"Mercenary's life were full of surprises. Most are unpleasant", commander Yessarian was mediating on the new problem. She used to diagnose unfamiliar experiences from several directions, before approaching the task. Tackling the current situation from any angle though, only served to darken her mood.

The Half Giantess warrior cowed against the huge Mekillot bone of the large tent frame. Rising four feet above her Half Elven commander, still the huge woman managed to look like a small girl about to receive thrashing.

"Now what by freaking Hamanu's tail were you thinking when you purchased this miserable cunt"? Anger served to emphasize commander Yessarian's sharp features which only made her look more dangerous. "That was a rhetoric question", she said as it appeared like Lissaet was about to comment, "I know damn too well how your little shite of a mind works. I'm running a mercenary troop here not a fucking brothel, though some of you may have a problem distinguishing between the two".

Words like rhetoric or distinguish were far beyond the Half Giantess simple mind, but she didn't have to be a genius in order to tell when Yessarian was really pissed. She kept silent knowing full well that opening her yapper would invite further trouble.

"As for you Mealiay", she turned now looking at her logistics officer making a note to distort the small woman's name (her real name was Melian, Mealiay was a type of a sex disease), "where did you get the brilliant Idea our troop needed another whore, and a male whore above all"?!

Melian if she noticed the offence let it pass, her long acquaintance with Yessarian made her familiar with the woman moods. "Actually I got this Idea from you commander". When Yessarian didn't comment she felt more confident to continue. "Last week when you got that concubine slave as a present from lord Kotler you started some girls talking in the camp". The logistics officer pointed at the lithe youth standing ready at one of the tent corners. "The girls say that since we have female whores in our retinue, we should also have male ones. Unknowingly you caused some unrest receiving that gift".

"That's ridiculous, we have enough male troops around willing to satisfy any such need. More than willing, in fact most wouldn't mind if the hole they are sticking belongs to a woman, a man or the rear end of a Crodlu."

"Nonetheless some girls are saying the commander snobs herself in luxury of a noble, they are saying you don't want to share".

"Let me guess, when you say girls you actually mean a particular girl"?

The logistics officer silence only verified her suspicions.

Yessarian sighed and sat on a decorated field hammock, the only sign of luxury in the Spartan tent. "Uhelah, right? That witch is looking for an edge since the black spine campaign. One day soon she will make the move against me".

The crimson wyvern mercenary legion was run more or less democratically. It didn't meant to say that leaders were chosen by votes, but the chief commander always enjoyed a large support with the captains and the troops. Yessarian knew her people followed her for the last four years on account of her experience and the fact that she proven so far to lead them through several hard campaigns successfully (survival considered a success on harsh Athas).

"It's not as if things were so great of late" she thought. Their last contract was a disaster. They have fulfilled their part to the word, but on payday their employer (A noble of house Ketelatzekla of Draj) had a nasty encounter with a stranglers noose. The assassination wasn't in any way connected to the legion but part of an inner Drajian feud. House Ketelatzekla plunged into an assassinations war which practically wiped it off the face of Athas. Despite her best efforts Yessarian wasn't able to convince, threat or plead with their employers to fulfill their side of the contract. Since their Job was of the security type (the type that doesn't bring loot), all they had to show after an entire season of hard desert fighting were their new scars. No one really knew besides her and Melian how much was left in the dwindling legion's coffers, but the mercenaries didn't need that knowledge to guess the situation was dire. One had only to chew on the smaller food rations distributed.

The botching of the last contract was in no way Yessarian's fault but she didn't delude herself that it mattered, she could hear the grumbling behind her back. Things stood at an edge and might turn anytime against her. Losing an important battle for example, or losing an important contract or even a scheming rival could tip the scales. She would be replaced, and it would matter little that none would have fared better in her shoes. Somehow she will have to neutralize Uhelah and she had to do it quick, the girl was getting bolder.

When she accepted the slim olive skinned youth as a present from lord Kotler, she was not aware it may serve as a weapon in her rival hand to seed further discontent amongst the legion. "Every move I make is assessed, every step I do I have thousand eyes following, waiting for me to stumble". she thought disdainfully.

The commander looked at her officer, this time the anger that was in her eyes a moment ago gone. Melian was the only woman in the legion who actually tried to look like a one, wearing a real dress knitted from expansive Drajian colored hemp, she held her red hair in long braids which she fixed everyday, and never displayed any tendency of imitating the legion's male language or habits (like most of the fighting warrior women). She had no real fighting skills but nonetheless was accepted as a high ranking legion member, her value not to be questioned. "You only wanted to save my stupid arse and I jumped you like a Kierre in heat." Yessarian made a mental note to make her logistics officer know she was sorry, later when there are no other people around.

"So, buying a male pleasure slave would shut up some yawpers"? she wasn't shouting now, which was probably the reason why the Half Giantess Lissaet, sent as an escort with Melian to the market, felt bold enough to reply.

"Yeah, he was really really cheap commander, a bargain".

"I bet he was", Yessarian looked for the first time at the sorry heap of a man sitting cross legged on the floor. "This supposed to be a pleasure serf", she thought amusingly, "nothing appetizing about this disgusting creature". He was a human male, that was obvious. Except his gender nothing else like age or looks could be determined under what appeared like a lifetime pile of dirt. A huge beard covered his lower face, a very uncommon sight on hot Athas. His tattered clothes would be considered stinking even by the very low standards of the crimson wyvern camp (which could be detected miles off only by smell).

"Lissaet, Please don't tell me you spent more than two hundred silver Gehats on that slave or I'll get real angry".

Lissaet the Half Giantess smiled showing a frightening mouth full of filed crooked teeth, "would you believe only fifty commander"?

The half Elven commander raised an eye brow, "That's too cheap, you sure he doesn't carry some terminal disease". The price of an unskilled healthy human male that could provide yet years of cheap work was usually no less than one hundred and fifty silver.

"Seller said he was feisty, got the strength of a Mekillot. Needed a special collar for him and even that didn't work". "Don't worry commander", the Huge woman made an ugly smooching sound towards the man sitting on the floor, "we clean him up a bit and he turn out just fine".

"Feisty, you mean like the kind that tends to flee into the desert"? Yessarian eyed the man skeptically, he looked docile as a Kank, she doubted there was a grain of fighting spirit in him.

"The seller told us he tried to run three times and they had to put into a special psionic collar, the kind that opens an automatic link between the slave and a psionic master", replied Melian.

Yessarian knew the device her officer was talking about, it was a cruel and usually applied to important war captives. She never heard of it being used on a slave since the effort of creating one made it more worthwhile just to replace the slave. "That story stinks even more than that wretch you bought", she touched the man with the tip of her riding boot. "Kalak's madness", she flinched, "the man didn't move a muscle since he was brought here".

"I know it sounds weird", Melian shrugged her petite shoulders, "but for the price he was asking I was not going to argue".

The commander took a deep breath, when she agreed to take the slave Mari as a gift from lord Kotler, she wasn't aware of the trap she was digging to herself. "Every move I make is under scrutiny, I try to avoid mistakes like angering a good employer by refusing a gift and they manage to turn that against me". "Screw the lot of them, what I need now is a dignified way to get out of this". "Half the camp are outside the tent now waiting to see how I resolve this. Control I need more control.

" This is what we do", she finally said, "Mari is not my property he is the legion's. I agree that we somewhat may need male harlots, if only to shut some mouths, and I'm more than willing to give up Mari for this cause", she turned to the youth whom was eying the exchange nervously, "You can keep that piece of miserable slave on the floor for the same purpose, though I doubt there is going to be much demand". "By the Oba tits, they sure have low quality for Harem boys in Draj this days".

"Wait I'm not done", she raised her hand stopping her officer whom looked like arguing. "The harlots that we have in the camp take money for their services, I think the same rules should be applied here, though the money would go to the legion's coffers since both males are the legion's property, for price determination I say we use the usual method of a Rekotorions Bid".

"You don't mind giving up Mari, he has been a great help to you those last couple of weeks, being educated and all"? asked Melian.

Yessarian suddenly understood, Melian knew that she would give up Mari the moment she finds out there are grumbles in the camp concerning her keeping a personal slave. The logistics officer purchased the other slave just so she could keep Mari. She understood or at least thought she comprehended the motivation behind her officer's actions, Melian have revealed her true feelings for her long ago. Yessarian turned her down as she did with every other legionaries saying that sleeping with her officers was bad practice of prejudice. "Shit, it's not like I was doing something with Mari, he is too young to be my type just like woman are not my type dear Melian, I whish it was not so hard on you".

Turning again to the man sitting on the tent's floor she kicked him cruelly in the ribs, "You hear that you pile of shite, from now on your arse belongs to the legion. Your job is to keep the ladies happy at night, by day you work hard like everybody else. Your previous master say you are strong, you will be attached to Kokadel, he is our weapon smith, he's nose was cut off years ago so I guess you'll get along just fine".

"Oh, one more thing", since the last kick didn't bring out any reaction she booted him again, more viciously, "if I ever hear of any trouble coming from you, your stay with the legion is going to be a very short one, I'll not even waste time on trying to put you up for sale, is that clear"?

Again there was no reaction from the man. "Did you even understand a word of what I was saying? You bought an imbecile Melian", she cried. Annoyingly she reached down, grabbed his hair and pulled his chin so as to force his eyes to level with hers. The commander's hand raised to strike him again in order to get some reaction suddenly froze. Her arm went limp with a shock. Between the bush of hair and beard the most peculiar set of eyes she were inspecting her. It was not the fact that they were huge, huge for a human or even an Elf, nor was their color of deep blue almost purple which she have never encountered before, not even the pupil that was slanted as that of an animal caused her reaction. It was the intelligence she sensed behind those eyes that stayed her hand. Those inhuman eyes were inspecting her with such intensity as if they could borrow a hole through her mind. At last, as if content of what he saw, the slave raised a big hand and with a gentle movement, almost a caress, removed her hands from his chin and hair. "Crystal clear commander Yessarian, you will see no trouble coming from me", he's voice was deep and his speech slow with a peculiar accent. Try as she might Yessarian wasn't able to put her finger of the region it came from. Somehow it reminded her of the gray northern mountains ridge, it sent a shivers down her spine.

"You don't talk to the commander like that", the Half Giantess Lissaet yelled, the huge woman was obviously not impressed by the voice, "you don't call her by name you little shite, heck you ain't even earned the right to call her commander", raising a huge leg, she was obviously planning to stomp the man right where he sat.

Yessarian raised her hand before the situation turned ugly, "There is no call for that Lissaet, he meant no harm". "Just take him and Mari outside Ok, and clean him up so he will be serviceable for tonight".

"What was it all about?", asked Melian after the grumbling Lissaet left the tent accompanied with Mari and the new slave, nothing escaped the officer keen eyes, concern for her commander was obvious on her face.

"Where did you say you bought this slave from?"

"I didn't, it was at Nibenay slave market, three days ago from a trader named Asalleem, we worked with him before, he sells good merchandise". "Do you fear there is foul play involved? Just say the word and I'll arrange for the new slave to disappear silently".

"No that's wont be necessary, I guess that as long he as he wears the collar he can't escape or cause any damage, at least he can be easily be put under control". "I'll give it a couple of days to see how he adjusts".

Melian nodded her head in discontent, "I'll keep a close eye on him anyway just to play safe".

"We always do", Yessarian forced smile only emphasized the stress she has been in the last couple of months, "We always do".

Yessarian current commander of the crimson wyvern mercenary legion commander twenty sixth in line surveyed the Elves below. Being hybrid man and Elf she didn't much cared for her prejudiced relatives. Nonetheless she couldn't but admire their running skill. Juhud's companies on the run were a magnificent sight. More than a mile away she could easily pick out individuals amongst the units. First amongst them would be Juhud, the tallest Elf Yessarian ever encountered. She could easily visualize the huge thin form distinguished strides, the effortless flow of the immensely long legs, and the strong thigh muscles pushing at the soft sand. Next to him, carrying the flag with a crimson wyvern and a blue long bow of the dune rippers was Jeale swift stride, unhindered by the extra burden of the battalion banner.

To the ignorant viewer this might look like a disorderly rout, the commander new far better. Juhud Kept his three Archer companies, sixty men each in a tight formation, he has yet to give the order for a dispersed sprint. She was hoping he would not give it too late. Too much depended on Juhud timing ability. She always found it hard to trust an Elf, old habits die hard, but she had to accept that the dune rippers battalion loyalty to the legion was unquestionable. They were the remnants of a desert runners tribe who came upon difficult times. Instead of joining another Elven tribe and becoming a Jada (the almost equivalent of a slave) they offered to join the legion. Juhud was a second generation born after the join up. He considered the legion his tribe and Yessarian his tribe leader. In fact, Yessarian herself has joined the legion only thirteen years ago after escaping the gladiator stables of Tyr, thus was more an outsider to the legion than the Elf.

She was standing on the ruined wall of what appeared to be an ancient fortress built on top a west and south west stretching canyon wall, dominating a barren valley to the east and the huge canyon old riverbed. Reddish brown hued stone made guard tower stood north on the opposite wall of the canyon. A stone bridge once might have connected the two walls, but now it lay in disheveled ruin, only the northern tip extending a few hand off the cliff face remained, coming to a hundred hands span of sheer dropdown.

Returning her sight to the runners below she cursed disdainfully. The Elven battalion pursuers, two battalions of Crodlu riders light cavalry were gaining fast. "Too soon, much too soon", she whispered to herself. Her plan was not simple enough, too much has depended on timing and apparently she had miscalculated. This was not a mathematical quiz though, real life would be traded for a little gain.

Her orders given to her by her employers were to prevent the medium sized army on the plain to her east to reach the besieged Red springs fort. Lord Kotler's (their current employer) army has been blockading the fort for eight months now without any real accomplishment, except maybe for stopping the precious copper shipments extracted from the mines below the fort to reach their destination. Yessarian didn't feel much enthusiasm about signing with lord Kotler as sieges were known to be long and tedious business, with almost no loot until the end. On the bright side, the crimson Wyvern legion wasn't equipped with siege engines or any siege capabilities, which meant the role reserved for it was to sit on their arse and to counter any break attempts. Anyway, things being the way they were She couldn't afford to be choosey.

Time for sitting Idle was over now though. A strong relief force was sent by Merchant House Ketaxzel owner of Red springs that could pin Lord Kotler forces against the fort, changing the small war rules and tipping its scale in the Ketaxzelians favor. When word came from lord Kotler spies that a large force was assembling in Draj with orders to lift the siege, Mualah, Lord Kotler general on the field had sent Yessarian and the legion to stop it by all means available.

"Divide and conquer, more easier said then done", Yessarian first thought when her scouts first returned with report of the size of the force they were facing.

It appeared that House Ketaxzel pulled all available resources, assembling a massive armament, fielding various types of units. The scouts even recognized shock troops of the despicable merchant house Stel. But the most troubling news were two companies of fully armored Half Giants and two battalions of light cavalry almost four hundred strong. The force advancing quickly on the besieged fort was superior to the legion on almost every aspect and counted about three times the legion size. Hardly a good ratio to fight an offensive war.

There was more then one way to skin a Kank though. Yessarian was best at pinning down her legion's superior traits over an enemy. She also had the gift to turn these traits into the crucial and the decisive elements of any battle. Maneuverability, except for the light Crodlu riders the Wyvern legion was faster, add the fact that the assembled force was built out of several fighting groups with weak central control and you might devise a good working plan. First she decided to get rid of the light cavalry, as it presented the toughest problem. For accomplishing step one of her plan she needed to draw them far enough from the main force. All they needed was a good reason for branching, something that would be hard to resist. Something like an Elf Bait.

For the last three nights the four Dune Rippers companies stalked the Ketaxzelian camp. Skillfully their long bows picked available targets. Considering

the Elves excellent night vision it is no great surprise the Ketaxzelians learned

very soon to keep inside their tents. Any retaliation forces sent into the desert

came empty handed, easier to trap the wind than an Elf at night. These attacks

had no real affect, except maybe to bring down moral. Their real purpose was not inflicting casualties, but to make the conflict more personal. Yessarian knew that when emotions are involved, the mind works less clearly.

On the fourth day, the Ketaxzelian force found itself at it's last leg of the march about to enter the great Aluviel Canyons. Three miles east the canyon bed Dune Rippers waited in ambush. The first hail of arrows shot in broad daylight was deadly, felling a score of the advance force. The attack exposed the Elves position though. Fast, faster than she would have attributed to them, the light Cavalry mounted Crodlus and went into hot pursuit. An Elf on foot was fast, although the Dune Rippers were somewhat slower than the average Elf, as the generation born to the legion never had to participate the desert runners famous marches. They had a good head start on the Crodlu riders but their pursuers were gaining fast.

"Four hundred strides, ech, why doesn't he give the word for a sprint? Juhud has lost his touch", that came from Coalian, there were murmurs of agreement from the warriors around him. The strong Elf warrior stood on the wall beside her, commander of the only Ripper company not participating in the mad pursuit below.

Yessarian lay a calming hand on his shoulder, "Apparently Uhelah was not the only one nosing for promotion, I guess Juhud needs to start looking behind his back. Maybe we could start together a coalition of old timers soon to be replaced " she mused. At that moment the Rippers flag was raised twice, finally Juhud gave the signal. And as if their previous dash was only a stroll, the Elves unanimously went into a mad sprint.

"You all know the drill gents, Coalian, we wouldn't be able to see the rest of the Ketaxzelians force from down below, throw us a fair warning". The only response she got was a grunt, all eyes were on the race below.

Jumping of the broken wall, the commander hastened her way down the Canyon wall to the south. An old pass snaked it's way on the southern cliff, the one not facing the drama below. It led to another hidden canyon invisible to anyone coming from the eastern road it was open south and west. Connecting with the main route it created a sort of a crossroad with sheer cliffs on every side. The rest of the legion waited around the bend silent and ready.

"Too many factors are left to chance", acting her usual self Yessarian started finding the many holes, real or imaginative, in her plan just the moments prior to battle. "A major fuckup would be me falling down the cliff and breaking my stupid neck", she cursed silently as she almost stumbled on a large rock. "Keep a clear head girl, you got it all covered, nothing more you could do". "On the worst case we can always fold and be out of here in no time". She knew that trying to calm herself was a lost cause, a battle lost before it begun. Her feeling of anxiousness would only grow and reach its peak moments before the battle. Finally breathing hard she arrived at the end of the hidden pass, there awaited saddled with full battle gear, Fury, her heavy Crodlu steed.

She let Lieon her small page boy in assembling her weapons, working with swift methodology bought with hours upon hours of training. Bone Shield on her right (Yessarian fought with her left), the obsidian tipped Lance resting on her left thigh. A heavy mace secured to her hip and a heavy steel sword at her belt that traditionally belonged to the legion commander. On her head she put a helmet made of a Klar skull protecting the entire face. Her armor pieces were made from the skin a blue elemental beast from a long forgotten age.

Fury was not clad in less impressive manner. Carrying a full barding made of tough black leather, wearing obsidian spurs extensions on her claws and a vicious pointed head piece to enhance her ramming attacks, she looked every bit ready for the kill as her mistress. Together they were death, woe to any who would stand in their pass.

Without touching the steers or using the spurs she made the Crodlu trot forward. It was her special psionic talent, her affinity with animals and the ability to communicate with some of them with ease. "Good luck commander", Lieon shouted after her. "Wyvern triumph", she shouted back the legion battle cry while hoping she didn't need any luck to win this one. Taking her place at the head of the Legion's Cavalry Battalion (one company of heavy cavalry and two medium) she surveyed her men. Raven her second has done a good job assembling the troops, she took a mental note to comment him later. No time to make correction anyway. "Not a moment to soon she reflected", the first of the Elves appeared around the bend. Keeping a steady pace the Elves formation passed them in its westerly direction. It was no longer a tight formation, but a mad dash now, every man for itself and for his miserable hide.

"Hold it", Raising her hand Yessarian felt every hair standing in the intensity of the awaiting battle. Blood pumped in her ears making the world a mishmash of unrecognized sounds. Beneath Fury tensed, somehow through her mistress receiving the same wild experience.

The last staggers of the Reapers came into view, the light Crodlu cavalry less than ten strides behind.

"Charrge", she shouted, doubting that anyone even heard her cry. Lowering her hand the crimson wyvern commander galloped forward.

Time Slowed.

"One", Under her thighs Fury jumped like a huge grass hopper, starting slow but gaining speed with each huge stride of her powerful hind legs.

"Two", rider and steed became one body and soul, unstoppable machine.

"Three", The world focus became narrow, forgotten were her battle plans , her doubts, her fears. Even her men were forgotten at this moment, she might have rode alone and left them behind for all it mattered. Nothing but the Kill ahead.

"Four", Most of the light cavalry have passed the bend still hot in pursuit, none of them yet noticed the danger approaching from their left flank and rear.

"Five", raising her lance she prepared for the jarring impact.

"Six", An Elf stumbled, he was on his feet in no time, but his delay was sufficient for one of the riders to gain on him, the white bone spear went through his entire body. She knew this one by name, she knew all her seven hundred legionaries by name. "No Time for grief". Another Elf fell and then another.

"Seven", Fury now ran at her top speed, she was rode fast as the Ketaxzelian light Crodlus. The smaller beasts were slowing down, tired after their long sprint. She knew Fury wouldn't be able to maintain this pace for long.

"Eight", She wouldn't need to.

"Nine", A Ketaxzelian soldier suddenly turned his head in backward. Maybe it was a hyper sense that warned him of the approaching doom or maybe he just heard them. The terror on his young face was clear below his high helmet. "He haven't shaved his first beard yet" and then, "you notice the weirdest of things in a battle".

"Ten", the world exploded back into action.

The lance broke into the unprotected side of the young warrior. Forcing herself to the expected jar she watched with satisfaction as the rider flew off the saddle. At the same time Fury rammed into the much smaller Crodlu flank with the ferociousness of a Kierre. The Lizard mount was knocked off its feet burying the poor rider beneath its great bulk. Fury jumped over the fallen enemy already seeking another target. Although the momentum of the charge was completely depleted, Yessarian still kept her hold on the lance and could still bring it to a good use.

The Legion line was spread thin, trying to encompass as many enemy chargers, a formation planned to achieve critical damage in the initial attack and breaking the already loose Ketaxzelians formation with one decisive stroke. As for the depth of her line Yessarian was unconcerned, the legion main force, consisting of pike foot soldiers, was dogging close behind, geared up for closing any gap.

Turning her mount right she let another fighter skewer himself on her lance exercising his own Crodlu's momentum against him. The lance tip broke on the rider's tough armor, but still served it's purpose, felling the unfortunate soldier to the hard soil. Drawing out her long mace she captured another rider with a glancing blow at the back of his head.

Most of the legion riders have concluded their initial onslaught now, most were already into heavy skirmish as the charge maneuver has served its cause. The chase was broken, Ketaxzelian line completely smashed in several positions. Having no real axis to begin with, the dispersed light cavalry served as easy pray for the legion's more experienced and better equipped riders. Keeping a tight line they ganged up on the smaller mounts dispatching them efficiently. Cracking the enemy center was not the purpose for this battle though, only a tool. Anything less than total annihilation would be considered a failure.

Pushing forward the commander anxiously counted moments, time was crucial. In her frenzy Yessarian almost failed to notice a well planned stroke. Yellow clad warrior carrying the insignia of house Stel reared from her unprotected left and tried to sneak an a vicious night black obsidian broad sword through her defenses. Left handed Yessarian was at a learned very early to guard her less protected flank. Throwing her bodey desperately to the right, she let Fury be her shield. The jagged edge weapon deflected by the Crodlu barding and tough scales came off mark.

Swinging her mace in a wide arc to build a momentum, she countered. The sword gave the black warrior the advantage of a better reach and a faster stroke over the mace, but when it came to speed, Yessarian skill more than evened the odds. Quicker than a snake, using strength and reflexes honed by years of servitude in Tyr's arena, she brought the mace down. The man had barely enough time to bring his oval shield, painted with the crossed scimitars upon white field emblem, to counter the ferocious attack. Wooden splinters rained all over as buckler and steel made contact. Yessarian felt the pressure resisting her weapon give away, and expecting some kind of trick pulled quickly back. Another attack didn't came though, the fighter's shield arm hung limp at his side, broken and useless from the intensity of the stroke. With a shout of triumph, she brought the mace one last time at the now vulnerable side, completely smashing the warrior's left collar bone.

Lifting her head, she tried to get a brief situation assessment. Most of the mounted cavalry force have passed her by now. Cleaving their way through the entire enemy force from south to east. Later it was estimated that almost fifth of the enemy force (about eighty strong) was destroyed in the initial attack. Most of the Wyvern cavalry legionnaires now doubled back and started skirmishing with individual targets. The only chance for the Ketaxzelian had to escape laid in their ability to regroup in places were the legion still didn't have control and try to escape back eastward, or otherwise hold the line long enough for the rest of the force to arrive.

The legion was hardly going to let them do that. The last three companies of foot soldiers have finally reached the field. Poe Vandalk, second in command and officer in charge of marching death battalion arrayed them in six formations, each consisting of three rows of pike men. They formed in deadly order to the eastern flank, capturing the Ketaxzelian in deadly boxes. Heavy Cavalry at their back and front, a sea of spikes at their left and the canyon to their right the Ketaxzelian best choice was surrender.

But the legionaries didn't allowed them the luxury of yielding. Anyone dropping down his weapon was quickly dispatched with cruel professionalism. At some places, especially were there have been a large concentration of Stel warriors, pockets of resistance still held. It was a last act of defiance but it was futile. Juhud Elves, now no longer threatened, doubled back from the chase and found these concentrated enemy pockets, an easy target for their long bows. Shooting without discrimination from a minimum range they made every arrow count.

A group of house Stel riders suddenly broke the blockade, making a run for it. Turning their mounts they charged madly eastward, slaying any who stood in their pass, legionnaire or ally. Their leader a dark clad huge man was a terror to behold. Unlike the rest of the Ketaxzelian cavaliers, he mounted a heavy Crodlu with full and very expansive barding. His headpiece was made in the form of a human skull, offering a grinning visage of death. Here and there below the black armor patches of black striped yellow skin (not unlike the skin of a desert leopard) peeked. To complete the diabolic picture, he carried a thin human length carved steel sword in one hand, which he already used skillfully to dispatch three legion riders. Now whenever he went, people simply cleared the way, letting him pass unhindered.

Yessarian realized with horror that she knew the guy. His name was Ikarius, assassin for hire and a mercenary like her. She even had once the dubious honor to meet with him once in person. Igial Abshalam, former wyvern legion high commander tried to convince him to join the legion. But the man was not team player, he wanted to be his own boss. He was not even human in the real sense of the word, being a new race, some sort of hybrid of man and leopard, he combined the deadliest characteristics of man and beast. Last she heard, he was working for house Shom, and was making quite a name for himself in the Ivory Triangle region. He started his very own small company of retinues, specializing in high level assassination jobs. The only explanation for his being here amongst the Ketaxzelian troops was that someone had offered a generous sum for a hit job. She could easily think of several possible targets, herself being not the least amongst them.

No time for cold feet now though, a breakthrough could give heart to the remaining Ketaxzelian cavalry invigorating them into trying more such coordinated attempts.

Placing her mace back in her weapon belt, Yessarian swerved Fury, directing her steed to a collision course with the black rider's pass. The big Crodlu charger had a large leather belt strung around the base of the neck. It held several extra arms ready for usage by the riders. People tended to drop and lose their weapons a lot during battle. The legion experience indicated that the weapons belt, or the damn extra armory as it was nicknamed , could be a real life saver, sometimes spelling the difference between victory or defeat. From this belt the commander lifted with her free hand a cocked heavy crossbow.

"One shot !", "Man or Steed?!”, she pondered.

While dispatching the man was her aim, the Crodlu presented an easier target, and a man on foot amongst raging Cavalry, especially Crodlu cavalry with sharp rending claws, was dead meat. "Let's see how good you are on your feet master Ikarius".

Aiming low, as to catch the riding beast on the less protected belly, she gave a short pray to all the gods that hold true the archer hand and let go. The short shaft flew true burying entirely in the soft belly. The poor beast continued running for a few strides then reared backward and toppled to the ground on it's back, it's great hind legs uselessly kicking in anger and agony against the clear sky. The rider somehow managed to clear free from the stirrups, jumping at the last moment before the beast hit the ground. The next Crodlu staggered, almost colliding with his fallen brethren, but managed by luck to stay afoot. His rider was not so fortunate. A red feathered arrow sticking from his back indicated another soldier will not be returning to the Ketaxzelian lines. The last Crodlu didn't fare so well either, It's legs tangled with his slain bigger brother he toppled to the ground, tossing the rider into the air. He painted a small arc in the air, falling back to earth he came to rest at Yessarian's feet. Fury reared her ugly head, the huge beak came down and with a snap closed about the mercenary's neck. A small geyser of blood erupted from the ruined blood vessels staining the dusty road with colorful patterns.

Seeing that Ikarius was not dead only stunned from the fall, the commander urged her Crodlu onward, hoping to dispatch him swiftly while he still lay befuddled.

Drawing rune decorated steel sword from its sheath, she braced for a quick stroke, but miscalculated the assassin's stamina and ferociousness by far. The black clad warrior ducked with ease to the side, retrieving his curved sword of steel while rolling back to his feet. Instead of running away he braced himself for another pass his sword raised En Garde position. This time she took more care with her aim, planning a Fendente high stroke, using her higher position and charge for building momentum. Her sword landed true but the carved sword countered with a jarring force that almost made her lose grip on her own weapon. Circling Fury she prepared for another pass wishing she still had a cocked crossbow. Ikarius didn't wait for her to have another go. With the speed of a Kierre after his pray he sprang and was on top of her in a heartbeat. Jumping Fury's large back he used Yessarian's hair strands as a leverage to gain hold almost snapping her neck in the process. She swiveled her elbow backward trying desperately to get him off. Her hand connected with her tormentor's lower jaw sounding a satisfying crack, but his hold didn't slackened.

Panic clouded her mind. Forgetting anything she knew about close hand to hand combat she simply rained blind strokes one after the other. One such strike found something soft, drawing a howl of pain from the man clinging to her back. His shout was that of a beast, nothing human about it. With another beastly cry of despair the assassin fell back, losing his perch. His hand though, still held firm to Yessarian's hair rust colors locks. Choosing between a broken back and falling down, she slackened her grasp on the saddle, letting herself fall backward.

Yessarian landed on top of Ikarius, for a few seconds immobilized as the air was drawn from her lungs in a grasp. When finally breath came back she rolled to her feet dazzled but mostly unhurt. Ikarius lay still as a rock. Having taken most of the fall impact it was not without reasoning that the man won a broken his back for his efforts.

Somehow during her fall Yessarian managed to retain her hold on her weapon. Ignoring her own throbbing body she limped back to the body, intending to make sure he was not going to get up this time. It almost cost her life. Realizing too late that the beast man was not dead only acting, she barley had time to avoid the long dagger thrust. With the sword she deflected the thrust in the last moment, sending a slash intended at her belly to chip her thigh. "Not fair" she cursed, "the bastard has more lives than the hellish cat which spawned him". She checked her blood soaked leg. The wound appeared superficial, but one could never be to careful with an assassin induced punctures. Their weapons tended to be coated with an assortment of poisons. Some had the vitality to fell a Mekillot. Her delay gave Ikarius enough time to regain his feet. Sword carried in his right, the bone dagger in his left he came quickly for the kill. The horrible skull face mask fell off his head during the tumble, but he didn't need a mask to cause terror. His face was an array of black stripes upon yellow skin, with red tattoos painted on each cheek. His eyes were those of a man but with the iris of a leopard. One could hardly tell where the animal ended and the human started. Even his human mouth, now smeared with blood caused by Yessarian's punches, held two rows of sharp yellow tusks.

With a gurgle that was something between a cough and a laughing sound he lunged, Riverso high to the right cheek, a Seconda with the dagger protecting his left upper side. Yessarian was not to be taken so easily though, lunging below his left dagger she attempted her own Mandritto, a low cut. Jumping quickly back she noticed with satisfaction the red ribbon she managed to leave on his thigh.

The man laughed and saluted her, "was he mad?" came the brief thought. "Probably yes”. Most unique new races she met were not mentally stable.

"Yessarian desert fox, how convenient, you save me the bother to chase you all the way to Red springs". His reaction both surprised and frightened her, it was obvious her head was on this bounty hunter's list. She didn't answered his provocations though, if he wanted to waste breath on idle talking it was his trouble.

They circled each other carefully, the assassin letting her wide berth having learned a lesson in underestimation. En Garde his right arm in Tierce blade up and to the outside, wrist pronated, his left in quarte blade up and to the inside, wrist supinated. Cutting false edge with his right under his left. "How Ironic that he excels in fencing style called tiger".

Yessarian found herself pressed hard against a superior fencer. The sword was

one of her favorites, Mikanos, her old weapon arena master taught many uses of the ancient arte of crossing blades. In fact her technique was the only thing that saved her so far. Her adversary style was blunt almost to the point of being simple, but still all she could do was to defend as his inhuman raw strength and speed compensated for his lack of skill. Fencing with two hands gave him a huge advantage. Yessarian noticed he wore no boots, his bared nails were the long claws of a tiger. His legs moved nimbly and silently on the barren earth, leaving almost no trace the gray dust despite his great bulk.

"Like a leopard", she thought, "I must do something or the legion will have to pick a new leader". "Either he will kill me or I'll get trampled by a Crodlu, I have to get back on Fury".

Lunging from the left low she made him jump back, it was no real attack, it only meant to give her the time for locating help. Most of the fight have moved east from their position but a few skirmishes still held nearby.

"Hey", she called for a passing rider showing the right colors, "Help here". The rider turned for a moment before continuing on her way, it was Uhelah. Later the girl could always claim that she didn't see her commander, which was reasonable enough explanation. But Yessarian knew she saw her and knew that Uhelah knew that she knew.

"I'm dog meat, or rather cat meat", she reflected sadly, "how did I let things to deteriorate so that she doesn't obey a direct order from her commander ".

While she turned to Uhelah with her cry of help her head was turned. Ikarius took his chance and gave a wide high chopping stroke. Have she gone to battle without a proper head piece, Yessarian head now would be rolling on the ground. Instead the strike caused her helmet to fracture in several places. She let it fall to the earth as it now interfered with her sight.

Saline wind suddenly picked up unfurling the her long braid. She felt the bitterness on her lips as salty sweat drops fell from her cheeks. Perspiration was a luxury in a world almost devoid of water, but she couldn't help these drops induced by fear. Yessarian couldn't remember when was the last time she was so afraid.

The attacks came more decisive now, relentless as if trying to wear her down. Her parries became more desperate and her counter attacks less frequent and less accurate. The force behind each attack was like the swing of a half giant. Steel rang against steel time and time again, ringing with unfamiliar sound. At last came the inevitable. A strike came with such a force that made her numb fingers to lose their grip on the sword. She stood defenseless for a moment, waiting for the strike which never came. The curved steel sword rang an eerie wail against an obsidian lance.

Looking to her left rode two figures on a Heavy legion Crodlu. The first she recognized immediately, it was Raven her second in command and acting commander of the mounted heavy battalion (crimson Impalers), the second was hard to place at first, but then she recognized him too. It was the new human pleasure slave, he was perched uncomfortably behind Raven.

"What the hell is he doing here?", she managed to think, "he is supposed to keep at the camp with the washers, the cooks and the whores".

Seeing the odds were now against him Ikarius howled again furiously, aimed his knife and threw. Weaponless she barely had time to defend herself. Raising her hand she stopped the deadly projectile from puncturing her belly. Instead it buried itself in her arm to the hilt.

Cursing the tiger man then ran like all armies of king Hamanu were on his tail. He stopped only to mount Fury, the trained Crodlu resisted the unfamiliar handler, but with a few vicious kicks using his claws as spurs he convinced her to cooperate. Instead of running eastward though, towards the approaching Ketaxzelian force he directed his new mount to the west, disappearing amongst the combatants.

"Are you Ok commander"? Raven extended his arm, but she couldn't bring out the force to bring her own arm up. The new slave, jumped nimbly from the beast back, with ease he lifted her and placed her behind Raven.

There were too many unanswered questions but she would have time for those later. Surveying the field Yessarian gave a quick assess of the situation. The battle was dwindling, they have accomplished what they came here to do. The Ketaxzelian light Cavalry escort force was all but finished. Her men have mostly done fighting and have begun looting.

The battle ended not a moment too soon though. As she saw the breathless sprinting Elf coming towards her she already knew what he was going to say. He was in Coalian's Ripper company, the one left to survey the battle from above.

"Commander, the main force is on your tail, they would be here in ten minutes tops".

"Tell Coalian to give us a head start, shoot them but clear off the moment they clear the first ridge or you will get trapped on that canyon".

"Sound retreat", she turned back to Raven.

"The men creased his forehead, "what about the loot"? Raven was a good man, reliable, he would never make for a good Legion commander though. He simply didn't have the head for the politics involved.

"Forget the loot, no time, take only their remaining Crodlus".

Raven took out a small horn and gently, like kissing a woman he blew three clear notes.

Looking westward Yessarian saw heavy clouds building above a far mountain ridge, she knew they held no promise for rain. "All in all not so bad, she reflected. For some reason, the sinking in her gut didn't subside.

Her mood didn't improve three days later at the camp back at the siege despite the fact that every one credited her for the last victory.

After dispatching the Light Cavalry she let things run by the Book. The Ketaxzelians in their haste to reach the fort forgo the use of Mekillots towed argosies. Yessarian simply sent her entire ripper battalion with simple and effective tactic. The Rippers positioned themselves at their bow range limit which was somewhere around four hundred yards arrayed in long lines. Now consider being on the receiving end of two hundred and forty arrows shot in union by archers that practice hitting desert mice at the age of five. The Ketaxzelian had few choices. If they chose to retreat, they would be chased mercilessly by the rippers. If they chose to charge, the Elves had specific orders to disengage. There was no force fast enough capture them or vigorous enough to keep up with them. When the Ketaxzelian would give up the Rippers now would return and the show would start all over. The Elves just had to make sure they had enough open ground to run to and they would be able to wear down a force almost ten times their size. And so it so became that the pass left in the desert behind the Ketaxzelian relief force could be recognized by the countless of bodies and deserted wagons. At last the Ketaxzelians did the only reasonable thing they could. They camped in a more or less defended position where they could trap the Elves if attacked. Yessarian whom was in touch with her Rippers the whole time, ordered the Rippers to keep them locked in their position. She had no intention of attacking, her objectives were fully accomplished. She had prevented the relief force from joining with the Fort and that was enough. She could keep them bottled up as long as she needed, or at least until another force would be coming (though she felt it was highly unlikely). As for the battle fought, it turned out result were better then she have hoped for. Only fifteen dead and thirty five wounded, most were from the Cavalry battalion. In exchange, they slew and wounded almost four hundred light Cavalry, and even had one hundred and twenty Crodlu mounts to show for it a more than a fair exchange. The only sour point was that her scouts found Fury in the desert. The beast man slew the Crodlu and drained her blood for nourishment.

No further trace of Ikarius could be found. Checking with Mualah, Lord Kotler general on the field commander of the besieging forces, he claimed there were no reports of anyone breaching the blockade, man or beast. Despite his confidence, somehow she was certain the assassin already sat comfortably within the fort walls. He was a worrying factor, an enigma which she needed to solve. There was little info though that could be scrubbed here in the desert, far away from her city contacts. What she did learn, helped none to improve her foul mood. Ikarius it seemed, have begun working four years ago in Nibenay, about the same period which she became commander of the legion.

Having build a considerable reputation in the Draj as a freelance assassin, he started to acquire some followers and retainers. Some were even notable enough to retain their own reputation. A bard named Gafad a master in poison and it's uses, Muhalock, a former gladiator Mul slave, Ketechinak, a brutal Thri Kreen warrior and the rumors said his latest acquisition was that of a young talented elf defiler/psionic.

Far too many skin jobs were attributed to this bunch too be true, though if only a grain of the stories were correct, Yessarian had much to worry about.

Trying to scratch an itching at her lower back, Yessarian found that it was an impossible task with her wounded left arm tied in a sling. Outside the command tent, laughter, music and other sounds of merriment filled the night air. The Legion survived another battle, they were alive and that was enough a reason for a party. Loot was distributed, which was always a happy occasion. The wagons, left by the Ketaxzelian forces on their run from the Elves were full of nice surprises like weapons, food and water. The captured Crodlus would be partly sold, partly kept to nourish the ever hungry mouths in the legion. "All in all, nothing to complain about", A word came that lord Kotler would be arriving himself for the Siege. He send a message telling how pleased he was with their recent accomplishment. It was not over presumptuous to believe she might be able to squeeze a bonus out of him.

"So why am I sitting here brooding like an Inix whose tail was shaven?", She wondered. "That's because you can never stop worrying for real or imaginary reasons, admit it girl you are addicted". More then anything else she wanted to lay her tired head upon her furs and to sleep her worries to oblivion.

Giving a great sigh she went yet again about her endless list. There were the usual day to day worries, like keeping the men fed, clothed and sharp. There were every day disputes and bickers, fights and boredom she had to solve and avoid. There were the post battle worries, of burying the dead, and taking care of the survivals, of distributing the loot fairly, praising those who should be praised and punishing anyone who deserved a punishment.

There were always the future problems like where will they campaign next and where should the go to get a reasonable contact. And of course her personal problems, like the leadership threat presented by Uhelah was always there hovering like a sand storm.

"What would Igial Abshalam do? He always liked solving his problems while taking a shite", the memory of the tough quirky leader brought a genuine smile (rare occurrence these days). "It does no good for yer pretty face to worry so much, go outside smell the air, something will come out", he would say.

"Well staying inside the stuffed tent would do you no good, only to contribute to your reputation of being standoffish". A commander had to keep a certain distance from his subordinates, but also had to avoid being becoming aloof. A party was something she couldn't miss, she had to make an appearance. As much as she would like to simply lay her acing bones, sleep was an unaffordable luxury. Picking a soft Drajian cloak she stepped outside the command tent, bracing herself for the chill. The air tasted refreshing, wholesome, the way it does when it's been touched by cold winds.

"Bring you something from the fire?" She asked Codoul, one of the three guards outside her tent. Since she has learned she was in an assassin list Yessarian took care to triple the guard around her tent. Not that it was much likely for Ikarius to strike in a middle of a camp full of hostile troops, but one can never be too careful.

"Na, the boys need to stay sharp, they will drink at the end of their shift". He pointed at the two trained Jahkars held on a long leash, "Now Duka and Jara here would appreciate something to eat".

"Well I'm yet to see a Jahkar who doesn't appreciate food", she thought. The stupid lizards wouldn't refrain from eating carrion months old. It was rumored they would eat sand if hungry enough.

Large crowd stood before nice fire singing and laughing. Loot distribution is always the peak of mercenary life. The legion rules forbade individual looting on the field. Anyone caught pilfering was hanged or banished into the desert with arms amputated. The phenomenon existed to an extent but was the exception rather than the rule. Strict codes dictated the exact portions, from the high commander to the lowest cook. The only exceptions were the courage bonuses. Five percent of any loot would be given for any exceptional displays of courage or smart fighting. The legion commander was given the honor to choose the individuals, companies or whole battalions that would benefit from the extra booty. Yessarian changed the rule, and now the companies commanders distributed the courage bonuses as they saw fit amongst their man. It was very popular decision at the time, giving her much credit, but now she regretted it. It took of her hand an annoying responsibility, since there would always be those unsatisfied with such decisions and It caused the company wealth to be distributed more evenly. On the down side, it also took away some of the high commander leverage and bestowed it on the lower officers levels. Uhelah as a company commander for instance used the privilege to enrich her supporters. But there was nothing she could do about it now. At least she retained the responsibility of dividing the courage bonuses between the company leaders. Today for instance, she took care to let the Dune Reapers Battalion get almost the entire bonus. No one argued, the Reapers role in the battle had been the most dangerous and most crucial. It would be a just compensation when they return.

A skinned Crodlu was turning merrily over the fire, Geitar, the Half Giantess master cook, was peeling off stripes with a huge bone cleaver. Someone found a barrel of mead amongst the abandoned wagon. Now it stood open for anyone to dip their cups in. Many red noses indicated that dipping had already been going for some time. Two barrels of water stood nearby, also part of the last battle booty. Every now and again a group of legionaries took someone by force and roaring in laughter threw him in. Yessarian as much as she disliked the wasteful behavior decided to let the matter rest. "Let the boys play this night, they deserve it".

She approached silently the celebrating circle and sat at its edge without being noticed. She wasn't one to make a grand entrance, not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't knew how. Some leaders were like beacons, shining amongst it's peers. Others like legendary legion commander Kiligian carried immense charisma and the oratory skill to sway any crowd. Some had an excellent mind for politics, a skill important both for getting the best contract and navigating the dangerous dunes of mercenary leadership. She had none of the above, the only field she excelled was the battlefield. There she could always come with the best plan, there she shone, her bravery and self example giving heart to her men in the darkest hour. Many times it didn't suffice.

A Rekotorion was taking place, a sort of an auction for the highest bidder, only that several items were bid at the same time. She set her eyes on a small iron rapier. It was not fancy but looked of fine quality, a tool of functionality. Following her last encounter with the assassin she swore she would teach herself dueling using two weapons. To her delight few people if any showed interest in the knife, actually there was little interest in most of the Rekotorion bids tonight as almost everyone presented were gathered around one auction. Four impressive piles of coins, not all of them ceramic but also silver, sat on opposite edge of a circle drawn on the ground. The four participants shouted their bids to a great applaud and laughter of the spectators. Looking around the commander looked for the item that was auctioned.

"What's game here Lissaet"?, she nudged the Half Giantess who was clapping hands and jeering with the rest.

"Oi, commander, didn't saw you coming. They are bidding oo's to bed that pleasure slave boy me an officer Melian bought".

This explained the interest and the laughter, it was the first time for slave boy, a pleasure slave actually, to stand on the auction shelf. It didn't explain the high sums involved though.

"Oi myself won me Mari for this night" the big warrior beamed. Indeed the slim Elven youth sat docile and frightened in her lap. To emphasize her pleasure, she slapped his buttocks, causing him to jump with fright. "Don' be so eager boy", Lissaet smile was hardly pleasant, "there'll be enough time tonight for squirming and jumping". Yessarian started to have second thoughts about giving away Lord Kotler's gift to be used in such a way.

Pressing forward she tried to locate the slave on auction, he still owed her explanation as to what he has been doing in the battle field three days ago. During the days following she have been to busy and this small but important detail slipped her mind. She asked Raven about it, but all he could contribute little, claiming the slave jumped behind him in the middle of the raging battle, screaming that the commander needed help.

He sat alone on a rock, very near to the fire, exposed for all eyes to behold. Yessarian had hard time locating him because he was almost unrecognizable. Someone took the effort to clean, shave and to cut his wild hair short, legion style. His dirty rags were gone, and he was given clean pantaloons, his chest remained bare.

Beneath the rags and the dirt there was the most beautiful boy/man she ever sat eyes upon, he was glorious. If a sorcerer king would have ordered a sculpture to create a portrait or a statue of himself, this is would probably be the way to do it. Huge shoulders rested on almost perfect proportioned body and muscles rippled on the proud chest and flat stomach which met wasp narrow waist. His golden skin was marred here and there by old scars that only added to the overall impressive visage.

And of course there were the eyes. Those amazing bluish purple eyes caught her like a moss caught in the flame of the lamp. She felt as if they were drawing her like vacuum compelling her to take a dive.

"Those are endless chasms, there lies the pass to oblivion", she had a frightened reflection and averted her face. Feeling suddenly very hot she knew her face was red to the tips of her hair and was grateful for the concealment offered by the night.

"Fifteen Drajian silver and five ceramic", the bidder was Ekatan, a man actually of the armed crushers foot company. He was known for his great liking of beautiful boys, and was called "rear breach" though only behind his back and from far away. A great cheer of laughter went in the crowed. "Ay so all of ye oos been laughing their arse, mind ye I'll be visiting each one of ye", Ekatan was drunk and more than a little pissed.

"Ill match your bid and add one Drajian silver", the voice rang shrill above the other voices.

"Well Surprise surprise, so Uhelah decided she needed a warmer bed tonight or was it just one of her schemes to gain favors. Now this gives me an interesting thought".

Before she even had time to give the idea a second consideration Yessarian heard the words coming out of her mouth, "I'll match your bid and add a gold coin".

All faces turned in her direction.

"Yessarian, what a pleasant surprise, Ill match your bid and raise you another Kalak golden", Uhelah's forced smile indicated she was anything but pleased. Yessarian didn't missed the fact that her officer took care to omit the "commander" prefix to her name. There was only one person called commander in the legion, the rest of the high ranking personnel were called officers.

Astonished cries of bewilderment erupted from almost everyone present, now this was something worth seeing. Before it have just been a simple entertainment, a curios. It's not every day you see ladies (even if it was the hard legion ladies) bid for male piece of ass. But this was something different, this was a battle between the commander and a rival officer aspiring to replace her. An open confrontation like that was not an everyday sight. People from around ceased doing whatever occupied them at the moment and drifted closer.

"Now you have done it girl, no backing now, you got to finish what you started", from across the fire she saw Melian watching her with concern. Giving her logistic officer a reassuring wink, she took two large coins from her purse. "I'll match your Kalak golden and raise you another one". The rare gold coins minted in Tyr eons ago, bearing the face of the tyrant were bigger than the regular Walis minted coins.

"Ay fold", Ekatan took a great care to show his displeasure while he retrieved his pile of coins. "See you another night loverboy", he blew a kiss towards the slave who sat oblivious to everything around him. Yessarian after their previous encounter was no longer fooled, she knew it was a sham, the man took in everything.

"I quit", an Elven lancer named Gealian, the only other bidder except the commander and Uhelah folded. It was no longer a regular bid but a contest of leadership, Ekatan and Gealian had no place in it.

Rammas, a limping scoundrel who organized the legion Rekotorions, legal gambling and other more shady events jumped the small overturned barrel which was used as an improvised auction stage. He was grinning broadly like a Mekillot getting a blowjob from an Inix. "The bastard basks in moments like this", Yessarian reflected.

"Now it's up to you mistress Uhelah strong arm, place your bet or folllld", he had an irritating habit to stretch his sentences.

"I'll match your coins, and raise you this silver bracelet, that's fifty Draj silver, and Helein, go and bring my bag, you know were it is". Uhelah was obviously going to take this all the way.

Yessarian took out the coins and added a nice looking ring to the pile, "That's another five gold coins for you". "This is going to take awhile. Colin, stick me nice looking piece of that Crodlu, And mind you pick a juicy one just like you did with that Stel mercenary at the canyon". Colin's chest puffed a few inches as he hastened to comply. People around him gave him strong slaps of approval as he passed by. The skirmish with the relief force have been his first battle experience. To receive a public notification from the commander was worth for him a thousand gold coins.

"What's happened Yessarian, you have suddenly developed a taste for men. First Mari, then you buy this beautiful slave and now you want to get into Colin pants as well?". The laughs and the jeers at Uhelah's crude joke indicated there were surprisingly more than several supporters for the officer in the crowd.

"How bad is the situation, and how did I let it deteriorate so?", the commander had a moment of panic before she retaliated. "You should know Uhelah, words come cheep, we receive only hard cash in our Rekotorions". Yessarian regretted the words the moment they came out, She has admitted of being insulted.

"Well, I don't think I need a reminder of our rules", Uhelah emphasized the word our, "After all I've known them all my life", she smiled wickedly.

Uhelah has been born to the legion while Yessarian only joined at the age of sixteen, a fact that always went against her. She felt as if the beautiful black haired mercenary woman was burying her with every word.

"I'll match you Yessarian and raise you this iron dagger, for ten goldens", said Uhelah. Rammas took the beautiful looking weapon and passed it around, taking care to make a great show out of it. In the meantime Uhelah gave orders to her lackeys to bring her means for enlarging her bet. Coin to coin the officer could never match her commander whom always got a much larger portion of any campaign, but she could draw favors from her supporters to give Yessarian a good competition. Yessarian on the other hand had no sponsors, her philosophy for running the legion dictated no discrimination an iron rule. In order to support such hard code of behavior she couldn't be hindered by favors owed to any person. She was alone on this one, like she has been alone for the past four years.

Rammas have now ended his performance with the dagger and proceeded with another show. This time he paraded the slave around the circle of legionaries, drawing whoops and whistles of approval. He was dragging his show further than was acceptable, even for him. Yessarian realized he was buying time for Uhelah, helping her raise funds.

"So Rammas was on the bitch list too, I wonder who else". Tales of Uhelah and her insatiable appetite for lovers were already on there way to become part of the legion folklore.

Rammas stopped his parade when he reached her, "Look at him commander, isn't he worth the effort, I wouldn't hesitate so long if I were you".

Searching around the circle for a friendly face she could find none. They were all her soldiers, they respected and followed her, but none was her friend. Suddenly very tired, Yessarian had a wish she was far away, "The hell with it, let them have Uhelah to choke on".

Someone touched her shoulder reassuringly, usually she would have been angry of such liberty, but now she was grateful for the support it offered.

"My impression of you was not of a quitter mistress", the voice was loud and clear was the deep accented speech of the pleasure slave. No one around her heard him and she realized he was sending her psionic messages. She chose wisely to channel the anger arising at the intrusion to the more important matters at hand.

"I'll counter your bid and raise another ten gold." She counted silver and gold

coins carefully and added them to the nice pile.

"Helein at last", Uhelah smiled at the puffing girl who came running, carrying a heavy wooden casket. "I'll raise you another twenty Yessarian. I'll tell you what commander, maybe we should ask the boy himself with whom he prefers to spend the night". Uhelah smiled, she was wearing a tight silk blouse that emphasized her curves, the envy of most girls in the camp and the wet dream of most men she always made Yessarian feel plain.

"I would rather sleep with a Kank then with that dark headed witch", the voice of the slave was clearer this time, as if the connection improved. "Oh and by the way, you are much prettier, so keep your head high".

"Shut up" she said.

"Why I didn't say nothing" Lissaet made an offended face.

"I'll counter and raise you seventy gold", She poured the entire content of her money bag on the ground. There was a moment of silence, and then cries of astonishment. The pile of money was sufficient to buy a pleasure slave, probably several on any market. But it was not the attention of a male that was bargained here tonight after all.

Uhelah paled, slowly she counted coins from her cask, fixing them in even piles on the ground. Rammas fidgeted around her the whole time.

"There isn't enough coins here Uhelah", he blurted nervously.

"Did you figured it by yourself genius?" she spat disgustingly.

Yessarian preyed for whomever there was to pray whishing the officer would come to her senses and stop this madness. "Please stop, I am depleted.", at the same time she realized the Uhelah would never quit, not until she was commander of the Wyvern legion.

Raising her head proudly Uhelah addressed the crowd, "I add to my bid my own mount, lightning, gear and all".

Again there were astonished cries of amazement. A mercenary's trained mount was his most valued possession, priceless almost never for sale. Breathing deeply she flashed a victorious smile.

Rammas echoed with a thin smile of his own, "So what it would be commander fold? or do you wish to proceed?"

"Let her choke on it".

"What"? Yessarian shook her head in confusion but the voice in her head sounded resolute.

"Pretend it was your plan all along, make her eat her own stubbornness and choke on it".

Finally understanding she addressed the legionaries "I Guess that's high enough", she smiled.

"What"? now it was Uhelah turn to sound astonished.

" I thank you on behalf of the legion on your generosity, let me assure you that your money would be used for the benefit of all. You know, for a moment there Uhelah I was real afraid you were going to quit. I didn't realized how desperate you were to get laid".

There was another moment of astounded silence, followed by a roar of laughter. Yessarian the desert fox has done it again, managed to fool everyone. The commander basked in the rare moment of glory. Realizing she was sweating with excitement she let out a long sigh of relief, somehow she realized she managed to turn defeat into victory.

"You never meant to pay for your bid !", Uhelah face was the color of the red sun, her voice full of rage and poison.

"Come to think of it, she really ain't that pretty", the vindictive thought passed the quickly in Yessarian's mind. Shrugging her shoulders she gave her officer her best "got you bitch" smile.

"I withdraw my bid", Uhelah grabbed as much coins as she was able and started shoving them back into her money chest, ignoring the cries of boo thrown in her direction.

Rammas put a hand on the pile, confused, "you cannot withdraw a bid Uhelah".

"Get that hand back to were it belongs unless you wish me to nail it to the ground. I can do whatever I wish, Yessarian cheated, she never intended paying", her fierce dark eyes dared anyone to disagree.

Rammas turned back to Yessarian, "Well, we seem to have ran into a problem here commander", Yessarian noticed with satisfaction that the mocking element was absent from his voice, "commander" phrased with utter respect. Scratching his bolding temples he continued, "I say it's your call, do you let Uhelah get away with this"?

Yessarian put on a somber face, it was a complete contrast to the elation she felt inside, "Have it been other person instead of me bidding against her I would have made her pay. Since It's also my bid, I can afford to be more generous. You can keep your money Uhelah."

"And what about your Bid commander, will you withdraw too"? Rammas licked his lips as he eyed the generous pile of money.

"Of course not, I always honor my commitments. I say the legion use this money to buy a few more barrels of this excellent broth".

Her last words were drowned by an orchestra of cheers, and claps of approval.

The rest of the evening was a dizzy blur. she stopped counting the slaps on her shoulders and the people who wanted a word with her. She felt overwhelmed by the love they were pouring on her, the same people whom just moments ago were willing to replace her. She didn't delude herself about the shallowness of their feelings, knowing all to well how short ran their memory, but was happy enough to bask in them even for a little while. After a short period though, she found herself drifting as always to the fringes of the party, becoming an outside watcher. Her body was begging her to let it sleep, and she sneaked unnoticed back to her tent, wishing she wouldn't meet anyone on the way that she would need to talk to.

Dropping the chunk of meat she brought with her to the Jahkars who gulped it with a single bite, gaining a grunt of approval from Codoul, Yessarian entered her tent. The command tent was large as compared to other camp tents. A fire was needed to keep it warm during the night. Someone already took care of that of which she was grateful, when she saw whom it was she changed her mind.

"What are you doing here"?

"You paid most of your yearly income for me to be here, where else would I be"?

"Stop doing that".

"Doing"?

"Talking inside my head".

"Sorry"!

"What is that Barrel doing in here"?

"It's a bath, get in mistress"?

Yessarian heard of bathes in the cities, and even had the funds to try them had she the inclination. To her practical mind it looked like a complete waste.

"Desert and snakes if I do"!

"You want me to undress you or you think you could manage on your own".

"Keep ignoring me and I'll undress you out of your skin with a knife".

"You don't need violence to get what you want with me"!

"Who said I want anything with you and what do you know about my needs anyway"?!

"You need a good bath and you need a good sleep Mistress".

" By the Oba's tits, what I need now is peace and quiet, not someone to order me around".

"I'll shut up if you get in".

She found it difficult to undress with one hand and so let him do it for her. His skin was velvet and his hands were gentle. She had a fleeting reflection about how it would be like to be held by them.

Naked she stepped into the barrel and with a yelp jumped right out.

"The water are hot", she accused!

"What did you expect"? Putting his arm inside he said, "They are barely warm, stop acting like a baby".

"How did you get them to be warm"?

"Stones taken from the fire, old trick".

She lowered herself again, slowly letting her entire bodey to be submerged. The structure of the barrel forced her to fold her legs to her chest. Despite the inconvenient position she found the new experience pleasant. The water felt like silk around her body wrapping her like a warm blanket. The slave started rubbing her skin gently using a soft object which gave fresh scent.

"Close your eyes mistress.", He dipped a cup inside the barrel.

She found it easier to comply than to argue. Warm water poured from the cup onto her head and neck. He started rubbing her hair with the soft object pouring more water at the same time. "I can easily get used to that" she thought.

"You know you can stop with the mistress stuff, you have earned the right to call me commander. By the way, thanks for saving my ass twice".

"Nice ass commander".

"I've killed men for less".

"I've killed men for nothing", he wasn't bragging, in fact she doubted if he ever did or needed to.

She winced, a piece of the scented stuff entered her mouth, it was bitter. "You are not a pleasure slave, I knew it from the start! Your scars, they are not scars of the whip, they are the scars of a soldier. What's your name anyway".

"Five oh three six".

"I'm getting tired of you being flippant".

"Nonetheless Five oh three six".

"That's ridiculous, it's just a series of numbers."

"It's what I have".

"You need a real name "!

"Why"?

"Everybody has one, You can be Ian, yes I name you Ian".

"Ian", he repeated the name slowly, "Like the first legion commander right ?, I like the sound of it".

"Ian was not just the first commander of the legion, he was, still is a legend". What were you doing in the battle three days ago Ian, you were supposed to stay in the camp".

"Melian took me along, you wanted her to keep a close eye on me".

"I did, though I can't remember informing you of doing so".

"I figured it out though".

"Your psionic"!

"What's that"?

"Don't be an idiot, you used psionic to talk to me near the fire".

"Oh that's what it was. Believe me, I was as much surprised as you were when it happened, nice trick though don't you think".

"You think I'm stupid"?

"Quite the opposite commander".

"How did you know I needed help back at the canyon ambush"?

"Simple, I was watching you the whole time, when it looked like it was getting complicated I asked Raven for help". The gentle hands never once ceased their scrubbing during the entire strange conversation.

"Your Eyes, tell me about your eyes", Yessarian tried to get back to a more logical ground.

"What about them"?

"I never saw a more peculiar set of eyes".

"They are from my mother side of the family, you'll have to ask her about it".

"Your crazy".

"Either that or the rest of the world is fool of loons and I'm the only sane soul", he laughed.

"You talk in riddles, I hate that. I don't think you're a real human at all."

"I'm real enough".

"What are you anyway"?

"I'm Ian".

"Oh shut up".

"I was born a mere human, but was enhanced later".

"Please shut up".

He kept rubbing her back and shoulders in silence. At last he motioned her to stand up, and started drying her hair and body with soft cloth. He did it with a methodical care he have shown in everything else he did, taking care not to miss a wet spot. It felt awkward being waited on, yet far from unpleasant.

"Lay on the furs commander, I'll be right back".

"Where are you going", she was suddenly her suspicious self again.

"I'll be right back".

Annoyed again by his strange behavior Yessarian sat down on the inviting fur, deciding immediately she was not going to wait. She lay her head back letting out a long sigh of relief. Giving a last check through the list of things she needed to do tomorrow she closed her tired Eyes. A soft rustle told her that Ian came back, he was carrying a small bowl.

"What's that"?

"Oil, I warmed it too much so I put it to cool down outside, now turn, I need you on your stomach".

"I need to sleep", she said dryly.

"Indeed you do, but first you need a good body massage, turn around".

Her arguing energies were utterly depleted, lying on her stomach her hands at her sides Yessarian surrendered. Ian Rubbed his hands in oil making a slick unpleasant sound and started massaging her shoulders and neck. His skin had a strange quality, "like silk with iron underneath", she thought, it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. She heard a soft throaty purr like that produced by a contended cat, surprised when she realized it was her own mouth making the it. Something in her burst, a lump which have been a permanent resident in her chest for a very long time cracked, causing a torrent of feeling to sweep her. Tasting a sudden wetness on her cheeks with her tongue Yessarian realized she was crying. Ian probably noticed but had kept his silent for which she was grateful.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me".

"Nothing to regret", his voice was tender and brought fresh tears to her eyes, "You have been under far too much pressure lately for a single person to carry on his own".

"I try so hard, but it's like running into a wall, whatever I do is not enough for them. They would rather have someone like Uhelah. Nothing I accomplish is ever appreciated". There was pain in her voice and she wondered why was she pouring her heart in front of a complete stranger, then decided that she didn't care.

"They damn well should appreciate, you are the best commander the legion ever had".

"Boot licking doesn't becomes you Ian, I don't even come close to the standards of legends like Ian Far sight or Sallem desert scourge".

He was done with her back and was now working on her feet, "I don't know much about legends, though I'm good with numbers. Melian let me read the Legion annuals today. You are by far the best commander this legion ever saw".

"The annuals, they are just a bunch of dates and numbers with few details about contracts, supplies, money and the names of soldiers. Nothing there about the legion commanders".

"One can draw lot's of conclusions from "just a bunch of dates and numbers", it all depends if you know where to look. For instance, did you know that for the last four years the legion had the lowest mortality rate in it's entire existence, while having almost the highest confrontation rate. The only one to outdo you in that field was Kiligar red hands, and he was losing about third of his troops every season. The mortality rate outside battle dropped drastically for the last four years. You hold the record for the highest average income gained per season and."

"Wait", Yessarian turned around, oblivious to the fact she was completely naked, "That can't be true, Osaf noble of Balic is known to have captured the legendary treasure of Ymalc, it was said the treasure was immense".

"Correct, he made a nice stash, he still holds the record for the biggest income gained in a single season, but calculating his average income, even counting the successful season, he turns out pretty lame. Sixth place actually, below Anachin danner, far far below first place, which is occupied by you. By the way, most of the money he gained disappeared from the books, there is no accounting for most of it. I guess your noble Osaf wasn't that noble after all."

"That's a bold lie"!

"Is it? He is not the first actually, Ian the founder liked to stash on the side, Sallem too, many others followed their example. You on the other hand have kept a clean record so far".

"That's hard accusation", the commander voice came up a note and she was blushing with anger.

"Wind Slumber 188^th king age", Ian was reciting from memory his eyes closed, "commander Sallem, Annual supplying at fort Cromlin of house Shom, Four riding Kanks at the price of fifteen thousand four hundred silver. A real bargain don't you agree? Priest contemplation Annual supplying at fort Cromlin seven thousand silver for a Three small furs for military tents, I didn't figure you guys sleep in tents made of gold fleeces". He opened his eyes and smiled "Want me to continue, the list is long but distinguished".

"Shut up"!

"Take any leader this legion ever had on any time scale and you beat him on every aspect. It's all in the numbers Yessarian, the legion never had it better".

"My legionaries don't see it that way".

"People are like that, they suffer from short memories. The past perspective is always lacking. Your heroic idols of old were merely mortals commander, it's a package deal that comes with an array of weaknesses. People will always complain about the present, nothing you can do bout it. Keep on doing what you are best at Yessarian, you have nothing to be ashamed off. Compared to your predecessors, you have much to be proud. Now turn round, I haven't finished with your back side yet".

Yessarian tried hard to manage the amazing torrent of information, but felt it was beyond her at this time of the night when her brain was at a point of near collapse. Ian claims were full of holes. For instance he said to have read the entire annuals today. The annuals were kept in a huge chest and consisted of a few dozen large volumes, one could hardly finish in a month. The fact that a slave was literate in a world where literacy was forbidden to free people was suspicious enough. The commander herself never bothered to learn how to read and write. She would check the annuals tomorrow with Melian.

"You sound so certain, aren't you a bit too confident"?

"It's all there in the"

"Numbers, yes I know, sorry if it's hard for me to except that, but it's your opinion, only someone whose been in a commander shoes can draw such bold assumptions", she turned around believing the argument concluded.

"First of all, let me agree with you, I gave you my opinion as a professional analyzer which is only good with dry numbers, if you want my opinion as a commander well, all I can say from what I've seen so far is that there exists a good potential, you have much to learn though".

She turned again facing him in a snap, "You, commanded men"?

"Why does it sound so impossible"? he asked.

"I don't know, its possible I guess, you're a barrel full of surprises. Were you captured in battle then"?

"What"?

"How long have you been a slave"? For a very smart person he acted extremely dumb sometimes.

"My entire life".

"You're doing it again, nobody gives command post to a slave".

"Nonetheless they did, all of my men, my brothers were slaves".

"Sounds risky".

"You have no idea how much".

"I meant to your masters, weren't your masters taking a big risk letting slaves run things".

"Oh them, no, they were always safe, always unreachable", his face contorted in pain suddenly, his eyes became distant burning fires that sent chills down her spine.

"Just another riddle on top of the pile that surround you Ian", she thought, "I wonder if I'll ever unravel any of them".

"I'm sorry", she whispered.

"You didn't do anything".

"I hit you, twice, it wasn't even you I was mad at. I'm sorry".

"I know".

There was another long awkward silence while Ian massaged her arms and thighs. She felt time stretching melting like wax between her fingers, his touch was always gentle, it sent warm waves from her head down to her toes. Embarrassed by the way her body was reacting to his touch she tried to concentrate on other things besides the exploring hands. She even tried closing her eyes and forcing her mind to sleep, but sudden moistness between her thighs proved it a futile attempt. "Why the hell I'm fighting, just this night why can't I forget about being commander Yessarian desert fox and let myself go". She felt wrong about what she did next but proceeded anyway. Turning around she grabbed him with her good arm pulling his body down into her own.

"You need sleep commander", his whisper was unconvincing.

"I need you, please don't make me beg Ian".

"I need you too Yessarian".

"He even smells sweet", she reflected as she let herself be swept away down steep dunes of ecstasy.

It was still dark outside when Yessarian opened her eyes, the oil lantern was still lit, big black moth was circling it with stubbornness that would have won him medals. She had a small moment of panicked vertigo as to where she was, and whose chest she was laying against. As images of the night occurrences rushed in she smiled and snuggled closer to the sleeping man.

Try as she might he couldn't remember when was the last time she felt so content and free of cares. "It's like a feather, this is to feel like a feather", she decided. "Tomorrow I'll be commander again but tonight I'm feather".

"Your awake", he yawned pressing his arm to into an eye socket, "what time is it"?

"An hour before dawn I'd say, did I wake you up?", she was annoyed actually, it was her own private moment of bliss and tranquility, she resented anyone interrupting, even if it was the person responsible for it.

"What will I do with you Ian"?

"I have confident in your choices commander".

"That's your opinion as an analyzer or an ex commander"?

"As Both", he yawned again. He had white teeth, she never saw a human with such good teeth, they were usually rotten at this age. "What age is that anyway?, he looks about thirty for a human, though he sometimes speak as he were five". "What's your opinion of me as a man Ian"?

"Oh that's easy, I wanted to bed you the first time we met".

She slapped his cheek gently, "and now that you did, what do you think"?

"On a scale of one to ten"?

"Yes", "He sure does like his numbers".

"I'd say six with a promising potential to become seven".

"You son of a bloody Kank", she bit hard as she could into his shoulder with strong teeth, all she managed to draw from him was a throaty laugh.

"Ok Ok, now that I did got you into bed, I wish I would be able to do it more often, satisfied".

"You whish, maybe in a hundred years, six indeed", she turned her back to him in mock anger.

Ian started nibbling her neck, lifting her hair he started with soft kisses down her exposed neck going with maddening slowness into her back, the soft velvet of her ass and between her legs. Moaning in approval she turned letting him reach down her inner thighs and the moistness between them. He Inserted his tongue into her crevice causing her breath to grow heavier, all the time he kept whispering in some foreign language that didn't even sound familiar. Sinking into a sweet orgasm she had a fleeting thought again of the eastern mountains ridge and couldn't in all the world figure why.

"Rise and shine commander, it's almost noon". Melian held a cup full of steaming brew, that made Yessarian's mouth water. She didn't eat anything at the fire yesterday eve, being too strung up to stuff anything. Ian was nowhere in sight.

"Why the bleedin desert sun didn't you wake me earlier".

"Well the slave boy you entertained last night..", started Melian picking her words carefully.

"What about him"? Yessarian already suspected of the answer, but she wanted to hear it from the little woman. Melian was excellent if you felt like being pushy, especially since she knew the red headed officer would never hold it against her.

"He told me you needed the sleep".

"Since when do you take orders from him"?

"It was an advice, and a sound one at that, I can't remember you looking so refreshed", Melian lowered herself to an eye level with her commander peeping into her eyes, "You really look good, I'd say glowing if I were bolder", she smiled cruelly.

"Give me a second to get to my usual grouchy self and I'll show you glowing", taking the cup from the other woman hand she gulped the content in one go. "Oba's tits, but that tasted like Mekillot dudu. Now what did I miss?, Any news from Juhud and his Rippers? Give me the night reports".

"All can wait commander, Lord Kotler is on his way to camp".

"Fuck me, the man in person? what happened ? decided he needed to see some action himself? ".

"Rumors indicate Kotler has obtained some new agreement with the Ketaxzelian, anyway we might find ourselves unemployed soon".

"Peace, just what we need, and when things started to going my way at last", and then loud, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. There is probably not a single soldier in the camp without hangover, Fuck I'll hang them all". Yessarian jumped off her furs and marched towards the tent entrance.

"You might want to dress first commander"!

"Fuck"!

"Either the man is extremely confident or just plain stupid", Raven black hair was glistening with sweat and grease under the unbearable noon sun, his face a mask of annoyance and contempt. He was not the only one sweating, at it's zenith the Athasian sun was as cruel as a sorcerer king and no less deadly. Nonetheless Yessarian couldn't spare her mercenaries the luxury of shade. Their rich employer was approaching carrying news. A display of power was needed. The legionaries were arrayed in neat rows, assembled according to battalions companies and rank. Fully geared they waited, it only made their stay under the blazing sun less endurable.

Yessarian had to agree with her captain, Kotler was performing like a regular pompous ass noble. It was surprising, her previous impressions indicated a much more level headed person. The entourage bearing the red golden banner of the Kotler family was riding far too much close to Red springs fort walls than could be considered safe. Someone might decide to chance his luck and send troops for a swift attack, killing or capturing her employer. In such case she would have to intervene, and she sure didn't relish the chance to fight a match so close to these impending walls.

To her relief nothing happened, either the besieged Ketaxzelian commander was slow or the forces inside weren't arrayed for a snatch and go attacks. The large Inix and their Kank escort cleared the red fort basin and started scaling the southern ridge pass leading to Wyvern camp. Yessarian counted four of the big lizards and at least ten cavalry, one red golden banner displayed a bird of pray, indicating Mualah the hawk, Lord Kotler general presence. Another standard distinguished amongst the others with it's different black and orange colors belonged to Aziz Ampon (nicknamed the angry Kank) Tagster scourge mercenary troop leader. Tagsters were another mercenary group hired by Kotler house. The Angry Kank services were called for on almost a regular basis with the Kotlers, for Yessarian it has been a new experience. "The entire bunch is here, this could not be trivial", she was glad now that she decided to put a formal reception.

The small entourage ascend was exasperatingly slow, they stopped every dozen steps to survey their surrounding. It took them almost half an hour to reach the awaiting legionaries. Yessarian went out to them, escorted by five captains.

"Hail lord Kotler may your house prosper for a thousand years", she made the formal greeting. Yessarian was riding a new mount, a skittish beast she decided to name Fury after her previous beast.

"Hail commander Yessarian, I am much pleased to see you well and about, there were rumors of you being wounded in battle", Lord Kotler was young, in his early twenties possibly. He wore his brown hair cropped short, it was unevenly cut and in some places fell on a fair face. Kotler constantly wore a rascal's smile as if he was mocking the world. She thought him handsome the previous time they met, now she couldn't remember why.

"Merely a scratch my lord, nothing compared to the damage taken by the Ketaxzelians".

"Yes, well we will talk about that in awhile, but first I would like to survey your troops".

They walked passed the rows exchanging pleasantries, Kotler was most interested in the role of every unit in the previous battle, he was most impressed with the heavy cavalry and delayed for ten minutes of idle conversing with Raven. The entire time Yessarian was dying to catch a minute with Ampon as the mercenary commander probably had more knowledge than her about the reasons behind the obscure meeting.

An opportunity presented itself at last. Lord Kotler insisted Raven to give him an actual display of the heavy company charge which gave her the opportunity.

"What's this all about Kank?"

The human mercenary was trying to chill his angry red bald pate with a water soaked rug, "Mualah say the Ketaxzelians offer truce, though I heard it from a second source, the son of an Inix dung tell me nothing".

Yessarian grunted with sympathy. It was no secret Kotler's general saw mercenaries as a very unpleasant necessity, she didn't envy her colleague whom had to work with the Mul on a daily basis. Tagsters sat inside Kotler's main camp, unlike the Wyverns who sat a separate one.

The huge men shrugged his immense shoulders, "My Ian is broader across “, Yessarian suddenly had a satisfying reflection, "It doesn't matter much for me", continued Ampon, "I'm heading south in a month anyway. Got a job offer in Balic, might prove to have an opening for Wyverns too", he smiled good heartedly slapping her with jarring force.

At last Kotler became satisfied or just bored and indicated that the show was over. "Not a moment too soon", thought Yessarian, “he sits shaded on his howdah, while my soldiers dehydrate themselves for his entertainment". She ordered Raven to release the men, giving him permission to provide twice the daily water quota. The entire entourage disembarked near the command tent. Only Yessarian, Ampon and Mualah were allowed to enter though as their employer declared the meeting discreet. Looking very much like a child between his two huge Mul bodyguards Kotler entered the tent last and sat with the rest around a bone carved table made from a Mekillot skull that was prepared in advance. Refreshments were arrayed on one side of it and the entire area map, the forces flags pinned in the right places, sat on the other side.

Someone entered the tent carrying a huge ceramic ewers on a large plate, "I was ordered by Captain Melian to bring you this fine Hilach". His voice had a tremendous effect on her, it brought her immediately the smells and sights from yester eve. Lord Kotler didn't appear bothered by Ian's presence, "and why should he be, we treat our slaves as objects". "Very good”, she stated aloud, "remain here, we need someone to serve on us anyway".

"Thanks commander", he sent her a mental nudge, "I was curious of what's going on".

She gave him a warning glance, hoping none in the room had the skill to eavesdrop on the psionic exchange. Ian was wearing a simple white blouse with the legion symbol, she wondered where did he got it from. Balancing the heavy plate on his left he nimbly poured the wine into four cups. Yessarian couldn't but help to admire the way he just slipped into any role chosen for him with no prior preparations. "I got to stop thinking about him, he is not even mine, he is the legion property. Tonight Ian will sleep with someone else who will pay the most, and there is nothing I can do about it.". Even as she was having these thoughts a feeling of void grew in her stomach as she thought of an empty bed.

Desert mice stuffed with Drajian rice were put on a plate in the middle of the table. Lord Kotler refused the crude cooking, but Ampon was suffering from no such problems, he was stuffing the rodents at an amazing rate.

"Let's go directly to business gents", the noble opened up, "as you all know, my forces have been sitting on their asses trying to crack this muddy shit hole for the past eight months with nothing real to show for our troubles", Yessarian looked at Mualah, the Mul was white with rage from the insult. Apparently the noble was oblivious to the need of keeping good terms with ones men. "This annoying stalemate isn't just causing house Kotler huge expanses, it also prevents it from distributing it's troops into other important assignments". "Luckily this has all changed since commander Yessarian has brilliantly dealt our enemies a decisive strike".

"Your enemies", thought Yessarian, "For me and Ampon they might be employers next month for all we care". She noticed Mualah was eying her with venomous look.

"Apparently it caused house Ketaxzelia to rethink his current situation. We were approached yesterday by agents with an offer of truce. They offer to open fair negotiations for the mine's copper in exchange of lifting the siege. In fact a delegation will be coming here shortly from the fort. By going dangerously close to the walls I was just checking their sincerity, I was well aware of the risk".

"Sounds like a pack of rubbish to me, why would they give up now. They have been sitting there for eight months, what's bothering them to wait eight more"?

"What makes you think they truly intend to negotiate" ? Yessarian voiced Ian mental suspicions, "I mean why so desperate suddenly".

Lord Kotler gave her an annoyed look, "What have I got to loose"?

"Your life you dumb asshole, this smells a trap all over it, they have assembled all the important Eggs in one small basket and they are going to sit on it".

"Whom chose this position Lord Kotler, was it you or the Ketaxzelians"?

Kotler looked disturbed for a second, "it was their suggestion and it sat well with me, since it's my ground. Why? Do you believe there is danger"?

Yessarian was about to answer but was interrupted when suddenly the tent opening flipped open and Mari strode in carrying another decanter full of sloshing liquid. "More wine sent by captain Melian for you commander", the youth bowed humbly.

"I recon you keep a company of handsome slaves. Not unlike your regular noble house". "In my innocent I deemed mercenary life to be rougher", lord Kotler flashed her a smile he might believed was charming.

"Oh yes sorry, I never had the chance to thank your kindness for your present, Mari has been a great service to me as to some of the legionaries".

Lord Kotler's puzzled expression hit her like a mace in the head.

Jumping off her chair, realizing it was already too late she cursed herself for her stupidity.

"I didn't send you any…"

Kotler's words were cut in mid sentence as one of his bodyguards knocked him to the ground covering the smaller man with his own body. The other drew out a menacing club and stood over them ready for action.

"He is a spy", shouted Yessarian at the slim youth, get him.

Ampon jumped, he had a knife in one hand and a cocked crossbow that he extracted from somewhere in the great bulk of his body. Mualah rushed at Mari with a sword. ready for the kill.

Several things happened at once, first there was a loud crunch as Mualah collided with some invisible barrier, then there was a loud tearing sound. A hole appeared in mid air, at it's other side she glimpsed at brown walls of a heavily decorated room. From the hole armed people were rushing out. A muscular Mul, followed by a small man carrying a crossbow, behind them rushing came a huge Mantis man and a fat armored knave.

Using her good arm she drew her iron sword. A punch of fear and despair hit her in the stomach when she saw the last person to enter the room through the hole. Ikarius smiled at her a vicious smile that sent shivers down her spine.

Feeling her brain lose control of her muscles she still had the sense to do the one reasonable thing. Opening her mouth she tried shouting at the top of her lungs in fear and anger for help. No sound came out of her lips, she realized with horror that she didn't have control over her body anymore. Mari had.

The small man bearing the crossbow lifted his weapon and snapped a quick shot. The standing Mul caught the pathetically small arrow on his left arm. By all means he should have shrugged it off, but instead he fell like a stone pillar face down writhing on the ground.

"That one uses poison", shouted Ampon needlessly.

The huge Mantis man cleared the distance between himself and Lord Kotler with one leap. With one mandible he lifted the remaining Mul by the throat breaking the poor bodyguard spine in the process. The Mul died awfully, raining a shower of shit and piss on his lord as he writhed his last. With quickness unaccounted for by his great bulk Ampon slashed the Huge insect's side. The knife found a notch in the Kreen's chitin burrowing almost to the hilt. If there was an effect it only served to enrage the huge insect man. With a flick of its two right wrists he knocked Ampon over the table as if the huge man was no heavier than a pillow.

Yessarian had the sick feeling in her stomach of being locked inside one of her nightmares, only she was not sleeping and there would be no waking up this time. She tried moving an arm to no avail. She knew psionics, until his hold on her would be cut off she wouldn't be able to blink unless Mari allowed her so.

General Mualah was dispatched next, the powerful Mul soldier shrugged off his collision with the magi/psion barrier, he made an attempt to charge the fat assassin and his Mul partner. The Mul assassin, apparently the notorious gladiator Muhalock of Ikarius group, stepped aside the general's unbalanced stroke with ease. Acting almost out of contempt, the fat man swiped circular with his curved sword, capturing the General's skull with a sickening sound.

The bald head top simply sheared off, spraying blood and pieces of brain all over the fat man's blouse.

"Ketechinak, Grab the little lord we are leaving. Kill the rest", Ikarius sounded maddeningly confident. He turned to Yessarian, "We still have an open score to settle commander, I think I'm going to enjoy this one slowly". Acting as if he had the entire time in the world he approached her, swords in both hands.

"Why the bleedin desert males take everything so damn personally?" she thought. Even if she weren't paralyzed by the psion master it wouldn't have been an equal match. It took Ikarius band less than ten seconds to have the tent under control. They were going to take lord Kotler hostage and there was nothing and nobody whom could stop them.

Well, almost nobody.

A tremendous crush like something heavy just shuttered to a thousand pieces made everyone in the tent to turn. Ian has used one of the giant wine ewers as a club braining the Mantis man. A disfigured pulp oozing green slime remained of what was once a functional Kreen head. Without even stopping to look at his handiwork, Ian grabbed the bone table, spilling all content to the floor. Using it as a shield he advanced on the remaining assailants.

His chances didn't look good though.

The Mul assassin Muhalock charged him from the front, Ikarius approached slowly from the right followed cautiously by the fat man, and where was the little poison using guy? Yessarian noticed the little rat look-alike little man trying to sneak unnoticed using the shadows of the tent for cover, he had another arrow cocked now.

"Ian can't just die alone like that, start moving those muscles girl". She felt helpless like never before. Her leg started moving, giving her a fleeting moment of hope only to shatter a second later as she realized It was not her own brain giving commands. Like an outsider she watched with horror as one leg was lifted after the other as a will stronger than hers issued its orders.

Ian on the other hand didn't appear to be suffering from such a problem. He raised the big table as if to strike the Mul assassin, causing Muhalock to falter. Effortlessly, as if he was holding a feather instead of a two hundred pounds table, he threw it sideways. The improvised projectile caught the Rat man in the face just as he was preparing to shoot his arrow, sending him flying into the air with a shattered skull. Muhalock chose that moment to press an attack thinking Ian whom stood now weaponless an easy target.

What followed was too fast for Yessarian to grasp. As a gladiator she was familiar with many forms of hand to hand combat and it's uses. But She never saw or even heard of anyone capable of taking on an armed professional gladiator with no weapon in less than two seconds. It was like a weird dance. Ian sidestepped the sword and jumped inside the Mul's reach. His left arm used as a lever and his right for contra he captured the poor Mul beneath the elbow. An unwholesome crack signaled the pressure extracted was too great on the arm. Muhalock stared for a heartbeat unbelieving at his ruined appendage, exposed bone jutted into the air a horrible testimony for the brutal force used. The assassin didn't managed even to voice a scream as next Ian's left elbow arched high shuttering his windpipe.

Ian extracted the sword from the dying assassin ruined hand, even before the body hit the ground. "You and me now tiger boy", he said and advanced on Ikarius completely ignoring the remaining fat assassin trying to outflank him.

Yessarian felt her sword arm rise, apparently Mari was sending her onto attack. Ian's exposed back was turned towards her, and she realized he wouldn't be expecting an attack from her direction. Assembling her entire will she focused her entire hatred and fear on her own limb. The pressure slackened a bit and then came again, stronger. She didn't despair, and fought back with everything she had.

"That's the second time you intervene in my business slave boy", hissed Ikarius, to Yessarian he didn't sound his usual bold.

"It's also the last tiger boy, nowhere to run this time", Ian voice carried no emotion, like always he wasn't bragging or threatening, only stating a fact as if the fight was already over.

The short exchange gave a enough time for the fat man to circle around his Ian's back. Quiet as a desert mouse he sneaked and lunged forward aiming between the shoulder blades. He only managed to score a nip. Again, faster then an eye blink or a snake strike Ian's En Garde turned into a back hand thrust. With astounding precision the sword wedged itself inside the fat man left eye socket. The most astounding fact about it all was that Ian never once turned his head.

Ikarius lunged with both weapons , Ian dislodged the sword from fatty's skull and gaining force with the momentum he countered. The sword was deflected sideways but the knife managed to go through, puncturing the golden skin.

"So you can bleed demon", Ikarius spat as a red flower spread on the legion shirt painting the crimson wyvern with a more vivid color, "anything that bleeds can be killed".

"True so true, but not so easily, and certainly not today", Ian raised his arm in salute, "make peace with your god Ikarius, you and him are about to meet".

Ikarius fought his best, It was all that was left for him to do, it was far from enough. The assassin had the speed of a tiger, but Ian was faster. Ikarius had inhuman strength, Ian had the power of a Half Giant. Ikarius had a mediocre skill with the sword, Ian was a master. Yessarian tried to compare him to Mikanos, her old weapon master but had to admit he was far better. He went through several foreign fighting styles without breaking sweat. Like performing a weird dance whose steps were known only to him he effortlessly lunged an parried, unhindered by his adversary's use of two blades and unhindered by the wound at his side. Parry, Riposte and then quick Mandritto to the assassin's left cheek, En Garde, Parry Thrust and then a complicated slash and it was all over. The last strike opened a wound in Ikarius body from crotch to sternum.

The new race assassin looked stupidly at the horrendous wound. Dropping his weapons he fell to his knees and tried to stuff his bowels back into his ripped stomach with both hands. Picking the big Iron sword Ian slashed his neck, severing the half human head. Yessarian had a sudden feeling as if a giant stone was removed from her back, trying to move her limbs she found them responding. With a cry of rage she rushed to the corner of the tent in which Mari was cowering. raising her sword for the kill. The Elven youth didn't even try to protect himself, he merely sat in the corner weeping. Yessarian searched her feelings for any trace of compassion but could find none. Her hand came down but was stopped in mid decent as another hand caught her wrist. She tried to shrug it off, but she might as well have tried to pull a Mekillot wagon on her own.

Wait commander", Ian voice was gentle, full of care.

Yessarian turned to him in fury, "You are stepping out of line again pleasure slave", she tried to put as much sarcasm and contempt to the word "pleasure".

The pain in his eyes made her regret immediately, "A door opened is usually a two way passageway Yessarian, Am I not correct Mari?", he almost pleaded with the small Elf mage.

Ampon suddenly sat up in one corner of the room, Yessarian thought he was dead, obviously he was just acting, " Now that is a something you don't see everyday", he coughed and sat down again.

Evening wind was playing with the hair of the proud new Red springs fort master. The keep spotless interior defied the muddy dirty red earth upon which stood its foundation. But Yessarian knew that this dirty earth was the real reason behind these walls. Beneath them lay precious metal, so precious it drove humans and demihumans into generations of bloodshed. The blood spilt today wasn't the legion though. True to his word Mari, former employee of Ikarius, opened a rift in space connecting to a psionic portal in the keep, the same portal Ikarius and his band of marauders used to sneak into the command tent. The legionaries caught the amazed Ketaxzelians with their pants down literarily as most were in their beds. The fort commander surrendered immediately, and it took less than an hour to round up the last strugglers. She will have to give it up to lord Kotler, "Once they finish cleaning him of shite and piss", she mused, but as long as it lasted it was nice being commander of a fort. Anyway by the time she would give the Keys to Kotler it would be a much poorer fort. Already the legionaries were busy with their favorite sport, stripping anything that wasn't nailed to the floor. Besides the regular loot, they already salvaged three carts full of copper. Eight months worth of mining productions. During the siege, the mines operated regularly.

"All in All not bad, I might start believing in