"Get back against the back wall, as far as you can. Both of you."

His tone brooked no denial and tolerated no questions. Califa urged the boy back into the shadows until they came up against the wall of the bunker. Dax backed up a few steps himself, stopping several feet in front of them. Then he again reached inside his cloak and brought out the flashbow.

Califa knew what to expect now, but still, and in spite of their dilemma, it fascinated her. He took a bolt from his boot and slipped it into the open groove; Califa heard the faint sound as it hit the metal case. He notched the string, then flipped the lever she'd seen before. That low-pitched hum began. In the dim light of the cell, the glow of the bolt seemed eerie, magical somehow. And despite her logical turn of mind, Califa wasn't altogether certain it wasn't.

Dax took a deep breath, then slowly raised the weapon. He settled it against his shoulder. And then, oddly, he aimed it upward, toward the remaining roof of the old bunker, where it protruded far out beyond the wall and the door. She saw his finger curl around the trigger release on the bottom of the etched silver stock.

Califa held her breath, hearing the running footsteps closing in. He closed his eyes, standing so very still she couldn't even see him breathing. It seemed to her that even the bow itself began to glow beneath his touch. And then, there in the dark, dank cell, she thought for an instant that the glow expanded, enveloping Dax himself as well as the weapon. Only then did he open his eyes.

"Turn your head and cover your ears," she warned the boy, who made an awed sound as he did so. The soldiers were here, she could see the figures in the shadows outside the door.

Dax pulled the trigger. The glowing bolt raced down the groove. A split second later a flash of light a hundred times fiercer than the mock-meteors, brighter than a bank of Beltar's hunt-lights, filled the ruin. In the same instant the accompanying earsplitting crack of sound made them sway on their feet. The thunder had barely died away before the roof began to crumble.

Suddenly realizing what he'd done, Califa ran forward to pull the dazed Dax out of the path of the falling debris. They huddled against the back wall until the rumble of sound stopped. She coughed as the dust began to settle. They were trapped, as thoroughly as if the Coalition had done it themselves. And she guessed a couple of the patrol had not escaped being trapped themselves, under the pile of rubble.

She looked at Dax, who was still looking a little unfocused. But he had to have had a plan, she knew he did, or he wouldn't have asked her if she could fly the shuttle. And he wouldn't have sealed them in here like this, to die as soon as the air ran out.

Dax shook his head once, then looked at her. She saw him snap out of it, and glance toward the pile of rubble blocking what had once been the only way in or out. When he smiled in grim satisfaction, she knew she'd been right. She just wished she had a clue as to what he was planning. When he looked at her again, she knew she was going to find out.

"Promise me that if you have to, you will take the boy and go. Get to the shuttle and get yourselves and Rina out of here."

"Dax"

"Please, Califa. We don't have time to argue. I've got to know you'll do this, if you have to."

She hesitated, but as his eyes bore down into her she couldn't say no. Not after he'd walked meekly into this cell, pa.s.sing up his one chance for escape, simply because he trusted her.

"If I have to," she agreed reluctantly. "But"

"Get the boy into the far comer," he ordered, gesturing toward the corner opposite the wall nearest where they'd come into the outpost. "But you'll have to come back, Califa. I may need your help."

She scurried the boy into the comer, gave him a rea.s.suring hug, then went back to Dax.

I may need you to load these," he said.

She instinctively held out her hands to take what he was handing her. She nearly jumped when she realized they were the bolts for the flashbow. They felt so odd, cool and smooth, and much heavier than they appeared. And he'd given her eight of the nine that had been left in his boot. The other was in his hand.

"Don't stand too close until after I fire. Then just hand me the next one. If I don't ask you for it by the time the dust settles, slide it in the groove yourself."

She realized then what he planned to do.

If he has to fire too often, the warrior can die from it.

"Dax, it will take too many shots to blast our way out of here."

He gave her a crooked smile. "It's the only way, snowfox."

He lifted the bow again, slid in the bolt, notched the metallic string, and flipped the lever. As the hum began, Califa instinctively backed up.

She saw the glow leap, enveloping him yet again, and she knew he was about to fire. She turned her head, covering her ears, guessing the sound would be even more ferocious in this closed-in place.

She was right. It echoed off the walls, deafeningly, and she barely heard the boy's cry of fright. She wondered how Dax could stand it, but when she looked at him he wore that dazed look, as if he hadn't heard it at all.

Then she looked at the wall. Half of it was gone, and a sizable chunk of the hill itself behind it. Nearly three feet of it. If the hill was really thirty feet through, it would take all nine shots they had. If Dax lived that long. She smothered a tiny cry as she went to him.

It took him longer to come out of it this time, but when he did he merely held his hand out for another bolt. He loaded it, and it all happened again. He swayed this time afterward, but recovered when Califa steadied him. She turned to check the hole.

He'd gained fourno, it was almost five this time feet. Apparently the wall had used up a larger portion of the first bolt's energy. After two minutes, he loaded another bolt. The process seemed to take longer this time, but the resulting explosion was no less intense. Again he swayed, letting the bow fall to his side as he closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily now, sweat breaking out on his forehead. But he had gained a good six feet this time, it was truly a tunnel now, and Califa wondered if perhaps the ground was softer as they got farther from the bunker itself.

It took three minutes this time, but he loaded the bow again. She thought she saw him shiver, but he controlled it so quickly she couldn't be sure. This time when he fired, he staggered and nearly went down. Califa leapt to his side, steadying him.

"No more, Dax," she said. She glanced at the tunnel. It went out of sight into darkness. She knew it had to be over fifteen feet now. An odd scent lingered in the air, an electric, burning odor she'd smelled once before, in the dank corridor of a prison.

"No more," she repeated. "We'll dig by hand if we have to, but you can't fire that thing anymore."

"No. Time. Air." She could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"Dax" He shook his head. He seemed to focus a little then.

"Got to get out. They may...hear. Guess."

She couldn't deny that; the explosions were deafening in here, they must be at least audible outside. And theywere running out of air in here; apparently he'd done a superb job of sealing the entrance.

He took another bolt from her. Moving slowly, he loaded it. Califa backed away.

G.o.d, she thought, as if only his G.o.d could help her now, what if I was wrong? What if it's farther than I thought? He could die, for nothing. For a miscalculation. The lightning flashed and the thunder cracked. Another five feet of ground vanished. And Dax went to his knees.

The warrior can die, the warrior can die, the warrior can die...

The words echoed through her mind in rhythm with the ringing of her ears. But Dax struggled to his feet. And fired again. And again. And the last time, when he went to his knees he dropped the bow.

"Load," he gasped out.

"G.o.d, Dax, stop." Sweat was pouring off him now, his face was as pale as her own, and his eyes were dark-circled and hollow looking.

Promise me that if you have to, you will take the boy and go. Get to the shuttle and get yourselves and Rina out of here.

He'd known. He'd known what he was going to do would probably kill him.

"Please, Dax, stop. You're killing yourself."

"Two. More."

"You can't"

"Load!"

Trembling, she took the next to the last bolt and slid it down the groove as she'd seen him do too many times now. She notched the metal strand, startled at the amount of pull necessary; it took her both hands. Nothing happened. She made sure the bolt was up solidly against the metal casing. Still nothing.

Then, shakily, Dax held out his hand. She lifted the bow, amazed by its weight; he'd always carried and lifted it so easily. She placed it in his hand.

The bolt began to glow. It happened slowly this time, the glow flickering a time or two in a way that made Califa bite her lip. But gradually it grew stronger. And brighter. Brighter even than before. As if he were pouring the last of his strength into it. As if he were pouring his life into it.

He fired.

The burst of light and the roar of sound echoed back down the tunnel. The bow clattered to the ground. And Dax collapsed at her feet.

With a cry of terror she knelt beside him. She rolled him over, cradling his head with her arms. She lifted him until his shoulders were across her lap. His head lolled back, frighteningly limp. Already he felt cold to her. He looked waxen, his face pale and slack. The skin around his eyes stood out like b.l.o.o.d.y bruises. He wasn't breathing, and Califa was afraid to feel for a pulse; she knew she would find none. He looked like a death mask of himself. She cradled him in her arms, and for the second time in two decades, she wept. And then, on the tear-dampened skin of her face, she felt a cool breeze sweeping in from the tunnel.

"Give him the bow back."

Califa gulped back a sob and stared at the boy through eyes still blurry with tears. "Wha-at?"

"Give him the bow," the boy repeated. He'd crept out of the corner shortly after Dax had collapsed.

"The legend says even a dead flashbow warrior will rise again if you put his bow in his hand."

A dead flashbow warrior. Califa felt a chill unlike any she'd ever known. G.o.d, she hated leaving him here, for the Coalition to find. But she couldn't carry his body. Not through that tunnel, and all the way back to the shuttle.

But the boy was right; at least they would find him with the flashbow in his hands, so they would know who had truly stolen their other Triotian prize from them. She lifted the heavy bow and set it across his torso, then lifted his too cold, limp right hand to press it around the etched silver stock. Then she bent over him, stroking one last time the thick, dark mane of hair before pressing her lips to his, weeping once more as she felt the coolness of his skin, the slackness of his mouth.

"Oh, Dax, I wish"

She wished a hundred things, none of them possible. But one thing was. She would finish this task he'd set for himself. She would take the Triotians, including this boy, home. And she wouldn't leave Trios, no matter what Dare did, even if he wished to execute her, until they admitted that Dax hadn't been to blame for anything except youthful folly and hot temper.

She kissed him again, wishing she could see those vividly green eyes just once more, "Goodbye, my skypirate," she whispered, then had to gulp back another sob at the realization that she would never hear him teasingly call her snowfox again. It was a moment before she could bring herself to release her hold on him.

"We must go," she said at last, easing his head to the ground as she slipped out from beneath him.

"No, something's wrong," the boy said. "He should come back."

Califa bit back a sob. "He's never coming back. We must go, so that what he's done isn't for nothing."

The boy ignored her. "You have to load it," he said suddenly. "That must be it."

He looked at her expectantly. Why not, she thought, if it would make the boy happy. She searched the ground and found the last bolt where she'd dropped it when Dax had crumpled. Gently she slid it down the silver groove until it was seated against the metal casing. With a great effort, she notched the string. The boy nodded, then reached over to flip the lever on the bow. Nothing happened.

"Now we must go," she said firmly, taking the boy's hand. She pulled him toward Dax's tunnel, feeling the cool breeze increasing as they got closer. She'd promised, she kept repeating to herself. He'd known this would happen, that's why he'd made her promise. He'd trusted her to keep that promise, and keep it she would.

"It's not right," the boy said, staring up at her, his lips trembling now. "He shouldn't die like that, he's a flashbow warrior, they're supposed to come back if you give them their bow"

"It's a legend," Califa explained gently. "Sometimes, legends...aren't what they appear."

And who had known that better than Dax?

She stepped into the tunnel, barely having to bend over, so huge was the hole the flashbow had made. It was dark, but she had the feel of that blessed breeze to guide her. She tugged on the boy's hand again.

"No, wait!"

Califa sighed. She knew nothing of dealing with children, and she couldn't deal with a stubborn one, not now.

"Look!" he cried, yanking fiercely at her hand, pulling her back into the cell.

Dax still lay where he'd fallen. The bow still lay across his chest.

But the bolt was glowing.

Chapter 23.

For the first time in her life, Califa knew she had been given something just for the wishing of it: Dax opened his eyes.

She didn't understand. She didn't care that she didn't understand. She only knew that she was on the floor of this d.a.m.ned cell looking down into a pair of jade-colored eyes she'd thought closed forever. Slightly glazed eyes, it was true, but his pulse was steady if not particularly strong beneath her fingers, and his breathing regular if shallow. He was still ashen, and far too cold for her comfort, but he was undeniably alive.

"I told you," the boy exulted.

"Yes," Califa whispered, "yes, you did."

At her voice some of the dazed look left his eyes. "Sn..." He tried again. "Snow...fox?"

"It's all right, Dax. You did it, everything's going to be all right."

"I...did?"

"Blasted that tunnel right through to the other side," the boy exclaimed. Clearly Dax's heroics had done much to help him forget, for the moment, that they were still in his cell.

Dax's eyes focused on her then. His brows furrowed, but only for a moment, as if it were too difficult for him to hold the forbidding expression.

"You were supposed to get out of here."

"She was going to," the boy explained. "When she thought you were dead. She was crying. I had to tell her to give you the bow back, so the legend could come true."

Dax never shifted his gaze from her face as she cradled his head in her lap. "You thought I...?"

"You were, Dax. You were limp and cold and I"

"Cried? You cried... for me?"