People of the Trail

by Rod Hunsicker

Branh Pim took a wide step over a pile of thoat manure. There were many of the beasts in the camp since the barbarians were too primitive to use fliers. There was very little evidence of typical Heliumite technology anywhere as Branh Pim made his way toward a small group of women standing in the center of camp. The thin atmosphere of the Red Planet was filled with the earthy smells of animals and men, leather and oil. The barbarians were a nomad race. They called themselves the People of the Trail. Their mode of transportation was a remarkably tough breed of thoat, and while this thoat was not as large as those ridden by the green men, it was far stronger, faster and hardier than the thoats used by the people of Helium. And with typical barbarian audacity, the tribesmen of Quarth made the same arrogant statement about themselves.

Branh Pim wasn't interested in the barbarians' thoats or their arrogance. There was only one thing in the barbarian camp that he was interested in: a lovely girl by the name of Ritta Zol. He saw her standing with some other women, talking as women are prone to do, in the middle of a camp that was bristling with activity. And the reason for this activity was her tribes imminent departure. Branh Pim rushed over to the girl so he could plead his love to her before she disappeared with her tribe into the wilds of the dead sea beds.

One of the girls talking to Ritta Zol laughed and half turned to whisper in her ear. "He's coming now. And he's hurrying."

Ritta Zol smiled, but didn't look toward the Heliumite. "He'd better hurry if he wants to speak with me before we leave."

"Don't you want to speak with him? He's very handsome. And a noble of Helium. How many men like him have been calling your name recently," said Ritta Zol's friend.

Ritta Zol pushed back her wavy dark brown hair. Unlike most red men, the tribesmen of Quarth possessed hair that was shaded toward dark brown instead of black. Their hair was wavy, almost shaggy, and the People of the Trail loved to wear it long. Many of the women, and some of the men, wore their hair in intricate weaving patterns, though Ritta Zol preferred it to flow freely to her waist. A simple hide headband kept it from falling forward and covering her pretty face.

The girls turned their backs to the approaching Branh Pim. All he could see was their long hair covering their bodies down to their curvaceous buttocks. A thin strip of rawhide separated their cheeks and below that their long legs were naked. On their feet they wore boots made of softened hide.

"Ritta Zol," called the young Heliumite, "I wish to speak with you."

The barbarian girl peeked out from her circle of friends. Her black eyes danced with excitement. How splendid the Heliumite looked in his ornate harness and finely sewn furs. Her blood raced as she ran her eyes over his sword and radium pistol. Such fine weapons, she thought. The radium pistol was unknown among her primitive people.

In his rush to get to the girl, Branh Pim nearly ran into a warrior who was rubbing down his thoat.
The royal psychologist reached out and touched the man as he jumped aside to avoid an accidental collision. The warrior bristled and reached for his sword.

"Sorry," said the Heliumite. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Glaring at Branh Pim, the barbarian curled his lips into a sneer. His wild eyes ran over the young psychologist and lingered on the latter's radium pistol. "Keep your hands to yourself, Heliumite. The men of Quarth are not accustomed to being jostled."

"As I said, it was an accident," said Branh Pim. "Now, if you will excuse me."

The warrior grabbed Branh Pim's arm. "You rich city folk think you can go around offending simple people like us. Do you think you're better than me, boy?"

Anger boiled up in the young Heliumite. With professional skill he channeled his own anger away from his sword hand. He reminded himself that he had not come to the camp to fight with strangers. In fact, unlike many of his peers, Branh Pim was revolted by unnecessary violence. He was a man of science before a man of the sword.

"I don't think that at all. How can I make that judgment if I don't know you? Let me introduce myself; I am Branh Pim of Helium," said the Third Royal Psychologist. While he was introducing himself, Branh Pim began to employ one of his professional talents. On Barsoom there was a broad band of non-verbal communication that linked all living things that were capable of constructing the most simple of thoughts. Most of the intelligent creatures of Barsoom used the 'telepathic' band as a supplement to a very limited spoken language. This was not by choice. Barsoomian telepathy was mandatory for the inhabitants of the Red Planet, though most people could direct their thoughts to a receiver of their choice, and there were people who could mask their thoughts completely through sheer will power. But the truth was that the information obtained through the broad band telepathy was diffuse, and often not much good for anything but a language supplement. Occasionally there was a need for greater depth in reading the band. A few people had the ability to probe the telepathic band and receive messages that were extraordinary in scope and detail. When this ability was combined with a proficiency in the profession of psychology, these Barsoomian "psychologists" were able to accomplish seemingly impossible feats involving the extraction of information from the telepathic band that permeated the atmosphere of the Red Planet.

It was a rather mundane feat for Brinh Pim to decipher the emotions and inner thoughts of the tribesman. He did so rapidly so that it was not long after he had introduced himself that he knew what was motivating the tribesman to act so aggressively.

"I don't care who you are. Bom Ger is not a man to be pushed by some sweet smelling city softie," retorted the tribesman. His hand reached for his long sword and he began to draw it from its plain leather scabbard.

"May I remind you that your people are here by the grace of the Lotharians. You are under a oath of diplomacy. And under that oath you should be more forgiving of slights against your honor that are unintentional," said Branh Pim smoothly.

"What kind of a calot hides behind diplomacy when his personal honor has been pissed on. Are you afraid to settle with me?" shouted Bom Ger.

Branh Pim resisted the natural impulse to strike out at the barbarian. The remark that he was afraid was both insulting and provoking. Again, the royal psychologist called upon his years of training to remain calm.

"There is nothing to settle. If you will only control yourself our problem will disappear," replied Branh Pim with a strained smile.

Several of the warriors who had been nearby formed a ring around the two quarreling men. Most of them were eager to see a fight between Bom Ger, a fellow they knew as surly and truculent, and the fine looking Heliuemite. One of them, however, was against combat between the two. He was a tall man with a rugged face and a body full of scars.

"That's enough, Bom Ger. The Heliumite apologized. It looked like an accident to me. Let the matter drop," said this man, clearly a chief because the other barbarians deferred to him as he stepped through the temporary ring of spectators.

Bom Ger snarled at the interruption. He raked his eyes over the Heliumite and rubbed his lips with the back of his hand. He was reluctant to give up the quarrel and remained truculant until his chief stepped directly in front of him and stared into his eyes.

"We leave within hours. No trouble, Bom Ger. Is that clear?" said the chief.

The quarrelsome barbarian backed down. "Sure, Damm Ver. I'll let it ride."

Damm Ver turned to the psychologist. "My apologies, Heliumite. We are a small tribe of the People of the Trail. We are much away from other peoples, even those of the Trail, so we are not as civilized as most. We seek trade and peace with the Lotharians. And the Heliumites should we meet them in our travels."

"Of course, Damm Ver. I'm sorry the incident happened at all. Thank you for your timely intervention," said the psychologist. "Now if you will excuse me, I want to speak with someone before your tribe leaves."

Branh Pim backed away from the band of barbarians and strode toward the girl he wanted to talk to. Before he got halfway there he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Branh Pim, a word with you."

A middle sized panthan with regular features trotted up to Branh Pim. He was Cormuc Fan, a panthan who had recently been taken into the service of Fray, a friend and colleague of Branh Pim. He was a quiet, serious youth who was remarkably strong despite his medium stature. There was an unusual broadness and depth to his chest and a thickness to his limbs. And while his facial features appeared regular at first glance, a second glance reduced them to a primitive, brutal handsomeness. There was rarely a smile on that primeval face.

"Is something wrong, Cormuc Fan?" asked the psychologist with a frown. If Cormuc Fan were here, he must be delivering a message from Fray. Yet, he had spoken to his friend only several minutes before leaving for the Quarth camp.

"Not at all. I bring a message from my jed, Fray. He says that the Lotharians, Huk To has succeeded in manifesting a corporeal body. He will begin the transfer of his consciousness within the hour. Fray asks that you come along," said the panthan.

This was good news. One of the most difficult projects that he and Fray had been working on had been helping the Lotharians establish new bodies so that they could abandon the embalmed corpses their consciousness had been residing in. Huk To had been the closest to manifesting a physical body because he had been a physician in the past and was most familiar with the physical intimacies his old body. Professionally, Branh Pim wanted to be on hand to see the permanent transfer of Huk To's mind from his withered old body to a new, alive body. He glanced over at the lovely form of Ritta Zol as he paused in indecision.

"I have to talk with someone first, Cormuc Fan. I don't think it will take long. At least, I hope not. Can you wait for me?" said Branh Pim.

"Of course," replied the panthan tartly.

The psychologist smiled and strode over to the girl. Cormuc Fan followed a discrete ten paces behind. Brinh Pim rehearsed his pitch to the girl as he got close to her. Unfortunately she turned her back to him and tossed her wavy dark brown hair. An universal sign of rejection by a Red Martian woman.

"Ritta Zol, I would like to speak with you," Brinh Pim said slowly.

The girl peeked over her shoulder and smirked. "What words could I have with a coward," she said.

"Coward! Why call me that?" ejaculated Brinh Pim. Though astounded by her accusation, he quickly equated it to the incident with Bom Ger. It was not atypical of a red girl to arrive at such a conclusion with impulsive quickness. It was a little disheartening to the psychologist that she would not face him and request an explanation.

"Everyone saw it. You refused Bom Ger's challenge. Only a coward would do that," she barked.

"I am no coward. That man is a fool and a pirate. All he wanted was my radium pistol. He hoped to take it from my dead body as spoils of the duel. Is it profitable to fight such a fool over his greed?" replied Brinh Pim.

"It is profitable not to appear a coward before others. You have spoken to me on matters of love. Do not continue. I can not speak of love to a man who doesn't care if others know he is a coward or not, whether or not he is a coward."

Brinh Pim realized that there had been more at stake during his encounter with the barbarian than his radium pistol. He should have realized that the girl had been watching. He wondered if he would have handled the situation any differently if he had realized it.

"If I go over there and lope off his head would that make a difference to you?" he asked. What could he do? He desired this girl. In his foolishly romantic heart he thought he loved her. Impulsive violence was not something he approved of. Nor did he participate in it. Should he betray his principles just to win her love?

She beamed at his offer. A pixie light sprang into her eyes. "Well, it would be a start."

Brinh Pim back pedaled a step. He glanced over at Bom Ger, who was still grooming his thoat. He shook his head. There was no way he was going to kill a man over such a minor incident. Not even to please this pretty barbarian girl.

"No, I can't do that. Its not right," he said slowly. It was the right thing to do for millions of red men. It wasn't the right thing for Brinh Pim to do.

"Then flee to your walled city, Heliumite. You are not worthy of a maid of the Trail. We want only real men," she said with a haughty laugh. Then she turned and walked away. Her troupe of maids followed her. Several of them snickered or laughed out loud. Ritta Zol never looked back. Her pride was too great for that.

Branh Pim remained still. He knew the girl had some affection for him. He was too good a psychologist to be mistaken. He had thought it was the beginning of genuine love. He was disappointed to learn that she was so shallow. Despite his feelings for her, she was not the woman to share his life. At least, that was what he told himself as he turned to the panthan.

"Let's go. My business here is concluded."

The walls of ancient Lothar were only several hundred yards away. Walking briskly, the two men quickly left the Quarth camp behind. Neither spoke as they passed into the city and made their way to the laboratory where Fray and the Lotharians were waiting for them.

The laboratory was a small room, lit by several radium lights, and crowded by the presence of a half dozen men. Lying on a slab was the body of a white skinned man with auburn hair. It was a handsome body, in the prime of life, though it made little movement other than a shallow lifting and dropping of its chest. Sitting next to the body was the shimmering apparition of Huk To. His black eyes burned phantom holes into the youthful body lying before him. His face was twisted with greed and desire as he anticipated living once again in the body of a young man.

There was no misdeed being done. The body lying there was as mindless as the slab it was laying upon. It was a perfect replica of Huk To's own body as it had been many thousands of years ago. The Lotharian's powerful mind, his expertise with medical skills, and the help of coleagues such as his fellow Lotharians, Fray and Branh Pim, had combined to make his dream come true. The body was real. All he had to do was take possession.

"The time is now. Bonding your psyche and spirit to the body will substantiate it in our reality," said Fray. He went over and placed his hand on Huk To's shoulder. Clearly, the old man was having second thoughts. His courage was faltering before the enormous significance of what he was about to do. He feared to touch his dream. If he should fail, his spirit might not be able to bear the disappointment.

"This is what you have been waiting for," said Brinh Pim. "It is the culmination of all our work. You must decide how you will spend the rest of your life. Do you want to simply exist or do you want to truly live?" The psychologist had been working with all of the Lotharians in an effort to prepare them to step away from the odd existence they had been enduring for so long. Their great minds were housed in withered mummified bodies, and for millennia they had been waiting for real bodies. Sometimes waiting for something is better than actually possessing it.

Even as Brinh Pim was counseling the Lotharian, the back of his mind was filled with the image of the barbarian girl. He struggled to focus his full energies on the task at hand.

"Take your life back," urged Kar Komak. He was a living Lotharian who had sprung from the thoughts and dreams of those mummified minds of Lothar. His existence indicated that Huk To could be the next success story. And beyond Kar Komak stood his mate; a Lotharian woman that had been materialized out of thin air thousands of times until she too, had become real.

Huk To leaped from his withered body to the new young body. Huddled around the slab, the scientists and warriors watched as the new Huk To opened his eyes and sat up.

"It is done," he said in a vibrant voice. "I live again."

"We have to run some tests to be sure," said Fray, "but it looks very good."

Branh Pim stood on the great wall that protected the city. The barbarians were finished breaking camp and were starting to go back to the Trail. When they departed, Ritta Zol might be gone from him forever.

"Is it the barbarian wench?"

Lantran Garth had come up behind him silently. He stood next to his friend and watched the People of the Trail break camp. Lantran Garth had known the psychologist for a long time. They had a friendship that was a close as it could be. It was one of those odd friendships established between men who are very different from each other. Branh Pim was a scholarly man, while Lantran Garth was a man of action. The one thing they had in common was a passion for their respective professions and the proficiency that resulted from it.

"I know she is not the girl for me. How could she be? A dirty, little barbarian wench with a primitive, uneducated mind. Yet, her zest for life made me feel more alive than I had ever felt before." He confided in his friend as a melancholy mood swept over him.

"That's a good feeling, isn't it. Now that you know it, perhaps you'll find it again with another girl," said the tall warrior.

"Is it as simple as that, my friend? For you, perhaps, but not for me. I still want to go out there and try again. Is there any hope that I can convince her to stay with me?" replied Branh Pim. In his mind's eye he saw her dancing dark eyes, the alluring sweetness of her smile, and the gentle curve of her smooth red brown hips.

"She liked you. I think that was plain enough. With that to start with there is always hope. Try again if you like," advised Lantran Garth.

Branh Pim turned his head and looked at his friend sideways. These were words of wisdom from a man with a girl in every city in the Helium empire. The advice to try again was simple to give and hard to accept considering the risk of hurt feelings. The psychologist laughed. The truth be told, his feelings were already hurt since they were being wounded by the departure of Ritta Zol.

The air was thicker here than other parts of Barsoom. Already the plants created by Fray were ejecting their oxygen into his world's weak atmosphere. Branh Pim sucked in a deep breath and was galvanized by the new strength building in the air.

"I think I'll go for a ride. Haven't done much riding since I've come here and I could use the exercise," said Branh Pim.

"Mind if I go along," asked the giant warrior, "I could use a little exercise too."

Branh Pim smiled. While he didn't need a wet nurse, his friend's company was always welcome.

"Sure, come along. It must be boring for a man of action like you to just sit on his butt all day long. A ride will do us both good," he said.

Lantran Garth slapped his friend's shoulder heartily and they bounded down to the stables.

The ancient stables had been renovated recently, and were now filled with the thoats of the red warriors who had accompanied Lantran Garth to the old city of Lothar. As the news had spread of the work that was being done in Lothar, more red men had come to the ancient city and were still arriving daily. The chief interest of these men was Fray's attempt to breed a biological solution to Barsoom's lack of atmosphere. The alien scientist had introduced a plant into the environment that was a prolific oxygen producer. There was healthy evidence that the plant was working, but none of the learned red men, nor the warriors who had come along to protect them, were ready to junk the atmosphere plant, a massive factory that produced nearly all of the air that every living being on Barsoom breathed.

There were other interests in Lothar those days. Scholars with interests in psychology, history and technology came to learn from the Lotharians. More and more of the ancient Lotharians were tuning into the world as it was that day, and more of them were willing to share their knowledge with the scientists and learned men of the present.

So it was that stables that had not seen a living thoat for thousands of years were once again, alive with the sights, sounds and smells of the riding beasts of Mars. When the two friends came to saddle their respective mounts they saw a familiar man leading his thoat out of its stall. It was Cormuc Fan, the warrior in the service of Fray.

"Kaor, Cormuc Fan. Going for a ride?" asked Lantran Garth pleasantly. It occurred to the big warrior that there was greater security in numbers. The Torquasian Green men were still untamed in these parts. At anytime a war party might be lurking about waiting for a chance to raid and pillage a band of foolishly available travelers.

"Yes," replied the panthan. Cormuc Fan was a laconic individual. While he didn't speak much it was also true that he was neither argumentative or critical of other men. In Lothar he had the distinction of being the only man in the service of Fray.

"We are riding out to the barbarians. To sort of see them off. Want to go along?" asked the tall warrior.

A shadow of a smile touched Cormuc Fan's lips. "Sure, why not."

It was only a matter of minutes before the three men were riding away from the city.

Stretched out in single file, the People of the Trail marched into the Barsoomian wilderness. They left behind them the novelty of the ancient city and returned to the barbarism which they had been born into. Most of them had roamed the endless tracts between the points of civilization that remained on the planet without ever having seen a man from the city before. These people, the Quarth, were as wild and free as a Barsoomian wind. In an atmosphere as slight as Mars, winds were rare, but they still existed, just as these strange nomadic warriors still existed in a world where cities were the main protection against the Green Hordes.

Out in the open areas their only protection against the Green Men of Mars was stealth and forewarning. For this purpose they placed scouts in concentric circles around the main party. It was essential that they be pre warned against an attack. Once the enemy encountered them the smaller thoats of the red barbarians were not speedy enough to out race the larger thoats of the Green Men.

With their possessions loaded on pack animals, the People of the Trail were tireless travelers. They would not take their main meal until they stopped at the end of the day. Small snacks were the custom on the trail. By the time the Heliumites left Lothar, the Quarth had traveled several miles away from the city. The Heliumites were not soon to catch the small caravan because Branh Pim's ambiguity slowed their pace. While he was anxious to see Ritta Zol again, the young psychologist also feared to speak to her. He could not forget their last meeting and how poorly it had gone. Like many of the red men of Mars, Branh Pim had a curious shyness when it came toward women. This shyness, prevalent among the higher social classes especially, was combined with the natural chivalrous nature of the red man, and from that combination there resulted a man who adored the women of his race. As he rode to meet her, Branh Pim was inclined by nature and tradition to look up at the woman on bent knee, and from this submissive position he was fearful of rejection.

But it can never be said that any red man would yield to fear for long. With the courage endowed on him by a long line of ancestral warriors, the royal psychologist's steady hand continued to guide his mount toward the woman of his dreams.

Within a half hour they met the rear scouts. After a brief questioning by these suspicious men., the three Heliumites were allowed to pursue the Quarth without interference, thought they had not traveled long before they saw a scout riding furiously toward where they believed the main caravan was waiting. There was clearly something alarming the scout for he was driving his thoat at breakneck speed, so the three Heliumites decided to follow as swiftly as they could. Their mounts were no match for the swift Quarthan thoat, but they appeared over the ridge of a small hill to see the scout ride through a dust cloud into the caravan. Here they paused to watch from a safe distance what would happen next.

The People of the Trail drove their wagons and thoats into a circle. They worked rapidly and without word. At four points outside the circle three men placed an odd pyramidal figure. It was crystalline in nature and caught the sparkle of the sun. Waves of light passed over the group and before the eyes of the three Heliumites, the People of the Trail disappeared.

"Mother Issus, where did they go?" exclaimed Lantran Garth. Where they went was unknown at that moment, but why they had disappeared became apparent as a horde of green men appeared over a distant ridge. It was a mass of raiding warriors over three times the size of the Quarth tribe. They milled about on the hill, staring at the countryside and roaring with confusion. They had expected to encounter their prey in the small valley, but instead they found nothing.

The Heliumites backed their thoats behind a large rock cropping. Fortunately the green warriors had not seen them because their eyes had been focused on the valley below.

"They must still be there. Do you think so, Branh Pim?" asked Lantran Garth. "Have we gone mad?"

The psychologist stared at the site were the caravan had disappeared. Using some techniques taught to him by Fray, Branh Pim sought out some telepathic traces of the people who had been there. He detected a glimmer of some Quarth minds.

"They're there, friend. They're invisible. So sort of scientific device, I imagine."

"So that's how they survive in the wild, out in the open, in green man territory. They hide when confronted by overwhelming forces," commented Cormuc Fan.

Down there, huddled under an invisible cloak, was Ritta Zol. She was just a trick away from destruction.

"I hope it works. There's enough Torquasian green men up there to slaughter two tribes of Quarth," said Lantran Garth.

Several of the green men were arguing. They were too far away to catch their words, though it soon became clear to the Heliumites by observing their body language that the argument was over what course of action the horde was to take. One huge brute kept pointing down to the valley, while the others believed their eyes and wanted to leave the ridge.
Branh Pim's heart leaped in his throat when he saw the brute push several of his fellow warriors aside and guide his massive mount down the hill into the unwooded dell. The psychologist wasn't certain what kind of power had rendered the Quarth invisible, but he doubted that it would have rendered them intangible as well. In moments the Loquasian would discover the Quarth, and seal the doom of Ritta Zol and her people.

The young Heliumite reacted without thought, and without reason. He pushed his thoat out into the open and hailed the green brute before the warrior had gone half way down the hill. Branh Pim rode swiftly toward the brute, hoping to intercept him before the green warrior discovered the hiding Quarth.

The brute laughed as the single red man charged him. He laughed at the stupid bravery of the little man. Then he lowered his lance and angled Branh Pim's way. The Green warriors on the hill stood by and watched without interfering. Many of them laughed cruelly at the mismatch.

Branh Pim had no lance, and to draw his pistol would have been dishonorable, so he drew his sword and hoped for the best. Behind the rock, Lantran Garth paused. He believed that if he went out to help his friend, it would break the momentary freeze on the green horde, and they would all be killed in one savage charge. For the moment it was Branh Pim's fight.

The gigantic lance point sheered past Branh Pim's head, taking his ear with it in a shower of blood.
Branh Pim ordered his mount to shove its shoulder into that of the green man's larger thoat, and leaned forward to slice at the brute's closest hand. Both of the combatants and their mounts lost their footing on the hillside and rolled down the hill to the edge of the valley. They were at least a hundred yards away from the hidden Quarth. The brute leaped to his feet and pulled his long sword. Facing him was the relatively diminutive red man; in Branh Pim's hand was his own blade.

Lantran Garth nearly leaped forward to aid his friend. He was held back by Cormuc Fan's steely grip.

"Branh Pim knows what he is doing. It is his sacrifice to make, though I fear he must kill the green man for the plan to work," muttered Cormuc Fan.

"He is no great warrior. I doubt his ability to kill the green warrior," said Lantran Garth through grinding teeth.

"Have faith," advised Cormuc Fan.

The two mismatched combatants came together in a whirl of steel. The psychologist had been trained, as all noble red men of Helium were trained, by experts and was himself an expert at wielding a blade. Skill was present, but experience was lacking. The green brute he faced was the victor of a hundred individual combats. He was bigger, stronger and more vicious than Branh Pim could ever hope to be. After only a few seconds, the psychologist was bleeding from a half dozen wounds. The brute swung ferociously at the red man's head, missed, and then lost his footing so that he had to drop to four limbs to stay on his feet. Branh Pim rushed forward, spurred by the fire for his love for Ritta Zol, and pierced the green hide that covered one of his arm pits. The green brute bellowed and smashed into the red man's right leg, breaking it, and sent Branh Pim crashing to the ground.

The young Heliumite stared a green apparition of death. The green brute rose on his hind legs and lifted his mighty long sword which he intended to cleave down on Branh Pim's skull. In a moment of clarity, the kind that often visits a fighter in a moment of respite between rounds, Branh Pim integrated himself into a single unit. The unit became an empty space that was quickly filled with an flood of red man rage against this ancient enemy. Branh Pim rose on broken and sound leg and shoved his sword up into the green man's groin. He twisted and turned the blade with all his remaining strength as he grinned up into the horrified face of the dying brute. His grin was crushed into numbing unconsciousness as the brute's pummel came crashing down on his naked head. Both combatants fell to the earth.

"Blood and Balls, what a fight," gasped Lantran Garth from his hiding place. His own sword was in his hand. In his fighting man's heart he knew that he would rush out to defend his friend's motionless body if the green horde dared to descend upon it. He glanced back at Cormuc Fan and saw the laconic man speaking into a communicator.

"Who are you talking to?" asked the giant warrior.

"Fray," replied Cormuc Fan, "he is coming with help. I fear it will not be in time if the green men decide to descend on the valley."

The two warriors watched the horde on the ridge. Loud voices brought jumbled words and laughter down the hill. The slain green man's thoat had climbed back up the hill to rejoin horde. Lantran Garth doubted that the green men would leave the possessions of their slain comrade to scavengers. Chances are at least one of the horde would come down to claim them. It was too much to hope that the green men would just leave.

Most of them did. To the green men it seemed that nothing was in the valley but two slain warriors. After a brief argument, presumably over who would claim the spoils of the duel, all the green men rode away except for two, and these two directed their mounts down the hill with the intention of claiming the possessions of the slain green man, as well as those of the red man. Lantran Garth was much happier with these odds. Saving his friend's body was no longer a matter of suicide. He edged his thoat forward with his sword in hand.

"Its not as simple as that," said Cormuc Fan, "a fight might bring the horde back."

"And the green men might skewer Branh Pim to make sure he's dead," replied the big warrior.

"That's a part of the risk inherent in his plan. Its obvious he intended to fool the green men into thinking that he was the only prey in the valley. If we go out there and fight now, it might stir enough noise that the main body of warriors come charging back. Branh Pim thought his plan was more important than his life. Can we do less?" asked Fray's man.

"Do you expect me to sit here and do nothing!"

"Trust in luck. Follow the plan. Your friend may be dead already," said Cormuc Fan calmly.

"Easy for you to say, you cold blooded calot," retorted Lantran Garth, but he remained still.

The green men stripped their fallen comrade and turned their attention to the third royal psychologist's unmoving form. There was blood from his nose and right ear; his body was apparently dead, so the green men simply took his valuables and left. They were in a hurry to catch up to the horde which was swiftly leaving them behind. It had taken only a few minutes to complete their task and leave.

The two observing red men sped to Branh Pim's body. After a close examination they determined that the psychologist was still alive.

"He's lucky," commented Cormuc Fan.

"No, I think his skull's been broken," groaned Lantran Garth.

"Hold on, Fray should be here soon with qualified help," said Cormuc Fan softly.

Shortly Fray's personal flier landed nearby. He and his wife, Gena Thal leaped out and ran to where Branh Pim lay. There was a brief examination.

"He's hurt very badly. Let's get him back to Lothar for proper medical attention," said Gena Thal, who was a doctor. She proceeded to stabilize Branh Pim's injuries with medicinal ointments and supporting apparatus.

As they carried his broken body to the flier, Lantran Garth asked Gena Thal if his friend would recover.

"If his skull is not so badly broken that his brain has been damaged," she said grimly. "I hope so, Lantran Garth."

At emergency speed Fray's flier took Branh Pim away. The two warriors gathered their thoats so that they could follow.

With the danger past, the People of the Trail reappeared. The crystalline devices that had produced their invisibility were packed away carefully. Several of the Quarth came over to the Heliumites to speak with them before they left.

"We witnessed the heroic action of your friend. We are grateful," said Damm Ver.

Lantran Garth nodded. "It would be better if your people made a swift departure. The green horde might be back." The tone of his voice was dismissing. In the big warrior's mind these rag-tag barbarians were not worth the sacrifice of his friend.

Fray's man saw a familiar face among the crowd. He dismounted and walked over to Ritta Zol.

"It was for you that Branh Pim faced the Torquasians. I recall your accusations toward him. Words of cowardice. Those words do not apply to Branh Pim," said Cormuc Fan.

"Now I see that he is no coward, but his ways are strange to me," admitted the barbarian girl.

"Yes, his mind is of a civilized order. In many ways he is as strange to his own people as he is to yours. What I want you to remember is that he loved you. If he dies, he will do so with a memory of you foremost in his heart."

Ritta Zol gasped. Her hands cupped her pretty face as she turned away from Fray's man in shame.
Her embarrassment did not last long however, as her pride lifted her head.

"As he should. I regret misjudging him. A woman can only judge a man by what she sees and believes to be true," she said.

"What will you do now?"

"What else? I am of the Trail. I go with my people. I think that Branh Pim and I are too different to be together. I'm sorry about that." She looked closely at the Heliumite as if relaying a secret message. "I'm very sorry."

Cormuc Fan nodded. As always, it was the policy of the red woman to be pursued. Still, she had made it clear that if Branh Pim survived, and chose to come after her, he would have to accept her as what she was: a child of the Trail.

"I understand," said Cormuc Fan.

She smiled, a cute smile that drained some of the sorrow from her eyes. Then she turned and ran away.

Cormuc Fan returned to the big Heliumite warrior and they rode swiftly to Lothar.

The End

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