his friend when he couldn't keep alert any more.

He tried to figure out what was happening to him. Again he felt sorrow in his heart for his family. If they thought him dead--

As before, he drifted without realizing it into sleep. Again, his dreams were of home. This time, however, Seth was not a participant. He was watching his family, and someone was there who was pretending to be him.

Four

_The Chosen_

Seth woke, blinded by the brilliant rays of sunlight cutting through the tree tops and slanting into the hut. Rame was up, and he motioned for Seth to join him outside the shelter. There was a vaguely familiar aroma.

"Is that bread?" Seth inquired.

The satyr was tearing a large brown fruit off a plant. "It is not bread made from grain. It is, however, a fruit which tastes very much like it."

"Why pick it if you can conjure it?"

"Observe." Rame picked up his reed whistle and began to play a very compelling melody. The fruit began to quiver. It shook, until it was practically jumping.

With the last staccato note, it vanished.

"What happened?" Seth asked, dismayed.

"Nothing negative. I could not conjure this fruit because I had never before encountered the plant, other than in satyr text books. Once it is in my instrument, however, I can conjure as much of it as I need."

Rame played again, and the fruit reappeared. "Oh--like doing a cut and paste on a computer!" Seth exclaimed.

The faun gazed at him blankly. "We shall cut it, but we have nothing with which to paste it to anything, if that were desirable."

Seth laughed. "I'm sorry. I used a--an expression from my own frame. A way to make copies of something by removing it from one region, and restoring it to another, as many times as one wishes."

"Yes, that is correct. I did not know that you knew how to do that."

"I don't. It requires a machine--a pretty fancy one at that. And it doesn't work on physical things, just text. That is, writing."

"That does not seem extraordinarily useful," Rame said doubtfully. "I do not mean to be unduly critical."

"No, you're right! What you can do is much better!"

With that, Seth and Rame sat down to eat breakfast. After a light meal of bread and a fruit tasting like peaches, they set off on the last leg of their journey. There were no hazards, and eventually the path came to the top of a hill. The other side of the hill dropped off into a huge valley, and in this valley was a city.

The city was awesome. The streets were red cobblestone, the stone houses had thatched roofs, and standing out for all to see in the center was an enormous castle. The castle had gray stone walls topped by bright red parapets, and on top of all four towers were white flags with red emblems.

"What do the emblems signify?" Seth asked.

"I have never before been to the actual city," Rame said. "But I know that the flags show that it is the capital of the Teuton Empire. Whether they mean something more than that, I don't know."

"Where do we go?"

"There." Rame pointed to the castle.

That was what Seth had both hoped and feared. He still did not know what this was all about, but that castle looked important, and that was encouraging--and alarming. He needed answers to his questions, and they were more likely to be provided by the leaders of this realm. But he was not at all sure that he would like the answers that came.

Slowly and carefully they descended into the valley. Seth had to slow down to help Rame, whose hoofs were not made for climbing any more than for hard rock.

This surprised him; he knew that goats were sure-footed, and these were like goats' feet. But appearances could be deceptive.

As they reached the level ground and walked through the town, Seth noticed the townsmen staring. "Are they not used to seeing fauns?"

"My friend, it is a human man, in a skirt made of leaves, wearing white covers on his feet, that they are not used to seeing," Rame replied politely.

Seth looked at himself. He did indeed appear ridiculous. What the townspeople were wearing looked rather silly to him--but of course this was their land, not his. And, he had to confess, even in his own land he would have been quite strange in his present outfit! Had he gone among those punkers in a costume like this--

"I guess it is a matter of perspective," Seth said, thinking back to his encounter with Sen-Tree.

Soon enough the huge castle towered before them. It was surrounded by a moat which they had not seen from the ravine. There was a rather large creature with even larger teeth swimming in it. Rame signaled to Seth, and they walked to another side. Here there was a lowered drawbridge, with two guards armed with swords.

It turned out to be no ceremonial post. The guards were alert, and they moved immediately to bar the way. "What business do you have with His Majesty?" one demanded, while the other stood back with his hand on his sword hilt.

"This man may be a Chosen," Rame responded.

"A what?" Seth asked, thinking he had misheard.

Rame did not answer. The guards, tough and experienced as they evidently were, seemed incredulous. The near one reached into an alcove in the drawbridge housing and brought out a box. "Hold out your hand," he ordered, in a we'll-abolish-this-nonsense tone.

Seth did not trust this. He did not move.

"Do it," Rame said tightly.

Seth extended his hand. The guard held the box under it. He then waved his hand over Seth's. There was a tingling sensation, and Seth's forefinger began to bleed. Only a drop welled out, but that was amazing, for there was no cut.

The drop fell to the box and turned white.

The guard stared. "It's true!" he exclaimed.

"I thought it might be," Rame said. "That's why I brought him here."

The guard recovered from his surprise. "Now you," he said to Rame.

"Oh, I'm only his guide!" the faun protested. "When I thought he might be a Chosen, I had to bring him immediately. Anyone would have. As soon as I see him safely recognized, I will return to my forest."

"I don't care who you are," the guard said firmly. "I am required to test anyone who might be a Chosen." He held out the box.

"Do it," Seth said, with half a smile.

Rame shrugged and put out his hand. A drop of red blood welled out similarly, and fell to the box--where it also turned white.

The faun stared. "But I never--I couldn't be--"

"Thank heaven the last are here," the rear guard whispered, impressed.

The forward guard spun about. "Please follow me, Chosen."

A confused Seth, and even more confused Rame, followed him. They crossed the bridge and entered the lavishly decorated castle. The town was beautiful, but it paled before the interior of this edifice. Apparently Teutonia was a wealthy empire. The stone floor was crystalline, and the walls were hung with elaborately woven carpets showing scenes of action. The ceiling of the entrance hall was arched so intricately that it resembled a church.

The guard brought them to a room closed off by curtains. News of their presence had evidently already spread, for a servant was ready with new clothing for them both. They were obliged to don brown knickers-type pants, and black jacket tops with numerous pockets.

The next chamber had four chairs, two of which were already occupied. Seth and Rame sat down in the other two. The people in the other chairs appeared to be a few years older than Seth, though still young enough. One was a husky, rugged-looking man; the other an attractive woman with oddly striped hair.

Both were clad in outfits similar to those of Seth and Rame. Seth wondered whether the woman had had to change in front of the guard, as he and Rame had, and what her reaction might have been to that. Not that it was any of his business.

The room was lit by a kind of glow that seemed to have no source. Magic, Seth thought, finding it easier to accept this than it would have been a few days ago. He glanced at Rame, who seemed to be as bewildered as himself. So the faun had thought he was merely guiding a potential Chosen one--and turned out to be one himself! Whatever it was to be Chosen.

The glow dimmed. The man who had given Seth his clothing entered. He stood before the four for a moment without speaking. Suddenly he did not seem like a servant.

"We realize that you are wondering why you are here," the man said. "I assure you that in due time your questions will be answered. My name is Turcot, and I am the Emperor's top adviser. The man you are about to meet is the current ruler of the entire Teuton Empire, of which this city is the capital. I suggest that you give him the respect that you would your own leaders on your own worlds. Consider this expedience if you prefer; it is best to honor the forms until you understand them well enough to violate." He smiled briefly, and Seth got the very strong impression that there was absolutely nothing humorous about this. There was a new glow at another door.

"All rise for His Majesty, Emperor Towk," Turcot said loudly.

All of them obliged, as much from confusion as respect. The Emperor entered.

He was an old man, who had a look of sternness and benevolence about him. He was ordinary physically, yet something about his presence took Seth's breath away.

"Tirsa, Vidav, Seth and Rame," the Emperor said abruptly, "you have been brought here for reasons of extreme magnitude. You are the Chosen."

Seth was amazed. How had the Emperor known their names? The two others might have been known before, but neither Rame nor Seth himself had given their names. This was growing stranger by the minute!

"After hearing what I say, you may choose whether to participate in a quest,"

the Emperor continued. "If you do not participate, all of our worlds will suffer dire consequences. If you do, you have no guarantee of survival.

Regardless of your choice, you will not be able to return home."

The four Chosen sat in stunned silence. The Emperor was pulling no punches! He seemed to know all about all four of them--and knew that they were from different worlds. That they were some sort of key to some world-shaking project. Seth could tell by the reactions of the others that they were as amazed as he was.

"Before I tell you exactly what your mission is, let me give you a little background information. First, we are all from the same Earth; a different awareness, but the same planet. There are, as far as we know, four separate planes or levels of awareness of Earth. Each is governed not completely but partially by a particular force. Earth Plane 1, where Vidav comes from, is driven by physical strength. Tirsa, who arrived at the castle first and already has some idea of what is going on, comes from Earth Plane 2, governed by mental ability. Seth comes from Earth Plane 3, where the driving force is science. Rame is from this plane, Earth Plane 4, where the governing force is magic. You are obviously not here accidentally. Your presence is needed for the welfare of all of the planes."

At this point the large man named Vidav stood and said, "Erxvq naqstx zet tzas argqynofskx!"

"One moment," the Emperor said. He gestured to Turcot, who handed each of them a small pill. "Swallow this. It will allow you to talk in the language of the person or group to whom you are speaking, as I am doing now. Rame does not need one, for all intelligent life on Earth Plane 4 can communicate with all other intelligent life."

Seth found that hard to believe. The Emperor had been speaking in English! How could a pill affect anything other than the body? Language was something of quite another nature.

But he saw Vidav and Tirsa taking their pills. The woman was so well proportioned that she made even the strange clothing look good. Her hair, which had seemed odd at first glance, now seemed appropriate to her; apparently it grew naturally in black and white tresses. Her eyebrows echoed it, being similarly zebra striped. If what the Emperor said was true, she was from another world, or at least another aspect of the one he knew, and spoke a completely foreign language. He wanted to understand her when she talked! So he took his pill, deciding to trust in what the Emperor said, even if it was nonsense.

Vidav repeated his sentence. "What do you mean, we can't go home?" Apparently he had been too shocked by the news to ask the question immediately. That much Seth could understand; he should have asked about it himself!

"There is a delicate balance, an equilibrium, in and between every plane," the Emperor said. "All creatures born in a particular plane stay in that plane; the balance of their world requires this. There is, however, a time immediately before death when a person is in a state of limbo, and not in one definite plane. Magic is a very powerful force, that extends into the state of limbo. By using magic we were able to draw you out of limbo just before your deaths. You were not dead; that would have been too late. Not only would it have stopped us from bringing you here, it would have made it pointless had it been possible. You were, in a sense, split. While in that brief period of limbo you were recreated by magic."

He paused to gaze at them a moment. "I see you are having difficulty with this concept. That is hardly surprising! Let me put it another way: you are doubles of yourselves. Both you and your doubles look exactly alike, and your doubles are all alive in their respective planes, except in the case of Rame, who needed no such translation. By keeping one set of you on your own planes we have not disturbed Earth's balance. You have actually been borne to this world without harming our balance."

He paused again. This time there were no questions. All four seemed stunned.

Certainly Seth was; he had tackled the oddities of this new existence with the assumption that it was temporary, and that at some later date he would find a way to return to his own realm. To have that assumption so bluntly refuted--no, he just couldn't accept that!

"I understand your concerns," the Emperor continued. "But do not worry. Your friends, your lives and your families will be treated by your doubles exactly as you would have done. The doubles are _you."_ He oriented on Vidav. "Let me try to explain why you cannot return home, in this situation. In order for any of you to return, your double would have to enter limbo once again by the threat of death. We cannot arrange that; it must come in its own fashion. Your doubles could all very easily live long lives, dying of natural causes later than you do. Only sheerest chance could set it up to enable you to return--if we knew exactly when to act. We do not; we are not clairvoyant."

"Now wait a minute!" Seth exclaimed. "How did you know to bring us in now?"

Despite his resistance to the idea, he found himself accepting it. Certainly it explained a lot that otherwise would remain a mystery.

Turcot's face turned grim. "You must not address the Emperor in such a tone!"

But Emperor Towk made a gesture of negation. "They are new to our culture, and we expect much of them. The forms are the least of our concerns." Then he faced Seth. "This is an exceptional situation," he responded evenly. "We had no clairvoyance, but we did have an ancient prophecy. We did not actually fetch you; we knew only that the concurrence of four Chosen would be available at this time, three from the other planes, one from this one. We knew the instant to act, and we extended the full force of our magic at that prophesied moment. This enabled each of you to split, so that you could not only survive, but come to us here. But that exhausted our effort. We had no knowledge of your precise points of crossover, and no resources to search every cranny of the Empire to locate you. You had to find your own separate ways here. Because you were strangers to this plane, we hoped that your presence would soon be evident; all citizens of the Empire were instructed to assist any obvious strangers to come to this spot, as Rame knows."

"But I did not know that I was to be the fourth Chosen!" the faun exclaimed.

"I'm not even human!"

The Emperor smiled. "We did not know either. But we did know that the Chosen from this plane would feel the urge to come here, after the magic signal went out, so the guards were ordered to test all who approached the castle on any pretext. Because the special magic, which affects all Chosen, not merely the ones from other planes, causes the blood to turn white when tested in a certain way, we had a sure way to identify each of you. Thereafter we used incidental magic to obtain the immediate facts about each of you--your names, languages, and so on. What is in your hearts we do not know; magic does not extend to the depths of human or near-human nature."

His gaze lifted to cover them all again. "Regardless of your preferences, you will need to remain here for some time. For a while, because you and your doubles were created from one, you will be able to see your world when your active consciousness relaxes. When you dream, you will be seeing through the consciousness of your other selves. However, in time, we believe those dreams will fade, and you will be completely of this plane."

Seth thought back to his dream about Rian. Thank God he was all right, and thank God that someone, even a clone, would take care of Seth's family. "You have explained how we came here. Now tell us why!" Seth demanded. He spoke more vehemently than he had intended; he had been profoundly disturbed by what the Emperor had said. He was pleased to note a supportive reaction from others of the small group, especially the woman Tirsa. They might be from different worlds, but they were united in their abrupt separation from all that they had known before.

"Please," Emperor Towk said. "I was getting to that. Although the four planes are different, there are various similarities. A buildup of evil in one plane is a direct result of a buildup of evil in one of the other three. The situations are bad on each plane, as you are aware on your individual bases.

We cannot be sure which is the originator and which the follower; perhaps they feed on each other. But we do know it is becoming perilous for all the planes."

Seth thought of the nuclear arms buildup and the war in which Russia and the United States had recently "unofficially" fought each other. That had been just one in a long chain of similar episodes across the world. The populations of some small nations had been decimated, and in spite of a brief hopeful time things did not seem to be improving. A buildup of evil? Yes, it was fair to call it that! He looked at the faces of Rame, Vidav and Tirsa, and knew that their worlds also faced serious problems.

"In our world the cause of evil is Nefarious, an extremely powerful sorcerer.

The situation here has been thoroughly assessed, and it is our conclusion that no one from our world can stop him. The Empire itself is helpless against his magic; our magic is puny compared to his, and our economic and military powers cannot compete with magic of this nature. If he cannot be stopped here, then neither will the evil in your worlds, because of the linkage. It will be your task to do what the Empire cannot, and eliminate the threat that Nefarious represents to all our planes."

For the first time Tirsa spoke. "Forgive me if I seem dull, Emperor Towk. But is it reasonable to expect a rough man, a cultured woman, a faun and an impetuous youth, most of whom are ignorant not only of magic but of the ways of your world, to accomplish what your no doubt competent minions can not?"

Seth loved the sound of her voice, which was melodious, and appreciated her reasoning, which was sound. But he hated that reference to "an impetuous youth," partly because he could not deny its accuracy. He would have to settle down and try to give a more mature account of himself. Meanwhile, he had noticed that even her eyes were striped, in their fashion: they had concentric light and dark patterns. The effect was eerie--and intriguing.

The Emperor smiled. "You are hardly dull, Tirsa! You have cut to the very heart of our problem. I must answer no, it is not reasonable to expect this, and indeed we have no certainty of the outcome of this struggle. All that the prophecy guarantees us is a chance; it does not indicate which side will be victorious. But since we seem to have no chance otherwise, we must take what offers, however unlikely it may seem, and that is the Chosen.

"Your group may seem small. Certainly it is, and for excellent reason. We have ascertained that we can not attempt it with more than four. A large group could readily be detected by the evil sorcerer's spies. The operation must be done in the utmost stealth, for if he knows where you are he will destroy you.

I ask you not to doubt me in this: he has the means to obliterate you, from any distance, once he knows precisely where you are and what your nature is."

"But with such power, he will be able to locate us very soon," Vidav said.

"Perhaps not. To an extent, his power is his liability, in this case. He has, among other things, the ability to sense people by their magic. Because of this, an attack on him by the people of this world who possess magic would be impossible. He would always know where we were, and would eliminate us at his whim. But all of you, Rame not excepted, lack the ability of self-driven magic. Therefore he will not be able to detect you by your natures, and you will be able to approach him and surprise him. But he knows of your existence, so will be alert, and his spies will be everywhere. You must avoid them or, if discovered, kill them, to maintain your secret--but even that is not good, because his spies surely report in regularly, and he will soon know if any disappear. So this will be a great challenge--but you do have resources, and perhaps you will be able to succeed. Rame knows the terrain, and also understands the nature of Nefarious. The rest of you have been Chosen, not randomly, but by a prophecy and a spell related to it. You will not be unprepared. Every possible item that can help you will be at your disposal, and if you survive, you may live your lives here in whatever manner you desire. If it is possible to defeat Nefarious, you are the ones who can do it."

"We may not be unprepared," Tirsa remarked dryly. "But it might be an overstatement to refer to us as prepared."

"Accurately put," the Emperor agreed. "I said before that you have a choice; once again I must state how important this choice is. It will determine the fate of this world--and your own. Circumstances require haste; please, if you wish to leave, do so now. There will be no penalty; we know that you must do this of your free choice, or failure is assured."

Seth realized suddenly that this choice was upon him, and the others. He had either to object now, or go along. The thing was of course crazy; he had only the word of a man who claimed to be an Emperor that the mission was important, and no assurance that he would survive it, let alone be successful. It was no good, to let himself be stampeded into such a dangerous undertaking on a strange world!

The room was quiet. None of the others were leaving. Were they each waiting for someone else to make the first move? Rame, beside him, was absolutely still; what was he thinking? He glanced at Tirsa, and realized that whatever she did, he would do too. He knew her even less than he knew this world or this mission, and cursed himself for a fool. But he would not leave if she didn't.

Emperor Towk nodded. "I see that the prophecy was correct and we have chosen wisely. I thank you, each and all, for this commitment. You have brought hope to the planes."

Commitment? Seth was ashamed. He had merely waited to see what the others would do, especially Tirsa. His was the commitment of indecision!

"We will feast, and then you will be shown to your rooms," the Emperor said.

"There is much to be done tomorrow!"

The four Chosen were escorted to a huge dining room, where they met the Empress, a gracious lady in a surprisingly ordinary gown. Evidently this world wasn't much for fancy clothing.

They sat down to feast. This time it was not simply fruit; meats and pastries of all kinds were served, together with delicious, sparkling beverage that, he realized belatedly, was somewhat intoxicating. He was enjoying himself greatly, and only hoped that he wasn't making a fool of himself because of his light-headedness. He noticed that Tirsa hardly touched her drink, after the first sip; she had been too smart to gulp it down the way he had. Her plane featured mental ability, after all. Meanwhile, Rame conjured many new foods into his reed whistle, perhaps more than he actually ate. Vidav ate slowly and steadily, his mood hardly lightening.

Aside from the music of the faun, they ate in silence. Tomorrow, perhaps, they would talk.

After the dinner, each guest was shown to his quarters by a rather pretty maid named Domela who seemed to be assigned to them. She had lustrous auburn hair and eyes to match. Seth wondered whether they had selected the prettiest maid for the most honored guests, to encourage a positive attitude.

Seth knew he should clean up, but first he tested the bed. He sank into the soft, fluffy surface and closed his eyes for a moment--and didn't open them again. Plenty of time to worry about this world tomorrow! Tonight he slept.

Five

_Training_

There was a sound in the far distance. Seth tried to ignore it, for it disturbed his sleep, but it persisted. Finally he woke and sat up--and the sound was gone.

Relieved, he lay back in the darkness, and soon he was back asleep. But the sound returned to pester him.

Again he woke, irritated, and again there was nothing. It was like a mosquito that zeroed in on him only when he wasn't alert. He hated that!

This time he turned on his light, which he could do merely by speaking to the switch, and checked the room. There was nothing, only the bare walls. He realized that he had fallen asleep in his clothes, so he got out of them and went to the lavatory to wash himself. That made him feel better; he did not like sleeping grimy. Then he lay down again, leaving the light on.

He was soon unconscious. As part of his martial arts training he had learned how to relax, deliberately, so as to focus only on the immediate lesson, or to proceed further to sleep. He remained tired, and knew he needed a good night's rest.

The sound returned. _Go away!_ he thought.

Instead, it became louder, like a mosquito homing in on a succulent earlobe.

Seth wrenched himself out of sleep and sat up--to silence. The light remained, but not the noise.

Angry, he lay back yet again. This time he did not relax; he feigned sleep, hoping to catch whatever it was unguarded, so that he could identify it and deal with it. But the sound did not return.

Well, at least he had gotten rid of it! He relaxed, and once more slept.

Whereupon the sound returned.

Seth was aggravated but not stupid. Realizing that obvious consciousness banished the sound, he schooled himself to wake slowly, this time tuning in on the distraction. He did not move, he only listened.

The sound grew steadily stronger, until it was like the noise of a mighty engine, steady yet melodious in its fashion. Becoming intrigued, Seth focused further, trying to understand it. He was now fully awake, but lying quite still, his eyes closed. Would opening them banish the sound?

He cracked one eyelid open. The light was bright, but the sound did not fade.

He opened the other eye, moving no other part of his body. Now he was staring at the ceiling, and the sound remained. He had fooled it; it had not fled with his awakening.

There was nothing in the room. Indeed, the sound did not seem to come from anywhere outside. It seemed to be in his head. This was no mosquito! _What are you?_ he thought, addressing the sound.

To his surprise, he got an answer, of a sort. _Who?_ It wasn't exactly a sound, but an aspect of it, a questioning.

_I am Seth, of course!_ he thought, becoming quite interested. _Who are you?_

_Seth!_ It was more like a voice, now, though not exactly, _I am Tirsa._

"What?" Seth exclaimed, jerking up his head.

He was alone, and the sound was gone. He had blown it!

Still, he had determined that it was not his sleeping state, but his relaxation that made it happen. Now he knew it was Tirsa, using her mind to contact him. The Emperor had said that she was from a plane governed by mental ability. That had not meant much to him at the time, distracted as he had been by everything else, including her appearance, but he had assumed that it meant she was especially intelligent. Now he realized that it could mean something else entirely: telepathy!

She was using telepathy to contact him? He was delighted by the prospect! He lay back, relaxed, and opened his mind.

The sound came quickly. It was no longer a noise, but seemed more like a carrier beam for a signal of communication. Soon it seemed to fade, as he searched for the meaningful part of it.

_Seth_--_did you answer?_ the thought came. _If you receive me, do not speak or react. Answer with your mind only. Focus your thought and I will tune it in._

He concentrated. _I hear you. I am answering. Do you hear me?_

_I receive you,_ she responded immediately. _Not with the ears; there is no sound. With the mind. Your thought is crude, imperfect; focus it more._

He tried. There was a quality about her thought that was not present in speech; it was more rounded, less defined, yet more meaningful. It was as though he were receiving a radio signal directly in his head, fraught with nuances, only a few of which he could interpret. He did his best to emulate it, feeling clumsy. _You are beautiful!_

The freighting of nuances doubled. _This is appreciation or impertinence?_

_Yes,_ he agreed, marveling at his audacity. He had intended to formulate a routine communication, but his mental image of her had expanded as he tried to focus on her as receiver, and somehow he had sent that instead. Now he was embarrassed.

_In your plane, such opinions are not expressed?_ she inquired.

_Not to strangers,_ he returned. _In my plane we cannot read thoughts, so we think very freely. I would not have spoken such a thing to you, but it is a true thought._ He hoped that would mollify her.

_I am not antagonized, merely curious,_ she returned, again reading more than he had intended. _I am of course beautiful by human physical standards; this requires no statement. I assumed you had a motive for expressing the obvious; now I understand that you were not aware you were expressing it. You are doing well in your communication, and this is excellent practice._

_Thank you,_ he thought sincerely.

_You are very quick to adapt, considering that your plane does not do this.

You may be impetuous, but you are also clever._

_Thank you,_ he thought again, deeply pleased by the compliment.

_But you must learn to distinguish statements of fact or opinion from efforts to please or displease. Now that we have established contact, you cannot hide your thoughts from me, so it is best to keep them in order._

He could not hide his thoughts from her? That bothered him. Suppose he thought something negative--or, worse, erotic?

_Precisely. It is not good to burden other parties with undisciplined thoughts. Treat the matter as you would spoken things in your own plane._

Certainly he would not go around telling every attractive woman he encountered how sexy she was!

_I asked you not to do that,_ she thought reprovingly. _I have as I explained no interest in repetition of the obvious._

Brother! He concentrated on the basic times-tables, trying to blot out any thought of the way she looked.

_No, this is uncomfortable for me,_ she protested. _I do not care to rehearse your mathematics. Simply direct your thoughts appropriately._

_I'm trying to!_ he thought. _But I'm an impetuous youth!_

_True. I shall make an allowance. Now I must try to alert the others. You may sleep now, so as to provide no further distraction. Remember: do not express this matter verbally._

_Why not? I think it's a great thing, communicating telepathically!_

_Because I have sensed hostile elements within the castle. I presume these are agents of the sorcerer we are to oppose. Our physical expressions may be monitored, but I think this is not so for our mental ones. If we are to succeed in our joint mission, we must not only develop such a linking, we must conceal it from those agents. I have ascertained that the Emperor himself is not aware of the precise nature of my mental ability; it would be best to keep that private._

That made so much sense that Seth had no further question. _But I don't know how to tune out,_ he thought.

_Now that telepathy is possible, I'll be thinking of it constantly. How do I sleep?_

_I will help you. Use your relaxation technique for your body, and I will pacify your mind._

Seth attempted to do that, fearing that it was impossible. He told the light to turn off, and relaxed his individual muscles, but his mind was raging with excitement. Then abruptly he felt her presence, like a bath of warm oil, and before he knew it he sank out of awareness.

* * *

He woke refreshed, to the natural light of morning. What a dream he had had!

Tirsa, telepathy--what could have sent him off on such a notion?

He had to smile. It required no psychoanalyst to fathom that he had met a beautiful and intelligent woman who was as much a stranger to this weird magic world as he was himself. Naturally he was interested in her! She was a sharp contrast to the teenage girls he had encountered on his own plane, and of course wouldn't have been part of his social world even if she had lived next door to him. But here she was like a beacon, an ideal figure, and he couldn't help thinking about her. What was more natural than dreaming that she had made secret contact with him? He loved the idea of telepathy; he had always been interested in ESP and the study of paranormal powers. It would be a dream come true to be able to practice it himself. Especially with such a person as Tirsa, whose mysteries became more intriguing as they were explored.

But he had always schooled himself to know the difference between dreams and reality. A dream might be of the perfect woman; the reality was that if such a woman did exist, she would hardly be interested in an impetuous youth. So he could dream all he wanted to, at night, but by day he would deal with reality.

It had always been that way, with dreams that had become increasingly fanciful as the reality turned increasingly grim. The dreams were, he realized, his way of compensating for a life that was not living up to expectations. That was all right, as long as he never confused the two.

Yet what a turn reality had taken! He had been about to drown--and then turned up on a world where magic governed. Now he was committed to a quest whose nature he knew virtually nothing about, except that it would be dangerous. Now that he was here, his main desire was to return to the dull world of his origin. Emperor Towk said he could not do that--but perhaps the Emperor merely wanted him and the other Chosen to undertake the mission, and knew that they would not do so if they had a real choice. If they succeeded in dealing with Nefarious, it well might turn out that there _was_ a way for each to go home, that the Emperor had somehow forgotten.

He had been dressing as he considered these things. Now he touched the door panel, and the door slid open to admit him to the hall which led to the main chambers of the castle.

The others were already having breakfast, served by the buxom maid Domela, though they did not seem to have been there long. He should have paid more attention to his preparations, instead of lost in his thoughts. Rame greeted him with a smile, but both Tirsa and Vidav ignored him. What else should he have expected?

He ate quickly, catching up, hardly paying attention to the odd appearance and taste of the fruits. The Emperor had promised that there would be much to do, and Seth believed it; he wanted to be ready.

The Emperor's adviser Turcot appeared. "First we shall instruct you in the use of some of the magic items we have prepared for you," he said.

The items were impressive. There was a miniature tent that could fit inside a pack; when invoked, it expanded to become a full-size tent for four, complete with sleeping bags and insect netting. There was a stove that was just a foot-long rod; when stuck upright in the ground and invoked it radiated enough heat to warm the tent, even in a snowstorm. There were tools that expanded similarly: a shovel, axe, heavy hammer, and an assortment of knives. There were boots that greatly facilitated walking; in fact, each step in them was the equivalent of thirty paces of the mundane kind.

"Caution," Turcot warned. "Never invoke these inappropriately. If you invoke the stove-pipe while it is _in_ your pack, it may set your pack on fire and destroy everything else that is in it. If you invoke the tent while you are within it, it will close to its small size around you. This could be awkward.

It will not actually harm you, but it will tear and destroy itself in its effort to complete its imperative. These are only items; they have no human discretion."

The four nodded. They would be very careful about using such artifacts!

They were taken out to a nearby countryside, where they rehearsed their travel technique. Each in turn had to invoke all of the magic items, and practice using them. They had to don their boots, which had magically perfect fits, but which were as awkward as skates or stilts to use the first time. "Take small steps," Turcot warned.

Seth took what he thought was a small step--and abruptly found himself almost crashing into a tree. That tree had been fifty feet away; now it was close enough to touch! He would have to watch where he was going, if he didn't want to bash his head in! But once he got the hang of them, he found the boots marvelously competent. They did not exactly speed him up; it was more like matter transmission, with his body phasing from the rear foot at one location to the forefoot as much as a hundred feet away. There could be, he learned to his surprise, trees or even houses between the two spots; it didn't matter.

Just so long as there was no tree at the spot he landed! He would not, it turned out, actually merge with the tree; his body would be shunted aside, by a protective spell associated with the boots. But the effect would be like slipping on a banana peel, as he was abruptly set down where he hadn't planned to be.

Rame was very quick to become proficient with the boots. His goatlike hoofs disappeared into them, and it looked as if he had normal human feet, which was strange. But his natural agility enabled him to adapt rapidly, and in moments he was stepping from region to region, without passing through the spots between.

Tirsa had no trouble about banging into things, because she took very ladylike steps and did not go far, but that was a problem in itself. "Farther, woman!"

Turcot directed. "You must keep up with the others." She frowned, and forced herself to take a giant step that would have been disastrous in a skirt, but wasn't in the pantaloons. She got there, but did not seem comfortable. Seth could have sworn that her hair-stripes were more intense than before, as if they reflected her concentration.

Vidav, accustomed to carrying his own weight, did not want to use the boots.

"I can keep up," he protested, and demonstrated by running at a rate that dropped Seth's jaw. The guy was like a two-legged racing car!

But Turcot was unimpressed. "Keep up with them as they cross that ravine," he suggested, pointing.

The others obligingly took three steps each, crossing plain and forest and ravine without effort, to stand on a knoll and look back. Vidav ran, but could not match their magical paces, and had to stop completely at the ravine, which was about forty feet wide and hundreds deep. Grudgingly, he donned his boots, took a step--and wound up way beyond them. He had put far too much power into it.

By the day's end, they were all reasonably proficient with their magical devices. Seth was exhilarated but tired, not so much from the physical effort, but the mental: accepting and using things which he had once thought to be impossible. Those boots--not exactly seven leagues, but plenty to handle anyway.

He cleaned up, noting the darkening beard on his face. Well, Vidav was bearded; that seemed to be the best way, here. He lay down and slept almost instantly.

The sound came. Abruptly alert, Seth tuned in on it. _I am here, Tirsa,_ he thought.

_I tried to reach the others last night, but could not,_ she thought. _Their minds are not as open as yours._

_Thanks, I think! Anything I can do to help?_ He did not question the contact; if this was a dream, he wanted to stay with it.

_Yes, you may be able to help. But you must not dismiss this as fantasy. It is not magic, it is direct mental contact._

_Why wasn't there any during the day, then?_

_Because of the need for secrecy. I cast about, and verified the presence of at least three spies. I did not want you to betray the nature of this communication, so did not contact you._

_You don't have much confidence in me!_ he protested, hurt.

_I have asked you before not to restate the obvious. I fear your impulsive nature. You could have reacted in a manner that the spies would have noted, and thereby done irreparable damage._

_Well, maybe it's that same impulsive nature that enables me to accept your thoughts when the others can't!_ he retorted.

_True. So you must join with me in making the attempt. Linked, we shall have enhanced power of communication, and this may suffice._

Seth decided that he would much rather be linked with her, than neglected by her. _I'm game._

_Please reduce the romantic implication,_ she thought. _It is a nuisance when there is something important to be done._

He had been caught by the broader aspect of telepathy again! If he hadn't known before that she had no interest in romance, she had certainly put him straight. _I'll try._

_That is not true. I am interested in romance, but not with you._

He ground his teeth. _I got the message. Now if we can cut out the irrelevant nuances..._

This time her laughter caught him, making him laugh too, involuntarily. Then they settled down to business.

She could not describe exactly what she wanted him to do, but it seemed like pushing a car out of a mudhole, so he pictured himself doing that. He heaved and heaved--and the car began to move. Tirsa seemed to be in the driver's seat, steering it, but pushing too.

_What is this?_ a gruff thought came.

_Tirsa. Open your mind, Vidav, so I can communicate._

_Get out of my mind, alien temptress! I have no need of a succubus!_

Seth suppressed a laugh. A succubus, he remembered, was a demoness who came to men in their sleep, seducing them to evil. Vidav had no more interest in Tirsa than she had in Seth!

_Must I remind you yet again about stating the obvious?_ her thought shot back, feeling irritated.

Seth couldn't help it: he liked that irritation. She had been served as she served him.

But she was already addressing Vidav. _Please keep your crude interpretations to yourself. I know you are married and committed to your wife and children.

But you will never return to them unless the four of us who have been Chosen succeed in working together. There are spies in the castle who mean mischief for us. We must be able to coordinate without alerting them. Now focus on me, and learn to speak with your mind alone._

Vidav was unimpressed. _It is the nature of empires to have spies. Have you identified them?_

_Do you wish their names or descriptions?_

_Descriptions._

She sent a mental picture of one of the scullery boys they had seen. Then another, of the maid Domela. A third, of a noble to whom they had been briefly introduced.

Now Vidav was impressed, as was Seth, both by her visual imagery and her apparent alertness. She had obviously been checking every person with whom they came in contact. If her effort had not been evident to the Chosen, it surely wasn't known by anyone else.

_I wondered about that noble,_ Vidav thought. _He had a smell about him. And that maid_--_the way she keeps smiling at me, and bending forward in that low dress. I thought she was interested in_--_but no wonder, if she's a spy!_

Then, after a pause: _You read about my family, in my mind? Have you no honor in the use of your talent?_

Tirsa was stung; Seth felt the backlash of emotion. _I found myself in an alien land with a strange language and odd customs, thrown together with others with whom I was to work closely. I used my ability to separate potential friend from potential foe. What would you have done?_

Vidav considered. _I apologize, woman. I would have done what you did. But I ask you not to snoop further on private matters._

_I can read only those thoughts and feelings which are uppermost, and those I cannot avoid,_ she responded. _Your family has been much on your mind, and your guilt about deserting it. If you do not think so much of it, I will not be able to receive it._

_How can I_ not _think of those closest to me?_ he demanded, and now Seth felt the pain of that separation. But he also picked up that guilt she had mentioned; there was something out of alignment here. Vidav, who had seemed so gruff and strong, was quite another person, mentally. He was tough, but his feeling was great. Seth understood it well enough; he felt love and guilt for his own family and his seeming desertion.

_I can no more not receive than you can not think,_ Tirsa pointed out. _I do not seek your secrets, but when I attune to you, I receive only what is there._

_How is it there was none of this before?_ Vidav asked.

_I can read any mind on which I focus,_ Tirsa explained. _But that is passive.

It is more challenging to send to that mind, especially when that mind has no experience with mind talk. There has to be interaction. Your mind was closed to my approach. Now it is open, and that is much easier for me. We four Chosen must work together, and be able to talk with each other when others do not know. Only in this manner can we avoid the spies, and hope to accomplish our mission._

_You make sense, woman,_ Vidav acknowledged. _It is a distinct tactical advantage to have secret communications._

_Yes. Do not make any indication of this ability by day. Others cannot read us, but it is best if they do not even suspect we are linked._

_Agreed. Now let me sleep._

Seth slept too, at that point, whether from fatigue or her sleep-thought he wasn't sure.

He also still wasn't sure whether this was dream or reality. He would have to try telepathy in the daytime.

* * *

The next day they trained in combat. "Nefarious has minions among both human and nonhuman creatures," Turcot explained. "You must be able to defend yourselves from attacks by types which may be unfamiliar to you."

"Body armor and a good sword can do much," Vidav asserted.

"Not against a cloud of poison mites. For that you need magic, or proficiency with a net."

Vidav nodded, yielding the point. He would train with a suitable net.

Seth, meanwhile, was trying to fathom whether his dreams of the night had any reality by day. _Tirsa!_ he thought. _Do you read me?_

She gave no sign that she did. Either she was playing some kind of game, or there was no telepathy.

They practiced with the nets against neutralized poison mites. They were tiny flies that hovered in a cloud, not flying strongly, but the bite of a potent one would, Turcot assured them, numb the region near the bite, and multiple bites would bring unconsciousness and even death. The nets had very fine mesh, magically enhanced, so that they could trap the mites. It was just a matter of sweeping them through the air. But any mites that were missed could be deadly.

They also drilled against other types of creatures, any one of which could be handled, but only if the proper technique was known. Some were likely to be encountered individually; others always came in packs or swarms. Some had to be fled, while others could generally be bluffed. It was confusing at first, but Seth knew how important it was to get it straight.

"Two mountain trolls, charging from either side," Turcot announced. "What do you do?"

They had learned what to do. Seth leaped to join his closest companion, who happened to be Tirsa. They stood back to back, swords lifted high. That was all that was required; seeing no ready rear approach, the trolls would give it up as a bad job and forage elsewhere. They were fearsome when they thought they had the advantage, but cowardly at other times. Seth remembered the fight he and Rame had had with the smaller valley trolls, who had thought they had the advantage because of their numbers. He didn't want to run afoul of big trolls!

_You are doing well, Seth,_ Tirsa thought.

_You mean it's real?_ he responded. _We really can communicate telepathically?_ He had no concern about giving himself away in his surprise, because he was supposed to be nervously watching for trolls; any expression would be in order at the moment!

_Certainly! Why should you doubt?_

_Because I tried to reach you this morning, and got nowhere._

_That was because I was not attuned to you. I am telepathic; you are not. I must orient on you, and read your thoughts._

_You mean I wasn't really sending?_ he asked, disappointed.

_Not in the way I do. Perhaps in time you could achieve that, but you have not had your full life to develop your power, as I have. It hardly matters; I will link you with the others whenever necessary._

_But I helped push you into contact with Vidav!_

_True. You made an effort, and I drew on it. But the ability to do that was mine, not yours; your effort was undisciplined._

Then they had to move on to the next exercise. They separated, and she tuned out. While what he had learned had not been entirely heartening, still it confirmed that his experiences of the past two nights were real, not dreams.

The exercises were becoming routine, and Seth mastered them readily, because his training in martial arts had disciplined him for such drill. His thoughts drifted back to his home plane. He wondered if Tirsa saw him the way he had seen a girl of his class. She had been plain, and so not in demand for dates.

When a turnabout dance came up, she had asked him. Surprised, he had accepted, though he did not expect to enjoy it the way he might a date with a pretty girl. But he discovered that appearance was deceptive; the girl was lively and an interesting conversationalist, and he had a great time. He had learned something then: not to judge by initial impressions. Sure, beauty was great--but there were other things, and they could be more important. He had accepted the date only as a favor to the girl, but he felt that in the end he had done himself one.

Then he saw Tirsa looking at him. Ouch! Had she read his thoughts? He threw himself more vigorously into the exercise, hoping that his exertion would hide the flush on his face.

* * *

That night they went after Rame, and finally managed to hook him into the network. It wasn't that the faun resisted it, but that he was not fully human, and it was hard for Tirsa to find the key to his mind. Once she did, Rame was happy to participate.

In the following days' training they began linking mentally, and it made them into a remarkably effective team. They worked so well together, in fact, that they had to start making some deliberate mistakes, to avoid arousing suspicion. Even so, Turcot was amazed. "Perhaps we do have a chance," he muttered.

There was one thing that bothered Seth increasingly, however. Their mission was one of murder. They would have to seek out Nefarious, and kill him. Maybe the Sorcerer was an evil man who deserved to die. Maybe he would destroy the planes if he had the chance. Maybe he would gleefully kill the four Chosen.

But those were all maybe's. One thing Seth was sure of was that he was not a coldblooded assassin. But he was the most proficient one of them in combat; their drills had made it clear that his physical coordination and prior experience made him their expert. He was the one most likely to deliver the killing stroke. That made the ultimate decision his.

He brought it up when Tirsa linked them in the evening. _I have trained in martial arts on my own plane, and I am training here,_ he thought to the others. _But I am not a killer. I can't just go out to kill a man I don't know, just because someone else tells me it has to be done._

_I agree!_ Rame's thought came. _I can kill when the need arises, but I must be the judge of the need._

_It is right that you do so,_ Vidav thought. _No man takes delight in killing, or does it carelessly._

Seth was surprised and gratified by this support. He had come to know the other Chosen physically during the past few days, and mentally during the nights, but this subject had never come up. He had thought that Vidav would kill without compunction; now he saw that this judgment had been hasty. He was glad.

_Certainly I do not support casual killing,_ Tirsa thought. _We shall have to make a judgment when the occasion arises, on this as in other aspects of the mission._

_Other aspects?_ Rame asked.

_There is much I do not understand about this situation,_ she explained. _It seems to me that we four came onto the scene quite conveniently. Perhaps it is as the Emperor says_--_but I am not certain that we should take that on faith.

Prophecy is treacherous business_--_and how can we be sure it is a true prophecy? The three of you I have come to know well enough to trust, but I think I trust none other here._

_Agreed!_ Vidav thought, and Rame and Seth echoed the sentiment. They would go on the mission, but they would make sure of the facts before doing anything final.

Six

_Dreams_

It seemed in one sense only a moment before they sat before Emperor Towk again, and in another sense a year. Physically they had hardly changed, but mentally they had shifted from individuals to a tightly knit group. They looked like four quite different people, but Tirsa linked them so that they were constantly sharing thoughts.

"It is time for you to set out on your mission," the Emperor said. "Turcot advises me that you have learned the use of the tools and weapons we gave you very well, and that you are as well prepared as any group can be. We have shown you on the map where Nefarious's castle is, but you must not approach it directly, for he would quickly intercept you. You must choose your own route, known to no others, and come upon him by surprise. I cannot overstress the importance of your mission; you are the Chosen, and if you fail, the four frames are lost."

_Standard peptalk,_ Seth thought, not with disrespect. The others agreed. They kept their faces straight, giving no sign of their private interchange.

There were formalities, but Seth hardly paid attention. He was already pondering their course of action, with input from the others. They intended to drop out of sight, not only from Nefarious, but from the Emperor as well. But how were they to do that, in a countryside where every peasant farmer would recognize them instantly? They had some notions, but had refrained from discussing them; it was enough of a job just to complete training and master the telepathy.

They started off at noon, with a fanfare: the Empire Orchestra was there for the occasion, with its strange and magical instruments. A great crowd of townsmen turned out; they had evidently been granted a holiday. Domela, under the pretext of bringing Vidav an item he had forgotten, managed to sneak in a kiss, to his evident disgust. But Seth picked up enough from his linked mind to know that his disgust was mostly that she was a spy. Otherwise she could have been tempting indeed. However, this was quickly left behind, as they took steps with their traveling shoes; in moments they were out of sight of the castle, far down the main highway.

_First one who sees a green insect, take the lead,_ Tirsa thought. That was their way of making their travel essentially random. Each of them had worked out a possible route to Nefarious's castle; since there was no way to tell who would first see the insect, they could not know whose route would be used. If they themselves did not know, how could anyone else? If Nefarious had analyzed their personalities and abilities--as surely he had!--he would have come to a conclusion about their likely course, and set his trap somewhere along it.

This would nullify that, for they were not taking a sensible, agreed-upon course. They were taking a haphazard one.

_I see one,_ Rame thought. His eye was excellent for natural things. _Lock on me._ This was a technique they had developed by secret experimentation: they tuned in to his awareness, and let his mind guide their actions.

Rame turned north and stepped toward the forest. They matched him in virtual lock-step. Two steps brought them to the trees. Then Rame took baby-steps, that moved him only about ten feet at a time, so as to be able to move between trees without overlapping any. Anyone observing from a distance would have seen them enter the forest, and perhaps would have assumed that they were proceeding in the same direction, at the same speed through it. But Rame turned at right angles, skirted the clearing, came to the edge of a large field, and took a giant step across it. They followed precisely.

In this manner, what Seth thought of as baby/giant stepping, they took such a devious course that no one could have followed them physically. The faun tried to keep to the cover of trees, always moving rapidly across open spaces in one, two or three steps, never pausing. It was a bit wearing, staying with him, but their mental rapport made it possible. They were doing an excellent job of losing any possible pursuit. They were fortunate that Rame was the one in charge, because he was by far the most skilled in this type of thing.

Seth was hardly aware where they were, because he was busy staying with Rame, who was pursuing an incredibly intricate course generally north. Forests, fields, lakes, mountains, miscellaneous ravines and bogs--he hoped the faun knew where they were going, because Seth certainly didn't!

As the day grew late, they came to a small mountain lake. They slowed to baby-step rate and approached a village whose dwellings seemed to be fashioned from woven animal hair. As they came close, Seth saw that the houses were small. What kind of folk lived here?

In a moment he learned the answer. They were gnomes: manlike creatures about half normal human height, and furry all over their bodies. _Let me make contact,_ Rame thought.

The three paused, while the faun went ahead to the edge of the village. The Fur-Gnomes came out to meet him. They talked, then Rame's thought came back: _I talked with Cotan, their chief. They will let us camp here for the night, and will not betray our presence to the enemy, but we must do them a service.

They have had bad fishing; can we catch them a batch?_

Tirsa concentrated. _I pick up many fishly minds, deep in the water where they have gone to feed._

_I know net-fishing,_ Vidav thought.

Soon they were busy fashioning a large net from strands provided by the Fur-Gnomes, following Vidav's instructions. They weighted the corners of the net with stones and tossed it into the section of the lake where Tirsa sensed the fish. When it sank to the right level, Vidav hauled on its lines, closing it around the fish and bringing it toward shore. It was a hard job, but Vidav seemed tireless; he kept hauling it in, hand over hand, until it came to the surface before them.

The net was bulging with trapped fish. The Fur-Gnomes pounced gleefully on them and bore them away. Before long the net was empty--but the village problem of food for the week was solved.

There was a feast of baked fish that evening, which the Chosen shared. The Fur-Gnomes, originally reserved and wary, had become quite friendly when they saw the fish, and a number of them came up to introduce themselves. Their men were stout and strong, their women slender and pretty, and their children were bundles of joy and mischief. The gnomes put on a show for the visitors: a firelight dance whose intricate motions were hypnotic. Seth was reminded of the patterns of the marching bands of his plane. Even the smoke of the fire was beneficial: it kept the thronging nocturnal insects at bay.

The Fur-Gnomes, Chief Cotan explained, were sometime allies of the fauns. That was why Rame had sought them: he understood their ways. They had no use for Nefarious, but also not much use for the Teuton Empire; they preferred to be left alone. "Both of them want to tell us what to do, and take our folk to be their servants," the chief explained. "But we die if we go too far from our native haunts."

_If we eliminate Nefarious, do we make it easy for the Teuton Empire to exploit these folk?_ Seth thought.

_We must take care in what we do,_ Vidav thought in his gruff manner.

_Yes,_ Rame agreed. _There are many free folk who are best off without the meddling of human empires._

When the feast and dance concluded, the Fur-Gnomes retired to their homes.

That was fine with Seth, who was tired. Rame drew the miniature tent out of Vidav's pack, chose a suitable spot beside the lake, and invoked it. The tent expanded until it was full size, complete with sleeping bags and stove-pipe.

At this Seth realized that they would have to share the residence. It had always been a four-person tent, of course, and he had known it, but during their training at the castle this hadn't quite registered. Each of them had had separate rooms for the night. Of course the three males would be all right, but what of Tirsa?

_What of her?_ Tirsa's thought came. _Am I not to share our residence?_

Seth's thoughts went into a jumble of confusion. Of course she was entitled to share--yet if she wanted to change or wash up, what then?

_Enough of this foolishness,_ Vidav thought. _I shall swim before I sleep._

_Good idea,_ Tirsa thought. _I will join you._

_We all will,_ Rame thought.

Vidav began stripping his clothing, tossing it down beside the lake. It was dark, of course, but the telepathic linkage make it clear that he was naked.

Tirsa was doing likewise. Rame did not have to strip, as his fur was his clothing.

Seth held back. To swim naked with a woman--how could he do that?

_The same way you share thoughts with her,_ Tirsa's thought came. _Secrets lie in the mind, not the body._

Suddenly he realized that she was right. All his foolish notions about romance, which she had chopped down so methodically, were a far greater embarrassment than such a swim would be. After the first couple of nights he had found that he no longer embarrassed himself with untoward thoughts, because there was no ambiguity in their relationship. He had heard it was the same at nudist camps: when no one wore clothing, its absence wasn't sexy, it was routine, and there were no titillating mysteries of the body. Minds open to each other brought greater understanding and trust--and a far more accurate appreciation of the acceptable limits of behavior. Just as he wasn't afraid of falling when in an airplane, because he trusted its mechanism, he wasn't afraid of embarrassment in the mind linkage, now that he understood and trusted it. He had passed over the hump days ago; now such things as changing, swimming and sharing a tent hardly mattered.

He scrambled out of his clothes and splashed into the lake to join the others.

It was wonderful in the chill water, after the nervousness and effort of the day's travel. Except for one thing: he remembered the ice. The ice that had almost killed him.

He found himself struggling desperately. _No!_ Tirsa's thought came. _This is not ice! You are not alone! I will kelp you._ Suddenly she was there, putting her arms around him in the water, helping to hold him up. _I am sorry; I did not realize that this was the way you died. I misunderstood your hesitation._

"You didn't misunderstand!" he gasped verbally. "But thank you. I can make it now."

She let go, and he resumed normal swimming. However, he decided he had had enough, and soon returned to shore. What an ugly surprise he had had!

_It is better not to speak in response to a mental communication,_ Vidav thought. _Someone might be listening._

He was right; Seth should have kept his mouth shut _I'm sorry; I panicked. It won't happen again._

_You were thrust into a situation similar to that of your death,_ Tirsa thought. _This can cause a reaction._ She emerged from the water, her body glistening in the moonlight _I will sleep beside you, in case you need comfort._

Seth started to protest that there was no need, but stifled it. He _had_ been severely shaken, and her power of telepathy was strongest when she was closest. Her help would be welcome, if he needed it.

She shook herself dry and went to the tent. The sleeping bags were laid out two by two. They took the two farther from the entrance, so that the others would not have to scramble over them when they came in from swimming.

Only after he was lying down, about to sleep, did he realize that he had never thought of romance or sex after entering the water, despite getting quite close to a beautiful and naked woman. He was making progress; a month ago it would have been a completely different story!

_Yes, you are learning,_ she agreed. _Just as you learned about the plain girl._

He stood near the lake, soaked. Behind him the icy water churned, the broken plates of ice grinding against each other as if the lake were gnashing its teeth in anger at losing its prey. He was shivering, but he was alive!

It was dark; he could hardly see a thing. He staggered away from the lake. His foot turned on a stone, and he lost his balance. His arms windmilled, and his outflung hand touched/

/the dank stone of the tunnel. It was too close; how could she get through?

She wanted to scream, but knew that would be both unladylike and futile. There was no one to help her; she had to make it on her own.

But the rock closed in yet closer. Her hips wedged, scraping skin, but would not pass. Yet there was no salvation in retreat; this was the only way out.

She _had_ to make it through!

She struggled, but knew she was only getting caught worse. The air was running out; she was panting for breath, though it did no good. She was losing control, mental as well as physical. She tried to scream, while condemning herself for this foolishly primitive and pointless exercise.

A hand squeezed hers. _It's only a dream! Snap out of it! It's all right, Tirsa!_

_Who?_ she thought, unable to make sense of this.

_Seth. I am holding your hand. Come_--_I will draw you out of it._

Seth! Then she remembered. She clung to his hand, and he drew her out of that dark tunnel and into the better darkness of the tent _Oh, Seth! I sought to comfort you, but you comforted me instead!_

_You helped me too. When your hand caught mine, it snapped me out of my bad dream and into yours._

_Dreams! This must be a siege!_

_What?_

_We must rescue the others! Quickly_--_you go for Rame and I'll go for Vidav!_

She scrambled out of her bag, toward the other end of the tent.

Seth didn't argue. If the two of them had had bad dreams, the other two might too. He didn't understand why, but evidently she knew something. She had mentioned a "siege." Was that some enemy plot?

He reached Rame. The faun was moaning and clinging to his sleeping bag as if afraid something was hauling him out of it. What was he dreaming?

Seth found Rame's hand and clasped it with his own. "Wake up, Rame!" he said.

"It's not real! It's only/

/The storm caught him like the blast of water from a fire hydrant. It picked him up and whirled him around. It was a tornado!

He saw trees, upside down, and realized that he was being spun in the cone, sucked up into the maw of the terrible storm. He reached out, trying to catch at a branch, anything, though he knew that a tornado could rip whole trees out of the ground and strew their parts across the landscape. It seemed like a futile gesture, yet anything was better than being hauled into the sky!

He missed the branch. The ring of inverted trees seemed to rise--which meant that _he_ was rising, being carried above the level of the forest. He felt the vertigo, and his stomach roiled. He seemed to have no hope of escape.

No! This wasn't his dream, it was Rame's! He had come to help his friend, and instead had allowed himself to be sucked into it. What kind of a rescuer was he? Ashamed and angry, he struck back in more effective fashion. _Link with me, Rame! This is a mental attack! Hold my hand, come out with me! It is a dream, and we can leave it!_

Now he felt Rame's hand. There were two of them whirling upside down in the storm. _A dream!_ Seth repeated emphatically. The storm continued, but with less force. The winds still howled around them, but had less effect. They were becoming transparent, untouched by the storm.

Then the dream faded, and they were in the tent, clasping hands. "Just a dream," Seth repeated. "But you don't have to face it alone, with mind linkage."

"Thank you, friend!" Rame gasped. "But the others--"

"They're here. Tirsa is seeing to Vidav. We all dreamed, I think."

"A sending by Nefarious!" Rame exclaimed. "But are the others safe? You drew me out, but--"

"Well, let's see," Seth said, realizing that there was neither physical nor mental contact with the other two. "All we need to do is take their hands."

They reached across and scrambled for hands. Seth found Vidav's/

/The flames reared up in front, forcing him back. He turned, only to find more flames behind. He was in a burning building, and there seemed to be no way out. His skin was blistering, and he was choking from the smoke.

_It's a dream!_ he thought. _It's not real! I have your hand, follow me out!_

Then, slowly, the flames faded. The four of them were sprawled in the tent, hands linked.

_Thank you, Seth,_ Tirsa thought. _I could not pull him out! The flames were overcoming us both._

_Rame helped,_ he replied. _With two of us helping, it wasn't hard to end the dream. But what did you mean by a siege?_

_We can return to our own bags now,_ she thought. _I shall maintain the linkage, and will explain._

Seth crawled back to his sleeping bag and got in. In a moment Tirsa's thought came again:

_I believe that this is a sending by Nefarious. He is not telepathic, but he can project crude emotion, such as fear. He knows we are coming for him, and when his spies were unable to keep track of us, because of our unpredictability and Rame's clever dodging, he tried to scare us away by broadcasting fear. I have encountered this type of thing on my plane, though never as powerfully. He sent the elements_--_water, earth, air and fire_--_and each of us reacted according to the one we related to. My greatest fear is of being trapped in the deep earth, of being suffocated and crushed, because that is the way I was dying when I was transported here. Seth's is of water_--_dark, icy water, drowning him. Vidav's is of fire; he was on the verge of burning to death when we came here. Rame's_--She paused, reading the faun's thought. _Is of air, a violent storm. He suffered it in life, I think, at the same time as the others of us suffered our traumas. We all verged on dying, and so when the sending came we all relived it._

_That makes sense! Seth_ agreed. _It would be too much of a coincidence that we all had bad dreams simultaneously. You must be right: Nefarious doesn't know where we are, so he sent out a scare-broadcast, a siege as you call it, and we feel it because we are scared of what almost killed us._

_I did not realize that my encounter with the storm was connected,_ Rame thought. _It came up so quickly I was caught before I could flee it, and I thought I was about to die. But then it passed as suddenly as it came, and dropped me unharmed to the forest floor. Malape soothed me and healed me. I put it out of my mind as a fluke_--_but I see now that the fear of it remained._

_It is natural to fear what almost kills one,_ Vidav thought. _Yet this fear must be resisted._

With that they all agreed. _But if Nefarious could do this to us this time, by a blind sending, can't he do it again?_ Seth asked.

_Surely he can,_ Tirsa replied. _But probably with diminishing effect, because we have overcome it this time. If we remained linked, we can withstand it.

Then we will be proof against both his spies and his mental siege._

_Can we remain linked while we sleep?_ Vidav asked.

_Yes, as long as I focus on it. I could not do it continuously, but for a night or two I can._

With that they slept, linked.

* * *

And regretted it. Seth found himself standing where his prior dream had left him, beside the icy lake. This time the ice wasn't threatening him directly, it was threatening the town. He saw a monstrous glacier approaching, grinding toward him at horrendous velocity, for ice. It seemed to tower miles high, and to cast its shadow far ahead.

_I don't like this dream!_ he thought, trying to break out of it. But he could not; he seemed to be trapped. The mental linkage, instead of freeing him, locked him in to the horror.

He ran, not to save himself, but to warn the town, which seemed oblivious to the threat. "Beware the ice! Beware the ice!" he called, but no one woke.

He ran to his own house. "Get out of there," he cried. "The ice is coming!"

But no one emerged, while the glacier ground closer. In minutes it would be too late.

He yanked open the door and rushed in. The house was silent. He took the stairs two at a time and burst into his sister's room. There was Ferne, ten years old, asleep on her bed, her friend and confidante teddy bear beside her.

"Ferne! Wake up! The ice is coming!"

She did not stir. Her pretty face was perfectly composed, framed by her brown hair, with no flicker of animation. She remained so still that it alarmed him.

He touched her shoulder. "Ferne!"

Then he became aware of something. Her shoulder, under the pink frill of her nightie, was rigid. In fact, it was cold--freezing cold.

He touched her hand. It was as stiff as an icicle. He clasped it in both his own, horrified, trying to warm it--and felt cold liquid. Aghast, he stared.

Her hand was melting. It was nothing but ice.

"Ferne!" He reached across to touch her face. It melted in the pattern of his fingers, becoming misshapen.

She had turned to ice!

He lurched up and ran to his mother's room. She lay similarly, and he knew without touching her that she too was frozen. The shadow of the glacier had fallen across her, and enchanted her into ice.

It had turned the whole town to ice.

Then he felt the shudder of the glacier, as it overran the town, crushing the buildings. The town was lost, but maybe he could still warn the world. For somehow he knew that the ice was destined to bury all of it, unless they rallied and stopped it immediately.

There was a short-wave radio transmitter in his room, from his hobbying days.

He rushed to it. If he could call out, alert the hams, so that some sort of resistance could be organized--

The house shuddered. The ice was right up against it, pushing over the building! The power cut off, and the house began tumbling over, slowly.

Seth scrambled out through a shattered window, dropped to the ground, and ran clear just as the house collapsed. But there was nowhere to go! Mountains of ice surrounded the town, and the remaining houses were being crushed. He couldn't get away! He couldn't warn anyone! His world was being destroyed, and he couldn't do anything about it!

But at the same time he knew that this didn't make any sense. This wasn't the Ice Age! A whole world couldn't be destroyed like that! Even if there were enough ice, it would move so slowly that there would be plenty of time for action. This was a dream, and he knew it--but it still terrified him.

He reached out to the others. _Get me out of this! be_ thought.

He felt a hand clasp his, and/

/The sky was turning red, like sunset, but this was no normal closing of day.

Something was coloring it. There was a tremendous amount of dust aloft, as if the worst sandstorm of history was in the making. The red was reflected in the roiling surface of the nearby lake, beyond the vague outlines of houses.

Seth squinted, to keep out the blinding dust. He sighted along his own arm to see what was beyond, because he still held someone's hand.

It was Tirsa. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the dust seeming to muffle his words as they emerged. "I got out of my dream--and into yours!"

She became aware of him. "Oh, Seth, I'm so glad you're here!" she cried. "Pull me free!"

"I can't! My dream is just as bad! Ice is destroying the world!"

"But look at this!" She used her free hand to point.

Seth looked up--and saw what was causing the dust. There was a planet in the sky, a monstrous ball of rock that loomed larger even as they watched. There was going to be a collision!

Her nightmare of being suffocated and crushed, deep in the earth. This was similar, but enlarged to encompass the whole world! Just as his dream of the icy lake had became a dream of a glacier destroying the whole town, and the world. They had not escaped the awful sendings! In fact, their mental linkage only seemed to expand the scale of disaster.

He had drawn her out of it before--but could he do it again? He had to try!

"It's a dream!" he said. "We're in our tent! All we have to do is wake!

Concentrate with me, and step out of it!"

They tried. He felt her effort, as a surge of emotion, and he joined in with his. But nothing happened. They remained standing in the swirling dust, while the sky reddened further, and the oncoming planet swelled larger yet, its craters and cracks manifesting. Now it filled a third of the sky--no, two fifths--and it was growing faster.

"We can't escape it!" Tirsa cried, appalled. "My world is to be destroyed, and I can save neither it nor myself!"

"I couldn't save mine either!" Seth admitted. "Everything was turning to ice!

But I called to you, and caught your hand--"

"And joined my world, no better off!" she finished. "It is to be crushed under rock, a collision!"

Somehow they both knew that when that happened, it would be over for them, in reality as well as in the dream.

"But maybe we can catch another hand!" he said. "There has to be some way to wake up, before--"

"Before we get killed in our dreams!" she finished. "Nefarious is doing this, I'm sure! Trying to kill us in our sleep!"

"We won't let him!" he said, but it was bravado, for they seemed to be powerless against this awful thrust of the distant sorcerer. "Maybe if the four of us can link again, we'll be too strong for him."

"Yes! We must link up!"

* * *

They concentrated. Seth's free hand flailed, but swept through nothing but dust, while the onrushing planet filled half the sky. He felt the awful tug of its gravity, and knew that the end would come much faster than the beginning.

Then Tirsa connected. "I've got a hand!" she exclaimed. "I think it's/

/They were back in flames, but not as close as they had been when they had rescued Vidav from his prior dream. This was Vidav's vision, surely; Tirsa had caught his hand and drawn them into the other dream.

Seth looked. He was holding Tirsa's left hand, and her right was holding Vidav's left. They formed a line of three, standing on the pavement of a city street.

It was the surface of the world, but it was burning. There was a forest fire in the distance, beyond the city. But the houses were burning too. Columns of smoke roiled up, thinning, merging above to become one huge dark haze that smudged out the sky. Seth had seen the fringe of a forest fire once, and it had been something like this: hell on Earth.

"The lake!" Seth cried, somehow knowing that the layout was the same as on his own world. It had been the same in Tirsa's dream, he realized: the town, the lake, the forest. They were all from the same place but different planes. "We can get away from the fire there!"

They ran for the lake, hands linked. They knew they had to stay together, and their physical linking in the dream was the only way they could be certain of their mental linking beyond it.

But already the fire had reached the lake, and was spreading across it. No--it was the water itself that was burning, Seth saw with amazement. And, at the edge, the ground itself! This whole world was burning!

"I know it's a bad dream," Vidav said. "Crafted for me, bringing the fire I fear. Nothing will put it out; it will burn our flesh too, as if it is dry wood. Something else I could fight, but how can I fight when my weapons and flesh burn too?"

"We have to escape the dream," Seth said. "That's the only way we can fight--to unite, and in our strength defeat Nefarious!"

They concentrated again, as the fire closed on them. Seth extended his left hand, seeking Rame, who he knew had to be close. As close as a nearby sleeping bag. Somewhere, not visible here, but in the adjacent plane of the dream--

He brushed something. He moved his hand back, and found it another hand. He clasped it, and/

/The wind smote them with gale force. Rame's dream was of air, a storm, a tornado, sweeping the faun away.

But this was worse. The wind was rising rapidly, sweeping up not only dust but sticks and bricks and water. The lake was being scooped out as if by a giant hand, its water splashing into the sky. The bushes and trees beside it were being ripped out of the soil. Buildings were flying apart. The wind was not circular in the manner of a tornado; it was moving straight across. This was a wind that was passing across the entire world!

Seth did not need to question Rame. He knew that this was the faun's dream of destruction, an extension of his fear of the air, the storm that had nearly killed him. They had thought it enough just to escape their prior dreams, but Nefarious, having zeroed in on them, was now giving it all he had. This wind would rise until it blew away the land itself, and made of the planet nothing but a great cloud of dust, a nebula in space.

"Now we are linked!" Seth cried. "Now we must make our stand--together! We must fend off this sending and wake, and that will save us!"

"But how can we do that, when Nefarious controls our very dreams?" Rame asked, the wind making him almost inaudible.

"Well, united we have four times the strength we have separately. That may be enough to overcome his power."

"Yes," Vidav said. "Unity is strength. We are four, and he is one. We must overcome!"

They curved their line into a circle, Vidav and Rame clasping hands to complete it. The wind battered at them, but they drew together, concentrating.

"Wake, wake!" Seth cried.

"Wake, wake!" the others chanted.

But the wind only tore at them harder, threatening at any moment to sweep them off their feet and throw them into the sky along with the other debris. It wasn't working.

Seth struggled to think of something better. He had honed his martial arts ability to a fine degree, both on his home plane and here in training. What was a person to do when confronted by superior strength?

That gave him the answer. "Yield to it!" he cried. "Make it worse!"

"What?" Rame asked, dismayed.

Seth didn't have time to explain. "All of you--concentrate on intensifying your dreams! Destroy your planes! But keep linked!"

Tirsa started to protest, then read his intent. "Yes! Make it worse! Do your utmost!" she cried.

Vidav and Rame exchanged a glance, then shrugged. "We're doomed anyway," Vidav muttered. "Might as well make it fast."

They concentrated, each on his or her own horror. Seth pictured the glacier not only covering his world, obliterating everything on it, but piling up so high that the very planet was offbalanced and spun out of orbit, wobbling toward the sun. He knew this was impossible, in real life, but this was his dream, and he could dream what he wanted. Maybe the ice would overrun the sun itself! "Flaming iceball!" he cried. "Frozen nova!"

"Burning cosmos!" Vidav agreed.

"The stars blowing away!" Rame cried.

"Crushed universe!" Tirsa exclaimed.

There was a jolt. The dream-framework shuddered, then flew apart. Fragments of ice and rock mixed with windblown fire, swirling erratically.

"It's off balance!" Seth cried. "Now push it back! Back where it came from!"

"Ah!" Vidav cried, comprehending.

They concentrated again, willing the dream, full-strength, back toward its origin. It was as if it were a world-size medicine ball; when they pushed together, it moved, slowly, then faster, until they heaved it away from them.

It would fly back to the one who had sent it, Nefarious, who would then have to deal with the destruction unleashed within it.

They had overcome the dream, not by opposing it directly, which was beyond their ability because it had been formed of their own fears, but by pushing it the other way. Like an aggressive man who, braced for action, suddenly finds no resistance, it had stumbled, losing its bracing. Then they had pushed it back, and it had gone. They had, almost literally, gotten around it.

Seth knew they had won. Their effort might not hurt Nefarious directly, for he surely had ways to deal with his own sendings, but it signaled their effective counter to his attack. If he sent another sending, he would get it back in his face, like a huge stone that bounced back at the thrower. His chief weapon against them had been countered.

_Thanks, Seth._ It was Tirsa's thought, suffused with genuine relief and a certain dawning warmth.

He sank gratefully to sleep, knowing that this time his dreams would not be horrors.

Seven

_Breakdown_

It seemed only minutes from the time of the dream to the time Seth woke, but the sun was beginning to rise. The others were still asleep, and he could understand why; it had been a most adventurous night, even if their bodies had not moved at all after the first siege of dreams.

He climbed quietly out of the sleeping bag, crawled past the others, and walked outside. The day did not seem as nice as the prior ones, but he realized that this might be because he was no longer in the comfort of the castle. There were numerous clouds, and a cold wind was rising. Or was it an echo of the wind of Rame's dreams?

Seth peered at his reflection by the lake's edge. He looked awful! He had hardly looked in a mirror during the last week, and he was now working on a burly beard. It was time to do something about that.

He reached into his pocket for Rame's knife. It was magically sharp, though it never cut the pocket itself, and would probably suffice for shaving. He knelt down at the edge of the lake and dunked his head in the chill morning water.

Hoo! What a sensation! If he hadn't been sure whether he was awake before, there was no doubt now!

He brought the knife up to his cheek and began to shave. The impromptu razor stung, but it felt good to clean off the beard.

"You have a lovely face," a voice said behind him. "I never knew there was one, under that hair."

Seth looked through the ripples in the water at Tirsa's reflection. The alternate bands of her hair were overlapping as the water moved, but then they became clear. What a pretty sight she was, even in morning disarray!

_How many times must I chide you about the obvious?_ But the current of annoyance was muted this time, if not actually playful. Her prior aloofness had eased significantly.

"Good morning," he said, continuing with his uncomfortable task. "Are the others ready to leave?"

"After we eat." _What do you think it meant?_

Seth had to keep straight what was spoken and what was thought. He doubted that there was any spy to listen here, but he appreciated her caution. It was best not to speak aloud of their experiences of the mind.

_I'm not sure, now that I'm truly awake,_ he thought. _We all dreamed of the destructions of our individual worlds. This couldn't really have happened, because something just as bad would have occurred here. Anyway, Rame dreamed too, and this is his world. So I can't take it literally. But I can take it as a warning, or as Nefarious's effort to kill us in our sleep. Something like it well may happen if we don't succeed in our mission._

Mentally she agreed emphatically. But her spoken words were on a different subject. "I have been wondering how we are supposed to defeat a sorcerer that an entire world can't stand against. Maybe we're hidden from him now, but he will certainly know of our approach to his lair, because anyone who sees us there will tell him."

Seth sat silent, uncertain now how they could win. After all, the dreams had almost taken them out. What did Nefarious have waiting for them at his lair?

"We were chosen for a reason," Vidav said as he emerged from the tent. "I couldn't tell you what that reason is. I only hope we come across it before we meet our enemy." _But I think we have already met him_--_and fended him off,_

he added mentally. Tirsa was linking them, but within that framework each had private control.

Seth nodded. They were expressing their doubts openly, for the benefit of any possible spies in the Fur-Gnome camp, but they had private experience that suggested that Nefarious was indeed worried about them.

Rame was last to emerge from the tent. He brought out their weapons and the back pack with the medical supplies. Then he faced the tent. "Invoke," he commanded.

The tent quivered, then folded in on itself, until it was once again small enough to fit in Vidav's pack. The others picked up their weapons while Rame conjured breakfast. After eating, the four Chosen walked to Chief Cotan's hut.

The Fur-Gnome leader was awake and active. He greeted them heartily. "I am glad our village was able to assist you in your journey," he said. "The best wishes of every creature that is good are with you."

Aptly put! Unfortunately, they were headed for the stronghold of bad creatures. "Thank you," Tirsa said, with a smile. She did not smile often, Seth realized, and only when she meant it, but it was worth waiting for.

They bid goodbye to the Fur-Gnomes and continued on their way. They used one of the Fur-Gnomes' magic paths until it veered from the direction Rame had chosen. According to his map, there was an elf village ahead, and the elves were good folk. It would take a day to reach their village, even with the magic boots.

Seth looked at the sky. It was going to be a nasty day! He realized that in the three weeks since their arrival it had never once rained. The rain must be pretty solid when it came, and of course it would come on the least convenient day. "Some things must be the same on every plane," he muttered wryly.

"If you're talking about the weather, you are probably right," Vidav replied, looking into the sky himself. Then, abruptly: "What is that?"

They saw an enormous creature flying low in the sky toward them. "I'd say it was a dragon," Rame said. "A very large one. It may have been sent by Nefarious to locate us. We'd better hide from it."

_Good idea,_ Tirsa thought _But don't talk; I understand dragons have good hearing as well as eyesight._

They ducked quickly into the nearby bushes and watched as the creature flew overhead. Seth was tense; that dragon was huge, and he had little notion how to fight it, despite their training. The best advice of the Empire trainers had been simply to avoid dragons. He relaxed as the monster passed them and started to flap away.

There was a flash from behind him. He looked back. A break in the clouds had let a ray of sunlight shine through and reflect against Vidav's shield. What a bad break!

The dragon caught the flash. It circled back and gazed down, its head cocking to one side and then the other. But they had retreated deeper into the bush and covered up the moment the creature started turning. They were well hidden now, but the dragon had an idea that something was down there. Possibly it smelled them, though their swim in the lake should have reduced their odors somewhat.

The dragon rolled its neck back and then shot it forward, issuing a strange blast of noise. Then it flew off as if looking for another sign of them.

_I think it knows we are here,_ Tirsa thought. _I tried to get into its mind, but it is too alien. I can handle only human minds well. But it's aware of something._

_Then why did it leave?_ Seth asked.

_It may not be able to land in this heavy concentration of trees and bushes.

I'm worried that its shriek was to alert other creatures._

That gave Seth an unpleasant chill. Of course the dragon would signal its allies that it had found something!

_Listen!_ Vidav thought.

Seth heard a distant clicking sound, coming toward them. His chill got worse.

What would make a noise like that?

_I think we should leave,_ Rame thought.

_Yesterday!_ Seth agreed.

The group took off, with Vidav in front, using his great strength to plow a course through the vegetation. They did not dare take giant steps with their magic boots, for fear of careening into trees, so had to run more or less hobbled; Vidav's effort really helped. Even mincing, they were zooming through the forest at eerie velocity, narrowly missing collisions. It was hard to imagine how any creature could keep up with this magic-assisted rush.

Yet the clicking sound grew louder. Whatever that thing was, it was fast!

Unless the terrain changed and allowed them to make full use of their magic boots, they would be overhauled. That would solve the mystery of the pursuit, but Seth dreaded the answer. Running did not seem to be the solution.

"I think we will need to fight!" Rame shouted. "They are coming too fast!"

"My thoughts exactly!" Seth replied. Since the pursuing thing or things obviously knew where they were, speech made sense; it would be suspicious if their little party organized for defense without any dialogue to set it up.

But their real plans would have to be silent. _I'll climb a tree and try to spot whatever it is first,_ Seth volunteered. _The rest of you can set up an ambush, if we have to fight._

The others agreed. While Seth climbed, placing his boots very carefully so that they would not send him sailing up out of the tree, Tirsa, Vidav and Rame nocked their arrows in preparation for battle. They were all good shots, thanks to either their prior skills or their recent training. But would arrows be enough?

Seth strained his eyes. All too soon he glimpsed something. _I see a patrol of about eight creatures,_ he thought. _They appear to be large lizards, but I can't make out what kind._

_Listen to the clicking,_ Rame thought. _Does it follow a pattern of several in a bunch, with brief pauses?_

_Yes, just like that. You recognize it?_

_They sound like Sateons,_ Rame replied. _The clicking comes from their legs, which are armored. They are intelligent creatures who follow Nefarious. They normally foray in packs of eight, and usually attack with poison darts. This won't be an easy fight!_

Ouch! That meant that one puncture or scratch could mean disaster, even if it seemed superficial. The tree would be no protection when they came close. _Why didn't the Emperor drill us on combat with Sateons?_ he asked.

_Because he was sure we would lose,_ Tirsa responded. _I read the concept in his mind, once. He wanted us to flee from any creature too dangerous, such as dragons and Sateons._

And here they were trapped into battle, not properly prepared! Seth knew that a danger could not be thwarted by ignoring it; that was fundamental to his experience. But the Emperor wasn't versed in combat; he was a civilian general.

Seth jumped out of the tree as the first Sateon came into view. The creature paused, lifting its arm. Rame let his arrow fly in that moment, and it scored between the creature's eyes. Seth saw the thing spin about and fall, as he himself did something similar as he hit the ground and scrambled for cover.

Then four more creatures appeared. Immediately they fired their darts: two at Seth, and two in the direction from which Rame's arrow had come. The Sateons were alarmingly quick and apt!

Seth jumped behind a tree. The others were already hidden, not giving away their positions. But the Sateons were advancing, and soon would reach and circle the trees. Their noses twitched; they were sniffing the scent of their prey. There was no way to avoid a fight.

Vidav stepped out and shot an arrow, but the Sateon saw his motion and dodged to the right. Seth stepped out, hoping to catch the creature while it was dodging the first arrow, but another Sateon oriented on him first. Those things might look like reptiles, but there was nothing slow or stupid about the way they reacted!

Seth jerked himself to the side. There was a zap, and a dart hit the tree next to him. That had been a perfect shot; only his desperate effort had saved him.

But he had been trained in similar combat; even as he dodged, he was aiming his bow and loosing his arrow.

The large lizard tried to dodge again, but its inertia from the prior dodge slowed it, and Seth's arrow struck it on the leg. There was a clang as the arrow bounced off the creature's armor. His shot had been wasted after all!

Then he realized that there were only five creatures in front of him, including the one Rame had killed. Rame had indicated that there should be eight. Where were the other three?

Seth spun around. The Sateons had outflanked them, and the other three were somewhere at their backs. Then he saw them, about twenty feet behind his friends, and loading their tubes. _Look out behind!_ Seth thought in warning.

Vidav turned and saw them. His tree was no protection against this! But he didn't flee. Instead he put his bow away and took hold of a small tree, hugging it. What was he doing?

Then the tree was ripped out of the ground. Seth stared; he had known Vidav was strong, but not _that_ strong!

The Sateons also stared, forgetting for the moment to aim their dart tubes.

Vidav hurled the tree, trunk, branches, roots and all, at the three Sateons behind. It crushed two of them immediately. The third managed to step aside.

It put its mouth to the tube, but Seth was quicker, and scored on it with an arrow. This time he aimed for the face instead of the armored legs. The creature let out an ear-piercing scream before it fell dead.

Seth ran to the side of his tree, where he was shielded from the darts. The battle appeared to be a stalemate. The four remaining Sateons had retreated behind rocks and neither the Chosen nor the Sateons could hit each other.

"CHCHCHCHCH!" It was a loud noise coming from the Sateons behind their barriers. It was answered by a repetition of the sound in the distance.

"They are calling for reinforcements!" Tirsa yelled.

They were indeed, Seth realized. There were at least two sets of answering clicks, in different directions, which meant two other parties of eight. There would soon be about twenty Sateons to contend with! They would have to run, or face odds that would surely finish them. But as soon as they ran, they would be shot down.

Could they hold their shields to their backs while they fled? That might work for a while, but if they encountered a creature in front of them, there would be more trouble. Also, they had tried running before, and the lizards had gained on them. How could they get away and stay ahead? The Emperor seemed correct in his judgment: if they encountered Sateons, they were lost anyway, so there was no point in training them for this. But Seth couldn't accept that.

Time was running short. The clicking of the two other contingents was getting louder.

Then Seth had an idea that might save them. Quickly he conveyed it to the others, mentally. They weren't certain, but agreed that it seemed to be about their only choice.

They acted together. Rame threw his shield to Seth, and Tirsa threw hers to Vidav. Holding one shield to cover the back of his upper torso, and the other to cover his lower torso, Seth ran to Rame. The faun continued to fire at any Sateons who showed their heads, preventing them from charging. Tirsa covered Vidav similarly as he ran to her. Then the four of them joined, with Rame in front of Seth and Tirsa in front of Vidav. The two with the shields served as barriers to the enemy darts, while the two with their hands free were able to aim and fire their arrows from that moving cover.

They retreated, keeping their alignment. They had to move in lock-step to stay together, because of the way the boots magnified their forward motion. But when they got beyond arrow range, the Sateons jumped out and gave chase. At this point one of the other Sateon patrols arrived, and a barrage of darts hit the shields. The lizards would soon flank them and start making their darts count from the sides; there were too many to avoid for long.

Rame and Tirsa put their bows over their shoulders and drew their swords. They tried to chop at small trees and vines to clear a path, but this wasn't any better; the Sateons could still outrun them. If only they had been able to make it to a clear region, where their boots could have full effect!

Vidav swung his top shield to the side. The sharp edge of it clipped a small blue tree, felling it. There was an angry hiss behind as the tree crashed down on the pursuers, and the Sateons lost some ground. But in a moment they had scrambled around the tree and were gaming again.

Vidav felled another tree, this one larger, chopping through it with his shield. Seth was amazed again at the man's strength; it was beyond anything that normal flesh or bone should have been able to generate. Maybe it was akin to magic, following its own rules.

The second tree crushed several Sateons, and this slowed the pursuit of the group. Seth glanced at Vidav's back as they ran and realized that what he had presumed to be luck was not; the Sateons' darts had scored on Vidav when he moved the shield. But they had hit his backpack instead of his body.

_Where are we headed?_ Seth thought to Rame, who had sheathed his sword and was now running with the map and compass. _We can't keep clear of them much longer!_

_We should encounter a river soon,_ the faun responded. _We were going to have to cross it anyway, and it may just save us. These creatures will drown in the water because of the armor on their legs. They won't follow us across._

Seth certainly hoped so! The clicking was getting louder. The Sateons had learned, and were now running to the sides instead of directly behind them.

Vidav could no longer fell trees on them, only on the ones close behind, if they didn't dodge. Soon the ones on the sides would be able to start a crossfire of darts.

Then Seth heard another noise. It was a roaring sound: the river! The others heard it too. They increased the pace of their lock-step, encouraged.

The trees cleared and the river came into view. Seth's heart sank. It was a fairly wide stream with raging rapids that looked deep as well as swift. _We can't cross that!_ he thought. _We'll be washed away!_

_Not so!_ Vidav responded.

They came to the water's edge with the Sateons close behind. Seth gave Rame back his shield and Vidav returned Tirsa's.

"Rame!" Vidav shouted over the roar of water. "Give me your spool of rope!"

The faun quickly obliged.

Vidav grabbed the rope and ran toward a large gray tree. "Cover me!"

The other three fired their arrows indiscriminately at the Sateons, sometimes having as many as ten arrows in the air at once in order to keep the lizards from taking aim at Vidav. They were using up their supply at a foolhardy rate.

Under that cover, Vidav ran to the tree and tied the rope around the trunk.

They had each been given fifty of the slender arrows in their quivers, but now they were running low. They could not continue this way; they would soon run out and be overwhelmed.

Vidav had lowered his shield as he worked on the rope. As the covering arrow fire eased, the enemy fire increased; evidently the Sateons had plenty of darts. One of them scored on Vidav's shoulder. Not stopping his work, he ripped the dart out and hurled it back at the Sateons. Then he used the edges of his shield to chop through the larger roots radiating from the tree.

Finally he put his arms around the tree, heaved, and ripped it out of the ground.

The Sateons scrambled back; they knew what a tree that size could do to them!

But Vidav wasn't aiming for them this time. He swung around and heaved the tiling across the river. _Play, Rame!_ he thought.

Rame, catching on, began to play his reed whistle. This caused the rope to expand and lengthen. The tree landed with a loud thud on the far bank of the river. Vidav grabbed the near end of the rope, made a quick lasso, and dropped it over a boulder about ten feet out from the shore. The Sateons would not be able to untie that!

The tree now on the opposite side was heavy, so they would be able to pull themselves across. Seth marveled again at Vidav's feat; it should have been impossible for the man to uproot such a tree simply by standing beside it, even if he had infinite strength: his feet would have sunk deep into the ground, being much smaller than the trunk of the tree. So it had to be akin to magic. Vidav had always said that strength could do a lot, but he hadn't demonstrated the full extent of it until now, and Seth had thought he meant just normal human strength.

They entered the rushing water. Vidav went first, forging through, followed by Tirsa and Rame. Tirsa was almost swept away by the terrible current, but Rame caught her, and Vidav tossed them the leftover end of the line and pulled them in. Seth brought up the rear, holding his shield behind him to prevent anyone from getting hurt. It was nervous business, because of the hail of darts, but the figures were bobbing constantly in the water, only their heads exposed, making difficult targets.

The Sateons ran to the water's edge, and for a moment Seth thought they would jump in, but they stopped at the brink and fired their darts. It was true: the Sateons couldn't handle the water.

"CHDCHDCHDCHDCHD!" the Sateons were screaming again. Surely, Seth thought as he hauled himself along the rope one-handed, if there were Sateons on the other side, they would not hear the call over the rage of the river. So the devastating current posed a barrier not only to the lizards' physical pursuit, but to their signaling system. He was getting to like this angry river!

Then he heard flapping, despite the noise of the water. Flying toward them was the dragon who had been searching for them before. The Sateons had not had to chitter across the river, just back the way they had come, and they had summoned their airborne ally!

Their group was only about a third of the way across. The dragon would reach them soon. _Look out above!_ Seth thought to the others.

They tried to move faster, but the current was simply too strong for speed.

The dragon had no such problem! There was a whining noise like that of a dive bomber as the dragon came down on them.

_Get down!_ Rame thought unnecessarily.

Seth ducked under the water as a jet of flame issued from the dragon's mouth.

When Seth came up again for air, there was steam rising from the top of the water where the fire had struck. The dragon was now beyond them, being unable to turn on a dime in mid-dive. Seth expected it to turn around for another strafing run, but it kept flying. Was one burst of flame all it could muster?

The dragon flew to where the rope was tied to the thrown tree, and shot a jet of flame. The rope caught fire and burned in half. Suddenly the monster's course made sense! They had lost their anchorage, and could not complete their crossing.

The four of them were carried downstream because of the broken rope. One end of it remained tied to the rock, but the rope no longer provided support, and they were dragged under by the raging current.

_Let go of the rope and try to swim!_ someone thought. That made so much sense that Seth wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. He let go, and stroked downstream, and in a moment his head broke the surface.

Already the swift current had carried him a good distance downstream. The Sateons and dragon were out of sight. Maybe they thought he was dead, so were no longer pursuing him.

Him? What of the others? They all knew how to swim; there had been a water session during training.

But not in water like this! They were in no way safe, even if the enemy had forgotten all about them.

Seth looked around, but saw no other heads. The current was too powerful to make it easy to swim to shore. He had to ride it out until the rapids ended, conserving his strength. He had been in rapids before, and knew that he should keep his feet up and float mainly on his back in order to prevent a leg from getting caught on the rocks. He might get his rear bumped, but that was a lesser evil.

He tried to float calmly, but the rapids threw him about, and the water was constantly in his eyes. He tried again to locate any of the others, but still couldn't see them.

_Help!_ Was that Tirsa's thought? Where was she? He would try to swim toward her, but he had no idea of the direction.

_Where are you?_ he thought, but got no answer. That gave him a chill that wasn't of the water.

Then he heard a louder roar above the rapids. Oh, no! He wiped the water from his eyes and peered downstream. He saw the water abruptly end. It was the dropoff of a waterfall!

Now he tried to stroke for the shore, urgently. But it was no use; the current was carrying him swiftly along. In a moment he was at the brink, and then he was over. His stomach seemed to fly into his throat as he fell, arms flailing.

Was this the end?

Then he splashed into deep water about thirty feet down. What a relief! It was shallow, rocky water that was dangerous; deep water was fine.

He was drawn to the bottom by the surge of falling water. He did not try to surface, but simply held his breath and rode the undertow. When it eased, he dragged himself along the river bottom by grabbing onto whatever rocks he could find.

His lungs began to burn. He had to try to surface! His phobia of drowning in icy water was redeveloping. He would panic soon, and he knew that was no good.

Pushing off the bottom, and praying that he had moved far enough away, Seth surfaced.

The waterfall was behind him, and the chaotic water near it did not extend this far down. He could float safely, now. But the current remained swift, and was still dragging him along. It was pointless to fight it.

Seth looked ahead and thought he saw calm water. What a blessing that would be!

But in that moment of his distraction, he let his feet sink. He heard his own cry of anguish before he became aware of the pain in his leg. It was wedged between two rocks! His body was abruptly stopped, and the current at his back forced him under.

He tried to kick free, but his leg was firmly stuck. He could not surface because the water bore him down. He needed leverage, to lift his head to breathe, and to move back upstream just far enough to free his leg. But he had no leverage. He was helpless.

Again his lungs were aching. Was he to drown a second time? No, this time he wasn't trapped under the ice, he reminded himself, and he had his sword. The bow and arrows had been washed away, but the harness for the sheath for the sword was worn around both arms, and the sword itself was strapped in.

Quickly Seth drew the sword and swung it through the water in front of him. He set the point on the riverbed and pushed straight down. But instead of giving him a good push upward, the blade sank into the soft muck of the river bottom.

He fought off his panic. He pulled the sword back, and moved it more carefully. He found a rock, and set the tip against it. Then, fighting hard against the current, Seth pushed himself to the surface. He sputtered for air.

What a relief!

But he still had a problem. His leg remained wedged between the rocks, and he was using both arms to hold himself up. If he tried to change his position, he might be back the way he had been, drowning.

But he had one free foot. He moved that, feeling for the rocks that were holding his other foot. He managed to push himself backwards against the current, until at last his foot came out of the crevice. It was bruised and hurting, but he was free!

He quickly brought his legs up to the proper position, lifted his sword, and floated through the rest of the rapids. He had indeed seen calm waters, and soon he reached them.

Seth dragged himself to shore. Were the others all right? Were they even alive? He wanted to search for them, but as he stood his fatigue manifested overwhelmingly. He reeled, and collapsed on the ground.

* * *

Seth woke as a drop of water landed on his face. He pulled himself up against a tree--and felt a sharp pain in his right ankle.

Carefully he sat down and bent his knee so that he could inspect the ankle. It was swollen, but he could move it; it probably wasn't broken. He hadn't felt the pain as he staggered out of the water, but obviously the rocks and current had done some damage, and now that he wasn't struggling for his life, he really felt it. He didn't have any cloth suitable for tying around his ankle, so he looked for a stick to use as a cane. He had to do it on hands and knees, which wasn't much fun either.

After crawling around for a while, he found a branch with a V at one end to put under his arm. It was slightly long, but he cut off the pointed end a little with his sword. It would do until he found something better.

Using his new crutch, Seth stood up and looked around. If the others were alive they were probably between him and where they all had entered the river.

After all, if they hadn't gotten out sooner, they would have climbed to shore where the rapids came to an end, which was right here. So they should be on the bank, upstream.

Unless they hadn't made it, and their bodies had been carried on downstream....

But he refused to accept that notion. He would search for them and find them; that was all there was to it.

It had been starting to rain. He hadn't noticed before, but of course it had been one of the first drops on his face that had wakened him. Now the wind was picking up, and the drops were fatter and thicker. They rattled against the leaves of the nearest trees. His clothing remained soaking wet from the river, but was still helping to keep him warm; that was its magical effect. But he felt quite uncomfortable in spite of this, perhaps because of his memories of the icy lake in his home plane. He wished he could be back in the warm tent, with Tirsa holding his hand. Against his better judgment, and her discouragement, his feeling for her was growing.

Seth set his jaw and began to walk up the river. _Tirsa!_ he thought as powerfully as he could. _Tirsa!_

There was no answer. He fought off the dread that came. First he had lost his family; he couldn't lose his friends too!

He began to run, clumsily, painfully, slightly panic-stricken at the thought of the others possibly being dead. What if they were? Would he continue the mission, or give up?

The rain was increasing. It was now quite a downpour. That made him think of home again. The Emperor had told them they could never return, but that had not quite penetrated the deeper levels of his belief. There had to be a way to get back!

His crutch slipped on the wet ground. His ankle sent a horrendous jolt of pain as he came down on it too hard, and he fell. How he wished he were home!

_Seth, are you all right?_

Joy suffused him. _Tirsa! Where are you?_

_I'm with Rame. He found me unconscious, caught in a fallen tree that was hanging over the river. I just now got organized enough to re-establish the telepathic connection. Are you well?_

_I'm all right. Possibly a sprained ankle, but I can manage._ His relief at receiving from her was pouring through, he knew, but he tried to keep it businesslike. _How is Rame?_

_Rame is fine. But I'm worried. I can't contact Vidav._

So three of them had made it through--and one was in doubt. _He's so strong, he must have made it! Maybe he's out of range._

_I should be able to receive a faint signal anywhere on the planet,_ she responded. _On my home plane there are so many mental contacts that the signals become hopelessly jumbled with distance; it's a function of the number of communicants per unit of geography. But here there are only the four of us, and I am the only linker; there is almost no interference. There should be something from him!_

Now her alarm was coming through. Seth feared she had cause, but he knew that they had to be steady. He tried to broadcast a reassurance he did not feel.

_We must get together; then we can concentrate on Vidav. He may have been knocked out, and a physical search will find him._ That made so much sense that he was encouraged himself.

_Yes. Where are you?_

_Ask Rame if he saw a waterfall._

_There is one near. We can hear it._

_Then walk in the direction of the waterfall. I'm below it._

_Below it? You went over it?_ Her alarm came through again.

_The water was deep. I wasn't hurt. Then I caught my ankle in a crevice between two rocks, and almost drowned._ He made a mental laugh. It would have been ironic to die in such a minor way, after getting past the main threat unscathed.

_That's not humorous!_ she thought severely, picking up his private thought.

Now there was a concern for him so genuine that he was flattered.

Seth got back to business. Go toward the waterfall, and I will do the same.

_Which side of the river are you on?_

_The side we were trying to reach._

_Good. So am I. Keeping walking. Maybe one of us will find Vidav before we meet._ He hoped!

Seth began to run despite his injury. He looked to right and left, hoping to spy an unconscious but living figure.

Soon he came to a cliff, the one where the water was cascading down. Rame and Tirsa were descending it. "You didn't see Vidav?" he asked verbally, knowing the answer.

"No." There were worry lines between her eyes. "We have to find him before it gets dark. Rame says there are nocturnal predators. That's why he brought us to the Fur-Gnome village last night; it was protected."

Seth trusted Rame's information! If Vidav was unconscious, he would be easy prey for anything that sought blood. But it was already beginning to get dark, and periodic claps of thunder suggested that the lull in the storm was temporary. There would be a torrential downpour!

They walked back the way Seth had come. Tirsa and Rame had checked the region above the falls carefully, and found no indication of Vidav's presence. He must have been carried over the falls, just as Seth had. He could be farther downstream, on either side.

Rame brought out his reed whistle and played it. For a moment Seth was irritated that the faun should be so cheerful in this dreary situation. Then he felt the healing in his ankle. Rame was playing a healing tune! Soon his leg was good enough to enable him to walk without the crutch, which was a wonderful feeling. "Thanks, friend!" he said.

They spread out so that they could cover a wider swath. Vidav might still be in the water, or washed up on the bank, or he might have crawled under a bush farther from the river. Seth was the one closest to the river, and he spied nothing but water.

"There!" Rame exclaimed, pointing.

It was Vidav, sure enough. He was walking slowly along the shore, downstream.

"But there is no mental contact!" Tirsa said, bewildered.

"Vidav!" Seth shouted. But the man did not turn around.

Seth began to run after him. "Seth, wait!" Tirsa shouted. "Something is wrong with him. I'm concentrating on his mind, and there is something there, but I can't read it."

"Maybe I can find out what's the matter," Seth called back, continuing to run.

She had once called him an impetuous youth; he was being true to form!

He caught up to Vidav and grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, friend, remember me?"

Vidav turned, and Seth rocked back in horror. The man's face had a purple hue and his eyes were blank white, with no animation at all. Vidav opened his slack mouth in an effort to speak, but nothing came out other than a bit of drool. Then he collapsed.

"What happened?" Rame asked as he came running up.

"I don't know. Look at him! His heart is still beating but he doesn't seem alive. He's like a zombie!"

"He was hit by a dart, remember," Tirsa said, arriving on the scene. "We were so busy we hardly noticed, but I remember that he pulled it out and continued as if unaffected. Rame, do you know what type of poison the Sateons use?"

"They have more than one kind, depending on their need. For hunting they usually use one that stuns, so they can keep the meat alive for a while and prevent it from spoiling. But in combat they use the kind that kills almost immediately. I can only assume that the strength of his body, and the short time the dart was in, caused a partial effect. That might kill him slowly.

Maybe my pipe can help him." He brought out his whistle again and played it diligently, but Vidav did not stir. It was obvious that it would require something more specific to cure this malady.

"Where is his backpack?" Tirsa asked.

"It's not on him," Seth answered. He started checking around the area. "If he had it when he came from the river, he might have dropped it by the bank, but it doesn't seem to be here. The river might have ripped it off him and carried it away. Our medical supplies were there; how can we help him without them?"

Rame ceased his futile effort with the whistle. "We shall have to get help.

The elves might know what to do."

Seth's compass was still in his pocket, and Rame's map was still readable, so they were not lost. They could find the elf village.

The storm, however, seemed to be getting even worse. The rain had eased at times, but seemed to be only teasing them, for it always came back stronger.

It was almost pitch black now.

"What should we do?" Seth asked. "We could press on, but we could get into even more serious trouble in this blackness."

"I agree," Rame said. "I can find my way by day and often by night, but this is unfamiliar territory and the storm makes it worse. I vote that we stay here, and tomorrow in the daylight we can go for the elf village."

Tirsa considered. "We must make a shelter, and eat, and Rame must resume playing, in case the effect is slow."

"First I will conjure some food," the faun said, and to that they agreed emphatically. Hunger had been forgotten during the crisis, but they did need to eat.

Seth took his sword and cut branches and saplings to fashion a crude shelter.

He found large leaves and overlapped them to make an almost watertight covering. Then Rame conjured a good meal for them all. It was too wet to try building a fire, and in any event the smoke might have attracted the attention of the Sateons or a dragon. Rame was disappointed; he had wanted to try the

"magic" flint in the pocket knife Seth had traded him. So they huddled together under the lean-to and ate, while the rain poured down just beyond.

Vidav lay farther back; they had dragged him into the most protected part.

Between bites of food, Rame played his whistle, sending the healing toward the unconscious man.

"At least he isn't getting any worse," Tirsa said. "Perhaps it is doing him some good, inside, and after a while he will be able to throw off the effect of the poison."

"I wonder whether it could have been the stunning kind," Seth said. "Is it possible that they had orders to capture us instead of kill us?"

"I really don't see why Nefarious would want to capture us," she said. "The moment we are dead, the only threat to his power will be gone."

Seth nodded. There didn't seem to be much point to capture. "I think we should maintain a watch during the night, so that nothing comes on us unawares. I'll take the first shift while the two of you sleep, and one of you can relieve me after a few hours."

"Yes, this is sensible," she said. "I will take the second shift, and then wake Rame for the third."

The other two crawled back and lay on either side of Vidav, their bodies helping to keep the unconscious man warm. Seth sat in front, at the fringe of the pouring water.

He had thought that the storm had reached its ultimate, but it grew yet another notch in intensity. The winds swooped in, catching at things, threatening to ruin their shelter. Jagged spears of lightning struck close by.

Suppose lightning felled a tree and it crashed down on their heads, Seth wondered nervously. Ordinarily he would not have given such a notion a thought, but now it was easy to believe.

There seemed to be one benefit of the storm: no creatures appeared to be out hunting. Evidently they did not like this weather any better than the human party did.

Suddenly there was a crash in the bushes a few yards in front of him. Seth jumped up and drew his sword, moving slowly toward the noise. It was probably just a fallen branch, not worth waking the others, but he was not about to take a chance. One of the frequent flashes of lightning should illuminate it for him.

Now there was a commotion. Something seemed to be tangled in the brush. Seth raised the sword, ready to strike out immediately.

The lightning flashed, and he saw a wing flapping. That was no lizard! It seemed to be a large bird.

"Are you friend or enemy?" he asked, not expecting an answer. If the sound of his voice reassured the creature, he might be able to cut it free and let it fly away. He had always liked birds, and other non-hostile wild creatures.

The commotion stopped. The bird moved its head up to peer at Seth. He could see the faint glistening of its moist eyes. "I am unarmed. Please do not kill me," it said.

Seth almost dropped his sword. Then he remembered the background he had been given: some birds here were intelligent, and did speak the human tongue.

Perhaps it was that the potion they had been given at the castle enabled the Chosen to understand the language of all creatures, not just men. "You're a friend?" he asked hesitantly.

"My kind is neutral to your kind," the bird replied, "but I sought to help you. The storm blew me out of control and into this snag bush. Please help me out of it. I will depart and leave you in peace after I have done what I came to do."

"No need, if you are friendly," Seth said, still marveling at this development. "We have shelter and food which you may share if you care to. We seek only to pass the night safely." He stepped forward and used his sword cautiously to cut the vines entangling the bird. His eyes had adjusted, and he could see just enough.

Now he thought to look at the tassel on his sword. It was white, indicating no physical danger. Why hadn't he thought to check that before?

"I thank you, Man. I am a Fleigh, and I accept your kind offer, as I prefer not to risk myself again in flight through this storm."

A Fleigh. Now Seth's memory focused on what he had learned, and it was as if he were opening a book to the correct page. This was a civilized creature that lived in colonies, loosely allied to humans. It was about as tall as Seth himself, with a wingspan of about ten feet and beak and claws that could do a lot of damage when it chose to. But the word of this bird could be trusted, he remembered.

He unhooked the last of the barbs that were caught in the creature's wings. He had to work carefully, because the feathers were delicate and the barbs were cruelly sharp. The Fleigh stood quite still.

"The storm is pretty bad," Seth remarked. "But I wouldn't think it could blow such capable creatures as your kind is off course. You must have been flying very low."

"I was. I saw you today when you were under fire. I was flying to my home to get armed help, but when I saw a dragon coming I had to hide on the ground for fear of being burned out of the air. The dragon saw me but did not attack; it flew toward you four. I flew up after it passed and saw it flame your rope.

After the Sateons and the dragon left I flew down the river hoping to find you."

"Hold it," Seth interrupted. "Do you mean to say you know who we are?"

"Of course. Your weapons and clothing are those of the Emperor's Royal Guard, and the Fleighs are allied to the Emperor. I did not find you then, but I did find this." The bird indicated something behind it, that had before been hidden in the darkness.

Seth stared in amazement. The Fleigh had brought them their Vidav's pack, with the tent and stove! But there seemed to be little point in trying to set up the tent now; the lean-to was doing the job.

"I continued to search the area in the hope of finding you, but when the storm got this bad I began to fly back. I tried to carry your bundle, but it bore me down. The wind buffeted me, and caught the bundle, and that threw me off. I could have recovered, had I not already been flying so low and had the rain not interfered with my flight. That is why I crashed."

"We aren't the Royal Guard, you know. We're the Chosen."

The bird spread its wings slightly, surprised. "Then it is even better that I found you, even if by accident! Take your bundle."

Seth eagerly took the pack. The top strap had broken and the shelter and stove-pipe had fallen out. Ouch! He felt the bottom, and found one container of medicine. That was what they needed!

_Seth, where are you? What's going on?_ It was Rame's thought.

_Important news!_ Seth returned. _I have found a friend!_

"Come and meet the rest of our party," Seth said to the Fleigh. They walked together back toward the impromptu shelter. The rain was entering another remission, but he didn't trust it.

Tirsa was also getting up. "This is a Fleigh, who brought us Vidav's pack, and there is medicine in it!" Seth said, keeping it verbal so that the bird would not catch on to their secret mode of communication. There was no point in being careless with their secret. "And these are my companions, Rame and Tirsa."

Rame took the pack. "Is this all that was left?" he asked, taking out the medical kit. "It is one of the weaker versions, and may not be enough."

"The rest fell out," Seth said. "But half a loaf is better than none."

"Half a loaf of what?" Tirsa asked, perplexed.

"I mean that little is better than nothing," Seth explained. Something else was bothering him. Something the bird had said. Why would the Emperor have them dress in clothing that would make them easily recognized?

Then he thought of something else. "Rame, play your whistle over the medicine."

"Why? I can't conjure that sort of thing."

"I'm curious. Please humor me."

Rame shrugged and played his reed whistle. A foul note sounded. "That can't be!" he exclaimed. "It's poison!"

Seth nodded as things fell into place. "The Emperor sabotaged our quest. He gave us bad medicine that would kill us instead of curing us when we got in trouble. He also garbed us in clothing and gave us weapons that would immediately let our enemies know who we are. We are marked."

Rame stared, astonished and appalled. "But why?"

"It couldn't be the Emperor," Tirsa said. "When I first arrived I was reasonably suspicious, and I checked the Emperor's thoughts thoroughly. They were complex, and I couldn't read all the levels, but I am sure he wants us to be successful, even if he doubts that we will be."

"Could he have stopped you from finding out the truth?" Seth asked. "You said that on your plane it could be done."

"It is true that mind blocks can be established. But he is not from my plane, and does not know telepathy. He had no mind block, only such a complicated mixture of emotions relating to the Chosen that I could not fathom it all. If there has been sabotage, it must have been someone else."

"One of the spies!" Rame exclaimed.

"No, they did not do anything, they only observed; I read that in them," she said. "Except for that maid, what's her name, Domela, who had a passion for Vidav, because she is impressed by strength. But I suppose that if there is someone high up, who might benefit if the Emperor's plan fails, he might have done it."

"So he could take over!" Seth said. "If the Emperor was discredited!"

"Yet the Emperor saw us in our Empire clothing," Tirsa said. "He felt no alarm over that. Why should he set us up so foolishly?"

"Maybe he had bad advice," Seth said. Yet he wondered. Who could have given that advice, except Turcot--who surely was loyal? Something remained odd, here.

"I do not understand," the bird said. "If you did not wear the Empire clothing, how would we know you?"

"Could it be that simple?" Tirsa asked. "It never occurred to them that what made us identifiable to the friends of the Empire also made us vulnerable to its enemies?"

"That doesn't explain the poison medicine," Rame responded grimly.

"But that could have been done separately, by a spy," she said. "I did not think to check for that, in their minds, and might not have been able to fathom it anyway."

"In the morning we should camouflage our clothing," Seth said. "The two of you should cover any distinguishing marks on your swords." He glanced at Rame.

"Since you gave me this sword, Rame, I won't need to cover it."

"I still don't understand," the bird said. "How does Empire clothing make you vulnerable? It should frighten the enemies of the Empire."

"Excuse me," Seth said. "What is your name?"

"I am Brieght."

"I will answer your question, Brieght. If we wear the Empire clothing and weapons, our friends will know us, true. But we are going into enemy country, and so our enemies will also know us. Our friends won't kill us, but our enemies will. Indeed, they almost did! So we need to be anonymous."

The bird's eyes widened. "Oh, I see! That is true!"

"Do you think you could fly to your village in the morning and bring good medicine for our friend?"

"He was the one shot by the Sateon?"

"Yes. A dart hit him, but he pulled it out."

"Then I am afraid that any medicine we have would have little or no effect.

The Sateons use powerful poison that we cannot combat, as we have learned to our sorrow. He is lucky to be alive. To where are you going tomorrow?"

"The elf village."

"They may be able to help you. They fight the Sateons. One of their number is a wizard and could possibly help your friend. If you like I will fly above you and scout for enemies while you hike."

"That's not necessary," Rame said. "You've helped us enough, and if you are with us Nefarious could spot us easier."

"I won't be with you, I will be flying above you. I insist, it is the least that I could do for the Chosen."

"Then we thank you," Rame said. "Seth, it's about time for me to take over the watch so you can sleep."

That was right! He had forgotten about the watch. "Thanks."

Seth, Tirsa and Brieght went farther into the shelter, settled down around Vidav, and went to sleep.

* * *

He walked up his front steps. His key was out, and he put it to the door. It did not fit. He tried to turn it, but nothing happened. Yet he knew it was the right key, the one he had always used.

He heard a scream from inside. Seth ran over to the window and peered in. His mother was screaming, backed up against the wall. There was a man with a flowing black cape in the house, his back to Seth.

What was going on? Why couldn't he get in to help his family? Who was the man in black?

Seth woke in the lean-to. The storm was still going full thrust. Tirsa had taken over the watch from Rame; the faun was asleep, as was Brieght, his head tucked under a wing. It looked as if it was getting closer to morning, for a reluctant grayness was nudging at the blackness at the front of the lean-to.

He lay back and returned to sleep.

* * *

Seth charged the front door, put his shoulder hard against it, and burst open the lock. He crashed into the house.

His mom was sitting on the kitchen table with her head in her hands, crying.

But before Seth could investigate that, he heard a scream from upstairs. That was his sister!

He turned and charged up the stairs. His sister's room was at the end of the hall. He ran, but the hall was too long; it continued interminably. He kept running. The doors flew past on the sides, but he was no closer to his sister's room than he had been when he reached the top of the stairs.

Then Seth stopped running, but the walls to the side continued to move past faster and faster. He was getting dizzy at the speed of this impossible movement. He seemed to be on a conveyor belt, being carried along at a racing pace no matter what he did. How could any of this be happening?

Suddenly the walls came to a stop. Seth's body was thrown forward. He slammed into the door of his sister's room, knocking it open.

Ferne was sitting at her desk with the desk lamp on, doing her homework. Seth, dizzy, walked slowly over to her. He was half afraid that she would turn out to be made of ice. But this was a different dream, wasn't it? The door slammed shut behind him. Seth spun around, but no one else was in the room. He turned back, and his sister was gone. What had happened to her? She hadn't melted, for there was no puddle of water. Had she been a ghost?

He returned to the door and tried the knob, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn't; it opened readily.

Two scaly clawed hands grabbed Seth's neck. They tightened and lifted him off the ground, gasping. He stared into the twisted face of the man with the black cape. But it was not a man, it was Nefarious!

Seth struggled to free himself from the deadly grip, but was helpless against this powerful creature. His feet dangling in the air, his body limp, he lost consciousness.

Eight

_Trek_

Seth woke and looked out of the shelter. It was still raining, though the storm had died down considerably. Tirsa was on watch, and the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon--or so the foggy patch of light to the east suggested.

Apparently his bad dream had been routine, not a sending, because he had come out of it on his own and the others did not seem to be suffering similarly.

His concern about the possibility of betrayal by the Emperor must have sent him into it. But it did seem more likely that the Emperor was straight, and that a spy had sabotaged the medicine.

Seth climbed over Rame's sleeping figure and crawled over to Vidav. The man's face remained purple, but when Seth pulled up his eyelid he saw that the pupil and iris had returned to normal. That was an improvement!

Rame woke, and also took a look at Vidav. "I'm afraid he's not looking much better, but at least he's no worse. We will need to reach the elf village today, and get help there but how will we move him?"

"I may have an idea," Seth said. "You and Tirsa camouflage yourselves, to prevent easy recognition, and I will work on the problem of moving him." Seth and Rame left the shelter and told Tirsa of Vidav's condition; then the three set about their specific jobs, eating fruit on the run.

After submitting to a call of nature, Seth searched about for an appropriate plant. In a few minutes he found a tree covered with fairly strong orange vines. He took the dagger Rame had given him and cut a vine into fifteen sections, each about three feet long. He tied these branches together with the vines about five inches apart from each other, and then carried it back to the others.

Tirsa and Rame had chopped vines off the snag bush and hooked them into their clothing. They had also taken mud and smeared it over their jackets, pants and faces. Seth did the same, then helped to cover Vidav.

Rame found a use for the poison medicine: they spread it on their clothing, and it repelled the insects that now sought to attack them. "It's an ill wind!" Seth remarked, and then had to explain that for the others: this ill wind of the poison had brought them a bit of good after all.

They ate breakfast with Brieght in a hurry; there could be no time wasted if they were going to keep Vidav alive. Seth showed them how to carry Vidav using the improvised stretcher. They placed him on the stretcher and picked it up.

Seth put a branch on each shoulder, with the stretcher behind him, and Tirsa put a branch on each shoulder with the stretcher in front of her. This made the carrying much easier. Even so, Seth was glad that Tirsa was a pretty strong woman, for Vidav was one solid weight.

Rame walked in front, with the map and compass. There was no need to draw his sword, as Brieght would warn them of any approaching danger. Rame would switch with Tirsa when she became tired, and Tirsa would switch with Seth when he became tired. This rotation, he hoped, would allow them to travel without resting too long. Delay could be fatal, to Vidav and perhaps to them all, if another dragon spied them.

They set out. The river crossing hadn't washed them far off course, and if they kept a good pace and hiked partially into the night they should be able to reach the elf village. Vidav's weight slowed them down, while their magic boots speeded them up, and this resulted in an approximately normal walking pace.

The rain finally stopped, but the clouds hung overhead, threatening more at any time. Could this be the mischief of Nefarious, he wondered, invoking the weather itself to hamper their effort? That seemed fantastic yet in this world of magic, it might indeed be possible.

Relieved of the beat of rain and the restricted vision the fog had caused, Seth noted the splendor of the forest. They were beginning to see more animals, wildlife, and plants not found in civilized regions. A number of them were intriguing, but not because of their alien quality. In fact, some of the smaller animals came incredibly close to looking like some of the smaller Earth animals he knew, such as rabbits and squirrels. Did that suggest that in its natural state, this plane was closer to his own world than it had seemed?

"Is your Earth as lovely as this?" Rame asked.

"Mine is," Tirsa said. "But it is also very different."

"My Earth is also beautiful," Seth said. "But not everywhere. Some of the places that used to look this way have been destroyed for reasons that can't be justified."

"Such as war?" Rame asked.

Seth scowled. "War is one reason. There are others."

"You know," Tirsa said, "even if we destroy Nefarious, his minions will probably still wage war."

_What of the Teuton Empire,_ Seth thought. _Isn't it warlike too?_

"Yes," Rame said, acknowledging both the spoken and mental comments. "Earth Plane 4 has never seen a war with the magnitude that this one promises. There are of course minor skirmishes, such as those between villages, but the outcome of this war could be very damaging, to say the least."

"Is it possible that if we destroy Nefarious a war can be avoided altogether?"

Seth asked.

"It's hard to say. If we destroy Nefarious, then the human species and its allies will have a good chance for victory. But avoiding war? I doubt it. The tension between the good civilizations and the corrupted civilizations has been building for centuries. Both sides have armies primed and ready for battle, but both sides have been waiting and looking for some clear advantage.

Nefarious is now that advantage."

"Nefarious has been alive for quite a while," Tirsa said. "Why is he an advantage to his side only now?"

"Until a year ago the Teuton Empire had a sorcerer of great talent," Rame explained. "He was not as strong as Nefarious, but his help in battle would have been significant, so that there was no clear advantage on either side. He was killed by a spell brought into his house by one of Nefarious's creatures.

At least, that is what we assume."

"You assume?" Tirsa asked. "You mean you aren't sure whether Nefarious sent the creature?"

"We aren't sure that he is dead. His home completely vanished, and he with it.

So the spell either destroyed him, or transported him to some place where he was helpless. Certainly he hasn't been seen since."