“Only your eastern flank.” Alabow.

A wail went up from the camps. Excited guards ran past Faith and Chic to climb a rudimentary ladder and vie for positions at the top of the fortification. Meanwhile, Uda Con sat under her canopy; her three Generals at her side, and the Grand Stewardess behind. Besh, Marken, and Sposh peeked over the low end of the stack near the exit. Across the flat, Alabow stood from his throne and stepped to the wooden railing.

Uda turned to her Generals. “Leave the catapults in place. Don't move them.” The Generals bowed their heads in concert. Uda's face revealed a devilish smirk. “While the medics run, draw back the buckets and load them with our brave volunteers. When I take the chariot to my station on the flat, I'll make a signal.” She waved her arm above her head. “When you see the signal, set loose the girls.” She chuckled. “When they see it's raining wives, they'll panic. We'll follow with a charge.”

As one, the Generals shouted praise. “Brilliant!”

Uda snapped her fingers, and Holly stepped forward. “My chariot,” she said.

Holly replied, “Yes, my Queen.”

Sposh whispered to his alien accomplices, “All eyes will be on the front lines.”

Besh said, “My part takes me down the north wall. Good luck.”

Sitting in place, Faith and Chic watched the Generals mount their Trimbols and ride out through the southern exit. It was then that the horns ceased to blow. In their place could be heard the snapping thump of catapults unleashed.

Chic looked and said, “This is it.”

The Pope leaned over the railing to watch the catapult aimed at Uda Con's fortification. The load fell short, landing below the scissor adornment, spooking the Queen's trimbol. Cries for mercy came front the front line; Alabow repositioned to watch the medics rush out. The catapults were being manually dragged back when Alabow turned again to the Queen's fortification. What he saw made him gasp. The Queen exited a small door at the corner and ran for her chariot.

“Out of the way!” yelled the Pope. He raced from the viewing stand, scattering Generals in his haste. “I'll be damned if she gets to the judging station before me. ”

Sposh and Marken walked on their toes and held their breaths. They passed a row of tents along the south wall. There before them were Faith and Chic huddled together by an open exit. They crept up to them and peeked out from their cloaks. Faith gasped; Chic looked up.

Sposh fell on his wife with kisses. “Oh, my Chic,” said he.

Faith said to Marken in a hissing whisper, “Don't just show up out of thin air. I nearly had a heart attack.”

Marken whispered, “My love, I've come to your rescue. Let us flee while they are distracted.”

“Oh, my Chic,” said Sposh, kissing his wife.

Chic answered softly, “My Silly Bean, you came.”

Faith said to Marken, “Hard to do in chains.”

“Not a problem,” said Marken, removing the chains in under a minute. “I'm good. Right? Please, now, share my cloak.”

It was tight and uncomfortable in Marken's cloak. She crouched and ran, disregarding the pain in her ankle. Sposh took Chic into his cloak and followed.

“Go,” said Sposh. “We're right behind.”

Besh stopped under the viewing stand. He placed a small timer on the wall and set it for five minutes. Then, he attached a packet of firecrackers to it and moved south. With great stealth, Besh crept to the Queen's tent, placing another packet and timer, setting it at four minutes. He did the same thing beside a rudimentary ladder, setting the timer for three minutes.

The screams were real; the awful smell of Nerfels was in the air. As Besh crept along the east wall; he saw no captives. He would have to trust that matter to Sposh and Marken. He placed a hand over his nose and crept through the exit. To his left, beyond crates, three Trimbols were roped off. Medics ushered screaming soldiers through reforming lines, and the smell was pungent. Besh quickly set a timer for two minutes, turning to check his escape route.

Two chariots raced to the center of the flat. Alabow and Uda whipped their Trimbols for speed. The judging station was a table with two chairs. Seeing the Pope and Queen racing ahead, the judges from both camps raced on foot to reach their posts. The Pope and Queen were close; pulling on the reins. Trimbols snorted in pain as the chariots turned. The Pope jumped from his chariot and ran for his seat. The Queen jumped from her chariot and ran for her seat.

“I was first,” said Uda.

Alabow retorted, “Only your eastern flank. I was first. See. See. The western flank has yet to arrive.”

Uda Con, working the fingers of her right hand, said, “Snip, snip.” She raised her arm, lifted her weight from the chair, and ran to her chariot laughing.

The Pope stood and watched Uda flee. His mouth fell open in confusion. The running judges stopped in their tracks, also confused. As the Queen beat her Trimbol, racing back to the security of her fortification, Alabow smiled to himself. Then, he heard the collective 'whump' of the Queen's catapults. He looked into the sky and lost his smile. It was raining soldiers, swords drawn. Heart racing, the Pope leaped into his chariot and beat a hasty retreat, thinking, Damn that cow! Why didn't I think of that? Armed women were falling into his war machine. The men, stunned, stood gaping. Alabow screamed from his chariot, “Fire, you fools! Fight back!”

Racing to his riser, Alabow looked across the flat to see the enemy charging. He glowered at the Queen in her viewing stand, who turned and mooned him, slapping her flanks. He fell heavily into his throne, then heard his men roar. He jumped back to his feet and leaned over the railing. Yes! His men were charging.

Besh ran openly letting the hood fall back; he wanted speed. A cry arose from the ranks. Besh stopped at the bushes to briefly look back. What he saw was alarming. Twelve soldiers raced after him; one General followed on a Trimbol. Quickly feeling in the pockets of his cloak, he produced the last packet of firecrackers and an Inston lighter. He lit the fuse, threw the packet, and turned to run.

Across the flat, Alabow heard the odd report. Uda turned to the noise of chase and the oddly elongated detonation. There were cries of alarm. Then, Uda jumped when a louder report came from beneath her stand. Alabow looked through his field glasses and saw Uda stumble against her throne. As she righted, Alabow raised his face to the sky and laughed

Besh ran along the edge of the bluff, pulling his hood up. He was pumped with adrenaline, and his heart raced with his legs. The trees were just ahead when he ran into something he didn't see. Besh tumbled over Sposh and Chic, who complained loudly. Faith turned back and stumbled because of her ankle, bringing Marken down with her.

“Get off me,” said Faith to Marken.

“It's not easy,” answered Marken.

Chic cried out, “Sposh. Help.”

Alabow looked through his field glasses. He saw Uda turn to the bluff above her quarter. He saw her jump and stumble a second time, but his eyes were drawn to the bluff. There, half-hidden, the Pope saw his cousin pulling his wife to her feet. He saw the female negotiator batting away alien hands. And he saw the stowaway.

“Bludgeon!” bellowed the Pope, and jumped when Bludgeon answered from behind.

“Bring the Baesunds!” said Alabow. “Take a party to the bluffs and catch my cousin!”

In the trees, they dropped their hoods and ran abreast of one another. A lone horn sounded from the Pope's camp. “What's that?” asked Marken.

Sposh answered, “The hunting horn. Baesunds. They can track us by scent.”

Faith asked Besh, “Are you responsible for the firecrackers?”

“He's a wonder,” said Sposh. “He has a magic bag.”

Marken said, “These cloaks are his. He helped us save the women we love.”

Faith replied stoutly, “Let's put that on a back burner.”

Panting, Besh said, “I may have something. Let's get a little distance and then I'll look.”

Faith said to Marken, “Watch the arm, Romeo.”

Marken answered, “But, we must stay under the cloaks.”

At the peak of the bluff, with the trees behind them, Besh called a halt to search his bag. As Faith leaned in close to watch, she said, “I've been meaning to ask you about that.”

“My girlfriend's purse,” said Besh.

“How does it work?” asked Chic, as close as Faith.

Besh answered, “Dimensional closets.”

He brought his arm out of the bag, and in his right hand were two large vials. Besh stood, drawing the others to their feet. “This will confound all sense of smell,” said Besh. “They have hounds, we have Houndsmackers.” He handed a vial to Marken and one to Sposh, saying, “Start from the edge of the cliff and sprinkle a line until you're out. Whatever you do, don't get a snoot full.”

Bludgeon stopped at the base of the bluff near Uda's fortification. Behind him were three Baesmen struggling to restrain the large slavering beasts at the ends of heavy chains. From the south corner ran the Grand Stewardess with three reluctant soldiers in tow. Their beasts were smaller, females of the species.

“Hold! Enemy!” cried Holly.

Bludgeon replied, “We seek our own, the Pope's guard, and the aliens.”

Stopping at the north corner to glower at Bludgeon, Holly replied, “We seek one of ours, my sister.”

Bludgeon said, “Then let our Baeshunds work together. I go ahead; our beasts are bigger.”

Holly followed Bludgeon uphill, calling after him, “You never change.”

The fugitives ran at a steady pace, north toward Brohm. Faith turned to Besh and asked, “Must we continue to use the cloaks?”

Besh answered, “ We'll close them when we get to the city.”

Faith said, “Surely, the city is abandoned for the war.”

Besh said, “If there are guards at the north gate, we don't want them to see us coming.”

Chic asked, “Can we stop for a change of clothes?”

Besh answered, “You're welcome to stay and take your chances. I'm going to the Regret.”

Chic said in alarm, “The wild animals.”

The Baeshunds wailed. They ran in circles, entwining the handlers in chains. As the handlers fell, the Baeshunds broke free. Soldiers ran into the trees, hands over their noses.

The north wall stretched between horizons, connecting the eastern ocean to the western mountains. Two bored guards stood to either side of tall wooden doors; a crossbar held them fast. Behind Besh, cloaked and uncertain, four souls awaited a call to action. Across from Besh was a stone house, bushes between the building and the wall. Besh took a stone, stood carefully, and hurled it across the way. A noise came from the bushes, alerting the guards. They walked to the bushes to investigate.

“Follow me,” said Besh.

Besh removed the crossbar and ushered his group through the gate. Besh pulled his cloak under his chin, nodding for the group to quietly move north, following a trail to hide behind a copse of trees. Hidden from the sentries, Besh dropped his cloak.

Besh said, “Cloaks, please.”

Farther north, the group crossed a grizzly scene. Besh stopped to view abandoned helmets. Nearby were two spears and bleached bones. Chic shuddered in her husband's embrace. Besh stooped to retrieve the spears, handing one to Sposh and one to Marken. The trek north was pleasantly warm. Having lost a rudimentary trail, the group walked through a landscape Besh found not unlike those on other worlds. It would have been a pleasant walk, were it not for the threat of Woeverns and Bangers. Sposh and Marken led the way, spears forward. Besh followed, quiet and observant. Trailing behind, Faith and Chic bent their heads together in hushed conversation. They were the weak link. Besh turned to them.

He said, “You two should walk behind the spears. For protection.”

A noise in the trees caused them to gasp and hurry to the suggested position. Besh thought as he walked but could not recall any useful weapons in his bag of tricks. In passing a pile of rocks, Besh stooped to take up the largest of them; it was better than nothing. He noticed that Faith and Chic held hands as they walked. Sposh and Marken seemed dutifully diligent.

Marken spoke softly over his shoulder. “My love, stand close. If the monsters rush us, I will protect you with my life.”

Sposh added, “Chic, dearest. I'll not lose you a second time.”

Besh stepped forward, in stride with Marken, and pointed northeast. He said, “Let's rest on that knoll.”

The knoll was steep with three tall wispy trees at the apex. The women fell to the ground with grateful sighs. Sposh sat beside Chic, who leaned against him and closed her eyes. Maken sat close to Faith, who expressed her displeasure in a sigh. She was too tired to move. 

Besh scanned the eastern terrain, seeing only trees and hills. To the west were rolling grassy hills. The way north was a mix of west and east with the best of both, rolling hills, trees, and occasional boulders. Besh was glad he saw no wild beasts; the rock in his hand would surely be insufficient.

Besh sat facing north. He leaned back against the tree and set the rock aside. He looked into the evening sky and thought, clouds are beautiful on any world. He looked west and guessed they had three hours of remaining sunlight. He closed his eyes, then felt motion on both sides. He looked up to find Sposh and Chic kneeling to his left. To his right, Faith seated herself and crossed her legs. Marken stood behind her, scanning the terrain in serious vigil.

Faith leaned close and asked, “I don't suppose you have any food in your magic bag.” 

Besh looked at Sposh and Chic; their wide eyes asked the same of him. It seemed that Besh was no longer the stowaway to Faith and Marken, no longer just a friendly alien to Tappish followers. He was the man with the magic bag; he was a possible source of sustenance and a certain source of direction. Besh had tumbled into the role of leader pro tem.

“I've been trying to remember,” said Besh. “Nothing comes to mind.” He turned to Sposh and said, “Perhaps our resident expert on all things Tappish knows of some edible tubers.” He turned and looked up at Marken, saying, “Perhaps the esteemed engineer can build a trap.”

Faith looked down and shook her head. “I don't know,” she said. “Maybe I still know how to make a campfire.”

“I can help,” said Chic.

“You need wood,” said Besh. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he said, “That's right. I have a hatchet. We'll need to depend on each other. Each of us has something to contribute.” He nodded north, drawing the group's attention. “Maybe, there's a stream ahead. We have about three hours left before dark.”

Sposh nodded, “Yes,” he said. “Just about.”

“Then, let's go,” said Marken. “We will need a defense; someplace high.”

“I don't know about the rest of you,” said Faith, “but I'm thirsty.”

“I need to wash,” said Chic. “At least my face.” Faith agreed with a vigorous nod.

Marken said, “I will build buckets, and bring clean water for all your needs.”

“I can bring my own water,” answered Faith.

Besh stood and the others came to their feet as if he was the leader. He felt embarrassment and cleared his throat, speaking into a deferential silence. “We should hurry. Sposh is roots, Faith and Chic, a campfire, Marken, buckets of water.”