Out in the sun Leeham could see he now had the undivided attention of the giant. As the coal-skinned colossus continued to laugh, the halfling gently loosened his sling out of his belt and loaded a stone. The giant's laughter stopped immediately. Apparently he had also heard of the great Hin hero Daffyd, Giant-Killer, and his sling of slaying. From his eye-to-tremendous eye position on the slope, Leeham could see the malicious glint on his enemy's face. The halfling imagined he could almost watch the alchemical ingredients working in its brain as it took the sling into consideration. 

A few cheers from the far bank, above the party's hiding place, made Leeham aware that they now had an audience. Standing on top of the wadi was a weird looking group of dark nomads with many tattoos, dressed in shawls and head-wraps. Well apart from them were a large number of tall western goblins, and a pair of dog-headed creatures with lolling tongues and black-furred, toothy snouts. While the nomads were totally silent, the goblins were screaming something which Leeham was glad he couldn't understand. With a sigh the little Hin realized that even if, by some miracle, he could drop the giant, the humanoids would easily have the numbers to swamp him and the party.

"Well," mused Leeham to himself, "I wanted to get the giant's attention away from the party... What was it my Uncle Befruar Treeshadow used to say about 'Wishes turning on the wizard?'" With a small shrug the Hin quickly started spinning his sling above his head. Within a second it was a blinding blur. With a yell at the top of his lungs he launched his stone before the giant could even move.

Despite the huge size difference the giant couldn't help but flinch and look away to protect his eyes. That's why he saw the stone whiz past him, missing by a good five feet. The giant turned back with a smile, to see a very confused Hin starring at his sling. With disgust the Halfling flung the weapon to the ground and drew his short-sword. "For the Shires!" he yelled and started charging down the slope towards the giant. Seemingly too intent on the giant, the little man seemed to totally missed a small dip in front of him. He disappeared into the dusty hole with a yelp, followed by a groan.

The giant roared with laughter! This was the best entertainment he had seen for weeks.

Back in the cave Cronwyn groaned. "What is the Hin doing?!" he muttered. Cronwyn unsheathed his rapier and held it tightly in his hand, watching the unfolding events with fear. Ark put his hand on Cronwyn's arm, "Don't do anything unless we have to," he said.

"I don't understand," whispered Cronwyn. "The Hin was never this clumsy before, what's happening?"

Ark scowled but didn't answer. Kris moved position slightly to get a better shot, but made sure he was still well covered. Turadyl was unable to get a good position from where he was behind Cronwyn and Ark, but made sure he was ready to spring into battle.

Still chuckling, the giant casually strode over to  where Leeham was slowly pulling himself out of the hole. His pickaxe was still resting on his shoulder and he didn't look concerned by Leeham at all. With a laugh he smiled at his audience up on the bank and gestured at the little halfling. The goblins burst out laughing again, and the dog headed creatures joined in, sounding like demented hyenas. He roared out something in Sindhi as he bent over to pick the halfling up.

"What are you doing here 'little-elf'," Cronwyn translated for the rest of the party back in the cave.

With a groan and a sigh Treeshadow crawled out of the small gully, leaving his sword well disguised at the bottom of the hole. No goblin was going to get his magic 'Tooth'! Seeing the giant reach down from him he gave a yelp, he scrambled away from its grasp at the last moment and ran away to the North, directly away from the party's hiding place. With a shout the giant realized that Leeham had escaped. The yells and laughter from the top of the bank intensified and drew the monster's attention. With shock the giant realized that now the laughter was directed at him! With a roar of anger he shrugged the huge pick-axe off his shoulder and started after the halfling, who now had a few seconds valuable lead.

Inside the cave those who could understand goblin realized that the creatures were now betting on how long the halfling would live. Leeham's run had taken him out of the view of the party, so they relied on the goblins above for commentary.

Leeham turned and moved in a scrambling crouch down the slope to the bottom of the dry riverbed.  He heard the thundering footfalls of the giant gaining on him in immense strides, overtaking his armored and sweat-soaked form. As he neared the bottom of the gully he made a rabbit like change of direction and felt a rush of air where he had just been. "So far so good," reflected Leeham as he sprinted across the bottom of the river bed. Expecting to be squished at any second he started praying. Feeling, rather than seeing the giant's movements he ducked and rolled. Again he felt something big cleave through the air. Without stopping he sprung to his feet and started scrambling back up the side of the wadi. Suddenly, something big tagged the brave warrior hard across the shoulder, slamming him face first into the dirt wall. Dots appeared in Leeham's eyes and he spat sand out of his mouth as he was lifted off his feet by his cloak. Trying to cling to consciousness the Halfling jerked backwards and forwards and tried to make his cloak rip while praying to himself.

"High Heroes, I hope I've managed to save the Gentle Ones and my new friends because if not it was a stupid plan and I know that you don't like stupid people but I'd like to think I've been reasonable most of my life except that time at Mount Greenspur with the fifty kobolds or that time when I was a Striker and we infiltrated Black Eagle Keep to the steal the Baron's... Oh alright! I'm not a cautious Hin! Just get me out of this one and I'll be more cautious next time, I promise!

It seemed like there was no chance of ripping his cloak, so from his dangling position the little sergeant finished his prayers and peeked through lidded eyes. He saw the ground passing several feet beneath his swaying feet, with huge footprints in the dirt. The giant was retracing his steps... he passed the cave... it had worked! He was leaving! Praise the High Heroes! Just as Leeham thought that he was getting his bearings, the world swirled around him as with a Giantish shout he was hurled end-over-end into the air.

Hin point of view: blue sky, ground (Giant walking away), sky, ground (brief impression of thousands of moving creatures in a cloud of dust), sky, ground (the approaching cliff-rim, upturned goblin faces watching with curiosity), sky, ground (goblins fleeing in all directions in terror), sky, gro-WHAM!

**blackness**

In the cave the party had heard the voices of the goblin cry out when Leeham had been captured, and saw the giant walk back past the cave with the Hin in hand. However, as the giant had kept walking they had not seen what had happened to the halfling in the end. Keeping quiet, they were told by voices above.

**In Goblin - understood by Turadyl, Ark and a little bit by Cronwyn**

"Ha! That was great! I didn't think Gholkhus was going to get him for a second! Now pay up Gnasher!"

"What!" screamed a second voice, presumably that of Gnasher. "I said he would last ten minutes and you only a few seconds! He isn't dead yet, hand over the silver you elf-spawn!"

"I said the giant would get him, and he did. It doesn't matter that if he isn't dead yet, because he soon will be! Or at least he will hope to be, you know that the White Lady has said she wants all prisoners delivered to her. There is no way he will survive a meeting with that witch! He is as good as dead, and anyway maybe that fall killed him - lets see your money!"

"No way you son-of-a-dwarf." (Sounds of weapons being drawn.)

"Have you way then!" (Sounds of a scuffle and a yelp of alarm.)  Several small rocks tumbled down in front of the cave, one almost hitting Ark, moments before the body of a stringy Western  goblin crashed to the bottom and lay there with his arm pinned beneath him at an awkward angle. He didn't feel it though, Ark could see that his throat had been slashed open. An empty leather belt pouch fluttered down in the dry wind and came to rest some distance from the body.

 As the next few minutes passed several more bodies were furled into the crevasse. Most of these had obviously been dead for sometime. Although a few were goblinoid, most were humans. By their sunburn skin, blackened and bloodied feet and the lash-marks on their backs, it could be seen that they weren't desert raiders. These unfortunate souls were the prisoners of this army, pushed past their limit by abuse, hard labor and exposure to the harsh environment. They were soon followed by broken wheels, ripped craps of skins and other waste.  Eventually the sounds above drifted away as those above moved off to rejoin the rest of the camp. The rising smell of death was close at hand as the shadows slowly crawled across the wadi floor.

They waited several minutes until all traces of noise had died down before talking. Shayam and Malthus came forwards from the back of the cave so they could learn what had happened, Ghitu stayed with the camels. Ark explained what they had seen and heard and finished with an anxious, "That Hin has all the sense of a 'round-ear'." muttered in Elvish. Turadyl was surprised to hear concern in the feral elf's voice. Turadyl wondered if it was because Ark was worried that he might not be able to get another camp follower if Leeham was lost.

"You know what those goblins will do to him, don't you?" queried Kris. "Never mind the giant, what's his name? Gholkhus? And then there is this 'White Lady' to worry about as well. He gave himself up to stop the giant finding us. I think we owe to him to go after him, and soon before it is too late"

"I agree," answered Cronwyn. "But there is no point crashing into the camp until we know exactly where he is. Turadyl, can you do anything?" The merchant was aware that the elf had already cast fly during the encounter with the hydra.

"I can't cast fly again without rest," replied Turadyl. "And I learnt 'detect weather' instead of invisibly today. We will have to wait until tomorrow. It would be better if I could go with somebody who speaks their language though. Otherwise it may take a long time to fly through their camp and find him. Can you cast invisibility as well Ark?"

The dark Alfheimer shook his head. "Nor fly. I have no use for such cantrips."

"Then we should wait till dark, its only two hours away," said Shayam. "Then a few of use could try to sneak in, with Cronwyn as well to translate."

"Assuming that I can understand them," said the merchant.

"He will be dead before we get there!" said Malthus, raising his voice a little. "We have to do something before that." 

Ark glanced up a Malthus' comment. A scowl quickly darkened his face. "I'll not be leaving the Hin in their clutches till tomorrow," he said in heavily accented Thyatian. "You humans may do what you will, but I am going to retrieve the foolhardy boy before nightfall." The elf silently cast a challenging glare over the rest of the party.

Kris answered him. "There are many, too many of them. We should take every possible advantage we can. We'll wait till tomorrow when Ark and Turadyl have all of their spells again, then go in."

"No," interrupted Cronwyn. "The elf is right. We should go now because there will be no point going later when he is dead."

At this point Ghitu moved out of the back of the cave, a water skin in hand. He passed it to Shayam, who had been holding his tongue during most of the conversation and sitting at the back of the group. There was a different look in the boy's eyes, almost of understanding thought Shayam. The thief put his hands out to accept the offered water skin. "Thanks," the dark skinned man muttered out of habit, even though he knew the youth couldn't understand him. "You're welcome," answered Ghitu in perfect Thyatian. Shayam choked and spat precious water out all over himself. The rest of the party looked back to see what was going on.

As the thief's jaw dropped, the Sindian 'idiot' continued. "I will try and find Leeham while my spell can still sense the giant's thoughts." Smiling reassuringly to the rest of the wide-eyed party he added, "I will be back before nightfall, please don't do anything rash."

Then the boy uttered a few arcane words and gestured, within an instant he had faded from sight. Kris and Ark felt him brush past them on his way out of the cave.

It took a while for Kris to recover from his surprise. Almost stammering he whispered, "Eh! The boy... I mean what's his name??... Ghitu... He's a mage, what going on?"

It took Malthus several seconds to answer. "By Stephen's Ghost you are right Kris! I had written the strange boy off as something else. Perhaps there are more thing in store for us. I think this is a good omen!"

"I don't know," said Shayam while shaking his head. "We don't really know anything about him, and now he disappears in the direction of the enemy. Maybe things have just got much worse..."

Cronwyn was flabbergasted, but found the breath to answer. "I know how you feel Shayam, and believe me I also feel shocked - I think that I was fooled the most out of any of you. But I don't feel like we are in danger from him. After all, he had many other opportunities to betray us before this." Ark sniffed and turned away, obviously not sure if he agreed.

"Lets ready ourselves, but give the boy a chance," said Turadyl. "We'll give him till nightfall."

There didn't seem to be much more to say, and most of the party settled back into the silent zone to think about everything that had taken place that day. Ghitu's monkey had been left behind, and made himself a pest before curling up to sleep. Cronwyn in particular though about what he knew of the boy. A few things started to click into place. The way the Sindian pointed to the surrounding cliffs before the ambush by Talel's man. Ghitu seemed to know that the resistance men where in the hills before anyone else. Also the way that Ghitu was so keen to stay with the party. Cronwyn wondered if the disappearance of the hydra and the appearance of the monkey had anything to do with the boy. 

[Meanwhile...]

A wrenching pain pulled Leeham out of the murky darkness. Though it seemed only seconds ago that he hit the ground, the way that his left eye had almost swollen shut and dried blood now blocked his nose told the experienced soldier that some time had passed since he messed with the dusky giant. The light was much too bright, but luckily it was shut out occasionally by something or someone interposing itself between his ringing head and the source... The sun? Probably. The smell, the noise, the heat suggested that he must be outdoors still. But why did his wrists hurt so much?

"Wait, I'm not standing," he muttered to himself. It appeared that he was tied up on some flat surface behind him, splayed out with his feet off the ground, spread apart with his arms above his head. "I'm tied up," it occurred to him. There were harsh voices all around and the only comfort was that if his amour had still been on his back the sandy chain mail would have itched so bad that he would have gone mad. Hee, hee... He chuckled, that's the bright side he thought. But it felt like he was slowly moving... in the dream he was definitely moving... that's what woke him up. The sense of...

Rolling.

With a soft lurch to the right the Halfling warrior began to rotate as the surface behind him spun along with it. The loud creaking and rumbling sounds from before were now distinct in his ears. His world turned upside down and right-side up again and the blood rushed into his pounding head with each rotation. The strain on his arms and legs each turn was alleviated by the fact that someone had put a rope around his chest a few times, lashing him to the wheel. But what wheel?

[In the cave]

The smell was definitely getting worse. The animals were not the only ones getting more restless as the minutes ticked away. The only consolation was that it was getting darker, though sadly not much cooler, as the shadows of the bluff made their way from the cave mouth across the gully. Ark, Turadyl and Malthus rested in the back of the cave and managed to relearn a few spells. Fortunately Malthus had dispelled the silence spell, so although the small sounds of the animals could now be heard, the party could talk to each other out of sight. 

Turadyl didn't hold out much hope of the Hin's survival. Still he was, the elf caught himself thinking mid-thought, a helpful and loyal member of the group. Even if not for very long. If he's still alive and a rescue could be made without getting anybody else killed, then the sea-faring elf was in favor of it. Knowing that he was more useful with his magic, Turadyl forced himself to relax. He had managed to learn 'invisibility' and his flying spell in the two hours since Ghitu had disappeared, but needed more rest before he could also remember 'lightning bolt'. He noticed that Ark seemed to have finished and was dozing already. He wondered again why Ark seemed so eager to go after Leeham, it seemed out of character. 

Kris was also sitting wearily in the darkness, away from the cave mouth. The events of the day had tired him, but the frustration of waiting for Ghitu to return had sapped his energy the most. The pale Karameikian couldn't wait to ask a few questions of Ghitu as well... Kris tried to remember the cool breezes that he used to feel at this hour back in Specularum, especially when he was on guard up the top of the walls. But he struggled to conjure up the feeling in the middle of the dark, heavy heat.

Shayam was on guard at the front of the cave, so he heard the sounds of cautious footsteps outside the cave-mouth. As the thief struggled to see if anyone was coming in the pale light, the steps approached from the southern end of the wadi. Shayam scooped up a small stone and lobbed it at Cronwyn to get his attention. The Darokin slowly moved over next to him. With hand signals Shayam indicated that there was a noise out there. Both of them drew their weapons.

Staggering and moving slowly, a small figure in a dark outfit of blacks and browns, with dirty white tassels came into view. "It's Ghitu, it must be Ghitu," the thief said to himself as the figure came closer, but he drew his two knives just in case. Cronwyn had his hand on his sheathed rapier. 

The figure's face was covered with a wrap that hid everything but the eyes, but when he got close Shayam recognized him... Yes, it was Ghitu. The boy made a short hand gesture to Shayam as he looked upwards towards the cliff top, and then ducked hastily inside the shelter of the cave. Looking Shayam in the eyes at the cave mouth he smiled and said simply, "He's still alive."

Dropping to his haunches a few steps inside, the Sindian tugged at the quilted cuirass and sword-scabbard which had been serving as his disguise. "Oof," he grinned at Cronwyn. "I don't know how you can walk in these, let alone fight. I nearly tripped and fell every third step." Cronwyn remained silent, reminded again at how good the boy's speech was compared with the act he had been putting on for the last few weeks.

Ghitu looked at Malthus, "Brahmin, may I please have some water. I am greatly dried and will be able to better answer your questions once I have removed the dirt from my throat."

Malthus, jaw still agape, leapt at the former idiot's suggestion. Handing the mage some water the priest said quietly, "Are you hurt my surprising friend? I can heal your wounds if you are injured."

"I am fine," Ghitu responded.

"I think it would be better to save your spells for those who need it, cleric - and deserve it," said Ark savagely while holding Ghitu in his gaze.

Ghitu looked away, "Fair words, probably even fairer than you know." The boy took another small drink from the water skin and passed it back to the cleric. "Thank you Malthus."

Cronwyn spoke then, breaking the silence in the party. "It is good to hear that Leeham is still alive, but I can't believe how you have behaved! Have you been lying to us the whole time that you traveled with us? Disguising your own abilities? But why? We would have happily accepted you as you were."

Ghitu looks taken aback, "Lying? No Sir, take that 'lying' back again if you please. By the immortals, having never once addressed you in your own tongue I can hardly be said to be guilty of lying."

"You know what he means!" belted out Shayam.

"You must all know by now," Ghitu answered him, "That there is no secret that a man may keep in his heart of hearts that can not be pried from him." The young boy's voice dropped, and was touched by sadness. "We go against an enemy that uses treachery, sorcery and torture to ensure that any plot against him winds up dead in its infancy. I had hoped that my precautions would prove unnecessary, but the halfling's capture seems to have proven my point... I apologize for the deception, but you will see - what you don't know you can't tell."

Turadyl shook his head. "There is something else I can't understand. You must have still needed to memorize your spells each day. How did you did that without the rest of us noticing?"

"That is easy," answered Ghitu. "I wasn't memorizing my spells. In fact not until this very morning. I think you noticed me coming back today." Turadyl nodded. "The reason for that is that not all of my act was acting." The boy shuddered, "After the things that I have seen I'm afraid that my sanity was sorely tested and I only just survived with it intact."

"So then mage," said Cronwyn sternly. "Who exactly are you and what have you seen and done to end up here with us?"

"Well then, now you know that I am a mage and you can probably guess where I used my gifts on several occasions to try and help your cause, whether you were aware of it or not. But who I am, and how I came to be with the caravan is not immediately important."

There was the sound of steel against leather as Ark drew his sword. He has been sitting back silently in the shadows, listening to everything. Now he sprang forward with his naked sword in his hand and grabbed the boy roughly, the warm metal pushing up against the boy's neck. "Your name child! And where are you from?!"

Malthus and Turadyl looked surprised by this action, but made no move to help, concerned as they were that the elf might do something hasty.

"Wait, wait!" cried the boy. "What is important is that in another hour or so the sun will set. Those in the camp will settle down for a few hours rest before they press onward in the cool darkness of the morning. It seems that this river bed is causing a few problems with their war machines and this pause is necessary. However, as soon as they shore up some ramp ways they will proceed. I gathered that these troops are to help finish some siege in the East, and their commander has driven them on mercilessly through all hardships." The boy tried to inch his neck away from he Elf's weapons, but Ark's grip remained fast. The boy swallowed and continued.

"I was able to find where they took Leeham! I can tell you, the Halfling's appearance has caused a small stir. Some of the goblins in the camp have heard a dwarf was taken prisoner and this has them on edge. One of the desert nomad tribes think it was a... well you would call it a leprechaun, and they are anxious to find his gold. But the last I heard he was still alive, and it seems that the giant has kept him as some sort of prize. Shortly after dark I have a charmed tribesman coming to the wadi near us. He should be able to lead us straight to Leeham, but we don't have time to wait!"

"Your name," repeated Ark calmly without releasing his grip.

"Yes, yes! Fine! My real name is Iskandar," he blurted out. "I'm from Sayr Ulan."

"Please," said Malthus. "Let him go. There will be more time for questions after we have Leeham back safe and sound."

Ark slowly released Ghitu/Iskandar and returned to his spot. The young mage straightened himself and moved round to a spot where he could keep the wild elf in view. "But please continue to call me Ghitu!" he implored. "I don't want to be recognized out here, as unlikely as that seems it could happen." He paused for a second. "Look, important thing is to get the halfling back. We don't have much time."

"Fine," said Turadyl, "that will be enough for now. You said this nomad you charmed is expecting us soon? I can now cast 'invisibility' but that doesn't help the rest of you."

"We can use some of the clothes from those unfortunates outside to disguise ourselves," said Shayam. "Come on Kris, we better get moving. Someone keep an eye on the boy," the thief said looking at Ghitu suspiciously.

Kris followed outside, Cronwyn and Ark were close behind. "You go Malthus," said Turadyl, I don't need a disguise so I will keep an eye on him. Ghitu shook his head, "This is very unnecessary."

 Outside, the rest of the party sifted through the grotty remains. The rising stench of death made Kris gag, but he forced himself back to work. The worst thing was that some of the corpses looked like they had been transported a long way before being dumped. Suddenly Kris was aware that eyes were on them. His hand dropped to his bow, but a signal from Ark in the near darkness stopped him firing. "Just jackals," whispered the elf. Ark finally managed to find a robe to hide his Elvan features. The humans had finished already, so they made their way back to the cave and left the jackals to their grim meal. Splitting away from them, Ark took the opportunity to quickly scout things out himself.

Disguised in his new desert garb, Ark headed to the far wall of the wadi and skirted it in the direction he thought the halfling had been thrown in. This route took him back past the place where the battle had occurred. In that area he stumbled over the halfling's short-sword in the semi-darkness. Continuing up the wall of the wadi, Ark was able to look over the top to the desert plain spread out before him. Where before there had been dry featureless dirt there were now thousands of campfires spread out as far as he could see. The elf's keen ears could also pick out the murmur of voices on the hot desert breeze. The noise of the camp seemed further off than it was. Away in the distance, almost out of his sight and behind the wall of a bluff, something that looked like the prow of a ship stuck out. Ark shook his head. A ship? In the desert? He turned back to the cave, carrying Leeham's sword in his arms.

"Excellent!" Praised Ghitu when he saw the robes that Kris had selected. He was still sitting under the watchful eye of Turadyl, it seemed that nobody had noticed Ark's late arrival. "You have dressed yourself in Muhadi gear." Seeing Kris' confused shrug the young mage continued. "The man that I enchanted is a desert nomads from the Muhadi tribe. They are the most common nomads in this particular force."

"What is the man's name," asked Turadyl.

"Mazjlin," replied Ghitu. "He can be trusted. He is so disillusioned with the Master's rule at the moment that he may have helped us without the spell. It seemed that the Muhadi are unhappy about their treatment since joining in this Jihad." Ghitu looked around and made a few last minute adjustments to the disguises he saw. "In any case its now time for us to go met him. Are you ready?"

Kris nodded. "I think we are all eager to save the little Hin, after all he did save our lives when he distracted the giant. But at least one of us should stay behind to look after the mounts, and preferably get them ready for a quick escape."

"Yes," replied Ghitu, "That will be me, there is no way I am going into the heart of the enemy camp!"

The rest of the party exclaimed their disbelief. Shayam and Ark were particularly unhappy. "There is no way you are staying here by yourself!" exclaimed the thief. "We don't know anything about you."

"I agree," said Ark forcefully. "We don't know you and we don't trust you."

"Why won't you go," queried Cronwyn, trying to be diplomatic.

"You don't understand!" said Ghitu. "My going with you will make the situation more dangerous for you! There are those that are looking for me and my kind in the camp. The 'diviners' can 'feel' me if I get within fifty feet! We would all be caught, that's why I stayed on the outside of the camp while scouting the situation out. Now, we must go!"

"We will go," said Shayam, "But I will stay back with you to keep an eye on things. I hope you are fine with that."

Ghitu sighed in a way that suggested that it was an unnecessary step, but nodded. Cronwyn wondered who these 'diviners' were that Ghitu was so obviously scared of them. It seemed to the merchant that the party really was walking into an unknown situation.

"Let him be," said Malthus. "It will be good to have two people back hear looking after the mounts in any case."

Ark sneered, "Just don't turn your back on him Shayam," he said. Ghitu shook his head and looked away from the elf's glare.

The wild elf then stashed the halfling's weapon in the back of the cave. Turadyl spoke a few words and started floating in the air. With another word he disappeared. "I am ready," he said with words that came out of thin air.

"Then I shall lead you," said Ghitu quietly.  "The meeting point was within sight of the cave and I have firmly pegged the animals inside. There could be no harm in leaving them for a few minutes." With that the mage led them out of the cave and towards the enemy's camp.

The many stars of the desert sky looked down on the group as they quickly and quietly slunk up the steep sandy wall, past the point where Leeham had been captured. As they reached the top the murmurs and groans of a thousand dry throats filled the night, matching the thousands of camp fires in front and mirroring the stars. Ark and Ghitu had seem them before, but the rest of the party were stunned by the size of the army. "And this is only a small part of the force the Master is throwing against the Republic," muttered Cronwyn, knowing in his heart that his country could never stop such numbers. 

Some of the lights which dotted the plan were much higher than the rest, almost like castle windows overlooking a surrounding army. A great deal of noise was also coming from the north, further along the riverbed which they had been hiding in.

Close by, probably only fifty feet away, a group of  five figures could be seen sitting around a fire on the ground. The fire was low and for cooking, as the ground continued to radiate off the heat from the day at a terrible rate, even after the setting sun. The party stared in envy at their full water skins, as the Muhadi tribesman sharpened their yatangas (curved short-swords) and enjoyed dinner.

Ghitu screwed up his face, "He was meant to come alone. But then, maybe that would have proved too suspicious."

Ark felt for his sword beneath his dirty robes. "Perhaps the plan has changed. Should I wade in and dispatch the filthy vermin instead?" He asked, the distaste apparent in his voice.

"No!" hissed Ghitu. "No wait, this can still work." With a low murmur and a blowing of sand from his palm, the Sindian fixed his gaze on the Muhadi. The five tribesman suddenly stopped talking and... dropped off to sleep. "Lets get closer," said Ghitu. "We can wake our man and leave the rest to sleep - don't kill them Ark! It may make our man harder to deal with if you kill his friends! Enchanted or not!"

The party moved quickly to the fire, sitting around it themselves so it wouldn't looked untended. Malthus and Cronwyn also borrowed some cloaks from the tribesman to replace the too small ones they had been wearing. Ghitu identified the man they had to wake.

The Sindian gently woke him. The desert raider sat up and showed panic on his tattooed face. He started to cry out in his own tongue, which made Ark reach for his weapon. However Ghitu quickly and firmly answered him. There was much gesturing towards the rest of the party, but with the Sindian's words the fear and distrust gave way to resignation.

Turning back to the party, Ghitu spoke in Thyatian. "It took some convincing, but the charm seems to be holding. Mazjlin here can guide you to Treeshadow, he says he saw him just before. Apparently our friend is tied to a war machine near the giant's tent, only about three arrow flights from here. Even better, the giant is still digging up north by the river bed and there don't appear to be any guards."

Cronwyn looked concerned, "Can our guide here speak Thyatian?" he asked. "My Urduk isn't good enough to ask detailed questions."

In answer to this the lean desert nomad leaned over the fire to answer the merchant. His face was covered with a variety of heavy tattoos which stretched down to his neck. He wore a dirty gray head-wrap over his head that looked slightly frayed, but there was no mistaking by his muscled frame that he was an experienced warrior. He carried his curved short-sword tucked in at his waist, beneath this his long dirty robes  stretched down to his ankles.

"I speak your tongue Easterner," he spat the last word out as though it was an insult. His speech was thick and heavily accented in a way somewhat similar to Ghitu. He shifted position to squat by the fire while the party waited, expecting him to explain things a little further. But the nomad just starred back at them, apparently not wanting to say anything further.

"Err... yes, thank you Mazjlin," Ghitu finally said. "He told me before that he speaks a little Thyatian," the mage emphasized the word 'little'. "It appears that he sometimes handled matters for his chief and all of the Master's forces give them orders in the 'common tongue' because it is the only language the share." Mazjlin continued to squint at them, his face totally unreadable. 

"Right..." said Cronwyn. "Mazjlin, who are we likely to meet on the way to get our friend?"

The desert man shrugged. "Much of camp resting." Mazjlin gestured upwards, "Tomorrow we leave this..." he hesitated, "You call it 'Plain of Fire'," he smiled at the name, as though it amused him. "So many, many people asleep."

The smile faded from his face as he thought of something. "I am glad we are near the wetlands," Mazjlin looked up. "My people suffer much, they get half the water that goblins do and work twice as hard..." He spat again, a very strong sign of disgust in the desert where water was valuable.

Cronwyn nodded understandingly, "But are there guards on the outside of the camp? Is somebody guarding our friend?" The merchant realized that Mazjlin had not answered his question yet.

Mazjlin shrugged. "No guards on outside. No guards around the," the desert man said a word in his own language.

"That means, well, leprechaun I suppose," Ghitu said. "Most of the army are desert tribesman like our friend here."

"I am of the Muhadi!" said Mazjlin a little louder than was required. Everybody except Ghitu looked confused.

"The Muhadi are the largest and the strongest tribe of the desert." Ghitu said, with some nodding from Mazjlin. However to himself the Sindian was thinking that the Muhadi were also renowned as the most ruthless tribe as well. They had raided and killed a large number of Sindians in the past. But that was before this 'Master' had invaded and upset the balance. Perhaps now they were just as much victims as his people were.

"This is a surprise," said Cronwyn. "I didn't know there were different tribes."

"Well there are," said Ghitu with the desert nomad now just listening. "Several of the other tribes are within this army as well. There are also humanoids, mainly goblins, as shock-troops and engineers."

"Do not forget those scum sent by the Master," said Mazjlin with vengeance in his voice. 

"Yes," replied Ghitu, "Mazjlin told me there is a core of the Master's forces. The general also has his wizard advisor and mistress with him," the mage paused. "She is the one they call the 'White Lady'. Err... I think you would be better off avoiding them." The party said nothing.

"Did you see what condition our friend was in?" asked Malthus of the desert nomad.

Mazjlin shrugged, "He was asleep when I saw him. He had many wounds. I had a good look because many of our people were interested in him. Some say he has a pot of gold which he will give to us..." Mazjlin spat yet again to show his disgust. "These are weak Eastlander dreams. It is a sign of how much the Muhadi have fallen that we now believe such things."

Turadyl considered the information that Mazjlin had given. "I think we should stick together and go fetch Leeham." Since he was still invisible it seemed like his voice came out of thin air. Mazjlin jump back and made a sign against the evil eye, while Ghitu rushed to explain. Turadyl continued anyway, "If we are careful to avoid the working engineers there seems to be a good chance we won't encounter anyone. I'd fly there and back first to scout, but I'm concerned that my spell would expire before the actual rescue. I think the best plan if for me to fly slightly ahead of you all and warn you if there are problems. Hopefully you can all pass for Muhadi or other tribesman in the dark." A sniff from Mazjlin showed what he thought of that idea.

"Anyway,"  said the elf. "After we have Leeham we will have to make our way carefully back here and then leave as quickly as possible. The sooner we do it the more darkness we will have to escape in." It looked like the rest of the group agreed with the idea from the nodding going on around the campfire.

"And I had better get back to the camels," said Ghitu. Mazjlin seemed surprised that he new 'friend' wasn't coming with them, but Ghitu explained.

"Yes Ghitu, let's return," said Shayam meaningfully. "Good luck," said the Darokinian thief as the rest of the party got up and readied themselves. With a few more farewells Ghitu and Shayam disappeared into the wadi, and the rest of the party stood up with Mazjlin. They carefully placed the four sleeping nomads back next to the fire. Their snores were enough to convince Mazjlin that they were unharmed. Then the nomad started to lead them into the camp.

With their disguises wrapped tightly about them the party walked past the first few tents. Mazjlin led, with Cronwyn next to him. Although Cronwyn couldn't see him, he knew that Turadyl flew somewhere in front of them, scouting for possible dangers. Invisibility meant that the elf hadn't bothered with a disguise, so he had brought his long bow. Ark and Kris had struggled to find someway of hiding their missile weapons which were too finely crafted to pass for the nomad's bows. Ark had finally left his back in the cave, abet very grudgingly. Kris had wrapped mounds of rags around his and was now pretending that it was a staff. Cronwyn had his rapier hidden in the inside of the Urduk robes he was wearing. Ghitu had informed him that the term Urduk was the generic name for all the people who wandered in the desert, of which there were many different tribes. But to Cronwyn a desert nomad was just a desert nomad.

Inside the edge of the camp the nomad's tents became more closely packed. A few of the desert warriors were sleeping outside, and seemed to be in identical dress to Mazjlin, but the party's friend gave these groups a wide berth and headed instead for the area were the siege towers were situated. As they walked past the party felt dwarfed - some were as large as warships or small buildings, and had turreted towers and rams attached. Some seemed to made of wood while other gleamed metallic in the firelight. What was really strange was that although each tower possessed huge spiked wheels and rollers, there did not seem to be any harnesses for beasts to drag them. Nor any beasts nearby. How did they get there?

The party could see that in the center of the camp there was what looked like a small fortress on a platform some feet off the ground. Although it was still some distance away, all of them could still see before it four immense creatures, who, in silhouette at least, looked like elephants of the jungle and veldt, but the proportions of these creatures made them truly monstrous. They stood, unmoving, amid the bustle of the camp. Fortunately Mazjlin turned away from this direction, and headed instead for an area a bit closer to the wadi. 

Unfortunately there was now no way to avoid criss-crossing their way through rows of tents, low fires and pack animals. This part of the camp rested like a pack of predators. There was a sense of controlled violence just under the 'calm' of fatigue and imposed military order. Mazjlin did do his best to stay away from the largest bonfires and especially the command tents with their rings of torches. Now the party began to see humanoids of different races in various tribal and unit clothing. Yet despite the variety there was little mixing, and their banners were clustered in pockets well away from the nomads.

As they picked their way carefully along, Turadyl saw a huge stooped figure with a large bundle approaching. It was on a collision course with the party if they continued their current direction. The figure looked like a ogrish creature with two heads, carrying the body of a small horse. It too seemed to be avoiding the light, which is why it was now going to bump into the party. Thirty yards and closing...

Turadyl took one last glance at the layout of the surrounding area and descended. He drove straight for Cronwyn's side, who was walking just slightly behind Mazjlin. The elf hoped that the creature had not spotted them yet and there was a chance of avoiding it. Turadyl whispered urgently to Cronwyn, "Big nasty guy with two heads coming up. Tell your guide and everybody else to slow down and ease to your left, towards those tents over there," the elf gestured with his hand.

"Over where?!" hissed Cronwyn, scared of getting caught and obviously not able to see the invisible elf's hand signals.

"There!" exclaimed Turadyl given Cronwyn a hard shove in the right direction. The fighter almost fell on top of their native guide, and had to put hand on Mazjlin's shoulder to stop tripping over. The nomad looked up in alarm, perhaps  expecting an ambush. "Go, go!" whispered Cronwyn and pointed out which way he wanted Mazjlin to lead them, but it was too late.

A creature with a massively muscled torso had rounded the last corner and was now staring at them in the gentle starlight. Tucked under its arm is the front half of what was either a horse or mule, one of its horned heads was busy furtively munching on a mouthful. The other, equally ugly head pulled back its lips and let loose a hissing snarl which showed its evil yellow fangs. Cronwyn got a good view of the half-chewed horse flesh stuck in its teeth. The merchant could hear Mazjlin's breath catch involuntarily in his throat. Both of them froze solid. Behind them, still unaware of the problem, Kris and Ark caught up.

"Why are we stopping?" whispered Kris, not initially seeing the ogre stuck in the half-shadows. The creature, seeing further 'nomads' arrive bared its teeth again in a very threatening manner. "Oh," said the Karameikian, "That would be why." The thief pulled Mazjlin and Cronwyn down to a crouch, both of them seemed stunned by the creature's horrific appearance. Behind him Ark and Malthus also hit the deck.

The two headed nightmare blinked rapidly at the stooped group. With a snorting grunt it made several gestures to its chest, the party and the corpse under its arm, while giving a rumbling monologue in some unknown language. However, the tone was unmistakable: Back off, or you're dessert.

The merchant gave a deep chuckle from within the heavy folds of his cloak. "No problem," he said in the most native sounding Urduk he could manage. "Enjoy your meal, in fact have one for me." The merchant hopes that the reputation ogres have for not being too smart is not overstated.

The ogre mumbled something and gave a deep shrug. With one head still keeping a close eye on them, it wandered off into some other part of the camp. The party gave a sigh of relief. "Close, very close..." said Kris.

[Meanwhile...]

Back at the cave Ghitu tended to the mounts while Shayam sat nearby. The Sindian boy made sure each beast was well watered and also sparingly handed out some feed. The whole time he could feel Shayam's eye's on him, watching every movement. Finally Ghitu huffed and spun around.

"This is so unnecessary!" he rebuked, "You must know that if I had wanted to betray you I could have done a dozen times already. Why don't you trust me."

The dark skinned thief thought before answering. "If we were sitting back in a tavern in Darokin City, I'm sure I would have forgiven you by now. But you must understand that we are in the middle of enemy territory." Outside the howls of the jackals gave extra emphasis to his words. The Darokinian glanced towards the cave entrance and then continued. "If we make one false step not only will our lives be forfeit, but our countrymen may be enslaved forever. There is too much at stake..."

Ghitu felt his neck where Ark's sword had been pressed up against. He had never liked the obnoxious elf, and now he hated him, but he had to admit he had skill. The blade had not even pricked his skin. He turned to face Shayam, "We are in the territory of the enemy, but I am not your enemy." A pained look came over his face, "I also seek to free my people. I...I..." the boy struggled to continue and to Shayam's amazement tears began to well up in his eyes. "I owe them that. I can never repay them for what I did, but at least I owe them that..."

Shayam was touched, but hesitated to let his guard down. "What did you do?" he queried. "You mentioned this before, what happened Ghitu?"

The boy looked up, as if to answer. But the only reply was a sudden bestial growl from the front of the cave. As Ghitu and Shayam jumped to their feet the cry echoed through the small cave.

Once the beast was past Mazjlin stood up and gestured for the party to continue its progress. Turadyl, who had been watching events with interest, continued his silent scouting ahead. The party was now at the closest point their path was going to take them to the central keep. Ark and Turadyl could now see that what they had taken before as huge elephants from far off Ylav, were actually gigantic constructs. The statues gleamed like bronze in the far off torch light. Even from this distance the 'creatures' size and immobility was intimidating. From his higher vantage Turadyl could see that the beasts were harnessed like draft animals to pull the 'keep', but unlike the smaller ones there were no obvious wheels or rollers. It seemed like the keep was hovering in mid-air! Lights flickered from the windows of the tower and Turadyl decided to keep his distance just in case.

Mazjlin started to shuffle more slowly and veered to the left as the party approached an 'open' area with several large tents on its perimeter. Near one tent opposite them, under a fabric 'porch', there was a huge catapult. He seemed out of place as all the other vehicles nearby were supply wagons. Tied to a wheel of the war machine was a small form, spread-eagled on the spokes. The party's hearts skip a collective beat as they saw that it was Leeham, but whether he was alive or not they couldn't tell. He was still about fifteen yards away.

Seeing no guards, Ark impetuously pushed past Mazjlin and Cronwyn, and began to walk towards the cart. "Wait a second!" hissed the merchant, "It may be a trap." But the hasty elf didn't stop.

Meanwhile Turadyl was keeping watch a few feet above. Because of the overhanging cloth which obscured the halfling, he wasn't sure why they party had stopped and Ark was now rushing forward. Then he suddenly saw someone else coming towards that area of the camp; a short, white-cloaked figure with what looked like a small crowd of people following. The figure's appearance seemed to be causing as a stir in the camp, and everybody they passed roused themselves and followed.

Turadyl flew directly to Cronwyn. "We've got company," he said. "They look important, you had better fall back to the outskirts of this 'clearing' for a while." The trader nodded frantically, he had felt the camp stirring around them. "Yes! You go stop that foolhardy countryman of yours getting us all killed!" Cronwyn was pointing at Ark who had now all but reached Leeham.

"Damn!" exclaimed Turadyl, he hadn't noticed yet. He flew over to the elf at top speed. "Ark Theindel!" he hissed out in Elvish. "Get back there are people coming." Ark jerked his hands back from Leeham's bounds in surprise. The halfling remained totally motionless.

Cursing softly under his breathe Ark started moving back to the party. "To late!" whispered Turadyl. "Just blend in."

"Blend in?" thought Ark, "We're in the middle of a few thousand humans and humanoids in the middle of the desert." But instead of sprinting back to the place where the rest of the party were now loitering in the shadows and attracting attention to himself, he walked a few yards away and turned back to the halfling. Seeing a glimmer of movement, the elf realized he now had company. Without hesitation he picked up a small rock and hefted it towards the halfling. He missed Leeham but he hoped he was close enough to look belligerent. Then he just tried to relax.

As the interlopers entered the circle it was clear that they were important. Those inside nearby tents came out, rousing and kicking dosers join them. With this welcome a trio glided into the area.

Two immense humans flanked a small white cloaked figure. The large humans had cowled visages, but their chests were bare revealing sweat-glistening muscles above their legs that were like tree trunks. The guards had covered faces, spiked bracers and four-foot swords made for a menacing effect, magnified only by the implied threat in the catlike and predatory gait of the one they followed.

A long dark undergarment was visible under the ivory cloak and hood of the one in the white cloak. Long gloves with embroidery on the cuffs could be seen as the figure held back the edges of their cloak with delicate fingers. Ark was sweating beneath his light clothing, and thought this newcomer must off being dying under all those clothes in the hot night air. As the figure passed within a few paces of the elf he caught a glimpse of a female face with white porcelain skin under the hood. Unable to stop himself he gave a shudder of fear as she passed. Something radiated out from her like... The elf couldn't place what it was but it was evil, of that he had no doubt. 

Behind her two guards came a large number of nomads, Muhadi and other sorts, goblins and humans of another type. Crazily enough Ark was actually happy when some other Muhadi crowded around him and see what was going on. The women stopped a few feet in front of Leeham. The crowd of spectators stopped to see what would happen.

From within the hood's depth the owner let loose a little chuckle, like the tinkling of the finest glass bells. Then a purring feminine voice reached all of those who stood watching. (Or in Turadyl's case, floating). "So this... is the Leprechaun?" To the party's surprise she spoke in Thyatian with a clear Darokin accent.

This sentence was apparently directed to the last of the group who only now had hobbled along to enter the clearing. His wizened hands gripped a stubby pair of walking sticks, Ark and the rest of the party were shocked to see the blinking yellow eyes in the vulture's head atop the torso. It looked... it looked like the beast from the buried temple in the desert! But there was no way it could be the same one?!

Turadyl looked down at the ugly creature with  revulsion. Remembering the battle fought against the creature before, he wished he could just scoop down and... But no, that would ruin the group's chance's of success, and their mission was more important. The elf remained where he was.

The piteous Hin was roused by the jingle of the many bracelets adorning the woman's arms. She was dripping with pearls and gold, which chimed slightly as she turned to the approaching Nagpa. "What? What did you say?" the wizened creature croaked as he shuffled closer. The nomads and goblin parted without prompting as the creature made its way forwards. He cupped his hand to his ear-hole and his yellow eyes blinked in the dim light of the scattered torches and lanterns. The woman didn't seem to be bothered by the low light and ignored the monster's question. Turadyl wondered if it was the same creature after all since the one they had fought had certainly not seemed to be hearing deficient.

"It's only a halfling, or at least what's left of one," said the women.

"Eh? Half-ling?" croaked the shriveled thing.

"A vermin that is scattered throughout the Eastlands. Usually timid, but fierce when cornered," she continued contemptuously. "Though what it is doing this far west is beyond me." She studied the Hin in silence for a moment and the Nagpa blinked its saucer-sized eyes and peered at Leeham. After barking some orders to a nearby Muhadi nomad (who dashed off into the camp) the woman glided over to the bound prisoner.

"Wake up, you dear thing," she cooed. Leeham mumbled something in return and tried to lift his head from his bloodstained little chest. Even more sweetly she continued. "I said wake up, little one," and her white-gloved hand gently reached out and raised Leeham's face up by his chin. "You will do what I say, when I say so." This last was comment delivered calmly and politely, but the command was unmistakable. With some effort the Hin kept his head up and looked at her through his un-swollen lid.

"That's better. Who are you and why are you here?" she asked.

"I am a free Hin of the Shires and we may go where we please," he managed to answer with a hint of pride in his parched voice.

**Crack**

With impossible speed her gloved hand connected with his face, and all watching jerked back at the sudden explosion of sound. She moved before any could see it coming and is tenderly cradling his face again almost as soon as it happened. The whole audience involuntarily flinched at the action, but now only the blood that Ark could see trickling out from Treeshadow's ear was proof it even happened.

The guards were unmoved and the Nagpa only craned his head forward a touch more on its leathery neck. Cool as an evening breeze in Selenica, she witch murmured. "You will address me as Your Grace, or next you will loose more than an eardrum."

Through crusted lips Leeham managed something akin to, "Yes, Your Grace."

"What is your name?"

Leeham looked up at his interrogator with hatred in his eyes, but the defiant reply died on his lips. The tension seemed to go out of his limbs as he gazed at her and his expression softened. In a hollow voice he replied. "Leeham Treeshadow, Your Grace."

"Much better," she whispered, and to everybody's surprise the halfling beamed at her.

"And why are you here?" the White Lady asked.

After a short struggle the Hin responded in the same strange voice, "I... I... came with my troops from the Shires."

"What are these 'Shires'?" the Nagpa whispered/squeaked.

Casually stroking Leeham's face his torturer turned to her companions. "A small nation these pests somehow managed to steal from the humans of the Eastlands." Of Leeham she asked, "Where are the others?"

As though the words were being forced from his mouth, Leeham answered, "All of my... my countrymen were killed. Only I escaped, Your Grace."

With a sly grim only Ark could see, the White Lady stroked his face dangerously close to his good ear, "Yes, pet, but that battle was leagues from here. How did you come to be here?"

Ark was close enough to the Nagpa to hear it utter, "Ah, that skirmish." With a self-satisfied sniff, its neck relaxed, "I knew I recognized it."

"I was found, eventually... I got help from desert-men."

With a stamp of his walking stick, the Nagpa shouted, "But why are you here?!"

"Revenge!" the halfling spat back.

"And your companions, those who helped you find us? Where are they?" the White Lady purred.

Back from the action, the party tensed, knowing this was the moment when they would be given away. Above Turadyl readied his 'lightning bolt' knowing that it was hopeless.

With a small smile on his face, Leeham said with great relief, "Now? I don't know, where they are now Your Grace. I hope miles from here. I swear, that is the truth."

With a certainty that chilled everybody in the crowd to the bone, she quipped, "I know it is, pet. I know."

She prodded Leeham for a few more details and the Halfling told her in that same hollow voice a few facts about Talel, playing up the dervish camp's fighting skill. After he had given a few details... she waved dismissively and returned to the Nagpa. "You see? He came from Talel, and that Holyman's head now sits a top the general's rolling monstrosity. The camp is secure, and we will be in Gola Keep on schedule. I told you it was nothing."

At this moment the runner returned with two people from different parts of the camp. One was a tall Urduk, obviously a man of some importance among the Muhadi judging by his elaborate facial tattoos. Mazjlin sucked in his breath and whispered to Cronwyn, "He is Azardi, our chief." The nomad looked concerned and leaned forward to watch what was happening.

Heavy footsteps announced the other. It was Gholkhus the giant, his face stained with sweat and dirt from the exertion of working in the gully. Both figures stopped short when they saw the scene before them. 

When the White Lady spoke this time it was in Urduk, the language of the desert people. On Mazjlin and Cronwyn could understand. "Rackham Azardi!" she said to the nomad. It seemed incongruous that the strong desert man before them could possibly be scared of this little women, but he couldn't look her in the eye, almost cowering in front of her. Only Ark understood. Only Ark had been close to her and felt the malevolence emanating from her.

"Thank you for coming," she continued. "You see this creature before you? It is a half-man. They are a weak but stubborn people that dwell in the soft underbelly of the Eastlands. They will not bother us. An army of them was recently smashed by the force of our Master's Janissaries (Ed - cavalry) to the North. They are not magical. They grant no wishes. There will be no urns of gold. So your plot to steal him from our engineer, here," she looked at Gholkhus who looked at the nomad in anger, "would have gained nothing." She shrugged to one of her escorts.

With a blur of steel, one of her guards whipped out with his yatanga, and in a shower of red the tattooed leader collapsed. The man's messenger and many of those in the crowd reached for their weapons in reflexive response, but froze when the saw the White Lady raise her gloved hand a tad from her side. Mazjlin likewise reached for his weapon, only Cronwyn's and Kris' firm hands on his arm kept him from drawing his weapon. "No!" Mazjlin whispered, his pain showing in his eyes.

Seeing that she had the rest of the group under control, the  White Lady addressed the crowd. "Wrong thoughts must be exposed to the Light!" she intoned. These words were echoed by the humanoids and non-Urduk human's in sight. To the angry runner she continued, "Tell your people not to plot against their fellow soldiers, no matter how little you may like them. We all serve the Master, and we will all share the riches of the East."

She turned to the visibly shaken Giant. Again it would have been comical, the sight of this hulking engine of destruction quivering before this dainty figure... If only the party hadn't been so close to her. "Gholkhus, you are to be commended for capturing a spy our outriders missed. If you like, you may keep him." She patted Leeham on the head. The halfling had collapsed back into a comatose state. "After you have put out his prying eyes." It was just as well Leeham didn't know what she had said, thought Cronwyn. With that the Lady started off the way she came.

"Yes, High One," the giant rumbled through a toothy grin. He looked relieved.

"Oh, and Gholkhus..." she said placidly, stopping, her back to him at the area's edge. The giant's grin faded.

"You will then put out one of your own as punishment for not reporting it. You may choose which one," she sighed. "I dislike having to come and investigate every wild rumor that reaches my ears."

The stone-faced giant managed a quiet, "Yes, High One."

Speaking in Thyatian again she quipped to the Nagpa preceding her, "You see, I am magnanimous." 

And then they were gone.

The bloody guards followed.

The Muhadi slunk away, leaving their dead leader bleeding into the desert sands. The other nomads followed, some entered tents on the outside of the clearing.

The giant walked to the edge of the clearing and raised a large flap, slipping into what appeared to be his lodging.

The goblins and the non-nomad humans disappeared back to where-ever they had come from.

The area was suddenly very dark and quiet.

Turadyl had no idea what the mysterious female had said, but he had seen the execution-style slaying of the Rackham, the giant's initial relief and subsequent nervousness during the women's address of him. It looks clear to the elf that she threatened the giant with some similar treatment/punishment as was meted out to the nomad leader.

Malthus watched the area carefully to see what the others in the party were doing, thanking Halav for saving them he brought his silence spell to mind just in case.

Mazjlin was still shaking his head. Cronwyn gripped him by his shoulder and then passed a hand over his face in indecision. Although none to pleased with the events that have just occurred, he does have to admit that overall the party had been lucky. If that woman had arrived a few seconds later... The mere thinking of the consequences and having to meet that villain face to face made the merchant's skin crawl.

"Let's talk to Turadyl," he mumbled to Malthus and Kris who were nearby. The fighter motioned with his hands to bring the invisible elf over. Ark also reluctantly rejoined them after the breakup of the 'meeting', leaving Leeham alone again for a few seconds.

"You were lucky," whispered Turadyl. "I don't think that any of us want to meet the White Lady face to face, and some of us came very close to us." Ark couldn't see that his countryman's eye's were on him but he felt it.

"I was just thinking that," said Cronwyn. Ark shrugged.

"Anyway," said the invisible elf, "You are clear for the moment. That Lady and her entourage have definitely left and the rest of them don't seem interested in Leeham now. I suggest we get him before Gholkhus carries out his orders..."

Ark nodded, and set out back across the compound. Cronwyn, Malthus, Kris and Mazjlin followed. Turadyl returned to the sky. Those on the ground had to pass the grim sight of the dead desert nomad left to lie on the ground. Mazjlin stopped by him for a second, crouching down and saying a few words in his own tongue.

"For what is worth, I'm sorry," said Cronwyn, also stopping. "I know our people are on different sides, but I think we are both having this war forced on us by this Master."

Mazjlin looked back at him, a brutal look in his eyes, "The Muhadi live for war! No-one has forced it upon us," he said. But then he looked back to his dead chieftain. "But this isn't war."

From in front of them Kris hissed, "Come on!" Ark and Malthus had now reached the Hin, and were checking to see the small man was still alive. He was, but he was in very bad shape. He looked very dehydrated and had wounds all over his body. Besides the bleeding ear his cheek was deeply gouged. Cronwyn left Mazjlin's side and pulled his silver dagger from his belt. Running behind the Hin he swiftly cut through some of the bonds from his feet.

A sudden stirring and grumbling from the giant's tent stopped him. Cronwyn looked at his companions, his eyes widening in fear. As if in answer to the merchant's unspoken worries the flap on the giant's tent opened and the hulking creature stepped out into the night. A blaze of light escaped from inside the tent, thrown out by a large brazier inside his accommodation. Apparently the giant felt the need for further heat to make him more comfortable in the 'cool' ninety degrees (32°C - Ed) of the desert night. In his right hand he held a jagged sword-like knife. Gholkhus glowered off into the camp in the direction his visitors went, then looked up at the stars. Perhaps enjoying them for the last time with both eyes. Near to Leeham, the party froze, perhaps hoping by some miracle that he would not look in his direction. But then the giant turned their way...

The demented cries increased in volume as their source came into view. Two jackals stalked into the cave, drawn by the strong odor of the camels. Suddenly the mounts went wild, bucking in terror as they tried to push back against the cave wall and escape. Ghitu cried out as he got stuck between two animals, and pulled off his feet. Clawing with his hands he tried to prevent himself ending up underneath their thrashing hooves.

Shayam was luckier because he had been against the wall of the cave. With a flash he brought a dagger to his hand and sent it spinning into the side of the first jackal. The creature howled in agony and sprung back. Its mate likewise hesitated, suddenly unsure of itself. In an instant the dagger disappeared, reappearing in the footpad's hand again. A second dagger came to his left hand and he sent that twirling into the same animal. The jackal went down in a spray of blood. This was too much for the other attacker which sprinted out of the cave.

Seeing the way was clear, the camel closest to the entrance made a dash for freedom. Ghitu had freed himself and struggled to keep the rest of them from escaping, Shayam joined him. Within a few seconds they managed to at least stop the stampede, but when the thief turned around Ghitu was also disappearing out of the cave.

"Wait!" bellowed Shayam, still trying to keep the rest of the camels back.

"We need them all!" screamed Ghitu, "I'll calm it down, you keep the rest in here!" With that the boy disappeared into the darkness.

Outside Ghitu felt a slight relief from the heat inside the cave, but not much. He saw the camel fast disappearing up the side of the wadi. Closing his eyes he said a few words and gestured at the animal. As he unleashed the second to last spell he had memorized that day, the animal stopped as though stunned. The camel looked back, then towards the way it had been running. With almost a shrug it pulled up a coarse plant that had somehow survived, and started munching. Ghitu smiled. "Easy when you know how," he muttered to himself." He heard that the noise back in the cave had died down as well. With an eye out for the jackals he started trotting up towards the camel.

Over the ridge at the top of the wadi, and out of Ghitu's view, two humans stopped. With a look at each other they put down the load of slops they had been carrying, and moved towards the camel. As they walked they drew their swords.

The giant's eyes widened in surprise. There was no time to discuss a plan. Before anybody else could move Cronwyn dropped his dagger and began to sprint towards the giant, his rapier suddenly in hand. Gholkhus' face showed alarm and then a deep sneer. Throwing closed his tent flap he leaned back his head to bellow out in alarm and rage... except... no sound came out! Still next to Leeham, Malthus had finished his incantation. No sound would escape from within fifteen feet of the giant.

The next instant Cronwyn plunged his rapier straight into the giant's knee, keeping a two handed grip on his weapon. The blade was driven home through muscle and tendon and appeared on the other side. The giant screamed in agony and dropped its dagger. Making a great fist with his other hand the giant slammed it into Cronwyn's back, forcing the fighter to gasp for breath. 

Kris was frantically throwing rags off his bow, getting ready for combat. Meanwhile, the seething Ark was also sprinting to the giant. Instead of attacking with his sword the fierce elf hit the monster with his shoulder, pushing it off balance and back into the tent. As the giant fell it ripped Cronwyn's rapier out of the fighter's hands, the blade still stuck in the beast's kneecap. One hand gripped at the tent flap and tore it free, the other managed to get a last swipe at Cronwyn which sent the merchant spinning.

The creature screamed at the top of its lungs, but Malthus' spell held. Now within the tent the battle was mostly hidden from view. Realizing that no help was going to be arriving, the giant started to plan its own defense. Recovering slightly, Gholkhus managed to get his good leg under him and climb to a crouched position. Ark was quickly advancing on him. Without thinking Gholkhus whipped out with his arm and picked up a giant-sized camp stool. He brought this crashing down on the elf's head. Ark tried to parry with his Elven sword but the huge weapon crashed through his defenses and stunned him. 

Kris had managed to free his long bow from the rags disguising it, and whispered the magical words into it which let him move faster than the eye could see. Next to him Mazjlin was still standing in confusion. Starting a battle in the middle of the camp hadn't be part of the plan!

Cronwyn had pulled himself up from where he had fallen when he had lost his weapon, and reached down to his waist to retrieve his silver throwing dagger. His hand passed through thin air! The fighter cursed as for the second time in the journey he realized that he had misplaced it.

Sitting invisible in the air above the action, Turadyl wondered what was going on. Not wanting to sacrifice his unseen advantage he decided to leave the battle to the rest of the party and flew down to Leeham. "I've got him," he whispered to Malthus, who had just finished his spell. The elf supposed he should be thankful that at least the impetuous humans thought enough to cast a silence spell first.   

The cleric left Leeham and now also sprinted into the tent. The priest's stomach knotted as he entered the radius of the silence spell inside. Gholkhus gave Ark a second gigantic backhand with the now almost destroyed camp-stool. The blow brought the elf crashing to his knees, blood pouring from his head. The monster flung the remains of his weapon at the cleric, making Malthus pause for a second. Then the beast half crawled / half scrambled across the tent towards a massive flanged mace next to his cot. He reached for it with his immense hand, and then reached back in terror as an arrow appeared in his arm!

Outside the tent Kris had finally managed to get a clean shot at the giant. Without hesitating, and moving at blinding speed because of the enchantment he continued firing. "This is for our friend," he muttered as he launched the next arrow. "This is for your stupidity... This is to ruin your 'precious eyes'... This is..." Suddenly the crashing weight of Mazjlin brought the thief to the ground. Kris dropped his bow and rolled to his feet, knife in hand, knowing that they had been betrayed...

"There, there," exclaimed Ghitu as he finally reached the camel. The beast raised its head and stared at him with an unconcerned look on its face. The boy patted it on the neck and then started to lead it back down the bank.

"Child! What are you doing here?!" called a voice from a few yards away. Ghitu, hadn't noticed but two figures were approaching. The mage turned and saw that although the one of them had called out in Urduk, neither of them were desert nomads. They were dressed in matching ring-mail doublets and dark tabards, with a hand pattern and a small star on its front. Ghitu could tell by their accent that they were not from anywhere within the deserts, these must be some of the Master's elite troops that Mazjlin had been talking about. But at the moment he was more worried about the naked swords they held in their hands.

"Err, me water animals," he called back in Urduk. Without thinking he dropped back into his 'Sindian idiot' routine and smiled at them in a slack jawed manner. "Me go back to camp now!" he exclaimed and started to lead the animal over down the gully.

"Hold it! You're going the wrong way savage!" yelled the same soldier.

"What is he doing out here anyway?" queried his friend. To Ghitu's surprise they had now switched to heavily accented Thyatian. It didn't appear that they thought he would be able to understand them, but as to why the Master's troops should speak that tongue he didn't know. "He should be back in camp," the gristled warrior gained a harsh look on his face. "Even if he is a simpleton I think it would be best if we took him back to the diviners. Better him than us if there is a problem, if you know what I mean..."

A cold sweat broke out on Ghitu's brow as he listened to their words. Slipping his other hand to his waist he thought about retrieving his 'wand of polymorphing', since it was likely that these soldiers would succumb to its effects easily.

**Ttthhhiip-thunk!**

The handle of a dagger appeared, as if by sorcery, in the neck of the talking soldier. Whatever cry the man might have raised tumbled over the edge of the wadi with his corpse. His friend had only a second to appreciate the vision before him, as the thief sprung from the shadows with his second dagger in hand. A roar started in the man's throat but was stifiled as Shayam's second dagger was driven into his stomach. The thief let him slowly slip to the ground, his blood spilling out onto the sands.

"Th... thanks," stammered Ghitu, still taking in the brutal scene of destruction around him.

"Anytime," answered Shayam. "I understand that you had to get the camel back, but it would have been safer to wait for me. You were lucky that I was able to sneak up the bank after you otherwise things might have ended differently." As footpad cleaned his dagger against the body of the slain man, is other weapon magically materialized in its sheath in the small of his back.

"Yes," replied Ghitu, his hands moving away from his wand. He didn't feel that he had been in much danger, but perhaps if the thief thought he had saved him it might soften his attitude towards him.

"We should push this one down into the wadi as well," continued Shayam. "I 'spose that there are many disagreements of this nature in the army. Two more probably won't go missing, as long as no-one pays attention to that cry he managed to get out."

Ghitu looked down at the slain soldier. He noticed he was dressed quite differently from the nomads, who usually wore hide or quilted armor. The tribesman used bucklers, javlins and short curved swords of Sindhi/Urduk make. And no two of the nomads were ever dressed alike. These men had been identically dressed in steel helmets and tabbards, even their swords were identical. They had been part of an organized army, not like the ramshackle nomads. Further thoughts were driven from his mind as Shayam dragged the man over the edge of the wadi.

Cronwyn scrambled around desperately for another weapon. Seeing the giant's dagger on the floor he grabbed it and struggled to his feet. Gholkhus' dagger was about the same size as his rapier but heavier and of cruder make. Malthus leapt past him, placing himself between the giant and the still stunned Ark. Gholkhus had only been hit by the first of Kris' arrows, the others had embedded themselves in the ground next to him.

The giant managed to reach his mace and stand up. As Malthus advanced, the giant swung at him making the cleric block with his war hammer. In response Malthus whipped out with his hammer with a strength impressive for his gaunt frame. It occurred to the cleric that they were lucky that the giant didn't know enough about magic to just run outside the range of the spell and raise the alarm. With stunning speed the giant reversed his grip and started raining blows down upon Malthus. Many of them got through the priest's defenses and stung his arms and shoulders. 

Ark managed to stand up without retching, no small feat considering the way his head was spinning. However, years of battle training kicked in and he was on his feet without making the conscious decision to do so. His short sword lashed out at the heaving mountain of enemy, and it was only when his eye's cleared that he saw that he was now several yards away from his target. Shaking his head, he advanced to stand next to Malthus. Nearby, Cronwyn dove past them and attacked with the giant's dagger.

Outside the tent Kris had recovered his footing and throw the attacking nomad off. "You will pay for that traiter!" he hissed as he sprung to his feet with his sword in hand. To his surprise he was not greeted by an armed and ready enemy, but rather by the sight of Mazjlin vigorously shaking his head back and forth. The man was looking nervously behind Kris into the camp, and mouthing something in his own tongue. He was obviously urging the Traldarian (Ed - the native people of Karameikos who the Thyatians conquered) to stop moving and keep quiet. All of this seemed to unfold unnaturally slowly to the archer's accelerated perception.

Kris realized that the Muhadi seemed genuinely terrified that his archery was drawing too much attention. Also the tackle had left him unharmed. Starting to understand what was going on, the Karameikian lowered his bow and began to scan the area.

Several yards away, a human of dusky complexion stuck his head out from his tent and looked for the source of the noise that had awakened him. Thankfully he was on the wrong side of the clearing to see into the giant's tent. The archer glanced across and saw that within the sphere of silence his companions were now drawing round the giant.

Pow! Mazjlin's fist connected with Kris' jaw. As he stumbled back, Kris realized that he must have pulled the punch as it wasn't too solid and he had been a sitting duck. The Muhadi was pointing at him and laughing heartily. Through his guffaws he was saying something in Urduk in a jovial and slightly moking tone. He eyes however were pleading with Kris as before.

Seeing that the man was still eyeing both of them, Kris ungracefully fell on his backside and massaged his jaw. Shaking his head as to clear his mind he laughed softly and reached up with his hand to Mazjlin to help him up. Simulating a dazed condition he leaned on his desert friend and staggered away while grumbling. He didn't walk directly towards the giant's tent, but did walk away from the guard.

Their audience shook his head and disappeared back into his tent.

None of the efforts of those inside the tent were very successful until one of Malthus' swings connected with the rapier protruding from the leg of the giant. Gholkhus bellowed, silently, and stumbled back tripping over the cot. The resulting fall over-turned his bed and took him outside of the spell's radius. The giant's scream filled the tent! But only long enough to end in a bloody gurgle when the grim Longrunner elf sprung across to bury his sorcerous blade to the hilt in Gholkhus' throat.

The giant collapsed flat on the carpeted floor of his tent, his hot blood soaking into the expensive, occidental fabric. The three giant-slayers looked at each other in disbelief and panic. That scream could have raised the dead...

"That scream could have raised the dead!" though Turadyl as he cut through the last of the halfling's bonds. The elf had stopped when he had seen the attention Kris and Mazjlin had been receiving. As he finished the halfling sagged into his arms, a burden made all the heavier by the elf's concern for his companion's condition. Strangely though, no-one in the camp seemed to be rousing themselves to investigate. 

Cronwyn stared, stunned as the blood slowly crept out of the giant's body and into the carpet. For the first time he realised that he had taken a few hard hits from the beast's fists at the start of the fight. But the first aid and healing could wait until he was out of this accursed camp. In any case he could see that Ark was in far worse condition than he was. The pain of the elf's injuries was now producing an anguished grimace as the numbing effect of the battle rage drained away. The elf sunk to one knee as Malthus rushed over to him.

Cronwyn dropped the now heavily blooded knife about a foot away from the giant's right hand. With a grimace which tried to hide the pain in his chest, he hobbled over to the creatures leg and finally retrieved his rapier. Cronwyn tried to avoid looking at the visage of death on the giant's face. Although the beast was no doubt evil, he can't feel a little ashamed for leaping upon it and slaughtering it in the middle of the night.

Realizing that there was now no point to it, Malthus dispelled the silence spell. Leaning over the bleeding elf he muttered, "Great is thy courage, May Halav shine on you this day." A few of Ark's wound's closed over and he regained enough strength to stand.

"Should I take out its eye?" asked Cronwyn, his head still held low. "Maybe that would provide an explanation?"

The cleric looked confused. He had not been able to understand the white lady's last orders to Gholkhus. Cronwyn explained about what the giant's sentence had been.

"I don't think there is any point," muttered Malthus. "There is no way that this mess could be mistaken for self inflicted wounds."

The merchant nodded. "At least his last scream with probably be attributed to him carrying out the order. We may be lucky enough that this won't be discovered to morning." 

While Cronwyn tried to patch the tent flap back into its correct place, Malthus helped Ark to his feet. Kris and Mazjlin appeared through the door, followed by a still slumped Hin who appeared to hover inside as he was carried by the invisible Turadyl.

The three of them were amazed by the chaos inside the tent, but seemed frantic to leave because of the noise that had been made. Cronwyn filled them in on the giant's last orders and his theory about how the cry may have been mistaken for something other than a death rattle.

"Here, you take him," Turadyl said as he passed the halfling to Kris. "I'll go back outside and see if we got away with it." With that the elf flew back out to scout.

Malthus moved across to examine the Hin and cast two more healing spells. "My last of the day, I'm afraid," he said.

Cronwyn managed to finished his repairs on the door. "Lets go!" he exclaimed.

Mazjlin led again, with Cronwyn at his side. Kris and Malthus dragged the comatose Leeham between them. Malthus had not been too seriously injured by the giant, and had enough wits about him to suggest that they throw a few rags over the halfling at an attempt as a disguise. With the nomad guiding them, they started moving back through the tents.

 Turadyl anxiously kept watch from above, but was happy to see that the camp had ignored the giant's cry. It appeared that word had got round about what was required of the giant that night. The way in front of the party looked open as far as he could see.

Leeham was no help at all, so Kris decided to throw him over his shoulders. Passing his bow to Malthus he staggered on under the load of the halfling. The cleric's cool touch of healing had done little to revive the shattered hero. It seemed to Malthus that there was something beyond the physical wounds that kept him in his exhausted state. Perhaps it had been the white lady, although it may have just been the dehydration and exposure to the elements.

For that matter the priest realised that they were all suffering from the long day and endless heat. It seemed incredible that this was still the same day that the hydra had attacked them. And here, even in the dead of night the temperature was as high as back in Karameikos on a summers noon. The ground felt to Malthus like a potter's kiln. This was nothing like the Ylari sands, or even the trackless Sind they had travelled through. It was indeed the start of the Plain of Fire.

The camp rushed by as the rescuers made their way back towards the gully and safety. Mazjlin appeared to be retracing their route in, but not as stealthily as before. The group quickly zigzaged through the sea of tents and baggage. They passed human troops resting or tending to equipment, while the humaniods seemed eager to go on.

They managed to get almost to the edge of the camp again without problems. Now they headed south back towards their cave hiding place. Up above Turadyl was busy keeping his eyes on a pair of gargoyles winging their way to the roof of one of the way machines. As he watched he saw one of these machines move BY ITSELF from one part of the camp to another. Great magic was at work to create such machines. Looking back to the party he cursed. While he had been distracted the group had changed direction again, and were now heading back directly towards the wadi. Unfortunately their course had taken them straight towards three figures overlooking the rim of the gully. The party stopped short some distance away, still un-noticed but probably not for long.

The elf flew down at top speed to Cronwyn's side. "They haven't seen you yet," he whispered. "Can you get under cover?"

  "We'll try," said Cronwyn. "Mazjlin, maybe we should head towards that tent?"

The nomad nodded. They were now at the very edge of the camp where the tents were a lot sparser. Not intending to go inside, but just to avoid the trio the party started off in that direction. Turadyl stayed behind and kept an eye on the problem. As he watched he saw two of them looking at an unfurled parchment by the dim light of a glowing pearl, and peering off to the East. Stitched onto the front of their surcoats was a pair of gold daggers.  The third was a little removed and dressed differently. On the back of his tunic a large yin-yang pattern was embroidered in red and black, he looked at the other two but did not join in their conversation.

As Turadyl watched in horror the two finished their discussion and started walking back towards the camp. Their path was going to take them exactly towards the tent the party were heading towards. The third figure stretched, yawned and then turned to follow the other two. Suddenly the elf realised how out of place the party was. He had seen no other elves in the camp and Ark's costume was not longer as good as before. Plus Kris was carrying a half-covered halfling over his shoulder. Cursing again at how he was always rescuing the party the elf caught them back up.

"Its not going to work, they're now heading right in your direction! You better do something," Turadyl said.

"Go," said Mazjlin while pushing Cronwyn towards the tent.  The nomad then started directly towards the three-some.

"What?" hissed Cronwyn.

"Just go," whispered Kris coming up behind with Leeham over his shoulder. The archer had learnt to trust the nomad a few minutes before.

Not understanding but not wanting to draw attention, Cronwyn continued towards the tent with the rest of the group.

The ensorcelled nomad walked directly into the path of the three approaching officers and stopped. With his arms folded across his chest he stared out into the desert night. As the three came closer there was even a slightly antagonistic glitter in the desert-lander's eyes. The first two hardly even noticed him as they walked by, ignoring as usual their disposable allies. With a shudder Mazjlin suddenly recognized the third one - he was a Diviner. These men were the power behind the generals, constantly patrolling the camp for 'wrong thinkers'. The nomad wondered if he had done the right thing in trying to save his new friends.

He changed the expression on his face but it was too late, the Diviner noticed the hostility in the tribesman's tattooed visage and stopped a step behind. He turned slowly, peering at the nomad from over the leather half-mask that covered his jaw and mouth.

"Greetings to you, friend," he said in fluent Urduk. "Tell me, do you feel as confident in our progress through this infernal landscape as our illustrious generals here?" The Diviner walked back to face Mazjlin, as the two generals also halted. "Hmm?" he queried. The nomad tried to hide the fear in his eyes.

Meanwhile the party had finally managed to get to the tent, but Cronwyn was now unsure what to do.

"What are you waiting for!" hissed Kris.

"Its not our tent!" Cronwyn whispered back. "We can't go in here we'll be discovered!"

"Grrr!" said the thief.

Pausing for a split second the desert man opened his mouth slightly, obviously deciding whether keeping totally silent would be safer. Then he said forcibly "That is no concern of mine... I tire of the mistakes and mourn the loss of my country men."

The nomad straightened up and thrust his chin out as he continued in a flat tone, "We would have ended this farce and gone home with spoils long ago if we followed our own ways."

The Diviner stared daggers at the tribesmenn over his leather mask. With a choked voice he croaked," You presumptive... Do you know the penalty for so *wrong* a thought?! Why in the Empire I'd"

A few steps away the officers seemed to be enjoying the exchange. One was almost chuckling to himself, the other looked away to hide his grin. As he did so he glanced back at the party hesitating outside the tent.

"They've seen you!" whispered Turadyl forcefully. "Stopping mucking around and get inside the tent!"

With a sigh Kris dumped Leeham onto Malthus and entered the tent. Cronwyn followed trying to look natural. Inside it was dark and the sounds of snoring could be heard. While the fighter hesitated the Karameikian rouge used his experienced hands to feel the form of two sleeping soldiers. Alas, they would never see the lands of the East, nor their homes. Without mercy, and to Cronwyn's shock, Kris slaughtered them both. By the time Malthus and the rest of the party entered the tent it was full with the scent of blood.

"Leave him," chuckled the officer as he turned back from the tent. "Its late and she'll want us moving in a few hours. I want to rest. No, I need to rest."

"Anyway," replied the other general. "He's not that far off the mark either," he nodded to the burly nomad. "We have been moving too slowly. We should be rushing on, capitalizing on our gains, not hanging back with the war machines. But the Holy Ones want these juggernauts in the East, and by the Dark Mother, they'll get them. If we go faster, we loose them to the Waste. You wouldn't want to give so *wrong* an order would you, Questioner Serred?"

The face of the Diviner reddened, while Mazjlin remained silent.

Kris slowly cleaned his blade on the dead man clothes while Cronwyn watched by candle light. The Tradarian seemed unexpressive, as though the murders had not troubled him. Also squeezed inside were Malthus, Ark and Leeham. Turadyl had stayed outside the tent to keep guard.

"Was that necessary?" asked Cronwyn.

Kris nodded, "I'm afraid so. It had to be done and I was here and ready to do it."

"My brother...!" called out Leeham, suddenly coming out of his fatigued state. "But I promised..." his last words were cut off as Malthus' hand squeezed over the halfling's mouth. Leeham's eyes widened in terror, but then closed as he lapsed back into his dream. The party stared at each other and hoped it had been quieter than it seemed.

Sharing an ugly grin the two officers turned and went, leaving the red-robed Serred behind. The Diviner hurried after, casting a nasty glare over his shoulder at Mazjlin as he left. The trio walked back into the camp, well clear of the tent the party were hiding in. Mazjlin let out his breathe with a loud whoosh.

"They're gone," reported Turadyl as he pushed his way into the tent.

"Good," said Cronwyn. He stared at the rest of the party stuck in the hot, dark and now very cramped dwelling. "I want to talk to you while Mazjlin isn't around. If we are going to let him go, the edge of the camp would be best and that isn't far away, but I think there is a better plan." He turned to Ark, "How long will that enchantment last?" The merchant also looked towards the empty doorway where he guessed Turadyl was standing.

Ark look up at the question, one of the wounds on his head which Malthus had healed was bleeding again. He shrugged, "I don't know but considering how much he has helped us so far I don't think he is worth it."

"It could be as short as a day or a month," answered Turadyl. "It depends how strong his will is and how much he is naturally inclined to do the things we ask of him." The flap of the tent momentarily opened, "And you better hurry up because he is coming back."

"I think he is worth the risk," replied Cronwyn. "I think he might be vital in our trip across the Plain of Fire to the Black Mountains. It also appears that he is not too happy with the treatment of his men by who ever those servants of the Master are. Perhaps he might be on our side even without the enchantment?"

"Best to leave the nomad as soon as convenient," growled the xenophobic elf.

Further discussion was shortened when Mazjlin's tattooed head under the tent flap. "We go," he said simply while gesturing with his hand. The party evacuated the tent, Malthus now taking responsibility for the Hin despite Kris' protests.

The rest of the journey through the camp was uneventful. As they came over the edge of wadi they saw the place where the cave was hidden. Cronwyn then took over from Mazjlin, and led them down to the hiding place. Out of the dark came a hooded figure, with daggers in both hands. The weapons were quickly discarded as the party recognised Shayam.

"By Asterius, you did it!" exclaimed Shayam. "Excellent! Come inside, soldiers were hanging around here a moment ago and more might arrive."

Inside Ghitu also greeted them. "Congratulations," he said with a grin. But the smile faded when Malthus eased the halfling down and Ghitu saw his condition. The mage shook his head and looked at the cleric, "Brahmin, can you hold him on your saddle? We should be out of here as soon as we can." At the back of the cave the camels were disturbed by the sudden appearance of so many people.

Malthus nodded. Meanwhile Cronwyn spoke, "Then lets go."

Without further rest or comment they moved out into the desert night heaved the mounts after them. "Everythings packed," said Ghitu. Obviously the boy had continued his old jobs while in the cave. "Just mount up and stay close." When some of the beasts groaned while being mounted, the grimy servant made a chopping gesture and hissed until they fell silent again.

"Where is Turadyl," asked Shayam.

"I am here," answered the invisible elf. With a blink he dispelled his spell and appeared. It seemed that his flying spell had finally run out.

"Good, good," said the Sindian as the elf mounted. "Gather round. This spell will not last long but will give us a nice head start. Push your mounts but hold something in reserve." Ghitu looked down and muttered, "But I pray to Parjani we won't need it."

With a sudden jolt to everyone's stomach, not unlike falling a short distance, the world swam around the party. Ghitu had unleashed his last spell of the day. The stars snapped back into place above them, and then everyone was aware of their beating hearts drumming a queerly slow cadence over a slight ringing in their ears. With a loud shout Cronwyn kicked his camel and started the ride.

22-Nov-2002