Everyworld

Book One

Chapter One

Location:  Eastern equatorial desert.

Mission:  Primary direct incursion.

Phase:  20.

Objective:  Disable the Tower of Blood.

    When we reached the top of the hill, we finally stopped.

    It was the hottest of days. Scorching. Had we been wearing genuine, metal chain mail under our bulky iron plate, like the natives of that backward dump do, we would have been roast like end-of-the-month meatloaves within hours. But, lucky us, the cooling systems built into our real armour, underneath the near-useless plate, meant that only our exposed parts were being barbecued.

    Even though it was late in the afternoon, the Sun was still pounding down hard enough to make its intentions obvious: The blazing orb wanted the green island in the lowlands before us to be as arid and desolate as it had made the surrounding land. It wanted to raze every building and farm that made up the town, reduce it to sand.

    According to the laws laid down by Mother Nature, it had every right. That land belonged to the desert.

    But the Sun was not getting its way. The rough circle of green that contained Bathrel, about eleven miles in diameter with the township at its centre, might have been plucked and transplanted directly from Eden itself. An urban oasis in the desert. A wrong oasis in the desert, complete with neat farmland and orchards.

    We dismounted. That sounds easier to do than it was. We had pushed the pace up for several hours, to reach the town before the evening quiet set in, and my legs were still in canter mode – tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing. They were not minded to behave right for walking or standing.

    I was first to speak. We had been silent for most of the day – riding horses across seemingly endless desert wastes is not really conducive to small talk.

    "Talk about a pain in the arse!" I made myself busy rubbing my thighs and calves, as it says you should do in the Riding Ancient Beasts that don't Have Motors manual. "How long did I sign up for, again?"

    Daniel chuckled as he stretched and stamped his feet in a patch of soft sand, jarring his muscles back into a flexible state.

    "Only eleven years," he said. "Get lucky, you won't spend too much of it in the saddle. Get smart, almost none."

    He fired a piton into a biggish rock, and we tethered our beasts-without-motors. Squatting at the top of the stony incline, we looked down at the verdant anomaly. The training had been very clear, on that point: Pause for a few minutes before diving into a new unknown. Let your blood flow; let your hormone system reconfigure; let your mind focus.

    So, just like it says to do in the manual, we relaxed to give our bodies time to prepare themselves, and chatted.

    "Weird," I said. "You can read about things like this, view them on screen, but when you see them with your own eyes they just look wrong. It's like the area was cut out with a biscuit-cutter, and then just plonked down in the middle of the desert. It looks like there isn't a blade of grass outside the ring."

    "Get used to that kind of feeling," Daniel told me. "The reality's always a surprise. Just don't let the weird stuff jar you hard enough to screw with your thinking."

    "I can handle it. I think I can handle it. I hope I can handle it."

    "Good attitude."

    I nodded toward the town. "I don't think much of their fortifications."

    A chest-high stone wall, staggered in places to accommodate outlying buildings and avoid large trees, seemed to be the town's only defence against attack from outside.

    The area for hundreds of miles around the town was renowned for its nomadic clans. Many of them could be aggressive, when the mood took them, and any one of them could have overrun such meagre defences with little or no difficulty.

    "They don't need walls," Daniel muttered. "No-one on this Earth would dare attack them."

    I pointed toward the tall, deep-red spire that sprouted skyward, dead centre of the habitat.

    "I'll take a wild guess," I ventured, "and say that that might be the Tower of Blood."

    No other building stood within fifty yards of the spire, despite the crowding of the buildings and streets that surrounded the tower's no-man's land.

    "You might just be right, there," Daniel grinned, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, "given it's the only building down there has more than two storeys."

    He yawned broadly. Sitting and rolling onto his back, he heaved his sword-belt from its riding position and started moving his legs through the air as if he were riding a bicycle. It looked a bit silly, but we were both in need of quite a lot of flexing, after three days of motorless beast.

    "First objective," I pronounced formally. "Find the wizard."

    Daniel threw me a half smile.

    "Right," he said. He jerked a thumb at the tower. "He's in there."

    "Excellent work!" I grinned. "I am honoured to be serving with such a skilled detective! Since you've solved that one, shall we move straight on to the next phase?"

    "Well, you can, if you like, but getting the wizard out first might be a good idea. The next step might be a bit tricky with him home."

    "Not really. We could get the gems whether he were there or not."

    "Sure, but taking on the combination of the tower, the gems, and their controller is a mite more dangerous than taking single steps, so it might be a smart to stick to the plan, don't you think?"

    "If you say so," I sighed resignedly. "All I want to hear now is that it's safe to go into the town for a meal. Any more saddle-rations and I'll end up looking like a dried-up, salted cow's arse."

    "Let's see exactly what's cooking, first, shall we?" Daniel sat up. "I'll see what the satellite's got."

    He lifted his arm just so, and his left wrist-pack appeared.

    He hummed a melody-free tune to himself as he pressed buttons and read off the replies from the main computer, circling in orbit miles above us.

    "No Aspects present, of course," he said, after a few moments. "A number of mystical power sources inside the tower itself, and a smallish one in a building toward the east end of town, but nothing's moving."

    "So we can go and eat?"

    "So we can go eat."

    The tavern was devoid of custom, before we entered. I noted that there were not too many ale or wine stains on the badly lacquered floor and tables, which suggested that the place might not be doing what would be called a roaring trade.

    The keeper eyed us suspiciously, as we chose a table that gave us a good view of everything necessary. Daniel waved for ale.

    "We don't get many strangers, in the hot months," the keeper told us, dumping a jug and two clay mugs on the table, "and they don't stay long."

    "Three or four days," Daniel growled, in the same language. "We'll be here three or four days."

    "If you say so," The keeper chuckled. "Will you be wanting food?"

    "Not half!" I chimed in. "Forgive my grumpy friend; we've been in the saddle a long time, and he's not as young as he was."

    Daniel glowered at me.

    "We have a fine gurutlu khangyal," the keeper said. "It's a bit warm for a khangyal, I know; but we had a taste for it, and a surplus of gurut, and killed two cur with one pit."

    "Khangyal's fine by me," I told him. "After what we've been eating for the past few days, it will be an absolute delight."

    The keeper lumbered off to fill the order.

    "Don't get too friendly with the natives in affected areas," Daniel murmured, after the keeper had gone. "Remember that we might have to kill half of them, to save the rest. Stick to the manual."

    "I don't see any harm in being civil."

    "Neither did I, first time out. I learned the hard way. Do it by the book, and you'll suffer less for it."

    "But..." I stopped, and sighed. "No, I suppose you're right." I shrugged my shoulders a few times, to jiggle the plate armour into a more comfortable position for sitting. "I've seen the case studies. It just seems so much harder to take in, now that we're actually here. These are real people, not just faceless numbers, even if the world they're living in feels so unnatural."

    "Unnatural's right," Daniel consented. "Everything seemed just as unnatural to me, on my first expedition. We've grown so used to all the technology of home that all this magic and demon stuff doesn't fit into our brains, any too comfortable."

    "So the training says; but you have to actually be in an affected area to really understand it," I said. "And what's a khangyal, anyway?"

    "Not a clue. We'll have to log it."

    "As long as gurut's not fish. I don't fancy fish."

    "Oh yeah, it's real likely to be fish. No end of fishing boats round here."

    "Now, are you sure you're up to this?" Daniel leaned against the alley wall, looking over at the tower, which glowered back at him across its fifty-yard barrier of empty space.

    "Do I have a choice?" I tried a smile, but the tension must have been obvious on my face.

    We had had barely six days to become accustomed to the strangeness and familiarity of the so-similar yet so-different world, when we had fallen across the wizard's plans to influence the unaffected kingdom we had chosen as our jump-off point. Daniel had insisted that we get involved – as a way of gaining supporters, and because we did not need a wizard interfering with our plans – and I had bowed to his experience.

    Six days, though! Not even enough time to get used to the air and water. I hoped that the churning in my stomach was just nerves, and not some ancient creature whose spores I had ingested. The khangyal had been nicely palatable, but I was still none the wiser as to what everything in it was.

    The sun was sinking past the horizon, challenged by the few stars that had dared to show up early. Clean sky. No pollution. It was startlingly beautiful, to we who had never lived under such pure skies. I would have found it easy to just stare at the crisp glow above the rooftops and drift off into a dreamy reverie – were it not for the small fact that we were there to prepare for an assault on the most dangerous building for hundreds of miles. 'Casing the joint', as Daniel put it.

    "Let's go, then." Daniel struck out with a casual but long gait, strolling straight across the no-man's land between us and the tower.

    I followed, trying to act just as casually, as I nervously jinked across to an optimal support path.

    That "little stroll" proved to be another experience that was far more daunting in reality than such things had been in simulation.

    My pulse was racing, and I had to use every trick I knew to force myself to remain calm and walk normally – we had to look like we were meant to be walking across that huge, open, coverless space toward the tower; it had to look natural.

    How long does it take a fish in a barrel to stroll fifty yards? Subjectively, it took at least an hour.

    The tower was bigger than it had seemed from a distance; its height made it look deceptively thin, but its square base was at least thirty yards across, and the diameter of the higher levels was not far short of that.

    We finally reached the base of the tower. I leaned my back against its dark blocks, taking an outward view to cover Daniel as he inspected the walls. The black stone of the base seemed to pulse through to my chest, as though given life by the dark magics that had helped create it.

    ... Or that might have just been my own blood, running through every inch of my body at twice its usual pressure.

    "Here!" hissed Daniel. "I've found it already!"

    I closed on him, feeling dreadfully over-exposed, with all that wide-open, vacant space between us and the other buildings of the town.

    "See where there are gouges and scrapes in the block-work?" he said, running his fingers across the stone. "That's where things have been hauled up by workmen. There'll be a usable opening, directly above us."

    "A low-security opening," I added.

    "Yeah. The hired help's entrance."

    He painted the section of wall with low-level radiation, so that we could zero straight in on it, when we went back for real, then pressed the sonic scanner to the wall, to run a surface scan and map the precise locations of nearby openings.

    "So we're already done for the day?" I asked.

    "Yeah. Best not push our luck."

    I continued to look outward from the tower, at the buildings across the no-man's land. Perhaps unsurprisingly, none of the houses had windows facing the tower, but there were lots of gaps and alleyways between them, through which I could see the occasional person going about his eventide business.

    It was almost eerie that none of those people had looked our way, or spotted us. Daniel had told me to expect that, saying that it was always that way, because people tend to blot out things that they are afraid of, even if they have to accept them as part of their daily life. But it was still a very strange kind of isolation – being alone and ignored, with so many people so close by.

    "Stop worrying," said Daniel, obviously having guessed what I was thinking. "If any of them do see us, they'll just run home and hide under their beds."

    "I can't see myself ever getting used to this," I breathed. "I must have been out of my mind, when I signed up."

    "Ha!" He slapped my shoulder. "We're done here, anyways, so let's go get a beer. You'll feel way better with a hangover in the morning!"

    He sauntered back toward the outer ring of buildings, with a seemingly total disregard for secrecy.

    "Who..?" I tried to force my eyes open. "Who was..?"

    I couldn't think. It was dark. Nothing made sense. It felt like I had been drugged – as if I knew what being drugged felt like. Air rasped across my parched tongue, burning my throat as my lungs sucked it in, and my head was pounding like a...

    Like a what? What pounds?

    I could not cope with it. I went back to sleep.

    "Rise and shine!" Daniel's voice. "The sun is shining; it's a brand new, beautiful day!"

    "Oh, go and get..." I buried my head in my... whatever it was. A pillow, it was not. It stank. I did not want to put a name to what it stank of. "Just..." My brain refused to throw out suitably insulting words.

    "Come on, you lazy ass. We've got a nice, quiet day, today, and it starts with breakfast."

    I felt him doing something to my arm, and heard the snap of latches, as the warm plastic sheath of a medpac closed around my upper arm.

    "There you go. You should start feeling better in a few seconds."

    "Oh God..." I moaned, but I felt it starting to work.

    "That local beer's pretty good, isn't it?" Daniel was checking our inventory, or something. Whatever it was that he was up to involved a lot of clicking and snapping noises. "I'm not so sure about your taste in women, though."

    "Oh God..." Clean blood was reaching my brain, and my memory was beginning to work. "Thank Christ we're only here for a few days!"

    "Eat you alive, that one."

    My arms and legs were starting to feel like they were parts of my body again, so I decided to use them to get away from the dreadful smell of the pillow.

    By the time I reached my feet, I was nearly human.

    "This bed chucks up something awful," I said, looking down at it. It was all animal pelts, probably from the farms off the western side of the township.

    "Chucks up?"

    "Stinks."

    "Oh." Daniel finished what he was doing. "Funny how they force-fed us every language except that nutty one you speak."

    "Let me know when I should laugh," I grumbled.

    "So, are you ready for breakfast, now?"

    "As I'll ever be." I unhitched the medpac, pressing the 'retrieve' button. It vanished. "We don't have to wear that awful plate, do we?"

    "For breakfast?"

    "Yeah. Point taken."

    "Keep your flex armour on auto, though. These are dangerous times."

    "Right-O."

    "Right-O?"

    "What? It means 'right-O', OK?"

    "Yeah, I know, but it's a surprise to actually hear someone say it."

    "Hilarious," I said. "Really funny. You missed your calling."

    Eggs, fried meat, and bread for breakfast. That seems to be pretty universal. And nicely satisfying.

    We were able to openly discuss the mission, while we ate, by using a language that no-one there could possibly know – English. Or I did, at least; Daniel stuck to that awful language of his that bears the same name.

    "It'll be best to check it out," Daniel said. "We don't want anything coming at us from the flank."

    He was a little worried about the other source of mystical power that the satellite was registering.

    So was I, to be honest. There was supposed to be only the one mystic in the town, who guarded his secrets jealously – so who else would have mystical objects?

    "It might be innocent," I said. "Just someone who picked up a charmed rock, or something; but, as you say, I'd rather know for sure."

    "We'll leave it until evening. Today is for throwing money around, making pals of the locals."

    "They seem friendly enough. I don't see there being too many problems."

    "People are always people; mostly they'd sooner laugh than fight."

    "Until they meet you, at least."

    "Damn straight. Ten minutes with me is enough to cure anyone's peaceful tendencies."

    So we played the tourist for the day, in an ancient land of wondrous artisanship. It was actually a lot of fun. These were good people, who lived off the land – no matter the strange location – and by making trade goods, which they bartered whenever a caravan passed through.

    The quality of work, and of the fresh produce, ranged from impeccable to superb, so we managed to get people chatting about their work and their lives quite easily – our being genuinely interested helped to make it look convincing.

    We needed to know as much as possible about the wizard and his habits: Where he went, when he went there, what he ate, how and when his provisions and purchases were delivered, how many other people lived or worked in the tower, and anything else about him that we could get people to talk about.

    There was no way of knowing which nugget of information could be important, so we wove questions about him into everything we discussed.

    The upshot of the information gathering was none too good, from our point of view.

    Just as there are different types of people in any other walk of life, there are different types of wizard.

    Some are outgoing and gregarious, and use their abilities to make themselves rich and famous; others are introverted, and hide themselves away in desolate places, conducting insane experiments – but there is every other kind of personality in-between. And, although their power all comes from the same basic, demonic source, they obtain it in different ways, and for different reasons.

    Our boy, Baret, was a big ego.

    He was not the creator of the Tower of Blood; he had overthrown the wizard who had created it.

    That came as a surprise to us. We had not heard mention of a previous occupant.

    We did not want surprises.

    For most of the people of the town, Baret's usurpation had been a good thing, because the creator – some called him 'Scott'; others called him 'Stock' – had been the hermit type, who did not care that the skirt of fertile land around his tower made an ideal camping ground for nomads, and had eventually become home to a thriving town. He had ignored the colonists altogether, supplying himself by sending out flying creatures to gather what he needed.

    Scott/Stock's power had derived from a number of crystals – accounts varied as to how many – that drew on the demonic energies.

    Baret's powers came from the same family of crystals, but he, being a big 'I Am!', had wanted more, so he had attacked Scott/Stock, and had come out the winner.

    Baret's big ego required worship, so he interacted with the townsfolk more than had Scott/Stock, and his interaction had been generally benevolent-ish.

    That was a problem for us for two reasons. One: Baret had a lot of attendants to pamper his ego, so the tower always had people wandering around its halls; and two: A good proportion of the people of the town actually liked him, so were likely to support him against us.

    Getting him out of the tower for a couple of hours would not be a problem, but the attendants who remained in the tower would also have to be dealt with, perhaps brutally. I was not best pleased at that.

    Daniel had no trouble with hurting people, because he knew from experience – really knew – that if maiming and killing is the only way ahead, then you have to bite the bullet and treat it as you would any other task.

    I was not so sure about myself. I was not certain I could pull the trigger, or, perhaps more appropriately, swing the sword, when faced not by a simulation, but by a real human being – someone who had done nothing wrong, other than live in a time and place that needed to be 'adjusted' for the good of the many.

    But that was our main priority: The demon influence had to be removed. Individual people were secondary to that; a few corpses was a small price to pay, considering the stakes we were playing for. We had to free the world from the demons' cycle of magical expansion and cataclysm, so that it could grow in the sciences, and, if we were lucky, learn to fight its former masters.

    The world was dangerously close to the cataclysm phase; Daniel and I had eleven years at most to dispel as much magic as we could, across as wide an area as possible, to initially slow down, then hopefully avert, the next cataclysm.

    Just the two of us, with no possibility of reinforcement.

    So we had selected one of the tiny kingdoms, one which had already lost its wizards, charms, and magics to a more powerful kingdom, and which had made moves into philosophy and alchemy. There we had begun the long task of gathering supporters, who would fight with us against the more magic-based kingdoms.

    But before we could continue with that, we had to head off Baret's attempt at subordinating the rulers of 'our' kingdom – meaning that we had to confiscate the source of his power, his crystals, and break his connection to them.

    "Easy-peasy." I muttered.

    "Say what!" laughed Daniel. "Is this more of your incomprehensible gobbledygook?"

    We had returned to the inn, after the market had closed, so that we could update the records.

    "Look, you blasted colonials might not speak English properly, but the rest of us manage just fine, OK?" I told him.

    "But 'easy-peasy'! You gotta be kidding me!"

    "It's a children's rhyme. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy, something, something, something, something. I don't remember the rest."

    "I'm real sorry to hear that! But just what is it that's 'easy-peasy', anyhow?"

    "Oh, just that we knobble Baret, steal and/or destroy his gems, and try to do it without destroying the town and killing everyone."

    "'Knobble'?" He laughed ever louder.

    "Oh, shut up."

    "Hey, but this is important input! If we wanna knobble the guy easy-peasy, we gotta discuss it!"

    "Remind me to buy a dictionary," I said, "so that I can ram it up your nose."

    "Do that! I want one! This is an education, for me!"

    A change of subject was required. Very much required.

    "So, at what time are we going to investigate that second power source?"

    "Give it an hour; let it get a bit darker. It'll be easier-peasier, by then."

    The streets were almost empty; just a few people tending animals or doing a bit of work on the house.

    But music was coming from all directions, from the simplest of happy melodies to the darkest of sombre dirges, as families entertained themselves by singing and playing.

    It was staggeringly beautiful; a real eye opener on the society of the day. So much creative talent, so much effort, put into making happy moments for family and friends.

    "This wouldn't be a terrible place to live, would it?" I said to Daniel. "Not if you were born in these times."

    "I was just thinking the same thing myself," he replied. "Once you've gotten used to having no electricity or decent plumbing, you could really enjoy the life. That's why some of us decide not to go back home."

    I nodded. I had read the files. Several Expeditionary Force members had stayed on, after the job was done, deciding to live in the world they had been sent to, rather than the world they had been born to. I had always assumed that the reason had more to do with personal relationships – who knows where you might find the love of your life – but I was beginning to see that there was more to it than that.

    The people living in such a world may have been held back by the demons, forced to live under near-prehistoric conditions, but that did not stop them being people. Genetically, there was no difference between the people of Bathrel and those of us who lived in our futuristic, advanced, scientific world.

    Even I had expected them to have as little character as they are given in books and movies – that is, practically no character at all; caricatures, at best – but everyone we met was just as 'normal' as anyone at home. They laughed and joked; they enjoyed their food; they took pride in the work they did; they hated arguments; and they thought far too much about sex.

    I suppose it is easy to assume that people who do not have our technology are stupider than we are, but if there were no spacecraft or computers, I very much doubt that I myself could have invented them – nor electric light, algebra, or coffee machines.

    The people of Bathrel had invented none of those things, either, so I was one of them.

    We assume we are smarter than the people of bygone ages only because a few clever people have made our lives easier, but if inventors and innovators had not made the discoveries that allow us to live in the wonderful world we live in, we would have none of our luxuries.

    So much is owed to so few by so many.

    "You're too quiet," said Daniel. "Don't get attached. We've got a job to do."

    "I know, I know. I'm not thinking what you think I'm thinking. It's just that it all makes you think, you know?"

    "Yeah, I do know. But clear your head, for now. That's the house."

    It looked like any other of the houses – taking into account that all the other houses were hand-built by their owners, and so were all different to one another. It had the same 'build what we need now, add more later if we need it then' look.

    "It's not a very strong locus," I said. I was keeping an eye on the satellite data as we circumnavigated the edifice at a reasonably secure distance, for Daniel to physically inspect the surroundings.

    "It ain't what you got, it's what you do with it," said Daniel. "Toughest fight I ever had was with a guy who had almost no energies at all to play with. He got creative; I nearly got fried."

    The house certainly looked innocent enough. We could see firelight flickering out of the gaps around the window shutters, and pale smoke rising from the chimney. There really was nothing to set it apart from the other buildings in the area.

    "Ask me," Daniel said eventually, as we stood in shade, facing the front of the house for the third time, "we oughtta just knock on the door. Introduce ourselves as buyers of curiosities."

    "Say that we had a tip he has something of interest?"

    "Exactly. Keep it friendly."

    "That sounds OK, but I'm going in hot." I held my right forearm in the 'receive' position, and my weapons pack appeared.

    "Yeah. Me, too." Daniel's weapons pack arrived on his arm – not that anyone else but me would have noticed. The packs were camouflaged to look like the bulky armour of the time, even though they were made of high-density synthetics in compound structures. The darts, needle guns, flιchette launchers, and tasers they contained gave us a huge advantage over even the best fighters the primitive world could offer.

    And, if things got tough, we could bring our heavier armour and weapons down. Theoretically, the two of us could take on an army, when fully kitted out.

    ... But that was not a theory that I was too incredibly eager to test out in practice.

    Daniel took up one of the standard covering positions – facing the opening side of the door, diagonally across my direct line of approach, so that he would be able to see the inside of the house as the door opened.

    I knocked.

    A responsive word, a shuffling sound, and a 'clack', as the door opened, revealing an old man.

    "Oh, hello!" I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could. "This is Daniel, and?"

    "You are they. Enter." Opening the door wide, the old man stood aside to let us pass.

    I glanced at Daniel. Scowling, he nodded, so I stepped in through the doorway.

    "Please remove your swords, and sit," said the old man, indicating a hide-covered bench for us, then himself sitting in a wooden armchair that faced us across a low table.

    We removed our primitive weaponry as he asked, not wishing to seem discourteous, and sat.

    As we moved into and across the room, I noted that Daniel was following the old man's movements, innocuously keeping his weapons pack trained on him.

    That was a good idea. Well worth stealing.

    "Will you drink with me?" The man waved at a wineskin and three hand-crafted, wooden goblets, standing ready on the table between us. Daniel bristled. Why three goblets?

    We immediately knew that we were on the back foot. The old man obviously knew something of who we were and why we were there, and had been expecting us. Either the town's grapevine was more sophisticated and better organised than we had thought, or he had used his magic to trace us.

    "Thank you, I will," I said, opening my shoulders and moving my left upper arm slightly away from my body, to receive a toxins medpac.

    He poured three drinks from the wineskin, and waved for us to select goblets.

    Daniel sat rigidly, scowling at the old man. Whether he was genuinely not happy, or simply acting not happy, I could not tell. Daniel is a natural role-player, and falls almost automatically into displaying the appropriate mood for a situation.

    "Who are you, Grandfather," he growled, "and how is it you were expecting us?"

    "I? I am Stock." The old man looked puzzled. "Why did you come here, if you didn't know who I am?"

    Stock was still alive, and living in the town?

    "We are collectors of curiosities." I stuck to our hastily constructed cover story, even though I realised it was probably pointless. "We heard—"

    "Oh, don't talk rubbish!" He silenced me with a wave of his hand. "You're here to kill Baret, and I'm going to help you."

    "What, so that you can take power again?" Daniel sneered, making sure that Stock knew that we knew who he was. "Why should we replace him with you?"

    "You won't. I no longer desire the power nor the solitude it brings. I am happy with my life here, living among the good people who saved me, and who provide for me out of the charity in their hearts."

    "If you're as happy as you say, then why help us?" I asked. "Why disrupt the status quo?"

    "I am not so old that I cannot desire revenge," he told me, his look turning black. "Baret showed me unimaginable cruelty, before the townspeople begged him to release me, and even now he treats me like a slave."

    "Humph." Daniel changed his posture. His arm was no longer pointed at Stock. I leaned forward, elbows on knees, surreptitiously training my weapons pack on him.

    "A slave?" I asked. "In what way?"

    "You still have crystals, don't you?" Daniel asked, matter-of-factly.

    "Yes," Stock replied. "It is the least of them, and takes much effort to use. The bastard laughed, as he tossed it to my feet, telling me to maintain this oasis in the desert. If I do not pray for hours every day, the sands will overrun the town, and the lives of all here will be ruined. He could achieve the same end with but a blink of his eyes."

    "Why don't you just leave?" I asked, pushing for more solid affirmation of his apparently benevolent stance. "You could use the crystal to hide from Baret."

    His immediate reaction was anger, going by his body language, but he held his tongue, and remained silent for a long moment.

    "The only time," he spoke slowly and quietly, "I have ever known the kindness of others is here, from these people, after Baret cast me down from my tower of cloud and fancy. I cannot abandon them to his cruel mercies."

    I looked at my drink. Neither Daniel nor I had yet taken so much as a sip.

    Beard the lion...

    I picked up the goblet and took a healthy mouthful, the hairs on my arm standing on end as I nervously 'listened' for alarm vibrations from the medpac.

    None came. The drink was clean. It was actually a quite drinkable vegetable wine.

    "Hmm," I said, holding my goblet slightly forward. "This is good."

    "Thank you." Stock seemed relieved that I had taken that step. "It is my contribution to the community. I cannot do much, with these old arms, but I can watch a must ferment."

    "Supposing we take you at your word," Daniel took a deep draught from his own goblet, "what can you do for us? It's obvious you're no warrior, and we don't want magic backing us up; it's too unreliable."

    Stock said nothing, but reached down to open the small coffer that lay beside his seat, and drew out a stack of wax tablets. He placed them on the table.

    "These are pictorial representations of the floors of the tower. They are as accurate as we could make them. The changes made by Baret have been added."

    "We?" I frowned. Had he let that slip by accident, or had his intent been to confirm to us that he was not working alone? "There are others who know of us?"

    "Yes, I myself have not been inside the tower for eight years, so I needed help from those who have."

    "How many people are involved?" asked Daniel, "and how do we know that the damned wizard doesn't already know we're here?"

    "You can trust us," Stock said solemnly. "Many have suffered, under Baret's rule; they would not betray us. Giott, the owner of the tavern where you are staying, is one of us. He sees and hears all."

    "The barkeep?"

    "Yes. All stories and news find his ear."

    This was a serious complication. I thought it better that Daniel and I discuss matters privately, before trusting in Stock and his little resistance movement too much.

    "You've given us a lot to think about," I said. "So I believe it's best that we come back tomorrow, to discuss details."

    "I agree," said Daniel. "We weren't expecting this, and we need to talk it over."

    "Of course." Stock carefully placed the wax tablets back in the coffer. "I shall inform no-one of your visit, until you are ready."

    "Thank you for your hospitality," I said, and we collected our swords and left.

    Despite his outward reaction to Stock's revelations, Daniel was happier with the developments than I was – he took such things in his stride more easily than I did.

    "Getting people on your side is half the job," he said. "You know that."

    "Yes, but this is only a small side-mission – a distraction, almost. We don't need to build up a following here; we just need to shut Baret down, and get back to the city."

    "It's the same thing," he told me. "I've been worried about hitting problems from the townspeople. It's obvious that a lot of them are happy with Baret. If we can count on some of the others to run interference for us, it can only do us good."

    "I suppose," I sighed. "But I can't say that I'm convinced. His floor plans will come in handy, though. At least we won't get lost."

    "Yeah, we'll have to scan them in, so we can access them while we're on the job."

    "OK, so we'll accept his – their – help; but what happens if we have to rain down death and destruction on the town?"

    Daniel shrugged. "That's life," he said. "We have to think of the needs of whole world, rather than the needs of the few."

    So it was during our third morning in Bathrel, after having spent the previous day in discussions with Stock, that we finally decided we were ready to mount our assault.

    The rest of the day was spent on preparations.

    The plan was a simple one: Create a diversion, to get Baret out of the way; hit the tower hard and fast, destroy the crystals and whatever long-leggedy beasties we ran across; then deal with Baret, by whatever means necessary, on his return.

    Easy peasy.

    I had forgotten just how hot it was, out in the desert.

    The second we passed beyond the line that encircled the 'oasis', the Sun hammered down on us like a kinetic force, sucking the coolness out of our lungs, replacing it with the dry, searing desert air.

    What made it all the worse was the need to conserve our armour's power. We did not want to run out of juice half way through the incursion into the tower, so our temperature regulators were set on the numerical equivalent of 'Low'.

    "God!" I exclaimed, knocked blind and breathless by the sudden aridity, my eyes tearing to compensate. "I don't remember it being this hot!"

    "Yeah. Old Stock's doing a fine job, keeping the town liveable," Daniel replied. "Amazing how quick you get used to it. It's great having all that sun, but without the heat."

    We rode a little way beyond a ridge on the far side of the town from our lodgings. The heat really was oppressive, and there was no shade anywhere for us to take even a few moments' respite. It was hard for me to believe that we had ridden our motorless beasts through that inferno for so long, only a few days earlier.

    Speaking of motorless beasts, my thighs felt awful, against the saddle. They were still sore from our long ride, and the sweat made them even more itchy and uncomfortable.

    Having found a suitably flat and solid patch, Daniel called down the projector's base panel, and set it firmly in the sand, using long pitons as stakes; then he activated its constructor unit, and we watched as the rest of the projector built itself up out of sections that were small enough to teleport.

    The energy cost of teleportation increases almost exponentially, relative to the mass that has to be transferred; so it is a lot cheaper, in terms power consumption, to transmit several smaller objects, rather than one big one. And there was also a lot less chance of things going wrong, with smaller payloads.

    It was quite fun to watch the projector develop. It was like watching a stop-frame film of its being built by people who were never in the frame when the pictures were taken.

    "Done," Daniel said when it stood complete before us. "I'll check the image bank, and pick something not too threatening. You take the remote, and enter the sand."

    "OK."

    I detached one of the spy-eyes, and walked around the area, filming the layout of the land, then spent a few more minutes throwing handsful of sand around in front of the eye, so that the projector could get the colour and texture right, when simulating it.

    "Got enough?" Daniel strode over toward the horses.

    "I think so," I replied. "I'll just run a quick small-scale test, to make sure."

    I clicked the eye back into its socket, and crouched to start the test.

    A gusher of sand leapt from the ground at me, with horrific speed. Shocked, I threw myself backward, sprawling on the ground – laughing almost immediately, as I realised what I had done.

    "Looks good enough to me!" Daniel chuckled.

    "I nearly had a bloody heart attack!" I laughed. "Maybe I should have gone for a less vigorous simulation!"

    "Hey, if it can convince you it's real, it'll work in spades on the locals."

    "Well, there's that to be said for it." I stood and dusted myself off. "So, it's back to town, then."

    "Yep."

    "Good. I need to replace some of the fluids that have been pouring out of me."

    "Nothing alcoholic," Daniel commented.

    "Bloody right – although I could certainly do with a tot or two, to steady my poor, traumatised nerves."

    We opted for food – a last meal, so to speak, before the battle.

    Giott, the barkeep, gave us a knowing nod. "Anything you want, Gentlemen, it's on the house."

    I was a little taken aback by his not-so-subtle change in attitude. He had been affable enough before we had met up with Stock, but now he acted closer – like an ally, or a confidant.

    "Thank you," I said, looking far behind his eyes, and seeing nothing bad there. "I'll take whatever you recommend. You've done us proud, so far."

    "Yeah," said Daniel, whom I noted was also studying Giott's change in behaviour. "You've been a fine host. I hope we can repay your kindness."

    "It has been my pleasure to serve you, Sirs. The wife has made a good rambrol. It could be a little spicier, for my tastes, but it has a good flavour."

    I shrugged amiably at Daniel, not knowing what the Hell a rambrol was, then turned back to Giott. "Excellent," I said. "Two bowls, then, if you please."

    "And, em," Daniel added, looking straight at Giott. "The weather looks like it might change, tonight. Best stay indoors."

    The poor man looked ready to burst with restrained emotion.

    "Thank you! Thank you, kind sir! I shall tell the wife to choose another night to go visiting." And off he went.

    I gave Daniel a stern look.

    "Yeah, well..." he grinned. "I can't help it; I like the guy!"

    "After all the bollockings you've given me about getting too attached..!" I protested, exasperated.

    "That doesn't mean I'm not human. And you like him, too! He's a good, honest, hard-working guy; it's hard not to like a guy like that."

    "Oh, surely, but the manual—"

    "... 'Surely'? You antiques really still say that? And what's a 'bollocking', when it's out of the office?"

    "Don't, no, don't even think about trying to change the subject! It's your turn on the carpet!"

    Daniel cracked up, laughing.

    "'On the carpet'!" he guffawed. "I don't got a clue what you're talking about! What, are we gonna cut a rug?"

    "I'll cut something, if you don't cut that out!"

    "Hey, there's no need to get snippy!" Daniel grinned broadly – an evil glint in his eye, as he declared war. Silly accent or not, he could fence as well with words as with a sword, when the mood took him.

    "Well," I prevaricated, giving myself time to think, "the way you hack my language apart with your, em, less-than-incisive comments gives me a sharp pain."

    "It's just a slice of life that's new to me, is all," he countered. "I like to dissect new things, so I can get my teeth into 'em better."

    "Humph. Once in a while, it's not too bad; but you do it several times a day."

    "Sever-al?" Daniel grimaced. "Ouch!"

    "It counts. Play or forfeit."

    "Fine. I suppose we shouldn't discount your feeble efforts."

    "It's not for you to dichotomise the words in play."

    "Dichotomize? Jeeze, I'm being given the chop by an intellectual! I'll end up covered with cicatrixes!"

    "Cicatrices, surely? But if you can't handle the occasional slash, you should keep your sword in its scabbard – Bugger! Is 'slash' repetition?"

    "Nope. I was just about to use it myself, but you've excised that possibility!"

    ... And so it went, all the way through the rambrol, which was not fish.

    It really is amazing, what two perfectly sane, normal people will do for entertainment, when they don't have three-hundred channels of TV to keep them occupied.

    Night fell, with the finality that only a desert can instil.

    The incursion on the Tower of Blood was to be my first direct conflict against demon powers. To say that I was somewhat apprehensive would be something of an understatement.

    I had run diagnostics on every item of my equipment at least six times, and had checked that the satellite's reload functions were working nominally only once less.

    Best check them again, to be sure, I thought.

    So I did.

    The fireworks started just forty minutes after the sun had gone from the horizon.

    It was very impressive.

    A mighty roar, loud enough to raise the dead from their slumber, rattled the windows of the town.

    A few minutes later – long enough to ensure that everyone was watching, either from the streets or through cracks in shutters – huge surges of sand erupted from a hundred yards to the west of where Daniel and I had set up the projector.

    Then the coup de gras: A dragon – an enormous dragon – an enormous wounded dragon – rose above the dunes, spitting hellfire and howling in pain and frustration.

    "To arms!" shouted Daniel, and we rushed back into our room, to don the cumbersome plate armour and collect our antique weapons.

    Of course, we had no intention of going out into the desert to face the faux dragon, but we had to keep up the appearance of being travelling warriors, who would see the dragon as a prize to be won. The meat and pelt from such a beast would be worth a small fortune, because of its rarity, and that was not to mention the riches that potion makers would exchange for its bones and horns.

    We strode through the streets, shouting to the people to take refuge, and struck out directly across the no-man's land in the centre of town – ostensibly toward the dragon, but our real destination was the tower.

    Eight people were outside the tower's main entrance, dressed in servants' clothing, and standing in ragged lines, either side of the portal, like an honour guard for some distinguished button-polisher.

    A slender man in a black cape appeared through the doorway.

    "That'll be our man, coming out," Daniel huffed, as we neared the tower, our course taking us past it on the west side. "Best slow down a tad, or he'll miss us."

    We marched on, clanking our equipment as much as possible, so that we would be noticed.

    Sure enough, we were.

    "You men!" One of Baret's attendants ran up to us. "The master bids you speak with him."

    "We have work to do, and a prize to win!" Daniel snapped back at him. "We've no time for talking!"

    "You would be wise to give a few moments of your time."

    "A few moments only, then," I said. "We're not going to waste a chance like this; that beast won't wait on us forever."

    "Please, follow me."

    We followed.

    Baret was an imposing enough character, in person. Charismatic. His demeanour exuded confidence, and his eyes half smiled, as though he were privy to some private joke.

    I was tempted to let fly with a few explosive flιchettes, try to take him out with a blaze of glory, but he was girded to fight a dragon; better to destroy his power source, first, then blow on him to knock him down.

    He did not bother with pleasantries.

    "I have need of a pet," he said, as soon as we were close enough. He waved an arm in the direction of the projected dragon. "The poor thing is already hurt; I don't want you to damage her further."

    "Damage!" Daniel guffawed. "We'll flay the meat from its bones! We can live off the takings for a year!"

    Baret raised an eyebrow, frowning.

    "No, that won't do at all," he said.

    "Well, with all respect, you've no right to keep us from such a prize!"

    Baret rubbed his chin. He was still frowning, but did not look particularly hostile. I decided to negotiate. If I could talk him into allowing us access to the tower, it would save our having to sneak in.

    "Forgive my friend," I said. "He grows old, and his teeth pain him. But he speaks the truth: The creature means wealth to us – easy times, with no worries over silver. We would need good reason to pass up such an opportunity."

    "Yes, I can see that," Baret replied, "and I have no desire to alienate two men who would so readily face a dragon, when they could prove worthy allies."

    "So the beast is ours!" growled Daniel, perfectly in character, as always. "You'll stand aside."

    "Hmm, no. But I will recompense you." Baret turned to one of his servants. "Madlen, take these men inside, and tend to their needs. I shall return to discuss business with them, once my new pet is tamed."

    With that, he turned and walked away, to collect his imaginary 'pet'.

    "Nicely done," Daniel said to me, in our 'foreign' language. "You're a clever cuss, I'll give you that."

    "Why fight our way in," I said, "when we can slide right through the front door on bullshit?"

    So in through the front door we slid, along with Madlen and the rest of Baret's servants – and we galvanised into action the second the door closed behind us.

    The servants were expecting us to behave as guests, so they were completely off guard. A quick spray of drugged darts left them in a peaceful sleep, which would last until long after Baret's return – until long after we had finished the job.

    "This is almost too easy," I said, as we ran up the stairway. "Let's hope the rest of it goes so well."

    The mighty roar of a war-cry from the doorway to a chamber on the next floor offered to deny that hope.

    The chap who made the noise was massive! He was dressed in little more than a hairy loincloth, a horned helmet, and an empty scabbard, but he was built like a bear.

    His scabbard was empty because he had its contents – a huge, double-edged sword – in his hand. His eyes told of a fierceness that I had never before seen in reality, and his scars told of many hard battles he had fought and survived.

    To the people of the day, he would have been a terrifying and invincible adversary.

    "Got the floor-plans ready?" Daniel asked, popping a taser round into the wild-man, who fell jerkily to the floor, his sword ringing like a bell as it bounced on the stone tiles.

    "Yup." I called up the maps to the first three floors on my wrist-pack.

    "Then let's keep heading up, and see what we can find."

    I was genuinely surprised at how well things had gone. We knew that Baret's ego would have insisted that he go after the dragon, although his wanting to keep it as a pet had been mildly unexpected. He was something of a showman, so we had chosen a dragon scene to give him a perfect chance to show off his powers to the people – but we had made it a wounded dragon to make it less personally threatening, in case he were not confident enough to face a healthy one.

    His inviting us into the tower had been the biggest mistake of his life, though. He was in for a nasty surprise.

    I was still feeling a little apprehensive – there was no way of knowing what devices Baret had guarding his secrets – but seeing a plan actually pan out in the field was greatly encouraging. The doubt and worry I had been feeling, since arriving at the town, were lessening, and the training was all coming back to me with crystal clarity.

    We came across no more servants as we made our way up to the wizard's private quarters. That did not surprise us. Baret had around fifteen attendants, and many of them would not be present in the tower at that time of day.

    We could not take anything for granted, though. We had not expected to run into a wild-man with the sword; there had been no mention of such a warrior in Stock's people's information, so Baret had somehow managed to keep him secret from the spies – although how and where you might hide such a monster of a man, I had no idea.

    The fourth floor – or fifth, by Daniel's counting – was the danger zone. Fewer servants would be allowed so high up the tower, as that was where Baret conducted the primitive experiments that all such wizards dabble in.

    "God," Daniel whispered, as we reached the landing on the fourth floor. "Can you feel it?"

    I felt it. The muscles of my shoulders and back were bristling involuntarily. We were nearing the belly of the beast.

    Consciously aware that my breathing had become more pronounced, I stepped forward gingerly.

    If two people can be said to 'spread out', that was how Daniel and I moved into the chamber-width corridor at the top of the winding stairs.

    That was the training, again: Don't present a grouped target.

    I knew, without looking, that Daniel was covering the area in front of me with his weapons pack, just as I was automatically panning my own arm to and fro across the area that he was moving into.

    The floor tiles were laid in curved bands, becoming broader and darker the further they were from the stairwell, like a coloured, terracotta representation of ripples in a pond.

    Statues of warriors lined the room, with small, lit braziers between them, all the way to the far wall. That was a big no-no. The statues had not been in the intelligence, either.

    "Motion detectors?" I asked. Daniel nodded.

    I called down one of the small units, and planted it so that its sweep covered all of the statues along one wall; Daniel took care of the other side.

    I had studied no end of cases where wizards had used animated statues as passive sentries, which would suddenly come to life and attack intruders. The motion detectors would give a loud warning at even the slightest movement of one of the stony sentinels.

    I pressed a button on my weapons pack, instructing the satellite to load one of my flιchette throwers with explosive rounds. Daniel would have done the same. Stone may be proof against swords, but not against high explosives.

    We advanced slowly, tentatively stepping forward across each 'ripple' in the flooring, toward the large double doors at the far end of the room.

    Nothing happened. We reached the doors without incident. I almost felt let down.

    With me flanking him, weapons at the ready, Daniel pushed the doors open.

    We were faced with a wide-open space, but that was not unexpected. According to the map, the rest of that floor was a single chamber, with pillars dotted about as structural support for the upper tiers of the tower. The stairwell for the fifth floor was directly opposite us, on the far wall – the architecture of the day called for the weight of stone stairwells to be distributed, in such thin-walled buildings.

    Extreme caution was called for, as we entered the chamber. The statue room jutted out into the chamber as the only other room on that floor. This meant that as we moved forward, our backs would be exposed to whatever might be hiding around the corners behind us.

    I looked at Daniel, flicking my eyes toward his rear. He nodded, then indicated himself and pointed diagonally across the chamber. I nodded assent.

    Closing the doors, I crouched in front of them, ready to leap in support if Daniel encountered problems.

    Daniel turned his back to the main chamber, and started slowly stepping backward in the direction he had pointed, so that he could check the area to his side of the statue room.

    "Seems clean," he said, when he had almost reached the curved, outer wall.

    He held his position, while I repeated the process on my side of the chamber.

    "Wait!" Daniel's voice was suddenly tense, and a lot louder than I was ready for. I jerked to full awareness, my ears pricking up for any sound.

    "Problem?" I half whispered.

    "Lost space!" Daniel hissed, his eyes flicking to and fro between the walls and the map display on his wrist. "We've got lost space! The statue room's not that wide!"

    He rushed back to the double doors, threw them open, then backed off again.

    With the doors open, allowing us to see the inside of the room with the statues, it was immediately obvious.

    The outside of the room was about two yards wider – a yard on either side – than it was on the inside.

    "The outer wall's wood; it's not structural," I said.

    "No," agreed Daniel. "Could be a cookie jar. Keep watch; I'm going to blow it open."

    I saw him call down a shaped charge, then advance on the outer flanking wall of the statue room – out of my field of vision!

    That was wrong! I had screwed up! I had known what he was going to do, where he was going to move to, but I had failed to provide him cover!

    I rushed over to the right position, on Daniel's side of the room.

    Too late!

    I saw a hundred little hidden hatches in the wall open – so fast! – and they— Spiders! Big spiders! Big as your hand! They leapt from their niches and swarmed over Daniel.

    "Full armour!" I shouted, bringing my weapons pack to bear on him.

    It refused to fire! For almost a full second, it refused to fire! It was the most terrifying and fearful second of my life, as I could do no more than stand and watch those awful creatures envelop my friend and mentor!

    But the safety interlock finally released, as Daniel's armour coverage completed, and I let fly with everything in my arsenal.

    The one flιchette thrower was still loaded with explosive payloads, which bounced Daniel around the room a little, but caused absolute devastation to the monsters attacking him. Slime and ichor splattered the walls, and spindly, hair-covered legs seemed to be everywhere, jerking and twitching.

    "Jesus Christ!" I heard Daniel gasp. "Jesus Christ!"

    He was trembling visibly as he climbed to his feet, slipping on the stone dust and sickening remains of the ghastly creatures.

    His medpac was beeping.

    Medpacs only give an audible alert if their wearer is incapacitated – but Daniel was upright, with nothing apparently broken, and only seemed to be shaken up. So why was the medpac panicking?

    "Are... Are you OK?" I stepped toward him with one eye on the other side of the room, in case more of the horrible defenders came from the other lost space.

    "I... No... Yes... I think so," he sputtered. "Just shook up. Christ, I hate bugs! Good work. Worth a few bruises, to get the little bastards off me."

    "Venom treatment required," his medpac announced. That was bad. A standard medpac could handle most poisons.

    "Daniel!" I barked. "Stay still! Centre! Did they bite you?"

    Forgetting everything else, I ran the last two paces to him, calling down a venom-specific medpac as I went.

    "I... My hand, yes... Burns a little." He dropped to his knee, his head and shoulders starting to sag.

    I ripped the medpac from his arm, and replaced it with the specialist unit, tapping buttons on it to activate the visual readouts.

    "Oh Christ," I whispered. The device lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh Christ!"

    The medpac had no idea how to handle the spiders' venom; it was leaping through impossible hoops just to keep him alive. I grabbed up the discarded medpac and clipped it onto his other arm, tapping the buttons that would make the two units network with each other.

    "We... I have to get you out of here!"

    I hit the emergency retrieve button for the shuttle; it would be with us in minutes, needing more time to speed up and slow down than for the trip.

    I had to get Daniel away from the tower, preferably out of the town altogether, before it arrived – Never Allow Local Spell-Casters Near a Shuttle!

    I pulled Daniel up and threw him over my shoulder with much less effort than it would normally take. Our armour buzzed complaints where it made contact, but there was no way in the world was I going to deactivate either unit.

    I ran, Daniel hardly being a burden, through the statuary to the other door, just in time to see the half naked warrior appear at the bottom of the stairs.

    His constitution must have been like iron, for him to have shaken off the effects of the taser so quickly.

    "Stand aside!" I shouted. "Get out of my way!"

    I tried to struggle my weapons pack around for a clear shot, but I had Daniel over the wrong shoulder – another screw-up!

    The fighter could not do us any harm, with our armour being on full, but he could slow me down, and I had no way of knowing how much time the shuttle would give me, so I could not afford the time to deal with the warrior the hard way.

    Daniel's muscles started jerking violently, as the toxin began to overpower the medpacs and send him into spasm. I was left with no choices. It was my fault that Daniel had been so badly injured, and he would die if he did not receive more comprehensive treatment immediately.

    Slapping my wrist-pack for verbal input, I shouted the Expeditionary Force's most feared command:

    "Computer! Emergency transport! Now!"

    As the highly repulsive feeling of being dissected into a billion pieces showered over me, I saw the warrior rushing up to us, hands reaching for my throat—