From: Clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk (Clive May)
Subject: A story we can all create.
Date: Sun, 17 Feb 02 17:51:26 GMT


Continued from last post.

One more bit to follow.



Parting the concealing fringe of vegetation, Ghorlok studied the lie of the
land beyond the crest.  A gentle incline, carpeted with low growing scrub and
dotted with small black boulders, sloped down into a shallow valley.  The
depression was about half a mile broad.  Beyond a dry river bed, wending
through the bottom, the ground trended upwards.  At first, the slope was
gentle; but it soon began to rise ever more steeply, becoming thickly dotted
with rocks, until it ran against black cliffs.  The escarpment was about
fifty feet high.  Just visible over that height, could be seen the topmost of
the fortifications which made up a section of World's Edge fortress.

It wasn't the perfect place for a cavalry action.  Ghorlok didn't need
Jaskaah's concerned glance to tell him that.  He could judge ground for a
fight as well as the next Servii - better in fact.  Did not his battle record
speak for itself?

"There be but a span of two hundred yards to regroup the charge," Jaskaah
pointed out.  "'Twould be foolhardy indeed to risk the Gurvuks further on.
The ground be too steep and the rocks cluster too thick!  How sayeth thou,
Chief?"

"'Twill be tight indeed, turning the charge," Ghorlok conceded; "yet I say
that all dependeth upon the line the cursed beasts choose.  If they come up
this side of the river, we'll have plenty of room to wheel the formation."

Ghorlok eased up onto his knees.  He put the optic to his eyes.  Focusing
carefully, he peered down the valley towards the south west.  About three
miles distant, the valley turned south and merged into the rocky ridge on
which the massive fortifications of World's Edge stood.  Coming up the middle
of the depression was a column of Southern Apes.  Even at that distance,
Ghorlok could se how undisciplined the formation was.  Their progress seemed
ragged and aimless; and he could see no scouts out in advance of the column.
The beasts were being driven on by a dozen or so riders in scarlet robes.
Wherever the riders went, the formation of apes took on a more military
bearing.  Whenever they rode on, the purposeful march faltered.

Ghorlok frowned in consternation.  The column was on the far side of the Dry
river bed.  If they kept to their present course, they would pass tight under
the far slope - not good at all.  He estimated the file of beasts to number
around two thousand- acceptable odds in the open plain, but here?  There was
little time to consider the matter; if they came on at the same pace, the
column would reach them in about twenty minutes.  There was no time to
consult with his other troop commanders if they were to coerce successfully
their refractory gurvuks into formation.

"If the charge be not turned in time," Jaskaah pointed out unnecessarily,
"there be grave risk of entangling with our rear echelons."

"That be a risk," Ghorlok admitted, easing back into cover.  "But are they
not merely Southern Apes?  How may such as they stand before a charge of the
Servii?  Our brave warriors shalt scatter them like chaff before the Great
Scour."

"Should the vermin have resource to close up on our rear and hamper the
turn," Jaskaah said, "they could harry us to disaster on the heights.  There
be scant room to deploy up there.  I liketh not the prospect of being ground
upon the rocks...not with that hostile force on the heights above." He
indicated the banners of the garrison force streaming in the wind atop the
cliffs.

"Ay, Jaskaah," Ghorlok said; "but the game is worth the risk!  We shalt take
them with lances.  There be time a-plenty to turn out and fall upon them once
more at two points.  And, also, shall we not have the advantage of coming on
them off higher ground once more."

Jaskaah grunted agreement with his Chief's assessment.  "It is as thou
sayest, Chief.  The plan of battle be a fine one, and we dare not let the
vermin go to ground in the Skarn."

Both warriors turned to look into the north east.  Three miles away, the
valley debouched into the flat plains.  A huge, squat thrust of black rock
stood sentinel there.  It was formed from the same glassy black rock as the
cliffs.  The mesa was casting a long finger of black shadow across the mouth
of the valley.  With the sun rising behind it, the formation possessed a
dark, brooding aspect.  Even from that distance, it was plain that the rock
had been worked by engineers into a formidable fortress.

Ghorlok eyed the looming stronghold critically.  He said: "'Twould take five
times the number wee have here to winkle them out of there, hand to hand."

"Do we take them in the vale?" Jaskaah asked.

Ghorlok considered.  He threw his head back and stared into the sky.  With
his third eye, he could see lines of force rippling in rainbow shimmers
against the pale blue.  He grinned, displaying an impressive set of fangs.
The Exalted Mother's acolytes were at their work.  The shield they were
holding over his raiders, hid them from hostile eyes.  He was acutely aware
that they could not hold up that cone of deception for much longer.  The raid
had to come off soon, or they would be forced to withdraw to a more
defensible position.

"Better to take them in the open, and trust to the Gods, and our skill in
arms.  It is the Servii way;" Ghorlok proclaimed at last.  "We shalt take
them with Double Headed Spear formation."

Together they squirmed backwards through the low growing vegetation,
retreating from the sky-line.  Though both were accoutred in full battle
array, they made little sound.  At last, reaching a spot well back from the
crest, the pair stood up, and walked back to their Gurvuks.

The two huge beasts were sparring half-heartedly over a tuber, one had rooted
from the dry soil, with its impressive tusks.  Ghorlok and Jaskaah caught up
the reins and mounted.  They urged the beasts into a reluctant canter towards
where the main body of the raiding party were gathered about the high axled
wagons of the Temple Priestesses' train.

Exalted Mother Kazaan awaited them, leaning on her Gurvuk bone staff.  The
dry breeze was rustling her sewn hide robes.  Amulets of copper, hanging
about her neck, jangled plangently, as she moved to rest a gnarled hand
lightly on Xel's shoulder.  The slave girl had been dressed in a sheer white
robe.  She looked wary, but unafraid.  Several good meals, and the
ministration of a gentler hand than she was accustomed to, had coaxed to the
fore her natural ebullience.  Xel watched curiously as the two Servii
dismounted and looped the reins about a sturdy bush.

"Carry thou my orders for battle to the squadron chiefs," Ghorlok commanded
Jaskaah.  "I shall take the right point and thou shalt have the honour of
taking the left.  Go now, and carry the battle orders to thy men!"

Ghorlok watched as his second hurried over to where the men were preparing
their weapons for the fight.  Then, doffing his helm, he turned to examine
Xel.  A third eye had been tattooed on the girl's forehead, as the focus of
an intricate design, done in primary colours.  The early sunlight was making
the painted eye blaze with a feral fire.  Xel met his gaze, unflinching,
displaying presence Ghorlok found a trifle unsettling in a slave, let alone a
female slave.

The girl was aware that she must face great terror in the next few minutes.
It lifted his heart to see her so unafraid.  She would bear herself bravely,
this he sensed - which boded well for the day's endeavours.  He experienced
an unwonted desire to pat the girl on the head, and reassure her; but her
person was now inviolate.  If a male touched her now, it would require hours
of ritual cleansing, and the performance of the rites of purification.  There
was no time for that, so he contented himself with a smile.  Xel, used to
reading Servii expressions, smiled back, undaunted by the ferocious display
of fangs.

Ghorlok nodded his satisfaction.  The child had the spirit; but did she have
the physical strength?

"The cubling seemeth but a mere scrap of a thing to be blown thither an yon
in sport by the Lesser Scour?" Ghorlok observed.  "Hath she the strength to
contain the heart and hope of the Servii?"

"Thou art a warrior and knowest well thy trade, Ghorlok.  Stick to it!"
Kazaan said, emphasising the reproof by the studied omission of his rank.

To cover his discomfort, Ghorlok drew on his helm, averting his gaze.

A short way off, green robed Temple Acolytes were grooming a white Gurvuk.
It had just been unhitched from the high-axled wagon of the Exalted Mother.
The white mares were specially bred for ceremonial use, and for pulling the
Temple Wagons.  This one was being prepared to carry Xel while she performed
her duty of Mascot.  Ghorlok studied the process for a while, gathering his
composure, before daring to address, once more, the Exalted Mother.  "By your
leave, Exalted Mother, I have matters I must attend to."

"Ay.  Ay, as do I," Kazaan nodded, her gnarled hand clenching on the girl's
shoulder.  "Go thou, War Chief Ghorlok.  Prepare thyself and thy men for
glory."

Kazaan watched him stride away.  She had not been angered in the least by
Ghorlock's temerity in questioning her decision about Xel.  Secretly, she was
pleased at his questioning of the old ways and traditions.  It showed a mind,
that was open to change, and appreciated new perspectives.  There was change
coming to the Sacred Land, however this present matter fell out.  The Servii
would need more of Ghorlok's ilk, and that young rascal Rahaaz, if the race
were to survive and prosper in the world that was coming.

With a little sigh, she released the girl and went to the brazier, set
nearby.  The copper an steel charms jangled as she moved jerkily, leaning
heavily on her staff.  With bare fingers, she plucked from the coals, a bowl
of liquid set there to warm.  Taking up a pot of cold water, she emptied some
into the brew.

"Here child!  Drink this!"

"What is it?" Xel asked, wrinkling her snub nose at the astringent aroma.

"The Sacred Libation, child.  It hath power to imbue thy spirit with strength
to contain the life-force of the Servii, and to ward off the viper strikes of
the enemy's mind."

"I don't need any help from that stinky stuff," Xel said cockily.

Through her third eye, Kazaan studied the girl critically for a moment,
noting with satisfaction the flaming aura streaming from the child.  She
nodded sagely, and grinned.  "May hap not, child," she observed wryly.  "But
ever has overconfidence been the downfall of the Two-Eyes....Yet, there is
much power within thy spare frame, I trow...Ay, and much strength of will
also.  Nonetheless, thou must partake of the Sacred Libation!"

Xel nodded, and took the bowl, instinctively aware that Kazaan would brook no
opposition in this.  Steeling herself, she drained the bowl.  The concoction
tasted as bad as it smelt.  Xel had to clench her teeth to prevent retching.
Kazaan grinned approval.  She took the bowl, and cast it upon a rock,
shattering the clay pot into a dozen shards.

Taking Xel by the hand, the High Priestess of the Servii led the girl to
where some of her Acolytes were saddling the white mare.  They paused at a
discreet distance from the busy women, to observe the final preparations.
When all was completed to Kazaan's satisfaction, she turned to Xel.

Placing a clawed hand on each shoulder, she stared deep into Xel's eyes.
"The Spirit of the Servii will come to thee soon, child - be not afraid!" the
old witch urged.  Her claws clenched painfully into Xel's flesh.

Xel had been on the point of making some cocky remark; but it was all she
could do not to wince.  At the same moment, Xel became conscious of a
disturbing intensification of perception around the periphery of her vision.
The world was growing more real, its colours separating out into many hues
which she had never noticed before.  The plain grey of the dust was becoming
an absolute kaleidoscope of colours, each distinct, yet shading into another.
Also, her mind became bedeviled by a confusing sense of a third eye she did
not have; and the sight of which her brain had no capacity to properly
appreciate.  This third angle of view upon the world, gave her a depth of
perception which made her mind reel at the impossibility of resolving this
new experience with her normal bi-lateral biewpoint.

Xel squeezed her eyes shut; but the sight of her third eye could not be
eschewed.  In the sky she could see lines of force radiating from a group of
green robed Acolytes; and knew it for the shield they held over the party.

Xel grew aware of the soft susurration of dust, whispering in her newly
receptive ears.  She caught her breath - the desert was singing!  The song
had a strange, unearthly beauty, which filled her with a profound wonder.

"The land...The Sacred Land...It speaks to me!" Xel marvelled in a breathy
whisper.  She tilted her head to one side the better to hear the song of the
desert.

"What does it say to you?" Kazaan asked in a low, urgent tone.

Xel shook her head.  "There are no words...No words...But it speaks to me."

Kazaan nodded in satisfaction.  "Good, Xel," she said, using the girl's name
for the first time.  "The Sacred Land accepts you.  The day will be glorious.
Come now!  We must show you to the people!"

Xel was assisted into the high saddle.  Kazaan took the lead rope, and with
charms jangling, led the Gurvuk before the expectant Servii warriors.  In a
stately progress, Xel was paraded up and back before the gathered horde.  All
activity ceased in the ranks of warriors.  Gurvuks stopped their inveterate
squabbling, lifting scaled heads to regard in awed silence, the white robed
figure.

Xel, feeling the pressure of many eyes riveted upon her, revelled in the
attention.  She tossed her head, sending her unbound hair streaming in the
wind blowing off the Sacred Land.  A fierce exaltation took possession of her
as the soul fire of the Servii gathered to her spare frame.  Just at the
moment, when Xel thought she must scream or burst with the force of spirit
infusing her body, Kazaan turned the head of the Gurvuk away.  She led the
Gurvuk up the slope towards the crest, her back straight and her stride firm,
no longer needing the support of her staff.

A long shiver ran through the Servii horde.  They started forward en- masse,
keeping the distance between their front rank and the living receptacle of
their dedicated life force.  It's loss in battle would spell disaster; yet
the living symbol of the Servii soul must be risked thus.  What use a battle
standard in the rear formations?

Just below the crest, Kazaan halted the Gurvuk.  Stillness descended; not
even the breeze dared to ruffle the sparse vegetation.  Long minutes passed.
At last, the wind sprag up once more, sending an agitated rustling through
the low growing scrub.  Electric anticipation thrilled upon the air.  At
Xel's back, the massed ranks of Gurvuks shifted and snorted, sensing the
excitement of their riders.  They stamped and clawed in sudden impatience, as
eager as their riders to be at the business.

The moment had arrived.

Of a sudden, Xel stood in the stirrups and pointed forward with an imperious
finger.  Letting out a gigantic, ululating scream, Xel urged the Gurvuk
forward.  It sprang to a lumbering gallop from a standing start, almost
unseating the insanely screaming girl.  At a dead run, it tore over the crest
and down the slope into the shallow valley.

With a bright ringing of weapons, and an heaven raking battle yell, the
Servii took off after their Mascot.  The ground shook, raising a rolling
thunder.  The Servii came over the crest, haloed by a cloud of dust, shining
golden in the morning sunlight.  There was a wild elation sparkling in their
eyes, and a grim determination pounding in their hearts.  Seconds later, they
overtook, and enveloped, the flying white Gurvuk.  The mare, and its living
battle standard, were swallowed up into the midst of the thundering beasts,
as they came down upon the column of apes.

The beasts faltered to a halt, stunned by the sudden on-set of the enemy.
There was a moment of appalled stillness, before panic flashed through them.
Wailing in terror, the majority began to flee in all directions.  Only where
the red robed riders were to hand, did the apes stand, readying their crude
weapons with grim determination.

Ten seconds later, the Servii hit the disorganised muddle like The Great
Scour that howls out of the north east in High Summer.  Broken bodies were
flung away in all directions, under the crunching impact.  Hundreds more were
brushed aside, speared, ridden down and trampled to bloody ruin under the
great clawed feet.

Now in the rear of the charging horde, Xel, intoxicated by the spirit of the
Servii, stood in the stirrups and pointed at a hapless Golden Ape.  The
creature was scuttling for the hopeless cover of a small rock.  Her mare
veered, and ran the terrified creature down, trampling the golden furred body
into the bloody dust.

Her white robe spattered with blood, her heart bursting with the battle
exaltation, Xel looked around for a new victim.  A few dozen yards distant,
on a slight rise, some two hundred apes were forming a defensive line around
two mounted, red robed figures.  Letting go another piercing scream, Xel
pointed at the group.  Her mount swerved, and charged, bellowing.  A moment
later, one of the mounted priests glanced in her direction.  He raised an
arm, and pointed at her.  On the instant, all the glorious madness of the
Servii left Xel.  An intangible, cold clawed hand, sank fingers of ice into
her brain.  The Gurvuk skidded to a stop, bucking fiercely, and throwing up a
spray of dust and stones.  It stood there quivering, head down, while the
apes surged around it.  With their crude weapons, they beat and slashed the
creature to the earth.  Xel was dragged from its broken back, her white robes
sopping with its blood.  She was born head-high to the waiting riders, and
flung across a saddle.  The rider wheeled his mount, spurring it into a
lumbering gallop.  It tore away down the valley, towards the south west.
Many apes, who could not get out of the way in time, were trampled under its
feet.

Turning out high on the slope, Ghorlok saw the disaster.  Casting aside his
broken lance, he drew his sword.  Yelling a command to his two nearest
fighters, he sent the Gurvuk plunging down towards the apes.  The odds were
hopeless, even for a Servii War Chief with his blood up; but he set to the
business with a will; for there was no worse dishonor than to have the mascot
captured by the enemy.  Even death of the mascot was preferable.  If he could
not save Xel, he could at least make certain that she died.

His way was impeded by the organised mob of apes around the riders.  Under
their direction, they flung themselves at his Gurvuk, with no thought for
personal safety.  They were no real obstacle for a gurvuk, well under way;
but the press of bodies held Ghorlok up for precious seconds, while the rider
bearing the Mascot, made off.

There was a brief and furious engagement, ending only when Ghorlok
decapitated the last rider.  The apes organised assault fell apart, as the
directing will left them.  Ghorlok brushed the last of them aside, and
spurred his mount in pursuit of the fleeing rider.

Should that rider reach the safety afforded by the great iron gates, guarding
the tunnel that led from the end of the valley right under the
fortifications, then Xel would be lost; and lost with her would be the honour
of War Chief Ghorlok.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----

The annoying sound, at the edge of perception, finally resolved itself into a
murmur of voices.  Cain cracked open his one good eye, to see wheeling birds,
complete with Skyborn riders.  The flock was frozen in exquisitely moulded
marble.  The domed ceiling, lit by streaming golden sunlight, was certainly
somebody's masterpiece.  The painter had known the trick of using pastel
shades and primary colours, to make stunning use of the abundant light.  The
artist had imparted a fine sense of motion to his work.  The movement in the
frieze, though, Cain knew, was only a carefully artful mirage.  The whole
artifact was, in reality, as static as the culture that had spawned it...

...Which was all very well...But what he needed to know right now was - where
was he?  The last thing he remembered, was savouring the bitter sweet joy
while he throttled the life out of Shanka's obscenity.  Then there'd been the
characteristic tingling of a neuronic stunner...And he was here.

Cain sat up.  The jingling of the chains focused everyone's attention on him.
All discussion stopped.  Temple Guards, lining the walls, came alert,
levelling their blasters.  Oblivious to the concentrated firepower centred on
him, Cain got to his feet.

"So.  you're back with us at last?" Shanneril observed.

"Yeah," Cain nodded, his eye probing the sea of faces around the table.  "And
whoever slugged me, had better start running...right now!  'Cos when I find
out who it was..." He let the threat hang.

"You are here to be executed for your crimes against my people," Shanneril
broke the sudden silence.  "Not to make idle threats."

"I don't make idle threats," Cain assured.  The load of menace in his tone
raised hackles all around the room.

At that moment, a side door opened.  A Skyborn in the sky blue coverall of a
tech, came in carrying a small black box.  He paused just inside the door,
waiting to be noticed.  Siharal rose, and went to the man, speaking with him
briefly.  Then he led the man around the table to Shanneril.

"My Lady," he said, "the bio-tech is here to imprint the Lady Kali to a
blaster."

Shanneril nodded at the Tech to go ahead.

"Bad move," Cain drawled, completely at his ease.

"You think so?"

Cain nodded.  "Asking for trouble," he assured laconically "Letting a thing
like that run around with a charged weapon...Somebody might get hurt."

"Thing?" Shanneril queried.

Cain nodded at Kali.  "Why not ask IT?"

"Don't listen to him.  He's just trying to save his stinking hide," Kali
countered.

"True," Cain admitted readily.  "But at least my hide's real."

"And mine isn't?"

Cain shrugged.  There aint much about you now, Babe, that's real...Not too
certain there ever was."

"Of course I'm real!" Kali appealed to Shanneril.  "You promised me I could
execute the renegade.  Let's stop this nonsense and get on with it!" She
waved the blaster impatiently at the Tech, who made no move to do as she bid.
Instead, he looked to his queen for permission.

Shanneril studied the relaxed Cain a long moment then, turning to Kali, she
asked: "What does he mean that you're not real?  I would know the truth of
this matter."

"This is nonsense!" Kali said forcefully.  "I have been sent to aid you in
your war against the beast men...Of course I'm real!"

"You sure about that, Babe?" Cain drawled.  He nodded, indicating the useless
blaster clutched in Kali's fist.  "Then why didn't you know about the
blasters being keyed to a bio-pattern?"

A flash of uncertainty flickered through her eyes.  Then she rallied her
composure, and shot back with more relief in her voice than triumph.  "You
explained that yourself?"

"Sure did, didn't I, babe?" Cain admitted in a rueful tone.  "'Cept it was a
lie...and we both know it was a lie...don't we Babe!  You were never the tops
at strategic planning; but I'm willing to lay odds that even the original
couldn't foul up that bad!" Cain paused, eyeing the redhead speculatively.
"So I'm getting' to wondering' what else they neglected to tell you?"

"Like what?" snarled Kali.

"Oh?  Say?  Exactly when this is in your personal time line, for instance?
We're both Regulators, Babe.  Time doesn't lie to us."

"Why that..." Kali broke off, such a terrible look of loss and bewilderment
on her face, that for a fleeting moment, Cain almost felt sorry for her.  He
pointedly turned his attention to Shanneril.

"With your leave, Madam, I'll put this *thing* out of its misery, and we can
talk business."

"Don't listen to him," Kali cried.  "The Regulators can help you..."

"You reckon you can top my offer?" Cain inquired in mock surprise.  "You
don't even know what it is yet!"

"I'm not the one in chains," Kali shot back, her voice dripping malice.  She
appealed to Shanneril.  "You promised me I could have the pleasure of ridding
you of this piece of treacherous filth.  Let's get on with it!"

Shanneril considered a moment.  The exchange between these two Overworlders
had been very illuminating.  She had learnt more in the last few minutes than
all the data that had accumulated in the archives over centuries about this
shadowy group, calling itself The Regulators.  She would have like to learn
more; but judged that her chances of that were negligible.  Cain had been
thoroughly probed while unconscious, with no useful results; and she was
certain he would not provide any useful information under Siharal's preferred
methods of questioning.  The course of action was clear.  Cain was of no
further use, and she did not consider it wise to antagonise the new Overworld
advisor.  Cain must be executed promptly.  She nodded to the tech.

The man set his box on the table.  He slid open a slot, and drew out a cable
with a plug on the end.  "May I have the weapon?" he asked, holding out his
hand.  Kali grinned maliciously at Cain, and with an ostentatious flourish,
handed over the weapon.

The tech plugged the cable into a jack in the but.  He pointed at the box.
"Please place your palm on the plate, Madam."

Kali did so.  The box buzzed.  A green light lit up.  "There!  All done," the
tech announced.  He unplugged the cable, tucked it out of sight in the box,
and picked up his equipment.  He did a bow to the Queen, mumbled "By your
leave, My Lady?" and retreated to the side door.

Kali glanced at the Queen.  Shanneril smiled indulgently and waved a hand at
Cain.  "You may execute the prisoner!"

Kali rose, and crossed the floor with a lithe stride.  The sunlight sent
shifting patterns over the red, body-hugging jump suit, shadowing the smooth
movement of muscle beneath.  She carried the Skyborn blaster with a deadly
casualness.  Cain studied her approach, touched by the first stirrings of
uncertainty.  He knew how Kali would have handled this, which gave him a
definite edge; but, strictly speaking, this was not the Kali he knew - this
could get uncomfortably interesting.

Kali stopped just beyond reach.  Putting her head on one side, she regarded
him, hot murder in her green eyes.  All activity among Shanneril's entourage
had ceased.  They were looking on with avid interest.  Death was in the air.

In a cool, slightly remote voice, underscoring the menace, Kali observed:
"Well, Cain?  So it ends like this?  No glorious death in the heat of battle
- just an ignominious execution for your treachery!"

She hefted the blaster, aiming at his head.  That feral smile, which Cain had
one time found so engaging, was toying with her lips.  As her finger
tightened on the stud, Cain fell to his left, pivoted on an arm, and scythed
his chained legs at Kali.  He caught her just above the ankle, forcing her
off balance.  The blaster flashed.  A hot blast of energy seared his right
ear.  The stench of scorched flesh and singed hair filled his nostrils.

Kali snarled an oath, re-adjusted her aim, and fired again.  Cain was already
rolling aside.  The energy blast ripped into the carpeted floor, sending up a
gout of smoke and flames.  Cain rolled back the other way.  Kali tried to get
in another shot, and simultaneously leap back, each action spoiling the
other's effectiveness.  Cain slammed against her legs, sending her reeling
backwards.  He rolled after her, trying to restrict her freedom of action;
but kali had kept her balance, and managed to get some clearance between
them.

The armed guards looked expectantly to Shanneril, for the order to shoot, now
that they had a clear target.  Shanneril shook her head.  She was curious to
see how long the doomed prisoner would survive.  He was rumored to be very
resourceful.

Kali levelled the blaster again.  "For that," she snarled, "for that, Cain,
you die slowly." She tracked the muzzle across his form, pausing suggestively
at his groin, before moving on to his feet.  The blaster cracked.

Cain was already in motion, kicking his legs aside.  The beam clipped the
chain.  A section of links flashed red.  Cain screamed, as the hot metal
seared into his ankles; even so, he took the chance offered.  Jerking his
legs apart, he snapped the near molten chain.  He lashed out with his legs,
the red hot ends of the chain hissing.

Kali leapt nimbly over his scything legs.  She landed lightly, and backed-off
a step, gaining a second's grace.  For one as deadly as she had been, it
would be enough.

At the same moment he knew he was going to die, Cain became aware of
desperate shouting.  There came the snap of blaster fire, counter- pointed by
the roar of black powder weapons.  The yelling of Servii war cries shook the
walls.  Kali's attention did not flicker.  He was dead meat.  Her finger
tightened on the stud.

A thunderous explosion shook the Council Chamber.  The beautifully carved
double doors erupted inwards.  Smoke billowed in the bright sunlight,
shrouding the room in a grey fog.  Shards of wood and metal sprayed into the
room.

Kali, reacting instinctively to this new distraction, dropped into a crouch.
She swung the blaster to bear on the lithe form of Babydoll, diving left
through the ruin of the doors.  As Kali fired, a splinter lanced into her
shoulder, spoiling her aim.  The bolt seared off one of Babydoll's braids,
and slammed into the armoured chest of Rahaaz's standard bearer.  Dagaara
grunted, staggered, righted himself, and charged straight at Kali.  Gripping
his longsword in both Hans, he swung a mighty blow at her head.  She did not
flinch; instead she took careful aim.

Cain, finally on his feet, came charging in from another angle, with chains
flailing.  He was a moment too late.  Dagaara took the blast full in the
face.  Then all became confusion.

Men and Women were screaming, Servii war cries echoed around the room; and
cutting through it all was the voice of Shanneril, barking out commands,
ordering guards forward, and shepherding her entourage to safety through a
side door.

Cain drove his manacled fists at Kali's face; but she faded back out of
reach.  Desperate to keep it at close quarters, he piled in after her.  If he
could get the blaster away from her, it could at least be used to batter her
brains out.

A small black spheroid bounced onto the carpet between them, exploding with a
soft thud.  A great geyser of yellow smoke killed all visibility.

Cain tensed to spring into the yellow fog at where he hoped the obscenity
would be.  At the same instant, powerful hands lifted him bodily, and bore
him from the fray.  At the doorway, he was tossed over the debris, caught by
another set of hands, and set on his feet.  A mighty shove sent him cannoning
off the bank of lifts in the centre of the hall.  The air of the outer
chamber was cloudy with smoke.  Huge forms of Servii warriors were moving in
the murk.

A musket was pointed.  "Down that way, Overworlder," commanded a Servii.
"Beware the stairwell!"

Cain staggered away down the indicated hallway, radiating outwards from the
central hall.  Down both sides were a number of solid looking desks guarding
grandiose doors.  At the far end, he could see a high window, ablaze with
sunlight.  He made for the light.  Behind him was a crazy cacophony of
shouting and screaming, the crash of muskets, and the crackle of blaster
fire.

Cain came to a stop beside the flight of stairs, going down on the left.
Cautiously, he stuck out a head.  Blaster fire slammed up into the hallway,
scoring the ceiling and opposite wall.  Cain ducked low, and dived across the
open space.  Babydoll, hard on his heels, sent a burst of covering fire down
the stairs, and joined him crouching in the cover of a desk.

"you ok, Cain?" she asked.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?" Cain yelled back over the din.

She flashed him a grin.  "Rescuing you, yer big Galoot!"

"I didn't need rescuing."

Babydoll arched a skeptical eyebrow at him.  "Sure looked like it to me." She
said, taking his manacled wrists.  She touched a small device to the metal.
The cuffs sprang open.  She did the same to his ankles.

"How did you get up here?" Cain demanded, kicking the chains away.

"It's a long story."

"The edited version!"

"Not now.  There's no time.  We gotta be at least three floors down inside
two minutes, or we're in deep do, do."

The fight up near the Council Chamber was dying down.  More of Rahaaz's
raiders came piling down the hall, to squeeze their considerable bulks behind
the meagre cover afforded by the desks.  They let off the occasional shot, to
keep heads down.

Thick smoke was pouring from the Council Chamber.  A shape dived past the
opening near the lifts, and sent a blaster bolt sizzling down the hallway.
It took out the window at the end in an explosion of white hot beads of
glass.  The molten rain spattered on the armour of the Servii with little
sharp spatting sounds.  Fresh air, rushing in the hole, began to shift the
pall of smoke.  Rahaaz's Webley cracked twice; and a scream came from up near
the lifts.

"What's the hurry?" Cain shot back.  "I've got unfinished business back up
there."

"Old Shanneril's Elite Temple Guards live on the next couple of floors down.
They're gonna be up here in a minute asking why they haven't been invited to
the party."

Cain nodded.  "Not much time then...To get the bitch...Someone get me a
weapon?"

A servii tossed him his staser.  Cain caught it and checked the charge.  "One
shot," he growled.  "Better make it count!"

Babydoll fingered her seared hair and scowled.  "That crucking redhead's
gonna pay for that."

"She sure is, Babe!" Cain grinned at her.  He stood up keeping his bulk tight
against the wall.  "Give me some covering fire.  I'm going back in there.
She's gotta be stopped!"

Babydoll grabbed his arm, and held him back.  "You gone crazy Cain?  They'll
fry your arse for sure!  if you go back in there!"

"Gotta stop that bitch, Kali!  Can't leave her in charge of the City...Damn
...I almost had the bitch when you blundered in."

"Who's Kali?" Babydoll wanted to know.

"The next boss of this pile of flyin' scrap...Unless I can get to her first?"

"Old Shanneril's gonna have something to say about that!" Babydoll pointed
out.  " She's boss woman here."

"Not for much longer, she isn't, if I don't get to that bitch Kali- right
now!" The tiger snarl in Cain's voice raised hackles all over Babydoll's
body.

"Cain!  There's no time for personal vendettas!"

As if to underscore Babydoll's warning, a silvery spheroid looped out of the
stairwell.  It bounced off the wall, and came spinning down the hall, to stop
right amongst them.  Everyone dived for the almost non-existent cover.
Rahaaz drew his long sword.  He swept it across the floor, flicking the
grenade back up the hall.  It hit the inner wall of the stairway, and dropped
out of sight.  A second later, the building was rocked by a violent
explosion.  A gout of flame spurted from the stairs, blasting bits of bodies
into the hall.

Cain peered over the desk behind which he had dived.  There was nothing for
it, he was forced to admit.  It was time to go.  He'd have to leave Shanka's
obscenity in control of Avis, and live with the consequences.  He sure as
hell didn't like it; but all his options were going bad.

"It's time we were outta here," Babydoll echoed his thoughts.  "There's a way
out to that TARDIS back there." With a flick of her head, she indicated a
door down the hall.

"No point," said Cain; "it won't fly for me."

Babydoll nodded.  "Yeah.  We sorta figured that." She slapped earphones over
her ears.  "Pigtails to Fangs!  You there Bell?"

Somewhere in the bowels of the artifact, in an ill-lit passage, reeking of
sewage, Cain's trenchcoat shuffled back from an intersection.  The material
convulsed; and Bella's head emerged from the loose folds of cloth.  She
raised a hand-com to her mouth.  "I hear you."

"It's like we figured - no go with the TARDIS.  Plan B is go.  You in
position?"

"Not yet."

"What's up?"

Bella glanced at the decapitated corpse, leaking a last few drops of life
blood onto the filthy floor, at the nearby intersection.  "We're meeting some
resistance."

"You gonna be held up long?"

Bella stuck her head around the corner and peered up the passage through the
haze of smoke.  The noise of fighting had almost died away.  "Not long now.
We're nearly through."

Hundreds of feet overhead, Babydoll sucked on her lower lip.  "Bell!  You
gotta be in position.  With the gear.  Ready to go, when we get down there.
There's gonna be a mess of really pissed off Temple Guards right behind us,
baying for blood.  You gotta be ready!"

"We'll do our best.  How long til you get down here?"

"A few minutes.  Any longer and we'll not be coming."

"Ok.  We'll be ready."

"Good girl!...Fangs?..."

"Yeah?"

"Good luck...Out!"

"Be careful, Pig...Out!"

In the tower Above, Babydoll snapped out an order.  While a Servii jumped to
carry it out, she rose from behind the desk and emptied the pistol up the
hallway, to discourage the troops massing up there.  By the time she had
re-loaded, she was the last one left.  It was time to go!  Once more,
Babydoll emptied the weapon up the hallway.  Bullets ricocheted off walls and
angles whining and spanging.  She followed them up with the potato masher,
filched from Cain's trenchcoat, and dived over the window sill.

She was twenty feet down the rope, when it became clear to her that the
grenade was a dud.  She started going down even faster; the window of
opportunity for her retreat had just closed.  From above, a blaster cracked.
The rope went slack.

"Cruk!" she cursed and began the long plunge down the outside of the tower.

The blaster was answered from below by a fusillade of musket fire.  Bullets
whipped past her, as she plummeted.


------------------------