The flame leapt in twisting agony as the twigs Kamin dropped on the scattered embers caught fire. “I'm gone for a few minutes and you damn near let the fire go out,” Kamin muttered just loud enough to make sure she heard him.

“You didn't tell me you were going to make a career out of collecting more firewood,” Rena countered. “Anyway. I had a few things to take care of myself.”

“Yea, like what?” Kamin glared as his voice rose, “It sure as hell didn't include cooking!”

Rena turned her steel-gray eyes from his, and then softly lowered her slender form to reach for the canvas pack resting on the needle-covered ground. “I wasn't thinking about food,” she said as she started to remove a small pot from the pack.

Kamin added a few dry branches to the dancing flames, and then sat fidgeting on a rock trying to convince his tired body that the hard irregular surface was comfortable. His pale green eyes lifted to gaze at Rena's coal black hair. He thought of the warm afternoon breeze that only two weeks ago had stirred that ebony hair and filled his head with the scent of freshly cut flowers. The small white petals she had woven in her hair were so delicate he had asked her their name. “Baby’s Breath,” she had answered, with an implicating lilt.

Kamin sensed Rena's desire growing since her husband had died last winter. Kaman’s thoughts weren't exactly without passion, but he wasn't positive he wanted the responsibility of raising another mans eight year old son. He was even less sure that Troy would be able to accept him in that role.

“Look Rena,” he apologized, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so mouthy. I know you have more on your mind than my stomach.”

Her lips parted and looked as though they were going to say one thing, but then her heart made her ask instead, “Are you sure he's alive?”

“Yes,”" he answered as confidently as he could. It seemed pretty obvious from the signs Kamin could read that the boy hadn't escaped. If he had talked back or refused to do as he was told, he might have been beaten, but he was still with his captors. “If they had wanted to kill him they would have when they looted your house.”

“But why did they have to take him. He's got to be scared to death.”

“I don't know why they took him, but Troy is a damn sight braver and smarter than you usually give him credit. Right now he's bound to be more homesick than anything else. Don't worry, we'll catch up to them.”

“When do you think we'll catch them?” came her tense reply.

“Tomorrow.”

“Really? Oh God, Kamin you sure? If they hurt Troy I'll kill ‘em, I'll slit their throats, I'll tear th...”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Chances are they'll be doing all the cutting if we don't surprise them. The odds aren't exactly in our favor you know,” he asserted.

“Well, then what's the quote ‘Battle Plan’, oh valiant and wise warrior,” she taunted.

“The plan wench is to get something into yon boiling water; cook it; eat it; and then, get some sleep, so we can be off with the first light of dawn.”

“But...”

“Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what we can do yet. We will get Troy back. That's a promise. Okay?”

Her reply was silent.

Kamin had known Rena most of his life, but she had been promised in marriage by her father to Kael, a wealthy merchant who lived just outside the small hamlet of Alkaid. Kael had been nearly twice the age of the innocent seventeen year old bride, but riches have determined the winner in many a contest. Rena’s father loved his daughter. He believed love could grow in his daughters’ heart for this man. He had been a poor farmer and only wanted more for his children than he could offer by his own labor.

The day of the wedding, Kamin had found himself on a dusty road, walking aimlessly away. Away from feelings he couldn't face; away to feelings he couldn't forget. He learned much in his travels. He learned that no matter how near the other side of the mountain seemed, or how fast his pace, the dark cloud pursuing him always won the race. Relentlessly, it swept up behind him and soaked his clothes in freezing rain. Boldly, the thunder shattered his dreams and lightning pierced the sky, matching the jagged wound in his heart.

Seven years of wandering led him home. Somewhere along the road he grew tired of looking over his shoulder. Somewhere he found the courage to stop running. Somewhere he grew up. He returned to Alkaid to be rewarded and yet haunted with the twists fate had brought.

Rena's father had been proven right, whether through wisdom, insight, his daughter’s obedience, or just dumb luck. Rena had come to love Jarnel and had borne him a son. Jarnel’s business had prospered and with it the village had slowly and steadily grown. After a few years Jarnel began taking trips to the distant seaports to bring more exotic and profitable wears back to his expanding store. Jarnel did not return from his last trip.

The news of his fate was as dark as the black night that released the tale. The lifeblood was flowing from the servants’ wounds as he fell against the door of Rena's home. Telus, the servant relayed the events of two days past as he lay on her feather bed dying.

He and Jarnel had been attacked as they journeyed through the winding valley that skirted Mount Antaeus. There were only two robbers, but they were big men and neither Jarnel nor Telus were skilled in weapons. Telus fell from his horse with a swords edge ripping his side. As he lay in the dirt he saw Jarnel's throat slit. Telus closed his eyes with the pain and lay waiting for one of the heathens to release his spirit for it's final journey. Instead, the robbers took the horses and the pack mules and rode off. Telus crawled over to Jarnel, but no breath stirred from his masters lips. He had failed Jarnel. He owed his lord the recounting of his death to his loved ones so that revenge might be taken. He bound his own side as tightly as he could, then took the first step toward fulfilling his duty.

Telus surrendered his soul along with his final accusation, “M’lady you will know the one who killed Lord Jarnel. His eyes held the mark of the demon. One was as cold as coal and the other as sweet as the sky."

Rena organized a party and searched the twisting valleys day after day. The weeks passed and soon the heavy snows of winter worked their way down from the lofty peaks. She never found Jarnel’s remains.

Kamin stared at the fire. It had settled down from a blaze to a bed of elusively shifting coals by now. Rena started to prepare the only warm meal they had allowed themselves today. A few small potatoes and carrots, along with some barley turned into a soup would fill, if not excite his hunger. It would have been too time consuming to stalk one of the forest's fleet-footed whitetail deer. Neither did they waste time setting traps for the small cautious animals. They couldn’t wait long enough for the traps to be sprung. So, they saved the jerky for those few times during the days march when their limbs begged for respite. They would sit for a moment, gnaw on the jerky, and coax their muscles back into action.

With the soup heating over the fire, Kamin reached over to where Rena had laid the water flask.

“I'm going to get some fresh water from a brook I noticed just on the other side of that rise to the north.”

“Alright, but don't be gone so long this time and please don't get lost in the dark.”

“Not a chance. I can see well enough now that the moon is up. I won't be gone more than a heartbeat. Bye.”

"Bye," she muttered, already lost in thought and staring into the fleeting depths hidden in the glowing embers.

Kamin pulled his dark green cloak fully around his broad frame as he stood turning to trudge off into the nightmare shadows of the damp forest undergrowth. The density of the fir and aspen trees blotted out all but a faint glimmer of illumination from the fire before he had gone a hundred paces. Ordinarily Kamin would not have started a fire when he felt his quarry was within reach, but the chance of the bandit-kidnapers having camped in just the right spot to be able to get a line of sight on his fire was remote. Even then, they couldn’t know for sure they were being followed. The fire could just as easily belong to a solitary trapper. Anyway, Kamin knew that tonight he and Rena both needed the warmth and comfort a fire and a hot meal could give.

Kamin was secure in the thought that the bandits saw no need to rush blindly through the dark. They would sleep and dream of how they had bravely stolen a boy from his mother, and how rich and important the gold would make them. Kamin had been having different dreams with very different outcomes.

The one thing Kamin didn't feel secure in was what might wander by during the night. A number of the more carnivorous creatures of the forest were primarily nocturnal and hunted under the stealth of darkness. The fire might draw one out of curiosity. The weaving patterns of light were usually deterrent enough to keep them from attacking. Yet...

Descending the far slope of the rise, Kamin heard the gurgle of the brook. A few steps later he was up to his waist in it when he slipped on the damp grass at its edge and landed hard and sudden. His legs thrashed desperately in the icy water to stop the rest of him from sliding into its liquid depths. He wrenched his body around and grabbed a tall clump of swishy grass. Firmly gripping its tangled mass for support, he managed to pull a leg up and drag his dripping body away from the muddy bank he had created.

“Damn!” he exclaimed as he rose to his feet and felt the saturated cloth stick to his chilled flesh. The mountain air was cool, but the breeze that stirred the lumbering trees made it biting. He shook as the night wind drove its teeth into his thighs. “I’ve got to get back to the fire and dry off before I freeze,” he thought as he took a step. Before his second step landed though he remembered the water flask. He must have dropped it during the fall. He began searching the ground, but soon realized the futility of looking for too long. The moonlight could only throw shafts of wavering light into the dark shadows of the dense growth along the bank of the brook. He couldn't spot the flask. It was either buried in some brush or had fallen into the stream and had been quickly lost in its flowing waters. In any case, the search would be simpler in the morning when he was dry and could see.

As he sloshed up the rise back toward camp, Kamin imagined the conversation he would soon be having with Rena.

Rena: “How come you're all wet?”

Kamin: “Oh, you noticed. I just thought I'd take a little bath, that time of year, you know.”

Rena: “But with your clothes on?”

Kamin: “They were dirty.”

Rena: “What happened? Really, you better get those things off and warm up by the fire before you catch a cold.”

Kamin: “What! The lady is asking me to shed my privacy and publicly display my tender young body?”

The last thought made Kamin smile through chattering teeth. The smile died on his lips as he heard Rena's distant scream cut the silence.

He attacked the slope head on rather than follow the traversing path he had taken on the way down. It was much steeper and the wet clothing bound around him as he charged up the rise. His cloak caught on a branch, but ripped free as he tore through the underbrush. Reaching the summit he was startled by two flashing eyes suddenly leaping out and past him. His ankle twisted as he jumped sideways to avoid collision. His skull smashed into an unforgiving pine tree and the rough bark dug into his cheek as he slid down its side.

Fragile and exposed, weary and worn his mind began to spin, whirling faster, ever faster, gnawing at his consciousness.

Troy glared at the broad-shouldered backs of two of his captors as they stole into the deepening gloom. The threats they had carved into his mind before leaving bled like the icy spring melt of winter’s snow. It fed the river of fear chilling his spine. Still, he was resolved to try his plan if given the opportunity.

Troy had overheard them speaking last night when they thought he was asleep. They had suspicions that they were being followed. Nothing they could be sure of, a wisp of dust on a ridge or an echo faint and muted. They had decided to back-track for an hour or so tonight and make sure before they committed themselves to the exposure above timberline tomorrow. Going over the top of Mount Antaeus would be a taxing day-long ascent. The alternative would be an extra week of winding through narrow canyons and overgrown ravines. Their destination appeared was someplace called Golgatha.

Watching the men vanish, the boy knew they were right in their suspicions. His mother would trail them to the ends of the Rankan Empire. Troy felt hope soar, then quaked as his stomach tightened with the thought of the cruelty those two dealt so casually. Troy wanted desperately to be with his mother, but he would rather never see her again than have her seen tonight by them. Perhaps his mom had talked some of the towns’ people into helping. Indeed, there was probably a whole army following.

"Who am I trying to kid?" he thought. "If there were an army or even a bunch of people very close those goons would know and they don't. She is probably coming alone."

He shifted his posture against the tree trying to get comfortable. The course rope dug into one wrist, skirted the back of the tree and then dug into his other wrist. It wasn't quite long enough to allow him to touch anyplace that happened to itch and because of that everyplace itched. After a while the itch disappeared because didn't hurt as much as the pain in his back. He could relieve some of the pressure on his spine by scooting down a bit and resting his shoulders against the bark, but this drove the pine needles that covered the ground into the seat of his pants. Besides, in that position, it didn't take long to develop a cramp in his shoulder blade.

A dry twig snapped on his left. He twisted to get a view of the haggard thief. Sikes, carrying an arm full of gnarled branches.

Sikes was little more than a servant to the other two. As Troy's eyes followed the restless movements the aging man made, the boy was reminded of an injured hawk he had once caught. Wild-eyed and nervous the gaunt man darted about, constantly turning the hard angles of his leathery face with its sharp nose. Troy imagined him to be searching for a skittering rodent or some fleeting bug to snatch up and eat.

"When are we going to eat?” the boy ventured.

"When they get back. Now, shut up."

"Sikes?"

No answer was forth-coming as the hawk-eyed man went about searching the immediate area for twigs that would be suitable to start a fire.

"Sikes?" Troy's voice increased in volume, though at his age it only made it whiny rather than imperative.

"What?"

"I have to relieve myself."

"So? Go."

"I'm tied up."

Sikes found that extremely funny. He laughed at the child till his eyes filled with tears.

"Please?" Troy stammered.

"So, who’s stoppin' ya boy?" Sikes roared all the louder.

"I don't think your buddies are going to like the smell very much when they come back."

"Shut up ya little snot-faced brat," Sikes yelled. "I'll untie ya, but don't ya go gettin' no ideas. No sir. And it weren't nothin' ya said that made me change my mind neither. No, sir. Ya can't talk me into nothin'. I was just havin' me a good belly laugh and then ya goes and spoils it. I'll untie ya alright I will, but then you're gonna have to shut your mouth up or I'll gag ya until they get back. How would ya like that, huh, ya little fart?"

That speech used up more words than Troy had heard Sikes utter in the previous three days combined. Troy just sat there stunned and silent as the ‘Old Hawk’ untied the rope that bound him to the tree.

"Now, ya step off a ways, but ya better make sure I can see

"Okay."

Troy moved down slope searching for some spot with at least a semblance of privacy. Ten yards, fifteen, twenty yards...

"Hold it. That's far nuff "Sikes shouted. "Now squat!"

Troy did as he was told, but his eyes were racing down the mountainside. "If I could slip Into that ravine, and then ... " and then his heart got caught in his throat. He had to escape. He glanced back toward Sikes. The 'Hawk' was busy starting the fire. His attention was not where it should have been. Troy was another fifteen yards downhill when the sound of a loose stone tipping brought Sikes attention to his mistake.

"You little shit11' thought the stooped man. "Stop!" he screamed as he turned and rose.

The youth was taut as a bow string and the Hawk's voice sent the arrow flying. An eight year old could not take long strides, but his small feet could avoid the undergrowth and rocks that could trap and twist a larger lumbering ankle.

Down he went toward the outcrop. A few more steps and he was skirting its face. Slipping down the side of the ravine he was rapidly out of sight1 but not for long. He had to make a decision. Right now. Sown the ravine and he might be able to outrun Sikes, but Troy knew that the Hawks fear of the other two kidnappers would push his endurance to a limit the boy could not hope to exceed. His mind’s eye saw the Hawk swoop down from behind and snatch him like the small mouse he was. Up the ravine and he would have to rely on finding someplace to hide. At least until the blinding cover of night settled in.

Sikes saw the boy drop out of sight. He pushed himself to run faster, almost uncontrollably toward the deepening grey of the rocks Each step jarred his brittle frame. He stopped at the granite base; then scurried up the boulders to get a better view9 in hopes of seeing which direction the boy had gone.

"Damn," he muttered.

Rena was startled out of the flames hypnotic spell. "Oh no" she thought, "Kamin's back already and I haven't even finished fixing supper."

"Kamin? Did you... Who are you?'

Facing Rena was a burly, coarse, foul smelling, grinning animal.

"Well, what have we here?" he chuckled. "A beautiful lady slaving away over a cooking fire. It sure smells good, but I think you've made too much for just one person. Could it be, you have some strange power? Can you see the future? Were you expecting me?"

Rena just stared. She didn't know what to make of the stranger. Was he a threat? If so, she didn't think she could handle him. He looked as though he had successfully come through any number of brawls with enemies more skilled than she. Was he hungry? He was smiling, but the deep-set eyes seemed to be calculating.

Rena stammered, "I, I have a companion.”

He questioned, "A companion? Did I hear you mention the name 'Kamin'? The animal let a soft growl escape. “Sounds like a lover to me. May I offer my service in his absence? I am a good lover. Ha, ha, ha...” The laughter shook his belly and drool escaped his parted lips.

Rena glared at the beast momentarily, not believing her ears. Then swift as the strike of a snake, her hand touched the hilt of the knife at her side. As the steel slipped free of its sheath, the blade caught the glint of the blood-red coals and begged to taste the animals life. Instead, Rena spoke.

"Perhaps this blade will quiet your laughter. Now answer my question. Who are you?" The grin changed to a menacing scowl.

“You should not threaten a lover. He may not be attentive to your desires, but only his own."

Rena stepped forward, arm outstretched. "Answer."

Moving silently out of the shadow behind her a rugged form took shape. Wielding an old dried branch the shadow charged. "Here's the answer you seek." the grave-deep reply came.

Startled, Rena spun in place to face the voice. Before she was able to completely turn, her eye was drawn to the descending arc of the cruel stave. Her scream pierced the heart of the night as the searing pain engulfed her. Blood began to matte her hair even as she fell.

"What the hell did you have to knock her out for? You probably killed her. You know I like to take my pleasure first before I slit their throats," the first rogue said.

The shadow dropped to one knee to recover Rena's knife, then answered. "You haven't got time for either. Her friend is out there and close I bet. Besides, she’s still feeling perky. "Ain't that so?" He grabbed her jaw and dug his fingers into her flesh as he spat the words out.

Rena's eyes were wild with fear and hate, but head was swimming with the pain. She made a feeble attempt to strike back. The shadow grabbed her reaching hand and twisted. Rena's throat let a moan spill into the night air, as her blood spilled onto the ground.

"Gordell, come here. Give me some rope to tie her and then let’s pull back into the shadows. We'll jump her friend when he returns. Hurry. We have to get back to that moron, Sikes, before he does something ignorant."

The night sky was quiet in its dark solitude, except where stars sang. There its peace was broken. Resenting the music, the sky seemed to swallow sections of its territory, allowing no light to penetrate.

When Kamin woke, the moon was very low in the sky. He looked down at his ankle, halt expecting to see a bone sticking out. Carefully, he moved it. A twinge of pain shot up the tender nerves, but tailed to paralyze him this time. He thought about removing the calf-length leather boots in order to get a look at the wound, but common sense told him the swelling would only make matters worse. "I probably couldn't get it off by myself anyhow," he realized.

Oust the Rena's scream returned to his memory. His immediate reaction was to jump up again. Kamin was not a courageous fool this time. His eyes darted about as he turned and twisted searching for a tree limb he could use as a crutch to support his damaged ankle. The waning light of the moon and the few stars that held onto their patch of the clouded sky made it difficult to focus on the shadows. Twice he crawled to what appeared to be a stout shaft only to find the illusion shattered.

He finally found a sturdy young aspen growing at the edge of a copse of the tall ghostly timber. Down he went on one knee, trying to balance without putting undue pressure on his outstretched leg. It took several blows with his sword to sever the trunk. A few minutes more and his dagger had cleaned off the sprouting branches. Using the staff for support, he rose again and moved diligently, if not smoothly, toward a dying campfire.

He progressed as rapidly as his ankle would allow, not thinking about the undue noise he was making. His only thoughts were his approach might place on himself.

"Where is the campfire?" he thought. "I'm sure I came this way." As he moved into a clearing a dim glow reassured him. The coals were barely alive under the ash. He stopped as his eyes tried to pick out Rena in the shadows.

"Rena," the name caught in his throat.

Not a whisper of sound cried but the breeze. Not a breath of life spoke but his heart. Yet Rena knew his heart and heard it coming for her.

Rena shouted out to Kamin, "Run. Hide." She screamed, "Save yourself. Avenge my son." She begged, "Kill these bastards." Yet not a sound escaped her lips. Her mouth was gagged. Her arms and legs bound.

Gordell, the animal, had fallen asleep. It had been a long wait for Kamin to appear.

"Rena!" Kamin's voice exploded as his heart vented its fury and despair.

Troy threw his hands up to cover his face as he dove head-long into the brush. Even so, the sharp edge from a winter killed branch scraped a scarlet line down his cheek.

The snow melt trickling down the ravine in the spring and the afternoon rains of early summer had encouraged the shallow rooted brush to attempt another season of growth. Each year the deep green leaves tasted the suns warmth and allowed the main trunk to send forth new branches to expand its territory. The old branches blocked from the gift of light and gnarled from the pain of winter conceded their reign to the young and energetic.

Troy let a gasp escape and halted momentarily.

"I better not cry," he thought. "I've got to be hear me."

Pushing branches aside he forced his way deeper into the brush. He could hear Sikes, but knew he wouldn't be able to see where the ragged man was unless he crawled out, or Sikes passed directly in front of him. Troy wasn't about to do the first and was praying the second wouldn't happen.

“If I can just hide here till the sun sets, I can get away," Troy planned. "It should be down pretty soon and it gets dark soon after."

His heart was racing, not from the exertion, but from the fear. His thoughts kept pace. "What will he do if he catches me? Mom, where are you? Are you coming to get me? Will I get lost in the dark? Will I get eaten by a bear? I'm hungry. Will I starve?"

"Force yourself to be calm," he remembered Kamin had told him. "You must be relaxed if you want to be ready to move quickly."

Just then his heart and mind screeched to a halt1 A stone had broke loose above him and crashed through the leaves, not far from him. Troy flinched back and threw his arm to the ground behind him to catch himself.

"What's happeningl" his thought screamed as his voice shrieked in reply. The ground had given way. He was falling backwards. He clutched for a branch with his left hand, but it only broke off and came with him. It lodged in the expanding hole and his grip was stripped clean. Down he went, twisting, rolling and sliding to be swallowed into the bowels of the earth.

Sikes was only twenty strides above Troy when his foot has dislodged the stone. It had bounced off the ledge and crashed into the brush below. Sikes heard the scream and attacked the slope. "Now I've got you, you little bugger." He stood in front of the bush, but the foliage was too dense to see Troy. "Now, where did you go?” the Hawk questioned himself. "I'm sure this is the bush." His eyes quickly scanned the area to reassure his statement. "I know this is it," he swore to himself.

Silence.

Troy lay six feet deep. He couldn't breathe. He landed flat on his back. The crumbling dirt wall was scant inches from his right side. The moist earth he loosened during his fall had half buried his arm. He started to shift his weight to free his arm. His movement swung his left arm out into a void. Nothing. No floor. No ground. Panic. He jerked in toward the wall instinctively. As he did he could sense more earth move. His hold on the world became a fluid perch.

Slowly, with the courage only fear can bear, he willed his neck to let his head turn just enough. Troy’s fear of falling was an instinct, a curse and a gift, thrust on him with his first breathe of life. His few years on this earth had only served to hardened the fear. Just as red hot iron bites steam from cool water, his fear clouded his mind.

How long could he remain on the edge? His mind saw him teetering toward the void. His eyes strained to expand his peripheral vision. First the far wall. Not so far. Barely more than an arms length. Down the wall his sight crept. Perhaps a foot below his clenched perch, a ledge. Wait. More than a ledge, the floor. The empty void he had been so certain he was going to tumble into, was only inches deep. The adrenalin his body had released left him shaking. He rolled over and dropped into a blanket of security. Heaving a whisper of a sigh, he let his eyes close as a single tear gently caressed the great mother earth.

Then, he heard Sikes roar from above. "Boy, you best quit your tricks and come out now," Sikes roared. "If you make me come get you, there'll be hell to pay."

He knew he had to be as quiet as possible, or the Hawk would find him. He heard the branches rustle.

The Hawk spread the branches and swooped in for the kill. His victim was nowhere to be seen, however. What could not be missed was which was just large enough for a small boy to slip through.

Troy's fear of being recaptured heightened his senses. Something was not quite as it should be. There was a faint odor that didn't quite fit. His ears felt rather than heard a steady rhythm that might be his own heartbeat, yet he was sure it was not. His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom inside the cave as they darted from shadow to shadow. What was it? "Something is watching me," he thought. A strange new fear began to well up inside him.

Movement. He was sure something had moved inside that dark shadow to his left. He stared at the black hole and saw two cold blue eyes slowly come into focus. Too afraid to move he just sat there. His eyes fixed on the blue eyes that stared back. As he stared at the demon eyes, time lost all meaning to Troy. His thoughts sunk into the abyss of those eyes and Troy gave up hope.

"You are only a boy." The words whispered in Troy's mind.

Coming soon