TARAK17

The throne room of Neros was filled to overflowing, and the sounds of happy laughter and conversation filled the air. sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the rich colors of the fabrics and tapestries which ornamented the Great Hall. The people were dressed in their brightest colors, and their mood reflected their dress, for their city was once again free.

Three days had passed since Foss had killed Jaren and assumed the Tarkanate. In that time the news had spread throughout Neros, and many had come to swear allegiance to the new Tarkan.

With the old Tarkan dead, conflicts were few, and the citizens greeted their beloved Foss with relief and happiness. The first few days Foss had concentrated on consolidating and strengthening his position, restructuring the military, and issuing a temporary series of proclamations, which in effect stripped all officers of their power, as Foss sent his own men throughout the city, searching for pockets of resistance.

The bridge was repaired, and then the soldiers stood back as thousands upon thousands of citizens journeyed across to the plains and forests. Many returned in a matter of hours, happy and content, while others stayed outside for days, rejoicing in the beauty of nature which had been denied them for so long.

By the third day almost everyone had been outside, and Foss chose this day to hold a ceremony in the Great Hall. Hundreds filled the hall, while thousands more thronged the palace grounds, shouting his name, drinking, and generally celebrating their Tarkan, and their city.

Within the Hall the purple curtains parted behind the throne, and the throng became silent. Abar walked forth from behind them, followed by Karn, Barkan, and Anon of the pit.

They took their places on the steps beneath the throne, and turned toward the curtains from which they had just entered. Again the curtains parted, and Foss-Pan-Velsor appeared.

He looked magnificent, dressed in the purple and gold tunic of the Tarkan, with the cloak fastened about his wide shoulders. He strode to the cushioned throne, and sat for the first time upon the seat of power.

For long moments he sat silently, surveying his assemblage, then he spoke.

"People of Neros. I, Foss-Pan-Velsor, have killed Jaren, and now I claim the throne in my name. If there be any among you who chooses to dispute my claim, let them now raise their voice!"

Many eyes turned momentarily to look at the splendidly dressed figure of Abar, who stood nearby, innocence written upon his face, but no one spoke. The Hall was silent.

"For years," continued Foss, "Neros has been choked in the grip of a tyrannical Tarkan, and its people imprisoned through rumors and terror. Lies have gone unchallenged, and fear has shaken the very depths of our society. Now Neros is open to the world once more, and all may pass through the gates freely."

A cheer erupted in the hall, but Foss silenced the crowd with a raised hand.

"Neros is free again, but the fighting may not yet be over."

At this point in his speech Foss gestured to Kiron, who stood below him.

"I owe a great debt to this man. Neros itself owes him a debt. He is Kiron of Kalnor. For years he has languished as a prisoner of Pusk, as his sister Rela has served as a slave in our city. Neros is free, but Kalnor remains in the grip of another tyrannical Tarkan, Malenot. That Tarkan cannot conquer Neros, nor even threaten our lands, as you have been led to believe, and I shall not attempt to deceive you into so believing. Yet until Kalnor is ridded of this man, Neros will continue to be deprived of many of the goods and culture which were so abundant years ago."

Foss paused, and noted the way the crowd focused upon Kiron of Kalnor.

The Kalnorian Tark was resplendent in his silken tunic of gray, signifying no allegiance to any city. A famous warrior, his name was familiar to most Nerosians, and approval registered in the faces now turned toward to Kalnorian.

"I have told Kiron that I would meet with Atal Throom, a Kalnorian Tark who has organized an army, hoping to retake his city. I also told him, however, that my responsibility is first to my city. I may choose to aid him in his efforts, but I will not order any citizen of Neros to spill his blood for Kalnor. Too many have died in our own cause recently. If an army is raised to aid Atal Throom, it is you who must decide to fight. Let the word be spread that those who wish to march upon Kalnor may do so. Those who do not should feel justified in their decision, for your first loyalty is to yourself and your city."

Foss looked directly at the Kalnorian, and Kiron nodded his approval.

Than Foss stood. "Now it is time to honor those who have helped bring freedom to you." He descended the steps to where Abar stood.

"All Neros knows our Abar-Pan-Toromin," Foss began. "Some fortunately know him less intimately than others."

At this remark the crowd laughed, and Abar unsuccessfully tried to suppress a grin.

"Abar is now Rok, commander of all the military forces of Neros," Foss continued. "A position to which we all know he has long aspired."

Again laughter resounded in the Great Hall, and many cheered the Rok's name, while Abar merely stood silently, grinning at the Tarkan.

Then Foss turned to Barkan, and Karn.

"These men are Tarks, and I cannot award them a higher station than they already possess, but I wish to publicly thank them for their efforts and the risks they took on behalf of their city." Again the people cheered, and the Tarks smiled and bowed their heads, in acknowledgment of the tribute.

Foss stepped to Anon.

"This man has suffered at the hands of his city, along with many of his fellows, and when released he became a major factor in my victory. Neros owes the warriors of the pit a debt it can never repay, but I shall endeavor to make like more pleasant in the future for these men. Anon I have promoted to Rok. He is answerable only to Abar."

Again the people cheered, but Foss stilled the cheers, and stood looking out over the assemblage, as if searching for someone.

"The greatest debt, however, is to a barbarian, a naked man who came out of the mountains and breathed life into the dying land of Neros. Those who know him can testify to his greatness, both in spirit and in battle. Without his help I would not be Tarkan, Anon would be dying in the pits, and our city would still be in the death grip of Jaren. I do not exaggerate his prowess, or his importance to Neros. He is not of our city, but never will a city have an opportunity to honor a man who has performed such a service. I have offered him power and wealth, but he has refused with grace. Now I offer him public tribute, so that the citizens of Neros may see this man who gave them freedom, but takes nothing in return."

Foss looked out over the audience. No one moved, but heads turned, following his searching gaze.

"If you are among us, Tarak, come forward, so that a Tarkan may show you his gratitude, and a city may honor you properly!"

Again heads searched the Hall, looking for this man whom their Tarkan spoke of so reverently, but no one came forward. Foss noticed Kiron motioning to him, and he waved the Kalnorian over.

"Tarak has gone," Kiron said. "He took Rela yesterday, and said that he wanted to show her the forest, and that in addition he wanted to retrieve something he had hidden there. I told him the forest was dangerous, but he laughed, and said Rela would protect him."

Foss smiled, remembering the gems Tarak had hidden in the forest.

"Do not worry, Kiron. Rela will be safe enough."

He turned to address the throng.

"I am informed that Tarak has left Neros temporarily. Even your Tarkan, it seems, cannot control this man."

Laughter rippled through the audience, and Foss grinned. "Nevertheless, he shall be paraded someday. Remember always the name of Tarak of the Mountains, for all Neros owes him the greatest debt."

Foss climbed the stairs to his throne, and turning, raised his hand to salute the citizens of his city. As one man they responded, arms raised, and the name of Foss-Pan-Velsor was shouted again and again. He bowed once to his people, then turned and disappeared behind the curtain.

Foss, Tarkan of Neros, had concluded his appearance. It had been necessary, but he had work to do, and did not wish to spend time on such endeavors, for he did not seek adulation, nor was he overly moved by it.

The wroks waited silently in the trees, for they had heard sounds nearby, and the sounds had seemed human in nature. Then the breeze brought to the creatures the scent of two humans.

The wroks cared little which way the wind blew, for humans could detect nothing by scent. They had been hunting, and finding no quarry had rested low in the branches of a tree. Two of the creatures lay there, forest wroks, armed with broad swords and knives, and across their broad backs were strapped long bows.

They looked at each other with anticipation, for always enmity existed between work and man, and it was rare that men were so foolish as to venture into the forest.

From the sounds it appeared the people walked towards them, indifferent to the danger, and the wroks crouched, not bothering to string their bows.

Tarak walked lazily, his arm about Rela, his nostrils savoring the sweet, fresh smell of the forest. The undergrowth felt soft beneath their feet, and he felt alive and vibrant. They had left Neros days ago, to be alone while Foss worked out the tedious details of consolidating and building his administration.

Rela had been eager to go, but as the days had passed and they had left the city farther and farther behind, she had grown apprehensive.

At first the plains and forests were alive with people, but as they had continued, fewer citizens were to be seen. Even soldiers had become scarce, for almost all the troops had followed Foss into the city, and the countryside had been left sparsely defended. Several times they were stopped by soldiers, but these were mainly scouts, single warriors Foss had left behind to patrol the land, and these men received with joy the news of Foss's victory. None had tried to detain them, for their purpose was only to scout, and, being alone, they had not sought battle with the huge barbarian.

Often they had moved away from the roads, for Tarak loved the primitive land, and Rela had come to feel protected and secure with him. He had brought a bow, and his skill provided them with abundant food, though she was repelled at the way he seemed to enjoy eating the flesh uncooked, and insisted that he allow her to prepare it properly, to no avail.

He would simply grin at her, as the blood ran down his chin.

"Your civilized methods have no place here, Rela," he had said, offering her a piece of dripping flesh, and laughing when she turned her head in disgust.

Sometimes they would sleep in the homes of peasants, and more often in the forests, where they would make love in the soft grasses. These were happy nights, but still Rela felt the chill of danger, and Tarak gave in to her pleadings for a fire each night.

Eventually they had passed the area of habitation, and Rela became anxious. She had never been in so desolate an area, and did not understand the casual manner in which Tarak accepted it.

They reached the fort where Tarak had first met Foss, and spent that night the night there. The fort was now manned by only thirty men, and they greeted Tarak warmly, cheering when they heard of Foss's triumph.

The next day he had decided to continue, but Rela had been frightened. This was the last civilized area of Neros, and the idea of traveling further was horrifying even to a brave Kalnorian such as she.

Forests, she said, were not for man. He had told here that she could remain in the fort, but eventually she decided she would feel safe enough with him, and was so afraid for him that she would not let him go alone, so she agreed to go, after receiving his promise that their goal was not much further.

They had traveled along a road for a few hours, and Rela began to fear as she had never feared before in her life. Not a person was to be seen, nor any sign of habitation, and the road loomed dangerously close to the great forest which stretched off until it reached the mountains. The great forest which none of the civilized peoples of Aantor had conquered, and only the city of Car had attempted to tame even a portion of its depths.

Tarak had been searching the forest for awhile, and finally had grabbed her hand firmly, and headed, to her abject horror, directly toward its edge.

"You are mad!" she cried, but he had laughed, and promised that their goal was nearby; and Rela had been so terrified at the thought of staying alone in this place while he forged ahead in the pursuit of his quest, that she decided to accompany him, however reluctantly.

He was pleased at this decision, for of course he would not have allowed her to remain alone, in any event, and would have had to force her had she declined to come.

Now they were within the great forest, and Tarak felt wonderful. The forests they had thus far passed through on their journey had known men, and to his senses simply did not compare with the untamed vastness of this wilderness in which they now walked. He looked down at Rela, who was shuddering with fright, and glancing from side to side with constant apprehension, and he felt sorry for her and her kind, the many thousands of civilized Aantorians who lived in prisons of their own making, and trembled at the sight of real freedom.

He tried to engage her in conversation, but her monosyllabic replies thwarted his attempts, and finally he desisted, instead extending his senses outward to drink in the nourishing stimuli of the forest.

Suddenly he stopped, his hairs standing straight upon the nape of his neck, his every sense alert, and attuned to the surrounding forest. As he had stopped speaking he had almost instantaneously noticed the strange silence. Tarak had walked through many forests, and always sounds of life had come from above, safe from his lower intrusion. Now the trees were silent. Something was hunting above.

Only a split second passed as he sensed the stillness before he grabbed Rela and threw her to the ground at the base of a huge tree. She started to scream, but he silenced it before it began, clapping his hand over her mouth, and placing a finger to his lips.

Her eyes were wide with terror, and her body shook uncontrollably, but she understood the seriousness in the bright green eyes which looked steadily into hers, and nodded her head. Silently Tarak strung his bow, and handed it to the girl, along with his quiver of arrows, and his sword.

The tree against which Rela lay was old, and had large, gnarled roots. Tarak pushed her behind and under these roots, until she was almost completely hidden. He pointed upward, and then at himself, and then upward again.

Rela understood, and was further terrified, for she knew that he was about to leave her. She began to protest, but he silenced her, and the fire in his gaze communicated to her the necessity for silence. Then he kissed her, hard on her mouth, smiled, and was gone.

Never had she known such abject terror. Her heart seemed ready to leap from her chest, and she felt that surely whatever was out there could hear it plainly. She was even afraid to breathe, and when she was forced to, it sounded like a windstorm to her pained senses. She thought of Tarak, armed only with a knife, and wondered what he hoped to accomplish.

The thought that he had left her in order to escape himself came unbidden to her mind, but the memory of those quiet, reassuring eyes returned, and she knew that he was somewhere above.

She heard a faint rustling sound then, above and to the right, and relieved, turned to see her lover.

But it was not Tarak. Two huge wroks glared down at her from a large branch, thirty feet away. Saliva dripped from their fangs as they stared greedily down at her, and noticing that they had been spotted, they leaped to the ground, and growling, moved swiftly toward her.

She screamed, and attempted to loose an arrow, but she was so shaken that she could not control the powerful bow, and the arrow never left the string. She threw the bow at the nearest wrok, and grasped the sword, determined to sell her life dearly, but the wrok snarled his laughter at her puny efforts, and leaped, its fellow close behind.

Rela screamed again as the creature reached for her, but her scream was drowned out by a louder scream, and she looked on stunned as the beast fell writhing in the dirt, a knife imbedded in its neck. The second beast slowed its charge, but even as it looked up, Tarak was dropping upon its back, and the wrok had not time to even raise its sword as the man's weight bore it to the ground. Tarak was unarmed, and Rela thought that surely this was madness, but as he grappled with the wrok she realized that he was as savage as the beast he fought.

The wrok was a huge specimen, powerful and deadly, and its speed seemed unreal to the transfixed girl.

Even faster, however, were the movements of the man, and as they rolled in the grass, snarling and biting, she saw to her amazement that Tarak was more than a match for the beast's strength.

Now the wrok was trying to reach its knife, having lost its sword as it fell.

As the wrok reached downward, powerful fingers sought its throat, and Rela saw the beast instantly dismiss its attempt and try to tear the powerful arms from its neck. The muscles stood out upon Tarak's arms like ripples of steel as he tightened his grip, and the wrok's scream ended in a bubbling rattle as Tarak tore open its throat, ripping out the great artery and the windpipe with one tremendous wrench.

Tarak tossed the huge wrok aside, and, wiping his bloody hands on his tunic, turned toward Rela, who sat in stunned amazement, scarcely believing what she had just seen.

His eyes flamed like green fire as he turned, but a he approached her the savagery dimmed, and his calmness returned.

"Forgive me, Rela. Your civilization has made even Tarak careless. It shall not happen again."

He helped her up, and held her close, sheltering her body.

"I was so frightened!" she whispered.

He smiled.

"I do not blame you. Know, however, that I would not let any wrok harm my little Rela."

She shuddered in his arms.

"Tarak, how can you fight unarmed with such a beast, and win?"

He shrugged.

"They are among the most civilized of beasts, and use weapons much as men do. Without them they are, while still formidable, no real threat to me."

For the first time since they had left the fort Rela began to relax. Tarak's words, so simply spoken, carried the ring of truth and conviction, and she truly felt that this man could really cope with anything the forest might offer. She smiled up into his warm eyes, and felt the immense strength which flowed through the arms which held her, and felt secure here in the shadows of the great forest.

After a moment he released her, and retrieved his weapons, Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the forest.

Rela no longer shuddered, and would have engaged him in conversation, but Tarak silenced her.

He knew that he had made a mistake, and that another might cost her life. Now they traveled in silence, his senses extended and alert for any danger which might threaten.

They encountered nothing further, however, and eventually Tarak stopped at the base of a tree. He lifted Rela and placed her across his shoulder, and before she could protest he began to climb. Higher and higher they went, and Rela grew dizzy, but her confidence in this man had increased to the point that she was no longer afraid. Finally they came to a natural fork, and Rela noticed several weapons cached there, along with a leather pouch. It seemed doubtful that he could have once hidden these items in this unmarked fork, and then found it so easily again, but such obviously was the case. By this time Rela was ready to believe that anything was possible for this man.

Her curiosity was piqued by the pouch, but as she reached to open it he shook his head, and tied the pouch to his belt.

"Not here, Rela." He looked up. "In the sun."

They began to climb again, and after a moment they stood swaying on a branch at the tip of the tree, more than four hundred feet above the ground.

The sight took her breath away, for she had never experienced or imagined such a sight, and the beauty thrilled her, as she looked out over the treetops, which seemed to almost form a carpet high above the floor of the forest.

Then Tarak untied the opening of the pouch, and as he brought his hand out of the bag Rela was almost blinded by the shimmering, flashing radiance.

"Oh Tarak!" she exclaimed, then looking at him with a yet renewed sense of wonder. "Starfires!"

He laughed.

"Yes, I thought they were rather pretty, so I brought them out of the mountains."

He smiled warmly at her.

"Perhaps you would like one?"

Her eyes grew wide, and she gaped at him in disbelief.

"You would give me one of these? I would give my life itself for such a gift!"

He placed three of the stones into her palm, and closed her fingers. Then he returned the rest of the stones to the pouch, and closed the opening.

"Now you possess that which you crave as you crave life itself, Rela. Does this make you happier than before?"

She looked up at him.

"Yes. But it is you that I would possess, Tarak, to be really happy. The gems make me happy because it is you who have given them to me."

Tarak smiled, and took her hand.

"No one, Rela, may possess me, at least now. You must know that. But if through the gems you possess a part of me, and if it pleases you, then I am pleased too. The stones are as nothing compared to the pleasure you have given me."

He looked away, gazing out across the treetops, which swayed gently in the wind. Like a landscape they seemed, or a beautiful sea, as the forest roof rose and fell with the ever-changing heights of the trees, sometimes gradually deepening, forming valleys or hills, and sometimes broken by a lofty giant which reared high above its neighbors.

To the East the edge of the forest could be seen; the waves of green abruptly ending, as at the edge of a cliff. To the West the forest stretched off into the distance, where it met the slopes of the mountains from which Tarak had come, and which he called his home.

To the North and South the parade of treetops stretched on and on, until lost in the distance.

"This," he said, gesturing widely as the spaces, "is more beautiful than any rock ever dug from the bowels of Aantor. More precious than any jewel, and stronger than any wall of stone."

Rela looked closely at this man, and noticed the peculiar expression upon his face.

His eyes were radiant, reflecting the sunlight in flashes of green, and his face was set in exhilaration. The wind blew through his blond hair, and his chest rose and fell deeply as he breathed deeply of the clear air. She know it for a look of love, love for the only thing he could ever really belong to. Only Aantor, with all its forests, plains, mountains, and rivers; with all her lakes, and her freedom, could hold forever the heart of this man.

He belonged only to himself, and he loved truly only life and freedom.

She too felt refreshed and happy, and found the spectacle beautiful, but at the same time she was conscious of being four hundred feet up in the branches of a tree. She longed for a warm bed at night, and walls to protect her. She remembered the wroks, and shivered in the sunlight. Only such a man as stood before her could understand and love freedom in such a way as he did. She loved him the more for it, even knowing it meant he might never belong to her.

Finally he looked down at her, and gestured downward. She nodded, and he lifted her across one broad shoulder, and began to descend to the ground. When they reached the forest floor, Rela was conscious once again of the gloom. She looked up, and thought of the beauty she had seen above, wondering if she should ever again have the opportunity to stand on a high branch and look out over the Aantorian treetops.

How warm and glorious it had been in comparison with the dank, shadowy world in which they now walked. Tarak, she knew, would enjoy such an experience countless times in the future, as he had no doubt in the past. She wondered how many men had seen what she had seen today.

They walked back toward the road slowly, Tarak holding Rela close to his body. She was less fearful now, but still the vast darkness bothered her somewhat, and she was anxious to put the forest behind her. Tarak was enjoying the sounds and smells which filled his senses, but now he was more alert, and they did not speak much until they had exited the forest.

With the forest now only a memory, Rela came alive once more. The sun shone down upon them warming her, and she felt safe at the side of the man who walked beside her. She bombarded him with questions about the forest, and about his past, but he merely laughed and said he had forgotten.

She persisted, and although he laughed, he would not speak of his past. It seemed that whatever lay in his memories was for him and him alone. Finally she give up, however reluctantly, and determined to someday break through the barrier which guarded his past.

They came eventually to the fort, and spent the night drinking and laughing with the soldiers. Replacements had arrived from Neros earlier that day, and the men were in a festive mood.

They slept late the next morning, and decided to begin their return journey to the city. Rela was afraid Kiron would worry, and Tarak acquiesced, though chiding her about her fears.

On their return trip they encountered many more soldiers, for now Foss had begun releasing men to again man the forest and patrol the countryside. Generally those they encountered were in good humor, and passed the walking couple without incident.

A few even remembered the blond warrior, and called out cheerfully. On the third day, however, as they began to pass a platoon, the leader halted them gruffly.

"Stop, in the name of Foss of Neros!" he shouted, though they were only a few yards distant. He was a large, swaggering brute, sitting astride a drif, while his men plodded along behind. They stopped, and looked up at this officer.

"What is your business on the roads of Neros?" the man demanded, looking suspiciously at their eyes and hair.

"We are traveling to the city," Tarak replied. "We have been enjoying the countryside."

He did not wish to make trouble for Foss's guards, as these men must be. They were only doing their job, and so he spoke in a friendly tone. He did not like the manner of the officer, but supposed that even in Foss's army some fools would command men.

The officer was not satisfied. "Traveling to Neros. Hah. You have no reason to travel to our city!"

He peered down maliciously. "Where are you from?"

Rela spoke up. "I am from Kalnor, and this is..."

The officer cut her off. "Kalnor! If you are from Kalnor, you are fools to be walking on the road to Neros!.. We make slaves of Kalnorians."

He turned to Tarak. "I suppose now you will say you are from Neros?"

"No. I am not from Neros."

Tarak was reminded of the first Nerosian officer he had met, upon exiting the forest months ago, and felt the faint stirrings of anger within himself. Still, he had no quarrel with these men, and so remained outwardly amiable.

The officer seemed pleased with himself. "I think I have captured two prisoners."

He looked around at his men. "Two slaves."

Tarak was silent, watching the officer as the tarab watches the elat.

"Perhaps I should take the two of you to our Tarkan," continued the officer. "He is a friend of mine, and might be persuaded to let me have the woman for my own."

Tarak nodded.

"Yes. It seems a good idea. Take us to your Tarkan. I am certain he will reward you."

This startled the officer, who had only seen Tarkan Foss a few time, and from afar. He did not want to appear foolish in front of his men, and felt this stranger was taunting him.

"You are slaves...., or spies!" he shouted, and drawing his sword, leaped from his drif.

"I do not know which, but you will kneel before me to be chained, or die!"

Tarak was finished with explanations. He placed Rela behind himself, and in an instant his blade flashed in the sunlight. He would pick her up soon and run, for he did not wish to endanger her, and had little chance against so many, but first he wished to rid Foss of this man. He would kill this officer, and then depart. He moved forward, his eyes flaming.

"Kill them, Tarak!" Rela cried, as she looked about for a weapon. "If this is how Neros thanks you, let them all die!"

At the sound of his name, the soldiers stopped abruptly, and sudden understanding flooded the features of the officer.

"You are Tarak..?" he stammered. "Who fought with Foss against Jaren?"

"I am he," said Tarak, still moving forward. "Now come to me, Nerosian, and taste the death which is in my blade."

The officer lowered his sword then, and stood silently, waiting.

Tarak stopped, and the officer said. "Kill me, for I am a fool, and I will not fight the man who freed our city."

Tarak stood, and the fire died in his eyes.

"I shall not kill you, warrior of Neros. If you are true to Foss you deserve to live, even if you are a fool."

He looked into the officer's eyes, but the man was silent. "You would do well to treat travelers with more respect. Jaren rules no more."

The officer nodded, his head lowered. Then his men divided, and formed a corridor through which Tarak and Rela could walk. As they passed through, some of the soldiers saluted, and when Tarak turned around a few minutes later, he noticed that the men were still watching.

"You are a hero to the Nerosians." Rela commented.

He laughed.

"Foss is their hero. They will soon forget about Tarak."

"No." She said stubbornly. "You are a hero here. Did you see the way they looked at you?"

He shrugged.

"They are warriors, and only a few men. Let them look to their Tarkan. He is truly heroic, and besides, I wish only the forests and the mountains."

They took to the forests then, hoping to avoid any further patrols, and came ultimately to the edge of the forest which opened upon the plain of the gates of Neros, without further incident. The plain was dotted with people, and hundreds were passing to and for, entering the forest and crossing the bridge to enter or leave the city.

Now the stockade was fully manned, and each person was stopped briefly as he attempted to enter or leave the city, though only for a few seconds. After the initial few days of unchecked freedom, during which time citizens streamed uncounted through he gates and across the bridge, Foss had initiated again the practice of informally checking on movement to and from the city.

Such had always been the practice of Neros, and it caused the people little trouble, while affording the defenders some measure of information and protection. Once the forts were again manned in strength, and the roads patrolled, only those who looked alien would be stopped.

Now, however, Foss was concerned with the protection of his city, and the people did not seem to mind.

They stepped out of the forest, and leisurely walked toward the city. None seemed to pay them any attention, and they reached the stockade without incident. A new commander stood there, supervising his men, and he approached them as they neared.

He was quite young, Tarak noticed, and his appearance and manner contrasted sharply with the man who had challenged Foss when they had first entered Neros. This man was smiling as he approached though his eyes were curious at the sight of these travelers, who though dressed in the cloth of Neros were obviously not native to this city.

"I am Norm, commander of the stockade," he said. "I must ask you your identities, and the purpose for which you wish to enter Neros."

He stood straight before them smiling and amiable, but Tarak had no doubt that this man would die rather than let them pass without satisfying his questions. Foss had chosen this stockade commander with apparent care.

Tarak noticed the guards nearby were listening, and were ready to aid their commander, instantly if necessary.

Tarak gestured to Rela.

"This is Rela-Pan-Mir, of Kalnor, sister of Kiron-Pan-Mir, Tark of Kalnor, who killed Pusk on the palace roof."

He looked back at the commander.

"I am Tarak of the Mountains, and have no city. I am returning Rela to her brother, who is a guest of your Tarkan."

The commander's eyes widened, and Tarak noticed several of the warriors turn to stare in their direction. The commander straightened, and his arm raised in a salute.

"Tarak!" he said loudly, stepping closer to examine the barbarian, and then nodding.

"Yes, you could only be he. I am a fool not to have guessed. Please forgive me."

Tarak smiled. "It is easy to forgive your not having recognized me, since you have never seen me before."

The commander laughed.

"Nevertheless, I should have known. Your appearance has been circulated throughout the city. Tarkan Foss is worried about you." Norm glanced at Rela.

"He apparently fears your companion may overcome you, and he will never see you again."

Tarak laughed, and Rela shot the commander a withering look. Obviously this man was friend as well as a subordinate of the Tarkan, and Tarak admired his wit and manner.

"As you can see, I have survived. And if it is possible, we would like to enter your fine city."

"I shall arrange for an escort."

Tarak shook his head.

"No. It will not be necessary. Besides, I would like to see for myself Neros, as Foss has conquered it."

"He will be angry if I do not provide an escort," protested Norm.

"He will understand," replied Tarak. "I shall insure that he knows of your concern."

The commander nodded, and stepped aside. Tarak placed his hand on Rela's shoulder, and together they passed through the stockade, and onto the bridge. Before they reached the other side a soldier passed them, running swiftly toward the gates.

"I do not think Foss will be surprised at our arrival", Rela commented, watching the hurrying guard.

No one stopped them at the gates, and as they passed down the ramp the soldiers stationed there saluted. They climbed into the city, and noticed that even in the short time which they had been gone the city had undergone a change of personality. Laughter and singing were heard everywhere, and the citizens were dressed in tunics which reflected their colorful, cheery mood.

No longer did men whisper furtively together in small groups, and glance fearfully whenever warriors passed. The feel of freedom permeated the air.

They walked slowly down the broad main avenue, savoring the happy sights, and listening to the populace.

"It seems almost like Kalnor," said Rela, gazing around her. "Kalnor is a much less conservative city, and more colorful, but his celebration reminds me of my home, or at least of my home before Malenot."

"I should like to see Kalnor, Rela. Neros is a fine place, but I have spent enough time here, and would like to move on. Perhaps I shall journey to Kalnor, and see what it might offer a poor barbarian from the mountains."

"With a pouch of Starfires you are anything but poor!" she laughed. "Do not go to Kalnor now, though, Tarak. You would be killed!"

"Foss told me the same thing about Neros, and yet here I walk down her streets, free and at the side of a most beautiful woman."

"Neros is not Kalnor," she insisted. "Malenot does not imprison men. He kills them, or has his champion, Gorkok, kill them."

Tarak turned to her. "I should like to see this Gorkok. According to Foss he is a formidable man."

She shuddered.

"He is terrible. No one can stand before him. He almost killed my brother in the Tournament, and Kiron is the best swordsman in Kalnor! He is like a wild beast!"

"That is not always so bad," commented Tarak, smiling.

She looked at him, and flushed, remembering his fight with the wroks.

"You are different, Tarak. Gorkok is always wild, and lusts to kill. He boasts of the men he had killed, and Malenot always sends him more."

"If he continues to look for those to kill, no doubt one day he will find one who will kill him."

She shook her head.

"No. He can kill anyone. You should have seen the way he beat Kiron."

Tarak changed the subject, for he could see that it was upsetting her. They talked about Kalnor, and eventually came to the palace gates. Tarak recognized the guards as men from the pit, and greeted them warmly.

They informed him that Tarkan Foss had been told of his entry into the city, and requested that he come immediately to the Great Hall.

Tarak stopped to exchange a few words with these men, and then continued.

At the palace doors they encountered still more guards from the pit, who saluted them and stood aside as Tarak and Rela entered. They made their way to the Great hall, and entered, nodding to the men stationed at its entrance.

A group of men stood at the far end, around the throne, and Tarak and Rela made their way toward this group. As they approached the man ceased their conversation, and turned to greet the newcomers.

Foss walked forward, smiling warmly, and grasped Tarak's shoulders in his hands.

Behind him came Abar, Anon, Kiron, Barkan, Karn, and a man Tarak had never seen.

"It is good to see you again," said Foss. "I wish you had told me you were leaving the city, though. I wanted to call you forward before my people and found that you had left."

Tarak laughed. "I am sure that you were splendid in your confusion, Foss. I yearned for the forest, though, and I wished to retrieve something."

Foss looked down at the heavy pouch.

"Yes, I thought as much. Was there danger?"

"There is always danger in the forest." Tarak shrugged. "That is why it is the forest." He untied the pouch from his belt. "Since you are the only man I know who is a Tarkan, with his own city and his own army to protect it, I thought I would leave this with you for awhile."

He handed the pouch to the Tarkan, who accepted it, laughing.

"What if I choose to keep this for myself?"

"Then when I want it I shall have to enter your city and take it back."

"Yes, I believe you would," Foss commented, nodding his head, while the others looked on, puzzled.

"Tell me, do you wish to retain any?"

"I still have a few in by belt. I have no use for them anyway, other than to give away to pretty girls," and he looked down at Rela, who smiled smugly.

"They will be here if you ever need them," said Foss. Then his features clouded.

"Tarak, not all has gone well since you left. Karn's sister, Leanna, is nowhere to be found, and it is feared that Jaren arranged for her to be taken out of the city before the revolt. She refused to mate with Pusk, and he must have persuaded Jaren to arrest her secretly, and it is now thought that she was taken as a slave to Malenot of Kalnor."

"How do you know this?"

It was Barkan who answered.

"Informers of mine in the palace told me she had been imprisoned, and later that she had been sent to Kalnor. At the time I was powerless to act."

Tarak looked at Barkan, and noticed the sadness in his face. Then he looked at Karn, who stood silently, his features rigid in determination.

Tarak remembered the haughty Leanna, and knew the love which existed between Karn and his sister. Karn would not react favorably to the thought of Leanna serving the pleasure of a Kalnorian master.

Foss then motioned to the stranger, who stepped forward. "This is Canar, of Kalnor. He has been sent by Atal Throom, in the hope that I might ally Neros to his cause. Atal Throom himself will arrive tomorrow."

Foss shook his head.

"Perhaps Malenot has indeed overextended himself this time, without realizing it."

He looked at Tarak.

"I should like to have you fight with my army, my friend, if we choose to aid Atal Throom in his fight."

Foss smiled. "Then it would seem that victory would be indeed possible, and, I must confess, I long to fight again, with you at my side."

"I shall go," said Tarak, "for I would like to see this city of Kalnor. I can travel much faster than your troops, however, so I shall leave alone. Perhaps I can locate Leanna."

"No," protested Foss. "You would be killed."

Kiron spoke up.

"Perhaps not. It is the time of the year for the Great Tournament. Strangers will not necessarily be killed."

Foss turned to him. "They have not held the Tournament for years."

"It's still held, but few enter, and none have come from Neros. If Tarak were to demand entrance to Kalnor as the champion of Neros, and if I were to go with him, we might gain entrance. Malenot would not dare kill me publicly, and neither would he refuse a champion from your city. Nerosians are fair swordsman, as you know."

Foss laughed, throwing back his head. "But not as fair as Kalnorians, eh, Kiron?"

Kiron smiled. "Perhaps not. Maybe this new champion shall fare somewhat better than the last."

He looked at Tarak. "What event do you wish to enter?"

"I think I would like to enter the swordsmanship competition."

The group fell silent. "You wish to compete for the title of Master Sword?" Kiron said finally.

"Yes. It seems like a fine idea," answered Tarak.

Foss was silent for a moment.

"It may truly be said that you are a champion of Neros. Still, before you can challenge in the name of this city, you must be a citizen. As Tarkan, I can grant you this privilege, if you wish."

Tarak shook his head. "I belong to no city, Foss, even this one. I shall challenge in the name of the mountains and the forests."

Foss smiled. "I anticipated your answer. It does not matter, for I granted you citizenship while you were gone, and could not contest it. You are also, as it happens, a Rok in the army of Neros. You may fight for Neros."

Tarak laughed.

"You possess the devious mind of a true Tarkan, Foss, but I think I shall tire of the color green always upon my body. Soon, I am afraid, I shall be thrown out of the army, or worse, for I do not well follow rules of dress and behavior."

Foss shook his head.

"Only the Tarkan can discipline a Rok. Who will throw you out?"

Tarak smiled, and shook his head in submission. "As I said, Foss, you are devious beyond comparison."

He turned to Kiron. "We leave tomorrow, then?"

Kiron nodded.

"It would be better to arrive in Kalnor before Malenot learns of the fate of Jaren. Even then it will be dangerous. We may be imprisoned, and killed, or Malenot may force the tournament to an early conclusion, forcing you to fight before the city is attacked. If you enter in swordplay, you will fight Gorkok, for no one else enters against him."

Tarak shrugged. "I should like to meet this Gorkok."

Foss smiled. "I would like to be there when you do. It should be interesting."

Kiron nodded his agreement.

"I too think it would be interesting, for you are very strong, though perhaps not as skilled as he. Perhaps I can teach you some things on our journey. Hopefully you will not have to fight, however, for Gorkok is unbeatable."

Tarak said nothing, and, nodding to the group, he and Kiron left to plan their departure.