Suddenly, from the side of the road, someone darted out in front of them. Startled, Meksumteh dropped his blade from the fat man's side, giving Publius Maximus the opportunity he had been waiting for. He turned swiftly and swung his fist, connecting with Meksumteh's nose and felt the crack of bone as the Bronzeskin screamed. He hit him again, this time in the stomach, and he doubled up, dropping the blade. Publius Maximus delivered a punch to the Bronzeskin's neck with the hard, flat edge of his palm, and he collapsed with a grunt. Pausing for breath and to listen for sounds of anyone in the village having heard the brief commotion down the road, Publius Maximus turned his attention to the figure who had ran out in front of them, recognising her instantly as Hannei. She was covered in blood, and lay unmoving on the cold road, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. He bent to examine her, and ran his hands lightly over her abdomen, aware that she must have gone under the wheels of the wagon as it ran backwards. He carefully raised her head, cradling it, and her eyes flickered open.

'Publius Maximus - master,' she said faintly.

'Do not speak, child.'

'They were going to kill you......'

'How did you.....'

'I crawled along at the side of the path, keeping out of sight, knowing that there were people at the wagon in the village.....'

'Hush, child. I will get you to safety.....'

'It is too late, master. Only promise me that you will find Marcellus and together you will put an end to Vitellius, my father.'

'Of course, but listen, it is but a short walk to the village.....'

'They will be waiting for you.'

'You cannot stay here.'

'I am not staying here, am I?' she said, and her voice trailed off. He realised that her neck and at least one of her legs were broken, and from the copious amounts of blood that flowed from her chest he suspected that a fractured rib had penetrated her heart chamber. Her eyes closed abruptly, and her head went back. She was dead. He laid her gently to the ground and stood up, dusting himself off.

'Just when you think that things can get no worse,' he muttered to himself, and then from the distance, near to where the wagon had gone into the ravine, he heard a cry.

'Publius Maximus, help me!'

It was Arslan. He had intended dealing with Meksumteh, but Arslan's need was the greater, and so he set off at a fast run in the direction from which the cry had come.

'Keep shouting so that I may locate you!' he called, and heard Arslan's answering shout. Lowering himself to the ground directly overhead of where he thought the lad might be, he called down into the inky blackness.

'Arslan, keep shouting. How far down are you?'

'I cannot tell, I am making my way back up.....'

Publius Maximus could just make out movement, about twelve feet below him.

'I can see you. Extend your arm, hold up your hand!'

He saw, in the black gloom of nothingness below him, Arslan's fingers outstretched, barely a foot away from his own outstretched hand.

'I can't quite reach.....' the youth said, and tried to extend his hand still further. Their fingertips touched, and at that precise moment the larger of Heraklion's two moons emerged from behind cloud, to bathe them in soft bluish light, and at the same precise moment, Publius Maximus saw the expression on Arslan's face turn from relief to terror as Meksumteh lurched towards them, his arm broken and twisted where he had fallen, his nose a bloody pulp, and one of his eyes closed with blood and grime and filth from the road.

'General.....' Arslan called, and the fat man turned quickly, letting go of Arslan's hand for a second while he faced the Bronzeskin. Publius Maximus threw himself sideways as Meksumteh staggered at him, his good hand clutching his blade, and planted an almighty kick in the man's stomach. But Meksumteh's momentum was unstoppable, and he fell heavily on top of the General as Arslan hauled himself hand over hand back into the road from the ravine.

Weary himself, but determined not to allow the Bronzeskin to kill Publius Maximus, Arslan threw himself on top of the Bronzeskin and dragged him off, kicking and punching, whilst the fat man turned over onto his knees and began to stand up. It was then that Meksumteh thrust upwards with all his might, catching Arslan off guard, and the blade passed clean through his stomach.

'No!' Publius Maximus roared, throwing himself back onto the Bronzeskin and hitting him repeatedly until there was no further resistance from him.      'Arslan,' he muttered thickly, kneeling beside his dying friend. 'Forgive me, I do not know what is happening to me. A year ago I would have been prepared.....'

'Do not blame yourself, General. I did not ask you to protect me. It was my decision to come with you to search for my dear friend Marcellus, who taught me so much.....'

'Do not try to.....' Publius Maximus said, but decided that the young man should have his say after all. Again he cradled a dying head in his arms, tears streaming down his begrimed face.

'Find Marcellus.....'

'Of course.'

'Find my sister, if you can.....'

'I will find her, never fear.'

'I am sorry I was not more use to you. I did not know you long, but already.....'

And for the second time that night Publius Maximus watched a young friend die an untimely death. Gently he gathered up the young body and carried it easily back to where Hannei lay. He laid them together, and bent his head in silent prayer. Then he turned his attention once more to the Bronzeskin, who was showing signs of returning to a painful consciousness.

'I wish there was some way I could send you to your master with a message from me, telling him that I am now so angry that he had better find a good place to hide, for I am coming after him, and I am going to cut him down for what he has done to my friends,' he told the Bronzeskin. 'But I would then run the risk of you recovering, and living to inflict more harm on me and mine. I cannot take that risk. You are evil, filthy vermin, and my duty is to Heraklion, and Heraklion must be rid of you.'

Finally, he pulled his own sword free of its scabbard and plunged it to the hilt in the Bronzeskin's heart, then tore it free and wiped it on the cool, wet grass at the side of the road.

He walked slowly back to where the bodies lay of his two young companions, and for a time simply sat next to them, trying to decide how best to honour their deaths. At length he decided that since there was no-one there but himself, it would serve nothing to give them a lengthy and painstaking funeral rite which would have involved some kind of interment. Instead he rolled each corpse gently to the side of the road where it plunged into the ravine, and pushed them over.

'When I have located Marcellus, and we have together twisted the knife in Vitellius' evil heart, then I will devote the rest of my time to finding your sister, Melisende,' he said hoarsely, and pulling his tunic across his chest against the bitter cold that was carried on the north wind, he started back up the trail towards the village. He stopped short of the tavern, knowing that Talbrik and Saria would be awaiting the return of Meksumteh. He did not wish to meet up with the assassin again at this point, and decided instead to skirt around the south of the village, avoiding it altogether, and struck off in a north-easterly direction toward the coast and the twin cities of Ryatt and Merca. In his tunic pocket he carried the manuscripts that Arslan had been working on before his untimely death. In his hand he clutched the necklace he had taken from Hannei's throat at her passing, the necklace he had given her on receiving her into his care from Marcellus. With tears in his eyes, which he put down to the fiercely cold wind from the north, he staggered on, full of misery for the passing of his friends, whom he had known for such a brief time, and at the same time full of hope that he would eventually find Marcellus and together they would bring to his knees the cruel tyrant that threatened every life on Heraklion.            

By midsun Miki and Radulf had reached the lower slopes of the mountain. Radulf went first, surprisingly sure-footed for a city dweller, and Miki marvelled at the ease with which he assisted her over the more difficult parts of the ascent, feeling his strong fingers close around hers. Occasionally they stopped to rest, and take refreshment, which they had brought with them, but Miki's eyes were continually on the lookout for strange plants, and a patch of reddish-purple foliage some one hundred feet to their left caught her attention. She pointed. Radulf nodded.

'No! We go together!'

He shook his head.

'We should have brought a rope with us.'

She caught his hand, and would not release it until he agreed that they would both attempt to reach the strange-looking plant. But as they set off across the scree, the ground beneath their feet began to shake, and they looked at each other apprehensively.

'It is the jhrkuyt,' Radulf said.

'Will it kill us?'

'The fire that explodes fromt it comes down the side of the mountain, burning everything in its path.'

'What can we do?'

'I do not know. This was a foolish thing we did, Miki.' He took her in his arms and again they felt the mountain shake, and more smoke bellowed forth from the top, mingling with the dark clouds that gathered around its head.

'We must try to get the plant, Radulf. I am certain it is the one that will assist Marcellus back to full health.'

He nodded. With any luck they might be able to retrieve the plant and scramble to safety before the volcano erupted. Inch by inch, for the most part on all fours, they edged towards the plant, feeling new vibrations as the volcano gathered together its energy. At last Radulf was within touching distance of the plant.

'Try to get the root,' Miki urged him, and he stretched out his arm, aware that if he lost his balance now he would plunge over the edge of the ledge and out into the void. With Miki clinging to his ankles, he flattened himself out on the six-inch ledge and stretched. At that point the volcano gave its first eruption and the side of the rock face shuddered. Then Radulf's fingers closed around the plant and with a cry of triumph and despair he slipped from Miki's hands and disappeared over the ledge. Miki caught her breath and moved further along to where he had been, peering over, believing that she would see his body dashed against the rocks hundreds of feet below, or else still falling out into space. But there was no sign of him. She began to panic, her breathing coming in spurts and starts, and as the mountain shook again with renewed ferocity, she looked up towards the summit and to her horror saw a river of burning coals pouring down the side of the mountain. She was directly in its path.

Then she heard a faint but audible cry, and recognised Radulf's voice. She peered over the ledge again, but again she could see nothing.

'Miki, here! Swing yourself over the ledge!'

'Radulf!' she cried with almost total relief, aware that she had been crying. Carefully, so that he would not see this, she wiped away the tears and turned onto her stomach and lowered her legs over the edge.

'Down!' he cried. 'Lower your feet, I will catch you!'

She inched downwards, her belly and breasts pressed hard against the warm rock face, until she felt his fingers close around her left foot. Then she was sliding down into his arms, until at last they stood together on a narrow ledge. He clasped her to him, beaming excitedly, and they kissed.

'You still have the plant?' she cried, pulling out of his embrace.

'Of course! Come on, we must find a way back to the complex.'

'It is a sheer drop. The path we used to climb up here has been blown away by the explosion. There is fire running down the side of the mountain, Radulf.'

'I know. It is the inside of the mountain brought to the surface and thrown out. It will cool in a few days to a hard black substance. It will not reach the village.'

'How do you know?'

'It was not a big explosion.'

'There may me more.'

'That is true. But I do not believe we are in any danger at present. We have to find a way down off the mountain, Miki.'

'There, in the rock! There is a hole!'

'I do not think we should attempt to go inside the mountain.....'

'I do not see that we have any choice in the matter. I think I can squeeze through.....'

He watched, fascinated, as she pressed her small body against the side of the hole in the mountain side, and then she disappeared from view.

'Miki!' he called anxiously.

'Try to break some of the rock away, Radulf!' he heard her call. 'There is a path here, going down, inside the mountain. It is dark, but there is no fire inside here.'

'I am coming.' He kicked at the rock and felt it give slightly. His second kick dislodged a sizeable piece of rock and within a few moments he was able to squeeze his considerably larger body through the hole to join Miki on the inside of the mountain.            Taking her hand, he made his way through the labyrinth of dark passages, sensing that they were descending all the time. Occasionally they came to a wider chamber where they could look down into the depths and see the bright oranges and red of fire as they coursed upwards, swelling within the interior of the mountain. All the while Miki kept the shrub pressed close to her, knowing that there would be no second chance to ascend to the upper slopes where it grew, for they both knew that at any given moment the entire hillside could be destroyed by a further massive explosion. For the best part of two hours they followed the network of interior paths and holes made by previous lava flows and explosions, until they came to a tunnel that was evidently man-made. Not very tall, in fact so low that even Miki had to stoop to pass along it, this tunnel at last levelled out and became cooler so that they became connvinced that they were travelling away from the mountain.

At length this tunnel turned sharply to the right and gave onto a larger excavation, with a slight incline, and was a wider, taller passage altogether, in which both could walk happily upright. Radulf struck a light and saw that on either wall, which was carved straight and plastered smooth, there were torches. He reached for one and set his flame to it, and they both gasped in wonderment as they saw the artistic riches painted on the walls before them. That they were within a burial chamber of some kind neither was in any doubt, and although they had no way of knowing in which direction they had been travelling away from the mountain, Radulf suspected that they were in fact inside one of the pyramidal buildings they had passed by on their way to the village where Marcellus was held.

The passage they were in was so long they could not see the farther end. The paintings on the walls and the ceilings were exquisite, though sadly faded here and there with the passage of time, and depicted varying scenes of village and regal life. There were were clear depictions of a kjal and kjalia, and several scenes of war and carnage, in which the number of dead and wounded of the opposing tribes were so great that it was clear that at some point in history the people that inhabited this island had fought off an invasion of vast proportions. There were pictures also of the pyramidal structures, and of their construction, and everywhere there was evidence of the symbol of the moon God Khamen.

Many of the pictures were highly erotic, naked men with enormous penises at right angles to their bodies, approaching or conjoined with naked women with large breasts and inviting buttocks. Radulf suppressed a smile and Miki giggled, but by and large both were overly impressed with the quality of the paintings and the scenes they represented. Neither were the paintings in any way primitive, such as had been found in caves on mainland Heraklion, and painted by the first known settlers in such remote places as the plains of Hor-Lak and even further south in the harsh, hostile desert. They were highly crafted and representative, the people all having distinguishing and distinguishable features. It was as though they were walking through the pages of an enormous manuscript which told the story of the island race, page after page showing scenes of war and peace, sowing and harvesting, sexual practices and moon-God worship.

Occasionally, as they walked on past this embarrassment of hidden riches which they were sure none of the present-day villagers knew to be here, an ulver scurried out of the darkness, startled by the unexpected light borne by Radulf, and disappeared into a hole somewhere along the floor line of the tunnel. In many places the plaster fascia was cracked, as though damaged by an earth tremor such as would have happened at the time of a particularly bad eruption of the jhirkuyt.

Only one thing marred their appreciation of the arthouse into which they had accidentally stumbled, and that was the terrible sickly stench of foul air. But they carried on, knowing full well that any way out would have to be from this point rather than back up into the mountain and the terrifying eruptions that were occurring even as they walked.

'I believe we are decending into a burial chamber of some sort,' Radulf said.                  

'We are inside the giant pyramid, aren't we?'

He nodded, fort he was as sure as she was that that was where they were.

'Do you think anyone has been in here for hundreds of years?'

'I do not know enough of Herakian history to answer that question, Miki. I think we may be the first to discover this passage for a long time.'

'Do you think it is a temple to the moon God?'

'Undoubtedly.'

'The paintings on the walls - they are so like the images I saw during my dream.'

Radulf nodded.

'I imagined it must be so. It seems to be a little lighter up ahead.'

He was right. There were shafts of light appearing from both the left and right walls, and as they approached them they could see that they were caused by the existence of long, rectangular tunnels, the size of Radulf's hand, which appeared to reach right up to the outside world. The incidence of these shafts, which they reasoned to be for the purpose of admitting air to the structure, became more frequent as they progressed along the tunnel. Abruptly, the tunnel turned, sloping down and to the right, and as they turned the corner, Miki caught her breath and clutched his hand even tighter than before.

'The rainbow doorway!' she breathed. It was true. There was a doorway ahead of them, and on either side, for the first time, the light shafts were opposite each other, and where there light beams joined together, a rainbow was formed. There were no doors, only an arch some eight feet tall and a similar distance across. Here there were spider webs, and a layer of dust that almost closed over their feet as they approached.

'What do you think we shall find in here?' Radulf mused, squeezing her hand reassuringly, though he felt none himself.

'This was obviously intended to happen, Radulf. Maybe we will find in here a means to assist Angry Wolf's escape from the shackles that bind him in the village.'

'I do not doubt it for an instant.'

'I will go first.'

'I do not think that is wise.'

'It was my dream, Rad. I cancome to no harm, for this is exactly as I dreamed it. I saw the pointed building, and I saw the rainbow doorway. We have the herb to heal Angry Wolf's sickness. In this chamber there will be whatever we need to set him free.'

'I wish I had your confidence. We will enter the chamber together.'

She glanced up at him and smiled, acknowledging his decision, and together, hand in hand, they stepped through the rainbow beam and into the inner chamber. Inside the room was conical in shape, like a miniature representation of the pyramid that enclosed it. Four torches, one on each wall, blazed brightly, bathing the room with an orange glow. Again, each wall was brightly decorated. Apart from a central stone slab, the room was entirely empty.

'I see nothing in here that will assist us.....'

'The paintings on the walls.....'

'What of them?'

'They tell a story.'

'What story?'

'I do not know. But I recognise some of the faces. Look, there is Angry Wolf!'

Radulf frowned, peering at the wall.

'I do not see a resemblance.'

'But see! He towers over the others. He is a white man, and he has a scar running down his face. It is Angry Wolf!'

'Marcellus is not the only man on Heraklion with a scar running down his face, Miki.'

'I am aware of that. But he is pictured amongst bronzeskins. My people. That is my father, I am sure!'

Again Radulf peered at the painting, and had to concede, eventually, that the pictures did bear some resemblance to the individuals she claimed to have recognised. She walked around the room, studying each picture closely, as though reading the account of some gigantic battle that had taken place on Heraklion centuries earlier. The final panel, directly opposite the entrance through which they had come, was covered in hieroglyphic writing. For a time she studied the characters, whilst Radulf carried on examining the pictures to see if he could elicit any recognitiion from himself for the people depicted on the walls. At last she came to him, slipping her hand inside his.

'You were right. It is not Angry Wolf. That is not my father.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'I can read the writing on the wall. It is similar to writings shown to me by Osatai, the medicine man of the Warikeewa before he passed into the heavens.'

'You can read that? It is not Herakian!'

'I know it is not. It is a language much more ancient than any spoken on Heraklion now. No-one knew where it came from. Osatai used to tell me that before we were here, in the great plains of Pekeesh, men came from out of the sky in chariots of fire. They settled on Heraklion many hundreds of years ago and dispersed across the continents and into the provinces, populating them where there had been nothing, just a few animals and birds and insects. He believed that the only race indigenous to Heraklion are the Banu. Have you seen a banu?'

'No, I have not. I have heard stories of them.'

'They are black, entirely covered in hair, very fierce. They walk stooped, their arms are very long, and they are enormously strong. It is said that a banu can carry four times his own body weight.'

Radulf whistled.

'That is a great deal.'

'They live in Eskishehir. There is a tale regarding Angry Wolf that he befriended the banu in Eskishehir, and that the family he befriended him followed him to Pekeesh because they were outcast from Eskishehir.'

'Who told you such a tale?'

'It is part of Angry Wolf's own journal, the part about him befriending them in Eskishehir, and I have had further accounts of it from General Publius Maximus when he visited Warikeewa camp.'

'Marcellus kept a journal?'

Miki nodded.

'I do not know where it is now. An old man in Warikeewa camp, Hidalgo, helped him to compile it.'

'Did you read it?'

'Of course. It was exciting. Everyone wanted to read it.'

'But you do not know where it is now?'

'It is probably in Horta.'

'Yes, that is most likely. I should like to read it for myself.'

'You misjudged him at first?'

'Yes. I though he was a traitor to Barbessel. I thought he was preparing the way for the Warikeewa and the Hunyapa to invade my province.'