Part I: Enter The_Midlands

Chap. 1

A candle…

A single candle…

A single candle burning bright…

A single candle burning bright in a darkened room. The sounds hushed. The breath moved like a whisper through the ether of the blackness. The exhalation migrated around the flame, settled into the corners of thought. Then the inhalation pulled back about the room, twisted through the fusion of the flicker and ebony.

I stirred from where I sat. I had been there a long time trying to clear my mind, free it from the trap of consciousness. It hadn't worked, and, frankly, my kiester was sore.

I walked to the window and saw a figure collapse on the sidewalk.

I surmised that it was time for me to go to work.

*****

The name is Moonlight, Al_B._Moonlight. This is Chat_World, that place you hear about on the other side of the modem where every malcontent, middle aged soccer mom stuffed like a sausage in leather, and pud puller go these days to kick back, blow off a little steam, and get their hormones straightened.

It is where the dames are all gorgeous, the joes are all dangerous, and the kids will pick your pocket faster than you can your nose. If you have a dream you'll find it in here. Of course, if you have a nightmare it will probably also pop up like my Uncle Elmo in his nightshirt at the girlie show.

Unless you attend one of those technical institutes that they advertise on the tube these days or are fond of keeping the pens in your pocket in a white plastic liner, I supposed you are about as confused as my bookkeeping system. Maybe I should back up like the sink in my kitchen and fill you in a little on the background before rambling on like a bowling ball down a warped alley.

This old world is changing faster than a drag queen at the fifty percent off rack. One of the developments is the ever-emerging computer technologies, that are usually obsolete before they hit the market. Maybe I should have invested a little instead of blowing all of my spare change on the ponies.

Anyway, during this revolution the Internet has exploded like the face of a fourteen-year-old after a trip to the ice cream shop. You can surf the Web, shop the Cyber Malls, and get a lube job over at a porn site. If you can't find it online then you probably don't need it.

Another thing that was taken off on the Internet is the chat rooms. They seem to have proliferated faster than a case of the mange on my dog Arfles. These rooms are where every anti-social Nethanderal with an I.Q. that matches the angle of the slope of his forehead and who can log in and type with at least two fingers goes looking for a good time, a little conversation, and an evening with a dame that wouldn't like at him twice in real life.

Chat is a rather unique place where one can be attempt to be whatever he/she/it wants to be in any type of environment possible. However, the emphasis is on attempt. Despite the fact that the chatters are a rather anonymous lot, and what the rooms are is only limited by the imagination, there are couple of hard fast rules. Who you are when you come in is who you are when you leave, and what you pick up in chat leaves with you.

That may seem as obvious as the moles on my Aunt Millie's face, but you'd be surprised how many try to dodge those facts like I do the collection agency on payday.

So that brings us back to where I was when I started babbling like a brook downstream from the sewage plant, Chat_World, a rather low rent techno-excuse for a good time. The place is about as appealing as my family reunion, but it's where I hang my hat.

One odd thing happened when they made the place. Thoughts and emotions started to flake off the chatters like dandruff off a paraplegic cat. These energies adhered like toothpaste on the bottom of an old sneaker. The result was cyber-beings that became known as "flakes". I'm one of those flakes.

The techs tried to erase us but gave up. The flakes were as hard to eradicate as my Uncle Elmo's ear hair. We also added a little local color to the system, as well as a new underclass to exploit and to blame for the techno-ills that plagued the place.

I used to play piano over in the GenChat Central District in a backwater chat dive called The Tahiti Lounge and ran a detective agency on the side. Then my life changed like the blue plate special at the local beanery. I got entangled with a joe that went by the handle of The_Apothacary.

Actually, it was more than entangled. Apoth and I seemed to have had some sort of connection, a shared directory or life or whatever. I'm not sure. I usually don't read more than the funny papers or the handicaps on the sports page. I just know that whatever I do he seems to have been there first and done it, with his own little twist, of course.

Apoth finally split this crummy little cyburg for somewhere beyond either side of the modem, and I took his place on GenChat's EastEnd. Some joe named Shelley replaced me at the Tahiti. It was supposed to nice and tidy with me moving on someday and Shelley pulling my shoes over his socks. But like my Uncle Elmo always said if there's not a fly in the ointment, someone will drop in a hand grenade.

I took over Apoth's old shop where I taught self-defense, sold herbal remedies, and ran a mah jong game in the backroom. I also was there for those who sought aid. In GenChat it is said that when one needs help, go to the EastEnd and ask for Moonlight. Not terribly original, but did you expect? Mickey Spillane?

As I moved from the window to the door, I speculated that the figure laying outside my establishment either fit that category or had been sipping a little too much at the grog bowl.

I would soon find out.

*****

When I got outside the street was as deserted as my morals on payday. All that remained was the prone shape lying on the sidewalk.

And what a shape it was. She was about my height and built like a platinum crapper. Her long dark hair emphasized the pleasing architecture. She had more curves than a knuckleball pitcher in a hailstorm. I knelt to see if she was okay.

As I helped her sit up, my spine felt the elevator of recognition leap to my brain, open the door, and say all out on the ground floor. I knew the dame. We had worked together before.

"Hello, Raven," I said as I searched my pocket for a coffin nail that wasn't there, "how's tricks?"

"Mr. Moonlight," she replied as she rubbed the back of her head in a manner with which I wished that she was rubbing one of mine. "I had heard you'd moved here."

"Yeah, I had to get out of the high rent district. Say, you don't have an extra smoke do you? I've been trying to quit, and the yellow fingered shakes have got me by the rancheros."

She flipped me a pack, and I greedily tore one out. I searched my pockets desperately for a match.

She continued, "So the fates have brought me once again in your direction. The first time I had my doubts. It seemed that not only were you cowardly, but that during evolution your ancestors were the control group. Still, you did prove to be a valuable ally."

While I attempted to create a flame by rubbing my hands together, I replied, "Thanks, I think. So what brings you to this sorry side town? Slumming it? And where's that boyfriend of yours? I thought you were both locked up in a hell folder."

She let out a sigh that left my eyes riveted to her chest and answered, "There was a bug in the folder, Mr. Moonlight. It left the back door open. I was unable to prevent Electrato from escaping, so I followed to try to stop him from harming anyone."

"So you need help corralling him again?"

"No, I am afraid that this time it is Electrato who needs our help. He has been taken prisoner."

I leaned back against the wall. I waited for her to continue and hoped that she would at least offer me a match.

Chap. 2

A candle…

Another single candle…

Another single candle burning bright…

Another single candle burning bright in a darkened room. The sounds hushed. His breath moved like a harsh whisper through the ether of the blackness. The flame pierced his closed eyelids, stabbed deep into his throbbing brain. The only reason he didn't scream was that the thirst that consumed him like a fiery pyre was even stronger.

How long since he had fed? He no longer knew. His dry tongue licked at his cracked lips in a vain attempt to moisten them. His arms once more struggled against the shackles that held him to wall. Then he went limp. It was of no use. The chains were too strong.

He heard a door open and the sounds of footsteps enter the room. He opened his eyes and attempted to focus on the figures. This, too, was to no avail. Silhouetted in the shadows he could only discern the shapes, not the faces.

A soft voice spoke, tore into where his soul would have been if he had one, and reminded him of his all consuming desire to feed, "I see that you are awake, my friend. I am sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you, but I am afraid that this is the way things must be."

He struggled against his bonds and croaked out a whisper, "Who are you? How dare you imprison Electrato!"

"For now, it does not matter who I am. All that should concern you is that you are aware that you are my prisoner."

Electrato groaned, strained hard in a futile attempt to break his bonds, and whispered harshly, "You will pay dearly for this insult!"

"Perhaps I will, but I doubt it," the shadowy figure replied. "I would like to apologize. You are obviously in need of nourishment; however, at present I am afraid that we cannot allow you to feed."

"Who are you?" Electrato managed to scream.

The figure answered coldly, "You do not want to know the answer. Believe me, you do not want to know."

All emotion had long been burnt and purged from the mind of Electrato. The constant feeding, the ceaseless hunting, the wash of the minds of countless chatters thundering through his body had desensitized him. Until now…

For now he felt fear.

*****

Maybe I need to fill you in on the skinny of the lowdown. Otherwise you'll be as confused as my Uncle Elmo looking for moonshine at the church ice cream social.

There is a corollary to the flake story. Somebody dumped a virus into Chat_World. Whether that individual was a disgruntled employee, a jilted lover, or some pud puller trying to find a new way to get his rancheros off, no one knows and is not really important.

What is important is that any flakes that came in contact with the virus were changed into flake vampires. They feed on the thoughts and emotions of chatters. The virus did not affect chatters, and flake vampires cannot feed on other flakes.

The vampires have their own honor code. They tend to prey only on those who request their services and the lone tech that no one would give a rat's hinny about disappearing. However, occasionally one of the vampires will go rogue and stalk any chatter they desire.

Raven13 was a flake vampire. She lived within their code of honor, but her boyfriend, Electrato, had gone rogue. To make matters worse he was the King of the Flake Vampires. It was only with a little luck and help from some of my friends that we were able to stop him and pull the fat of our backsides out of the fire and back into the frying pan.

Now someone had captured him. Whoever they were, if they could lasso a lug like Electrato then we had about as much chance as a nun shaving ice at a biker's convention. Things did not good for the home team.

*****

We returned to my shop before she continued her story. The nico-dts had me by the rancheros and were doing a pretty good imitation of a vice in the foundry. I was about ready to chew on a chopstick.

Raven lit a coffin nail, inhaled slowly, and continued, "After he escaped I followed him on a hell chase through Chat_World. Every time I came close to finding him he disappeared into the thick of the night.

"Finally, I managed to track him down. He was tired, had not yet fed for the evening. Perhaps that was why he fell prey to them…"

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and managed to squeak out, "Say, you wouldn't have another match would you? I used my last one to light a candle, and it blew out when I opened the door."

She shook her head no and proceeded with her story, "I had recently fed and was able to stop him. Then out of nowhere a pack of shadowy forms appeared. We struggled against them, but with Electrato in a weakened condition it was to no avail.

"Electrato managed to break free for an instant. He raised one of them over his head and threw him into the wall of our adversaries. I slipped out and ran with several of them in pursuit.

"I looked back once to see Electrato kneeling before a figure. I couldn't make out the face, but the body seemed to be floating on a cloud of smoke.

"They pursued me for what seemed like hours, but I managed to allude them. I ran until I collapsed here from exhaustion and exposure to the dawn. "

I paced around the room, attempting to ignore the tingle of my nerves and the sweat that poured from me like a sponge in a bucket, as I said, "Yeah, it is getting light. Do you need to hole up and get some shuteye?"

She shook her head no and answered, "I can survive for a day, perhaps two, if I stay to the shadows. I will be fine for now. Thank you for asking."

I had kept rubbing my hands together and had managed to produce a smolder in my palms. I reached the coffin nail down and was able to get the tip of it to catch fire. I greedily started to suck in the smoke. The first taste reached the center of my mouth.

Suddenly, I saw a wizened hand reach out and grasp mine. A searing pain shot up my arm. As I fell to my knees the agony ran through my body and centered right behind my eyeballs. I felt like a mule in heat had kicked my head.

Through tear filled eyes I spied the one who grabbed me. He was small, about as big as the hopes of a frat boy during finals week. His skin was so wrinkled that he made a prune look smooth. He had long white hair that made mine look clean and well groomed.

I knew him. He was my teacher, The_Really_Old_Guy.

"Al_B._Moonlight," he hissed, "I am…sorely disappointed…in you…"

"Not as sore as I am, pops," I winced. "Could you let go for the love of a marine boot camp drill instructor? I think you've made your point."

"You must learn that you have taken a vow…no smoking…and no women…and I am NOT…your pops…I am your teacher…"

"Okay, okay! Look I admit I did try to sneak the smoke, but the dame's not here to get lubed on my rack. She needs help…ouch!"

"Needs help…"

"Needs help, master. Now will you let go?"

He released his hold, and I fell to floor like a set of arches carrying a load of bricks. I shook my arm but the pain didn't go away. I could tell that I was going to feel this one for a long time.

The_Really_Old_Guy bowed to Raven and said quietly, "I apologize…for my

conduct but he must learn…Often I feel…that if he were any more stupid…he would lose a debate to a rock...”

Raven smiled and replied, "No offense taken. I have dealt with Mr. Moonlight before. If one does stand close enough to him you can hear the operator say ‘Sorry, wrong number’, but he has proven himself useful."

He nodded and said, "Yes…that is so…but cannot even the dog who fetches the paper…tell you the sidewalk is rough…Now tell me, young lady…why do you seek aid…"

While Raven filled him in I went into the bedroom to change. She had just finished when I came out tying my tie.

The_Really_Old_Guy eyed me darkly and said, "Al_B._Moonlight, why do you wear…this? What of the outfit…The_Apothacary left you…"

"Sorry, pops, uh, master," I replied as I slipped on my gray suit coat, "but if I'm going on a case I need my working clothes. Besides, the trousers on that outfit made my boxers ride up."

He sighed and answered, "I see…truly I believe…that when you drank from the fountain of knowledge…you merely dribbled down the front of your shirt…"

"Uh, yeah, whatever. Well, shall we get this puppy rolling down the sidewalk?"

"Where do you suggest…that we start…"

"We some need dope on the scoop. So that means going to my sources, and that means a little trip to the Tahiti Lounge."

He nodded and walked to the door. I let him leave first in respect to his position as my mentor. He would also make a good shield for a bullet. Then I let Raven go ahead of me.

I always liked to walk behind a fine looking dame and watch.

You can't change the spots on an old dog.

Chap. 3

I could never figure out if The_Really_Old_Guy walked everywhere for the exercise or because he was too cheap to spring for trolley fare. Either way my dogs were as sore as a Boy Scout after the troop had played a round of Deliverance.

On top of that it was colder than the brass balls on a well digger’s monkey, and my suit coat was rather threadbare. At least the onset of the flu would make me forget about the coffin nail delirium that shook me like a jitter-bugger that needed a trip to the facilities.

When we opened the door to the Tahiti I was braced for the chat to cover me like a bad bet on the filly in the third race. Instead, the place was as quiet as the backside of a doorknob. I was as surprised as Aunt Millie when she caught Uncle Elmo tweezing his nose hair.

I followed Raven and The_Really_Old_Guy into the room. Frankly, I’d seen livelier morgues on Bingo Night. There were only a few people at the bar. My replacement as lounge pianist, Kid_Shelley, was sitting idly at the keyboard, plunking out Louie Louie with his right hand. In the back of the room, at my old table, I spied a familiar shape. She arose and walked in our direction.

As the figure grew closer I noticed she had more curves than a remedial English teacher’s grade sheet. The form also moved with a sway that leant a new definition to Newton’s 3rd Law of Thermodynamics.

When she appeared in the light I noticed that she had cut her dark hair to collar length. She was wearing her trademark white satin blouse and black leather mini-skirt. The lips, as red as a cherry in the discount bin at the supermarket, was twisted into a grim smile, but the eyes flashed like a Don’t Walk sign.

The dame was Daybreak12. She used to be my boss when I worked here. We had a history that read like some Imperial Roman soap opera. I had also learned there was a lot more to her than met the eye or the tout sheet, and what met the eye was the carriage of one fine looking dame.

“Al_B._Moonlight, of all the sorry gin joints for you to walk into you had to pick mine,” she sneered as she laid a well-placed spike heel against my right temple.

I went down like a quarterback looking for a lost kicking tee. Normally, the pain would have bothered me a lot more, but the nicotine withdrawal was so bad that the new pain gave me something to do besides want to gnaw my foot off.

I sat up gingerly, rubbed the side of my head, and said, “Hi, doll. How’s tricks?”

She pulled me from the floor by my tie and spit in face, “Number 1: You leave here owing me a bundle on your tab; number 2: not only do you leave owing a bundle you clear out the cash register on your way and leave a note about it being an advance on your last check; number 3: after you leave all of the stemware and most of the stock from the backroom are gone…”

“Is that all, sweetheart?”

“No, mister. Number 4: this sorry kiester of a replacement for you is even more pathetic, undependable, and untalented than you were! Look at this place! This used to be a swinging club! Now it’s about as lively as a debate over Fifth Century church rituals!”

“So the kid’s not working out?”

“Read my lips, Moonlight! Both of you are a few chits short of covering the bet in my book!”

“Why don’t you fire him?”

She sighed, let go of me, and sat down at the nearest table. My eyes were riveted on her legs as she crossed them.

She continued, “You know why, Al. It’s my job to watch over you clowns until you take your kiesters out the door…besides…I kinda like the lug.

“So what brings you back here? I didn’t think your teacher let you out to play anymore.”

Before I could answer, The_Really_Old_Guy pushed in front of me, bowed, and said, “He is not here for frivolity…we are here to help this young lady…on a mission that bodes ill…for all of Chat_World…”

Daybreak’s face lightened as she stood up, took hold of his hands, and said quietly, “The_Really_Old_Guy, I didn’t see you behind that piece of weasel bait. How are you? What brings you here? Have you heard anything from Apoth?”

He bowed slightly and answered, “It is always good…to see you…my dear…I am well as a man…of 830…can be…And as I said we are on a mission…And no sadly…there is no word from The_Apothacary…”

Daybreak sighed and said, “I figured as much. Still I…Raven…didn’t see you were with them…”

Raven stepped forward and replied, “Be at ease, Daybreak. There is a truce between us…for now. Electrato has been taken prisoner.”

“Wow! Then what are you doing here?”

My craw was about full of the family reunion good time society, so I butted in like a clubfooted cop with a broken nightstick, “We need some skinny, so I came looking for the lowdown. Is Cubby here?”

Daybreak pointed to a pudgy figure slumped over the bar next to a rather attractive young skirt and grumbled, “If you can get him out of his stupor you can talk to him.”

“Cubby been slapping the sauce a little hard?” I inquired as I edged slowly away from her.

“Yeah. After you left he couldn’t get a story to beat a pig in the poker game. The Tattler fired him, and he’s taken up residence leaning against the bar. I move him every so often to keep the varnish from wearing off.

“And Al? You’ll be getting a call from my lawyer if you don’t return some stuff and/or ante up what you owe. And to think I was starting to like you…”

“Uh, Day, it’s the phone,” Frank_the_Bartender interrupted like a mouse tripping over a field of landmines.

“Tell them to call back.”

“He says it’s important.”

“Tell him I’m doing laundry!”

“He says he can meet you at Luigi’s_Laundromat.”

“Tell him he doesn’t understand. When I do laundry I go down to the river and beat it out on the rocks!”

While Daybreak tried to avoid the phone call, I walked over the bar. Cub_Reporter was my main source of dirt in GenChat. However, at the moment he looked like about the only thing he knew was that he had no idea where his next drink was coming from.

“How’s it going, Cubby?” I asked as I ordered a mineral water.

“Al!” Cubby beamed like a broken headlight. “When did you come in?”

“Little while ago. How goes the war?”

“Two outs in the bottom of the ninth, third and seventeen, four lengths behind in the fifth race, down by one with nine seconds left and the All-American guard is driving toward me with the ball. The usual. You heard I’ve gone independent?”

“Yeah, Daybreak told me.”

“It sucks like a Hoover, Al. I worked for that paper for years. Now they’ve sent me out to the Back Forty to be shot and put out to pasture.”

“That’s too bad, Cubby. What’s your poison? I’m buying. I also need some inside dope on a case.”

Cubby ordered a whiskey and beer chaser. He downed the whiskey and proceeded to cry in the beer. He nodded for me to continue.

I slipped a cyber-jackson that I had lifted from The_Really_Old_Guy’s pouch into Cubby's shirt pocket and asked, “You heard any skinny about flake vampires or other such ilk?”

Cubby scratched his incredibly greasy hair, wiped his hand on his shirt, and replied, “You know…there have been some strange things happening. Not vampires, but there have been some odd characters running in and out of The_Midlands. You might want to check that out. You used to live there didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s another anthology I don’t feel like looking up in the card catalog right now. Catch you around the rooms, Cubby.”

“Sure, Al. Say, will you keep me in on this one? I need a story bad. I’m so broke I’m about ready to start shagging chatters in the men’s room for quarters.”

I nodded and was ready to walk away when I heard a voice behind me exclaim, “Ohmygawd, like, is that Al_B._Moonlight?”

I turned to see one incredible dame in front of me. She was a little taller than me, but she was wearing a pair of platforms that were so high she could have reached the thirteenth floor without the elevator. I found myself staring eye level at a set that made you forget about the school trip to Mt. Rushmore.

I sipped my mineral water and answered, “Sure, doll, but I don’t think I know you.”

“Duh,” she replied with a voice that a joe would have killed for to have laying in his lap, “of course not, dude. Like, I never have, you know, met you. I just saw you on the underground radio.”

“Oh yeah, the interview with Rosetta_Stone on the Voice of Infernal Chat. You liked that one, sister?”

She had long dark hair, and one of those carriages that made you want to take the pony out to the park for a run. She was wearing a tight black polyester jump suit that made you want to dress like the Disco King and grind with her under the blacklight until you got to the bedroom. Every time she inhaled, I got whiplash.

She sipped her drink and continued, “Oh, I thought, like, you know, that you were so totally cute.”

I cringed while I watched her ruby red lips wrap around the straw and said, “Cute, huh? Never thought of myself as cute. Isn’t cute what you call your kid brother and his science project?”

She smiled and replied, “Well, maybe we’ll, like, have to clean your test tubes some time, totally, you know?”

“Ah, you got, moxie. I like a dame with moxie.”

“Honey, like, I don’t have moxie. I am MOxie.”

“Well, it’s been fun, sweetheart, but I’ve got a case. Maybe we can meet up later.”

“Fer sure. I am totally into retro, and, you know, you are about as retro as it gets.”

“Uh, thanks, I think. Catch you around the rooms, doll.”

“Say, ohmygawd, I have an idea. I am as brilliant as I am self-assured, you know. Why don’t I go along on this case with you. It would be, oh, so totally kewl.”

“I don’t think that would be a good…”

I never finished the sentence. Once again I noticed a searing pain in my right hand that ran up my arm and beat my eyeballs like a cattle prod up the kiester. The_Really_Old_Guy had me again. I either I had to learn how he did that or find a defense against it.

He bowed slightly and said, “You must forgive the impertinence of my young friend…Sometimes he seems to not have…all of his dogs in the same kennel…

“Normally…I would agree with him…but if his chi was not so clouded…by his testosterone…he would see that you would be…most helpful…on this mission…”

“Ohmygawd! You mean I can go? So that is so totally kewl. Let me run to the ATM first!”

As my eyes cleared of the sweat and tears I watched her walk to the door with a sway that made me forget about the pain in my arm and concentrate on the one growing in my pants. She was one fine looking dame.

Between Raven and her, the scenery was going to be pleasant, quite pleasant indeed.

Chap. 4

We stared through the open door. As far as you could see the hills rolled in a gentle sway, the grasslands dotted with groves of trees. The expanse was so green that it was almost black and nearly hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long. Just inside stood a worn wooden sign that read Welcome to The_Midlands.

We entered and were immediately assaulted by a wave of heat. The air was as humid as my skivvies after a good workout. The breeze carried the scent of the richness of the soil. I sneezed. Not only did I have the yellow-fingered shakes; my allergies were acting up, too.

Raven turned to me and quietly inquired, “Where, now, Mr. Moonlight?”

I wiped the sweat from my face onto the front of my shirt and replied, “To get around in here, we’ll need a tracker. We might find one near that river over there.”

“You seem to know this place well.”

“I grew up here.”

She nodded, turned, and walked in the direction I pointed. I waited for The_Really_Old_Guy and MOxie to go first. I just wanted to follow her and watch.

When we arrived, I stopped and looked around, buried in a sea of memory. I had played along this bank when I was a child, had camped out here. My first private encounter with a dame had happened at this very spot, several times.

Suddenly, I heard a rustle from the brush. Instinctively, my hand reached in my right pocket and wrapped around the roll of quarters I always carried for playing the slots. I studied martial arts with The_Really_Old_Guy, but at a time like this I was more comfortable with the tried and true methods.

A figure emerged, and my hand relaxed. I knew him, knew him well. He was about my height with a chest like a beer keg and the rest of the physique to match. His long stringy hair wafted in the breeze. When he saw me, his grip relaxed from the hilt of his broad blade, and his eyes, which belayed the fact he was some genetic throwback to a time of skullduggery that his family would rather forget, beamed a smile.

Garth_Ebony strode forward, grasped my arm, and bellowed, “Al_B._Moonlight. It has been too long, far too long, old friend!”

I winced and answered, “Yes, Garth, it has.”

“So who do you bring in this coterie of yours? The females I do not recognize, though I would like to in a Biblical sense, but, say, is that not The_Really_Old_Guy?”

My mentor stepped forward and clasped arms with Garth. I had no idea that they knew each other, but then little that The_Really_Old_Guy did surprised me anymore.

The old man said, “Yes…my friend Garth…it is I…We have come on a mission…of dire consequence…for the very existence…of The_Midlands…and of Chat_World…”

Before he could continue or Garth could reply several large creatures emerged from the brush and attacked us.

Garth brandished his broad blade and hissed, “Sloths!”

*****

When sloths are mentioned most people think of those creatures that hang in trees and eat leaves all day, evidencing about as much energy as a football team hanging out in the dorm the morning after a kegger. However, in The_Midlands it is a different shoe tree holding a different pair of loafers.

When the room was created it was one pretty nice place where you could take the family for a Sunday stroll or out for an ice cream cone. I guess that was too much for the techs. They hate to see people have too much fun.

So they introduced an evil wizard, Blübard. Blübard immediately erected Fier Mountain, a volcano, as his lair. It did nothing to help the property values of the place. His second act, like any good villain, was to seek henchmen.

At first he did the usual thing, placed ads in the local newspaper, advertised on the Internet, etc., but he was not satisfied with the quality of most of the recruits. I wasn’t surprised. There was stiff competition from other gangs, and, frankly, his benefit package sucked like a sour lemon.

So he started kidnapping chatters and flakes. He turned them into the foul creatures that we now faced. In The_Midlands sloths were the size of a gorilla, acted like an orangutan with a bad attitude, and smelled like a junior high locker room.

*****

There were ten of them and five of us. They charged us like an overdrawn credit card. I knew Garth, the old man, and Raven could hold their own. MOxie would just have to show us if she could cut the mustard with the butter.

Garth sidestepped the first one and plunged his broad blade deep into the creature. He let the second roll over his back, smacking its left temple with the hilt of his sword. The_Really_Old_Guy immediately flipped one over his shoulder, taking out its right kidney on the way by. He turned and flattened a second one with a chop to the chest.

Meanwhile, the skirts were holding their own. Raven moved faster than buttermilk through a bout of Montezuma’s revenge. She head butted one and turned to rip the heart from a second. MOxie surprised me with her agility and savage attack, grinding the sloth that dared confront her into pabulum. Watching that platform move was one fine sight.

I turned to face the three that lunged for me. As I wrapped my fingers around the roll of quarters, I ducked under the reach of the first one. I took him out at the kneecaps with a hard punch. As he fell I slammed a well-placed fist into his throat.

I dropped the quarters and grabbed a large tree limb that was lying beside me like a conveniently contrived plot device. I pushed it into the gut of the second one that jumped for me. Then I stood and gave him a Louisville love tap across the face. He went down like the curtain at a bad play.

However, the third one smacked me up side the head before I could turn to face him. As I fell I heard the charge of the beast from behind me. I rolled over, knowing I couldn’t get out of the way.

Suddenly, MOxie came flying in like a businessman on a holiday, and placed her platform heel against the side of its head. The sloth stopped in its tracks. I noticed a sword protruding through its stomach. Garth quickly withdrew his blade. The creature fell like a weight lifter with a bad arches.

I turned in amazement to the smiling MOxie who said, “I’ve, like, been studying Tae Kwon Do for years, you know. Darn, I chipped a nail!”

Garth helped me to my feet as we stared grimly into each other’s eyes.

Through clenched teeth he whispered, “Sloths…”

I continued his sentence, “…which can only mean…”

“Blübard…”

“…is at the bottom of the dog pile…”

“Say, like do you dudes, always finish each other’s sentences?” MOxie butted in, “I think that’s totally rad.”

I ignored her bantering and whispered harshly to Garth, “If he is behind this, we will need help.”

“Should I muster the Rangers?” Garth asked.

“No, not yet. We’ll keep them for the ace in the hole up our sleeves. For now, however, I think we can use a second tracker.”

“Yoiks, man, do you mean?”

“Yes, my friend, I think it’s time I go pay a visit to Uncle Elmo.”

Chap. 5

It was a small house, gray paint peeling from the sideboards, the windows desperately in need of caulking. The yard was scraggly, a lot of junk lying around, holes dug by who or god knows what. The effect was like a DMZ in some Third World condo district. It was good to see the place hadn’t changed.

I stood for a long time staring at the house. This was my childhood home. Uncle Elmo and Aunt Millie had taken my twin brother, Willie, and me from the GenChat Flake Orphanage as our temporary foster parents. We wound up staying until Willie ran off after he robbed the gas station, and I went away to junior college on a pinball scholarship.

The memories flowed over me like tar on a hot tin spatula. I remembered the baseball games, wrestling, and playing cult killer in this yard with my brother. I also recalled giving Uncle Elmo a soapy sponge bath while he wore his smiley face mask. I shuddered. I didn’t want to go there…

I finally screwed up my courage like a metal cap on a cheap bottle of wine and walked to the door. I could hear someone moving inside. The aroma of fried carp, unwashed socks, and the slop bucket in the kitchen wafted through the torn screen. Yes, I could see things hadn’t changed much in these parts.

I knocked on the door and waited. A large bear of a very filthy man with at least four days growth on his face peered out through the screen. He was wearing a greasy pair of bibs over the long johns he changed only on Decoration Day. He had enough eczema to be Frosty the Snowman’s stunt double. He was my Uncle Elmo.

“Land tarnation ’o sakes! Is that ya Alboy?” his voice rumbled like a ‘49 Chevy in need of valve job. “Why didn’t you tell us ya wuz cumin’? We would’a fixed a fresh mess of carp. Come on in!”

I tried to breathe through my mouth as I followed him. He offered me a seat on the couch, but one look and I decided to stand. Who knew what it was on the sofa, how long it had been there, or how long ago it had died.

“Ya should’a let us knowed, boy,” he rumbled on. “Yer Aunt Millie ain’t here. She went over to Parsons Droobles fer one’a her Ecumenical sessions. Said she needed to werk on her kneelin’. Ah’ll jest call over now and git her. She’d be pleased as pig pee to see ya.”

I reached for the coffin nail that wasn’t in my pocket and answered, “No time for that, Uncle Elmo. I’m on a case, and well, I need your help.”

He squinted, rubbed his stubbled chin, and replied, “Ya need mah help? Ya, the big junior college gradgit Mr. Know-it-all pianie player?”

“Yes, Uncle Elmo. We need a second tracker. I’ve got Garth, and we all know you’re the best in The_Midlands.”

“Ah don’t werk cheap, boy.”

“Uncle Elmo, this isn’t a normal case.”

“Which ones are with ya involved?”

“Chat_World is in peril.”

“’course would give ya the five purcint family discount.”

“It could be the end of the world as we know it.”

“Eight purcint and that’s mah best offer. Cash up front, ’course.”

I sighed and agreed.

“Ya sure ya can afford it, boy? Ah don’t take no cridit cards or no checks. How ya gonna pay fer it on yer pianie salary?”

“I’ve got a new business, Uncle Elmo. Don’t worry, we’ll cover your spread.”

“Then we’ll be headin’ out. Now where’d Ah put mah rucksack? Last time I recollect yer Aunt Millie wuz usin’ it tah empty the slop buckit…”

I went out and leaned against a pillar on the porch. It was going to be a long day, a very long day.

*****

When we returned to Garth’s camp, we found everyone resting in his or her own particular way. Our host has honing his broad blade in preparation for our journey. Raven reclined against a tree, conserving her energy in the shade. The_Really_Old_Guy levitated three feet off the ground in meditation. MOxie attempted to repair her broken nail.

Garth nodded to me, trained his steely gaze on Uncle Elmo, and said quietly, “Greetings, Elmo. Our paths have not crossed in recent times.”

Uncle Elmo replied in a growl that sounded like a Mastiff digesting three-day-old road kill, “Howdy, Garth. No Ah ain’t been out much lately. Tore up a muscle pokin’ with the constable's wife.

“Tarnation, boy, ain’t ya ever gunna cut that hair? Makes ya look lak sum girlie man. And speakin’ of the girlies, who’er the two skirts over there? Nuff to make a man wanna clean his wick on the brush, ya know.”

I stepped between Uncle Elmo and the dames. I had no idea who would win a knock down drag between them, but now was not the time or place to find out.

“You will have to excuse my uncle,” I said, “his grain hopper might not be filled all the way to the top, but he’s the best tracker in here. If we want to find Electrato, he’s the one who can get the job done.”

Raven stared through slitted eyes and said grimly, “Your uncle, Mr. Moonlight? Now I understand why the brie appears to have slid off your cracker and under someone's shoe. Still, if we need him, then I will tolerate his presence.”

MOxie batted her eyelashes and purred, “Like, you know, I totally don’t mind. I think that older men are, oh, so hot, you know.”

“Really_Old_Guy is that you?” Uncle Elmo thundered like a bad bowel movement. “I ain’t seen yer hide in a coon’s age! Ya got any of that pipe weed with ya?”

“I have my pouch, Elmo. You care for a smoke before we go?” Garth asked, noticeably brightening.

“Do wild bears hump a bag ’o sawdust? ’course, I do, boy! Really_Old_Guy, git yer scrawny lil kiester over here! Al, ya gonna join us?”

“Uncle Elmo, you know I quit that when I gave up the booze,” I replied as the three of them lit up a pipe.

“Ah know, boy. Ya can be real can be a real disappoint to the family tree sometimes. Ah swear yer the girlie man.”

I sighed and wandered away from the camp. I hadn’t been tempted to use the stuff in years, but without my coffin nails I felt as raw the backside of a squirrel on a sheet of sandpaper.

I waited until I figured that they had finished and started back to the campsite. Suddenly, I felt hands grab me from behind. I noticed that the nails were long and red. I was spun around into a mouth who’s tongue moved in directions that I didn’t think was humanly possible.

“Like, you know, this is so totally kewl,” MOxie purred as she unbuttoned my shirt. “I don’t, like, you know, understand it, Al. I know you are, oh, so undependable, uncaring, self-centered, and, you know, really could use a shower, but, like, I can’t leave my hands off of you. Ohmygawd, yes, there!”

I replied by stripping her faster than a beaver with a paintbrush.

At the moment I didn’t care about my vow.

Al_B._Moonlight had needs, too.

Chap. 6

I gave MOxie a few minutes head start and then slunk back into camp like a skunk with its tail between its legs, braced for another nerve pressure point session from The_Really_Old_Guy.

However, I had not reckoned on the tranquilizing effects of the pipeweed on the old coot. Garth, Uncle Elmo, and he were too busy raiding the larder to notice if anyone had come or gone. I quickly pulled my shirttail from my fly and zipped up before they noticed.

“There you are, friend Al,” Garth said with a conspiratorial wink. “Out sharpening the ol’ blade again?”

“Uh, just beating the bushes, Garth,” I stammered hoping The_Really_Old_Guy was still too busy stuffing his gullet to pay attention to our conversation.

“Yea, there is some rather pleasant foliage in these parts. A man could get lost in a valley for hours,” he said while admiring MOxie as she bent over.

“So where do we start?” I asked trying to change the subject like a school marm putting a new noun in front of an old adverb.

“Well, let me get out my map, and we’ll see.”

The others joined us as Garth unrolled his hand drawn map of The_Midlands. Raven and MOxie bent over, studying it intently. Between those two carriages it was hard for me to keep my mind above my belt line.

I turned to ponder Garth’s weather chiseled face. The lines on it told the story of many triumphs, disappointments, adventures, quests, and trips to the inns and brothels along his journey. How long had I known this stalwart figure?

My mind started to drift, like I was going into some well contrived flashback where the author would fill in the reader and pad a few paragraphs in case he was going to get paid by the word…

*****

I had met Garth at the city of Uni. He was a student at The Citadel, the local academy. I was playing piano in a ditch water dive, Stubs Abusement Hall.

I never would forget the first time I saw him. He came into Stubs with a friend. He ordered a side of venison, the leg of an ox, three pounds of jerky, and a barrel of ale. Then he turned to his friend and asked him if he would like anything.

Garth and I quickly became pals, prowling the alleys and gutters of fair Uni in search of adventure and wenches, mostly wenches. I became familiar first hand with Garth’s legendary appetite for both, as my head that pounded many a morning like a bass drum at a wiffle ball game would attest.

Garth left The Citadel and acquired employment at the Iron Works of nearby Lu. Again the stories grew of the prowess of his courage, his strength, and his pursuit of the wenches, mostly the wenches.

Eventually, he joined the Rangers, a plucky band sworn to uphold the law, protect the innocent, and drain every tankard between here and the Lost Mountains. The legends continued to grow of Garth’s pursuit of justice and of the wenches, mainly the wenches.

I lost the gig at Stubs and wandered off onto new journeys of my own. I finally left The_Midlands. We kept in touch, usually just a line and a card on Bastille Day. Still, when ours paths did cross, it usually meant something was rotting in the compost heap under the woodpile, and it was also like we had never been apart.

If you ever found yourself in a tough spot somewhere between the tree without a paddle and up a canoe near a hard place, you couldn’t ask for a better joe to cover your backside than Garth_Ebony.

*****

MOxie broke the silence by asking, “Oh, like, did you draw this yourself? It’s, oh, so totally kewl. I, like, have an AA in interior design, you know.”

“Any ideas where we should start?” Raven asked quietly.

“The judges are out totaling up the score of the swimsuit competition on that one, Raven,” I replied.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s up to Garth and Uncle Elmo. They’re the trackers, and they know this area better than the wrinkles on Aunt Millie’s fanny.”

Uncle Elmo thoughtfully scratched the stubble on his chin and asked, “Wall, Garth, what ya think, boy?”

“Well, they could have made for Fier Mountain. It is Blübard’s liar.” Garth answered.

“Yepper. That is a possibility. ’course Ah always said a groundhog weren’t hide all its radishes in the same wombat hole.”

“Which means?”

“Wall, that Blübard’s gots more hidin’ holes in these parts than Parson Droobles gots visits to the pharmiecist fer penercillin. He grabbed that vampire fellah, so he probably don’t want to tote him any ferther than he had to.

“He’s got a few holes dug out fer hisself up ‘tween Silver Mountain and Hak. I say we go look thar furst.”

“Point well taken, Elmo,” Garth said as he rolled up his map and put it back in his rucksack.

“So when do we start?” Raven asked.

“First, we need to restock supplies. The larder seems a little low. Wonder what happened to everything?” Garth answered.

“Oh, yeah,” MOxie chimed in like a bell with its clapper missing. “I, like, could use a diet soda. Where do we go?”

“We have two choices,” Garth replied, “there would be the merchant village of Nodrah or the city of Kuk.”

“Kuk!” Uncle Elmo roared like a bull caught on a barbwire fence, “Ah cin smell those cat houses now!”

“Then Nodrah it is,” I interjected before Uncle Elmo could rope anyone else into his latest round of philandering.

“Ah swear, yer’re jist a wet blanket stuck in the mud, boy. Ya won’t let yer ol’ uncle have any fun.”

“Sorry, Uncle Elmo, but we need to keep moving. Besides, after I paid you I don’t have enough left to bail you out of the slammer.”

“Who sez Ah’m goin’ to the slammer?”

“Uncle Elmo, remember your last trip to Kuk? The bald headed guy, his wife, their donkey, and the pool table? If I remember right the constable said something about the sun never setting or rising or shining on your fat ugly carcass in that town again.”

“Yer’re right as a gully warsher in a mud hole, boy. C’mon. Maybe Ah cin find sumthin’ to oil the privates in Nodrah.”

We broke camp with Garth in the lead. The rest of us fought over who was going to walk behind the dames.

Chap. 7

North of Kuk, nestled along the Plum Tuckered Creek you’ll find the merchant farming village of Nodrah. It’s one of those backwater locales where the residents are barely above marrying their first cousins. You could have held a meeting of the local Rhodes scholars in a telephone booth.

If you look at a map of The_Midlands you’ll notice there are three places that end with “rah”. It is no coincidence. They are the so-called Cities of Rah, overseen by the Rah Priests. Many pilgrims travel to these towns to worship at the Rah Shrines, to be gouged by shady merchants and tour guides, and to have their pockets picked by the local children.

No one knew what the Rah Priests truly were, where they came from, or why they chose The_Midlands. Dressed in olive green ponchos and facemasks, they just appeared one day in the room and set up shop.

The Rah priests claimed to be the teachers of the Another Way. Whatever you did, there was always another way. They taught that every joe puts on his skivvies one leg hole at a time like the next joe and to do unto others while the cops have their backs turned. They asked little of the residents except for fifteen per cent of the local take.

My watch said 8:30 when we walked in the south entrance of Nodrah, which didn’t mean much because it is always 8:30 in Chat_World. It’s just one of those odd unexplained things about the place.

The local constable stopped us and asked for some identification. He was more than satisfied with the cyber-jackson that Garth produced.

Garth looked at me and said, “I can handle getting the supplies. Then I have to stop by the pipeweed shop. I seem to be a little low. Why don’t you go over to the Cheap_But_Quick and order us some grub?”

“Sure thing, Garth,” I replied, “what do you want?”

“Oh, a side of bacon, two 3 inch steaks, a couple of water fowls, three pounds of sausage, and a barrel of ale.”

“Is that all?”

“Yea, I need but a light snack.”

We wandered into the Cheap_But_Quick. The place was about as greasy as a spoon could get. The food was bad, the service was lousy, but it was cheap…and quick…

I placed Garth’s order. Raven asked for a glass of water and a bottle of ketchup, The_Really_Old_Guy chose rice pilaf, Uncle Elmo wanted the blue plate special, and MOxie requested a salad and a diet soda. I got myself a cup of java, black.

While the others ate, I sipped on my coffee, trying not to notice the lipstick stain on the rim of the cup. My eyes wandered the room idly like a hitchhiker looking at a road map in a traffic jam. In the kitchen I caught a glimpse of someone familiar.

“I’ll be back in a minute. I gotta go see a man about a database,” I said, as I stood and walked toward the counter.

In one of my other adventures I had encountered a very strange character that went by the handle of The_Cook. Rumor had it that he once had taken over an estate through his culinary arts. He starved those in his way and fattened up others into docility. In the end his former employers worked for him after he had married their daughter.

However, the man was a glutton. His eating habits made Garth look like a member of the Weight Watchers Society. He lost everything and wound up in the Central District of GenChat.

I had caught him in some shady dealings and had booted him faster than a frozen Pentium. I hadn’t thought about him in a long time.

“Hi, Cookie, how’s tricks?” I asked as I ambled into the kitchen.

He dropped a pan, picked up a butcher knife, and backed slowly away from me with a look of terror that rivaled Bambi’s mother.

“W-what are y-you d-doing here?” he squeaked like a rusty doorknob.

“Put a truss on it, Cookie,” I answered, “I’ve got bigger hush puppies to fry than you. Besides, when I kicked your kiester out of the Central District I told you to get as far away as possible. I think this hell hole qualifies for the endowment check.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked, relaxing slightly but still holding onto the knife.

I picked up a toothpick and replied, “Just looking for some dope on the pinto in the sixth, Cookie. You seen anything odd of late?”

“Here? You ask me if I’ve seen anything odd here?”

“Okay, fair enough. You seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, a few days ago some men came through. They had a large wagon with a locked casket on it. There was scratching and howling from the sarcophagus. The constable questioned them, but he seemed to think that the cyber-jackson they handed him meant their credentials were in order.”

“Anything else?”

“I was curious so I followed them for a little ways. It was dusk and hard to see, but I could have sworn they were joined by a band of sloths.”

“Which way did they head?”

“North, into the Wyldes between here and Hak.”

“Thanks, Cookie, catch your around the rooms,” I said as I fished the change from his tip jar and wandered back to the table.

Garth had joined the others and had just finished eating. He was looking at the desert menu.

“Garth, I just got some skinny on the dope. Seems a wrecking crew came through here the other day with a casket on a wagon.” I said as I fingered a packet of crackers. “They were joined by some sloths and headed off north.”

“Yoiks, Al. I better get the rest to go,” Garth sighed.

We paid the cashier and left a modest tip on the table. Then we headed back to pick up the supplies.

“Al_B._Moonlight!” I heard a voice snarl behind me. “I told you’d be dog meat on white toast if you ever showed your ugly kiester around here again!”

We turned to see a local unruly mob confront us. Most of them held pitchforks and torches, which was odd since it was still daylight.

“Like, are these fans of yours, Al?” MOxie asked.

“Uh, I’ve had a few differences with the locals around here. I thought it was the bath water under the bridge with the baby, but I guess they hold a grudge in these parts longer than a panda holds its gas,” I answered as I wrapped my hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket.

“How many do you think there are, Garth?” I asked.

“I count twenty,” he said as he drew his broad blade.

“What do you think?”

“I would say it was even odds.”

Chap. 8

I had no idea why the mob was on us like ugly on a junkyard hog. I had burnt a few too many bridges before I had crossed them in these parts. Maybe it had to do with some farmer’s daughter, maybe it had to do with the funds missing from the local treasury, or maybe any of a number of other things. All that mattered was that some Bubba the size of a hay bailer was swinging a garden hoe at me.

I ducked under his swing and came up with my right fist postulating a knuckle corollary on his jaw. He went down like a bad debate at lunch. I snaked out my left foot and tripped a second one. As he fell I slammed my open left palm up under his chin. These lugs were big, but they were about as fast as frozen spit on a stick and tended to have jaws like a glass outhouse.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Garth. Three had jumped him and were trying to pin him down like a district attorney grills a character witness. They looked pretty smug until they realized that none of them had their feet on the ground. Garth flung them against a wall like they were yesterday’s leftovers. I noticed that he had put away his broad blade. He didn’t have the heart to run the simple yeoman through, no matter how inbred they were.

Uncle Elmo waded into the throng like a rummie possessed with getting to the front of the lottery line. I had never met a stronger man or a dirtier fighter. After he finished with those who dared attack him, they either needed a visit to the optometrist or could hit E over High C.

The mob relaxed as they approached The_Really_Old_Guy, which was a big mistake. He may have been small but the joe was meaner than a consumptive badger. He laid them out like a stacked deck of cards.

And speaking of stacked, MOxie was again laying waste to those who dared attack her. The combination of her lethal heels and pepper spray left many a local crying in his spilled soup. Watching that form of hers in action was one fine sight.

However, Raven was having a hard time. She had not fed and had spent too much time in the daylight. It was all she could do to grind two of them into pork brisket. Her attackers soon engulfed her.

I slammed the one between Raven and me with a well-timed kidney punch. He went down like a duck after a golf ball. Raven pushed two in my direction. As they turned I hit one of them with the roundhouse kick The_Really_Old_Guy had been demonstrating of late on my face. I Sunday punched the other with my right hand wrapped around the roll of quarters.

Raven managed to crawl through the rest of them with some well-placed rakes of her nails. The local plastic surgeon was going to be booked solid for weeks to come.

The mob may have been a group who couldn’t swallow and breathe at the same time, but even they could see where the odds were stacked in this ruckus. They turned and ran like a bricklayer trying to find the urinal.

I knelt by Raven, brushed the hair from her face, and asked quietly, “You okay, sister?”

She replied, “No, I am not…Al. It has been too long since I fed. You must complete the mission without me.”

“I don’t think so, Raven. Hold on to your jockeys. I’ll be right back.”

I stepped through the pile of bodies looking for the one I spied during the fight. I found Whort_Horston trying to hide under a couple of his unconscious buds. I smiled grimly as I grabbed him by the hair. A memory flashed in my mind like a set of headlights before you hit the brick wall.

I had grown up with Whort. He was the son of a chatter who had moved to Nodrah. Whort terrorized everyone smaller than him. He left Willie and me alone because of Uncle Elmo and because of the knives we always carried, but it had always stuck in my craw what he did to the little kids. Al_B._Moonlight never had any use for bullies.

I heard that after he grew up Whort continued with his vile ways. The only thing that kept him from being a true threat was that he would have needed a ton of TNT to blow his nose. He would have been in the slammer along time ago, but he his father kept the constable’s palm as greased as a pound of butter on two pounds of bacon.

I dropped Whort in front of Raven and asked, “Do you want to eat this here, or do you want it to go?”

*****

As we walked out of the north entrance of Nodrah, The_Really_Old_Guy looked at me quizzically and said, “Al_B._Moonlight…some day you must tell me more…of your seeming lack of popularity…I admit…ever since I saw you in your family tree…I have wanted to cut it down and use the wood to make toilet paper…”

“Uh yeah,” I replied, “well what can you say about a bunch of joes who would take an hour to cook minute steak?”

“I see now… if you ever tax your brain… the charge will not be more than a eighty-three cents…”

I put my hands in my pockets and hurried to catch up with Garth. The old man was on a tear, and, frankly, his breath smelled like garlic and old hemp. I wanted as much distance between us as possible.

“Ah, friend Al,” Garth said, “we seem to have survived that altercation. I see that you haven’t lost your touch in these parts. Don't you realize that there are enough people to hate in the world already without you working so hard to give us another?”

I sighed and answered, “I know Garth. There’s more garbage in my past than in a New York City dumpster. I keep trying to clear away the wreckage, but when you’ve broken as many hearts and walked out on as many chits as I have, it takes time.”

“You acquit yourself in such a way as no jury ever would, my friend.”

I was about fed up to the top of the feedbag with the admiration society, so I changed the subject, “So how long before we start looking trouble down both barrels?”

“With you in tow sooner than I would like. You seem to attract trouble like a magnet does horse flies.”

“Garth, I think you’ve made your point.”

“So be it. Well, after we cross Plum Tuckered Creek, we will be in the Wyldes. Once there they could be anywhere.”

“Good, then I better see how the others are doing…say…isn’t that Silver Mountain on our left?”

Garth got a far away look in his eye and replied, “Yea, it is, Al. Too bad we will not have time to stop. It is harvest season, and, as we know, Jon_Romulus grows the best pipeweed in The_Midlands.”

“Oh, yes, that would help us out a lot. Maybe then we could sneak up on the sloths while you’re taking a nap or raiding your rucksack.”

“You seem a little testy, my friend.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Perhaps you need pipeweed?”

“Oh yeah, that would help even more. Garth, occasionally, not often, but occasionally, you act like you’ve got blonde roots in your id. You remember the last time I smoked pipeweed?”

“Hmm… the young lady…and the Girl Scout uniform…and her husband, the constable of Dez…and you woke up naked in the Tijuana Room…

“I see your point. Sorry I asked.”

“Don’t ride your boxers up over it, now if we just…”

I never finished the sentence. There was a sudden flash of light before everything went black.

Chap. 9

The light was so bright that my eyes felt like I was getting a facial at a paparazzo convention. I doubted if I would need to visit the tanning salon for a few weeks.

When my vision cleared I saw a silver maned and bearded figure in a black robe step from the illumination. He was holding a lacquered staff of oak. It looked heavy enough that it would take three normal joes to truck it around the hills in their moving van.

Garth took his hand off the hilt of his broad blade and shouted, “Jon_Romulus! I did not expect to see you so far from Silver Mountain during harvest season. Say, you didn’t bring any pipeweed with you, did you?”

Jon flipped Garth a bag and moved to stand in front of me. He was about my height but built like a bull on steroids. Electricity crackled and sparked from his hair and robe. I wondered if he had considered changing fabric softener.

He eyed me darkly and said quietly, “Al_B._Moonlight, I did not expect to see you again in these parts. I assume that you were not well received in Nodrah, and there is, of course, always the matter with StarLynn…”

“Well, I see you’re still Mary’s Little Sunshine, Jon. How’s tricks?” I answered.

“Tricks…be fine, friend Al. The harvest goes well. I should not have left my minions alone in the fields, but there have been strange happenings in the area. When I heard reports of another party passing near Silver Mountain, I deemed need to investigate.”

“Got any skinny on anyone else traveling by?”

“The report I received was of a party of men and sloths, heading into the Wyldes. They seemed to be carrying something on a wagon. Sadly, that is all I know.”

“Well, Jon, it lets us at least know we’re not barking up the wrong tree that we’re sharpening our claws on.”

“I perceive that ambiguity is still a synonym for your name.”

“Uh, thanks, I think. So how long ago did they pass by?”

“Oh, it must have been a day or two. It’s hard to keep track of such things during harvest. Speaking of harvest, I believe that the ledgers still show that you owe Silver Mountain, Inc., a tidy sum.”

“Uh, yeah, I think the check’s in the mail or else the dog ate it.”

“We will let it pass for the moment. However, remember that my collection agents do have fangs and spit fire.

“Now who are these people? I know Garth, of course, and wish I didn’t know Elmo…Is that The_Really_Old_Guy? Sir, you have not graced the doorway of Silver Mountain in far too long. Is perchance The_Apothacary also in your company?”

My mentor replied, “Sadly…he is not…I am now training Moonlight…”

“You have my sympathies, old friend. Sometimes he is like a habit one would like to kick, with both feet and a crowbar. Now who are the women who accompany you?”

I wandered off to look into the Wyldes while the introductions were handed out like Emmys at a railroad station. I noticed MOxie, who had been playing up to Garth on the trek, was now leaning her endowment in Jon’s direction. I was beginning to think you could use her heels for a shaving mirror.

While they yacked like a team of yoked oxen, my mind drifted back and reviewed my history with one Jon_Romulus.

*****

About as far back as I could remember Jon had always been there. I think we met in grade school. While the other kids were out playing stick ball or torture the cat, he was busy studying magic. The kids used to tease him until he turned a couple of them into toads.

When grown Jon journeyed to The Institute in Hak to study arcane tongues and wizardry. He then traveled for years, in and out of The_Midlands, but he was always drawn back to the land of his birth. No accounting for taste, I guess.

Eventually, he decided to settle there. He cashed in his frequent flyer miles and was able to purchase Silver Mountain where he set up a Ranger station and one of the most lucrative pipeweed estates between the East River and Nalrah.

We had kept in touch, mostly a card and a line on Bastille Day. My relationship with him was the same as mine with Garth. When we did cross paths it was like we had never been apart, and I never doubted the ability of Jon to cover my backside. I didn’t hold much truck for wizards, but in my book Jon_Romulus was one okay joe.

*****

I returned from my flashback like a mosquito greeting a windshield. Smoke hung heavy in the air. I turned to view my bleary eyed comrades. It seemed that Jon had one fine crop this year. I sat down to rest while they raided the larder.

Jon sat beside me as I asked, “Doesn’t look good for the home team, does it, bud?”

“Nay, friend Al, it does not,” he replied, “so I gather you do not have time to visit Silver Mountain.”

“No, we have to track down that party.”

“It is a shame. The land is lovely this time of year, and I have a fresh pot of pipeweed tea brewing.”

“I know, Jon, but we need to get on. Besides, not only does that tea of yours make me loco, I gives me the runs, too.”

“Your friend Raven told me of your quest.”

“She’s not a friend, Jon. She’s a client.”

“She said different. She said that never has she met a more valiant warrior than you, in your own way, of course.”

“Really? Hmmmmm…”

“I will send a minion to restock your larder. It seems frightfully low for some reason. Beyond that, I have my duties at Silver Mountain. I wish that I could accompany you, but sadly I cannot.”

“It’s okay, Jon. No use crying over spilled milk when the rock has gathered no moss. There is one other thing you can do.”

“Unless it is canceling your debt, speak and consider it done.”

“I was going to hold off on this, but we may need them to pull our fat out of the frying pan. I think it is time you muster the Rangers.”

“Is it that grave?”

“Afraid so. If we don’t need them now, we’ll need them soon. I’ve got a feeling crawling up my skivvies that it’s going to get hotter than a fire truck in Hades.”

There was no more to say. We sat together quietly for a few more minutes, watching the amber golden fingers of the sun at it licked over the edges of Silver Mountain. A gentle breeze wafted from that direction, cooling the drops of sweat on my face. The wind felt good.

I just hoped that it wasn’t a harbinger of doom.

Chap. 10

A candle…

A single candle…

A single candle still burning bright…

A single candle still burning bright in a darkened room. The sounds matched the dying of the flicker of the flame. Shadows loomed to mock his agony. He had ceased his struggle against the chains that held him. Not only did he accept that he couldn’t break them, he no longer possessed the strength to try.

He licked his cracked dry lips as his slitted eyes turned to perceive the door open. Figures were silhouetted against the backdrop of the light. He was too tired and too hungry to even wonder who the figures were.

One shape, slender yet emitting great power, stood in front of him. He did not even attempt to discern who his captor was. Even if he could discover the identity it would do him no good at the moment.

But there was always tomorrow when revenge could be served with its side dish of scorn. For now, all he could do was wait. He was good at waiting; he had waited many times.

The shadowy figured nodded and said quietly, “Yes, I believe that he is almost ready. It is almost time.”

*****

Between Silver Mountain and Hak lay the Wyldes, a boggy plain inhabited by trappers, felons, and a few brave farmers. The place was about as scenic as North Dakota was intellectually stimulating. It was not a good place for a family picnic.

We plunged into the jaws of the Wyldes, slogging our way through the mire. MOxie had given up on the platforms and was walking barefoot. I managed to get in line behind her. The view was better than a Sunday drive in the park.

Uncle Elmo and Garth were in the lead, following closely the trail we had picked up and watching for signs of intruders. Now that she had fed, Raven was regaining strength in the gathering gloom. The_Really_Old_Guy teetered along, lost in his own universe. Sometimes I wondered if he was one clay pigeon short of a full skeet shoot.

The evening was getting as chilly as my last blind date’s attitude. A mist hung over the Wyldes, slowing our progress. In the distance I thought that I could hear the baying of some forlorn creature. The only other noise was our labored breathing wed with the slog of our feet through the mire, which sounded like a plumber getting hot in the sack.

Garth raised his hand for us to halt. He squatted to examine something in front of him. I walked up to see what it was.

“Sloth spoor,” he hissed, “and it be fresh.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I replied as I wiped the side of my shoe on the grass.

“I would say we are closing in on our quarry. The wagon tracks are older than this fresh sign, so I surmise that this group is the rear guard.”

“Wall, Alboy, he knows all ’bout rear guard,” Uncle Elmo butted in like a horse with a hernia, “just ask Parson Droobles, right boy?”

“I don’t want to go there, Uncle Elmo,” I answered. “What do you think of the trail?”

“Wall, Ah think Garth got that one right. I cin smell ’em too. Seems lak they got a couple females in heat.”

“Uncle Elmo, promise you won’t start humping sloths again. We just don’t have time for that.”

“Ah swear, boy, ya jest dun want a man to have no fun no sir whatsoever no way.”

“How far of a lead do they have?”

He scratched his stubbled chin and said slowly, “Wall, Ah gived them ‘bout an hour outside. Wagon’s gone a lot sooner, but we cin still follower it.”

We crept along like cows on potato chips. Soon we could see the glow of a fire in the distance. We started to hear the noises one expected from a campsite. Obviously, they had no idea that they were being tracked.

Hidden in the bushes near a clearing, we were able to study our foes before we charged them like an old car battery. There were eight sloths, three men, and the unfortunate farmer’s daughter that they had kidnapped along the way. While the others studied our adversaries I watched the girl. She had a body that would have put a roller blade queen to shame.

“Wall, ya ’bout ready to show what yer rancheros are made of, boy?” Uncle Elmo growled as he crept up to view the captive. “Hmmm, gotta remember that one. Real good use of a rope thar.”

I sighed and said, “Uncle Elmo, no one should be punished for the accident of birth, but you look too much like a freeway pileup not to be.”

“Uh, yepper, sure, Ah think.”

“Just keep your head on straight, and I don’t mean the one in your pants. Tell Garth and Raven to sneak around to the other side, then wait for my signal.”

“Whuh will that be, boy?”

“You will know when you see it.”

I waited until everyone was deployed. Then I stood, straightened my tie, ran my fingers through my hair, and walked toward the fire. I figured if I was going to die, I wanted to look my best.

“Hey, you joes got a spare cup of java?” I asked as I walked into their camp while wrapping my hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket.

One of the sloths approached and spewed with breath that smelled like something had crawled in his mouth and died, “What do you want, human?”

“Just a friendly conversation and maybe a look at the funny papers.”

“You have walked into death instead. We are hungry, but the humans are not done with the female. We may have to boil you tender, but you will be our dinner.”

“I don’t think so, Bubba Joe.”

I dropped him back into the fire with a roundhouse kick. I was beginning to like that move. My comrades jumped from the bushes. It was no contest. The fight was over before the fat lady could even warm up her vocal chords.

Sloths are not very cooperative when it comes to being questioned, so I chose one of the men. I drug him by his hair over to the fire where I could get a better view of his face. He was about as good looking as yesterday’s cheese pizza, but I needed to see if he was telling the truth.

“Okay, buster,” I said, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

He hissed, “Do your worst! The servants of Blübard do not talk.”

I pulled him up to eye level and replied through gritted teeth, “Frankly, mister, I would rather do it the hard way. I’ve been attacked by my mentor and my childhood cronies, I’ve had everyone tell me exactly what is wrong with me and why, I traipsed across this god forsaken country until my feet ache like a joe reading a Dear John letter, and I really need a coffin nail. It would give me no end of pleasure to rearrange your face about now.”

“You think that frightens me?”

“No, but this might,” I said as I pointed a burning stick at his rancheros. “Uncle Elmo always said the quickest way to a man’s mouth is through his privates.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Go ahead, try me.”

“Okay, I think you’re just crazy enough to do it! What do you want to know?”

“Where is Blübard’s lair?”

“About a hour ahead on the north bank of the Stump River. A lot of good it will do you though. My master will make quick work with the likes of you,” he answered as he spit in my face.

As I wiped off my cheek, I turned to Raven and asked, “Hey Raven you up for a light snack or are you watching your waistline?”

I dropped him at her feet and walked away. In about an hour we would know if we were up to the task or would just be spitting snuff in the wind.

Chap. 11

The Stump River cuts through the heart of the Wyldes. It is a meandering stream, about as sluggish as your stomach after a good Italian meal. When we arrived on its south bank, the mist had cleared. The full moon bathed the landscape in an ethereal light.

Garth scouted ahead for a place to cross while Uncle Elmo searched for any guards on our side of the river. I took a break and sat down to rest my tired dogs.

Garth returned just as Uncle Elmo lumbered through the brush, dragging two sloths behind him.

“These were all Ah could find,” he growled like a catfish out of water. “Guess thar feelin’ purty confindent ’bout no one findin’ ’em.”

“I scouted a place up river where we can cross,” Garth said, “but we will still get wet. You will get your Saturday night bath a little early, Al.”

I stood up, stretched, and replied, “Then it’s time for us to cut bait or pass the mustard. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The bank was slippery where we crossed, and MOxie fell down. The mud and water made her clothes adhere to the front of her. I wasn’t complaining. That form of hers was enough to make a joe want to put X's in all of the check boxes.

Once across we crept along the bank, staying close to the tree line. After about thirty minutes we came upon a sentry post. We made quick work of the guards. Things were going as smooth as a marshmallow on ice skates. It was a little too smooth in my book.

Five minutes later we spied a cave entrance near the bank. There were two sentries on guard. We needed to get past them without being noticed. I had no idea of how. I was as stumped as a lumberjack with no syrup for his pancakes.

The_Really_Old_Guy tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Do you remember…the lesson of the Shadow Maker…”

“Uh, mentor, I don’t think this is the time for a pop quiz,” I hissed testily.

“Often I see why…that the only place that you are invited is outside…Think Al_B._Moonlight…Use your head…for more than a storage vat…for hair dressing…”

You could have hit me in the face with a board and yelled ‘go tell Aunt Rhodie’. I hated to admit it, but the old coot was right. The plan was crazy, daring, and fraught with danger, but it might just work. The only drawback was that it would take both my mentor and I to pull it off, and, frankly, I was a little behind on my homework.

We closed our eyes and let our minds start to drift as we funneled them in the same direction. We started to hum a tune that was not unlike the static you hear at the bottom of the AM radio dial.

Slowly a shadow started to form over us. It hovered and gradually sank around the crew, blocking all light. We were totally invisible. The trick would be if The_Really_Old_Guy and I could hold it long enough to get us by the guards.

We moved toward the cave. The strain was as intense as wearing skivvies that were two sizes too small. I was sweating like a bucket of bitten bullets. We had only another ten feet to go, but I felt my energy drain like a cheap bottle of wine in a rummie’s hand.

Just when I was about to give out, I felt a cool hand on my shoulder. I turned my head to see Raven standing behind me, a slight smile on her face. I could feel the power move through her fingers into me. It was just enough to trip the groom over the threshold.

We found a secluded niche to drop the shadow. I was soaked to my boxers, but I knew I had to suck it up if we were going to make it through this one. We decided to split into groups. The_Really_Old_Guy and Uncle Elmo headed down a tunnel to the right. Garth pulled MOxie off to the one on the left. That left Raven and me to check out the middle one.

“I can feel him, Al,” Raven whispered. “He is near.”

I nodded. I had spent enough time with the dame that I no longer doubted her empathy.

We turned a corner and saw a door in front of us. There was a sentry posted. While I was still deciding how to sneak around him, Raven attacked and dropped him like a box of wet Kleenex. I shrugged. Subtlety was never her forte.

The door was locked, so I fished in my wallet for my pick. It took about as long as it would take the star halfback to disrobe the prom queen in the backseat to get the puppy unlocked.

We slid the door open slowly. As our eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight we could see a figure chained to the wall. Raven ran to him. She cradled his head in her lap. I saw tenderness in her face that I hadn’t expected. The dame really was goo-goo for the joe.

“He is nearly faded away,” she said grimly. “Who knows how long since he has fed?”

“Hold on, Raven, I have an idea,” I said as I walked out of the room.

I returned dragging the guard that Raven had popped outside. I managed to get him over to them before I dropped his head on the floor.

“Not the blue plate special, but I think he’ll do for an appetizer,” I said as I sat down to catch my breath.

“Thanks, Al. Not only is there more to you than I ever thought, you are also a true friend,” Raven said.

“It’s a gift,” I replied.

I had never watched a flake vampire feed. Electrato placed his lips over the guard’s mouth. Slowly he inhaled. I swore that I could see the man’s thoughts and emotions leap from his body to that of the vampire. The room grew cool and crackled with an eerie throbbing black light.

At first the man instinctively struggled but soon he relaxed, almost like he invited Electrato in to take more. Soon the body grew limp. Electrato dropped the corpse and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

After he had rested for a few minutes, the vampire looked in disgust at his shackles. He snapped them like they were toilet paper. Then he stood and walked over to me. His gaunt figure loomed large above me. I had never realized how tall he was.

He quietly said, “Thank you.”

Before I could answer we were thrown against the wall by a surge of blue light. From behind us an evil laughter cackled. You didn’t need the rest of the chapter to know that it was Blübard.

“Well, I did not expect to get three for the price of one,” he sneered.

I jumped to my feet and ran across the room. I whirled a roundhouse kick into his face. The move had been working well for me but not this time. He didn’t even flinch. I wrapped my hand around the roll of quarters and gave him my best Sunday punch. I might as well have been throwing spitballs at a brick crapper.

He smiled evilly and raised his hand. A blue light shot forth, struck me in the chest, and threw me across the room. When I hit the wall I realized that not only was I out of my league with the home team coming to bat, but that I was really going to hurt in the morning.

“Feeble worm!” he sneered. “Did you think that such actions could harm Blübard? Did you not know that I would be ready for you?”

As I wiped the blood off my lip I answered, “Well, you can’t fault a joe for trying.”

He laughed. I needed to stall for time until I could come up with a plan, any plan.

“So I don’t suppose you’ll fill us in on the skinny before you lay us out like dog waste on the sidewalk?” I asked.

“Feeble and dumb,” he sneered. “Why not? Only Electrato is of any use. I cannot foresee where you could learn enough to be a threat.

“I have tired of the little power games that I must play with the likes of the technicians and the Rangers. If one is to rule The_Midlands, and, yea, Chat_World itself, then that one must be Blübard.”

“I’ve heard that dog and pony show from a lot of joes in here, Blübard. They’re all talking up the other sleeve now.”

“Yes, but none of them possessed the power of this mage! Soon all will kneel before me.”

“Yada, yada, yada. Bet you said the same thing to the girls in the steno pool. So what’s the deal with Electrato?”

“Oh, he is but my first pawn in the gambit. Imagine the havoc a starving King of the Flake Vampires under the direction of my powers would create. Once he has softened up the front my troops will attack. First The_Midlands, then the rest of the rooms will fall before my wrath!”

“Not, if Al_B._Moonlight has anything to say about it.”

“You insolent worm! How do expect to stop me?”

“Maybe with the help of a good blade!” exclaimed Garth as he strode in the room.

“And the power of a chi…not blinded to your evil…” added The_Really_Old_Guy as he joined him.

“A good kick in the rancheros might help, too,” Uncle Elmo said.

“And do not forget the power of the King of the Flake Vampires…” Electrato enjoined.

“…or that of his consort,” Raven finished his sentence.

“And, like, what am I, chopped liver?” asked MOxie.

Blübard hesitated for an instant as he as he surveyed the brave force that faced him. Slowly he started to smile, and then his evil laugh rang through his long black beard.

A blue flame encircled his hands as he raised them and said, “Two worn out trackers, an ancient holy man, two undernourished vampires, a valley girl, and a pathetic excuse for a detective? I think not. I think not indeed.”

I braced for the flames to rip into my body, but they never arrived. In fact, I noticed the edges of it start to lighten. Soon the room was changing from blue to a golden glow. Blübard was starting to look as nervous as a stutter bum in a spelling bee.

“No! Not you!” he hissed as he raised his iridescent blue cloak against the blinding golden light.

A face began to appear in the light. At first it was hard to make out, but soon I recognized that ‘I’m better than you but we won’t say it because we already know it’ smile. I realized that the troops had just ridden over the hill.

“You will not harm…these valiant warriors…” a voice seemed to intone into our very souls.

“Apoth?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, Al…it is I…I cannot reenter your realm…but I can offer you protection…from where I am…”

“I will not allow this, Apothacary!” Blübard screamed.

Apoth’s head bowed as if he shrugged as he replied, “Did you not expect this…Wherever he shall be…so shall you…as well as I…For now you have no choice…Go…I command you so…”

Blübard fled from the room, muttering, “This not the end. You may have won this battle, but this will be a long war. A very long war.”

Apoth turned to me and said, “This time…I could aid you…next time…I do not know…Remember, Al…the strength that is in me…is also within you…Find it…and The_Midlands will be saved…”

Before I could reply he was gone. I stood for a long time staring where he had been.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Come, Al,” Garth said quietly, “it is time to go.”

Chap. 12

I stood on the cliff staring down at the Dez River Valley below. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had been to Silver Mountain. The place had a calming effect on my nerves. The coffin nail that I had bummed from Raven didn’t hurt either.

I heard a voice crackle like powered leaves behind me, “Al_B._Moonlight…are you smoking…”

I muttered between drags, “Yeah, old timer, and if you don’t like it you can cram it up your chi.”

I turned, braced for another nerve pinch. Instead, he smiled at me.

The_Really_Old_Guy said, “Good…you have passed…the test…”

“The test?”

“Yes…the test…”

“My vow?”

“It was a test…of your will…no more…no less…When you were ready to tell me you would smoke…the test was over…”

“You crazy old coot. So you headed back to the EastEnd?”

“Yes…someone must look after your shop…and rally those there to your aid…”

“Yeah, there’s two I want. You know who they are.”

“They will soon…be by your side…”

“Say, pops, what about my other vow?”

As he walked away he chuckled and said, “Not even the wisdom of The_Really_Old_Guy can untangle the mystery…of Al_B._Moonlight…and women…”

I finished my smoke and headed back to Jon’s homestead. Raven and Electrato were waiting outside the door for me.

Raven touched my arm and said quietly, “It is time for us to go, but we wanted to thank you again.”

“All in a day’s work, sweetheart,” I answered. “So how are you holding up, Electrato?”

“My strength returns,” he replied in his icy flat voice. “The rogue spell seems to have broken. I must return to my followers. Far too long they have been without a leader.”

His powerful but slender fingers grasped my arm as he continued, “I am in your debt. I do not think I have ever said that to anyone before. If you need our aid in the coming war, contact us. We will be there.”

Without another word he turned and walked away. Raven followed him, looking back once as if to say good-bye.

Garth and MOXie walked out after the vampires left.

“MOXie and I are headed for Nalrah," Garth said as he clasped my arm. "There comes ominous word that evil forces marshal near there. We must investigate…and explore other things as well….”

I laughed and said, “Sharpening the blade again, old friend?”

“Yea,” he replied, “and it be quite a whetstone at that. We will return when we can. Will you be here, friend Al?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then our talents will again increase the bounty of our legends. Farewell.”

MOxie tickled my tonsils with her tongue and said, “Like, it’s been real, fer sure. I don’t think my friends can top this one. Later, Al. We must do lunch sometime.”

I replied, “See you around the rooms, kid.”

I watched them until they disappeared over the horizon. I doubted if I would ever find a more stalwart ally than Garth, and MOxie was one fine sight from behind.

Finally, Uncle Elmo stopped to say good bye. He picked me up, and gave me a bear hug, burying my face is in his unwashed chest. The man smelled of pipeweed and cheap homemade whiskey.

“Wall, boy, Ah got to git back home,” he growled like a polar bear with hemorrhoids. “Ya should try to make it over fer Sunday dinner. I gots sum fresh pig rancheros. Yer Aunt Millie can bake us a pie.”

“I’ll see if I can pencil it, Uncle Elmo. You take care of yourself,” I replied.

“Ya, too, boy. Ya know, ya ain’t half bad fer a girlie man,” he said as he crushed me with another hug.

He sauntered off down the path checking out the local women and farm animals on the way. Given the fact that he had raised me, it was a wonder that I turned out as normal as I did.

I looked at my watch. It said 8:30. I lit another coffin nail and allowed the acrid fumes to jackhammer me into a paroxysm of pure nicotine delight. It was the little things in life that mattered.

As for now, the forces of evil were marshalling in the west against us. From Fier Mountain there rang a challenge to the very existence of freedom in The_Midlands. Sloths and NightWeavers, Blübard's evil wraiths, moved across the land. We would be hard pressed in the coming struggle, but we would be ready.

Yes, Al_B._Moonlight would be ready.

For, as we know, you can’t change the spots on an old dog.

Part II: Going to The Doggs

Chap. 1

He ran like fire across the rain soaked hills. Most would be lost in the torrent that he faced, but his Ranger training served him well. He headed south, always south, toward The Haven on a mission of urgency. If he was able to deliver the warning, there might still be time. If not, then The_Midlands were doomed.

Behind him they came, not as swift, but unrelenting in their pursuit, steady, always there at his back. Their determination was like a Mastiff that had closed its jaws and would not let go until the victim ceased to struggle.

He could not rest, nor could he pause. If he took time to stop and see if they still followed, they might have caught him. He could not take that chance. So on he ran, his feet barely touching the soil that slid from the hills as soon as he step passed them. If only he could stay ahead there might still be time.

He ran like fire across the rain soaked hills.

*****

It had been about two months since I arrived in The_Midlands. At first I flopped at Silver Mountain with my old pal, Jon_Romulus. However, he had some crazy notion about one earning his keep, and pulling his own weight up hill, both ways. Frankly, slopping corn and rooting pigs was not my idea of a fun Saturday night.

So I moved over to The Haven, the central Ranger station. Not only did they expect less out of me, I also had my finger on the pulse of the skinny on what was going on. What I heard made my skivvies want to crawl up in my socks and go for a walk.

Things weren't going well for the home team. Blübard had turned out to be about as tough as my Aunt Millie's pot roast. He spent a long time getting ready for this conflict while the locals were out on the circle jerk parade.

His troops had been raiding up and down the territory. They had effectively cut off Nalrah in the west from the rest of The_Midlands. He laid siege to Fort Oged, the passageway to the heart of country. Only a daring forced march by William, Steward of Lombard had thwarted his efforts.

Another problem was that his army included more than just another collection of joes you pick up from an ad on the Internet. He wasn't satisfied with that. He also had a lot of sloths, those six feet tall lugs whose fangs would turn an orthodontist green with envy. They moved faster than a deer with the trots and had an attitude that wouldn't win them Miss Congeniality in the beauty pageant. They were as mean as they smelled, and their odor was like a halitosis convention.

If that wasn't enough the wicked mage employed some creatures called NightWeavers. No one really knew anything about them because after they came through a place, there wasn't enough left to write to your kid sister about. They weren't doing much for the local property values.

I was sitting on the front porch at The Haven watching the rain pour like a bad sinus condition. I had just lit a coffin nail and collapsed in a fit of total nicotine delirium. As the smoke circled around my head I pondered if the numbness in my right arm was a heart attack or just gas from the java I drank in the mess hall.

Suddenly, I heard sounds from the forest. I wrapped my right hand around the roll of quarters I kept in my pocket for playing the slots. A drenched figure ran into view, jumped to the porch, and collapsed at my feet. Arrows started to zing by my head.

I dived for the floor and pulled the man behind the chair with me. The arrows were thicker than the veins in Uncle Elmo's nose.

"Haze!" I screamed. "We've got company!"

Chap. 2

I was out for a walk. The place where I’d just moved was as nice as anywhere I’d been. The buildings even had fresh paint. The day was as hot as a Great Dane in heat at the hot dog factory, but I didn’t care. The scenery took my mind off of the weather.

I sat down on a bench outside my new apartment building. Absent mindedly, I reached in my pocket for a coffin nail as I admired the yellow stucco of the structure. I popped the nail in my mouth as I one handed a match.

As I laid the first drag deep in my lungs I felt something crawl on my hand. At first I didn’t pay attention, but the sensation moved to my arm. I looked down to view a brown recluse spider. I nearly jumped out of my boxers as I brushed it off.

I had dropped my nail so I bent over to pick it up. I noticed that what I thought was a beautiful green lawn was in fact full of small pieces of trash and had all sort of bugs, lizards, and creepies crawling all over it like me over the memories of my first date in the backseat of Uncle Elmo’s '49 Chevy.

I bolted upright in my bed, sweating like a banshee. Either I had to quit drinking java in the mess hall or cut down on the coffin nails.

I rolled out of bed. It would be awhile before I could go back to sleep. I’d have a better chance of getting my credit rating raised. I walked over to the window, lit a coffin nail, and allowed my mind to wander back over the meeting earlier in the evening.

*****

The figure collapsed like my back after heavy lifting. I knew the joe. His name was Auston_Dwelvenfriend. He was a Ranger. While I drug him behind the chair the arrows whizzed by us like some sharp retorts in a bar hall debate.

Suddenly, a large bear of man crashed through the door. He was as tall as he was mean, and he was as mean as a foot sore centipede. His coal black eyes shone in flashing anger from behind his slightly graying beard and jet black hair. He looked like he could slap down a cement worker without breaking a sweat or wind.

He was Haze_Havenhoem, Master of The Haven and Marshall of the Rangers. He didn’t take kindly to either intruders or to being pulled away from his tankard of ale, especially the ale. He crashed into the brush in the direction from where the arrows came.

I heard a few strangled cries and someone plead something about his sick granny back home. Then it was as quiet as molasses on dry white bread.

Haze returned to the porch muttering, “Damn peasants! When’s a man suppose to have time to drink?”

“Guess it goes with the territory when you take over the paper route,” I replied as I retrieved my coffin nail from the floor. “Auston looks in pretty bad shape.”

“Not as bad of shape as the next clown who interrupts my bowl of pipeweed will be,” the erstwhile Ranger leader growled.

While I lifted Auston from the floor, Haze poured his beer on him. He turned and walked back inside as I drug the injured Ranger across the threshold. I wouldn’t say that Haze was hard. He just had certain priorities.

I helped Auston to a chair while Haze handed him a tankard of ale and the bowl of pipeweed. While Auston imbibed I trussed up his wounds. One of the things about my line of work is that you become a johnny-on-the-spot-of-all-trades. I was about as good a sawbones as I was at picking the ponies at the track.

After the Ranger had recovered, he started to tell his story, “I was with William when he lifted the siege of Fort Oged. It was a day of much rejoicing, draining of grog bowls, and consummating with the wenches.”

“Had a bout of the green gill flu?” I asked as I lit another coffin nail.

He replied, “Yea, friend Al.

“After the celebration died down, word came from the west that a second of Blübard’s armies had cut off Nalrah. William then left to join Garth_Ebony to attempt to reach the besieged city.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Garth hales from there,” I interjected like an author filling the reader in on the background skinny.

Auston nodded and continued, “I decided to scout to the north. There were reports that the evil mage had raised still another force. I vowed to find what I could of them.

"Above the head of the Dez River and east of the Great Lake, I encountered something that made my blood run cold…”

“Icicle fell in your skivvies?” I asked.

“Nay, friend Al,” he sadly replied, “I am afraid it was much worse. Marching to the east was his third army. The vast throng headed off into the Plains of the Min, led by several mysterious shadowy figures.”

“You mean?”

“Yes.”

“You saw them?”

“I did, but only a glimpse under a shadowed moon at midnight.”

“And you lived to tell about it?”

“As I am sitting here, friend Al.”

“Go figure…”

He continued, “It was, as I said, a large force, led by those accursed NightWeavers. I followed for several days, attempting to figure out to what purpose they did march.

“At first I suspected the cities of Uni and Lu, but soon they circled farther north to miss the advanced scouts of that realm. It was obvious their intent lay elsewhere.

“Unfortunately, I was discovered. So I ran to the south with their dogged pursuit upon my heels. I arrived here just before my body finally gave out.”

He lapsed into a brooding dark silence. You could have heard an anvil drop.

I got a mineral water out of the icebox and walked over to the window. The rain had stopped, and a slit opened in the foreboding clouds. The tiniest sliver of moonlight played through the hole, bathing the window where I stood. In the distance I could hear the baying of some forsaken beast. A cool wind of doom whipped its fingers over the branches outside.

I sipped my drink thoughtfully and turned to ask Haze, “Well, boss man, what do you make out of the tout sheet on this one?”

He shook his head and growled, “Looks like bat dung to me, Al. Christ, how many armies does that wizard have?”

“Looks like he stocked the pantry well, Haze,” I replied as I stepped out of the way of his pacing. “While you joes where busy pulling your puds and shaking long sticks at lightning storms, he was getting ready for this.”

“Yea, Al, but what be the purpose? If not Uni or Lu, then where?”

“Five will get you ten on an inside straight, he’s heading about as far east in this room as he can get.”

“You mean?”

“Yeah, it’s The Doggs that he’s after. Clever plan, if I you ask my two cyber-cents worth.”

“Yea, Al, you are right again. I don’t ever remember you being right this often. It still throws me, but you are correct. I can see the scheme…”

“Care to fill in the audience?”

“…and I wonder if we can stop him? He has three armies. One pins Nalrah down in the west, denying us the Dwelven blades we sorely need. The second force marches east, seizes The Doggs, and we are left caught…”

“Like an acrobat with his rancheros in the vice grips.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but the metaphor is apt.”

“And that still leaves possibly a third army to roam free over the rest of the territory. But where and to what purpose?”

“For now that is not our primary concern. First, we must thwart his drive to the east. If he is to seize The Doggs he must capture the fort at Markit. The garrison there must be forewarned. If they are ready they might be able to stop enemy at the Isthmus of the Cur.”

“So I guess it’s time for a road trip?”

“Yea, Al. There is one problem. For reasons I cannot yet reveal, I cannot go. Even though it is not unlike the blind leading the mute, I must ask you to captain this party.”

“Uh, thanks, I think.”

“Take a small force. You will travel faster that way. Be prepared to leave at daybreak.”

"Whatever you say, doc."

"This is against my better judgement, but I am going to give you a Ranger line of credit. Use it, don't abuse it."

"No worries, Haze. You know me and dough."

"Don't remind me."

I shrugged and headed for cabin. Tomorrow I was going to The Doggs.

Chap. 3

The nearest burg to The Haven was Nodrah, one of those little podunks where they put the streets in the closet after they roll them up at six and where the dames shave their mustaches about as often as they do their legs. As for The Haven if you didn't pick your nose or a banjo, smoke a lot of pipeweed, or partake of endless tankards of ale, you were barking up the same tree without a paddle.

Consequently, I had been hitting the sack pretty early. When the first rays of dawn started singing Hey, Mr. Sunshine on my eyelids I was already awake. I lit up a coffin nail while I turned on the java pot.

I immediately collapsed in a rheumy pile of pure nicotine ecstasy. Coughing and wheezing, I managed to crawl over and turn off the alarm. The first one of the day was always the best.

Still, when I looked at my trembling yellow fingers I wondered if maybe my mentor, The_Really_Old_Guy, was right. Maybe it was time I threw the nico-sticks away, started to work out regularly, and began eating three squares a day. Maybe today was the day to turn the corner, don't look back, and start out with a brisk run through the woods.

I laid back down to catch another twenty winks. I had about punched the ticket on the Slumberland Express when I was brought back to earth by a persistent knocking on the door.

I stumbled to the door and opened it. The sight that greeted me made my rancheros want to be put on a leash and taken out for a walk. She was a little shorter than I was, her long brown hair draped over in her lithe frame. She had the kind of architecture that made a joe want to go back to school and study Frank Lloyd Wright.

"Hello, Mr. Moonlight, am I disturbing you?" she asked in one those voices that seemed to cross the finish line about the time you got the pony out of the gate.

"Hi, Lauren, how's tricks?" I replied. "Give me a sec and I'll get my boxers on."

"No hurry, Mr. Moonlight. You don't have anything there that I can't ignore."

She gave me a kiss that would have sucked the vapor lock out of an Edsel. She smelled of lavender and old leather. She smiled and handed me my wallet and my watch. I smiled and handed back her hair clips and her cat o' nine tails. Lauren and I had been at this for quite awhile.

Her name was Lauren_Bloodcall. She came from one of those seedy rooms over in XChat, where the dames are dames and the joes are pathetic and usually trussed up like a gunnysack. The place was a Garden of Eden for virus alarm salesmen.

We had once teamed up on case that saved the very existence of Chat_World. She had proved to be more help than a left-handed monkey wrench. I figured I'd like to have her covering my backside while I was admiring hers.

She was mouthy, conceited, ill tempered, and self-possessed, but she had a heart of gold. She was also a real looker in her black leather Emma-Peel-wanna-be body suit. She was one of the two that I asked The_Really_Old_Guy to send into The_Midlands.

"So, kid, where is he?" I inquired as I lit up a coffin nail.

"I do not know, but we both know that he will be here when he can," she answered as she took the coffin nail out of my mouth and smoked it.

"Guess you'll have to do for now, sister," I said as I lit one for myself.

"Why settle for less when you have the best, Mr. Moonlight?"

"I've been asking myself that for years, doll."

She settled into my easy chair with a sway that would have burnt the paint off a battleship. She picked up my bottle of mineral water and started sipping it. The dame was moxie, all moxie, and I like a dame with moxie.

"So how's things on your side of the rooms, sweetheart?" I asked as I poured myself a steaming cup of black java.

"I've been reinventing duct tape, Mr. Moonlight," she answered. "Care for me to elaborate?"

"I don't want to go there, doll."

"It is your choice. I doubt if you'd follow anyway, Mr. Moonlight. Your choke chain was always a few links too tight."

"Well, enough of the pleasantries, sister. Care for me to fill you in on the skinny?"

"The skinny, Mr. Moonlight? You mean the fact that Blübard plans to take over The_Midlands and then the rest of the Chat_World? Or the more immediate, that he has two armies threatening two ends of this room, and we must warn one of them?"

I sighed and sipped my java. Not only did she have moxie she had more sources for dirt than Boston had baked beans. That was one of the reasons I wanted her on the mission. Another reason was that she had one mean roundhouse kick.

She was also one fine looking dame.

*****

While I finished packing I filled Lauren in on the upside of the lowdown of the mission. When one studied at a map of The_Midlands, it appeared that the logical route would be to sail up the East River, but there was no cigar with the kewpie doll that way.

The river had more pirates than my old dog, Arfles, had bouts of mange. On top of that, at the entrance to The Doggs sat the island-city of Dub whose authorities had decided that the best resistance to Blübard was to bury their heads under the pillow in the sand. It seemed unlikely that they would cotton to us waltzing by like Matilda.

That was one of the problems in combating Blübard. The_Midlands was populated by a series of city-states that got along about as well as Uncle Elmo's family and Aunt Millie's kin at the local bake off. Together, they would have had a chance, but that was the problem, getting them together. A joe might as well try to get turpentine out of a wet rag.

So we were left with the overland route. First, we had to travel across the Wyldes to the city of Hak and then on to the city of Radec. After that was a long the haul across the Great Eastern Prairie. If we managed to avoid or survive the wild tribes and inbred farmers we would arrive at the foothills of The Doggs. From there, it was a winding climb to Markit. The trip was not my idea of Sunday morning at home reading the funny papers.

We walked over to the main station. Haze had already left for Silver Mountain. He needed to fill in Jon_Romulus, Master of Silver Mountain, in on the skinny. He also needed to see Jon about restocking The Haven's pipeweed supply, which was running perilously low.

Auston was waiting for us when we arrived. He had rested and was ready to join us on the trip north. I was glad to see that he was coming. Not only was he good tracker and a steady hand in a scuffle, the joe was a lousy poker player. I stood to pick up a few cyber-simolas on the way.

Three other Rangers were assigned to our party. Two were the non-descript types you expected to see as filler in a Grade B detective story. However, the third one made me cringe. He, too, was about as bland as vanilla beer, but the poor joe was wearing a red shirt. Lauren and I looked at each other and shook our heads sadly.

It was time to go. Auston picked up his rucksack and took the lead. He set a fast pace that made me as winded as a boar on buttermilk. The other Rangers followed him. Then came Lauren. I brought up the rear.

She was quite a view in that black leather body suit. It made a joe want to go out and buy a new wallet or shoot a cow.

Chap. 4

There are two places in The_Midlands that are wicked enough to make Las Vegas seem like the ideal place to host a Sunday school teacher’s convention. One is Kuk, which is referred to as Sodom. The other is Hak, which is called Sodom Where People Use Words With Three Syllables.

It took us days to slog through the Wyldes, and now we stood at the South Gate of Hak. I hadn’t been there in years. I used to play piano in a sorry little gin joint called The Grain Factory, but as with most of the places I had hung my hat around here, I was asked to leave while I still had my tail feathers intact.

I walked up to Auston who said through tight lips, “We have arrived, friend Al, but as you know, this city is pure evil.”

“Yeah, you gotta love it,” I replied as I lit a coffin nail.

“I suggest that we skirt the eastern edge and stop for supplies at a shop I know on the north end.”

“Yeah, and I think we should saunter downtown.”

“Al, what good could come of such a journey?”

“For one thing, my dogs are as tired as a whitewall in a rubber plant. For another, I want to look up someone who might have some skinny on the dope going down up north.”

“I sadly must agree for the latter matter, but, friend Al, you talk very strange.”

“Uh, thanks, I think.”

We wandered into the jowls of the local Gomorrah. Auston and the other Rangers went to pick up supplies. Lauren headed off to visit a local rope maker that she knew. As for me, I decided to take a few minutes and stroll down memory lane. It would be a nice break as long as I could dodge the local constable.

I wandered and marveled at how much the place had changed yet how seedy it still was. After a while I noticed my neck stiffen from looking up at the three story buildings and the signs of whiplash from gawking at the dames who attended the Institute. I had definitely been out in the boonies too long.

I decided that it was time to check out my source. I headed down the pedestrian mall and walked through the local hotel. On the other side I located the ramshackle lean-to that I sought.

The Grain Factory was about as old as Hak itself. I knew the owner of the joint quite well. If anyone around here had the skinny on what was happening up north it would be him. As long as he didn’t remember the hefty tab that I stiffed him with it would be smooth skating on the old blacktop.

He was standing behind the bar when I walked in. The place was as dark as the closet where you’d keep the family skeletons, but he still wore his trademark wrap around sunglasses. He had on a dark suit and a white shirt that emphasized that he was about as wide as he was tall.

“Hi, Su-fur. How’s tricks?” I asked as I lit a coffin nail with the match that I had struck on the No Smoking sign.

He squinted through his dark glasses and mumbled down the front of his shirt, “Al_B._Moonlight…I didn’t think you’d have the rancheros to set foot in here again.”

“Yeah, sorry about the chit I left. I’d write you a check, but I left them in my other trousers.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Al. I was able to write it off as a hefty tax loss. Balanced my books for three years on that one.”

“Then we can let bygones be old acquaintances best forgot…”

As he ran his fingers through hair and held out a greasy palm, he said, “Of course there is always the matter of the constable’s daughter…”

I tickled his hand with a cyber-jackson. He left it in front of my face. I sighed and laid out another one. He was satisfied and placed the cash in his shirt pocket.

“So what brings you back to these parts?” he asked as he offered me a drink.

“Thanks but no thanks, Su-fur. I quit the stuff.”

“You mean you’re not a hooch hound anymore?”

“Yeah, clean and sober as a baby’s bottom.”

“Must be a lot of distilleries on the rocks then.”

“Well enough of this getting in touch with our inner selves, I need to know if you have some skinny on what’s happening up north.”

He held out his greasy palm and replied, “I might, but I seem to have trouble jogging my memory these days.”

I laid another jackson in his hand. He pocketed it, and then took a long time to get himself a drink. The man was about as fast as snail gliding on saltwater taffy while chewing tobacco.

He scratched his head and rambled on slowly, “Couple of days ago a party of trappers came through from up north. They said that they had seen some strange goings on in those parts. They found a campsite where it looked like a large force had been. They said there was a lot of sloth spoor in the area. A trail headed off toward the east…”

“And where was that?” I asked as I stuffed a cyber-abe in his pocket.

He continued, “About a day west of Lu, quite a bit north of there, though…Seems to me that if someone was heading for somewhere like, say The Doggs, that someone would have just about enough time to beat them there…if that was where they were heading, of course…”

He may have moved slowly, but the joe was about as sharp as the front end of a nail.

“Yeah, could be, Su-fur,” I answered as I handed him another abe. “Anything else?”

“Well,” he continued, “a lot of troop activity in these parts. Some of them manning the walls here, and others heading off toward The Doggs…”

“Really? I didn’t know that Hak and Northeast Confederation were allies.”

“Well our leader, the Friar Haydyn, is one sharp cookie. He said that if someone’s going to dump trash anyway, you might as well have them do it in their own backyard.”

“I see the old man is as erudite as ever. Well, I’ve got to go now. I’d rather no one know we had this conversation.”

“Well, you know it can be hard for me to forget that I was supposed to forget to forget…”

I sighed and shoved a last fin in his pocket. I had to go while I had some cash left.

“See you around, Al. Always pleasure to do business with you,” he said as he went to wait on a customer.

As I walked slowly down the street my eyes readjusted to the light. I headed back through the mall for the place where I was to link up with my party. I was buried deep in thought, which was probably why I didn’t notice the figures in the alley. The local girls in the halter-tops didn’t help either.

Suddenly, a hand about the size of a Decoration Day ham grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the alley. My jaw became well acquainted with a couple of quick fists and my ribs with a well-placed large boot. I struggled, but there were too many and they were too big.

Through the watery eyes I caught the glint of a nasty looking blade as a voice growled, “Let’s just see how many girls you can dishonor with your rancheros stuffed in your mouth, Moonlight!”

Chap. 5

I saw my life flash in front of me in the glint of the blade the young thug brandished. I struggled against the grip of his cohorts, but I might as well have tried to stuff an inflated beach ball through a knothole.

He grabbed me by the hair, pulled back my head, and spit into my face, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Moonlight!”

“Maybe you should join a book of the month club, if you need something to do,” I answered.

He hit me in the stomach.

“I didn’t take you for an avid reader,” I gasped.

He hit me again.

“Do you know who I am, Moonlight?” he sprayed like a garden hose.

“Not really,” I replied.

“Well, do you remember the name StarLynn?”

“Yes…that one does hit the bell on the head with the hammer.”

“We’re friends of hers. We all know her well.”

“Who doesn’t?”

This time he ground his fist deep in my gut and held it there. You would figure that after awhile I’d learn to shut up.

“I’m going to enjoy this, Moonlight,” he said darkly. “I’m going to enjoy…”

It was hard for him to finish the sentence with the well-placed black boot against the side of his head. He spun around to take a whack from a cat o’ nine tails in the chops. He went down like a good steak for supper.

His pals relaxed their grips when Lauren bonked knife boy. Their hesitation was just the opening I needed. I twisted loose as I wrapped my right hand around the roll of quarters in my right pocket.

I ducked under the fist of the one on my right and came up with a Sunday punch in his kisser. He bounced off the wall back to me. My second punch landed in his well-endowed beer gut. He went out like the lights when you don’t pay your electric bill.

The other one rushed toward me. Unfortunately for him, his momentum carried his face into the roundhouse kick I was pointing in his direction. He stood stunned for a second and then fell in a pile of dog waste.

I lit up a coffin nail and watched Lauren finish beating her adversary into a whimpering bloody little piece of pulp fiction. By the time she hit page thirty-two it was all over except for parsing the sentences. She was one fine sight in that leather body suit.

Lauren took the coffin nail from my mouth, inhaled deeply, and said, “You seem to have quite the fan club, Mr. Moonlight.”

I lit another for myself as I replied, “So I’m Mr. Congeniality. Sue me.”

“The thought has occurred to me, Mr. Moonlight, or perhaps I should just charge a fee to be your body guard. May ask a question?”

“Shoot from the hip, sister.”

“Just how many enemies do you have in this place? And who exactly is StarLynn?”

“That was two questions, but I guess I do owe you for pulling my kiester out of the fire.

“I have no idea how many enemies I have. I used to be a lot worse in the old days than I now am.”

“That idea…I can scarcely wrap my mind around it. Since I have known you, you are the best at what you do. However, what you do is to make people detest your existance.”

“You know, Lauren, you've never been outspoken. No one has ever been able to.”

“You have nothing to fear from my baser instincts, Mr. Moonlight. It is my finer ones that urge me to kill you.”

That was when I kissed her. At first she struggled, but then she wrapped her arms around my neck and melted into my arms like a puddle underneath a basset hound. She put her tongue in places in my mouth that I didn’t think were humanly possible.

She broke away, took another coffin nail from my pocket, and asked, “Are you going to finish the story or not?”

“Later, doll,” I answered as the circulation returned to my face. “We have to catch up to the Rangers and get back on the road. We’ll consider the StarLynn tale to be campfire material.”

She nodded. Without another word, she turned and walked down the alley. I ran my fingers through my hair as I watched her. The dame had a gyration that pulled a few muscles just when you looked at her.

Auston and the others were waiting for us by the North Gate. He looked impatient. I checked my watch. It said 8:30, but that didn’t tell me anything. It was always 8:30 in Chat_World.

He stared at the bruise on my cheek as he inquired, “Did you encounter the authorities or merely some local admirers, friend Al?”

“Don’t you get started, too,” I replied.

“So did you learn anything in the city?”

“We’re heading in the right direction. We should be able to make it if we keep our kiesters moving.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, some joes can hold a grudge for a long time.”

He shrugged as he helped the other Rangers load their hefty rucksacks on their backs. He shouldered his, and they lumbered toward the gate. I picked up my flight bag and followed.

I let Lauren bring up the rear. I figured she had a few things to think about.

Chap. 6

We crossed the Wa River and spent a pleasant day trekking across the plains. This was by far the easiest part of the journey. The gentle hills rolled before us like buttered dice on the craps table.

Lauren walked beside me. She quietly watched the breath taking beauty of the land. The grass was so green that it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. The sky was so blue it nearly washed to white. The sun burnt golden on her long light brown hair. I could have gone on like that for days.

Finally, she broke the silence by asking, “So, Mr. Moonlight, what do you carry in the bag?”

“Oh, a couple extra pair of socks and some clean underwear. The rest of it is filled with coffin nails,” I replied.

“I thought as much. I have often assumed that you were a successful experiment in artificial stupidity.”

She lapsed again in silence. I had no idea what was going on in the brain behind that lovely face, but I figured that if I did I would probably be afraid, very afraid.

Late in the afternoon we arrived on the banks of the River of Lu. Across the water we could see the shimmering heights of Radec, one of the leading industrial city-states of The_Midlands. It was often called Sparta with No Sneakers.

Among Radec’s leading industries were the Telni Manure Processors and the SOD Skunk Works. It was little wonder the place was also referred to as The City of Several Smells.

We crossed on the ferry and skirted around the eastern edge of Radec. We needed no more supplies so a stop in the city would have only wasted time, which we had precious little to spare. I also didn’t want to bump into the local authorities. I had had some problems in Radec, but what else was new?

We stopped for dinner on the north side of the city at a local Cheap_But_Quick. A waitress with an attitude like a mall princess and a chip on her shoulder bigger than a 850-megahertz processor served us food that pigs would have thrown up. But what could one say? It was cheap…and quick…

I ordered a cup of java. The mud was thicker than bees in your socks, but it kept me hopping from the table to the washroom. I just hoped that someone wanted to have a chat when we got back on the road.

Once out of Radec you quickly enter the Great Eastern Prairie, an area as barren of civilization as its name is redundant. The soil was rich and the climate was mild, but not many settled there. Part of the problem was the claims on the territory by rival city-states. Another was that no one wanted to encounter the wild tribes that roamed the area or the river pirates that frequented raids on the lonely settlers who dared live there.

We did have one lucky penny in the hole. Outside of the Rangers, I didn’t get along too well with most people in The_Midlands. However, I had been adopted by one the Eastern tribes, the Han. If we could make it to their territory their leader, the Great Evad, would offer us protection and probably a guide.

We walked for about an hour. The sun started to set so we decided to stop for the night. While the Rangers started a fire, set up camp, and cooked dinner, I reclined against a tree, took off my shoes, and rested my tired dogs.

The receding sun loomed red on the horizon, filling the sky as it blackened with etches of crimson fire. The quiet breeze, gently wafted across the land, told of the impending end of the day. In the distance I could hear a cow search for its lost calf. I wondered if we were going to have steak for dinner.

I wandered back into camp about the time the Rangers had completed their duties. A couple of them gave me a dirty look, so I threw another log on the fire. The sparks leaped and landed on one of the tents. I could hear cursing as they ran to tamp them out. I went over to the fire and sat down.

I took one look at the Ranger rations and decided to stick with the java. After they ate the Rangers cleaned up the cooking utensils while I rested. Then they gathered around the fire to sing songs, smoke pipeweed, drain tankards of ale, and tell old fish stories.

I was starting to nod off from all the excitement, when I felt something in my lap. I opened my eyes and looked down to see Lauren’s head. The light of a thousand stars reflected back from her dark eyes.

She took the coffin nail from my mouth, inhaled, and said, “I like you, Mr. Moonlight, but the problem is that to be with you I must tolerate your company.”

I replied, “If you were alone in the woods and fell down, sweetheart, would anyone care?”

“I admire you, Mr. Moonlight, because I have never had the courage to debase myself like you do.”

“I always suspected you were a few feathers short of a whole platypus.”

“In your case, Mr. Moonlight, if the dog is still alive someone should put the beast out of its misery.”

“You got me there, doll. I have no idea what you mean by that one.”

She smiled and answered, “Neither do I…”

I lit up a couple more coffin nails for us. We sat quietly, her head in my lap, my hand on her shoulder, watching the embers of the fire as they crackled and popped. I was getting hungry for a bowl of cereal.

Lauren wrapped her fingers around my tie and said quietly, “So this is where you grew up, Mr. Moonlight.”

“Yeah, sister. I hung my hat on many a coat rack around here.”

“Then now I understand…”

“Understand what?”

“Why your belt is two notches too tight. It must be something in the water, Mr. Moonlight.”

“You know, doll, I can think of better things for that mouth to do than slam me like a Sumo wrestler.”

She smiled wrapped her fingers tighter around my tie. I started to have trouble breathing. She pulled me down toward those lips that were as luscious as a raspberry popsicle. I caught the glint of the fire off a roll of duct tape in her hand.

“Is that the roll of quarters in your pocket, Mr. Moonlight, or are you just glad to see me?”

I pushed the duct tape out of her hand and answered, “It’s the quarters, doll, but I am glad to see you. I…”

I never finished the sentence. There came a blood-chilling cry from the brush followed by an arrow whizzing under my ear. It landed in the throat of the Ranger in the red shirt. As he slumped to the ground I shook my head. As soon as I had seen that shirt back at The Haven I knew that he had dog meat written all over him.

We were suddenly up to our kiesters in river pirates. Lauren dodged a blade as she produced her cat o’ nine tails and started wailing on our attackers like a happy yodeler with the hiccups. I looked to my right and saw that Auston had drawn his broad blade to duel the cutlass of the one who approached him.

I leaped to my feet, ignored my sciatica, and wrapped my hand around the roll of quarters, as I roundhouse kicked one in the chest. I grabbed a second by the hair and pulled him into my best Sunday punch.

We fought bravely, but there were too many of them. They poured out of the woods like beer through a straw. For every one we knocked down two more took his place. I felt like I was monitoring Bible School again.

Lauren was knocked senseless when a pirate blindsided her with the handle of his cutlass. I slammed my way through the throng to defend her. I arrived as the corsair was ready to slice her like salami. I leaped and placed my heel against his right temple. I swung out my arm and clipped another one on the jaw. A third one confronted me, and I left him singing E over High C.

Then I felt a club start a discussion with the back of my head. As I fell I made sure that I shielded Lauren. Not only did that protect her it gave me somewhere soft to land.

The sounds grew dim, the lights faded. I was out like a night on the town.

Chap. 7

I slowly returned to consciousness. On the other side of my closed eyelids I could hear the world around me. Next to me I felt Lauren as she struggled. I assumed that she was tied up like an operator when everyone gets a computer dun notices from the phone company.

I didn't want to open my eyes. I had been cold cocked often enough to know that my headache was going to be bigger than the inflated dreams of a fourteen year old pud puller with a blowup Hollywood starlet doll. If they had hit me any harder I could have been the poster boy for cyberprofin.

When I finally flagged my peepers open, I discovered that I was tied back to back with Lauren. It was still night. The fire in front of us crackled and burned with an energy that matched the eerie evil of the moment.

My eyes finally focused. I noticed there was about a couple of baker's dozens of river pirates milling around the blaze. They were a motley crew, the kind of joes you expected to see hang out at the mumbley peg game in the front of the bus station.

Lauren revived about the same time that I did. I looked over my shoulder at her. The dame was not a happy camper. Her eyes looked like she was the main speaker for the PMS for lunch bunch.

"Well, Mr. Moonlight," she hissed through clenched teeth, "I assume we have some more members of your fan club?"

I replied, "Sorry, doll, but I've never seen these joes listed on the roster the manager hands the ump before they sing The Star Spangled Banner. You can't blame everything in here on me."

"I can try, Mr. Moonlight. I can try."

"Well, sweetheart, you have to admit anyone could have been nabbed by these lugs."

"True, Mr. Moonlight, but just because it could happen to anyone, doesn't mean, that in your case, it didn't happen to the least intelligent first."

"Sister, if life was just, your face would wind up on a milk carton."

"Mr. Moonlight, I would like you to know that you are no longer beneath my contempt."

Sometimes you meet a dame and the sparks fly so fast you know there is heat under the hood of the jalopy. However, before I could barb my next retort, I noticed a thug about the size of a semi-trailer in front of me.

He was wearing a red bandana over his head in a lousy attempt to conceal a receding hairline. His skin glistened bronze, and his muscles rippled like a cheap bottle of wine. He wore a nose ring, an earring, a tongue ring, and rings in a few other places that would make most joes squeal to have pierced.

"So to who do we owe the honor?" I asked as I wished I could get at my coffin nails.

"Why I be the captain of this intrepid crew," he thundered like the thighs of a buffalo in heat.

"So you got a handle, captain?"

"Well, yea. My name be Percy_."

I tried to hold back a chuckle as I answered, "Percy_? You say your name is Percy_?"

He looked at me darkly and replied, "Yea, my name be Percy_."

I tried to keep the laughter down. I knew that if I cut loose that I wouldn't be able to quit. I also assumed that I would regret it before morning, but I couldn't stop. It was too funny. The laughter bubbled up in me like bicarb in a glass of whiskey.

"P-P-Percy_?" I guffawed like a dyslexic crow. "A-a-a p-p-p-irate named P-P-Percy_?"

Even though he started kicking me in the ribs I couldn't stop laughing. I rolled on my side pulling Lauren over with me. I did have the presence of mind to notice that the move did loosen our bonds. She started moving her hands against my backside in ways I usually only felt in my dreams.

He pulled me up by my hair and spit in my face, "Ye know I get tired of that reaction! I be one of the meanest river pirates 'tween Dub and Kuk, and what reaction do I get? Ye people laugh at me name!

"Ifin I tweren't so used to it, I'd slice ye like a fine carp cheese. Now ye better be telling me your name."

"Moonlight, Al_B._Moonlight," I said as the laughter subsided.

"Ye be Moonlight!" he shrieked. "Moonlight! Ye despoiled me sister ye bag of hog vomit! I was thinking of holding your party for ransom. Now it will be the stake for ye!"

I heard Lauren's 'oh my god not again' sigh from behind me. I also felt her hands slide out of the ropes. Escape is like making love or fixing a watch. Timing is everything.

"I would suggest now, Mr. Moonlight," she whispered.

Since Percy had raised his cutlass and was prepared to give my face a manicure, I agreed with her. I waited until he had his blade at full height. Then I quickly bent forward and flipped Lauren over my back.

She twisted a flip as she sailed high and came down with both feet planted firmly in his kisser. Percy_ hit the ground like a well-laid bunt. I rolled on top of him and allowed his chest to become well acquainted with my elbow.

Lauren pulled the knife from her right boot and sent it flying across the camp. Her aim was true. It split Auston's bonds. He rolled to his feet, sucker punched the guard in front of him, and grabbed his trusty broad blade. Then he cut the ropes on the two other Rangers.

Meanwhile, Lauren and I waded into the pirates like two wet parrots in a dog fight. She had retrieved her cat o' nine tails and was laying a few new tattoos across the corsairs within reach.

My roll of quarters was still in my pocket. I wrapped them in my right hand. I alternated roundhouse kicks with well-timed rabbit punches to the kidneys. There were already four pirates who were going to produce bloody stools after their trips for brace work.

However, it didn't take a rocket scientist to see the result of the fight was going to be the same as the last one. We were much better fighters than the lumbering oxen who confronted us, but they had us in shear numbers.

Slowly, we were pressed back into a small circle around the fire. Grimly, we hacked, hewed, bit, scratched, kick, and maimed any that came near us. However, it was only a matter of time until the bell ringer laid out his mournful toll and the obese matron got out her sheet music.

Then I noticed something odd. The corsair in front of me quit moving. He stood with his sword slack in his hand and a blank expression on his face. Then he fell in front of me like a hernia out of loose truss. He was deader than a Bay Area rock musician.

I looked around the circle. The rest of the pirates were falling like gnats off of fleas. I noticed that one had a spear in his back. I recognized the markings and feathers on the shaft.

"Looks like the troops are riding over the hill, doll," I said to Lauren.

"Well, Mr. Moonlight, given the track record you are running on this trip, excuse me if I do not cheer quite yet," she replied.

"Lauren, are you part of the first generation in your family to walk upright?" I asked as I pushed the wounded pirate that approached me into the fire.

"Mr. Moonlight, you are so lazy, that if you woke up with nothing to do today, you'd go to bed with it only half done."

I was really starting to like the dame.

We were interrupted by a tall thin figure that stood in front of us. He was naked save for a loincloth. His body was painted blue. His long blonde hair hung to his waist and emphasized the sinewy strength of his body. I wiped the drool off Lauren's chin and offered her a bib.

He bowed and said, "Greetings, Al_B._Moonlight. The Great Evad waits your audience."

"Then let's get this puppy rolling down the shuffleboard court," I said as I lit Lauren and me each a coffin nail.

While the Han party finished cleaning the pirates out of the rat holes, we bandaged our wounds and dug our gear out from the corsair’s booty trap.

The Han brought some extra horses into the camp. Lauren leaped on the nearest one. She galloped around camp, doing assorted tricks, such as picking up the coffin nail that she had dropped with her teeth. Obviously, she was an expert rider.

"Do you ride, Mr. Moonlight?" she asked.

"Sorry, doll," I replied. "I get seasick on the carousel at the county fair."

"Then you may ride with me," she said as she made room behind her on the saddle.

I climbed on and wrapped my arms around her delightful carriage. We thundered out of the camp with the Han and Rangers close behind. I found myself bouncing up and down behind her. It felt kind of good against the black leather.

There could be worse ways to die.

Chap. 8

The Han were a nomadic tribe of the Great Eastern Prairie. Noted for their fighting prowess, horsemanship, and herds of goats, it was said that a Han was not a man until he slew an enemy, broke a bronco, and knew the ways of the ram.

We thundered northeast toward their encampment. The leader of the party that rescued us informed me that the camp was at the base of The Doggs. For once it seemed that the deck was holding more than aces, eights, and that card that gives you instructions for playing gin rummy.

*****

I had met the Han when I was playing piano at Stubs. Garth and I had gone on a road trip to Dub. After several weeks of carousing and debauchery we left the city before the local authorities could track us down.

On the way back to Uni we discovered that Garth had left his map in men's room of a Dub tavern. He wasn’t pleased. He also wasn’t very happy when he found out that I had hocked his compass. We got as lost as a lit major trying to diagram James Joyce’s sentences.

After several days of fruitless wandering we ran into a Han scout. He took pity on us and allowed us to follow him back to their camp.

It was there that we met their leader, the Great Evad. Though still quite young he was already well known in The_Midlands for his leadership and his ability to build anything out of a few pieces of wood and a couple of nails.

Evad quickly became fast friends with us. He even offered to share his favorite ram. We politely declined. Though my reputation preceded me like a bad foot odor, he still accepted me for who I was and never questioned our friendship. Luckily, he didn’t have a sister.

We had several adventures together, but eventually the time came for Garth and I to put the dog in the barn and get back to Uni. I still managed to keep in touch with Evad, usually just a card and a line on Bastille Day.

*****

I held onto to Lauren for dear life as she gave the horse full rein. We flew across the plains, the hooves of the steed echoing staccato in rhythm to our heartbeats. The scenery flashed by in a montage of green and blue. My kiester was getting very sore.

You can smell a Han encampment long before you can see it. Those people had more goats than Aunt Millie had notches on her wooden cooking ladle and bathed about as often as Uncle Elmo during Leap Year. I started to notice the tell-tale aroma of freshly cooking goat curds roasting on an open fire.

Over the horizon the myriad colors of the tents came into view. Children played pin the stick on the rock, women lugged laundry and truncheons, and warriors searched for a place to have a quiet hand of poker. They all stopped to watch Lauren ride in ahead of the rest of our party.

She quickly reined in the horse as I tumbled off the side. I hadn’t been that sore since I was beat up by security at the Swedish Stewardess' convention. I made a mental note to stick to the trolley next time.

I stood up slowly and dusted off my fedora while the others rode in. The Han circled our party, curiously poked at us, and watched to see if we were keeping an eye on our wallets.

I cringed as I heard the drums of welcome start up like a ‘52 Studebaker in need of a new set of pistons. When I had stayed with the Han I had taught them a song. It seemed like a good joke at the time, but they really liked it. Now it was their official anthem. I didn’t know if I should cover my ears or throw up. The entire camp welcomed us with a chorus of Louie Louie.

As Lauren dismounted I lit us coffin nails. She took hers, inhaled, and smiled at my discomfort.

“It is at times like this that I could become a true fan of karma, Mr. Moonlight,” she said.

“I suppose you get a kick out of tweezing puppies, too,” I replied as I looked for my bottle of cyberprofin.

“I have faith in you, Mr. Moonlight. I have faith that if there would be four ways to do something wrong, that you would find a fifth.”

“You know, doll, everyone has a right to be stupid. You just turn it into an art form.”

“Mr. Moonlight, do you know the difference between my dog and you? When marking territory it would never occur to my dog to include the lid of the toilet seat.”

“You must be in pretty good shape, sweetheart, from jumping to conclusions and pushing your luck.”

“I can please only one person a day, Mr. Moonlight. I am afraid that today is not your day. I would not count on any time in the foreseeable future either.”

I was ready to kiss her, when the crowd parted, and a tall blonde haired man stepped forth. He was older than I remembered and carried a few extra letters in the mailbag, but there was no mistaking Evad. He picked me up in a bear hug and swung me around. The joe smelled of old sweat and fresh goat.

“Friend Al,” he boomed like a loaded stick of dynamite with a runny nose, “it has been far too long! When was the last time I heard from you? Let’s see…was it not the card on Bastille Day?”

“Yeah, that would trip the meter and pick up the loose change,” I replied as I tried to straighten out my coffin nail.

“And did not it come two months late and with postage due?”

“I guess the stamp fell off.”

“It matters not. Come we must feast while you tell us of your travels. We will have goat.”

“Uh, just a cup of java for me, Evad. You know the last time I ate your grub it ran through me like a sprinter with a collection agent on his tail.”

We entered Evad’s personal tent. As we sat on the threadbare stained carpet, several Han women entered bearing loads of food. They served goat fritters, goat rancheros pie, and steaming mugs of goat dung tea.

The Rangers dug in like there was no tomorrow after the gunny sack race. The Han joined them. It looked like a contest to see who had the worst table manners. Emily Post spun in her grave. There was more slurping, belching, and licking than when the chicken franchise handed out free passes to the hookers.

Lauren decided to stick to the java.

After the feast, Evad summoned several barrels of ale and a bushel basket of pipeweed. While the Rangers and the rest of the Han got mindless on the floor, Lauren and I talked with my old friend.

“Good thing your men came along to pull our fannies out of the frying pan,” I said as I lit a coffin nail and handed it to Lauren. “Nice piece of luck there.”

“No luck involved, friend Al,” he replied as he nabbed a tankard of ale. “We had word that you were in Hak, so I sent a tracker to follow you. After you were captured he came back to get a rescue party.”

I nodded, lit another coffin nail, and said, “Nice work, Sherlock. Now let me fill you in on the lowdown of the upshot of why we’re here…”

I proceeded to give Evad the whole nine yards, the dope, the skinny, the lowdown, the odds on the pinto in the fifth. He nodded solemnly, reaching out occasionally for another tankard or to grope a passing wench. Once he made a mistake and placed his hand on Lauren’s knee. I assumed his knuckles would heal in a few weeks.

“I see,” he said quietly. “I will send my best tracker to lead you through The Doggs to Markit.

“As for now, you should rest. I see that the stalwart Rangers have crawled as far as possible and died for the evening. I can offer you your own tent…is this woman with you?”

“Yeah, for lack of a better term.”

He clapped his hands and a serving wench appeared and led us to our quarters. Lauren went in. I started to follow the wench back to her place. Lauren reached out and pulled me back into the tent.

“Why must we be like this, Mr. Moonlight?” she gasped as she quickly unbuttoned my shirt. “You are foul, self-centered, uncaring, and have the hygiene of a septic tank, but I cannot leave my hands off of you.”

I kissed her and replied, “It’s a gift.”

“I would explain it to you, Mr. Moonlight, but I am afraid that your brain would explode.”

I hoped that we weren’t leaving too early. I could tell that it was going to be a long night.

Chap. 9

We left the next morning and began our ascent into The Doggs. The trail wound like an amphetamine yo-yo. We moved along paths where a mountain goat would think twice about chasing a cat.

The weather turned bad as we slogged forward on the slippery slopes. The journey was hard. Everyone lapsed into a grim mood. It didn’t help that the first night Lauren cleared all of us out in a high stakes poker game.

On the third day we stopped for lunch underneath an overhang. While the Rangers and the guide tore into their rations like my dog, Arfles, attacked some ripe road kill, I lit a coffin nail and handed it to Lauren. I lit one for me and collapsed in a rheumy heap of unmitigated nicotine rapture.

After the tears cleared and my heart started pumping again, Lauren asked, “Don’t you think you should cut back on those, Mr. Moonlight? The idea of carrying you physically as well as psychologically holds little appeal to me.”

I inhaled deeply, held back a cough, and replied, “You know, doll, I sometimes wonder if you’d pass a urine test.”

“If you died in your sleep, Mr. Moonlight, would you know about it before morning?”

“Have you ever thought about playing Russian Roulette with an AK-47?”

“Mr. Moonlight, have you ever considered jumping off a thirty foot cliff with a forty foot bungee chord?”

“Conversations with you should come with a May Cause Drowsiness warning.”

“Is it possible for you to breathe and live at the same time?”

I sighed and sat back to catch twenty winks before we moved on. I wasn’t sure if we had been together too long or if it was the trip, but the magic seemed to be going out of the relationship.

I changed my socks before we started our afternoon trek. The rain came down harder than the scorn of a jilted lover. I was ready to pack it in and head to one of those Cancun rooms where the sun always shines and the dames wear no more than their imaginations.

Auston dropped back beside me and said, “The tracker says that the Isthmus of Cur is about an hour ahead.”

“Good, I’m ready for a good cup of black java,” I said as I attempted to light a soggy coffin nail with an even wetter match.

“So, friend Al, what is the plan when we arrive?”

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that one, bud. We need to see the Captain of the Guard. He will inform the council, who will tell the Lord High Mayor, and then it’s just lining up our ducks in a row before we shoot the pigeons off the cliff.”

“I see…”

“Yeah, it should be smooth sailing on thin ice…unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless that warrant is still outstanding.”

I ignored his sigh and the rock that Lauren bounced off the back of my head.

We had walked for about another half an hour when we heard a sound from around the bend. The tracker raised his spear, the Rangers unsheathed their broad blades, Lauren readied her cat o’ nine tails, and I wrapped my hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket.

The voice became intelligible before the figure was in view. I relaxed my grip and signaled the others to stand down. I recognized the crusty baritone that thundered out in song like wind after a good Mexican dinner:

Come ye lassies, take off what you have on

Says Vicarious_Conn the Barbarian

This is an orgy, not the senior prom

Says Vicarious_Conn the Barbarian

My ways may be odd but I am not

An antiquarian

Says Vicarious_Conn the Barbarian…

His salt and pepper hair was long, so was his beard. Both were as matted as the odiferous goatskin that clothed his body. On his head sat a horned helmet with more dings than a VW Beetle on the San Bernardino Freeway. He was about my height. His blues eyes sparkled with a 'What can I do to you next or lift out of your coin purse' look.

When he saw us, he stopped and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. However, he relaxed once he recognized my fedora. A broad smile beamed like a piece of re-rod off his face as he strode forth to clasp my arm. I checked to make sure I still had my watch.

“Al_B._Moonlight,” he said, “what brings you back to The Doggs? You best be careful though, my friend. Several local inns still hold your quite hefty chits, and there is the matter of the Lord High Mayor’s daughter.”

“Yeah, I know. How’s tricks, Vicarious?” I replied.

“Tricks be fine, Al. Now tell me why you have journeyed to the land to where you once said you would only return on a month of Sundays when hell froze over.”

I started to fill him in like aficionado of the belles-lettres doing the Sunday crossword.

“It’s like this, Vicarious,” I replied like an author reminding the reader of the twisted plot. “You know I’d moved out to the Central District. Well, I changed jobs again and wound up in here on a case. I decided to stay when Blübard declared war on The_Midlands.

“Auston over there got wind that one of the evil mage’s armies is getting ready to march down your gullet and up your kiester, so we’ve come to warn you and offer what aid we can.

“We’ve been walking for days. We’ve encountered everyone between here and The Haven that holds a grudge against me, been kidnapped by pirates, forced to eat goat with the Han, and been on the picnic stroll through these twisted trails of yours.

“Frankly, I’m wet, I’m sore, I’m tired, and I need a really good cup of java.”

Vicarious gazed at me blankly. I moved a match in front of his eyes to see if he was still tracking.

“Hello? Anyone home?” I asked.

He roused and replied, “Sorry, Al. I was just thinking.”

“Yes?”

“Why do they have semi-annual after-Christmas sales?”

“Okay, Vicarious, we’ll try this again. I’ll speak slowly. Now watch my lips…”

*****

I had met Vicarious_Conn when he was a student at The Citadel in Uni where he studied art and basket weaving. He was a jolly sort, given to much carousing and wenching. He may not have had all of his eggs unscrambled in one basket, but the joe would go to the mat for a friend or a tankard of ale.

I traveled back to his hometown, Markit, with him once. It was a land of breath taking beauty. The fiords plunged into the crystal blue waters of East River like the bodices of the local dames lunged into my face. I stayed until I wore out my welcome and slipped out one night just ahead of the local authorities and several irate fathers.

Vicarious later moved to Hak to continue his studies and to work at the local Cheap_But_Quick. Then he returned to his homeland to protect the local dim bulbs. We still kept in touch, mostly a card and a line on Bastille Day.

*****

“Zounds, friend Al!” he exclaimed when I finished my story.

“Yeah, we better get the word out posthaste quick.”

“Yea, the Captain of the Guard must be warned. I do have one question though.”

“Yes?”

“Do goats really eat cans?”

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if his mother was leg wrestling when she gave birth.

I dismissed the tracker with a modest tip for his services. We picked up our things and followed Vicarious. The fat was cast, and the die was in the fire.

Soon it would be hotter than the chef nipping rum at the beanery.

Chap. 10

It was an interlude, a spot for us to stop running around like turkeys with our heads cut off and catch our breath. It was kind of like when an author totally loses his grip on the story, gives up, throws the towel in the sink, and goes out for a bourbon with a whiskey chaser. What can I say? I know that I am out of control.

I sat in a tub. The water was hot enough to stew a chicken and had enough bubbles to put a bottle of champagne to shame. I reclined back, a wash cloth over my eyes. I soaked every ache, pain, and flake of dirt out of my body.

“You know, Mr. Moonlight, you clean up to almost look human,” Lauren said from the other end of the tub.

“Whatever, doll. You can just keep dropping that bar of soap between my legs and finding it all afternoon,” I said.

“Mr. Moonlight, occasionally I wonder which way the lid screws on your jar.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, at least I can go to the washroom without an entourage.”

“Your major contribution to humanity would be to die.”

“Who left the barn door open and made you Queen of Sheba?”

We sat back and enjoyed the warmth of the moment, too tired to share affection in our own peculiar way. I took her right foot in my hand and massaged it gently.

I looked at her, smiled, and asked, “Say, Lauren, how long do you think you can hold your breath?”

“Why I do not know, Mr. Moonlight,” she replied with a sly grin. “Shall we find out?”

“I thought you’d never ask, sister.”

I sat back and relaxed. You’ve got to enjoy it while the cooking is still hot.

*****

The trouble with having it easy for a little while is that life comes back, rears its ugly head, and bites you on the kiester like a reality hoagie.

Once the water started to get cold, Lauren and I managed to drip our way to the bed. When we were done, I rolled over and handed the conductor my ticket for the ride on the train to Dozeville. My eyelids were singing along to Hey, Mr. Sandman when I was roused by a persistent knock on the door.

I tapped Lauren on the leg to answer it. She punched me a little higher. As I tried to pull my breath out of my ear, I cleared her toys off the bed. I noticed a piece of duct tape clinging to my right arm. I didn’t want to remember why it was there.

“Hi, Vicarious, let me get on my boxers,” I said as I let the barbarian into the room.

“Did you sleep well, Al?” he asked while eyeing Lauren’s supple form under the bearskin rug.

“Let’s just say I got to bed early,” I answered while striking a match on his helmet.

“Do I want to go there?”

“No.”

“Okay, I came to fetch you for a banquet with the Lord High Mayor.”

“What are they having? My head in a noose?”

“Nay, friend Al. The warrant has been waived…for now…”

“Well, I guess that’s better than cold runny eggs for breakfast. As long as it’s not at the Cheap_But_Quick."

“Nay, we are meeting at The Ludefisk House!”

I groaned as I checked my trousers for some antacid. The culinary habits and tastes of the people in The Doggs were as legendary as kool-aid in a camp of millennialists.

The area had been settled by a bunch of bell ringers who wanted to farm like Norwegians and drink like Vikings. Maybe it was the other way around. I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I had eaten at that sump hole before. The place had turned the stomachs of stronger men than me.

While I pulled on my trousers I thought back to the time Vicarious took me there for dinner. The only items on the menu were bread hard enough to split a rock and fish soaked in vinegar.

The only thing that saved me was that they served a mean cup of java and thirty-nine varieties of ale. After the fourth tankard, even the waitress with the two front teeth missing started to look pretty good. If what memory I had of the evening served me right I remembered signing a chit before I left.

“You about ready to go, Al?” Vicarious asked.

“Yeah, bud,” I answered, “but do you have a ten foot pole I could use to rouse Lauren?”

“We measure everything in metrics.”

I shrugged and went over to wake up Lauren. It had been a good life. I could die a happy man.

*****

We followed Vicarious into The Ludefisk House. It had taken much cajoling, pleading, and a promised repeat performance of last night to get Lauren to come along.

I cringed as my ears were assaulted by the one sound that I found fouler than a chicken shagging fly balls. The strains of the whump-whump pounded into my brain and left me as nauseated as a secretary who swallows:

Okie dokie yah okay

Yup yup yup yup yup yup…

You get the idea. They could go on like that for hours. I could only hope they passed on the polka version of Louie Louie.

We made our way to the Lord High Mayor’s table. Auston and the other Rangers had already arrived. They plowed into the food like a dump truck into the back of a school bus. It was about as pretty as feeding time at the pound.

Everyone rose to greet us. A number of the good citizens fidgeted with their sword handles and gave me dirty looks.

The mayor stood in front me. He was a rather short bulbous tacky looking man with a nose that you could use for a road map. His clothes were stained with fish, vinegar, ale, and drool.

He gave me a ceremonial hug and whispered in my ear, “When this is all said and done, your rancheros will be nailed to the wall of my trophy room.”

“Good to see you too, doc,” I replied as I sat down, lit a coffin nail, and handed it to Lauren. “How’s tricks?”

“Tricks be fine, Moonlight. If it had just been you show up at our door we would be feasting while we enjoyed the view of your head on a pike. However, since these intrepid Rangers and this charming young lady collaborated your story, we have started to fortify the garrison at the isthmus.”

“She’s not that young,” I replied as Lauren poked a finger in my ribs.

He continued while spraying fish and ale in my direction, “We have also sent out a scouting party. Soon we will know the location of the enemy…”

Suddenly, like a badly timed cue in a second rate story, a lone scout burst in. He was severely wounded but made his way to our table before he collapsed. Some joes will do anything for attention.

“My Lord High Mayor,” he gasped, “we have seen the enemy!”

The mayor splurted, “Zounds, man, the beans do now spill!”

“They are two days away. It be a large force of men and sloths, and riding at the head is a NightWeaver!”

“You saw it?” I interjected.

“Yea,” he replied, “but only a glimpse under a shadowed moon at midnight.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Strange, I saw several when I encountered their force,” Auston mused.

“Sure you weren’t seeing grog double?” I asked.

“Nay, friend Al, I was as sober as a hound’s tooth.”

“Hmmmm, wonder what deviltry the ones who left are up to?”

“It matters not!” cried the mayor, as fish poured like lava from his mouth. “To arms, good citizens! To arms! Soon, the enemy will be at our gate!

“Moonlight! I have one request of you!”

“What’s that, doc?”

“Would you mind signing the chit?”

Chap. 11

After we left banquet we stopped by Vicarious' flophouse. In all the commotion and hubbub he had forgotten his sword.

We entered and encountered twenty-five pounds of the meanest blue tip Persian cat you'd ever laid your eyes on. His name was Blue China Maxamilian Ersnt IV. His friends called him "Ollie." Nearly everyone who knew him called him "Max."

I had met the beast when I stayed with Vicarious. The animal tried to use my face as a pillow and my leg as a scratching post at the same time. I was surprised that he was still alive. I had no idea that the sleeping pills would have worn off before he got out of that bag in the East River.

Vicarious asked, "You remember Ollie, Al?"

"One doesn't forget one's worst nightmares," I answered as I placed the couch between the feline and me.

"Would you like to pet him?"

"Sorry, bud, but when it comes to four legged creature I consider a cat to be a good dog well wasted."

"Didn't Oscar Wilde say that?"

"I don't know. I usually never make it to the Metro section."

Lauren sighed and said, "If ignorance is bliss, Mr. Moonlight, then you must be the happiest individual in The_Midlands."

"Yeah, well you're so stupid that you needed Cliff's Notes for your copy of Breathing for Dummies."

"At least I didn't waste my money investing in a chain of betamax stores."

"Hey, it's only a matter of time before beta makes a comeback."

"Mr. Moonlight, you do have my contempt. You may have nothing else of mine, but you do have my contempt."

"Why don't you go back home? I think the football team is lonely."

"Uh, I know that you two are having fun, but we need to join the garrison," Vicarious said as he laid out a side of beef for Max.

As I lit coffin nails for Lauren and me, I said, "Then let's blow this popsicle stand.”

We walked out and headed to join the others.

It was time to gird our loins and let our fingers do the walking.

*****

Luckily for the residents of The Doggs their forefathers were not the victims of inbreeding that they were. The settlers had chosen the location wisely. The land was fertile and the climate was acceptable. There was only one entrance to the peninsula to where Markit stood, the Isthmus of the Cur.

The isthmus was about a quarter mile wide as the turkey tangos. Between the sheer rock faces that a mountain goat would require suction cups to climb stood a large wall with only one gate. The locals collected a hefty toll on anything that came in or went out.

Outside of that, they had let the fortification run down. They did not place housekeeping and maintenance very high on their priority list. However, we had two days to get ready. Hopefully we would be.

We worked like dogs with their faces in the toilet bowl. We were so busy that Lauren and I didn’t have usual amount of time for our bantering, which seemed to take the edge off of our love life.

Near sundown on the second day we noticed a large shadowy shape in the distance. As we worked feverishly to finish the repairs the shadows neared. The visage of Blübard’s army came into view.

We ran for our weapons. However, the army stopped and camped for the night. If they had attacked at that moment they would have caught us in the crapper with our pants down. The only thing I could figure was that they would wait until morning so they would have better light for snapshots.

We finished about an hour after sundown. Then we heard sounds from behind us. Again we armed figuring our enemy had somehow sneaked by us. However, we were in for a pleasant surprise.

Out of the dark marched three forces to join us. First, there were the Dogg Soldiers from Markit’s sister city, Prairie of the Doggs. They were plucky hard fighting men tempered from years of holding back the incursions of the wild Ill tribesmen from the east.

Next came a band of Rangers. Auston had sent out the word for any in the area to join us. There not many of them, but each Ranger was worth about five normal joes in a fight.

Finally, we were shocked by the arrival of the Archers of Dub. They were among the best bow men in The_Midlands. I figured their leaders finally realized that after Blübard was done with us that they would be next, and he wouldn’t show up at their door to sell scout cookies.

After a few tankards of ale and bowls of pipeweed the armies settled down for the night. I lit a coffin nail, poured a cup of java, and mounted the wall to look out upon the plain.

I saw endless campfires dot the landscape. The sounds from their camp echoed across the land, filtered to the wall, and bounced back again. They sounded at ease. They should have been. I didn’t want to think about how badly they outnumbered us.

It was quite awhile before I was aware that Lauren stood beside me. I hadn’t noticed her arrive, and I hadn’t felt her arm slip around my waist. I guess that I was getting used to her being there.

“What do you think, Al?” she asked quietly as she took my coffin nail.

“There’s a lot of them, doll, a lot of them,” I answered as she placed the smoke back in my mouth.

“Yes. It looks more imposing when you see their fires.”

“I can’t disagree with that.”

“Still, we have received aid.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think it is enough?”

I turned, cupped her face in my hands, and tilted her head up slightly. My lips reached down to drink in the softness and pleasure of hers. We stayed that way for along time, like we both knew that we might never have another moment like this again.

“I don’t know, Lauren, for once, I don’t know,” I answered as I brushed back her hair.

We stood there for a long time holding each other. Then we quietly walked hand in hand back to our tent.

Tomorrow could be the end, but for the night we had each other.

Chap. 12

Dawn, the time of day that if I am awake it means I have either been up all night or am desperately beating my lungs to get them to work. However, this day was a little different. If I made it out of this one with my kiester in one piece, I’d be whistling up a new flagpole.

Lauren and I woke up early. Actually I don’t think we had slept that long. As we mounted the wall I noticed that my wrists were still sticky from the duct tape. It amazed me what a woman with a mouth like hers could get a joe to do.

“Well, Mr. Moonlight,” she said as she took the coffin nail that I lit for her, “I see once again that in your case an idle mind is your equivalent of the quest for fire.”

I lit one for me and replied, “You know, doll, when you die the cause of death will be listed as karmic justice.”

“If you are ever run over by a car the driver should be given a medal.”

“I heard that when you were born your mother decided to leave you on the front steps of a police station while she turned herself in.”

She reached out to touch the side of my face. Her hand lingered as she searched for the words.

“Al…” she said quietly.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” I answered as I brushed the hair from her eyes.

“I assume that you did. Though I have often wondered if you needed a manual to read the numbers on the ATM.”

“You know you are about as lovable as a good case of foot fungus.”

Before we could continue, a trumpet blared out. A scout from the parapet yelled that the enemy was on the move.

I peered over the wall at the force that marched toward us. They were grim looking men and foul faced sloths lined in columns that seemed to stretch back nearly to eternity. At the rear the NightWeaver sat on an ebony horse. Even at the great distance between us our eyes locked. I had a sinking feeling that we would butt heads before the day was over.

Lauren had borrowed a bow from one of the archers. She tested the string to make sure the tension was right. At her feet lay her cat o’ nine tails. She had a blade strapped to her waist.

Auston and Vicarious joined us. The Ranger was armed with his broad blade, and the barbarian had a nasty looking sword that would take two normal joes to swing. Both wore grim looks that you usually found on someone who had been in the restroom line a little too long.

I was never very good with a sword, and the last time I tried to use a bow it took me a week to get over the rope burn. However, I found a baseball bat. It was about time to acquaint the enemy with the prowess of the Louisville love tap.

The enemy neared. I reached out and stroked Lauren’s hair one last time. I would have given my right ranchero for an AK-47, but since guns didn’t work in The_Midlands the point was moot.

As Blübard’s force entered range the archers started raining arrows like a golden shower at a tea party. Their lines wavered momentarily and then moved forward. For each one taken down, three took his place.

They reached the wall. We started to pitch rocks, boiling oil, and the kitchen sink down on them. Some of them raised their shields over their heads to protect others as they dug at the foundation of the barricade.

Meanwhile, catapults began to rain rocks on us. They only had two, but that was enough to do the damage. The wall was starting to weaken from the assault.

I grabbed Auston and Vicarious and screamed, “Between the catapults and those joes digging like a gardener after tubers, they’re going to be handing us our Bastille Day gifts in person!”

“What can we do, friend Al?” Auston asked.

“You gather some Rangers and go roust those turkeys away from the wall. Vicarious, get us some men. We’ve got to go stop those catapults!”

Both nodded in assent. I turned to see Lauren pick up her equipment.

“Where do you think you are going, doll?” I asked.

“With you,” she answered.

“I don’t think so, sister. I want you in here where it is safe.”

“And I don’t think so, Mr. Moonlight. It is rare that I find a man who doesn’t chafe from duct tape. I want to protect my investment.”

I shook her by the shoulders and said in a grim voice, “Look, doll, the problems of two little people don’t matter right now. If something happens to me out there, you’ve got to go on with the fight. You understand?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Besides,” I continued as I kissed her gently, “someone has to look after my betamax chain.”

“Al?”

“Yes, Lauren?”

“I’ll see you in my dreams…”

“And I’ll see you.”

“…if I eat too much…”

She kissed me and turned back to her bow.

Our parties met by the secret entrance to the outside. Auston and the Rangers slipped out first and started to fight their way toward where the enemy dug at the wall. They were a fine sight as they slammed into the men and the sloths like a riposte at a celebrity roast.

While the Rangers distracted the enemy, Vicarious and I led our party out. We hugged the rock face like a disposable diaper. Slowly, we inched by the troops. Soon we were hidden in some bushes a few yards from the catapults.

“Well, friend Al, do you have any ideas?” Vicarious asked.

“I think we should make like exterminators and clear the vermin at the base of the machines,” I replied as I ground out my coffin nail. “We need a diversion.”

“You have any ideas?”

“Don’t worry, bud. Diversion is my middle name.”

“Thought you only had an initial.”

I sighed as I slid along the bushes. Sometimes I thought Vicarious was so slow that it would take him an hour to figure our if he could spare a minute.

I took a deep breath and pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. I stood, ran my fingers through my hair, and walked toward the soldiers at the base of the catapult. I pretended to study the paper.

Three of them walked up to me with drawn swords. The rest of the guards watched us intently while a few bets changed hands.

“Oh, hi,” I said, “I seem to be lost. Do you joes know the way to San Jose?”

“All you will find here is your death!” one of them growled.

“You know I just wish once you turkeys could be a little more creative,” I said as I took his knees out with the baseball bat.

I ducked under the second man’s thrust. My open palm shoved hard in his chin. He fell backward, and I smacked the third one in the rancheros with the end of the ball bat. The second tried to crawl toward me, but a quick toe to the face sent him to the post office for a fresh loaf of bread.

Vicarious' party attacked. It was over before you could sing Johnny, We Miss Ye Kindly. We had a few minutes before any other defenders would arrive.

“So what be our plan?” Vicarious asked.

“I’m thinking, bud, I’m thinking,” I replied as I lit a coffin nail.

“We don’t have much time.”

“I know.”

“The catapults do loom large.”

“I noticed.”

“Better figure it out soon.”

“For the love of a sock to stick in your mouth. Can you be quiet so a joe can hear the voices in his head talk?”

“Okay, Al…uh, Al?”

“Yes?”

“What is this button for?”

“What button?”

“The one on the catapult with the Do Not Push sign next to it.”

“I have no idea…”

I walked over to look at the button. It couldn’t be that easy. Not even in the most reprehensibly trite second rate story would the author stoop so low as make it that easy.

I shrugged and pushed the button. The catapult fell apart like a linebacker in therapy.

It was that easy.

Go figure…

We made quick work of the second machine and headed back. We linked up with the Rangers who had succeeded in scraping the scum away from the wall.

Once inside, Vicarious said to me, “We won, friend Al.”

“We took the first set, but I’m afraid that we have ten more frames to bowl.”

Before he could reply we hard a sickening thud. The wall started to tremble.

Auston looked at me grimly and said, “Battering ram.”

Chap 13

Late morning and things had not gone well for the home team. Three times we beat Blübard’s army back like a fallen soufflé. Four times they had returned like an insufficient funds notice on your checking account.

Our forces held up well, but we were tired. The archers were low on arrows, the foot soldiers were exhausted from pushing back ladders, and I had a new set of blisters on top of the other set from bashing in heads.

Still they kept coming. The gate was breached, but a spirited defense by the Rangers and the Dogg Soldiers stopped the enemy like a thumbtack in the eyelid. We piled up whatever we could find to plug the hole.

There wasn’t a lot of finesse to their battle plan. For every one of them we cut down like a poorly seeded lawn, there was always another…and another…and another…

Lauren ran out of arrows. She poked out a few eyes with the bow before it shattered. Her blade was gone, buried in the throat of some unlucky joe who tried to crawl over the wall. Now her cat o’ nine tails tattooed any that dared try to climb a ladder in her direction. I stopped to admire her for a moment. She was one fine looking dame.

I felt like someone had pulled my arms out of the socket, beat on them, and returned them to the wrong armholes. I was sore, tired, and really needed a coffin nail.

I grabbed Lauren and said, “Look, this is not going well and is only going to get worse. If this keeps up we better be sure we have our wills updated.”

“What can we do?” she asked as she pushed a ladder full of screaming men off the wall.

“There’s only one way out of this knothole as I see it. I’ve known it from the start, but I tried to avoid it like a private dodges KP.”

“What’s that, Mr. Moonlight? You don’t have one of your plans do you?”

“Yeah, and it might just work. Christ, it has to work. I have to confront the NightWeaver.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Crazy like a coon hound, doll.”

“First, what can you do against that? I mean, you do hold your own weight in a fight, so to speak, but what can you do against a NightWeaver? And second, how would you even get there?”

“I don’t know for sure, sweetheart, but The_Apothacary told me that the secret to defeating Blübard lies in me. Maybe it’s about time for me to ante up or just start spitting in the wind.

“As for getting there, remember I’m a flake, and I got a few tricks up my sleeve under the stacked deck.”

“Okay, I suppose there is no stopping you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“And you want to go alone.”

“You hit the nail with the crowbar, sister.”

“Then good luck…and Al…”

I kissed her gently and said, “I know, Lauren, I know.”

Without another word I turned and walked away. I needed to find some place quiet to concentrate.

*****

I checked my watch. It said 8:30, but that told me about as much as the psych evaluation from my junior college counselor. I found a somewhat quiet corner behind the medical tent. It was time to get my act started.

For most purposes flakes wag the dog in the men’s room the same way as chatters. However, there are a few differences. One of them is that a flake that is trained can teleport limited distances.

I had done it a few times. I wasn’t too fond of the process. It usually left me as winded as a Katzenjammer in the cookie jar, but I saw no other way to get to the wraith. The trick would be to get close enough to reach the NightWeaver yet to be far enough away to recover from the teleport.

I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift while I concentrated on a fine point behind my eyelids. Sound started to dim and then returned like a rush of color at my fingertips. Encased in black I faded and moved through my mind, searched for the place where I wanted to land, and then opened my eyes.

I was on the other side of the lines. The NightWeaver was only a few yards away. Its back was turned, and the wraith wasn’t aware of my presence. I could have rushed him like a lonely frat boy, but I was as spent as an octogenarian on Easy Street.

Behind me I heard a sound. I turned to take out a guard at the kneecaps with my ball bat. Another one stepped in front of me, and I left the trademark of the bat indented on his face.

Then I felt an icy stare penetrate my spine, run up my back like a set of long forgotten fingers, and ask my brain if anyone was home. I turned to confront the NightWeaver.

It was standing in front of me. What would pass for a smile was pasted on its face like a picture on a piece of construction paper. As I looked up, I realized that I had never thought about how big it was.

“Sooooo, what dares come before me?” it hissed.

“The name’s Moonlight, Al_B._Moonlight, bud, and I’m here to tear your kiester a new picture window,” I replied.

“Then shall the battle be joined?”

“Doc, the only thing that is going to be joined is your face to my fist.”

I swung a sucker punch at him. I might as well have been swinging at a shadow. My hand passed through the wraith and touched nothing. I noticed that my arm felt very cold. So much for the element of surprise.

It closed its eyes. A black cloud formed around the figure, seemed to caress the wraith for an instant, and floated ominously in my direction. I stepped to the side, but the cloud followed. I shrugged and waited. It was time to put the kettle on the fire and see what perked.

I have never been able to adequately describe the cold that invaded my soul. It ran deep down the rivers of my memories, and pulled out every dream that I wanted to repress. The chill played with me like a cat with its favorite toy.

My soul was ice, the dreams became fire, and in between I stood helpless as the ebony fog engulfed me. I retreated deeper but the cloud followed acquiring more demons from my memories.

I had nowhere left to go. The NightWeaver stood quiet, patient, ready for the kill. However, it was no banana split for bubba at this carnival. Deep within me, at the very core of my being, I discovered a light. The radiance was so bright and so warm that no darkness could enter.

Warmed by the light, I stepped forward. The black retreated. Another step followed by another retreat. It pounced, but this time I was ready. Illumination poured from me and emanated through my soul. A crescendo of pure energy ripped through the black and the fire and the cold. I heard the NightWeaver scream.

I opened my eyes to see the final traces of it disappear into the sky. The wraith’s anguish cry echoed like dying venom off the cliffs as it was banished from The_Midlands. I slumped exhausted against a tree.

A noise from behind reminded me that there were still enemy soldiers near me. I reached for my baseball bat but knew I had only one good whiff left. It was about time to bring down the curtain on the play.

I heard the blare of trumpets and saw the flash of black and gold move into view. There was a black banner with the crest of an angry golden hawk. I assumed that the regiment had ridden over the horizon.

That was all I remembered as I passed out like free tickets for the carnival.

Chap. 14

When I started to come back around, my head was on a very comfortable lap while a hand gently stroked the side of my face. I took a breath, didn’t move, and played possum like a marsupial on secanol.

I wanted to stay where I was because I was so relaxed. Another reason was that in my past I awoke too often in strange rooms next to even stranger dames, that were big enough to have Goodyear written on their sides, cooing for me to tell them more about the gods. You could say that I was a little gun shy.

Then I heard a voice softly ask, “Is that you, Mr. Moonlight? Please don’t make me look for a pulse. I would have no idea where to begin.”

I smiled, kept my eyes shut, and replied, “I think we could come up with a few ideas, sweetheart. How long have I been in Tookie Tookie Land?”

“Nearly five hours. I was worried, Mr. Moonlight. Even though you are about as dense as granite I have no desire to train a new one. Good help is so hard to find.”

I rubbed the back of my neck and started to set up. My head began to spin like sloe gin in your stomach when you’re on the roller coaster. I collapsed back against the softness of Lauren. I had no complaints.

“Do take it slow, Mr. Moonlight,” she said. “That battle must have taken a lot out of you.”

I lit a coffin nail and said, “Yeah, about the longest five minutes of my life.”

She took the coffin nail, inhaled deeply, looked in my eyes, and said, “Al, you battled that monster for three hours.”

“Really? Seemed to me like a good case of the hiccups lasted longer.”

My eyes burned like a congressman’s ears. I rubbed them with the back of my right hand. As I pulled the hand away from my face I noticed a few white hairs on the back of it. Strange, I had never seen them before.

I lit another coffin nail and looked around the room. Auston was there, so was Vicarious. They were in an argument with the Lord High Mayor. He kept waving a paper in my direction. They finally picked him up and threw him outside.

Lauren pulled me gently back against her and massaged my shoulders.

“So,” I asked as I melted into her hands, “anyone want to tell me what happened while I was on the Lullaby Express?”

She pulled me closer and started to quietly tell the story, “While you struggled with the NightWeaver, the battle stopped. The ominous black cloud and the white light that combated it transfixed everyone.

“After you won we thought that they would surrender. However, they attacked. The only thing that saved us at first was that without their leader they were terribly disorganized.

“Then from the south we would the blare of trumpets. Over a ridge appeared the Legions of Hak. They attacked the enemy like…”

“Like a ’62 Impala plowing into the side of a watermelon truck?” I interjected.

She continued, “I wouldn’t put it in those words, but I supposed that one could say so.”

“So why did they take so long to get there? They left Hak before we did.”

“They said something about the Friar Haydyn wanting them to save money by not taking the toll highway, the Boulevard of the Martyrs. They had to travel west toward Lu to get to the free road.”

“That old coot was always tighter than an old maid in control top panty hose.”

“Anyway, they sent the enemy into total disarray. The Captain of the Guard ordered everyone through the gate. The fight was long and bloody, but pinned between our two forces Blübard’s army was finally routed.

“They disappeared into the west. Auston sent the rest of the Rangers to track them…Mr. Moonlight…Are you still there?”

The room began to glow in a golden light. The radiance was so warm. Everyone faded from my view.

*****

How long I wandered in the illumination I had no idea. Finally, in the distance I saw a figure approach me. It seemed very familiar. Then I recognized the 'I am and always will be one step ahead of you' smile.

“Hi, Apoth, how’s tricks?” I asked.

The_Apothacary replied, “Tricks are fine Al…I am proud of your performance…”

“Yeah, not bad for a rookie at this mumbo jumbo stuff.”

“Yes…however…though you have done much…there is still much that must be done…”

“I figured as much. I wasn’t planning on filing a change of address card. So what can you tell me?”

He shrugged and answered, “I can tell you much…if you can read between…the few words…I am allowed to say…”

“Why am I not surprised?” I said.

“For now Blübard is at bay in the east…however Nalrah is still under siege in the west…the army you vanquished will reform…as for his third force…I have no idea of the plans…”

“Glad you’re still Mary’s little sunshine, Apoth. Now what’s the bad news?”

“There will be no rest…for you…until the war has ended…read this note…it will tell you where to go next…”

A piece of paper floated into my hand and I read it aloud, “This coupon entitles the bearer to a second equivalent meal at the price of the first at any participating Cheap_But_Quick. Thanks, Apoth, I’ll have to take Lauren out for dinner.”

He sighed and said, “I apologize…paper is rare in this realm…but the written word…is the only way I can convey the message…from my platform…to your platform…read the other side…”

I turned the paper over. On the back in fiery letters were the words:

Into the Great Wastes

And you will find

The answer to the question

That will be the question

That you must answer.

From there

Your journey will begin…

“Obtuse and to the point,” I said as I stuffed the paper in my pocket, “can I keep the coupon?”

He replied, “Keep the coupon…and keep the message…close to your heart…I must go as must you…I will contact you again…when I can…”

He stepped back slowly. The golden glow started to fade. I felt very tired.

The next thing I knew I was laying on the floor. Lauren was giving me CPR. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her very close.

*****

We stood on the cliff. Below us the East River meandered through the deep cut fiords. A cool breeze gently wafted into our faces. The morning sun reflected golden off Lauren’s light brown hair.

“Well, doll, I guess this it,” I said as I handed her a coffin nail. “Vicarious held them off for a few days, but if I’m not out of The Doggs by sunset my kiester will be oatmeal.”

“I know, Mr. Moonlight,” she replied. “It is hard to believe that one of so little worth could create such a stir.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you are just about the most amazing dame to walk into a chat room?”

“Why, no, Mr. Moonlight, they haven’t.”

“I thought as much.”

She laughed.

“So you heading back to XChat, sweetheart?” I asked as I lit a coffin nail for me.

“What and leave all of this?” she replied.

“I was hoping you would say that, sister. You want to flop with me?”

“Mr. Moonlight, though it would be well beneath my dignity and against my better judgement, I thought that you would never ask.”

She slipped her arm around my waist and hugged me. I took my wallet from her hand and put it back in my pocket. We stood there for a long time. Neither of us spoke or moved. We wanted this to last as long as possible.

She kissed me and said, “Quite the adventure we had, Mr. Moonlight.”

I brushed the hair from her face and said, “Lauren, I believe that the adventure is just beginning.”

We walked down the trail hand in hand. The sun was climbing higher. We had a long ways to go before the day ended.

Part III: Into the Great Wastes

Chap. 1

The rain it falls like memories

From the shadow of a slate gray sky,

It trips and falls cascades beyond me

Like the sands drifting through time,

To the west there is a gathered gloom

That burns toward us like a fire,

Too late it will be too soon

To save us from our desire

And why aren’t you here?

I walked out upon the grass,

So green its colors burnt to black,

And contemplated what had passed

Left no room for us to turn back,

And the message that is seared in my eyes

Haunted, reflected from you sad,

We get so lost in our disguise

That we forget why the world is mad

And you are not here,

And you are not here…

*****

When you're cooking with gas you don't need to dry your socks over the hot plate. I sat back from the piano and stretched my aching back. I had been working on the song for days and almost had it. Sometimes, writing is like a thousand monkeys at a typewriter. You give them enough time, and they will come up with Mickey Spillane.

My musing was interrupted by a sigh from across the room. I looked up to watch Lauren stare out the window. The gray light that emanated from the rain silhouetted her lithe form. Her long light brown hair draped over her shoulders and emphasized that the dame had a carriage that most joes would beat their rancheros with a rock to get at.

It had been raining for about two weeks. There are some people that when you are with them you don’t mind a storm that lasts for days. You can curl up under a quilt with some hot chocolate and have a good time. There are others whose presence make you prefer the idea of sawing off your own leg with a butter knife.

Lauren fit the latter category.

“Restless, doll?” I asked as I lit up a coffin nail.

She sauntered across the room with a sway that would have made a gyroscope green with envy, took the coffin nail from my mouth, inhaled, and replied, “I have often thought, Mr. Moonlight, that you do suffer from limitless stupidity. You seem to have confirmed my hypothesis.”

“You know, sweetheart, you could always go outside and play with the road kill.”

“Mr. Moonlight, you prove that not all of humanity’s ancestors died out.”

“Haven’t you got anything better to do with that mouth than banter like a banshee with the trots?”

She gave me a kiss that would have sucked the wind out a bell jar, ran her fingers through my hair, and returned to her vigil at the window. I lit another coffin nail and went back to work on my song.

It was going to be another long afternoon.

*****

Lauren and I had planned only a short stop before we moved on to our next mission in the Great Wastes.

However, the rain stopped us like a hip wader stuck in the crapper. Lauren was fairly hyperactive. She made a basset hound in heat look tranquil. Let’s just say that after a few days of being holed up with my piano and me she was not a happy camper.

She sighed and said, “Mr. Moonlight, I am bored.”

I lit a coffin nail and replied, “Well I didn’t need a shop manual to read that one coming from a mile away, sweetheart.”

“Mr. Moonlight, if life was just I would be talking to you while you lay under the tread of a tractor tire.”

“You know, doll, you’re about as pleasant as a good case of jock itch.”

“I do not believe in many things, Mr. Moonlight, but I do believe that some day the gods will punish you for existing.”

I would have gone on with our pleasantries but what was the point. You can only play 'Who’s in the Valley' just so many days in a row with the same dame. Besides, Lauren had run out of duct tape. The magic seemed to have gone out of our relationship.

I turned back to my song and barely got my hands out of the way before she slammed the piano lid shut. I started to speak but thought better of it. She looked ready to tear me a new exit where the sun didn’t shine.

I had no idea what to do.

I was as stumped as a three legged dog.

Chap. 2

The wet weather lasted three more days. It didn’t bother me much. I had been on enough stakeouts snapping Polaroids of middle aged soccer moms stuffed like chili dogs in leather while their latest eighteen year old Beau_Hunks lapped at their heels to know how to bide my time.

Lauren was another matter. She was climbing the rope up her tree. The woman was about as pleasant as a bike gang by the punch bowl at a Daughters of the American Revolution convention.

The state of our cabin didn’t help. When it came to housekeeping we were both about as enthused as a 3rd World banker when the loan company calls in the chit. The floor was strewn with dirty java cups, coffin nail butts, and mail order pizza boxes. The bed looked like bears had slept in it. There were enough mineral water bottles lying around to float Noah’s Ark.

As I went to pour a cup of java, I heard a sound behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Lauren stab at something on the windowsill with her knife. I started to ask what she was doing, but I remembered the welts from her cat o’ nine tails the last time I inquired.

“Mr. Moonlight,” she said quietly, “I do believe there may be a god to rescue me from the tedium of you. The rain seems to be slacking.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” I said as I lit a coffin nail, “I was about ready to sell you to white slavers if I could find a taker.”

“I have done a number of foolish things in my time, Mr. Moonlight, but as asinine as staying with you is, it pales in comparison to your intellect.”

“Yeah, it will be nice to get out and stretch the old legs. You could really use it, too, doll.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well all this sitting around and the pizza…”

“Yes?”

“Let’s just say that cellulite doesn’t go that well with form fitting black leather.”

I dodged the knife she threw at me as I headed out the door.

*****

Once the rain stopped we wandered over to the main station. Jon_Romulus, Master of Silver Mountain, was there. His minions were unloading a fresh shipment of pipeweed for the Rangers.

His long silver hair and beard flowed down over the shoulders of his black robe. In his hand was a staff that I’d need a crane and a truss to lift.

“Hi, Jon,” I said as I lit coffin nails for Lauren and me, “how’s tricks?”

“Tricks be fine, friend Al,” he replied.

“I see you about got it unloaded.”

“Yea, there are only five bales left. I notice that once again you managed to appear when the work is almost done.”

“It’s a gift.”

“So how did you weather the storm?”

“Oh, I just laid low.”

He eyed Lauren and said, “That I can see…”

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed, “Just be careful around her, Jon. She’s on one of her tears.”

“That time of month?”

“For her it always seems to be.”

He nodded and stepped back to where I stood between Lauren and him. Jon was a brave man, but even he knew when to cut the cheese and run.

“So, you seen Haze?” I asked.

He shook his head and then spoke like a narrator filling in the audience on the skinny, “Nay, since the Marshall of the Rangers and Master of The Haven left before your mission to The Doggs, no word has come from him. He was mysterious about his journey. Frankly, I am starting to worry what has befallen him.”

“Or he might be shacked up with some dame and a bottle of Old Scuzzie whiskey. You never can tell about Haze.”

“Yea, friend Al, on that one we must agree.”

“Unlike you, Mr. Moonlight, I see that your friend the terminals on the correct battery posts,” Lauren piped in like a Scotsman.

“Sweetheart, you ever think of taking up a career in diplomacy? You wouldn’t be very good at it, but at least you’d be out of the country.”

“When I look up the word tact in the dictionary, Mr. Moonlight, I notice that your name is listed as an antonym.”

“Why don’t you take the space heater and go play in the bathtub?”

“Well, I can see that you two have patched up your problems,” Jon interjected. “When will you be leaving on your mission?”

“If the weather holds up, probably in the morning,” I replied as I lit another coffin nail. “That is, if I can get her highness out of the sack.”

“Would you care for some company at least as far as Notirah?” he asked. “I have business with some traders there.”

“Sure, Jon. That would be the cat’s pajamas.”

Lauren said, “I, too, approve, Jon_Romulus. I for one wouldn’t mind traveling with someone who doesn’t stare at a person when she uses words with more than two syllables.”

“Doll, you’re the type of person who beats your head with a baseball bat while screaming ‘It will feel so good when I stop!’.”

“That is obvious if I am spending time with you.”

“Well, I hate to interrupt, but I must go pack,” Jon said.

“Okay, bud. We’ll stop by Silver Mountain on our way west.”

Without another word, he signaled his minions, and they disappeared into the forest. Soon all that remained of his presence was the feel of electricity on your skin and the smell of pipeweed. Jon was one odd joe, but he could cover your backside in fight.

We headed back to the cabin. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and we needed our rest.

Besides, Lauren had found a roll of duct tape at the main station.

Chap. 3

The next day dawned as sunny as my disposition when I picked the long shot in the third at Sunnyvale and the nag came in.

Lauren smiled out the window and said, “A new day, Mr. Moonlight. It is an answer to a prayer, not unlike the prayer that you should suffer for your existence.”

I replied, “Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, doll. Cry and you blow your nose alone. Say you know any way to get this sticky stuff off my wrists?”

“I have my knife.”

“I don’t think we’ll go there. So you about packed?”

“I would have been if you hadn’t had other things on your mind last night. I should be ready by ten.”

“Good, we leave at eight.”

“You should live for the moment, Mr. Moonlight. After that, you have my permission to die.”

Before I could properly barb my retort, there was knock on the door. It was the captain of the Ranger squad that was to accompany us.

“Come on in and have a cup a java while I slip on my boxers,” I said.

“That will be fine, friend Al, but I must finish assembling my men,” he answered.

I lit a coffin nail, handed it to Lauren as I lit one for me, and said, “Your loss, pilgrim. This java would make the hair stand up on your rancheros and whistle The Star Spangled Banner.”

“I just wanted to see if you would be ready soon.”

“I’m packed and ready to go shoot skeet, bud. We’re just waiting for Lauren to get her kiester in order and out the door. You know how dames are…”

He nodded and left quickly. I pulled Lauren’s knife out of the doorsill by my head and handed it back to her.

*****

When we got to the main station my watch said 8:30. However, since it is always 8:30 on this side of the modem that told me about as much as Uncle Elmo would tell Aunt Millie about why he always wore a diaper on Bastille Day.

There was a party of six Rangers to join us on our journey. Most of them were dressed in the black cowls their kind usually wore, but one of them was clad in a red shirt. Lauren looked at me and mouthed the words 'dog meat'.

The captain nodded, and the Rangers shouldered their heavy rucksacks. As they headed down the hill, I picked up my flight bag and followed.

Lauren walked beside me. The ground was wet from all of the rain, but the air was warm and promised that it was going to be one okay day. The sun glistened golden off her long brown hair. She looked at peace. It was hard to believe that behind that sweet face lay a mind that could produce words that would make a sailor blush.

We reached the bottom of the hill and took the northwest fork in the trail. The other fork led southeast to Nodrah. We didn’t need to go that way, and the local constable had informed me that if he ever caught wind of me in those parts again there wasn’t a big enough bribe to keep him from nailing my rancheros to the Welcome to Nodrah sign.

“Well, doll, I guess it’s looks like a pretty good day after all,” I said as I lit a coffin nail.

Lauren took it from my mouth and answered, “I suppose it would qualify as such if one considered spending it traveling upon a muddy trail, while knowing one would end that day by enduring your snoring and tolerating your company in a musty tent, a pleasant time.”

“Sweetheart, you’re about as enjoyable as a good beating.”

“And you, Mr. Moonlight, are a lazy, self-centered, unclean pathetic little creature.”

“I can’t help it, doll. I’m only male.”

“And I would expect nothing more from you than that.”

“If silence is golden, then you must have the market cornered on lead.”

We walked on through the morning, sharing our affection in our own unique way.

The climb grew steeper as we neared Silver Mountain. I started to wheeze like a Hoover with a hole in its bag. I also started to get a bad case of the java shakes and to sweat like a pig with a gun up side its head.

“I would suggest that you need a shower, Mr. Moonlight, but I would not want to confront your feeble brain with such an alien concept,” Lauren said as she fished a coffin nail out of my pocket.

“When you die I want to lead the tickertape parade,” I replied.

“At one time I felt sorry for you, Mr. Moonlight, but then I realized that I was giving you too much credit.”

“Well, if at first you don’t succeed, doll, maybe you need new batteries for your vibrator.”

“I would say that you were lower than a snake, but I would not want to insult the serpentine genre.”

“Well, sister, I’d love to continue this mutual admiration society, but I think I see Jon’s digs up ahead.”

Silver Mountain rose out of the surrounding hills like a chesty fourteen-year-old walking into a grade school locker room. Outlined against the sky it had a rugged charm not unlike a new kitchen carpet. It was the home of Jon_Romulus.

*****

I’d known Jon for ages. Our history went back to grade school. He had studied at the Institute in Hak, traveled widely, and for some reason that I never quite understood returned to live near where we grew up.

Jon was the Master of Silver Mountain, one of the original Rangers, and a wizard. Although that magic mumbo jumbo usually gives me the heebie jeebies, he was an okay joe in my book.

He was also an astute businessman. He turned Silver Mountain into the leading supplier of pipeweed in these parts. Landing The Haven account didn’t hurt. The Rangers smoked more than a well-oiled chimney.

*****

When we arrived, Jon was waiting for us in the master cabin. The place was cluttered with work orders, arcane tomes, and obscure science fiction novels. He looked like he hired the same housekeeper I did, but, as he once explained to me, his system was not 'messy', it was 'busy'. He knew where everything was.

I declined the bowl of pipeweed that he offered. I lit a coffin nail, handed it to Lauren, and then lit another one for me. We sat down while he finished some paperwork. The joe was methodical but about as fast as a slug on barbiturates.

As he filed some log sheets in a pile on his desk, he looked up and said, “Greetings, friend Al. Do tricks be fine?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, Jon,” I answered. “You about ready to take off?”

“Yea, I am finished with my paperwork. We may leave any time, but I would suggest that since it is now late, that we feast and then start fresh in the morning. May I inquire of our route?”

I pointed west and said, “That a way.”

He sighed as he unrolled his map and muttered, “I suspected as much. Sometimes I believe that the hindrance of you help is only matched by the encumbrance of your aid.

“If I were leading the party, I would suggest that we take the trail northwest to Pleasant Plain. We can cross the Dez there and hook up with the Old Traders Trail that will take us to Notirah. Once there you can find a local tracker to lead you into The Great Wastes.”

“You sound like a man with a plan,” I chimed in like a tardy school bell. “Any word on what we’ll find on the trail?”

He shrugged and replied, “I sent out a scouting party. They reported seeing pilgrims headed for the Rah temple, felons, thieves, bandits, and, of course, old traders. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“One question, Al.”

“Shoot the turkey from the hip, bud.”

“Given your track record in these parts, can we expect any trouble along the way?”

“Depends on what you mean by trouble, Jon.”

“Well, in Pleasant Plain, for instance. How will the locals receive you?”

“I don’t see any problems, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless some inn keeper remembers the hefty chit I left, and there is the matter of the magistrate’s daughter.”

I dodged the lamp Lauren threw at me while Jon rolled up his map and muttered, “At least we won’t have to worry in Notirah. The lack of morals in that city is legendary. All they seem to care about is making money.”

“Well, my credit rating is a little shaky in those parts,” I replied.

“Then I guess we will have to treat this trip like one to the dentist. It is necessary, but there will be a certain amount of dread. We will leave in the morning.”

He commanded one of his minions to show us to our quarters. Lauren brushed by me with an icy stare that would have frozen the rancheros on a polar bear. I didn’t see her problem. She knew that I was no Cub Scout when she joined the troop.

But you know how it is with dames. Can’t live with them, and they are the first to let you know why.

Chap. 4

It is said that one could draw a line through The_Midlands halfway between Hak and the Haven. If you took the area below the line and gave it to a room over in JockChat, you would raise the average I.Q. of both places by fifteen points. I tended to agree. Most of these people would need a crib sheet to pick their noses.

Jon had us up and out early the next morning. We were on the trail before I could finish beating my lungs to get them to work. The only thing that kept me going was that the joe brewed one mean pot of psychoactive java.

We arrived in Pleasant Plain late in the morning. Nestled on the eastern bank of the Dez River, it was a seedy little cyburg that functioned as a stopover on the Old Trader’s Trail. You could find the usual trading posts, camp areas, and cat houses expected at such a locale.

The problem with the place was that the residents lived up to the name of the town. A short squat people given to much matted yellow body hair, they were so nice that the sweetness would have dropped a truckload of diabetics in their tracks. After about an hour with the Pleasant Plainers I usually started to search for the antacid.

While the local authorities were shaking down a caravan, we slipped into town without an incident. Jon and the Rangers went to a trading post to load up on supplies. Lauren and I wandered the streets taking in the sights.

I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I wrapped my right hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket and whirled around. Instead of the irate father or bill collector I expected the find, there stood an incredibly oily old man. You could have used his hair for a doormat and counted his teeth on one hand.

“Say sonny, ain’t ya one of Elmo’s boys?” he cackled with breath that could have belonged in the bottom of an outdoor privy on a summer’s day.

“Yes, I am, gramps,” I replied as I lit up a coffin nail to deaden my sense of smell.

“Now let’s see, ya ain’t the sneaky one, Willie. Ya must be that girlie one, Al.”

As Lauren stifled a giggle I hissed to her, “Why don’t you take some matches and go play over at the gas depot?”

I ignored her growing laughter as I continued, “Yeah, the name’s Moonlight, Al_B._Moonlight. So what’s your handle, gramps?”

“Oh ya can call me Old_Geezer. Where ya headin’, boy?”

“Toward, Notirah, gramps.”

“Ah’m headin’ that a way, too. Ya know mah friends call me Old_Geezer.”

“Sure, gramps. Well, it’s been nice getting in touch with our inner selves, but we need to get going.”

“Say, ya think maybe we can join up parties? Ah’m moving a load of skunk cabbage that a way. Safety in numbers out on the trail.”

“I don’t think…”

Lauren’s elbow in my ribs prevented me from finishing my sentence.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “I do believe that would be an excellent suggestion, Mr. Geezer. A larger party would lessen the chance of an attack. Besides, between Jon_Romulus and you, I am sure that I will regaled with many stories of Mr. Moonlight’s youth.”

I shot her a look that would made a dagger seem dull.

Old_Geezer beamed and shouted, “Jon_Romulus! Land tarnation o’ sakes, why didn’t ya say so! He’s got the best pipeweed south of Hak! This is gonna be one fine journey!”

Lauren stuck her tongue out at me and grinned evilly as they sauntered off down the street. I leaned against a lamppost and ran my fingers through my hair. Then I went in a trading post to pick up some coffin nails.

I had a feeling that my smoking was about to pick up.

*****

After lunch at the local Cheap_But_Quick, we joined Old_Geezer’s party on the east bank of the Dez. They were a tawdry party of antediluvian gomers who looked like they bathed in a pigsty. I made a mental note to check the direction of the wind when we camped.

While we waited for our turn in the queue I sat on a rock and chain-smoked like a conveyor belt. Lauren, Jon, and Old_Geezer were engaged in a lively conversation. Occasionally, they would look at me and burst out laughing. I wondered if I should have picked up a couple more cartons.

Finally, our turn came. The Dez is fairly shallow at Pleasant Plain. There is a ford about waist deep. As we waded across I looked back over my shoulder. Jon was walking on the water. I shook my head. He always was a showoff.

Once across we climbed the bank and headed off to the west. The parties soon started to thin out like Aunt Millie’s gopher gumbo. Soon we were alone in the wilderness of the southern The_Midlands. I was miserable as I swatted at my neck. I had prepared myself for the dust, the heat, and the humidity that was thicker than an Irishman’s brogue, but I had forgotten about the gnats.

We walked until late afternoon. Jon sent a Ranger ahead to scout for a place to camp. He returned and guided us to the chosen spot.

While the traders and the Rangers set up camp, I sat down to rest my tired dogs. I ignored the grumbling and icy stares as I reclined against a tree and had a short conversation with Mr. Sandman.

I awoke to find Lauren’s head in my lap. Her eyes still danced with the bemused gleam that they had carried all afternoon. She was really enjoying this.

“Well, Mr. Moonlight,” she said as she took a coffin nail from my pocket and lit it, “as bad as you seem now, somehow you were worse in your youth.”

“They don’t even know the half of it, sweetheart,” I said darkly.

The smile faded from her face, she touched my cheek, and said quietly, “I know, Al.”

“I don’t think you do. Unless you’ve been there, you can’t.”

“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Moonlight, but can you tell me one thing?”

“Shoot from the hip, sister.”

“Is it true that your family was so poor that you couldn’t afford to collect your wits?”

Before I could answer an arrow zinged by us. It flew straight into the chest of the Ranger wearing the red shirt. I shook my head as Lauren and I sprang to our feet. Some people just have to learn the hard way.

We were quickly up to our kiesters in bandits. I welcomed it. I wasn’t in a good mood and wanted someone to take it out on.

Chap. 5

Bandits poured out of the forest like tobacco juice dribbling into a spittoon. Lauren pulled the knife from her boot and proceeded to cut the thief who attacked her a new tattoo across his face.

I turned and walked into a sucker punch. I went down like a bad Italian sausage. As I hit the ground my adversary acquainted my ribs with the toe of his boot. I rolled away, barely missing the sword that hacked at me like a consumptive writer.

He pulled back his blade to strike again, but I rolled quickly in front of him and planted my left palm firmly in his rancheros. His eyes bugged out as he tried to pull his breath out of his socks. I wrapped my right hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket and slammed him into Lullaby Land.

I snaked out my left heel, took another one out at the kneecaps, and jumped on top of him. We wrestled like a couple of well-lubed boys on the bar room floor. Finally, I got the upper hand and cold cocked him like a frozen chicken.

As I leapt to my feet, I surveyed the situation. The brigands were a large crew. However, they had totally underestimated the magic of Jon_Romulus, the fighting prowess of the Rangers, and the dirty tactics of the old traders. It would take awhile, but the scorecard was already signed and turned into the judges.

I elbowed another one in the jaw and spun to see how Lauren fared. She was pinned against a tree while she held off three attackers. Her black leather clad body heaved under her rapid breathing. I stopped for a second to watch. She was one fine looking dame.

Then in the midst of the three appeared another bandit the size of a redwood on steroids. Lauren lunged at him with her blade. He sidestepped and grabbed her by the arm. She kicked him in the rancheros, but that only made him smile.

I grabbed a large limb and laid a Louisville love tap on the back of his head. He didn’t even flinch. His left hand reached out and flicked me away like a fly while his right pulled Lauren off the ground.

I rolled to my feet and quickly laid out the joe that stood between the goon and me. Lauren struggle against his grip, but it was to no avail. I leaped on his back and wrapped one arm around his neck while the other pressed hard against the right temple.

He dropped Lauren and tried to pull me off, but I sunk my hold deeper into his windpipe and rode him like a faggot on a rodeo clown. Slowly, his struggles became less frantic. He dropped to his knees, which allowed me to plant my feet and sink harder into his neck.

Finally he gave out, and I dropped him like a bag of dog waste. I looked up and noticed that Lauren had unleashed her cat o’ nine tails. She pasted the thug’s compatriots like a first grader with a glue gun.

Between swings she said, “I must say, Mr. Moonlight, I wondered when what you pass off as aid would arrive.”

“Sorry, doll,” I replied as I slammed a brigand face first into a tree, “I was double parked.”

It didn’t take the bandits long to see whose side of the bread the butter was on. They were routed like a detour and ran off with their tails tucked in their boots.

Lauren leaned against me and said, “Mr. Moonlight, even with your assistance, we seem to have won.”

I lit us coffin nails and answered, “Sweetheart, they could have carried you off and saved me the trouble of listening to you the rest of the night.”

“After an evening of you, the idea of spending time in chains while dealing with an idiotic man…sounds like an evening with you, Mr. Moonlight.”

The captain of the Rangers approached and said, “Friend Al, we seem to have staved off this invasion with minimal losses.”

“Yes, bud, they’ll think twice about showing their kiesters around here again,” I replied as I removed Lauren’s hand from my wallet.

“Sadly, they will probably be back and in greater numbers.”

“Think so, Sherlock?”

“Yea, and how did you know that my name is Sherlock?”

“Lucky guess, doc.”

“They will return. Desperate men look to desperate measures.”

“I know. Just ask Lauren.”

It was hard to talk with her fist in my kidney.

*****

Jon, Lauren, and I reclined against a tree and watched the Rangers and the old traders eat. I had seen better table manners in the school cafeteria on Spam Day.

I lit a coffin nail and said, “You aren’t going to chow down, Jon?”

He tamped his pipe, looked at the gluttony around the fire, and replied, “I seem to have lost my appetite.”

“I know what you mean, bud.”

“I suppose that it could be worse.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever camped with old traders after they have been to the Cheap_But_Quick on Buck Bean Night?”

“No.”

“You would not want to go there. So, friend Al, you have not told me why you journey to the Great Wastes.”

“Well, after I defeated the NightWeaver at Markit and we routed Blübard’s army like a package forwarded to the Dead Letter Post Office, I had a vision that told me that I needed to go to the Great Wastes to find the answer to the question that will be the question, yada, yada, you know the drill.”

“Yes, I do, my friend. And, Lauren, why did you join him?”

“With him is where I choose to be…for now…” she replied as she took the coffin nail from my mouth.

He nodded and said, “I see. I have been thinking, Al.”

“And what’s the roulette wheel spinning out on the craps table, Jon?” I asked.

“Well, my plan had been to journey with you to Notirah, take care of business, and then return home, but now I feel that I should accompany you on this errand.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what turned in the key in the lock on that one?”

“Partly a feeling, and, partly, what I know, and partly, what you have told me.”

“Could you elaborate? I think something got lost in translation to my hard drive.”

“I had not heard that you confronted a NightWeaver and won. Few have done that.

“Frankly, friend Al, I have often thought that you were about as much help as a bag of catnip in the dog pound. However, now, as unlikely at it may seem, I have underestimated you.”

“Uh, thanks, I think.”

‘Which brings me to what I know. In my research I came upon an arcane text entitled The Tart Mowth Wynchloss. It was written in an ancient Midlander tongue of Maunderanon, but with great patience I was able to translate some passages.

“In one story the text tells of a great evil clad in blue flame riding across the country. The flame would lay great waste to the land. He would be accompanied by horrible wraiths that only one could face.

“That one would be the least likely in the eyes of his compatriots to oppose such evil, but combat he would. First, he would defeat the wraiths and their allies, and then finally confront their master. However, he would have to pay a heavy toll for the power needed to battle.”

“Well, thank you for spoiling the plot for the reader, bud. Uh, what is that price?”

“I do not know. That part of the text I could not decipher.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I would say in all likelihood the evil is Blübard, and, as strange as it may seem, you, friend Al, are the one to oppose him. Thus, I will lend what aid I can.”

After that we were as quiet as a church mouse nipping hooch. We sat under the tree watching the Rangers and old traders tell fish stories, sing sagas, smoke pipeweed, and drink trader grog until they each one by one crawled off to pass out.

Jon nodded and left for his tent. Lauren kissed me and then molded close under my right armpit. I sat and stared off into the distance and the future while mindlessly stroking her hair.

There was really nothing else to say.

Chap. 6

The ground was as soggy as an old maid’s sob story. I crept along as I tried to keep from ruining my last good suit. In the distance some forlorn creature bayed like an open window.

A fog had settled on its cat’s feet over the swamp. I could hear something move in the brush ahead of me. My heart raced like a ’57 Chysler with the foot feet to the floor. Whatever was there, I prayed that it could hear not my heart or my rapid breathing.

After several minutes, I crawled out into an open field. Through the patches in the clouds a full moon bathed the landscape in an eerie ethereal light. Fireflies dotted the exclamation mark of my fear as they raced through the mist.

In the distance I could see a mountain. From it smoldered a blue flame. Something moved in the corner of my vision. I turned to behold a black horse with a pitch-black rider. They raced toward me. I raised my right arm as a shield.

The shape moved through me like I was part of the fog. My body and soul were chilled to ice yet burned with the fears of my most haunted memories. I collapsed as the rider disappeared.

Another appeared in his place and repeated the process. I was numb, unable to move. When he was done another one came. I lost track of how many of them that there were.

From the distant mountain I swore that I heard laughter ring out and sear my soul even deeper. Everything started to fade around me. I was lost in a sea of blue flame as my angst pounded me further into the ground. In the fire I could see the reflection of own eyes. They mirrored me looking back at myself.

I jolted awake with sweat pouring from every ounce of my body. Lauren was sleeping peacefully. I slid out from under her arm, dressed, and crept out of the tent.

The cool pre-dawn breeze felt good on my skin. I went over to the campfire and grabbed the last cup from the java pot on the dying fire. There was no way I would get back to sleep after that nightmare.

I lit a coffin nail and allowed the burning smoke to scald my lungs and deaden my senses. As I sipped the java and smoked I absent-mindedly looked down at my pants.

The knees were damp and grass stained.

*****

The camp roused at dawn. They were surprised to see me awake. I watched as two Rangers grumbled and went to fetch firewood. An old trader gave me an icy stare and started a fresh pot of java. I went to wake up Lauren while the rest worked on breakfast and packing up camp.

Some people wake up with a smile as their umbrella to greet the blue bird of happiness. Others are not unlike the Black Death as it swept across Europe. Lauren fit the latter category. We returned to join the others while I nursed the bruise on my forehead.

Old_Geezer walked up to us and cackled, “Say, sonny, ya look like ya been on the wrong end of a turkey shoot. Ya been out nippin’ the grog after we died last night?”

“No, gramps, I had trouble sleeping,” I replied. “So what do you think we have in store today?”

“Well, I suppose a lot of walkin’ and maybe another bandit raid or two. Things have been purty stirred up in these parts of late.”

“Please continue, but could you turn your head when you talk? Your breath could knock a hyena off the manure rack.”

“Well, it’s always been a dangerous trail, but lately it’s been even worse. Seems someone or something has been uniting these bandit packs like a garmit worker with a bunch of stevedores. Tain’t hardly safe to travel this way no more.”

“So why are you here?”

“Old traders are a stubborn crew, pup. We goes wheres we pleases and when we pleases. Besides, somebody’s gotta git these supplies through for the Turnip Festival.”

“Uh, did you say Turnip Festival?”

“Yesser. Starts about the time we’ll git to Notirah.”

“Okay, gramps. Thanks for the lowdown on the skinny. Well, Lauren and I have to get packed so someone can take down our tent.”

As we walked away, Lauren dug her nails into my arm and hissed, “So tell me about the Turnip Festival, Mr. Moonlight.”

I lit a coffin nail and answered, “Not a lot to tell, doll. The farmers around Notirah are legendary for their turnips. Once a year they have a festival. Carnival, side show, turnip judging, the whole nine yards in the ball of yarn.”

“So what, as you would say, is the anvil in the ointment on this one?”

“Shouldn’t be any problem, doll, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless someone remembers the time I ran off with the Turnip Queen.”

“Mr. Moonlight, just when you have sunk as low as I would think humanly possible, you introduce me to a whole new level of depravity.”

“Put a sock in it, sister.”

“Don’t tempt me, Mr. Moonlight. I know exactly where I would put the sock.”

*****

After Lauren and I had packed I wandered over for a conversation with Jon.

“Hey, bud, how’s tricks?” I asked as he finished organizing his rucksack.

“Tricks be fine,” he replied. “You ready for the day?”

“Yeah, I got my flight bag ready. What wouldn’t fit I slipped in Lauren’s pack.”

“You never cease to amaze me, friend Al. Just when I think you can no longer top your last evidence for a total lack of regard for those around you, you always seem to create a new level of callousness.”

“Have you been talking to Lauren? Say, I got a favor to ask, Jon.”

“Okay, but just remember that I lend no one, least of all you, money.”

“Fair enough, but actually I wanted to borrow I that book from you.”

“You mean The Tart Mowth Wynchloss? You may if you wish, but how will you be able to decipher the archaic tongue?”

“Believe me, bud, I’ve dealt with many an archaic tongue in my day.”

“I know. I have seen some of your dates. Why pray tell do you want the tome?”

“Well, I can’t find a paper out here and miss the funny pages and handicaps. Thought it would give me a little light reading.”

“I see…good luck, my friend.”

“Yeah, I think that we can all use it on this pilgrim’s parade.”

My fingers lightly thumbed the pages of the book as I walked over to Lauren. Jon had learned from this text, but I doubt if he knew the questions that needed to be asked.

That looked like a job for Al_B._Moonlight.

Chap. 7

The weather took a U-turn for the worse. Every day the skies dawned slate gray. A fine mist followed us on our journey west and made the trail slicker than a baby’s bottom. Dry campsites were few and far between.

The bandits had raided us three more times, each time with a stronger host that took longer to repel. Old_Geezer said that he had never seen a crew so intent on sacking the same party.

Between the weather and the brigands no one was in a good mood. We were always as tired and wet as a swim meet at the tuberculosis clinic. Each morning it seemed a little harder to greet the day.

I spent what free time that I had with The Tart Mowth Wynchloss. At first the Maunderanon tongue threw me like a wet duck off a bucking bronco’s back. However, in my line of work you get used to breaking codes. It took me several days, but eventually I was able to read the ancient tongue.

To read it was thing, but to understand it was another. Whoever wrote the tome must have studied at Lewis Carroll Polytechnic. I never had much use for someone who took three ways to say something when two would do, but there wasn’t much choice. I was stuck like an old steak left too long on the grill.

We camped near a shallow stream. At the rate that we were going we would arrive in Notirah late the next day. While the Rangers and old traders set up camp, I pulled out my book and studied. A few things were starting to make sense in it.

I stopped to light a coffin nail and rest my eyes. I noticed Jon and Lauren sat on the other side of the fire. They had been talking quite often the last few days. There were no sparks between them, just the beginning of a friendship more solid than pair of cement overshoes stuck a Jell-O mold.

Of late I hadn’t had much time for Lauren, so I was glad she had found someone to hang out with. She seemed to understand that I needed to get a hold of the handle of the frying pan that I sat in next to the hard place. There was a lot more to the dame than I realized. I just couldn’t figure out what she saw in a joe like me.

As I stood to pick up the java pot, I heard a noise in the brush behind us. I nodded to Jon and Lauren. We quietly signaled the rest of our party. It looked like we had guests, and I doubted that if they were there for dinner.

The wave of attackers hit us like a bowling ball falling into a box of mud. However, whoever directed this assault had pulled out the whole ball of wax with the baby's bath water. This time it was not just bandits. About a third of their crew were sloths. The creatures were big, mean, fast, nasty, and, if possible, had worse hygiene than the old traders.

I picked up the baseball bat that I had found along the trail. It may have seemed like another convenient plot contrivance, but I never looked a gift horse in the hinny. I slammed a bandit with enough force to get the ball in the hole between second and shortstop.

Lauren had drawn her knife and cat o’ nine tails. Any joe lame enough to think that she was easy pickings was soon gumming carrion off the meat wagon. She whirled left and right. In that black leather outfit she was one fine looking sight.

We fought our way back to the rest of our party. The Rangers and the old traders formed a tightly knit circle that repelled wave after wave of attackers. I had lost sight of Jon.

My arms started to ache from swinging for the bleachers. Lauren looked as winded as a sailor in a new port after a buttermilk breakfast. Our circle held fast, but it seemed like only a matter of time before the enemy would overwhelm us with sheer numbers.

Then, suddenly, I saw a clap of thunder and heard a flash of silver light. Jon appeared in the middle of our adversaries. Power poured from him. Those near him started to wilt and crawl off into the brush as they whimpered for their mothers.

As the enemy turned to see what happened we attacked. We slammed into them like a paperboy taking down a jogger. Their line reeled and then crumbled like a week old birthday cake.

But as quickly as we had gained the advantage, the worm took a turn and dived back the other way. A black fog started to weave across the camp. It licked and circled before it finally found Jon. He was soon engulfed. From inside the ebony fog I could hear him scream.

A bandit and a sloth stood between us. I broke my bat taking down the sloth. The thug grabbed me, and we wrestled like two shoppers after the same bed sheet at the January White Sale. I managed to head butt him into submission.

I dived into the fog and pushed Jon out of the way. The mist seared like ice into my soul and burst into flames deep inside me, but I was ready. Deep within was a point where no force could reach save me. I latched on to it and rode out the storm of the attack.

Slowly, I stepped out from myself and carried the light into the inky nebula that surrounded it. The fog fought for a moment, turned, and ran like a butcher after a headless chicken. The bandits and sloths were right behind. I slumped exhausted to the ground.

The next thing I knew Lauren cradled my head in her lap. Her hand softly stroked my cheek as I struggled to stay awake. I felt so tired and drained.

“Mr. Moonlight, even from you that was an impressive display,” she said quietly.

I signaled for her to light me a coffin nail and replied, “I had to do something, doll. The idea of being locked up in some cell with you was a worse alternative than shooting my wad on that.”

“We seem to have won…for now…”

“I don’t think that we will see them again, sweetheart. At least not until after Notirah.”

“Why would you say that, Al?”

“Lauren, they found out what they wanted to know.”

“Which is?”

“That I am here.”

Chap. 8

Notirah lays on the eastern edge of the Great Wastes, along the banks of the Little Sludge River, one of the tributaries of the Dez. It is known by various people as The City That Can Sleep Through an Alarm Clock and The City With A Large Waistband.

Since it is situated at the crossroads of the Old Traders Trail and the Dez Turnpike, the preoccupation of the residents is commerce. In fact, what passes loosely as a system of government is a feudal capitalistic city-state. It is a despotic Wall Street, only with less morals.

For some unknown reason, the leader is called the Truman. He oversees financial disputes, makes sure the streets are kept safe, presides over judicial matters, and maintains the finest cat house between the East and Miz Rivers. All of that he does out of a sense of civic duty and for ten per cent off the top.

The leader at that time was the Truman_Quixote. A squat but rather repugnant man, he was known for his lisp, long fingernails, and the pessimistic chip on his shoulder. However, he was no sissy. When it came to his job and his bankroll, the old guy was as tough as Aunt Millie’s pot roast. He had nailed the rancheros of better men than I to the door of his commode.

Normally, small potatoes like Lauren and me wouldn’t have been granted an audience with him, but Jon carried his weight in a bag in these parts. Money was the only thing these people cared about, and our wizard friend had enough to choke a carp.

Before we entered the chambers of the Truman, we had to go through the obligatory credit check. Luckily, I had been on a good run at the track and managed to squeak by. I was surprised to see that Lauren checked out with a Gold Two rating, which isn’t too shabby in these parts.

I braced my stomach when we entered the chambers. Quixote was acknowledged to posses the greatest black velvet painting collection in The_Midlands. He also had an immense aggregation of those little plants that grew out of ceramic animals.

When we set foot in the room, the court band was playing Louie Louie. I looked in vain for a receptacle where I could deposit my cookies after my lunch. The afternoon did not bode well.

Quixote entered through a door under a banner that read The Buck Stops In My Pocket. He was shorter and slimier than his pictures portrayed him to be. He wore dark sunglasses on a face that reminded one of a bag of marshmallows. A white fedora covered his bald head while an ermine robe concealed his quite remarkable girth.

“Ah, my friend, Jon_Romulush,” he lisped like a hyperactive poodle. “What bringsh you to my humble court?”

Jon bowed slightly and replied, “I bring a shipment of my ever humble pipeweed to your fair city, oh great Truman.”

“Ish that sho? I thought that normally you did not shtop at my court on shuch mattersh. Perhaps you are here to shee my latesht painting, or do you sheek a favor?”

“Neither, oh great one, though if I had known of your priceless new artwork I doubt if wild pigs could have kept me from your door.”

When he had to, Jon could lay it on thicker than a second coat of enamel.

The Master of Silver Mountain continued, “No, I am afraid that we come seeking aid.”

“Aid, favor, it ish the shame to me,” Quixote said as he cleaned his fingernails with a gold gilded toothpick. “Ten per cent off the top, no more, no lessh.”

“Oh, great Truman, this aid deals with the threat of Blübard…”

“He ish no concern of mine. I can buy and shell a dozen of you wizardsh before I rise from eradication.”

“I know in usual circumstances that is true. However, even now we have seen him attack traders along the trail to your fair city.”

“Tradersh be a dime a dozen. More that go, the more will come.”

“And I have it on good authority that he has seized your tax collectors.”

“Hash the man no shame? He musht be shtopped! Notirah will lend aid without ashking ten per cent off the top!”

People stopped and stared. Never had such words been uttered from the mouth of a Truman. You could have heard a paraplegic diver fall off a diving board onto the sidewalk.

He smiled and continued, “Of courshe we will need a hefty non-refundable deposhit…”

Jon agreed and then introduced us.

“Hello, pops, how’s tricks?” I asked as I struck a match on the No Smoking sign to light coffin nails for Lauren and me.

“Tricksh be fine, Al_Moonlight. I remember you now…the Turnip Queen…” he said as he eyed me darkly.

“Uh yeah, well, you see she needed a ride out of town, and I was going that way,” I stammered between puffs.

“No matter, boy. Jon paid off the retainer. That ish all we care about.”

“Good.”

“But if you shee her brothersh I would go the other way.”

“So, pops, we’ve been out on the trail. Any skinny on what’s going on around The_Midlands?”

“For that you will have to talk to my major dromo. I do not concern myshelf with shuch petty mattersh.”

He nodded. From behind a curtain stepped a large unctuous man who wore the grin that he fleeced from the Cheshire cat in a shady real estate deal. He had the look of someone that would sell you the sweat off your body and that you would thank him for doing it.

“Hello, friend Al,” he purred like a well tuned’57 Thunderbird, “do tricks be fine?”

“You!” I gasped like a soccer mom in heat.

*****

His name was The_Fox. I had him met back in my days in Uni when he was selling Bibles door to door to the Jehovah Witnesses. Garth_Ebony introduced us and sat back to watch the debauchery that ensued. We had spent many a night together exploring the local gutters.

Eventually, we both left town. I slipped out ahead of the usual pack of creditors and irate fathers while he bribed the constable to let him leave after a questionable sale of the city orphanage fell through.

We kept in touch, mostly a card and a letter on Bastille Day. He was the only one that I knew who sent his C.O.D.

*****

“Uh, yeah, tricks are okay, Fox,” I replied.

“It is good to see you, old friend,” he said as he pumped my hand vigorously.

I checked to see if my watch and all of my fingers were still there before I answered, “You too, bud, but I never thought you’d live long enough to make it to major dromo.”

“Ah, the gods have graced me with a favorable credit rating. And you, friend Al, you look…alive. Now if memory serves me well, there seems to be a few debits for you in my ledger.”

“Yeah, well my check book is my other suit.”

“No matter, I am well acquainted with the direction that your checks bounce.”

“Let’s cut the blarney and get the dogs on the track. I need some help and some skinny.”

“Let us do the…skinny…first. Talk, they say, is cheap, but I have often found a way to make it profitable.”

“Stow it, junk bond boy. Jon paid the retainer, now I need the dope, the lowdown, the odds on the filly in the third.”

“Sorry, friend Al. You live here long enough, and it becomes second nature. What do you need to know?”

“Any word on the war?”

“Let’s see, Nalrah is still under siege, though I have heard William, Steward of Lombard, continues to try to lift it. In the north, the force that was routed at the Doggs was reformed above Lu, but that army marches west. As for Blübard’s third force, there is no word. Anything else?”

“Yeah, bud. Haze_Havenhoem has been missing like a bad piston. Any lowdown on him?

“I am afraid not.”

“Okay, well that about covers that. Now I need a tracker to lead us into the Great Wastes.”

“May I ask why?”

“No.”

“Do you not trust me, friend, Al?’

“No.”

He smiled and said, “Well, finally you seem to be learning. I will set you up with one of the finest trackers. I think you will be pleased.”

“Better than the 72’ Gremlin you sold me?”

“Much better. I do have a surprise for you.”

“What? The compound interest on my debt?”

“Friend Al, I am hurt. Do you take me for one who is totally callous, greedy, and uncaring?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Why thank you! I can always use a complement in this line of work.”

Again the grin that could sell a dead man his own set of worms beamed into my face like a flatfoot’s headlight. He opened a curtain and a figure stepped forward.

“You?” I said in half disbelief.

Maybe things were taking a turn for the better.

Chap. 9

Life is kind of like a trip to the Cheap_But_Quick. You hope for a good meal, but in all likelihood they still haven’t cleaned the cockroaches out of the French fry oil. I couldn’t complain. I was still alive and kicking hamsters off the sidewalk when most of the bets in the office pool had me checking out to the big Hard Disk in the Sky ages ago. Some joes are just born lucky.

I slipped out of bed while Lauren was still asleep. Her nubile form was covered only with a sheet, and those curves made me want to crawl back in to see if she wanted to play ‘Girl Scout with Her Cookies at the Door’. However, I knew that I had to take advantage of the little quiet time left to me.

No one moved too early in Notirah so the streets still slept like a toddler on Aunt Millie’s corn squeezings. My footsteps echoed lonely along the sidewalks as I headed for the edge of town.

I found a secluded glen with a park bench. I took off my fedora and placed it next to me as I started to peruse The Tart Mowth Wynchloss. The archaic tongue was starting to make more sense, but I didn’t care for what I found.

My mind could only handle so much of the tome’s twisted logic before my head felt like it was filled with used cat litter. I laid the book down, rubbed my eyes, lit a coffin nail, and sat back to watch the scenery.

The morning was slightly hazy but looked like it would burn off for one fine day. I could see the yeoman farmers as they plodded toward their turnip fields. Children skipped off to school. Mothers were hanging up the washing. All of them were totally oblivious to the doom that hung over The_Midlands like a well-used liverwurst.

A touch of envy darkened my mood like a pair of skivvies rinsed with the colored towels. Their lives would be untouched by the perils that we faced. The only way that they would ever know would be if I failed.

While they took it easy in their day to day lives, I had to crawl from here to the next room, combat forces that I didn’t want to think about, and probably ruin my last good suit. They were as oblivious as a college sophomore reading Walter Scott in a LitChat room.

I stubbed out the coffin nail and lit another. The noxious fumes immediately seared into my lungs like a hot poker in the eye. I collapsed in the rheumy pile of pure nicotine indulgence.

Sometimes all it takes is a good smoke to make the sunshine seem a little brighter. I put on my hat, picked up the book, and headed back to our quarters. Not only was it about time to plan our next move, I figured that I had bought the author about a page of filler.

The joe owed me big time.

*****

As I wandered back to the room my mind drifted off to when Fox opened the curtain. Out stepped a joe with short curly blonde hair, a matching beard, and those watery blue eyes you hoped to see on a dame after her third tequila sunrise. He was one of those brawny Northern European types, the kind that could lift a tractor and not need a crane or a gutful of steroids.

His handle was DavRoth_the_Woodcutter. He was dressed in a simple green tunic and trousers. In his right hand was his legendary ax. It was big enough that I would have gotten a hernia just thinking about lifting it.

Dav and I went back a long ways. In fact, he was the oldest friendship that I had. We met the first day Uncle Elmo and Aunt Millie sent me to grade school in Nodrah. Willie and I had been living with them for six months, and the authorities informed Uncle Elmo that we had to go to school instead of scraping manure off the side of the barn.

A bully tried to shake me down for my milk money, but Dav intervened and sent him packing. Dav was so proud that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had my right hand wrapped around my switchblade and was about ready to carve up the snot nosed little twerp like a Decoration Day ham.

We had been good buds since then. When I went away to junior college on a pinball scholarship, Dav stayed around Nodrah. He became as much a fixture in the place as a urinal in a men’s room. He joined the Rangers and acquired a reputation for his tracking prowess, defense of the weak, and ability to drain endless tankards of ale.

After I left The_Midlands we managed to stay in touch, but it was usually just a card and a line on Bastille Day.

*****

After I recovered from the shock of Dav walking in from the bullpen in left field, I lit a coffin nail, and said, “Hi, Dav, how’s tricks?”

“Why tricks be fine, friend Al!” he boomed with a voice like a rocket shot of a cannon as he bear hugged me into near affixation.

“You were about the last joe I expected to see around here.”

“Yea, I happened to be returning from a ground hog hunt. I suppose you can’t join me back home for the feast?”

“Gotta take a rain check on that one, bud. Sorry.”

“Too bad. Bethie_Lou would be pleased to see you.”

I felt a sharp nail jab in my right kidney as Lauren hissed, “Who is Bethie_Lou?”

I ignored the pain and the possibility that I would pass blood for a few days as I asked, “Yeah, so how is your sister, Dav?”

“Oh, she is fine. It took her a while to recover after you ran off, you know, but she and her kids are doing well.”

“Uh, kids?”

“Oh, do not worry, friend Al. She is married, and none of them look like you.”

“Well that’s a relief. Say, Dav we have a favor to ask of you.”

I filled him in on the skinny. He agreed to delay his return home and lead us into the Great Wastes. It was a stroke of luck. Not only was his ax a handy backup in a showdown, he knew every nook and cranny between the East River and the Lost Mountains better than a pud puller knew the palm of his right hand.

It was about time to get the show on the road and sing for our supper.

Chap. 10

Most of The_Midlands is a fairly scenic room. From the majestic fiords of The Doggs to the rolling Central Plains to the forlorn beauty of the Lost Mountains, the place is as pretty as a bathing beauty on a postcard.

Unfortunately, the Great Wastes were not included on the checklist. It was a putrid swamp. A trek through the region was about as inspiring as a visit to a toxic waste site in New Jersey. A joe would have more fun listening to a country swing band play Louie Louie in a Texas speakeasy.

Dav led us into the throat of the jowls of the morass. What passed for civilization quickly dropped away. Soon we were slogging through ankle deep mud. We fought off giant mosquitoes that would eat you on the spot rather than take a chance of carrying you off deeper in the swamp where the bigger ones might take you away from them.

We were as miserable as a French novel about the poor in Paris. Since there was no dry wood, there could be no campfires at night. The others were reduced to dining on cold rations while I had to eat java straight from the can with a spoon. Lauren and I huddled together at night in our tent as much out of the need for body warmth as for pleasure.

Our party had been reduced in size. The old traders stayed in Notirah while the Rangers left to join the attempt to lift the siege of Nalrah. It didn’t matter. Where we were going a small party could move faster and would attract less attention.

I spent most of my free time studying The Tart Mowth Wynchloss. While the book did start to make more sense, the downside was that I didn’t like what it was telling me any more than a patient likes to hear the sawbones say ‘the lump is benign but we need to talk about your liver’.

On the fourth night we camped near a brackish pond. While Lauren cleaned Jon and Dav out in a high stakes poker game, I went to sit on a rock and study the tome. I had been going over the same passage several times.

There will be light that is not a light

Followed by a darkness,

Peer into that darkness

And you will find the light

That will lead you to another darkness,

Eventually, you will be led to another light…

I was as perplexed as a rocket scientist trying to fix a ham radio. I read the next line.

And one more thing…

I stopped to light a coffin nail and rub my neck. The eyestrain bothered me the most, but I knew that I was too young to need bifocals. I turned the page.

LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!

I ducked as a sword swung through where my head had been a second before. I turned to grab a wrist as the blade cut down toward me. My adversary was a sloth. He was stronger than me but a lot slower and about as bright as a twenty watt bulb.

I rolled on my back and allowed his momentum to carry him over my head. Before he could move I was on him like bubble gum on a dog’s coat. I slammed my right palm hard into his throat. Sloths were savage brutal fighters but even they could do little with a collapsed windpipe.

From the campsite I heard the sounds of struggle. I turned and ran back. My friends were fighting a party of sloths. I grabbed the ball bat that I had left sitting by a tree and leaped into their midst like a year with three hundred sixty-six days.

I started tapping a few fielder choices on the heads near me. Dav had unleashed his ax and was stacking cords of sloths. Jon melted those that dared approached. Lauren’s savage response to the assault made my rancheros shrivel up in my body and go for a walk.

We fought valiantly, but there were too many of them. They kept coming like a herd of hyper-active nymphomaniacs. Dav was the first to go down. He was jumped by eight sloths. Even his vaunted strength was no match for sheer numbers. Jon was next, clipped with club from behind like a blindsided offensive lineman.

Lauren and I stood back to back. Her cat o’ nine tails sang out like a dog with its rancheros caught in the furnace door. I held my ball bat firmly and shagged a few grounders off the heads of any who came near.

“Well, Mr. Moonlight,” she said as she tattooed another sloth, “I never thought I would say this, but I do believe that I would prefer an evening alone with you to our present peril.”

I swung for the bleachers as I replied, “Could be worse, doll. Your mother could be here.”

“I did not think it possible, Mr. Moonlight, but these sloths seem to have worse hygiene than you.”

“I don’t think that someone who has been wearing the same black leather body suit for several days has much room to talk, sweetheart.”

“Al…”

“I know, Lauren, I know.”

We were separated by the fierce assault. Lauren’s knife broke piercing the skull of a sloth. She continued to thrash with her cat o’ nine tails like a Shriner at a corn husking bee. However, it was to no avail. She was finally taken down like a steno secretary. I was helpless to aid her.

I continued to play pepper with the ball bat. My arms felt as heavy as a rock opera, but I wasn’t about to abandon ship. However, I knew that it was only matter of time. I was going to take as many possible with me.

I swung high at one and missed. I always was a sucker for an inside curve ball. Another sloth took advantage and landed a Sunday punch in my gut. My bat fell from my hands, and I crumbled like a gingersnap in a Cub Scout’s pocket.

Five of them jumped me like a set of battery cables. The heel of my left shoe greeted the first one. I wrapped my right hand around the roll of quarters in my pocket and brought it out straight into the face of the second.

Before I could strike again the other three were on top of me. I fought, clawed, scratched, and bit, but I could see that the corpulent matron was ready for her solo. Two of them pinned me down while the third gave my jaw a knuckle corollary.

Everything went black as the ace of spades in a coal mine at midnight.

Chap. 11

I came around slowly. I was as stiff as Don Juan at a nacrophelia convention and as groggy as a pug nosed fighter during the Boxer Rebellion. My head felt like it had been on the wrong end of Paul Bunyon’s ax.

Instinctively, I reached for the coffin nails in my suit coat pocket. That was when I discovered that I was shackled to the wall. Sweat started to run down my face like a consumptive cough. There had to be something in the Geneva Convention about denying nicotine to prisoners.

I checked out the room like a confused husband looking for feminine hygiene products at the grocery store. The joint was dimly lit and about as tidy as my bank account. I was alone. I surmised that the others were locked up someplace else.

Across the room I heard the creak of a door as it opened. I squinted and watched a shadowy figure glide into the room. It was a NightWeaver. I assumed that it wasn’t there for a group therapy session.

“Hey, doc, how’s tricks?” I inquired with a parched voice.

“Well, human, I see that you have awakened,” it hissed.

“Yeah, I have trouble sleeping in.”

“You are rather glib for a prisoner. Let’s see just how loquacious you will remain.”

“So I gather you’re not here to discuss the union options on your health plan.”

He raked what passed for a hand over my face. The cold stung deep and burnt into my flesh. Someday I had to learn to keep my trap shut.

“Insolent worm!” he sibilated like a deflated beach ball. “If it were my choice I would not soil myself with your presence. However, my master requires that you be questioned, not liquidated. He did not say why, only that somehow he would be watching my progress."

“Your loss, my gain, doc. You ever thought about counseling? It might help you work out that aggression.”

He slapped me like a dime store hooker. My head bounced off the wall. My mouth was going to get me a lot of trouble.

He turned to a table and started lining up some instruments that would have made an orthodontist green with envy. After a few minutes, he glanced at me. Although his face lacked any discernable features, I couldn’t say that I cared for its expression.

It was time for me to ante up and lay the numbers on the craps table. I allowed my mind to turn inward until I found a light at the center of my being. Slowly, I allowed it to emanate out from me. However, I reached a point and was blocked. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t go any further.

The NightWeaver cackled and said, “Do not tire yourself so needlessly. We are well aware of your power. If you would be so kind as to notice, there is band upon your head. It blocks your power from reaching me.”

“I thought you were just making a fashion statement. Say, I don’t suppose you’d let me have a coffin nail before we get down to business?”

“No. I want your nerves to be as raw and tormented as possible. I desire to enjoy your suffering.”

“No need to do me any favors, doc.”

“No favor is offered, Moonlight. I will truly enjoy your torment.”

“Why doesn’t that statement make me feel any better?”

“As you will see, action does speak louder than words.”

“Then I wish you were mute.”

He slid toward me with a rather nasty looking instrument. I struggled to move away from the red-hot edge as it approached my side, but I could tell I had about as much chance as Uncle Elmo would tip toeing past a sleeping Aunt Millie on Decoration Day.

I screamed in agony.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

*****

Lauren awoke to find herself shackled to the wall with her hands above her head and her feet slightly off the floor. She struggled against her bonds, but it was to no avail. In front of her she heard the sound of movement.

The room was dimly lit. A face came toward her through the gloom. It was a bedraggled man that she surmised bathed as often as he brushed his teeth. He admired the shape of her body as her chest heaved in long restrained breaths.

“Well, girlie,” he rasped, “I see ya have finally decided to wake up.”

“I must say, sir,” she said as she sized him up, “I expected to be dead rather than a prisoner. Given the present company, the former possibility seems a more pleasant alternative.”

“Mouthy wench, ain’t ‘cha? That’s okay. I’ll find something for that mouth to do.”

“My lack of a good man, if you dare approach me, I’ll find new receptacles in your body to house your rancheros!”

“Dun think ya can do much ‘bout that, girlie.”

“Perhaps, but we will see. May I ask one question first?”

“Shucks, shoot ‘er from that lovely hip, girlie.”

“Why am I alive?”

“Boss said that his boss wants ya breathin’ til they figure out what ya up to.”

“And what of the others?”

“You said just one question.”

“Indulge me. I am not going anywhere.”

“True.”

“Where are my friends?”

“Locked up over in the other cell. We put ya in here so we can git some privacy fer our recreation. Now that odd little man in the bad fittin’ suit, boss took him down to hiz chambers fer a little talk.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Anything else before we play?”

“Yes. How many ways can you spell dog meat before I choke the breath from your worthless body?”

Lauren’s legs flew out and grasped the guard around the neck. He struggled but was unable to break the iron grip of the thighs that had brought better men than him to their knees. There was a snap in his neck, and his lifeless body slumped to the floor.

She kicked off her boots and drug his corpse closer. Her feet moved expertly through his pockets until they found the key for the shackles. She grasped the key with the toes of her right foot and swung her legs up to the lock. Slowly, she inserted it in the hole.

Ignoring the pain in her back and wrists, she brought her left foot around to join her right. Together they turned the key in the shackle until she heard the tumblers click. Then she pulled the key from the lock and opened the one on her left wrist.

She dropped to the floor and allowed her body to briefly rest. For once she felt that she had not wasted her money when she studied Karma Sutra.

Her guard still had his sword clasped to his waist. She took it, and then found her cat o’ nine tails on the floor. Quietly, she crept to the door. The hall was empty.

She had to find the others and then save Al.

In her mind no one was allowed to beat upon him but her.

Chap. 12

Things were not going well for me. I had been worked over by experts, but this joe took the cake and ran with it. I would have had more fun getting a root canal from a plumber.

“We will try this again,” he hissed, “but please do take your time. I find your pain and fear to be very enjoyable.

“Glad someone’s having a good time, doc,” I replied while I attempted to ignore his latest probe. “Frankly, I’d rather be playing golf.”

“Do you like golf?”

“No.”

He cackled and slammed an instrument into my leg. The metal was red hot, but it felt like ice as it entered my body. I started to pass out. He slapped me until I was conscious.

“I must admit a begrudging admiration for you. I did not think you could last this long.”

“I’ve been working out. Oh, and one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“When I get out of here, you are used toast.”

“Do you think so? I know that you bested one of my brethren, but he was quite young. I truly do wonder how you would fare against me. However, the point is moot, since you will have no chance to test my powers.”

“Well, doc, glad somebody’s going to get some pleasure out of this. I hate to see all of that energy wasted.”

His arm raked over my body. My reflexes jerked like a mule with a sore hinny. His touch alternated between fire and ice. It drove deep into my body. The only thing that saved me was that my defenses held against his probes of my mind.

I had no idea how long that he worked me over. I felt like a hitchhiker going uphill against traffic. The only thing that kept me going was that I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching me break.

“So are you now ready to talk?”

“Are you ready to give that rod a new home in your body where the sun never shines?”

“Fine. We will start again…”

I really needed to learn to keep my trap shut.

*****

Lauren crept along the dimly lit hall. Her breath sounded harsh in her ears. The only things that she imagined to be louder were the swish of her leather clad legs and her racing heart beat. Ahead of her, she saw light faintly caress its fingers through a barred window on a door.

When she reached the entry, she slowly raised her head to peer into the room. Inside she heard the sound of five or maybe six guards. They had no idea that she watched them.

On the far side of the room were the prisoners. Dav was chained to a wall as she had been. Jon was another matter. Wizards are not as easily kept entrapped. However, Lauren saw that he was encased in a black inky globe, his head was slumped while he drifted under the power of some spell.

“Well, Ms. Bloodcall,” she said quietly to herself,” as Mr. Moonlight would say, it is time to the polish the trumpet and pay the band leader for another request…”

She took a deep breath, counted to three, and burst into the room. Her adversaries were taken totally by surprise. The heel of her left boot caught one with a roundhouse kick as her cat o’ nine tails blinded another one. A third felt the handle of her sword collide with his jaw.

A blade flashed in her direction, but she quickly slid under the thrust. Lauren rolled to the table where she picked up Dav’s ax. She dropped her weapons as she grasped it with both hands, lifted the legendary blade, and threw it toward the man shackled to the wall.

As she dived under a sword and retrieved her weapons the sound of the ax echoed off the wall. She blocked a downswing from a guard’s blade with her sword. She managed a quick look across the cell.

Her aim was true. The ax split the right hand chain. Dav was ready and grabbed his weapon before it fell to the floor. He quickly cut through the other side and joined Lauren in the foray.

They quickly dispatched the enemy. While Dav drug the bodies out of sight, she turned to study Jon’s prison. She had done many things in her day, but magic wasn’t one of them. If Al had been there he might know what to do, but since they still had to rescue him, that option was not available.

Her rucksack was sitting on a table. She quickly rummaged through it in search of the one thing that might work. Dav looked at her quizzically as she produced a small iridescent object that throbbed with a radiance of power.

It was small enough to fit in her palm and shaped like a rectangle with a tab at its top left-hand edge. Slowly, she walked to where Jon was held prisoner. She laid the article on the globe and quickly stepped back.

She placed both hands to her lips as they watched it rapidly change colors and grow. Quickly the object engaged in battle with Jon’s inky trap. The ebony shadow attempted to drain the light. The light in turn tried to flood the evil spell with its rainbow radiance.

Her charm grew stronger as it fed upon the malevolent energy of Jon’s prison. Finally, the globe was spent, and it disappeared. Jon fell to the floor. She checked his vital signs. He was okay but needed a little time to recover.

As she lit a coffin nail, Dav asked, “What by the great pipe of the gods was that?”

Lauren inhaled deeply and replied, “A Wormhole Folder I picked up at a yard sale over in FantasyChat. I would surmise that it was worth the price.”

“I see…you seem as remarkable as friend Al does redundant.”

She sighed, walked over to Dav, stopped with her left knee resting lightly between the woodcutter’s legs, and said through clenched teeth, “I will say this only once, Dav. There is more to Al_B._Moonlight than your feeble excuse for a brain could ever comprehend, so I will allow such a statement from you this once. Is that clear?”

He nodded and said, “Uh, okay, sure. So now what do we do?”

“We wait for Jon to recover, and then we rescue Al. I can only hope…”

“Hope what?”

“That there will be enough of him left to rescue…”

Chap. 13

One of the things about a torture session is that eventually the victim loses track of time. He could have been working me over for five minutes, a day, or a week. I had no idea. The only thing saved me was that he couldn’t reach my mind.

On one hand, my mentor, The_Really_Old_Guy, had taught me a few tricks that kept my mind as closed as a virgin’s thighs during confession. On the other, for once my past actually aided me.

In the great wreckage of my life I had followed the demons of my desires to places that the NightWeaver would not and could not know. He perhaps could intrude upon the edges of them, and maybe reawaken a terror or a regret or two. However, at the core of my being who I was and what I had done was mine and mine alone. No one else could ever go there.

As he studied his instruments of torture, I roused and said quietly, “Having problems with the tools, doc? I’d suggest calling a repair man, but you know those hourly rates can jack a joe something fierce.”

He studied me like an old used book and replied, “I must compliment you, Al_B._Moonlight. I thought that you would have talked by now. I can see that Blübard was correct to be concerned about your power.”

“It must be the vitamins.”

“I admit that I am at a loss. I seem unable to break through the barriers to your mind. As for your body, I am afraid that we have reached point where more torture would be superfluous.”

“It’s a gift. Sorry I rained on your parade.”

“Perhaps I have taken the wrong tact. Maybe the secret can be wrested not through you, but from your reaction to what I do to someone else…”

“Don’t even go there, doc.”

“Ah, yes, the young female. I assume that you humans would call her attractive. In the tracings I have gathered from the edges of your mind, I can see that you have great affection for her.”

“Nah, dames like her a dime a baker’s dozen in these seedy rooms.”

“Possibly, but I think you will react differently when I apply my instruments to her fair flesh…”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Ah, is that fear or anger that I see in your eyes? Yes, my hypothesis is correct. You have made the greatest mistake, Moonlight. You have allowed yourself to care for someone else. That action will lead to your downfall and to your doom.”

“When I get out of here, bud, I going to take my ball bat and play Rosie O’Grady all over that ugly kisser of yours!”

He laughed and answered, “I have been a fool not to realize this sooner!”

“Did your folks ever have any sins that lived?”

“Remember that you are my prisoner and will remain so. After her screams have coaxed the information from your lips, you shall watch all of your friends die, and the dissolutions will be long, slow, and painful. I shall take great…”

Before he could continue the door burst open. Several of the NightWeaver’s guards were pushed back into the room. Behind them my friends charged into the cell like a department store credit card.

“How?!?” the fiend gasped.

Dav slammed a guard like a pinochle deck and roared, “The valiant shall never truly be vanquished!”

Jon melted two into toads as he grimly said, “And the power of the Rangers is the true light.”

Lauren tattooed another and added, “Though I have grave doubts about the socio-political system of this room, I too must join this battle, if for no other reason than to save Mr. Moonlight.”

Jon confronted the wraith. His magic weaved out and surrounded the NightWeaver with fingers of silver lightning. The creature struck back at the bonds but was momentarily bested. However, it was only a matter of time. Jon was powerful, but his incantations were not the proper type to stop the monster for along.

“Lauren,” I screamed, “free me! It is our only chance!”

She fought toward me and said, “Mr. Moonlight, I never thought that I would hear myself say this, but what can do I do for you?”

“Take this band off of my head! It is blocking my power.”

“I thought that you were making a fashion statement.”

“Doll, the nice thing about being male is that I will get to die first and not have to listen to your PMS ravings. Now get your kiester over here!”

She somersaulted under a sword thrust. As the handle of her cat o’ nine tails blocked another blow, she took the knife from her boot and threw it in my direction. The blade caught the edge of the band and ripped it from my head. Any closer and I would have been shopping for a new earring.

I closed my eyes and fought to stay awake. The shackles on my wrist shook and flew open. I fell to the floor like a sack of old socks. Lauren immediately stood guard over me. I didn’t mind. Looking up at her was one fine view.

Jon held the wraith as long as possible, but his vaunted power was starting to ebb. It was only a matter of time before the creature turned my friend into fried potatoes.

The NightWeaver broke free and screeched, “Now it is time for my revenge! You will dearly regret this confrontation, mage.”

I picked up a rock and threw it at the monster. It passed through without touching him. I knew that would happen, but I wanted to get his attention.

“Hey, doc, remember me?” I asked as I inhaled the coffin nail that Lauren lit for me.

“You? Free?” it gasped.

“Yeah, bud, it’s about time that I played ugly as a monkey all over your face.”

It screamed and leapt for me. The others backed away, but I stood my ground and braced for the attack.

The battle was joined.

It was time for me to play Boy Scout.

*****

I was encased in a darkness so black that you’d need floodlight just to make it look inky. It was pure evil, malevolent, all consuming. It tore at my soul and my mind, ripped at the deepest secrets that I carried.

The universe spun around me. I was the vortex that fell into the hole of my angst as the eddy of emotions threatened to tear me asunder. Ice and fire chased me like hounds on the hunt. I raced ahead in an attempt to beat them to the heart of my being.

A joe can do a lot of wrong things in his life. I had done my share, and now they pursued me. Vengeance was to be theirs. I was the victim of my own desires and mistakes.

To the right I saw a light reflect from a set of haunting brown eyes. They called my soul like a siren. I wavered momentarily. Ahead of me lay darkness, the pure darkness of what I hid from even myself. The eyes were tempting. I gazed transfixed into them. I was the moth and wondered if this was where my wings punched that ticket on the End of Existence Express.

Then a familiar voice touched me like the song of a flute. I flowed in the music's soothing golden light for only an instant, but in that time the spell of my own delusion was broken. There was only one route to salvation. I knew it. The path led through my own terrors.

As the ebony flames encased me in ice, I wrapped them close to me and leapt into the horror of my mind. The ghosts walked the streets of my memories and laughed at my clouded recollections, the truth of what I was at last revealed to me. I didn’t care that much for what I saw.

But then deep within me another light flickered. This one was the true illumination and core of my being. I drug the heavy flames and ice of my ebon attacker with me. The closer I approached, the stronger I grew. The physical exhaustion that I carried into me fell away. I touched the power that was me.

I turned and marched back into the jowls of my antagonist. Fear coursed from his being as he poured all of his venom in my direction. However, I was unscathed. The glow of my being protected me from his attack.

Anger moved through me, but it was controlled. I viewed all of the evil that he had produced, the suffering that he created. I saw the plans that he had for Lauren. From me poured a heat of righteousness. It consumed his being and shredded him like a fine thinly sliced ham.

Finally, he ebbed to a wisp. He begged for leniency, but I showed him the mercy that he had given to so many others and to me. Then right before his existence ceased, I caught the sight of a light flickering within his being. He attempted to block it from me, but I was able to grab it before he faded into nothingness.

What I found shocked me like a blender thrown in the bathtub. Here lay where my journey would next take me, but I didn’t know if I wanted to go there. I stood within myself for a long time before I could believe that it was so.

I waited as long as I could, but, finally, it was time to rejoin the others. I would tell them what they needed to know when it was required of me. Until then I was going to be as tight-lipped as an old maid with a jar of petroleum jelly.

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed, even if it is on the wrong side.

Chap. 14

It was early morning, and the singing outside my window made me want to strangle the bluebird of happiness. Lauren had thrown open the window and pulled back the curtains. I was bathed in sunlight while a cool breeze wafted gently over my blankets. The dame really knew how to honk my horn when I tried to sleep in.

I sighed and reached over to the nightstand for a coffin nail. The pack was empty. Lauren had taken the last one. I yelled for her, but there was no response. Then I recalled that she went to Nodrah with Dav for supplies. This was starting out as one hunkie dorie day.

We had been back at The Haven for a week. The local sawbones said I’d be laid up for at least another two. I wasn’t fond of being bed ridden, but at least it gave me time to sort things out. There were a quite a few jokers on deck in the batting circle.

I didn’t remember much after my battle with the NightWeaver. There were flashes as Lauren cradled my head, checked my pulse, and went through my pockets. About the only other thing I remembered was Dav lugging me over his shoulder like he did when we were kids. The rest of it was one big fever dream.

When I finally got my cookies back in the jar, I was in a hospital in Notirah. The care was good, but the rates were steeper than a dirt bike track in the Rockies. Luckily, The_Really_Old_Guy had insisted that I keep my medical insurance premiums paid up.

After a couple weeks of rest, I had the honor of traveling back to The Haven in the back of one of Old_Geezer’s turnip wagons. During the trip I made a mental note to visit the chiro when I was better.

They said that I would soon be as fit as a fiddler spitting in a bassoon. I wondered though. I was pretty banged up. Other joes had trashed me bad at one time or another, but I never remembered taking this long to pull it back together.

Still, I couldn’t complain. I could have died in that fight. I don’t think that anyone but Lauren knew what it had taken out of me. She surprised me with how good of nurse she was. The dame had even gotten me over my childhood fear of soapy sponge baths.

She had left me a basin of water and my straight razor. I guess that she giving me a hint. While I shaved I noticed a few lines around my eyes. I hadn’t seen them before.

I checked my watch. It said 8:30. Lauren would be back soon. I finished shaving and lay back exhausted in the bed. It was going to take a while to pull through this one.

We would have to pick up the pieces and try to fit them back in the puzzle. I wasn’t excited about the next leg of the journey, but if we wanted to pull this nine iron out of the fire, there was no other choice.

I wondered what reception I would receive there.

I hadn’t been to Uni in a month of Blue Sundays.

Part IV: The Temple of Gloom

Chap. 1

The night was darker than the inside of a black loafer. I stumbled around the room like a punch-drunk rummie looking for some kind of light. All I managed to do was to give my right big toe an impromptu manicure with the bedpost.

The knock on the door grew louder than my intestines after a cheap Indian dinner. I managed to find the doorknob and fumbled with it like a sophomore girl discovering the inside of her gym instructor's sweatpants.

A wind colder than my junior college counselor's attitude blasted into my face. Lightning flashed to reveal a figure tottering like a barfly after a bromide fizz. He was a large bear of a man, the kind of joe you expected to see blitzing you when the offensive lineman missed the block.

He tumbled on top of me, and we both crashed to the floor. As I extricated myself from underneath his prone form, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me close. I could tell he hadn't been keeping up on his oral hygiene.

"Uni, Al," he gasped like a prostrate carp. "Uni, it is…I hoped different…but the secret lies there…"

As he slumped to the floor for a quick trip on the Slumberland Express, a voice like a grumpy cat in heat purred from the bed, "Mr. Moonlight, by now I expect no more from you than I would from any other human who justifies his existence through his rancheros, but if you do not be quiet I shall have to put them in a jar on the shelf."

I lit a coffin nail and replied, "Get your head out of your kiester, doll. It's Haze. He's hurt, and I don't think this is a random social call."

She leapt to the floor with an agility and speed that made me want to drop Haze_Havenhoem, crawl back in the sack with her, and play a quick round of 'Parson in the Egg House'. Her long brown hair hung loosely over her lithe frame as she knelt to check out his wounds.

"I am loathe to admit it, but for once you are right, Mr. Moonlight," she said quietly as we helped him to a nearby chair.

As I lit a coffin nail for her I said, "Well, sister, you gotta call them strikes if it quacks like a duck."

"The idea that chat technology could create a creature such as you makes me question if there is progress through such science."

"I'd let you go for a walk, sweetheart, but I wouldn't want to the dog catcher to waste his time picking you up."

"It is a good thing you have no parents, Mr. Moonlight. Such people would have to question their sanity for bringing you into this world, not to mention their gene pool."

"You know, I can think of better things for that mouth to do than blather like a bantam rooster with his skivvies too tight."

"So can I, but I doubt now that if you will experience it in the foreseeable future."

"By the Great Bowl of the Gods, can't you two do anything but fight!" Haze thundered like cheap wind in tight pants. "A man could bleed to death and be glad he did so he wouldn't have to listen to you anymore!"

"Uh, sorry, Haze," I stammered sheepishly. "We get carried away sometimes. So how's tricks?"

He sighed and replied, "Al, I do believe that you prove there is a traffic jam on the evolutionary highway. Tricks…do not be fine…"

He proceeded to tell us tell a tale that made the hairs on my rancheros curl up and want to take the dog out for a walk.

*****

There will come a time when the fate

Of the land will lie

Within the hands of one

Whom you would expect to have such hands

Rummaging through your pockets

Do not be afraid

But yet do not mortgage the family farm

To place a wager upon his chance of success

However

He is all we have

Do not worry

I will talk to him…

- The Tart Mowth Wynchloss

*****

After Lauren finished dressing his wounds Haze settled back in the easy chair. His brooding dark eyes reflected a despair that I had seldom seen in him. Either things were bad, or he had the mother of all hangovers, or both.

Lauren went to the kitchen. When she returned her right hand held a somewhat clean glass filled with a rather evil looking concoction. Haze took the glass and downed about half of it. He immediately spit most of it out.

"Zounds!" he exclaimed in a voice that boomed like a thunderstorm on cheap whiskey. "What be this foul brew?"

Lauren shrugged and answered, "Lime soda and peppermint extract. Given Al's history, it's the closest thing to a real drink I can keep in the place."

Haze nodded and finished it. As the alcohol drove the dangerously high blood count out of his system he started to relax.

He said quietly, "As you may have noticed, I have been absent in these parts of late."

"Yeah, you've been more scarce than pocket change on Tuesday before payday," I chimed in like a cheap bell.

"Yea, Al. Before you left for The Doggs, I received word of strange happenings in the north near Lu. I felt it best to keep it under my hat and close to my vest.

"So I journeyed alone. What I found made my blood run colder than the copper and zinc alloy rancheros on a well excavator's simian."

"Yeah, it must have been grave. You were gone a long time," I said somberly.

He stretched and said, "Actually, I could have returned sooner but was distracted by the legendary cat houses of Lu."

Lauren sighed and muttered, "Of course."

"Woman!" Haze bellowed. "Don't you have some dishes to do or children to birth?"

She cleaned her nails with the tip of her knife and replied, "Well, I would suggest pickling your rancheros, but I surmise that someone has beaten me to the task."

"You know I get really tired of your pesky mouth, woman!"

"I believe that is fair. I grow weary of crashing bores whose vocabulary is restricted to scratching their genitals."

"Uh, so, Haze, what did you find up north?" I said desperately trying to get the subject back on track.

"You are right, for a change, Al. This matter is more pressing, but heeds my words the day will come, woman, when you will regret talking to me with such words and tone!"

"I'll remember to mark it on my social calendar," Lauren shot back as she left the room.

Haze turned to me and said, "She is quite the spitfire. What do you see in her?"

I thought for a moment and said, "You know, Haze, I really hadn't thought about it. I wasn't expecting anything with her. I only needed her for a mission. Then she just stayed. Now I'm used to her being here…"

"Seems to me she's using been those cat o' nine tails on something besides the enemy's backsides."

"You don’t want to go there, bud. So what happened on your trip?"

"Well, I arrived in Lu. The trail soon led me to Stubs Abusement Hall in Uni."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"By the way, they still have your chit. Anyway, after a few tankards I loosened the lips of a comely young wench. While she slid under the table to tie my shoes I engaged the proprietors in a lively conversation.

"Seems many strange goings on in those parts: frogs raining from the sky, the River of Lu flowing with cheap hooch, Sloth patrols, canines engaged in carnal pleasures with felines…"

"Been there, done that."

"…but mostly a fear you could taste in the air. Everyone walked while looking back over their shoulders, which meant you ran into a lot of people."

"Any skinny on why?"

"Yes, and I am afraid you won't like the answer."

"Well, shoot it straight, bud. I've got a hold of my boxers."

"That I can see, and I wish you would put them on before a guest arrives."

"Haze…"

"Very well. It is the Sisters. They have returned."

"What?"

"Yes."

"But I thought…"

"You thought wrong."

"Weren't they…"

"Yes, but that is over."

"Then…"

"Yes."

I lit a coffin nail, flipped him the pack, and wandered to the window. The storm had cleared. A cold harsh moon lurked on the edge of the sky, illuminated the forest near the cabin with a mocking eerie light. I didn't care for what I had just heard.

I had been through a lot of late and was prepared to walk to hell in the handcart that I was pushing to go the rest of the way.

But I was not ready for the Sisters of Gloom.

Chap. 2

Haze_Havenhoem was another of my childhood cronies. In our younger days there wasn't any lad around Nodrah that he hadn't led down the path of debauchery or any dame whose cherry didn't reside in his glove compartment.

He somehow survived his youth and had become the Marshall of the Rangers, that plucky band that defended the honor of The_Midlands while attempting to drain every tankard and tip every skirt between The Haven and the West River.

We had parted ways long ago but managed to keep in touch over the years. It was usually with a card and a line on Bastille Day.

*****

I finished my coffin nail and lit another one. Then I turned and walked back to where Haze sat. He had found another of Lauren's lime soda and peppermint extract concoctions. I swore that the joe would drink anything short of battery acid.

However, he was a steadfast fellow, and the kind of ally you wanted to cover your backside in a scrap. His long black hair and beard shouldered a very impressive frame. He was as good as anyone in these parts with a broad blade and was the dirtiest alley fighter this side of my Uncle Elmo.

Before I could speak Lauren entered the room. She had changed in into her black leather body suit. Her expression was one of the toleration that you would expect to see on the face of a grade school teacher on Popcorn Day. In her right hand was an egg.

"I have an demonstration for you two," she said grimly. "I am sorry that I do not have diagrams but perhaps your feeble minds can follow if you watch my lips closely."

She raised the egg and said, "This is the human brain."

Then she splattered the egg off the wall behind our heads and continued, "That is the human brain when it resides in a male body."

Without another word, she walked out of the cabin. My eyes were glued to her like a tack to a side of beef. She was one fine looking dame.

"That time of month?" Haze grumbled.

I shrugged and replied, "In her case it usually is."

"Now where were we?"

"You had mentioned the Sisters of Gloom. You know, I wasn't surprised about Uni. After our encounter with Blübard's forces in the Great Wastes I knew I was headed in that direction, but the Sisters…"

"Yes, it does hit you like a medicine ball into a side of Spam."

"So how do they tie into the whole ball of wax?"

"I am not sure. I know that they have returned. I know that they have Uni and Lu in an uproar. Are they the evil mage's allies or rivals? That I do not know. I am afraid that will be your mission."

"Uh, my mission, kemo sabe?"

"Yes, I am afraid I have been too long from my duties at The Haven."

"How convenient for you."

"It's a gift. By the way, Al, watch it. I know that kemo sabe means dumb cowboy."

"Uh, okay. So when do I leave?"

"When can you be packed?"

"I travel light, so I can leave any time. Of course, Lauren will take a little longer. You know how dames are…"

I ignored the knife placed expertly in the wall just below my ear. It did tell me, however, that she had returned.

Haze stood, walked toward the kitchen, and said, "Good. Then you will leave at dawn. I will assign a party of Rangers to escort you when I am done here."

I lit a coffin nail for Lauren and inquired, "So we got some more lowdown on the skinny to go over?"

"No, I found another bottle of peppermint extract. I seem to have acquired a taste for the stuff."

Chap. 3

Early in the morning Lauren and I headed up to the main station. There seemed to a hullabaloo processing like a Pentium, and there were no go-go dancers in sight. Haze had a small waifish figure pinned to the wall. He seemed to be reading him the riot act or throttling him or both. With Haze it was hard to tell.

"Al, this creature claims that he is an ally of yours!" the erstwhile leader of the Rangers blared like a bent trumpet.

As I lit a coffin nail and passed it to Lauren I replied, "Afraid so, Haze. How's it going Jewels?"

"Oh, hi, Al," the slim blonde haired figure said as he broke loose of Haze's grasp. "I'm okay. I wasn't doing nothing."

"Uh huh. Bet you got some prime beach property for me too, kid."

"Well…"

"Give it back to him, kid."

He walked over to Haze and handed the Marshall back his wallet.

"All of it, kid," I said as I lit a coffin nail.

Jewels handed Haze back his watch, the pack of condoms from his pocket, and the deed to The Haven. He looked at me again. I nodded. He handed Haze his boxers.

"Good thing you came along, Al!" Haze boomed like a congested stick of dynamite. "I was about ready to tear this varmint a new hole where the sun don't squat!"

"Yeah, come on, kid," I said as I led Jewels away from the fuming Haze. "We gotta have a chat."

*****

Little_Jewels was a fourteen-year-old gay flake that I found wandering on the streets of GenChat. Not only did the kid have a slick pair of hands he was endowed with psychic abilities. He had pulled my fat out of the frying pan before, and I figured that he would be of use now.

I had been waiting for him to show up for a while. It was going to be interesting to see what he had been doing. It was also going to be a treat to smooth things over between the Rangers and him.

I took him out behind the woodshed. He looked a little nervous, but I chalked that up to his first encounter with Haze. Such an experience could be unnerving for about anyone. I sat down to polish my baseball bat while he calmed down. For some reason he seemed even more agitated.

"Look, kid, I'm glad you're here, but we have to set some things set straight," I said.

He watched my hands, backed away, and gulped out, "Okay…Al…say have you read about how they're cracking down on child abuse in GenChat?"

"Really? Look, that's neither here nor there, but someplace else if you catch my drift."

"I hope that's all I catch."

"Look, Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore."

"Al?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Have you been snorting tea bags again?"

"Don't change the subject. Things are a little different here."

"I noticed."

"The Rangers are good people, but they have their ways. One thing they don't like is a thief. They'll put up with you if I say we need you, but keep your hands out of their pockets…which brings me to the other thing…"

"Yes, Al?"

"These joes are about as straight as a school marm's hinny. So don't go dunking for any gherkins, if you know what I mean."

"If you say so. So what's up?"

"You showed up just in time. We're getting ready to leave on a mission, and you could be of use."

"Kewl. Where do we catch the trolley?"

"Kid, there are no trolleys out this way. You have to hoof it."

"Walk? Al…"

"Look, you'll get paid well."

"Okay, I guess."

"Good. Here, you can carry my flight bag."

*****

When we returned Haze was madder than when we left. While we were gone Lauren had cleaned out the crew in an impromptu poker game. You could have steamed clams on his forehead.

"Friend Al! Have you ever played cards with your woman?" his voice burned like a bombed out '59 Chevy pickup.

"Gave it up for Lent, bud," I replied as I lit coffin nails for Lauren and me.

"By the thunder of the Gods of the Great Bowl’s briefs! I know that she was cheating, but I cannot figure out how she did it!" he bellowed like a spent forge.

"And how do you surmise that, kind sir?" Lauren asked primly.

"How else could a woman defeat a man like me?" he replied.

"I am afraid the list would be too long for your attention span to follow."

"Are you insulting my intelligence?"

"No, I did that earlier. I am merely stating a fact."

I decided it was time to change the subject. Lauren was one tough cookie, but I didn't think she knew quite what she was getting into with Havenhoem. He tended to keep his enemy's bones to use for toothpicks.

"So, Haze, how many are you sending with us?" I asked.

He answered, "I reckon a party of five will do. They will offer protection, yet should be able to travel fast enough. That is, if your friends can keep up."

"Sir, the only way you could keep up with me would be with a keg of viagra and a good dictionary," Lauren said as she left to get her rucksack.

"So, bud, you going to introduce me to the captain of your party?" I asked as I pushed Haze away from Lauren.

He watched her darkly for a minute and then shrugged. He beckoned for me to follow.

" Al, this be the captain, Chuckster__," he said.

I shook the captain's hand and said, "Pleased to meet you, doc. Say, you look familiar."

"As do you, Al_B._Moonlight. Were you not at one time the piano player at the Tahiti Lounge over in GenChat."

"Guilty as charged, doc. You've been there?"

"Yea, I've drained my share my share of tankards and trussed my passel of wenches in the establishment."

"Did you know Daybreak12?"

"Who hasn't?"

We enjoyed the laughter of our shared joke. Daybreak was my boss at the Tahiti. I wouldn't say that she was easy, but the backs of her high heels were worn to a forty-five degree angle.

I liked the joe, so I said, "Say, doc, are you partial to that red shirt you're wearing?"

"Why yes I am," he replied with a perplexed tone.

He continued, "The last time I saw Daybreak I pledged my love to her. She was quiet for a minute. Then she gave me this shirt and said to be sure to wear it on my next mission. I would rather die than remove it now."

I bit my tongue and nodded. Some joes just have to learn the hard way.

I headed back to check on Lauren. It was about time for us to head north.

Chap. 4

We walked north, out across the Wyldes, that forlorn country that separated the southeastern of region of The_Midlands from the city-state of Hak. The terrain was about as damp as a jock strap after a good workout.

Although the travel was slow, the Rangers had cleared the Wyldes of Blübard’s minions, and it was now fairly safe, so Chuckster__ had time to drop back in line to chat with me. I still cringed when I saw his red shirt. He had no idea what was going to happen to him.

"It be a fair day, friend Al," he said quietly.

"Yeah, it would be a nice morning for some horseshoes at the church ice cream social," I replied.

"Have you recovered fully from your torture and battle in the Great Wastes?"

"My dogs still get pretty beat after I hoof it for awhile, but I'll hold up. You heard any skinny about Blübard's armies or the siege of Nalrah?"

"The iron ring still stands around Nalrah, but there is hope that the Steward of Lombard will lift the siege. Let us pray to the Great Gods of the Bowl that is true. We sorely need the Dwelven blades that are pinned within that fair city.

"The word from the north is that the army you routed at Markit has reformed near Great Lake. However, the evil mage seems to be more cautious after the defeat. Our scouts say that the force is moving to ring the southern perimeter of Fier Mountain."

"What about the third army?"

He shook his head and continued, "There is no word. The northern cities are braced for any attack, but the waiting strains the nerves of even the hardiest soul."

I took a long drag off my coffin nail and said, "Yeah, my Uncle Elmo always said if you're waiting for grub cakes the hardest part is watching the batter pour into the lard in the skillet."

"You seem to have strange family, Al_B._Moonlight."

"You don't know the half of it, doc."

We walked in silence until we stopped for lunch. While the Rangers prepared the noon rations I wandered off to a comfortable shady spot under a tree. I was as tired as the wheels on a '53 Buick. For some reason I just couldn't shake the fatigue like I used to.

I pulled out The Tart Mowth Wynchloss and looked around to make sure no one was watching me. The Rangers thought I had enough glue missing from the factory as it was. They didn't need to see what I was about to do.

I laid the book on the grass, opened it, cleared my throat, and said, "Uh…hello book…"

"Hello, Al_B._Moonlight, do tricks be fine?" it answered.

"Yeah, I guess so. Wouldn't do me any good to complain if it did."

"So you have discovered that I can talk with you."

"Yeah, sister. After you gave me the warning about the sloth sneaking up on me in the Great Wastes, I started to put two and two together. It didn't take a computer technician with a slide rule to figure it out."

"I see. You can surprise me, Al. May I call you Al?"

"Sure, doll. That's my handle, just don't wear it out."

"As I was saying, you can surprise me."

"How so?"

"Even within your mediocrity, there does lie a glimmer of hope for The_Midlands."

"Thanks, I think. So I'm not what you were expecting."

"Actually, I was hoping for Humphrey Bogart or Mickey Rourke, but we must accept what the Fates drop in front of us."

"I see…So can I ask a question?"

"That is why I am here. You may ask me anything…"

"What's the purpose of this dog and pony show?"

"…except that one…"

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I will give you a word of advice, though."

"Shoot it straight then, sweetheart."

"Circumvent the city of Hak. They have reissued your warrant."

"Which one?"

"Remember the mayor's daughter and the church raffle scam?"

"Oh, yeah, that one. Okay, thanks for the tip, Agatha."

"Any time, Al. That's why I am here. Oh, one more thing. The secret of the Sisters lies where the four become one. You do remember that place, Al?"

"Yeah, doll, I slept there for about a month one time. Any more lowdown on the scoop?"

"At the present, I am afraid not. Check with me when we get nearer to Uni. I will tell you what I can. In my own cryptic way, of course."

"I would expect no less out of you. See you around the rooms."

I closed the tome and headed back to the bivouac. I wasn't even bothered by what had just happened. The way things were going it almost seemed normal. My life was becoming twisted faster than it was turning strange.

*****

The Rangers displayed the culinary habits that made their crew legendary. In other words, pigs would be embarrassed to eat with them. Whatever ideas I had of dining with the crew turned as quickly as my stomach. I lay down to saw off a few z's while I had a chance.

I quickly punched a ticket on the Lala Land Zephyr. Soon I started to drift and float gently. It was like my mind had left my body, and I floated high over the landscape. I headed north toward Uni with only a quick pause to scope out the college dames at the Institute in Hak sunbathing on the Quad.

Over Uni I caught sight of what I sought, where four became one. I drifted slowly in that direction but was stopped by some kind of barrier. On the other side of the boundary I saw the faces of three dames. They laughed at me.

Then I felt another force pull me. I tumbled like a pair of shaved dice in the direction of the energy. I fought but felt compelled to continue toward a song that vibrated into the depths of what passed for my soul.

A figure appeared. She had one of those bodies like a brick bodice on a department store mannequin. I stood transfixed memorizing every curve that she threw in my direction. Then we locked eyes. I had seen those orbs before. They were dark brown and as haunting as the melody that drew me to her.

Somehow I knew that she was the key to my journey. I knew we would meet before my quest ended. I also knew that I would never be the same.

I gazed into those eyes that sang in my direction. Locked like a moth to a flame I couldn't have torn away if I wanted, which I didn't. The closer I came, the greater the danger I perceived and yet the more comfort at the same time.

Finally, I was close enough that I could view my reflection in her eyes. My face looked haunted, older than I remember it being. I caught sight of my eyes. The gleam from them was hollow. A fire flickered in each eye. One was a blue flame, the other gold.

"Come to me, Moonlight," she sang with a voice that numbed me like an ice cube in a glass of gin. "Come, you have no choice. I am your destiny, I am your fate. You can bypass me as much as you could cease breathing…"

From behind me I felt a calm energy emanate in my direction. I was able to turn my head. I saw a blue pool, inviting, refreshing, cool after my long journey. Despite the lure of her song I drifted back to where I started. Slowly, my mind returned to my body.

As my eyes focused I found myself staring into the placid blue eyes of Little_Jewels.

Lauren held my head in her lap, stroked my face, and asked quietly, "Are you okay, Al?"

I replied, "I am for now, doll, I am for now."

I turned my head away from her. I didn't want to talk about it.

Chap. 5

We camped in a glen near the Wa River. Chuskster__ took a couple of the Rangers into Hak to pick up supplies. I heeded the advice of the tome and stayed behind. Cooling my heels in the pokey wasn't my idea of fun afternoon at the park.

I was feeling better. I surmised that getting out of the cabin and doing some exercise was good for me. However, I wasn't sleeping well. Every time I nodded off that face with the brown eyes haunted me like a bad credit rating.

As I sat under a tree and opened the book, Lauren watched me intently. Ever since the dream I had been feeling distant from her. I had been begging off on our evening parlor games. I figured that when happened she would be out of my tent faster than Uncle Elmo dodging a revenuer.

I was wrong. She never spoke about it, but I could see that she was concerned about me. I wanted to tell her what was going on, but had no idea myself. I might as well have been a blind man trying to translate the Rosetta Stone.

"Hello, Al. Do tricks be fine?" The Tart Mowthful Wynchloss asked.

"I've had better days," I replied as I lit a coffin nail.

"I can see that. Do you get enough fiber in your diet? No offence, but I've seen healthier looking grave diggers."

"Guess I'll have to visit my manicurist, doll."

"It's the dreams, isn't it?"

"Of course. I don't lose sleep over my bookkeeping skills. I suppose I can't ask you about that one either, can I?"

"Sorry…"

"You know for a smart mouthed omnipresent volume you're pretty tip lipped."

"You should read the preface some time. It would tell what I can't tell you."

"I'll keep that in mind, sister. Can you at least give me her handle?"

"She is named BrightSun_Ecstasy. She is a siren. I can tell you no more."

"Siren huh? Funny didn't look like a cop."

"Al, I truly do wonder how you are able to salivate and live at the same time."

"Uh, sure. So what's the skinny on her?"

"She lures men into her clutches by haunting them through their dreams until they are unable to resist the temptation of her when they finally do meet. Then she removes their souls to a place of her keeping. I don't know much more or want to. I tend to be a prude about such things. She has been employed by the Sisters to guard the entrance to their lair. I can tell you no more."

"You know if she's dating anyone?"

"Al, Al, Al, I would tell you to forget all about her. Sitting right behind you is more of a woman than you would deserve or be able to handle. She wants you, you know. She doesn't know why, as neither do I, but she does.

"But what's the point? You're as thick headed as the others."

"The others? You've done this before?"

"Did you ever hear me say 'Be gentle with me, it's my first time'?"

"Don't suppose you could give some skinny on that either?"

"What do you think?"

"That's why I didn't ask. Got anything else to lay on me, sweetheart?"

"When the time comes at where the four becomes one, look behind you. It will not be easy to do, but you must. The one you need will be there as that one is always, even if you are too totally insensitive to notice."

"Okay, later, doll. See you around the rooms."

"Farewell, Al."

I closed the book, put it in my flight bag, and walked over to sit next to Lauren. I lit us both coffin nails. We sat quietly and watched the sunset as it burned a crimson pattern into our memories.

No words were needed at the moment.

*****

Chuckster__'s party returned just after sundown. They gathered with the other Rangers around the fire and proceeded to feast. If you looked up gluttony in the dictionary you'd find their picture.

After dinner, they drained endless tankards of ale, smoked countless bowls of pipeweed, and sang Ranger sagas in their annoyingly off-key voices. Finally, one by one, they crawled to pass out into comatose little heaps.

I sat by the fire long after Lauren had gone to bed. What small comfort I found in life these days came from watching the embers glow like my recollection of the face of BrightSun_Ecstacy. The flames crackled and licked at the wood like my memories of an evening long ago.

I remembered her now. She came into Stubs one night when I was the piano player. The dame filled the room with chat pheromones so thick that you could have cut them with a butter knife.

She leaned over my piano and showed me a cleavage that put the Royal Gorge to shame. I bought her a couple of drinks. She never said a word, only smiled. Every joe in the place came by and asked her for a fuzz bumper during a slow song, but she politely shook her head no.

The beauty of her eyes transfixed me. She made me feel like a schoolboy, all elbows and wet behind the ears. I usually had no problems in those days spinning a dame a tale that led straight to my bed, but with her I was as tongue tied as a Boy Scout with a new rope.

When my set ended, I cleared out the tip jar and started to follow her out the door. She stopped me with a gentle hand placed against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat through her fingers. It matched mine.

"No, Al_B._Moonlight," she sang in a voice that made the front of my pants want to leap onto her face. "This not be your night. Soon twill be. Until then remember that I wait for you…"

She was gone. I searched the streets for awhile before I got distracted by an evening of debauchery and five card stud with my old friend, Garth.

It took a lot of booze and several trips to the cat house to get that voice out of my mind. I hadn't thought about that night in years.

Now she was back, and a lot closer than I wanted to think about.

Chap. 6

In the morning we crossed the Wa and headed north to catch the Boulevard of the Martyrs, the great toll road that linked Hak to Lu. The route was expensive, but I had my Ranger line of credit.

Normally, one would have joined the road at Hak, but due to my status in the community we decided that it was better to catch it a little farther north at one of the country turnoffs.

We stopped at a local Cheap_But_Quick for what barely passed as an edible lunch. The only thing worse than the food was the service. The patrons were no trip to Joyville either. I had seen better attitudes in shop class. We paid the tab, left a modest tip, and headed toward the toll road.

Maybe we were a little sluggish from the cholesterol of the carbo heavy meal, or maybe we were just thinking a little too far ahead on our journey. Either way, the raiding party caught us like the school principal with his pants down in the crapper.

The first notice of the attack was the arrow sticking through Chuckster__'s neck. The blue plumes of the feathers on it went nicely with his red shirt. As he slumped to the ground the word 'dogmeat' formed in my mind.

We were soon up to our elbows in sloths. The Rangers brandished their broad blades, Lauren readied her cat o' nine tails, and I pulled out my baseball bat. Little_Jewels ducked under a nearby bush.

There were ten of them and six of us. They had the element of surprise but it looked to me that the odds were stacked in our favor. After all, we were the good guys in this story.

Two of them came for me at once. My ball bat placed a Louisville love tap across the kisser of the first. I ducked under the second's lunging sword. I came up with a savage swing that sent him a hard shot down the third base line. He went down like my Aunt Millie dunking Uncle Elmo's doughnuts.

I turned to see if Lauren needed any help. Of course she didn't. Her initials were already carved on one sloth's rancheros when she turned to give a second a facial with her cat o' nine tails.

"Glad to see you found a way to work out those pent-up aggressions, sweetheart," I said. "I'd hate to have to front you for a therapist bill."

"Mr. Moonlight," she replied as she made a third sloth a candidate to be a kidney donor, "this is the most satisfaction I've had since I realized just how pathetically far you were beneath my level."

"I suppose it beats letting you shop until you drop at the mall."

"My contempt for you, Mr. Moonlight, is only exceeded by my lack of respect for your existence."

The Rangers sent the rest of our adversaries packing like a middle-aged housewife on her way to the candy store. Outside of a few nicks and cuts the only casualty was Chuckster__. I knelt to check out the intrepid captain.

"How be he?" one of the Rangers hesitantly asked.

"Afraid he's stepped on the turnpike to that Big Chatroom in the sky, bud," I replied as I lit coffin nails for Lauren and me.

I turned to her and said, "They never learn do they?"

She took a hit off her coffin nail and answered, "No, they don't, Mr. Moonlight. They have as much chance as you do of becom