PBEM Game: Yarnspinners 2 (Running)

[puffyn]

Oooh, turn 9 already. How time does fly. This time in Yarnspinners 1, it was just me and Karacan and this odd new person named Sedna whose idea of a good post went something like this:

"I believe I've come up with a winning business plan:
Step 1: Prophet
Step 2: ???
Step 3: Rule the world"

YS1: Turn 9

[puffyn]

And on to the good stuff...

---
C'tis, Turn 9

The late summer sun beat down as the lizards crossed the parched plains. Ruli couldn't imagine finer weather for a hike. Many kinds of lizards lived in the kingdom of C'tis – Ash'embe and the others were children of the damp swamps, and clearly unhappy with the dryness of the air – but Ruli was a desert lizard. And the plains were almost desert, this time of year.

Especially with the recent drought. Nothing green, and almost nothing brown, could be seen on the horizon, the only relief being here and there an interesting rock formation. They were walking on an ancient lava bed, Cole said one night at camp. "A very long time ago," the dragon had told them, "the Rim Mount used to glow for miles with molten rock." Ruli thought his use of such archaic units something of an affectation.

"Was... was... was the mountain killed by the frost giants?" asked one of the troops, a timid little fellow whose name Ruli really ought to remember. Clearly he at least had been listening to Laph's yarn.

"No", said Cole. "It was dead long before then. Even mountains grow old and die," he said, almost wistfully. "But we may find something interesting if we pick through its bones."

A few of the little swamp guards swiveled their heads around to look, nervously, at Ruli. Cole had been teasing him like this ever since the incident with the mouse, which for some reason he thought was highly amusing. Everyone else thought it was one more reason to be wary of the weird winter egg.

---

They had paused by a dry riverbed to rest. Ruli wandered off to explore. Smaller than most lizards in his cohort, he'd been pleased to discover he could easily keep up with and outlast these specially trained, elite lizards (except for Ash'embe, who was always running ahead, trying futilely to keep up with Cole). Of course, I'm not carrying a full suit of armor and a falchion like everyone else on this "camping trip", thought Ruli.

He wandered up the river bed, to a place where dead bushes lined the shore. How long has this river been gone? he wondered. A season? A year? A hundred years? Plants decayed quickly when they died, he knew, but it was hard to shake the feeling that these skeletal bushes had been there for aeons. He looked at the shriveled bark on the stubby trunks, the thin brittle tendrils that must have once held leaves, and fed and sheltered small creatures like... mice. There, in a mat of dried grass and twigs, a small nest. He counted three, no, four little mouse skeletons curled up in the nest, huddled desperately against the cold. They had failed; now they were only bones.

It was enough.

Ruli thought back to something Great Grandfather had said, during his brief apprenticeship. Lugal-zagesi was an ancient shriveled lizard who had journeyed to C'tis from somewhere very far away. There were other lizard nests on this world, of course, small enclaves surrounded by warmlings, but Great Grandfather had come from much further away. Lizards lived on thousands of different worlds, scattered across the galaxy, and it was not uncommon for some few to travel far from their home nest, the way Aetonyx had. But Great Grandfather never spoke of his travels, and the young lizards could only guess how he'd gotten all his scars. Rumor had it he had lost his tail four times...

"I really only know about living things," Great-Grandfather had said. "Some people say, when a thing dies, it's gone. But I've seen enough death... as long as there's something left – leaves, a tooth, bones – it's not really dead." When Ruli had asked him to elaborate, he had claimed ignorance, declared his joints were bothering him, and given Ruli a dozen musty books to look through. Most of them were in indecipherable scripts.

But one book... Ruli dredged up the memory. Yes, that was it, arrange them like so, mumble this... He closed his eyes, searching, reached out...


It was the most bizarre thing Ash'embe had seen in his entire life. They were all ready to march, until Cole had suggested that someone really ought to fetch Ruli, and then he'd looked right at Ash'embe. If Ruli were so bloody clever, he'd know not to disappear when we're about to leave, he'd thought to himself. But he wouldn't dream of refusing a request from Cole. Just last night, the dragon had confided in them that there was an outpost of men up ahead, stealing something that was rightfully his, and that they should... how had he put it? "We must be prepared for any eventuality." Ash'embe wished he could get his voice to sound like that.

So then he'd asked around, and little Zu, who Ash'embe privately thought shouldn't be there, too weak, always asking questions – just like another annoying lizard, come to think of it – had piped up that he'd watched the winter-egg go up the dry river bed. As usual, this made no sense: if there'd been water in it, of course, Ash'embe would gladly have gone to the water's edge, anything to be damp again. But who cares about a dry river? Nothing there but a bunch of rocks.

And then he'd seen the mouse. It was dancing, its skull bobbling on its bony limbs, its tail bones swaying despite the complete lack of breeze. A tiny little voice in Ash'embe's head admired the artistry, the way the joints fit together, the way Ruli was keeping it under control. The loud voice in Ash'embe's throat said, "What the scale-leaver's-feather do you think you're doing?"

The winter-egg startled, broke concentration, and the mouse fell to the ground, just a bunch of bones again. "We're leaving," said Ash'embe, as icily as he could manage in the thirty-degree heat, and strode off while the winter-egg sputtered something behind him. We're late, and Cole's going to be upset, thought Ash'embe, because Ruli was playing with a dead mouse. No wonder the guy gave him the creeps.

---

They reached the foothills an hour before dark. Cole had refrained from darting ahead, though it pained him to be so close and not swoop in; but it wouldn't do to let them know he was coming. He forced himself to trudge at the slow speed of the small lizards. They mean well, he thought. But what I wouldn't give to have Dagda or Alagon along... At least young Arruli was shaping up nicely. Cole was pleased that he had figured out how to work with skeletons without the aid of a mentor. He would have to arrange for some better lessons, to see what the hatchling was capable of. After they dispensed with the current interlopers, of course.

He could almost smell it, from here. The sound of hammers and carts and other man-noise came to him, and he signaled to Ash'embe to move his troops into position. The miners were completely surprised by the attack, though they fought back bravely, with their picks and shovels and a few swords. Cole noted with some sadness that the little questioning lizard, Zu, had gotten disoriented in battle, run straight toward the men, and been stabbed through. Ruli, who had looked a little shocked at the sudden onset of violence, was the only group healer, and rushed up to Zu's body. Then Cole flew out from where he'd been hiding, drew his wings out to their full length, and breathed fire onto the closest group of warmlings. They made pleasant crackling noises as they burnt up. He breathed on another group, and smiled thinly at the growing terror in their eyes. That's what you get for disturbing dragon hordes. The Rim Mountain stash of volcano-gold had always been one of his favorites.

The battle was over quickly; the warmling miners were no match for swamp guards, even if they were only children, nor the enraged fire of a dragon with a cause. Cole noticed with some interest that what finally got the men to turn and run was not so much that they were being cut down by Ash'embe's forces, but that the corpse of the small lizard Zu, the only lizard to fall, had gotten up, and was marching toward their lines with a purposeful stride he'd never had in life. Ruli's eyes blazed as he watched the dead lizard march down his murderers.

That went well, thought Cole. There was a cave in the next mountain range over, where an elderly dragon had lived long ago, fondly carving his gem garden until the chasm walls gleamed with a thousand glittering roses. The old dragon had long since disappeared, and nobody else had dared move in so close to Cole's dominion. Perhaps it would be time to pay the mountains a visit. Cole was very fond of roses.

[PashaDawg]

Wow! Time does fly. Well, I finally took the time to write my yarn for Turn 6. I guess I better get cracking on Turn 9 tomorrow!

[djo]

Here it is, another long one: Vanheim turn 9:


In which Pherios writes home, and Quellian Ji speaks up.


Vethru

"Is this report accurate?" asks Rilia. She's one of the sharper minds on the Konella Koreia in the area of foreign policy. They don't listen to her much. Apparently one of her ancestors pissed off one of their ancestors.

"As far as I can tell," I say. The diplomats we sent to Man were old school. Very loyal, very trustworthy. And certainly lacking the imagination to come up with what she's just read.

"Wow. What are we going to do?"

"Figure out what this Selena is. Stupid, psycho, or just very, very green."

"Some of the Jarls will want you to take back Stone Grave Mountain."

"Back?" I say.

She smiles. "In a historical sense."

I snort. They have no idea of what historical really means. Historical doesn't mean, my grandfather lived here. It doesn't even mean, my great-great-grandfather's ancestors lived here. Because after a few thousand years, anyone, everyone can say that. People are like water; you can try to dam them up, but they're going to burst out and wash over everything until you can't tell the difference between rivers, lakes, and streams. My land, my ***.

As for me, the only use I have for real estate is to sell it. I mean, who wants to deal with tenants, anyway?

I suppose I should be tolerant; until I arrived, the Vans believed they had the monopoly on long memories. "Has she taken Copos?"

"Not as far as we know. Is it important to us?" she asks.

She's smooth. She manages to ask me, indirectly, just what are you after, while hiding it in a reasonable question about foreign policy. No wonder she's a diplomat.

"Let's keep her off balance," I say. "Let's be nice. She threatens war, so we'll send her gifts. Find her some nice jewelry, and a couple of paintings. And throw in one of those sapphires we've been mining. She'll like that."

"Right away," Rilia says. "And why don't we send a higher ranking party? Old Emeikos says he won't go back to Man anyway."

"Good idea. Let's send a woman. Do we have anyone from Alteion with some tact?"

"How about Mirima? She's awfully hard not to like, and she's pretty shrewd."

"OK. Put a couple Valkyries in her guard, too. And make sure a description of Selena gets to Pherios and his crew. She's going to be in our future, one way or another."

After Rilia leaves, I talk to Ji.

"Your sources know where this 'Ralph' is?"

"I can put a letter on his desk, boss."

"Good." I get out some paper and a quill.

Ji asks, "Is she right? Does she have blessed, invisible wardens? Because I swear, I can't find the Vans when they're on maneuvers, and if the wardens are anything like that, we're in trouble!"

"No. She's overconfident. She has wardens, but the Vans are better. They're quieter than wardens out in the field, and in friendly territory, they're impossibly good." I think a minute. Could she be that uninformed? Maybe she is just inexperienced. I finish my note to Ralph with that in mind. "It'd be an unpleasant war. No front lines. Guerilla attacks everywhere."

"Ick," says Ji. "With our upstanding, straight-arrow Vans? We are in trouble."

"Not at all," I say. "I've been reading their history. You'd be surprised what they've done in the past. And the others, you've seen them. No, dirty war suits us. You'll see. Operation Maros Gallupeidi kicks off next month."

"Maros Galliwhatia? What's that mean?"

I smile. " 'You have something I want.' "


Pherios


We separated. She stepped back, and I slowly let go of her hands. "Be careful," I said.

"I will," she replied. "Don't worry. I'll see you in a couple days."

After the door closed, and my heart slowed, I sat down to write.



Dear Mom,

Think you very much for the package. Winter has arrived, and the socks and scarf are already keeping me warmer. The cookies arrived in good shape. Sometimes I'm so busy they are all I have time to eat!

I'm sorry I haven't written sooner, but sometimes it seems that even though I'm very busy, there is nothing interesting to say. But this time I have news. I've met someone. Her name is Galameteia of Lunetellerion. I think you know her mother, Thumesteia. I first met Galameteia last month...



She stood up when I walked in. It was her. It was obviously her--I had only seen her once, from a distance, but I would recognize her anywhere. She stood right before me, in the little turret where I study, and the only thing I could say was, "Oh!"

"Pherios of Alteion?" she asked. The uncertainty felt out of place in her voice. She was a beautiful Valkyrie, proud, poised.

"You're here! I've been looking for you."

"Me? But I've been looking for you. Of course--you're a seer. But...if you're a seer, why are you surprised to see me?"

It wouldn't be the last time her quick intellect would trip me up. "Because...because...well, how did you know where to find me?" I asked her.

"Vethru sent me. I'm Galameteia of Lunetellerion, of Vethru's Black Wings."

Then she explained. Recently, whenever she painted, her mind was filled with images that she was compelled to put on canvas. Strange, alien images that she couldn't believe came from within her. At first, she put up with it, even welcomed it.

"I thought I was becoming inspired," Galameteia said. "Artists are supposed to have a unique vision, aren't they?"

But the visions invaded her dreams, and then her waking hours. She found the only way to banish them was to capture them in oil. So she did, flying with the army by night, painting by day. It was working, until one day, when hearing about the battle at Namor, she realized that she had already painted it.

"I couldn't believe it! I thought I had painted something abstract, a fantastic landscape, you know? But when I looked at it again, I knew. It was there, and I painted it weeks beforehand. Everything. I saw the battle, our victory, and the strange desert the Prophet discovered. I couldn't sleep. I didn't sleep for three days, until I told my lieutenant. She brought me to Vethru. And he sent me to you."

So I tried to help her understand what she was seeing, and how to live with it. I told her how I saw omens in the sky since I was young. How confusing I found them, until I learned to study them. "It's been getting worse for me, too. The omens used to come mostly when I looked for them. Now they arrive without warning, while I sleep, while I walk. " I told her that the anxiety ebbed once you understood what you saw. "The vision isn't what you're looking at. It's the impression it makes in your mind. The raven is just a raven, even if I see it flying with seagulls, until something in my mind says, 'Three huskarls will die in battle today.' That's when it becomes an omen. And that's when the vision leaves me alone."

"But then you're left with the knowledge..." she said. I nodded. She understood. Which was worse, frightening images, or dreadful certainty?

I told her why I had been looking for her. "I've seen danger following you. You're out searching for something, and darkness pursues you. You've got to be careful. What are you doing with the army, exactly?"

"I can't tell you," she said. "I'm sorry. Vethru's orders."

She showed me her paintings. I didn't see much information in them, but I didn't expect to. The prophecy would be in her mind. The birds are just birds.

As art, however, they were striking. I had never seen such vivid chaos on the canvas. The colors of one of them reminded me of a storm-tossed sunset. The shapes of another evoked the spring icepack breaking against the rocks in the coves of the gorge.

We reached a swirl of uneven purple that could have been an earthquake seen by moonlight, when her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Wing and spear!"

"What is it?" I suddenly saw the lonely egret soaring before the storm again.

"You," she whispered. "It's you."

From that time, we became hard to separate, each of us fearing for the other's life. It was a strange, awkward relationship at first. Over time, though, we found the company of someone else who understood bound us together more than our fears. Our visions began to trouble us less, and the information we gave to Vethru improved. My uncle said that not a single Van has died in the war.

But her job is dangerous; she flies into the night on missions she can't tell me about. I stay and wait, like tonight. Trying to write to my mother.

I didn't want to burden her with my fears. I didn't think she'd understand, but she would want to try, and it's hard to talk about. So instead I wrote a little more about how I met Galameteia because we both work for Vethru. I wrote that I often see Galameteia when we are both in the city. I told my mother that I like Galameteia very much, and it made me happy, because it was important, and it was true, and I could share it with her. The rest, I left out. I closed the letter by promising to write again soon, and I sealed it and set it aside.

I opened a window to get a better look at the sky. As much as it pained me, I couldn't stop looking for omens. There was a gull sitting on the ledge. I realized it had been there a few minutes. It hadn't flown away when I opened the window. I waited for another moment, then I said, "Well, do you want to come in?"

"I thought you'd never ask," the bird said, and it hopped into my room and fluttered nearer to the fire. "Was that a guess, or did you figure it out?"

"A little of both," I said. "I've seen you before. And not just with Vethru. I saw you in a dream. "

I swore the bird shuddered. "Yeah, that was me, but I didn't write the script. Quellian Ji, at your service," he said, and he gave me a little bird bow. "Hey, kid, I hate to drop in and run off, but I wasn't planning to have this conversation tonight. I was just checking in on your Valkyrie. The boss wanted to make sure she got out on time tonight. "

"You know where she's going?"

"Yeah, I'm going, too. No, I can't tell you where, and boss says, stop asking. He'll tell you in time." Ji looked uncomfortable. "Uh, while I'm here...if you've got a second..."

"What is it?"

The gull's voice softened. "Do you see anything ahead for us? In the next few days? Just between you and me."

I was going to say nothing, but a sudden swirl of wind drew my gaze to the window. It hit me then, hard--it dropped like a stone into my stomach. I swallowed.

"Kid? Are you all right? What do you see?"

"Falling leaves," I said.

[Alneyan]

My own yarn for turn 9 is in... and I am on time for once! Erh... well, I am so late I am one full yarn behind, but don't break the news to me. And I am still not happy with my yarn for turn 9.

On another note, I will be away for two weeks starting soon, so don't expect any yarn from me for a while. I may be able to get my yarn for turn 12 before leaving, but I won't make any promises, given my record of being late, and later still.

[Sedna]

(The obligatory "Turn??" post)

[The_Tauren13]

We are waiting on Pythium, quantum mechani. I wasnt going to force host, though, because some have been saying this has been going to fast anyway...

[Sedna]

I'm okay waiting a little longer for quantum. He hasn't been on the board for the past 3 days, so perhaps real life has intruded? Heh, of course I advocate waiting so that my powerful southern neighbor doesn't miss his turn...

You might also want to award pearls to those who have already written turns 6 and 9. Others are still welcome to write and get their pearls at a later date.

[The_Tauren13]

I believe I already sent pearls for turn 6 yarns.
Turn 9 yarn pearls will be coming with the next turn.

[djo]

Here's turn 12, a little action thing with Vethru. Side note: the battle described did not actually take place, in the game.

Vethru

I have my small ship, but there's no star to steer her by. You pick a cloudy night for what we're up to. I've got an old Van navigating instead. They say he's been sailing the shores of the gorge since he was a boy, twelve hundred years ago. That sounds pretty good, but I heard another Van mumble that it didn't really matter, because that earthquake four hundred and fifty years ago changed all the shoreline, anyway. Either way, between him and me (I'm a damn good navigator myself), we have no trouble finding our way across the gorge to Cimri, at night, in silence. The Vans are good at that, too.

Quellian Ji lands in my boat and says, "Grey team and white team are both in position, boss." I nod to Hallixene, and he gives the order. The men at the oars pick up the pace.

One huskarl stares at the bird. He's new. Another man says, "Yeah, the bird talks." The first man shrugs. They're all veterans. Not much worries them, and they're not much for small talk.

We reach the shore and they have the boats up on the beach, quietly, quickly, as if their ancestors have spent several millennia turning ocean raiding into a high art form, which they have. The only one having trouble is Kor, the dwarf. By the time he's stumbled out of the boat, the scouts from team green are into the forest, and those from team blue are down the beach, keeping an eye on the nearby fishing village.

I'm an old man, and it takes me nearly a half hour to get up the hill to where the temple is. Of course, team green is way ahead of me; there are bodies all around the two buildings on the hill by the time I get there. The first is a modest stepped pyramid. Even in the dim torchlight, I can see bloodstains on its stones. Hallixene tells me our target is the other building.

From the outside, it looks like a wooden stockade, but once inside, I see that the wood is a facade; the building is solid stone. We pass through the main worship area, where the statue of a twelve-foot tall stag stands. In an inner room we go down some stairs, past broken doors and more bodies, before reaching the vault.

There's an unarmed old man standing in front of the door. "Blasphemers! Unholy! He will trample you, and your necks will know His sacred antlers!" His back is pressed to a thick, ornate oaken door. He's pretty feisty for being surrounded by men with sharp steel things pointed at him.

My men part, and he gets a good look at me. "You," the man snarls. "You are an abomination, and He will never suffer you to exist." He gestures, and a bright, searing light flashes. It's painful--very painful--but it's not enough. I step forward, and he says, "You cannot harm me, unholy thing. His blessings will shield me."

"Don't believe everything you read," I say, and I touch him. He cries out in surprise, then he wails in pain. He shrivels until his complexion is worse than mine, then he crumbles into dust and bone. As the echo of his screams fade, even the einhere and huskarls are silent. They have that stunned "and I thought I believe in god's power before" look. I tell Hallixene to take them upstairs to plunder the temple.

"Kor!" I say. "Open up this door!"

He scuttles forward, mumbling. He begins tapping on the door with his hammer. "Skar mar lrr grror ar!" he says.

"Well, I didn't tell you to leave your gauntlets in the boat," I reply.

He grumbles again and makes a great show of limbering up and swinging the hammer, but the door falls at the first blow. Wussy dwarves.

Inside, as you would expect, is little of any real value. Religious types chronically overvalue sacred scriptures and undervalue gold and jewelry. The one area we both agree on is old stuff. I locate the two items I'm looking for. A thick leather-bound book, with five stars on the cover, and a length of dark wood, cut into a long prism, sort of like an obelisk. I like obelisks. On this one is inscribed letters I have not seen in a dozen worlds. I wrap the items in a cloth and tell Kor to grab a few other things to mask what I came for. He's got sense; he grabs what little shiny gold and silver stuff there is.

"Let's move," I say, and we're up the stairs and into the temple proper. "What in Hel are you doing?" I ask, when I see my men gathered around the statue. With ropes.

"We're pulling down the statue, my lord. It is an affront to you," Hallixene says. He looks confused, as if his actions were self-evident.

Worshipers--who can figure them out? I'm trying to steal something, and they think I'm worried about a statue?

But it'd take longer to dissuade them than to convince them to do it quickly. I take a good look at the statue. After you've seen a hundred worlds, the patterns start to look pretty familiar. Standard nature deity. "OK," I say. "This fellow is all about birth and death. His coming in the spring represents fertility, and his death in the autumn represents the harvest. All you need to do is break off his antlers; they represent his manhood. Without them, he is impotent. So do it, and let's get out of here!"

One of them manages to climb up the statue and do the deed without breaking his neck. As he comes down, there are shouts from outside, and I hear animal noises. Howls and roars. And clangs. In what seems like an instant, Hallixene is outside and back in again. "We're cut off," he says. "Men and animals, coming out of the forest to the west. A dozen men, lightly armored, bows and swords. I saw wolves, boars, and bears. "

Outside, there's not much light, but I see my Vans and huskarls fighting woodsman and wildlife. Some of my guys were wounded. More men and animals are coming out of the forest. We're outnumbered, and certainly outmaneuvered.

A female shapes suddenly appears next to me. "Sir, grey two is under attack from the village. They have reinforcements--about twenty light infantry in addition to the village's twenty militia. The einhere are berserking, but they are holding. For now."

"How did they get word?" I wonder.

"Kesselar is missing," she says. "We saw hawks overhead."

"The bastards!" says Ji. Kesselar was one of Ji's lookout ravens.

"Galameteia, right?" She nods. "Tell white team to split: one half should reinforce grey two. Tell the other half to sweep around the other side of town and counterattack to take heat off us. After they counterattack, they should disappear and to make their way back to Vanheim as planned. Deliver those messages, then get right back here." She vanishes into the night.

The fighting is getting closer. We're piling up a lot of livestock, but we're slowly getting pushed back. "Ji! Get a message to blue two. Send a gull, don't go yourself. Tell them to set up an ambush at the edge of the beach. We'll be coming in hot."

"OK, boss."

I hear voices:

"How many of them are there?"

"Take that, bastard!"

"Right flank! We need help!"

"I can't see!"

"Where's Igestus? Where's Igestus?"

Hallixene: "Sir, we're not breaking through! They're turning our flank!"

Sweet limping Vishnu, this went south in a hurry. Hallixene's phantoms are helping, but my men are falling. There's a lot more of them than we expected. I'm going to have to string up some of my intelligence operatives. "Kor! Go throw rocks at them!" I hear grumbling moving off to my right. The dark doesn't bother him.

Galameteia is back. "Stay by me," I tell her. I whistle for Ji. "You wanted to be a general, bird--let's see what your girls can do. Call in team black."

Ji squawks. "The right flank will be toast!"

"No! Hit behind their center--clear the escape route. I've got the flank."

Ji rises into the night, shrieking like a banshee.

"Lord, no!" calls Hallixene. "You can't! Stay back, where we can protect you!"

"Shut up, and do what I tell you! Be ready--hit them hard when team black comes in."

I turn to Galameteia, and I hand her my package. "Get this back to Vanheim."

"But sir, I can carry you, too. I'm strong enough."

"Do it! I don't care if they cut off my head and burn my body. Listen! I will return. I promise you that. A bunch of tree-humping greenies can't keep me in the grave. "

She's uncertain. There's that crazy worshiper thing again. She can't decide whether to obey god or protect him. "Get moving," I say, and I slap her on the ***, because that makes any woman jump. When she jumps, she doesn't come back down.

With my package safe, I turn my attention to the battle. The right flank is collapsing; Kor can't hold back the wildlife pouring out of the forest. I put a couple lightning bolts into two bears, and then I dump some flares into the forest. The woods light up. Suddenly we don't have a problem anymore; we have a barbecue.

Then team black arrives. A hundred years ago, on a distant world, I heard one composer's impression of Valkyries riding to battle. He got it exactly right. They tear through the lightly armored woodsmen who never thought to look up into the night. They die in a hail of javelins, spitted on the spears of my fierce flying girls. It's so beautiful I almost want to cry.

Their line breaks, and we push through. We scramble through the woods, wolves and rangers on our heels. There aren't as many of us as made the trip up the hill. And I hate leaving perfectly good dead bodies behind. The enemy hassles us under the trees, where our airpower can't help us. We burst out onto the beach, and our pursuers are torn apart by the ambush. Neinos has managed a two-pronged attack, blue two and grey two hitting them from opposite directions.

I yell until everyone's scrambling into the boats, because I know there's one thing we haven't seen yet. And right on schedule, the druid comes out of the woods. By himself, he wouldn't be a problem. But the two great horned serpents with him kill my rearguard and slither down the beach toward the boats.

I can see how this is going to play out. I turn to Hallixene and say, "Get everyone in the boats, and set sail. If I see one boat turn around to come back for me, I will make the rest of your life miserable, and then I will make your unnaturally long afterlife extremely miserable." He pales but obeys me.

I walk unsteadily toward the snakes in the shifting sand. The druid knows what's going on. He'll gladly let my men get away for a shot at me. He's even smiling.

I smile back. Then I drop him with a lightning bolt. He wasn't expecting that. The reason is, by casting a spell at him, I give the snakes a chance to bite me. Most people won't make that trade, but I have an unfair advantage. I'm a real bastard that way. I dodge one snake, but the other one gets me in the left forearm and hangs on. That's good; that keeps him in reach. I put my dagger into his eye and stir. He backs away quick. The poison, I don't worry about. I'm past such things. But I'll need to fix my arm later.

The second one comes on again, but by now, I'm playing electric eel. I give him a good shock, and he circles, and he gets ready for another pass. He hesitates, and that's all the time I need. I stand up as straight as I can in the sand and throw my arms in the air.

The snake is mildly surprised when I rise out of his reach. As the Valkyries lift me into the night, Ji flies by, and I say, "Good job."

"Just like we practiced," he says.

"Stay with the boats," I tell him. "Make sure they get back in one piece. Ladies, let's swing by the boat so everyone can see I'm all right. Then it's home to Vanheim."

One of them takes me in her arms so I don't have to dangle by my wrists for the whole flight. "Thank you, Kestumaia, for your assistance," I tell her.

"It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord," she says.

I wonder how much. "You have beautiful eyes," I tell her. I can't tell if she's blushing or not, but that's OK. I've got the whole flight to work on her.