Tarak continued to mature, both physically and mentally, in the ensuing years, and by the age of fifteen he was well over six feet tall, with massive shoulders and a deep, heavily muscled torso, tapering to a sleek waist.

His legs were similarly sculpted, and bands of muscle glided beneath the pale, scarred skin.

The common awkwardness normally visited upon boys as they enter puberty was never experienced by Tarak. Such a weakness, however temporary or harmless to a civilized male, was unacceptable to survival under his conditions, either to his body or his mind. Puberty merely accelerated his growth, as his frame grew toward its final size, and his physical abilities increased immensely with the hormonal changes and their effects upon his muscula system. The strange longings he experienced as he approached sexual maturity were buried as he buried his other sufferings.

He was a young man, and looked older than his years, for he had endured lifetimes of suffering. His skin was marked with innumerable scars, though most had faded with the passage of time, and the incomparable effects of the healing power of youth.

At age sixteen his growth began to slow, and by age seventeen Tarak's growth was nearly complete. He was sexually mature, and his body had filled out to finally achieve the potential suggested in his heavy frame.

Large and beautifully muscled, his every movement was yet perfectly balanced, even graceful in its speed and strength.

He had been a prisoner for fifteen years within the dark cold walls of Gonor's fortress. He had been brutalized, tortured, ceaselessly attacked, and his body and mind subjected to every obstacle Gonor's fertile mind could imagine.

Scars riddled his body, and deeper pains reminded him of the more recently healed fractures of his bones. Older fractures were only memories, like the faded scars.

Tarak had suffered grievous wounds and injuries, but had never suffered a permanent disability in any respect. He had matured pursuant to the distorted experimentation of his captor, and the result was a marvelous physical specimen of manhood.

His mind had also developed, although he kept his knowledge closely guarded, and he never responded to any language except the guttural commands which Brona had taught him; and then he responded silently, sullenly.

He understood everything the men said, and understood too what they had taken from him and from his parents. He knew how men could live in the outside world, and his desire to escape his present fate was constant.

As was his hatred. His hatred had manifested itself early, and with knowledge had matured into a seething malevolence toward the masters of this valley fortress.

He had hated the animals, at first. As he had grown older, however, he learned more about them, and knew that their violent actions were instincts, or were fostered by the cruel actions and deprivations of Brona or Gonor.

He was savage in his combat with these beasts, but as one carnivore battles another; without hesitation or mercy, but without rancor.

Beasts killed for food, or by instinct or for defense; but men such as Gonor or Brona, and wroks such as Lukor, killed for pleasure; to extend their perverted knowledge; to slake their desire for power and mastery. Their actions were extraneous to their survival, and they enjoyed the suffering of others.

Tarak had watched them as they hurt him, and as they hurt other captives. He had seen their cruelty toward Amena, and he knew what their creatures had done to his mother. His hatred accompanied him always, through every battle, and every sightless night. Always it smoldered, as if awaiting any chance to unleash its fury against those who had become its focus.

He had seen little of Amena during the preceding few years, for Gonor had correctly surmised long ago that her presence was no longer needed.

The most recent years in which they had remained together had been much more of a comfort for her than for Tarak. Their roles had become reversed to some extent, and she had come to depend upon his strength and companionship as much as he enjoyed hers.

On the few occasions when he had seen her since their separation, however, he had bristled inwardly, for it became apparent that her status had changed considerably for the worse. She appeared now to be a haggard woman, thin and unclothed, fetching and carrying for the bestial wroks. Infrequently her duties brought her into the chamber which housed Tarak's arena, and when once she had waved, a hairy hand had knocked her down, causing her to spill her burden upon the floor.

The wrok had laughed, cuffed her painfully, and kicked her against the chamber wall. Amena had knelt dutifully, her eyes downcast at the feet of the creature, an abysmal indication that she had been given as a slave to the wroks.

Tarak's imagination burned with fury as he thought of his beloved Amena as a plaything for the hairy creatures, naked and defenseless, and once so beautiful. He knew that he would never leave this place without her, and once more he resolved to avenge the indignities she had suffered. His face remained impassive as he watched, but his eyes flared with hatred.

His recent years had been relatively easy ones. Gonor had concluded most of his experimentation during Tarak's formative years, and realized that little could be learned by further experimentation with the grown captive. Tarak had developed beyond anything Gonor had imagined, but with his maturity it had become difficult to create meaningful experiments.

Gonor had lost much of his interest, but Tarak did represent a uniquely successful experiment, and Gonor was reluctant to terminate the life of his prisoner.

He often came into the chamber and looked down upon the savage man, enjoying observing the fruits of his genius.

The past several years had seen an increasing spread of the territory controlled by the wroks, and Mulak had sent many captives to Gonor as his wrok bands launched raids upon human settlements and caravans.

Many children had been captured, and all had been subjected to the cruel whims of Gonor's imagination and knowledge. All had perished within months, however. Some had shown promise, but each had ultimately encountered an experience or attacker he could not vanquish, or had suffered some other misfortune. Several had lost their sanity, and had refused to defend themselves when attacked. Each had finally died a bloody and violent death. None had possessed the combination of physical and mental qualities, or the good fortune, which Tarak had enjoyed.

Gonor continued to experiment, always seeking to duplicate his success with the boy, and pressed Mulak for more subjects.

The cities had grown wary, however, and few persons traveled near the forests, unless heavily armed and in large numbers. Children almost never left the walls of their cities, or of the stockades which had been built by the peasant families in response to the wroks' attacks.

Gonor had tried to persuade Mulak to launch an attack against a fortified village, but the wrok chieftain was cautious. Such an assault would stir the wrath of of Car itself, and her armies might well launch a counter-assault, scouring the forests in search of retribution.

Gonor was safe within his valley, but Mulak knew that such a massive assault might decimate his wrok army.

He was reluctant to take such a risk at this time, although he knew that the successful capture of a village would result in hundreds of slaves, and great quantities of goods and food.

Historically wroks had never taken slaves, and had always killed men, women, and children alike. Under Gonor's guidance Mulak had learned of the usefulness of slaves, however, and kept many of he adult captives for his own use, sending the children on to Gonor.

He enjoyed using men as beasts of labor, and women for drudgery and to satisfy the pleasureable needs within his fortress.

Gonor's proposals thus did have some appeal for the creature, and the scientist spent a great deal of time planning for such an assault, and discussing his plans with the Wrok Chieftain. These concerns often required Gonor's absence from the valley, during which times Brona was its master.

Brona had long since tired of experimenting with Tarak, and had in addition experienced some discomfiture under the level gaze of the captive's vivid green eyes. He had been attempting to persuade Gonor to kill the captive for some years, arguing that Tarak was simply another expense, and that his usefulness was ended.

Gonor had listened to these arguments, but had never been able to wipe out the living evidence of his brilliance, He had continued to keep the captive alive, providing him with ample game to kill, and infrequently a carnivore with which to battle.

Tarak's safekeeping had been turned over to the wroks, and these creatures, pleased with the opportunity to torment a man, wasted little time in devising simple but cruel ways in which to annoy him. Long experience had inured Tarak to such minor sufferings, however, and he paid them little attention.

The wroks had never seen him fight, for his training had been seen only by the men, as a result of some whim of Gonor's.

They openly joked about Gonor's order never to open the heavy door to the arena. The door had remained closed since Amena's visits had ceased, and only the tunnels provided access to the arena.

The wroks wagered among themselves about how long it would take each of them to catch and kill the captive, should they be allowed to do so.

Tarak appeared not to understand, but listened with a hint of a smile upon his lips, and a slight growl in his throat.

To TARAK OF AANTOR