SABASTIAN SQUINTED AT THE RAGGED LINE OF

figures that was making its way up the rocky slope. There was little doubt that he and Olaf Blackburn had been spotted where they crouched behind the rock barrier. The boys were coming directly toward the barrier, their heads down as they picked their way through the vegetation and loose stones. They wore the gold-and-scarlet uniforms of the Sons of God, and even at this distance Sabastian could see the dart guns and other weapons that hung from their belts.

There was little Sabastian and Olaf could do but wait. Sabastian with his wooden leg and Olaf with his lung ailment could not possibly hope to escape over the mountain. The boys would run them down before they'd gone a hundred meters. Retreating into the cave would only trap them, and delay the inevitable.

The line of boys disappeared into a ravine that blocked Sabastian's view. He touched the thick strand of braided ropes that lay coiled beside him on the ground. When the boys reached the rocky 144

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ledge twenty meters downslope, he would pull the ropes and release the first row of boulders. Another set of ropes lay on his left side. That would release the second rock barrier.

Sabastian shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. The stump of his leg had begun to throb, and now and then blades of pain stabbed up from the knee, where the peg was attached. He didn't have to look to know that his knee was red and swollen.

Three of the boys appeared suddenly on the ledge below the barrier. One of them raised a slender tube and released a dart that fell short by a halfdozen meters. The boy ducked out of sight, then showed himself again as he moved forward to the cover offered by another large boulder. Sabastian felt for the knotted ropes and waited. More boys appeared briefly at the lip of the ledge and moved forward to take cover. Most of the ledge was hidden from the barrier; it offered a perfect opportunity for the Sons to regroup just before their assault directly up the slope.

But Sabastian and Jacque had been careful in their design of the rock barrier. When the ropes were pulled and the wooden braces collapsed, the formation of the slope above the ledge would funnel the boulders directly down over the boys who were crouched there. In his mind Sabastian could picture the boulders rumbling downhill, crashing together as they tumbled onto the ledge and the boys in their gold-and-scarlet uniforms. Some of the boys would probably survive, and hopefully they would retreat down the mountain. If not, there was the second set of ropes, and the second barrier of boulders . . .

If only we could have had a few more days,

Sabastian thought bitterly. Maybe Borland could have helped us sort this out.

For a moment he felt hatred well up in him so strong that it nearly paralyzed him—hatred for Brill, for Jacowicz, for the Holy Order that had turned this planet into a battleground with young boys as soldiers.

His attention snapped back to the ledge as another slender figure rose up into view with his dart gun. For an instant Sabastian stared directly at the boy's face. A deep scar slanted across it from just below the boy's chin to above his left eyebrow. The boy looked to be about sixteen.

Then he lifted the tube quickly and Sabastian saw a tiny object coming at him. He ducked, and the feathered dart sliced through the air inches above his head to rattle against the rocks behind him.

He was sure that all the boys had taken cover on the ledge by now. They would rush the barrier at any moment. He gripped the ropes and looked over at Olaf. His friend offered a shrug and a bleak smile.

Sabastian shook his head and let the ropes fall to the ground. We've been waiting for years to fight Brill and Jacowicz and the devil god. And when the fighting comes, they send young boys to attack us. We cannot kill young boys.

Sabastian heard a sigh from beside him. He

looked over and saw Olaf pull a feathered dart from his arm. A thin trickle of blood ran from it. Olaf looked up and met Sabastian's eyes and gave a slight, weary smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but his strength left him and he fell heavily.

Sabastian started toward his old friend, then heard a shout and spun back around. Something inside his knee pulled loose, and the pain was a bright hot flare that brought a metallic taste to his mouth. He swam back through a red mist of

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consciousness in time to see a group of boys come around the first barrier of stones and run toward him.