"What is this about?" Ikawa said quickly, gazing at Imada, who now stood rigid.

"Leti, we've got ten of our older sorcerers going out with the group to handle the equipment and baggage, don't we?"

"There's a lot going with us," she replied, her voice edged with curiosity over why her brother was concerned about such a detail. "There's our personal equipment, clothing, some trade items, gifts for the island rulers and for this druid character. It's quite a load."

"Think they can handle another hundred pounds or so?"

"I guess so. Why do you ask?"

"I heard she's nearly as slight as you are," Allic said, still looking at Imada and breaking into a smile. "I think a hundred pounds or so would be just about right--though don't ask her. Women are all so damn sensitive about their weight."

Confused, Imada could not reply.

"Damn it, lad, the girl goes with you, if that's the problem. I think you deserve this little reward. In fact, I'm ordering her to go along to keep you out of trouble."

Unable to contain himself, Imada let out an exuberant whoop.

"Hey, what's going on?" Walker shouted, coming over to join the group.

"She's going with me. Vena's going with me!"

"I heard you like this woman called Watan," Leti said, looking at Walker with a mischevious grin. "Shall we bring her too?"

A look of mock horror lit Walker's features.

"Like hell, your ladyship. But if you could arrange for Rita Hayworth..."

"Or Suda Codi," Mark suggested.

"One is enough," Allic replied. "This is supposed to be a military reconnaisance, not a floating love trip."

"Now go tell this remarkable girl of yours that I'm ordering her to look out for your health during the trip--and damn it, the two of you better get a good night's sleep. Now, get out of here."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," Imada said, bowing low. Turning, he dashed from the room, followed by the delighted catcalls of his comrades.

Ailic turned away and started for the door.

"My lord, forgive me for asking, but why?" Ikawa said, coming up beside him.

Why indeed? Allic wondered. He wasn't quite sure himself. If anything, the boy probably needed to be separated from her for awhile to reestablish his own sense of independence. Yet something in the back of his mind had whispered for him to do this. There was no logical reason, but Allic had found through long experience that at times his intuition could take what appeared to be the most inconsequential of events and turn them into a path that would later be more significant than he had ever anticipated. Doubtless this was only an indulgent whim, though, and smiling, he let the thought drop.

"Let's just say I can half remember a time when I was seventeen," he told Ikawa. "Anyhow, it's best that I be going. Take care of yourselves, and we'll see each other again shortly."

Allic was surprised when Ikawa suddenly extended his hand and grasped him by the forearm.

"Take good care of yourself, my lord. Our thoughts will be with you." Then, pulling back, Ikawa bowed.

Unable to reply, Allic merely nodded. Looking up, he caught Mark's gaze, and the outworlder, as if understanding something, wordlessly saluted.

"Take care, beloved brother." The thought whispered through his mind and he glanced over to see Leti staring anxiously at him.

"I always do," Allic thought in reply. She tried to smile, but didn't quite manage it.

Before the rest of the group had even realized it, Allic had slipped through the doorway and started down the corridor. Passing through the high-columned chambers of Jartan's audience halls, he looked about. All was silent and empty. With his father gone, followed by nearly all the sorcerers of his realm, Asmara seemed empty and still, like a tomb. The comparison troubled him as he continued on.

The few aging sorcerers who had been left behind to manage the portal nodded a wordless greeting as he entered the chamber. The glowing gateway shimmered before him.

"Any word?" he asked.

"The advance team hit through several hours ago, and gained a foothold inside one of Gorgon's dimensions," a white-haired sorcerer whispered. "We've taken some casualties, and Qubathin, Minar's youngest son, was killed."

"Damn it," Allic sighed, desperately wanting a drink. His hand drifted up to his tunic, and then he remembered that he had left his flask back at the party. The thought made him nervous.

He hesitated, tempted to go back and retrieve his talisman, but to do so now would look rather foolish.

"Are you ready, my lord?" the sorcerer murmured, nodding toward the portal.

He looked at the old woman and tried to smile.

"No," he whispered, "this time I'm not ready at all." Closing his eyes, he stepped forward and disappeared into the light.

Chapter 10.

Overwhelmed with the sheer pleasure of flying, Mark dove ahead of the formation, banking in a tight downward spiral. The coastline of Jartan's realm had long since dropped astern, and for several hours they had made their way eastward, flying high to catch a strong tail wind. Kochanski had already reported sensing the first artificial island just beyond the horizon, and all were eager for the first view.

"Hey Captain, wait up!"

Mark looked over his shoulder to see Walker dodging in behind him, like a fighter rolling in to wax his tail. Laughing, he cut a sharp split S to the left, and Walker, catching on to the game, held tight, closing the range.

"Behind you, Walker!"

Saito swooped down, cutting a tight arc, and reached out to slap Walker's feet.

"I'll be damned!" Walker roared, his pride wounded. Jack-knifing over, he went into a vertical dive, with Saito hot on his heels.

The pair dropped away.

Mark watched the mock combat with interest. Saito had obviously been practicing. Walker continued his dive toward the ocean, and Mark felt a faint tipple of concern as his young tail gunner pulled out at the last second. Saito dropped below him, and a faint line of spray kicked up as he skimmed the water, wobbled, and then finally recovered to cut up and slap Walker's feet again. The action was greeted with a shout of delight from the Japanese.

Walker, not to be outdone, went into a vertical climb and finally his superior skill allowed him to pull ahead. Coming up nearly to Mark's height he flipped over and dove straight back down on Saito. Mark held his breath as the two closed with terrifying speed. At the last possible second Walker broke left, rolled, and snapped in behind Saito. There was a faint crack of light and a yelp from Saito as the gentle bolt brushed his backside.

Slowing, Mark looked back at Ikawa, and for a moment he felt the tension again, unsure of how the group would react. He could see the concern in Ikawa's eyes as well. There had been an undercurrent of nervousness between the two groups now that the prospect of a way back home had been offered.

Climbing again Saito and Walker flew side by side. With a mock show of pain Saito rubbed his rear end, then broke out laughing.

"Next time, my friend," he chuckled. Walker, grinning with delight, and as usual completely unaware of the others' concern, fell in alongside the sergeant, and the two traded a round of good natured jibes.

Mark looked over at Ikawa and forced a smile. "Saito's getting damn good."

"Your Goldberg's been giving him some pointers."

Your Goldberg.The way it was said struck Mark as strange. What was happening here? he wondered.

Here on Haven he had found everything he had ever dreamed of having. Storm was a wonder of love that was beyond imagining. He held the power of a lord, and beyond that he could truly fly, a thrill still so intoxicating that for a moment his thoughts drifted again to the wonder of it all. About him were all his comrades, Americans and Japanese, weaving back and forth across the sky, racing ahead, climbing, dropping, chatting, and laughing as they leisurely floated through the air.

At the center of the group was a circle of ten of Jartan's sorcerers carrying a tightly woven net in which was piled their supplies, and the rather frightened Vena, with Imada floating by her side. In a way Mark felt sorry for the men and women who were assigned to be their bearers. They were a strange breed of sorcerers; never having mastered the lightning reflexes and offensive striking power for combat flying, they had instead developed the ability to carry heavy burdens through the air, and thus were always useful. They put him in mind of military transport pilots, absolutely essential to any endeavor, yet never knowing the ultimate challenge. They had developed their own guild, and looked at the single combat flyers around them like an adult troubled by a brood of boisterous children. Like transport pilots, they were the unsung heroes of any military operation, and in times of peace, they were in many ways far more important than the aerial combat flyers of Haven who could barely get off the ground with the burdens these sorcerers moved vast distances with ease.

What would happen to all of this if a gate back home was found? He tried to imagine life back on Earth and knew that he would be forever haunted by this dreamlike world. Yet he felt honor-bound to return; he had taken an oath and his country was still at war. What would it be like to return to that war? It was hard now to even imagine the sensation of holding a yoke in his hand, the whispering of the wind replaced by the roar of four Wright Cyclone engines. And the flak, the damn flak bursting ahead, with the Zeroes swinging in so that he felt small and naked as their cannon fire slashed through the plane.

Mark looked at Ikawa. They would have to kill each other back there. The two of them, who had more than once saved each other's life would be enemies again. Yet they were both honor-bound to go.

"Will you go back?" Mark asked, unable to contain the question any longer.

Ikawa tried to smile. "I have the same oath as you."

"We would be enemies again," Mark said sadly.

"That would never happen," Ikawa said, reaching out to touch Mark on the shoulder. "I would rather die myself than hurt you."

"I know that, my friend."

And Ikawawas his friend, the closest he had ever known.

"What about the others?" Mark asked.

"I think our oaths as officers are different," Ikawa replied. "I will not order any of my men to return. Here they are warlords; back home they would be nothing but numberless bodies. Yet even so, I think quite a few will go. The ties of their families are strong for them."

"I think Smithie might go back, maybe Kraut as well," Mark said slowly. "The others I'm not sure, but you're right, it will be up to each individual."

"You two seem awfully glum." Leti drifted to Ikawa's side.

"Oh, just chatting," Mark said, a little too quickly. He knew what Leti must be feeling; he had seen it in Storm's eyes when he had first told her about Kochanski's discovery of the druid. There had been no scene, she had carried herself as always with the mature bearing befitting her station. Where was she now--and Allic as well? Mark breathed a silent prayer for their safety. Here he was worrying about what was just a slim possibility, while his lord and the woman he loved might even now be in combat, or worse.

"The island should be just over the horizon now." As she spoke, Mark could discern a faint smudge of white.

"Tulana, we have you in sight now," Leti announced into her comm crystal.

"Good to hear from you, Leti, you lovely old wench."

Startled, Ikawa looked at his lover.

A faint blush tinted her face. "Tulana's an old friend," she explained. "He owns the central chain of islands. We've known each other a long time."

"I see," Ikawa said evenly, trying hard to hide any jealousy.

"Your bottom still as lovely as ever?"

She held the crystal away and said quickly, "He never got that far."

"It's all right," Ikawa replied, trying to stay calm.

Mark struggled unsuccessfully to suppress a grin.

"Well damn me, woman, tonight will be like old times, so hurry up and get down here, I've been waiting all day. In fact I've been waiting for nearly a damn decade to see you again,"

"We'll be down shortly, coming in out of the southwest." Then Leti touched Ikawa's hand and said. "He can be a little tiresome."

Ikawa merely nodded.

Feeling it best to leave the two alone, Mark swung away and climbed through the light scattering of clouds. The air was warm and pleasant, the ocean below a splendid turquoise glittering in the late morning sun.

Still riding the easterly wind, the group held formation a mile above the ocean. At first it appeared they were approaching an anchored ship, floating in the middle of the sea, but as they drew closer the sheer size of it all started to set in.

"Damn thing must be five thousand feet across," Goldberg shouted, coming up to fly beside Mark.

"Makes a carrier look like a rowboat!" Kochanski called.

Amazed, Mark felt as if he was flying over a 17th century fortress town in Europe. The island was laid out in a star pattern, the five points resting on massive circular pontoons, dominated by spirelike battlements which tapered upward into towering masts. Each of the five points was obviously a bastion with crenellated walls and a central keep. The five bastions were free-floating, linked back to the central island by broad triangular drawbridges, with the points reaching the bastions, and the bases linked firmly to the main island.

The central part of the star was more than six hundred yards across, resting on a circle of pontoons.

From the air it looked like a crazy patchwork quilt of narrow streets, warehouses, homes, and even several small temples. Bobbing at the tip of each bastion were glass-covered stills, which converted the sea water, through evaporation by the sun, into drinking water. On the leeward side of the island, the open space between two of the bastions served as a harbor for what appeared to be half a hundred fishing vessels and a score or more heavy oceangoing sailing ships.

The sailing ships captivated Mark's attention almost as much as the island city. The largest one, nearly a football field in length, was reminiscent of the classic clipper ships of McKay which had raced the famous China route a hundred years before. The ship was twin hulled, its lines sleek and graceful, with masts a hundred yards or more in height.

"Damned if that one over there doesn't look like a trireme," Kraut shouted, pointing to an arrow-sleek vessel that was cutting through the gently rolling sea, its oars rising and dropping in unison.

"Time to go down," Leti called, and winging over she started into a nearly vertical dive.

"Look, I'm a dive bomber," Walker shouted, and extending his arms like wings, he rolled up and over.

Laughing, the rest of the group fell to imitating him. Mark joined in the fun, arms extended, plummeting straight down.

The star city filled the world beneath him, rushing ever closer. Following Leti's lead, they dove directly towards the central part of the island, to an open platform atop a pyramid-shaped temple. Mark cut his speed and swung out, then circled in and lightly touched down, the rest of the group alighting around him.

The platform was empty except for the new arrivals. Looking up, he saw the transport sorcerers making a far more stately and workmanlike approach, Imada still hovering alongside them.

"Leti darling!"

Mark turned to see a huge, shambling bear of a man, nearly seven feet in height, with shoulders as wide as Shigeru and a flowing auburn beard that swept down past a broad leather belt which seemed ready to burst due to his tremendous girth.

The giant strode forward and with a single hand swept Leti into the air, as if she were a toy. With a display of bravado he loudly kissed her on the cheek and then made as if to kiss her on the neck.