Date: Tue, 27 Jan 2009 07:20:20 -0800
From: Tom Creekmur <tcreekmur@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Part 20

* * *

The Way Of The Heron

By C. T. Creekmur

Epilogue Two

The Return Of Hunts-by-night

* * *

     Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon
one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic
depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of
age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!

     Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in
a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or
promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned.
Especially in this day and age.

     Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal
characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is
coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be
reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the
author.

     Historical Note: This chapter begins in July of 1869. The action
begins in False Pass, but goes on to describe events in a number of other
places and times.

     And now, on with the story!

* * *

1 - JAKOB'S TALE

* * *

     "You got a minute, Doc?"

     Cy Orwins looked up from the medical book he had been reading. He was
relaxing behind the desk in his small clinic at False Pass. He smiled at
the elderly Russian man, the retired town blacksmith, who was halfway
through the door.

     Though in his sixties, Jakob Onatov was still a handsome man. The
brilliant red hair he had sported in his youth could be guessed at by the
few remaining ruddy streaks in his otherwise long white hair. And though
age was beginning to sag his muscles, the burly blacksmith's arms plainly
showed the effects of a lifetime of swinging heavy hammers.

     Cy knew from experience the strength of those arms, having made love
to Jakob on a few occasions. Like most of the men in False Pass, Cy and
Jakob followed the Way of the Heron and regularly shared their bodies with
their brother Elxa tribesmen, raising good energy to nourish the land they
lived on. And since the discovery of the Heart Call, that concept had
become an even more palpable reality to the heron men. Cy sighed quietly,
remembering Jakob's gentle, slow love, before he replied.

     "Sure, Jakob. Have a seat."

     Jakob took a moment to look behind him before he shut the door. As he
moved to take a chair he noticed Cy's curious expression.

     "I didn't want my sons to see me comin' in here," he explained. "Can
you keep this between us?"

     "Of course. You know I don't talk about anything that goes on between
my patients and myself."

     Jakob glanced at the title of the book Cy had been reading.

     "'The Human Heart'. You readin' that for my benefit?"

     "Honestly, yes. The doctor at Port Bolon recommended it and Dusty was
able to order it for me. What's up?"

     "You told me to come back if I had that pain in my chest again. Well,
I did, about half an hour ago. Luckily none of my sons were around when it
happened. I thought I was gonna faint."

     Cy frowned and got up, thinking of the pain Jakob had come to see him
about before. From what Jakob had told Cy, the pain had begun as an
uncomfortable twinge in his chest, about the time Cy had arrived in False
Pass, but had grown in intensity and frequency since then. Knowing what the
doctor would want, Jakob unbuttoned his shirt. Cy got out his stethoscope
and pressed it to the man's furry chest. He listened intently for a full
minute.

     "Was it hard to breathe while you were having this pain?" Cy asked at
length.

     "A little," Jakob admitted.

     "I have something I want you to try."

     Jakob buttoned up his shirt as Cy went to get something out of his
desk.

     "I really think you should let your sons know about your condition,
Jakob," Cy advised as he produced a small pillbox.

     "I don't wanna worry them," he responded, eyeing the object Cy held.
"What's that?"

     "The next time you have one of those pains in your chest, put one of
these pills under your tongue and hold it there. The pain ought to go away
fairly quickly."

     "Okay. Thanks."

     "Jakob, it's not a cure," Cy warned. "Your condition will get worse
until your heart fails. You need to seriously consider moving to the spirit
realm. From what we know about the place, it will start healing and
rejuvenating you as soon as you get there. The other members of the tribe
as old as you have already done so. You could live with them."

     "But what about my boys?"

     "You've been taking care of your boys all their lives. Isn't it time
you let them take care of themselves for a change?"

     "They do, Doc. They run the forge as well as I ever did and make money
so we can all eat. But I know they'd be as broken up about it as me if we
had to part company. Did I ever tell you the story of how I came to join
the Elxa?"

     "No," Cy began. He realized Jakob was trying to avoid the subject of
his health, which wasn't good, but decided to let him talk. "I've heard you
came here after the Elxa moved into the valley of the heron, but not much
more."

     "That's right." Jakob paused. "Have you heard the stories they tell of
Hunts-by-night?"

     Cy nodded. He recalled the events of the Spring just past. Among the
other wonders that occurred was the revelation that the lover of
Hunts-by-night, a man named Jack Ramsey who shared Hunts-by-night's power,
had returned and joined the spirit animals in protecting the valley of the
heron. Cy had considered asking to examine Jack, to see if there was a
scientific explanation for the amazing things the man could do, but had not
voiced his wish to anyone.

     "My story involves him and his lover, Jack Ramsey, who was a close
friend of mine. Hunts-by-night's real name was Basil." Cy's expression
changed and Jakob smiled. "You didn't think he was real, did you?"

     "Well, I've never run across any other stories about immortals with
supernatural powers."

     "Have you ever heard about vampires?"

     "Vampires?" smiled Cy. "That's a myth."

     Jakob gave Cy a look that Cy knew meant the man was deadly serious.

     "Vampires are real. Hunts-by-night was one."

     "Jack too?"

     "Yes, but not when I first met him. I loved Jack like a brother in my
younger days, when I lived at Fort Vancouver and Jack was a trapper who
came to the fort occasionally. But we were separated by circumstances
beyond our control. He became Basil's lover and after an accident that
almost killed Jack, Basil changed him somehow into a being like himself.
And it was lucky for me that he did, otherwise I wouldn't be here jawin'
with you now, Doc."

     As Jakob went on, Cy fell under the spell of his story. The years
rolled backward and the scene changed. Cy could almost see what Jakob was
describing, a storm at sea in the summer of 1833.

* * *

     Jakob could dimly remember the storm. How it had tossed the ship, a
British frigate, like a toy. And Ian, his handsome, crimson haired Scottish
gaoler, coming down into the hold to unlock his fetters, bolted to the
ship's hull. Jakob arose from his bed of stale straw, rubbed his chaffed
wrists and asked what was happening.

     "The ship can't take much more of this storm, Jakob lad." Ian
admitted. "It looks to me as if it'll be every man for himself before long.
I'm takin' a chance on you, lettin' you loose like this before the cap'n
gives me leave to do so, but I won't be havin' your death on my conscience.
Wait here and I'll be back soon."

     But Ian never came back. No sooner had the gaoler left Jakob to go up
on deck than something caused the ship to lurch violently, rolling almost
to the point of capsizing. Some of the cargo shifted and Jakob might have
been crushed had not those items closest to his makeshift gaol been
securely enveloped in cargo nets. Then a great, foaming explosion of
seawater burst down the gangway. The unexpected wave swept Jakob off his
feet and tossed him among some crates and barrels, almost rendering him
unconscious.

     Dazed, soaked to the skin and choking on salt water, Jakob fought his
way to his feet, up the gangway and onto the deck. The wind-driven rain
stung his eyes as he got a grip on a section of railing and surveyed the
damage wrought by the storm, the tattered sails, one mast broken aloft and
loose ropes that writhed and snapped like whips in the gale. The harried
sailors screamed at each other in order to be heard above the howling
tempest as they labored to save themselves. The vessel shuddered and leapt
upon a sea that seemed to boil, the whole scene of sheer chaos lit
intermittently by huge, livid bolts of lightning.

     By their vivid light Jakob could get glimpses of a rugged coastline
lashed by foaming waves. As the mountains of water impacted unceasingly
against unyielding cliffs of stone, the ominous booming noise of the
titanic impacts could just be heard above the storm. Jakob recalled Ian
saying the day before that the ship was nearing the California coast. He
caught sight of that rocky shore again as another bolt of lightning fell
and illuminated a wild confusion of wind and water.

     Caught in the teeth of the gale the proud ship was shaken like a
terrier in the jaws of a tiger. Another heave of the ship tore Jakob's
grip loose from the railing and knocked him off balance. Before he could
regain his feet, a huge wave broke across the deck, picking him up and
carrying him away into the sea.

     At first it was a struggle for Jakob just to keep his head above the
heaving waves. Then his hands found a small barrel washed from the ship. He
clung to the buoyant object desperately and, unable to do anything else, he
prayed, trying to remember the words he had learned as a boy in the great
onion domed churches of Kiev. Images of richly clad priests amid the
incense scented grandeur of their icons and holy relics filled Jakob's head
as the raging dark waters closed in around him.

     Then those memories faded out and Jakob began to contemplate the odd
calm he found himself wrapped in, so different from what he had experienced
on the sea. He opened his eyes and looked around at a strange room. From
the bare, whitewashed walls and sparse furnishings, Jakob surmised he was
in a Spanish mission.

     He turned his head towards the single window, set deeply in the adobe
wall. Bright moonlight spilled across the broad sill and onto the dark
planks of the floor. Then he became aware of a presence. Someone was
sitting in a nearby chair. Before Jakob could ask who was there, the figure
spoke.

     "Hello, Jakob."

     Jakob sat up despite his stiff, sore and protesting muscles, trying to
get a better look at his visitor. But there was not quite enough light to
see the man's face. Nevertheless, the voice sounded familiar.

     "How do you feel?"

     "Weak," Jakob answered.

     "I'm not surprised. But the brothers here tell me you ought to recover
completely from your ordeal."

     "Who are you?"

     The man struck a light and lit a candle, then moved his chair closer
to the bedside. Jakob saw a handsome metiff, a half-breed, whose native
blood showed in the features of his face and sharp, black eyes. But his
white ancestry was expressed in the red brown of his long hair and full
beard, as well as the paleness of his skin.

     "Jack," he breathed, recognizing the man, "Jack Ramsey!"

     A flood of memories came to Jakob in a flash. The time he had lived at
Fort Vancouver, working in the blacksmith's shop and spending his free time
with Jack whenever the trapper was around the fort. Jakob had come to
regard Jack as a very close and dear friend and had felt terribly for him
when he was forced to leave.

     His secret, the same one Jakob shared, that they both liked to be with
men, had been exposed. To escape the cruel whisperings of the men at the
fort, as well as the rejection of his trapping partner, Jack had left.
Jakob would have followed him if he had been free to do so, but his status
as a Russian citizen in British territory made him suspect to the
authorities and he was restricted to the fort and the immediate surrounding
area.

     In the months that followed, Jakob had come to wish he had defied
those orders and gone into the wilderness with Jack. Sometimes he had
dreams of being with Jack, and of the free life they might have built
together in the unknown lands, living and loving as they pleased. Jakob
reached out and grasped Jack's hand, unable to speak for the joy that
filled his heart.

     "I'm glad to see you too, old friend," smiled Jack, who was equally
touched.

     As he gave Jakob's hand a kiss, Jack looked up into the Russian's
face. A great ruddy bread bursting from his cheeks covered most of it,
right up to less than an inch below his eyes. Thick, bushy eyebrows shaded
two pale gray eyes and his hair, grown long while he was in captivity, was
a glorious red mane hanging loosely about his bare shoulders, getting lost
in the crimson fur that Jack knew - from experience - spread thickly across
his chest and over his back.

     "How... why are you here?" asked Jakob in wonder.

     "I wanted to make sure you were all right, Jakob. I found you on the
beach after the storm and brought you here. The brothers were good enough
to take care of you for me."

     "You found me?"

     "Yes. I just happened to have business in this area. A lucky break for
you, eh?"

     "Where am I?"

     "The mission of San Tomas."

     "San Tomas?" he repeated. "I'm not sure where... "

     "I'd say it's about a hard day's ride north of Fort Ross."

     "Oh. Did you find anyone else?"

     "From your ship? No. Only some debris washed up on the coast."

     "So I was the only survivor?"

     "It seems so."

     Feelings of regret for Ian's fate notwithstanding, Jakob breathed a
great sigh of relief and released Jack's hand, sinking back down into his
bed.

     "Don't worry," Jack reassured him. "No one here knows you're wanted
for murder."

     Jakob lurched back up in alarm.

     "How did you know that?" he hissed.

     "I just do," Jack replied calmly. "Don't worry about how."

     Jakob just stared at Jack, his mind whirling. What did Jack want? To
blackmail him? No, not Jack! That was impossible. They were too close. Or
at least they had been.

     "Jack, I swear to you, as my name is Jakob Feodorovitch Onatov, I did
not kill anyone!"

     "I know," he said quietly.

     "How can you know these things? I haven't seen you in almost two years
and now here you are, sayin' you know all about me, what I've been through
since I saw you last!"

     "I don't know everything," Jack protested. "Would you tell me your
side of it? How you came to be accused?"

     "It was that self-righteous prig of a doctor, Catsby."

     "Dr. Martin Catsby? He's been dead for the past six months."

     "Good," spat Jakob. "If there's any justice, he's roastin' in hellfire
right now."

     "I agree he wasn't the best man I've ever known, but how did he cause
your troubles?"

     "You remember how he was. Always thumpin' that bible of his,
denouncin' sin wherever he thought he detected it. The chief factor at the
fort had to put up with it because he was saddled with Catsby by the Hudson
Bay Company, not to mention that he was practically the only doctor in the
whole Oregon country!"

     "I know. I remember how we had to get permission for you to go hunting
with me, so we could go out into the woods to have our fun."

     "If only I were stronger," Jakob said, giving Jack a lustful look he
remembered well and squeezing his hand. "I would show you how happy I am to
see you again!"

     "Old friend," murmured Jack, "we have lots of time to get
reacquainted. And I have many things to tell you as well, but first, go on
with your story."

     "Well, after you left, Catsby was furious that you hadn't been
arrested and punished for your 'crimes against nature', but the chief
factor wasn't an agent of British law and told Catsby so. In anger, Catsby
began payin' informants and soon had a list of every man at the fort who
indulged in the sort of things we liked to do."

     "That must have been a rather long list."

     "It was long enough," sighed the Russian. "He couldn't do much about
the natives or most of the white men whose names were reported to him, but
when he found out about me, he began agitatin' to have me deported.

     "As I was one of the only two blacksmiths they had, the chief factor
resisted Catsby's efforts to get rid of me. I was 'necessary for the
operation of the fort' as he put it."

     "That must have pleased you."

     "It did. I've never quite fit in anywhere I've gone, so it was good to
hear someone say I was needed," Jakob sighed, "but I'll probably never hear
such praises again."

     "You will, I'm sure," said Jack confidently.

     "Thanks. But to go on with my story, when Catsby realized he couldn't
get rid of me so easily, he paid off a man at the fort to accuse me falsely
of murder."

     "Who?"

     "Francois Voux," Jakob answered bitterly.

     "He's dead also," volunteered Jack.

     "Huh! It sounds as if someone has avenged me on them both."

     Jack gave Jakob a significant look, but the Russian was not sure what
it meant and went on with his story.

     "The chief factor had no choice but to lock me up until a ship could
be found to take me to the nearest British consul, in Hawaii, for a trial.
It was a long time before a ship stopped at the fort that was bound for
those islands. Once I got there, the consul decided there wasn't enough
evidence to convict me, but for the sake of peace and quiet, he ordered me
turned over to the Russian authorities at Fort Ross in California. There
was another delay while we waited for yet another boat headed that way. At
last one showed up and that's where we were bound when the storm hit."

     "What would the Russians have done to you?"

     "It's hard to say. Depends on what sort of mood they would've been in
when I arrived," Jakob explained. "They could have sent me back to Russia,
or had me shot, or even let me go."

     "Sounds like it's a good thing you don't have to take your chances
with them."

     "So they don't know I'm here?"

     "No. The brothers here at San Tomas know nothing more about you than
your first name, which I told them. And they have better things to do than
gallop off to Fort Ross to report every stranger with a Russian sounding
name who washes up on their beach!"

     "I'm very much in your debt, Jack, and I hope I have the chance to
repay you."

     "Get better quickly so you can come back north with me, and that'll be
thanks enough."

     "Back to Fort Vancouver? That doesn't sound wise."

     "No, not there. I have a new home now."

     "Oh?"

     "Yes. Let me tell you about it."

     Over the next hour or so Jack told his friend about the Elxa,
surprising Jakob with the news that they were one and the same with the
fabulous heron men of Northwestern legend, a native tribe that was said to
be made up of men like himself and Jakob. Not only were they real, there
were even a few like minded white men attached to the group. The tribe had
recently found a new home, a mountain valley hidden in the wilds of the
southern Cascades.

     There, it was hoped the Elxa would be protected from an expected
influx of American settlers from the east. Those powers interested in
seeing America's 'Manifest Destiny' spread to the Pacific coast were
already funding orators and circulating pamphlets lauding the Oregon
country as a land of milk and honey, or, a second Eden, created especially
for the American pioneer. One such huckster, more brazen than most, went
so far as to say the lucky settlers of this new land would have but to
'tickle Oregon's fertile soil with a hoe, and she would laugh a harvest'!

     Jack and his friend, Basil, had helped lead the Elxa on a trek from
their old adobe city hidden in a canyon on the edge of La Grande Vallee to
the new land they had found. It was a secluded mountain valley of
breathtaking beauty, well watered, fertile and abounding in game. The Elxa
had named it the valley of the heron in honor of their premiere totem, the
Heron Spirit, the leader of those supernatural forces that guided and
protected the heron men.

     Jakob was impressed by what his rescuer had to say, but nonetheless he
noted the way Jack looked and sounded whenever he spoke Basil's name. It
was obvious that the men were more than just friends. Jakob managed to put
the disappointment that caused him aside for the time being and responded
to Jack's story of the Elxa with an expression of wonder.

     "Amazin'!," Jakob muttered, after Jack had finished. "You helped found
a veritable republic for men like us!"

     "Well, I wouldn't go quite that far," chuckled Jack. "The Elxa have
been able to establish themselves in their new home, but it'll take some
time before they're considered to be a sovereign tribe. You wouldn't have
anything to worry about from the Russian or British authorities if you came
to live with us there, and I'm sure my friends would be as glad as I to
have you settle there."

     "It certainly sounds like a heaven-sent opportunity."

     "Well, you rest and think about it," Jack said, glancing at the
window. "I have to go now, but I'll be back after sunset."

     Jakob looked at the window as well and saw a barely perceptible
brightening of the sky that heralded the dawn. He watched as Jack got up
and leaned over the bed to kiss him. Jakob sat up to meet him halfway,
embracing his friend warmly to let him know how happy he was to see him
again.

     "Ahem," came a noise from the doorway.

     "Ah. Hello, Pedro," Jack smiled, breaking away from Jakob to face the
friar. "I believe Jakob is feeling much better."

     "Yes, I can see that."

     "I'm sorry, er, father," managed Jakob. "We were only... "

     "He understands," Jack whispered, adding a broad wink so that Jakob
would understand as well.

     "Oh... "

     "Until tonight, my dear friend," smiled Jack as he left.

     "I hope Jack didn't keep you up all night," Pedro began, extinguishing
the candle.

     Knowing the friar had the same nature as he and Jack, Jakob studied
him. The simple, dark robelike garment he wore could not hide his masculine
charms. In fact, it clung to Pedro's form in all the right places, giving
Jakob a good idea of the broadly muscular body underneath. Pedro had a
dark, trimmed beard and his hair was tonsured in monkly fashion. His bare
feet and the backs of his hands were quite hairy, hinting at the thick pelt
that probably covered the rest of him. Pedro went on.

     "You were very weak, almost dead, when he brought you here to us,
Jakob. You need rest, and lots of it."

     "I really feel much better," Jakob responded.

     "Well, perhaps you might like to take breakfast with the other
brothers this morning," smiled Pedro, his brown eyes meeting Jakob's
easily.

     "I'd like that. When?"

     "We usually eat about an hour after sunrise. But the sun isn't up yet.
Rest and I'll come for you when it is time."

     "Good," Jakob said, settling back into the bed. "Maybe I'll see my
friend Jack there."

     "I don't think so," the friar frowned.

     "Why?"

     "Your friend Jack has, er, odd habits," he said, looking thoughtful.
"We never see him by day."

     "That's rather odd," puzzled the Russian. "Do you know what business
he has around here?"

     "No. Perhaps Jack will tell you more when he returns this evening,"
the friar said, moving towards the door.

     "Wait. How long have I been here?"

     "Three days. Jack has sat with you every night since he brought you
here, waiting for you to wake up. You and he must be... very close."

     "We were," sighed Jakob as he laid his head back into the pillow, "and
I hope we will be again."

     "From what I have observed, your prayers will surely be fulfilled,"
Pedro assured the Russian before he left.

* * *

     After a simple but filling breakfast that Jakob thoroughly enjoyed
after his involuntary fast, Pedro steered Jakob to a room especially built
so the men of the mission could keep themselves clean. A wooden vat, big
enough to hold four men, rested on a brick floor, with an ingenious system
of pipes and roof cisterns that delivered sun-warmed water for baths.
Jakob readily stripped and got in the tub while Pedro opened the spigots
and then sought out the soap while the warm water sluiced deliciously over
the Russian's furry body. When the vat was half full, the friar cut the
flow off.

     "I suppose I ought to confess to you." Pedro began as he rubbed the
pale brick of soap into a cloth, saturating it with suds. "While you were
unconscious, I had the pleasure of bathing you with damp rags, exploring
every part of your body. You are a very handsome and well endowed man,
Jakob."

     "You're a handsome man too, Pedro," Jakob sighed as he relaxed,
letting the friar begin to clean him. As the soapy cloth scrubbed and slid
across his body, Jakob murmured, "I wish I'd been awake to enjoy what you
did before, if it felt as good as this does."

     Pedro smiled as he carefully washed Jakob's face, keeping the suds out
of the man's eyes. Then he rubbed soap into the Russian's great crimson
beard and sank his fingers into it, rubbing gently. The friar sighed as he
worked and spoke.

     "Your hair is so beautiful... so long, and such a lovely color, like
some autumn leaves."

     "May I ask you a personal question, Pedro?"

     "Certainly."

     "Is it hard for you livin' in a place like this?"

     "How do you mean?"

     "Well, constantly surrounded by men whom you cannot touch, who don't
share your nature."

     Pedro chuckled softly and Jakob looked at him wonderingly.

     "Can you keep a secret, Jakob?"

     "Sure."

     "Our abbot Esteban shares our tastes for manflesh," Pedro confided.
"When he first came to San Tomas, he brought a few others like himself and
thereafter only accepted new monks who thought the same way. When he was
much younger, he'd been initiated into a secret society within the church,
centuries old, called the Order of the Holy Rod. I'm sure you can guess
which sort of 'rod' we adore when our brotherhood gathers together to
celebrate the rites!" he grinned.

     "Wow. You sound like the heron men... "

     "We've heard those myths, of a tribe of man-loving natives," Jakob
confirmed. "Our abbot was intrigued by it and has been gathering and
writing down the legends... "

     "It's not a legend," Jakob said, surprising Pedro.

     "No?!"

     "Jack is one of them, a heron man. He's invited me to come with him to
their lands, a lost valley somewhere in the southern Cascades, and become a
member of their tribe."

     "Huh! Well, in that case, I suppose I shouldn't bother trying to
convince you to stay here and join us, then."

     "But I'm not a Catholic."

     "That's alright," winked Pedro. "We don't discriminate here! If anyone
asks, you can say you are a layman, a non-religious, living among us to
enjoy our pious ways."

     Jakob smiled as he spoke up.

     "I'm not anything, come to think of it. I was raised in the Russian
Orthodox faith, of course, but it's been years since I darkened the doors
of any church. I have to admit though, if Jack wasn't offerin' me what he
has, I might have taken you up on your offer. I don't have anywhere to call
home, and this place seems very nice."

     "Perhaps, before you leave, you might like to attend one of our
meetings?"

     Jakob tried to imagine what 'rites' the brothers of the Holy Rod
conducted. The randy thoughts ignited his libido, and Pedro smiled when he
saw the physical results. Reaching down in the warm water, he stroked
Jakob's growing cock gently.

     "May I take care of this for you, my friend?"

     Jakob lifted himself so he could sit on the edge of the tub. Pedro
shucked his simple garment, revealing a pelt of body hair that suggested he
was half-animal as he climbed into the big tub and unhesitatingly swallowed
Jakob's half-hard cock. It did not stay half-hard for long. Pedro knew
exactly what to do to please a man and soon the Russian was gasping in
sheer delight as he fired gouts of his hot seed shot down the friar's
hungry throat.

     "I've wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you, Jakob," Pedro
confessed afterwards, resting his head on one red furred thigh. "I find you
so handsome... "

     "I like you too, Pedro! Lemme return the favor... "

     The friar was going to protest that Jakob might still be too weak for
such exercises, but before he could get the words out, Jakob urged him to
stand up before kneeling in the water and taking Pedro as the friar had
him. Pedro gripped the sides of the vat and gave in to the insistent
suctioning, until it pulled him off the cliff. Jakob swallowed the friar's
joyjuice and released the man only when he was soft and spent.

     "How was that?" he grinned.

     "No devotee of the Holy Rod could have done as well!" Pedro affirmed,
stroking Jakob's hair and beard lovingly. "You'll be very welcome at our
next meeting!"

     Jakob urged Pedro to sit down and began to wash the friar. The sounds
of voices made them look to the door as two more monks entered. Each pair
stared at the other for a few moments until Pedro broke the silence.

     "Ah, Amadeo, Virgilio," he smiled. "Do you wish to join us?"

     Jakob invited them also with a grin and a nod. The pair agreed and
fell to stripping. Jakob sighed, almost sorry he had already agreed to go
with Jack to the valley of the heron. He found himself hoping he would be
staying at San Tomas long enough to have a chance to partake of the 'sacred
rites' of the Order of the Holy Rod.

* * *

     That evening Jakob was pulling on his boots and frowning at the damage
the salt water had done to the leather when a light tapping sounded at his
door. He looked up to see Jack standing there and smiled a welcome at his
friend. Jakob made a brief gesture at a small bundle on the bed.

     "Not much in the way of worldly possessions, eh?" Jakob asked. "Though
on second thought I suppose I'm lucky to have anything at all, even my
life."

     "Are you planning on going somewhere?"

     "Yes, for a walk with you. I wanna stretch my legs."

     "Alright," Jack began as they left the room.

     The men made their way outside. They passed the mission's gardens,
where the air was scented by the herbs and the few rose bushes that shared
the space, and by silent agreement, towards the massive gates. Soon they
left the walled compound.

     The land around the Spanish mission was gently rolling scrubland,
except for some cultivated fields that showed themselves as darker areas
under the moon's uncertain light. Beyond those fields, the soil turned
sandy as the land fell towards the sea. They could dimly hear the pounding
of the surf somewhere ahead as Jakob spoke.

     "Jack, I'm glad you happened to be here when I needed help, but I'm
not the only one wonderin' about you, why you're here, where you go durin'
the day, things like that."

     Jack looked at his friend and frowned in thought.

     "If you don't wanna talk about it, it's okay. I suppose it's none of
my business anyway."

     "No, I can tell you. I was here at the request of a friend. She's
looking for someone who we know had been here before, someone she knew a
very long time ago... "

     Jack was silenced as they stopped at the top of a slight rise. A wide
beach lay before them, bathed in moonlight. A chilly wind blew stiffly off
the ocean, tossing their hair and stinging their eyes with its salt, so
they turned and went back a little ways, to a rogue boulder that stood
beside the path. Sitting close together on the leeward side of the broad
rock, Jack sighed, looking troubled.

     "Jakob, I could try and explain myself to you, but in order to fully
understand, I'd have to tell you another story, one I'm sure you'd find
incredible, hard to believe and perhaps frightening."

     "Like I said, I don't need to know."

     "Alright then," Jack said, pulling Jakob closer.

     Jakob nuzzled his friend's ear and whispered a randy suggestion.

     "You sure you feel up to... oh... " Jack said as Jakob took his
friend's hand and placed it on the strained crotch of his pants. "Well, I
guess this can't wait... "

     Jakob kissed Jack then, urgently, and the men gave themselves up to a
deliberate, open-eyed, mutual passion.

* * *

     "Oh, my... "

     "Are you alright Jakob?"

     "I'm better than alright Jack," he sighed. "After you left Fort
Vancouver, there were times I thought I'd never feel fulfilled again, the
way you used to... the way you do make me feel."

     "I love you too, Jakob," he smiled.

     "And Basil?" asked Jakob.

     Jack rose up on one elbow and looked down at his friend with gentle
eyes.

     "Why, him too. He doesn't own me, or I him. He won't be mad at me for
loving you, Jakob."

     "These heron men keep sounding better and better."

     "So, you wanna come meet them?"

     "Of course. The brothers of San Tomas are wonderful, but I wanna be
where you are. Besides, how could I pass up the opportunity of livin'
someplace where men like me can have respect and companionship instead of
contempt and rejection? And I can hardly wait for my tribal initiation!"

     "Ha!" snorted Jack. "Now that's the Jakob I remember. Never too tired
to stop thinking about sex!"

     "When did you wanna leave?"

     "Why," Jack began, looking intently at his friend, "there's no rush. I
want you to be fully rested and recovered before we leave here. It's not an
easy trek. We'll be going through some lonesome wilderness... "

     "It won't be lonesome to me as long as you're around," Jakob said in
all sincerity.

     "Well," smiled Jack, "as soon as you feel up to it, we'll leave."
Jack's smile faded as he looked at Jakob again.

     "What's the matter?"

     "I was thinking of the journey we'd be making. We would have to travel
only at night."

     "Why?"

     "That's something my story would explain."

     "Well, tell it to me then."

     "Let's go back to your room first," Jack said, reaching for his
clothing. "This tale will probably take the rest of the night to tell."

* * *

     With Jakob reclining on his bed, Jack sat in the chair and began to
tell him everything that had happened to him after the last time they had
seen one another, how he left Fort Vancouver and wandered aimlessly, more
or less towards the Blue Mountains. He had met Basil there, somewhere in
the vast uplands, and learned his incredible secret. Jakob's eyes went wide
with surprise when he heard it.

     "He was a what?!"

     "A vampire. You've probably never heard of... "

     "Of course I have! My grandfather told me stories of witches and
werewolves and vampires all the time while I was growin' up. And he
believed in them."

     "And you?"

     "Jack," Jakob muttered, shaking his head, "really now... "

     "When you lived in Fort Vancouver, didn't you hear the stories the
natives told about the demon known as 'Hunts-by-night'?"

     "Yes, but, those were just legends... "

     "No, they weren't. My friend Basil is the one known as Hunts-by-night.
He's lived with the Elxa for over two hundred years, protecting them from
their enemies."

     Jack forged on, even though he knew Jakob was listening with a quite a
bit of skepticism. He told his friend about Basil's story of his life, and
their journey to the Rendezvous. When he got to the battle with the rogue
Atsina band, Jakob spoke up.

     "I heard about that."

     "You did? How?"

     "While I was in Hawaii, an American ship put in with newspapers and
magazines. One of them had an article by a man whose last name was Irving.
I can't recollect his first name. Anyway, he wrote quite a colorful account
of the battle. You'll have to tell me your version of it."

     "Well, I didn't see all of it. Just the part up to when I was shot."

     "Shot!?" exclaimed Jakob. "I don't remember seein' any scars on you!
What happened?"

     "I died."

     "Very funny, Jack... "

     Jakob did not see what happened next, only the result. One moment Jack
was sitting in the chair. The next instant he was standing beside Jakob, on
the opposite side of the bed, looking down at his friend with an expression
of mild amusement.

     "Ah!!" Jakob started. "How'd you do that?"

     "The same way you might. I got up from the chair there and walked over
to here. I just did it too fast for your eyes to follow."

     "But how?"

     "I was shot and I was dying. Another vampire, a friend of Basil's,
gave me a new life, by making me a vampire, like they were."

     Jakob muttered something in Russian and crossed himself. Jack frowned
at what he saw in his friend's mind and stood his ground. Jakob repeated
his actions and Jack shook his head.

     "I'm not some demonic entity you can banish with a prayer and a pious
gesture, Jakob."

     Jakob just stared at Jack, as the realization of what his friend
really was sank in.

     "If you want me to leave, say so and I'll leave you."

     Jakob continued to stare dumbly, his thoughts in a turmoil, so Jack
turned and started for the door.

     "Well you're showing a lot of ingratitude, if I must say so."

     "Wait," Jakob managed, causing Jack to come back. "What do you want
from me?"

     "I want you to get well and come with me to live with the heron men
and be happy," Jack said. "Because I love you."

     "But you're not... "

     "Alive anymore? Or human? That didn't seem to matter to you when we
made love."

     "I didn't know that then! Dammit, Jack! What do you expect when you
spring something incredible like that on people?"

     "He's right, you know."

     Both men started when they heard the new voice. Someone, a man dressed
in a suit of crimson-dyed buckskin was suddenly sitting in the chair Jack
had vacated. Jakob blinked and rubbed his eyes, for he could scarcely
believe them.

     "Who... " he began.

     "Basil!" exclaimed Jack. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

     "And I didn't expect to find you babbling all our secrets to every man
who tickles your fancy!"

     "I'll never tell anyone what Jack told me," Jakob vowed as he stared
at the blonde stranger, the legendary Hunts-by-night, of whom Jakob had
heard. "Besides, who would believe me if I did?"

     "Well, you're right there. And I can tell you're a man of your word."
Basil looked at Jakob a little longer before turning his strangely
glittering blue eyes to Jack. "You haven't told him about Fleur."

     "Who?" asked Jakob.

     "I hadn't got to that part of the story yet." Jack looked at his
friend. He explained who Fleur was and that during the journey to
Rendezvous, they had made love several times.

     "Did you like it?" asked Jakob.

     "It was... different. Good, but different. I still prefer to be with
men though."

     "Why did you want me to know about this?"

     "Because I got Fleur pregnant. She had twin boys, my sons, whom I
named Basil and Jakob, in honor of the men I love most in the world. But
because of what I became later, I can't be a husband or a father. Do you
understand?"

     "Are you askin' me to take care of them?"

     "Well, I know you like both men and women. And Fleur needs a man who
can give her physical love."

     "And your sons need a father," Jakob added. "Of course I'll do it.
I'll love and protect your boys as if they were my own. I'll support them
as best I can."

     "There's a new town to the west of the valley of the heron, called
False Pass, that was recently begun by some of the white Elxa who want to
live in the ways they're accustomed to," began Basil. "They could probably
use a blacksmith."

     "That sounds great, but I'll need to buy tools. I survived the
shipwreck with only the clothes on my back."

     "You have more than that, my new friend," Basil smiled. "The Elxa will
welcome you into their tribe, a circle of loving brothers. We will see you
get what you need."

     "Thank you."

     "You're quite welcome, Jakob." Basil looked out the window. "I suppose
I could fly you both back to the valley of the heron tonight, if you wish."
Basil's eyes came back to Jakob as he caught the Russian's thoughts. "I
know about the brothers here. I brought this for their Abbot."

     Basil pulled a scroll of deerskin out of the pocket of his coat to
show his companions.

     "It's a message from Ikukua, the chief shaman of the Elxa. His spirit
helpers have told him about the Order of the Holy Rod. I am sure Esteban
and his monks have been invited to visit the valley of the heron."

     "I'm glad," Jakob answered, thinking longingly of Pedro and feeling a
desire to make love to the hairy monk again. Then he remembered his
thoughts were an open book to the two vampires and blushed.

     "It's alright," murmured Basil. "We don't mean to eavesdrop on others'
thoughts, but your desire is wonderful to feel. I hope you will feel that
way about me, in time." As Jakob began to imagine making love to Basil, he
stood up.

     "Gather your belongings. We'll go as soon as I deliver this and have a
few words with the Abbot."

     Jack followed Basil out the door.

     "I'm sorry about telling Jakob what I did. I thought it would be
okay."

     "It is," Basil said, hugging Jack. "But let me tell you something I've
learned from long experience. I know you just wanted to set the record
straight with your friend. But in the end, it doesn't matter what he or any
other mortal thinks of us. From now on, try not to worry yourself about
what kind of stories mortals make up about beings like us. They love their
myths. And they will never, ever, thank you for telling them the truth.
Even when the truth transforms lives in a way so positive that even the
most dull-witted can see the good in it, no one will welcome or be grateful
for truth. Trust me on this Jack, I've been around long enough to witness
virtually every possible permutation of human behavior and I know what I'm
talking about."

* * *

     Two hours or so later, Jakob felt Basil slow his flight. Jakob was
completely enveloped in a blanket to protect him against the cold wind that
buffeted them as they flew. He was sandwiched between Jack and Basil, being
held tightly.

     He felt a sensation that told him they were falling, but in a
controlled way. Suddenly, Basil touched down. Jack removed the blanket that
covered Jakob. The Russian looked around.

     They were standing at the edge of a forest. A large clearing stood
open before the men. Jakob could see a scattering of conical native lodges,
wickyups, and lean-tos set up not too far from a pool nestled in the bend
of a stream. A few native men were swimming there, their naked bodies
silvered by moonlight.

     "Isn't it a little cold for swimmin'?" asked Jakob.

     "I thought you Russians loved the cold," chuckled Jack.

     "There's a big hot spring over there," Basil pointed, indicating a
spot beyond the pool Jakob could not see. "The overflow keeps the pond
warm year around."

     "That's convenient!"

     "The valley of the heron is full of hot springs," added Jack as they
started to walk towards the camp, which Basil had told Jakob was called
Roman Rock, in his honor. As they approached an intricately decorated
lodge, the one set aside for Basil's use, a young metiff woman came out
and greeted Basil and Jack in a flurry of Quebecois.

     Jakob liked her almost at once. The four went inside, where he found a
place to put down his small pack of belongings. One of them was a gift from
Jack that Jakob could not wait to try out, a fine Hawkins rifle. He looked
forward to hunting with it, and bringing back meat and hides to support the
lodge.

     Fleur showed him her sons. Marcus, the child of her first husband, a
trader who was killed by Indians, was a little over one year old and
crawled around the teepee enthusiastically. His brothers, the twins Basil
and Jakob fathered by Jack before he became a vampire, were sleeping
peacefully, bound to their cradleboards.

     As Jack watched Jakob cuddle and play with Marcus, he knew he had done
the right thing to bring Jakob there. Basil agreed silently and suggested
they go to let him and Fleur get better acquainted. Promising to look in on
them tomorrow evening, the pair left.

     Jakob managed to divert and tire Marcus out while Fleur saw to a few
tasks she had gotten behind on. Caring for three infants was a time
consuming task for a lone woman. Luckily, the other heron men shared the
spoils of their hunts with her, and Jakob promised to keep her and her
children fed as well, gesturing at his rifle.

     When Marcus finally fell asleep, Fleur tucked him away with his
brothers and returned to sit with Jakob beside the fire in the central
hearth. Though it was late, they talked quietly for a time. Talk led to
touches, and Fleur eventually gestured to the nest of plush furs she slept
in and invited Jakob to share them.

     Jakob felt the different, soft warmth of a woman's body yield itself
to him, so unlike his male friends, whose hard and hairy bodies would meet
his with equal force, almost as if they were duelling. He enjoyed that, but
he enjoyed this too, the feeling of being the sole, dominate force, taking
what was freely given and making it his own. Before they were done, Jakob
knew Fleur was enjoying it too, making him proud of his manhood.

     Early next morning Jakob emerged from the lodge. The new sunlight
struck coppery sparks from the abundance of body hair he sported. He was
wearing only the old, cotton sailors' trousers he had been given before the
shipwreck. He frowned at the way the garment was becoming worn and
determined to go hunting soon, so Fleur could make him a pair of buckskin
pants.

     But first, he needed to wash. Going to the edge of the pool, he tested
the water with his toes. It was as warm as he had been told. Leaving his
pants on the grassy bank, he waded in and swam a bit, finding some parts of
pool quite deep. He floated on his back, and relaxed until he heard
splashing noises.

     Looking, he saw a naked native wading in. Jakob caught a glimpse of
his heavily hanging genitals before the water rose to hide them. He licked
his lips involuntarily and the newcomer swam easily up to him.

     "Good morning," he smiled. "I am Many Stars."

     "I'm Jakob."

     "Ah! You are the friend of Takonxa! He told us he was hoping you would
help Fleur look after her children, because you are a lover of both men and
women, is that so?"

     "Yes. I think Fleur and I will get along fine. And Jack told me the
heron men would make me welcome."

     "Oh, yes, handsome one," Many Stars murmured, reaching out to caress
Jakob's crimson beard.

Many eyes
will be drawn
to you...

Many sighs
will be uttered
because of you...

Many tongues
will be moved
to sing of you...

Already
Many Stars
has been drawn,
and sighed
and sang...

     "What was that?"

     "It is our way to sing when our hearts are moved, Jakob."

     Jakob did not know what to say, and Many Stars went on.

     "Have you washed?"

     "I've just been swimmin'."

     "There is soap and some rags over there," Many Stars pointed.

     Jakob looked to see a small waterfall, steaming slightly, at the point
where the overflow from the hot spring fell into the pool. The men moved
towards it by silent agreement. Taking turns, they washed each other,
leaving no parts of their bodies unexplored. The cascade of warm water
sluiced over them deliciously, washing away the suds.

     Many Stars led Jakob to the far side of the pool and spread out a
blanket. The men lay upon it and soon were grappling, seeking the pleasure
one man can give another man, achieving it, and resting easily together
afterwards. They talked, and Jakob asked where the best hunting was in the
area.

     His new friend insisted on showing him and the pair spent the rest of
that day together, following faint trails and the marks of deersign. In the
late afternoon, Jakob brought down a huge elk and even after gutting it,
the two men were scarcely able to carry the beast back to Roman Rock.

     The other heron men in the camp gladly helped relieve the pair of
their welcome burden and began to prepare a feast. Jakob presented the skin
and the best cuts to Fleur, who was impressed by Jakob's hunting skill. She
cooked a meal for him and Many Stars, with whom Jakob shared the credit for
the kill, and as the men ate, Fleur began to clean the skin, already
planning to work it into a suit for Jakob.

     Many Stars showed Jakob a traditional blessing that fathers gave their
children in the tribe he had been born into. Taking tiny bits of elk fat,
Jakob put them in the mouths of the boys he would be a father to from then
on. As he did so, he bid them to grow as big and strong as the elk who had
died to feed them.

     The men ate only enough to take the edge off their hunger. They did
not want to eat more, since they planned on attending the feast later.
Jakob spoke of Basil's suggestion about setting up a forge in False Pass
and plying his trade there as a blacksmith. Many Stars nodded, saying the
men there could use a blacksmith, but the heron men who had settled in
Roman Rock had agreed to live more simply, and had no great need for
Jakob's skills.

     Time passed and after three months, Jakob had his forge. The men of
False Pass helped him build it and a home for his family. Basil provided
his tools, buying them with ancient pieces of eight he had hoarded over
the centuries, most of them acquired during uprisings against the Spanish,
when such 'losses' would be expected. His telepathy and power of flight
made it possible for him to know where the things Jakob needed could be
found and get them quickly. Jack showed off his great strength by setting
Jakob's huge anvil in the spot the blacksmith wanted, moving the mass of
solid iron as if it weighed only a few pounds.

     The same day Jakob opened his forge for business, he discovered Fleur
was pregnant again by him. In due time another healthy, red haired son was
born, whom he named Jack in honor of his friend. By that time however,
Jack had left the valley of the heron with Basil to go and search for
Marcus, Basil's first lover, another vampire whom Basil had sought for
centuries. Somehow Basil had learned Marcus was last seen in China, a
country Basil had never visited.

     Jakob watched False Pass and his sons grow. Though he and Fleur
continued to make love, they had no more children. When the boys were big
enough, he let them help him in the forge, pumping the bellows and fetching
tools. He taught them all he knew about metal, the ways it could be heated
and forged and shaped. And when he realized they were all growing into men
who loved men, he guided them into that knowledge as well.

     He told them how they could please each other, words that were not
wasted on the boys, who all slept together in a loft and put their father's
advice to the test, experimenting on each other as often as they could. And
as they got older and bolder, they began asking their father for sex as
well. Jakob gave them what they asked for, gently showing them what mansex
was all about, and it bonded them even closer than before. When Fleur
passed away, his sons began taking turns sleeping with him, cuddling warmly
with the man whom they loved and owed so much.

     "I let them gradually take over the heavy jobs at the forge. But I
still can't resist goin' out and doin' some little jobs, especially the
fancy stuff," Jakob said, breaking the spell of storytelling he had cast
over Cy. He reached into an inside pocket of his coat. "That reminds me. I
have something for you."

     Jakob set the object on the desk. Cy's eyes widened in surprise. Thin
rods formed a long, open prism shape. Nails bent into fancy shapes were
welded along its length and spelled out 'Dr. Cyrus Orwins'.

     "I thought you'd like that for your desk."

     "Jakob!" Cy exclaimed, picking it up and scrutinizing it. "It's
beautiful! Thank you!"

     "I can think of some other ways you could thank me," he winked.

     "I'm sure you could," chuckled Cy. Then he became serious. "But if you
want to keep on playing around with me and the other heron men, in the
flesh, that is, and not in medicine dreams, then you'd better be thinking
of moving to the spirit realm, soon. Otherwise," the doctor began, pointing
emphatically to the book he had been reading, "the experts say your
condition will only get worse."

     "If I asked the tribe to hold a Heart Call, just for me, would that
heal me?"

     "I thought of that." Cy opened a drawer of his desk and took something
out. Jakob saw a roll of deerskin. "I wrote Falling Star and asked that
question. Read his answer for yourself."

     Jakob took the skin and looked at it.

     "'My brother,'" Jakob read, "'I have consulted with the spirits who
guide our tribe, as well as Ayuta and other elders of the green men. They
and I believe the Heart Call would not help in this case, because Jakob's
problems are part of the natural decline of old age. And if the Heart Call
could rejuvenate him, what then? Shall we call on the power when he ages
again? Shall we do so for every member of the tribe who would want what
amounts to earthly immortality? This cannot be done without troubling the
hearts of many, to whom it would seem an abuse of the power we have been
granted. Urge Jakob to join our elders in the spirit realm where he can
continue to live in the flesh, if that is what he wishes. I will speak with
him if you think it will help.'" Jakob paused and looked at the Elxa
shaman's signature, a tribal mark he knew well. He looked up at Cy.

     "Looks like I don't have much choice in the matter."

     Cy nodded as Jakob handed back the scroll.

     "Will you do something for me, Doc?"

     "Sure. What?"

     "Will you explain what's wrong with me to my sons? And why I have to
leave them?" Jakob's voice faltered and he dabbed at his eyes with a
bandanna. "I... I'm not sure I could do it." Cy got up and came around the
desk to hug Jakob.

     "Yes, I will. And you're not losing them, Jakob. They can visit you in
the spirit realm, you know that. And after a few years there, you ought to
be well enough to come back here for short visits."

     "You think so?" Jakob asked, standing up so he could return Cy's hug
fully.

     "If what I've heard is true, yes. You know as well as anyone the
wonders the Elxa have discovered lately. Let's go talk to your sons."

     "Right now?" Jakob whispered. Cy felt the man rubbing a familiar
heated hardness in his pants against the doctor's thigh.

     "I guess it can wait a couple of hours," replied Cy with a kiss before
he began to lead Jakob up to his rooms above the office, already looking
forward to a slow, gentle bout of mansex with the remarkable blacksmith.

* * *

2 - THE DAUGHTER OF HEAVEN

* * *

     "Hello, Hun Tzu."

     Hun Tzu had been sitting in the camp he had made in the spirit realm,
quietly watching the sunset. He had been aware of someone approaching him
from behind, but had paid little heed. There were no threats to anyone's
safety in the spirit realm.

     He turned and saw his heron brother, Jack Ramsey. He was one of Hun
Tzu's brothers who now made his home in the spirit realm. For on earth, he
was a vampire, a creature of the night who had to have human blood to
survive, but in the spirit realm, he was merely human once more, and glad
to be so.

     Another man was with Jack, a stranger to Hun Tzu. Though he knew the
man had also been a vampire, and had some connection to Jack through their
mutual friend, the legendary Hunts-by-night, Hun Tzu did not know his name.
He smiled at his heron brother.

     "Hello, Jack."

     "Hun Tzu, I'd like you to meet Marcus."

     "Hello," the brown haired and bearded man said, embracing Hun Tzu when
he rose.

     "I am glad to meet you."

     "I wanted you to meet, because I learned Marcus knows something about
your family, the Ch'a clan."

     "You do?" Hun Tzu asked in mild surprise, facing Marcus.

     "I was telling Jack about my travels while I lived on Earth and found
out I knew an ancestor of yours, a great mystic named Ch'a I Fei."

     "I remember my foster father, Ch'a Wei Fei, telling me stories about
him. I Fei was supposed to have been a high official at the Imperial court.
But Wei Fei never mentioned that I Fei knew a vampire."

     "Perhaps the tale was lost," Marcus frowned a little. "I am certain he
wrote an account of our adventure."

     "Maybe you could tell it to me," suggested Hun Tzu.

     "I'd be glad to."

     The three sat down. As the sun disappeared and twilight deepened,
Marcus turned to Jack.

     "You said you had encountered some of Hun Tzu's kin as well, when you
and Basil went to China."

     "Oh! That's right." Jack looked at Hun Tzu. "I've been meaning to tell
you about it. There's not much, but maybe you'll find it interesting."

     "Go ahead," invited Hun Tzu. Jack began to speak, conjuring an image
that was familiar to Hun Tzu, describing the city and the home he had grown
to adulthood in, but many years earlier, in the mid 1830's.

* * *

     Jack stood in the open gate of the Ch'a compound, watching with
interest the throng of evening passersby and scanning their minds randomly,
learning more about Foochow. He was robed from head to foot in the
all-concealing garb of a nomad trader from central Asia. It had proven to
be a useful costume to mask his Western identity from the mostly xenophobic
Chinese, allowing him to move more freely among the natives and learn about
them.

     Foochow was a revelation to Jack, after passing his whole life in the
sparsely populated Oregon territory. It seemed to him that all the fabled
'teeming millions' of China were to be found in this one seaport, the
capital of the coastal province of Fukien. But Jack already knew that there
were other cities in that land, dozens of them, all just as packed with
humanity as Foochow was. And the Ch'a compound itself stood in one of the
'sleepy' outer suburbs, nowhere near the bustling heart of the city!

     Another thing he learned from scanning the minds of the people of
Foochow was the surprising prevalence of men like himself in that part of
China. So ingrained was the 'nanfeng', the 'male practice' as homosexuality
was called in that time and place, that there was a form of officially
recognized same-sex marriage to legitimize male couples who chose to bond
in that way. It was so very different from what Jack had come to expect
from the 'civilized' people he had known, the British, the Americans, and
the Spanish.

     From what he had observed in his short life, there were as many men
who preferred men among the rulers of America as there were among the
Chinese of Fukien Province. But the Chinese were nowhere near as
hypocritical when it came to dealing with the man-lovers. Here there were
novels and plays celebrating nanfeng, and open acceptance of the men who
followed its ways. Indeed, Jack understood there was a body of literature
concerning man-loving men that spanned Chinese history, from the shadowy
time of the Shang, over five millennia ago, to the present Manchu dynasty.

     "Honorable sir?"

     Jack looked. He saw a servant of the Ch'a household at his elbow. The
handsome young man was resplendent in his lavender silk livery, embroidered
with the Ch'a crest in silver thread.

     "Yes, Wu?"

     "My master requests your presence."

     Jack nodded. Though Wu had spoken in Chinese, Jack understood the
servant perfectly. Thanks to his telepathic abilities, he had already
mastered the language.

     Jack reentered the compound, crossing an unusual pavement as he did
so. It was made up of slabs of malachite, the variegated stone oddly
veined and mottled with random streaks and circles of various shades of
green, from a light, creamy celery color to a green so dark it could be
mistaken for black. Jack turned his steps towards a small, but ornate
structure built near the courtyard's center, topped with the curiously
curved roof style that usually adorned Chinese temples. The building bore
an impressive title: 'The Pavilion of Gathered Refinements'.

     Trellises attached to its outer walls were overgrown with vines
bearing sweet scented, night-blooming moonflowers. Huge moths with white
wings flitted lazily from blossom to blossom, fanning their musky
fragrance, dispersing it through the night air. While they fed, their wings
meshed with the blanched petals and for a moment a new creation seemed to
hang trembling on the dark vine, then was gone.

     Jack knew Basil was waiting for him in the flower bedecked pavilion
with their host, the geomancer, Ch'a Fei Gai. The events since they had
arrived in Foochow, two days ago, ran through his mind again. The vampires
had only been in the city a couple of hours, when Fei Gai had appeared and
approached fearlessly, addressing the pair politely in English, saying he
had been waiting for them!

     For anyone other than a vampire endowed with the ability to read
minds, this would never have been believed. But they knew at once that the
old man could not only be trusted, but that he understood what manner of
beings they were. And he shared their man-loving nature as well. Intrigued,
Basil and Jack accepted his offer of hospitality.

     They followed him back to his compound, a sort of walled enclosure
that reminded Basil of the Byzantine palaces he had grown up in. A common
feature of Chinese cities, these compounds consisted of a number of
buildings linked together in a rough square, all facing an inner courtyard,
rendering the whole secure and private. Fei Gai's household servants lived
in most of these buildings. His only family was his nephew, Ch'a Wei Fei,
who was his apprentice in the art of geomancy. He would also one day become
Hun Tzu's adoptive father.

     This ancient Chinese art had allowed Fei Gai to know the vampires were
coming and predict when and where they would arrive. In the days that
followed their initial meeting, the elder had spent the greater part of his
nights with Basil, helping him plan his search for Marcus. Fei Gai had
trustworthy contacts in almost every part of China, who could provide the
pair secure shelter during the days.

     Jack entered the fragrant pavilion where Fei Gai kept his extensive
library. Many niches of polished ebony held rows of documents, some in
scroll form and others bound like western books. Basil smiled warmly at
his lover and companion in greeting as he joined them at a low,
black-lacquered table, cunningly inlaid with ivory, jade, nacre and gold
leaf.

     "Fei Gai and I have completed our traveling arrangements," Basil
began. "After I take one more look through Foochow for any leads I might
have missed, we will go south, along the coast."

     Jack agreed, and that was the beginning of their almost forty year
journey, which was greatly aided by Fei Gai's network of contacts.
Unfortunately, it proved a fruitless search and though Basil did not give
up hope, Jack at last decided to return to Oregon. As he could not fly like
Basil, he had trekked up the eastern shores of Asia, swam the narrow Bering
Strait, and then followed the west coast of North America down to his
native country.

* * *

     "So, you knew my father when he was a young man," Hun Tzu smiled as
Jack's story ended.

     "Yes. We never went back to Foochow though, which was a shame. We
might have met you there if we had."

     "We know each other now." Hun Tzu reached to take Jack's hand and
squeeze it gently. Then he turned to Marcus. "And what do you have to tell
me, my new friend?"

     Marcus smiled and began his tale. His voice was pleasant and drew his
listeners into another place, another time, almost a thousand years in the
past. Like some penny novel, Marcus' story began in a trackless desert, on
a dark, moonless night, long, long ago...

* * *

     In the year 890 of the Christian era, it was not unusual to find many
caravans wending their way between Persia and China, following the ancient
and fabled Silk Road. One caravan in particular was far inside China by
that time and soon would come to the eastern terminus of the Silk Road, the
great trading city of Sian, but for that particular night, it had halted at
an oasis somewhere in the sandy, empty vastness of the Gobi Desert. The
master of this mobile marketplace, an Arab by the name of Masouf ibn Ali,
was a man constantly busied by his many responsibilities.

     Just then Masouf was making the evening rounds of his camp, checking
to make sure the guards were alert and stationed correctly. He was paying
an emir's ransom, it seemed to him, for his caravan's protection and he was
determined to make sure he was getting his money's worth. At last, feeling
somewhat reassured about his security, he returned to his tent.

     Masouf entered his darkened pavilion and muttered a curse on his lazy
slaves. They ought to have lit at least one light by now! Lighting a straw
from a brazier of coals, he touched the flame to the spout of a brass oil
lamp.

     As the light grew, Masouf realized he was not alone in his tent. A
man, brown haired and bearded, sat cross legged on the carpet beside a low
table cluttered with scrolls and papers. Masouf muttered a curse, naming
the Mohammedan Satan.

     "Iblis!"

     "No, Masouf, not the devil," came a response in fluent Arabic. "Though
there are some who say I'm even worse than him."

     "Marcus." the Arab breathed, recognizing the voice of his strange
fellow traveler, who had shadowed his caravan from its start in Baghdad.

     Marcus had lived there in Baghdad, the brilliant and cosmopolitan
center of the Arab world, for the past few years. At that time, it was the
only city on Earth that boasted streetlights, and that was only one example
of its many advances. Marcus had made the acquaintance of a relative of
Masouf's, a refined and scholarly savant who held the position of chief
librarian at the court of the Caliph.

     Marcus shared his substantial knowledge of Greek philosophy and Roman
history with his host, who welcomed this addition to his archives with all
the joy a seeker after knowledge could feel. In return, Marcus had been
allowed free access to the vast library that served the Islamic government,
familiarizing himself with virtually all the poetry and prose of the
vigorous and expanding Islamic civilization that was preserved there. Then,
through the intercession of that relative, Marcus had arranged to attach
himself to Masouf's caravan, moved by curiosity to see the lands of central
Asia and the Far East.

     Many nights in the course of their journey, Marcus had entertained
Masouf with tales of the extravagance of the Caliph's court. Of how he had
seen the Commander of the Faithful, al-Mu'tamid himself, relaxing in a pool
filled with mercury and strewn with pillows, upon which he floated as if in
a bath of liquid silver and listened to musicians and poets performing by
moonlight. Or of the grand banquets with their profusion of gold and silver
tableware and vessels, studded with gems or engraved in cunning arabesques
or verses from the holy Ko'ran in decorative script. These priceless
treasures would be displayed upon enormous tables which groaned beneath the
weight of viands from all parts of the known world that cost nearly as much
as the containers that held the food.

     By now, Masouf was used to the way the odd Byzantine vanished at
sunrise and reappeared in the evenings. He was also used to the way Marcus
brought goods to him for sale and he eyed the large sack that lay beside
the man speculatively. Noticing his gaze, Marcus invited him to sit and
inspect its contents.

     Within the bag, Masouf found a number of weapons: daggers, knives and
gracefully curved eastern swords, all with their sheaves and belts. There
were also a couple of shirts of chain mail. He told Marcus they would fetch
a good price in Sian's marketplace.

     "Where do you keep acquiring such fine merchandise?"

     "Would you believe me if I told you I tracked down and killed the
robbers who lay in wait for you, all along your route?"

     "By Allah, I would! But then, you ought to have more than a few
weapons to show for your trouble."

     "I do," Marcus said, placing a small pouch of soft leather on the
table.

     Masouf's eyes narrowed. He opened the bag and spilled its contents
onto the table. Small bits of color glittered in the light of the lamp
like frozen fire.

     "There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet!" Masouf
breathed in pious awe, fingering the precious jewels. He selected a ruby
the size of an almond and studied it in the firelight. Though cold and
clear, it flashed the color of hot, fresh blood. "This one by itself would
ransom a sultan!" he enthused. The caravan master then managed to curb his
aroused excitement long enough to make a more practical suggestion. "If you
should need my help selling them when we each Sian, I know many dealers in
gemstones there."

     "I will consider your kind offer," Marcus nodded.

     "Of course, I would expect a nominal fee for my services," the Arab
added as he watched, glassy eyed, while Marcus rebagged the fabulous
fortune in jewels, a sight that seemed to him one straight out of the
pages of the Thousand and One Nights.

     "Of course," repeated Marcus genially. He paused to select an emerald
the size of a man's thumbnail and pushed it across the table to Masouf.
"Please take this as a token of my thanks for allowing me to accompany your
caravan."

     Masouf pulled at his beard in distraction before picking up the gem.
"I will thank my noble kinsman a hundredfold for suggesting my humble
hospitality to you!"

     Marcus just smiled as he concealed the small sack in his cloak. "And
now I must be going."

     Masouf knew it would be useless to ask where Marcus was going. So he
watched silently as the mysterious man left his tent. Then he turned back
to the weapons, which he inventoried as he replaced them in their sack.

     Unknown to Masouf, no one had actually seen Marcus leave his tent.
With his vampire speed, he moved out into the open desert faster than
mortal eyes could follow. Then he took to the air.

     Within a few minutes, he landed on the outskirts of Wuwei. It was the
next city Masouf's caravan would pass on its way to Sian. Pulling the hood
of his robe over his head, Marcus went into the city, looking like any
other wandering desert dweller.

     Technically, he was still in the Gobi desert, but the Chinese of Wuwei
had succeeded in making the land around their city bloom. Marcus admired
the well-kept fields and gardens, but it was not the delicate perfume of
flowers he followed. It was the scent of death.

     Unlike the vampires of Europe, who by and large tended to hide from
mortal sight in graveyards and catacombs, the vampires of China chose to
live in much the same manner as Marcus had in Constantinople. They owned
homes and were attended by faithful human servants. By then Marcus had
mastered the language and was used to seeing the Chinese ideograms left in
places only another vampire would espy, the warnings that declared this
city or that hamlet as the hunting grounds of a particular 'mo-kwei hsien',
a 'demon immortal'. Then would follow the usual threats of death to any
other vampire who might dare to trespass.

     But so far, Marcus had found himself to be far older than any others
of his kind he had encountered in the course of his travels. Because of
this, as had happened so often in the other lands he visited, the vampires
Marcus had met fled from him as soon as they sensed his age and power. He
remembered Vatha, crippled by an unknown catastrophe that had befallen all
their kind before Marcus' own dark rebirth, and assumed this event had
touched China as it had the rest of the world.

     So Marcus cloaked his thoughts well as he neared the outer walls of a
certain compound, unobtrusively marked with warning glyphs. Marcus was all
silent attention, a shadow that lies among others, unnoticed, a skill he
had learned long ago. As he waited, he could hear three of his kind
stirring within the compound, making the small, dry sounds that the dead
make, and other dead recognize at once.

     And their thoughts! So surprisingly mundane, concerned with keeping up
their pretense at mortality. Overseeing the books their trusted mortal
slaves kept, making sure their land taxes were paid and arranging for
repairs to be made on the leaky roof over the northern apartments!

     And above all, the thirst. They were all fledglings, the oldest
scarcely a hundred years along on his personal voyage through eternal life,
and they were all eager to go out and hunt. Marcus melted deeper into the
shadows of a neighboring building, waiting for them to emerge.

     He chose to follow the eldest, named Cho. Marcus flitted noiselessly
after Cho through the dark and narrow streets of Wuwei. Cho quickly found a
victim in the poor section of the city and as he drank, lost in the relief
of his unslakable thirst, Marcus took what he wanted from the distracted
vampire's unguarded thoughts.

     The one who had made Cho. A name and the city he lived in, far to the
south. Marcus noted it well and prepared to take his leave in the same
unobtrusive manner.

     'Who are you!?'

     The telepathic query turned Marcus back. The Chinese vampire was
looking daggers at him, over the dead body of his victim. Cho was also
trying to read Marcus' mind, but failing. Marcus could feel the other's
thoughts pressing hard up against the defenses he had raised.

     "No harm meant to you." Marcus spoke those words in an even, almost
apologetic manner, too quietly for mortal ears to perceive. "I am going now
and will not return."

     Marcus levitated from where he stood slowly. Then, from Cho, Marcus
felt rage abruptly transform into intense fear. Evidently, Cho had never
seen another vampire fly.

     No. That was wrong. The unexpected action had triggered a flood of
memories in the Wuwei vampire, which Marcus caught in a twinkling moment of
time.

     Marcus saw this vampire when he was newly made. Cho was following his
maker as he was taught how to use his newborn power. As they passed through
a darkened alley, the elder vampire had shrunk back in fear, pressing
himself and his fledgling into the shadows as another shadow passed by in
the sky above.

     For a fraction of an instant, Cho had glimpsed a woman flying above
them. Her fluttering, filmy garments, pierced easily by the silvery
moonlight, fully revealed the outlines of her desirable body, every
voluptuous, feminine curve. All were sharply silhouetted against the disk
of a gibbous moon as she flew past.

     'Be still! Do not think!' Cho's maker hissed in a voice almost too low
for vampire ears. 'Never let her see you!'

     'Who... '

     'She is Kuei T'ien, the Daughter of Heaven! She is a vampire like us,
but she is so old that she commands vast and mighty powers. In all of
China, only she can fly! And if she wishes, she can cast fire at you with a
mere thought, consuming you utterly! Avoid her, and you will live... '

     There was more, that Cho learned later. Kuei T'ien lived in a unique
temple by the sea in Foochow, a pagoda built of jade and green glass, where
she was worshipped as an all-powerful goddess by an evil sect of powerful
magicians, although why she allowed these mortals to consort with her was
unknown. Her powers of flight gave her access to all of China, which she
oversaw like a private estate, destroying with her mental fire any of her
kind she encountered whose powers were a threat to her.

     By the time it took to review all these images in his mind, Marcus was
far from Wuwei. When he saw Masouf's caravan in the distance, he landed on
a hill close by, to pause and consider what he had seen. A lizard,
disturbed by his presence, scuttled past his feet and he looked at it,
wondering what the Wuwei vampire had meant when his maker mentioned the
ability to 'cast fire', a trick Marcus had never heard of.

     Even as he thought of it, Marcus could feel something uncoiling from
his mind, reaching out to strike the unlucky reptile like a whip. The small
animal suddenly burst open as the water in its body boiled away in an
instant. Then what was left burned like dry wood and was consumed in
moments, leaving a spot of greasy ashes on the sand.

     Before sunrise, Marcus had tested this new ability until he was sure
he could summon it at will and control it precisely. As he sought for a
refuge against the coming day, he decided that despite his new power he
would have to become more cautious. When he encountered Kuei T'ien, for he
was sure he would, sooner or later, he would have to make sure the meeting
was on his terms.

* * *

     At last the caravan came to Sian, the eastern terminus of the Silk
Road. As soon as he could, Masouf left to meet with his factors in the
city, some of whom were Arabs like himself, who had chosen to live and
raise their families there. There was a quarter of the city set aside for
the foreigners' use, ceded to them by the Chinese, who appreciated the
trade they brought, but not the traders' alien ways.

     Thus the walled quarter was crowded with Muslims, Jews, Nestorian
Christians, Zoroastrians and even a few Hindus and Japanese. It was a
forced familiarity to be sure, but it was harmonious for the most part, in
a way unheard of in the West, where groups so different were normally at
each other's throats constantly. But business was business, after all, and
the lure of profit trumped, as it always did, in every time and place,
religious and ethnic zeal.

     Sometime after sunset, Marcus also arrived in Sian and was soon
wending his way through the narrow streets of the foreign quarter. Finding
the bazaar of the gem-sellers, he scanned the minds of the proprietors
until he found an honest merchant. Then Marcus sold a couple of his jewels.

     He studied the money he had received from the jewel merchant in open
curiosity. Each of the thick, shiny disks had a square hole punched in its
center, allowing a set number of them to be strung together in a standard
unit of cash. Concealing the strings of gold coins in pockets within his
nomad's robes, Marcus turned to leave. He intended to explore the city and
in the process find a safe place he could use to pass the days as long as
he stayed there. The gold he possessed would help purchase such a safe
haven if it were necessary.

     But Marcus paused when he realized a mortal had been studying him from
across the bazaar. In a moment he scanned the man's mind, and was surprised
by what he found there. As Marcus approached, the man bowed politely to the
curious vampire and spoke.

     "Honorable sir, my home is nearby. Would you give it the joy of your
presence?"

     "Your name is I Fei, of the Ch'a clan," Marcus said, coming closer to
the man. He noted the lack of fear in I Fei as he did so. "You are a master
of geomancy. Your craft has told you what I am and where you could find
me."

     "Correct," returned the man. "And I also know you are in danger. I
believe I can help you."

     "And why would you wish to do that?"

     "Because we have the same enemy."

     "How could I have enemies?" Marcus protested. "I've only just arrived
in China. No one even knows I'm here."

     "She will know, sooner or later," I Fei said. Marcus knew at once who
I Fei meant. The man made a gesture to caution Marcus. "Try not to think of
her. She will sense it in your thoughts if you do and be able to find you."

     "I know the power of minds like mine and hers. And I know how to
shield my thoughts. But... "

     "Please come to the safety of my home. I will explain all there."

     Following I Fei, Marcus was led from the bazaars of Sian to the city's
more upscale quarter. Armed servants guarded the gate of I Fei's compound
and hastened to open it to their master and his guest. Soon thereafter,
Marcus followed I Fei into one of the sumptuous chambers of his home, which
he decided must be the man's library.

     A vast collection of writings lay nestled neatly in ornately carved
shelves of ivory, standing against walls paneled with strips of fragrant
camphorwood. The vampire looked longingly at I Fei's library. He wondered
if he would have the chance to read any of this impressive collection of
literature, the product of a civilization that appeared to be the oldest on
Earth.

     Already Marcus had caught enough stray thoughts from the people of
Sian to tell him much about their country. It seemed China was so old, and
had recorded so much, that its sages, having comprehended the cyclical
nature of human events, had come to definite conclusions about how
everything should be done in order to achieve peaceful and harmonious
lives for the greatest number of Chinese. These rituals, apparently
meaningless to outsiders, kept the people in touch with their respective
places in society and the duties each place demanded.

     War, for example, they eschewed, and not from cowardice or lack of
ability. Like many other subjects, the Chinese had long ago learned all
there was to know about tactics and warfare. But they also knew of war's
ultimate futility, how victors in time are always conquered in their turn.
All that knowledge was crystallized in a book by a general named Sun Tsu,
written some five hundred years before the birth of Christ. Marcus saw a
copy of that book, The Art of War, resting in one of the ivory niches and
looked forward to reading it.

     I Fei had gone to an odd three-legged table in the midst of the room.
Marcus admired the workmanship that must have gone into its making. It was
triangular in shape, lacquered a deep violet, and its legs were fashioned
from some sort of white stone, alabaster or moonstone, perhaps. These
latter had been sculpted in the images of muscular daemons, who appeared
to strain and sweat under some vast weight as they supported the table.

     Marcus watched as his host carefully arranged several fist-sized
crystals in a specific way on the surface of that unique table. They were
natural stones of rock crystal, amethyst and others, unworked but still
showing all the pellucid perfection of highly organized matter. There
seemed to be no recognizable pattern in their placement, but as I Fei
worked, he murmured to himself. His words seemed partly an incantation and
partly a song as he shifted the crystals, as if he were playing a rather
odd game of chess with himself. Then, suddenly, he stopped and looked up at
his visitor.

     "We can talk freely now. My craft has set up a screen around this room
that Kuei T'ien cannot read through."

     "What do you mean... "

     Marcus' voice trailed off and he looked about himself suspiciously. He
had tried to read the minds of I Fei's servants whom he knew were outside,
but got nothing. The walls of the chamber had indeed somehow become opaque
to his telepathy, which meant Kuei T'ien would not be able to hear the
thoughts of those within, either.

     "I see," he admitted to I Fei. "You are a formidable magician."

     "It is a science I have had the fortune to master," he demurred
modestly as he gestured easily at the table before him. "These crystals,
arraigned in discrete patterns, can generate fields of subtle energy. In
this particular configuration, they interfere with the mental abilities
that you vampires possess."

     "So you know what I am."

     "Yes. And such a one is she, the daemonic and misnamed Kuei T'ien. But
you are the first of your kind with a power equal to hers to come into our
land for centuries. With your help, I can vanquish her and free China from
the threat she poses to our empire."

     "I have learned she oppresses her own kind, killing any whose powers
might rival hers, but what has she to do with mortal affairs?"

     "Do you know of her connection to the Black Lotus Sect, a fraternity
of dark magicians?"

     "I did not know their name, but yes."

     "My emperor, Chao Tsung, has entrusted me with the task of ridding our
empire of these evil magi. But with the power of Kuei T'ien protecting
them, well, they are virtually untouchable by their fellow mortals."

     "Why does she help them?"

     "I have only lately learned why. The power Kuei T'ien wields is no
longer enough for her. She wants to rule all China directly and, scheming
with the archmagi of the Black Lotus, she believes she has discovered a
way to gain vastly more power, enough to dominate the peoples of my nation
just as she now dominates her fellow vampires."

     "How?"

     "All we know is that it somehow involves this same science," I Fei
said, gesturing again at the crystals arrayed on his table. "The wizards
of the Black Lotus have been busy throughout China, buying or stealing
crystals like these. Their temple in Foochow is by now filled with them,
and the gods themselves only know what they intend to do with so much
power. Those cultists whom we have managed to capture for questioning
commit suicide by a means we do not understand nor can prevent, so they
cannot be tortured into revealing what they know."

     "So this... whatever it is they plan to do... it hasn't yet been
attempted?"

     "If it had, all China might now be groaning under Kuei T'ien's yoke,
and the leading members of the Black Lotus would be ruling the various
provinces as governors in the name of an immortal demon empress. For if
their plan works as envisioned, Kuei T'ien will become a dark goddess, too
powerful for anyone to oppose. And it isn't just China that would suffer,
but eventually the rest of the world as well, for ambition such as hers
can never be content until she has it all. With your help, I believe I can
stop her."

     "You are lucky I am not like most of the vampires at large in the
world, who refuse to have anything to do with mortal affairs. Tell me your
plan, I Fei."

* * *

     A little less than a month later, Marcus stood upon a roof within a
compound in Foochow, gazing across the city. I Fei and his imperial agents
had procured the former home of a wealthy merchant as a base of operations.
From his perch the vampire could see the infamous Po T'a, the Glass Pagoda,
where Kuei T'ien and the Black Lotus Sect plotted the domination of China,
and perhaps, the world.

     The common people of Foochow though had their own name for the
building, which reflected their suspicions of what went on inside it. To
them it was the Miao Pi, the Temple of Evil Practices. Lit from within by
innumerable lamps, it seemed to Marcus that the jade and green glass tower
burned luridly, looming over the city like a pillar of otherworldly flame.

     He frowned as his telepathy drew blanks. It appeared that the Po T'a
was shielded in a manner similar to that I Fei knew of. Marcus was sure
Kuei T'ien was there nonetheless, if I Fei's informants were right, and
his hand went to a sword buckled at his hip.

     Feeling he was ready to face Kuei T'ien in her own lair, Marcus leapt
down into the courtyard and entered the house. I Fei's occult crystals had
been set up there as well, making it proof against Kuei T'ien's
eavesdropping. I Fei looked up at Marcus expectantly from where he sat.

     "I cannot tell if she is there," the vampire began, "but if your
intelligence was accurate, we dare not delay."

     I Fei nodded as he arose. His sources all told basically the same
story, of a great gathering of the devotees of the Black Lotus Cult. He
could not help but conclude that they were about to attempt the rite that
the sect hoped would give Kuei T'ien limitless power.

     "Then we go now."

     I Fei took a lantern and descended a staircase that led deep under the
compound, followed by four retainers whom he had personally trained. Marcus
brought up the rear, straining all his senses to their utmost as they
entered a long tunnel that led to the pagoda. The ancient stonework was
encrusted with irregular patches of unearthly, phosphorescent mold and the
air was heavy with the scent of the not-too-distant sea.

     Marcus considered the things I Fei had told him about the tunnel as
they followed it. It was far older than the pagoda it led to, for the
foundations of the Black Lotus Sect's temple predated China itself. From
what he had read in the west, Marcus guessed that it had something to do
with the legend of an ancient, worldwide empire, centered on a island
metropolis that had sunk into the Atlantic Ocean many thousands of years
ago.

     But that particular moment was not the one to be distracted by obscure
legends of lost empires. I Fei and his followers were counting on Marcus to
protect them once they were inside the temple. Then he noticed the men
ahead of him had stopped.

     They were pausing before a bronze door, its oddly patterned surface
slick with green, waxy verdigris. It had apparently not been used for a
very long time. The stonework that anchored it to the tunnel walls was
obviously different, built at some later date, but just as heavy and solid.
Marcus moved to the front of the group when I Fei beckoned.

     "I believe there may be guards on the other side," he whispered.

     Marcus sent his thoughts ahead of him. The barrier to his mental
perceptions seemed weaker here and he wondered why. Then, as if through a
sort of psychic fog, he felt another mind.

     There was a single guard on the other side of the door. Taking what
the man knew of the temple's security arraignments from his mind, Marcus
considered how he was going to break the lock and kill the guard without
alerting his fellows. Then he paused as he read the thoughts that were
uppermost in the man's mind.

     The guard was unusually excited, preoccupied by what he knew of the
great doings going on in the pagoda high above him. He was a lowly neophyte
in the cult of the Black Lotus, yearning for the power he knew was being
exercised by his superiors who dwelt in the heights of the translucent
temple. His knowledge of the cult's activities was limited, but he knew
quite enough to alarm Marcus.

     Just as they had feared, Kuei T'ien and the hierarchy of the Black
Lotus Sect were ready to begin their rite, perhaps had already begun it.
Marcus passed this information along to his ally. I Fei was fairly sure
the energy field would mask their approach, despite the odd weakness in
it Marcus had detected at that location.

     "There is a great danger though," I Fei whispered. "If we get too
close to the nexus of the field, the crystals that generate it, she will
sense our presence immediately."

     "I've had a great deal of practice at screening my thoughts," Marcus
returned. "If you all stay close to me, I might be able to screen you as
well."

     Turning back to the door, Marcus planted a suggestion in the cultist's
mind. Soon the sound of a key turning in the lock caused the vampire's
accomplices to flatten themselves against the tunnel wall. The hinges,
unused to movement, squealed plaintively in the darkness as the door inched
open. The guard had to put his shoulder to the long disused portal and push
with all his might.

     It was just what Marcus wanted. Grasping the handle from his side, he
jerked the stubborn door open in a display of his great strength. The
surprised guard fell into the vampire's clutches and Marcus drained him,
silently and quickly.

     "Are there are any more guards on this level?" I Fei whispered as his
followers removed the guard's body.

     "I'll check."

     Marcus looked beyond the open door and probed with his mind. To his
surprise, the field of energy that had blocked his telepathy seemed to fade
suddenly and give way. When I Fei saw the vampire's expression change, he
hissed.

     "What's wrong?"

     "Wait!" Marcus hissed back, trying to locate another mind. "Something
is happening!"

     As the minds of the other Black Lotus cultists became open to him,
Marcus scanned through them quickly, stretching his vampire senses upward
until he found an elder of the sect who was involved with the rite I Fei so
feared. Through his eyes, Marcus saw a great chamber within the pagoda,
glinting every shade of green by the light of innumerable torches. Crystals
of all shapes and sizes were arraigned on the floor in a complex mandala,
meant to generate many fields of subtle energies, nested one inside the
other, the outer ones amplifying the ones within them. Black cloaked
sorcerers circled and chanted outside the construct. In its center, within
the nexus of the rite, stood a naked woman, Kuei T'ien!

     On her upper arms and around her thighs were tied long, broad, white
silk ribbons. Mystic characters had been painted on them with blood, gory
charms of some sort to aid in the ritual. The forces generated by the
crystals were causing the ribbons to ripple and snap in the air around
Kuei T'ien, as if a strong breeze were blowing, and her dark, shining hair
was being stirred in a similar manner. But Marcus could see no evidence of
a wind elsewhere in the chamber. The candles and torches set up in the
space burned steadily, showing the air around them was calm.

     From the mind of the magus he was seeing all this through, Marcus
learned the secret of the rite. The simplicity of the idea it was based
upon surprised him. All vampires knew that their powers increased as they
aged, so the solution to Kuei T'ien's problem was time!

     The energies evoked from the crystal mandalas were warping time,
speeding it up at the spot where Kuei T'ien stood. As Marcus watched, the
silken charms bound to her body frayed and rotted and vanished as centuries
began to pass by in mere seconds for her. Her skin grew paler and he could
feel her power growing.

     Marcus knew he could not hope to fight her and win now. She had become
able to crush him or any other vampire easily in a contest. But still, it
was not enough for her.

     Her skin began to glow and become translucent as an odd light pervaded
her body. Enraptured by the transformation, Kuei T'ien's mind was focused
on the power that grew and grew, and ignored the effect that power was
having on her physical body. As the light grew, emanating apparently from
her heart, Marcus could see her form shading from matter into energy, and
instantly wondered where that energy would go when there was no longer a
body for it to be housed in... Breaking his mental connection to the magus,
Marcus backed away from the open door.

     "Run!" he hissed to his companions.

     The mortals obeyed him at once as a low rumbling, almost too low for
human ears to hear, began to echo down the tunnel from behind them. The
intensity of the rumbling quickly increased, becoming a distinct vibration
that could be plainly felt beneath the men's feet as they fled back to I
Fei's base. Marcus covered their retreat, uncertain what was going to
happen, but fearing a catastrophe.

     They managed to regain their starting point safely. While the others
sought shelter, I Fei scrambled to follow Marcus up onto the roof. The
allies looked across the skyline of Foochow to see a fantastic sight. The
Po T'a was giving off an irregular, shimmering light, while the singular
vibrations they had felt below ground sounded clearly in the open air above
as a sharp, crystalline note, quickly intensifying, and becoming painful to
mortal ears.

     I Fei clapped his hands to the sides of his head in a vain attempt to
stop it. The horrible vibration seemed to be conducted not just through the
air, but through the Earth and everything that stood on it. Marcus could
feel the fabric of the house beneath him starting to crumble as the
vibration reached a shrieking crescendo, shaking not just I Fei's base, but
the entire city like an earthquake.

     His telepathy no longer daunted, Marcus probed the temple and saw the
result he had feared. Most of the mortals within were dead, slain by their
close proximity to Kuei T'ien, whose body lost the last of its material
form. For a split second, raw energy writhed and pulsed where she had
stood. Then it expanded explosively.

     The Po T'a gave one last screaming shimmer in the night before it
utterly disintegrated in a titanic detonation, sending tiny shards of jade
and glass flying in all directions. Marcus grabbed I Fei and hustled his
companion to shelter as the remnants of the pagoda descended to pound on
the rooftiles. It was over in a few minutes, leaving sparkling drifts of
coarse green sandy grit to encumber roofs, streets and courtyards all over
Foochow.

     "I doubt China will ever be troubled by Kuei T'ien again," Marcus
observed to I Fei, after he related what he had seen through the power of
his telepathy. "And now I can go back to my anonymous wanderings, to see
the rest of your vast country."

     But I Fei was able to convince Marcus to stay with him. Through I
Fei's contacts in the Imperial Court, Marcus gained access to the state
archives, an awesome mass of writings collected over the course of tens
of centuries of eastern civilization. Even with his vampyric abilities,
it took Marcus many years to go though so vast a compilation of documents.

     In the meantime China underwent another of its periodic changes of
dynasties, as the T'ang regime faltered and rebellions arose throughout the
country. Marcus protected the Ch'a clan during this turbulent time and as a
result, I Fei and his sons survived to serve another emperor, T'ai Tsu, the
first of the Liao dynasty.

     "Once I had finished my studies in the Imperial library," Marcus said,
winding down his tale, "I bid I Fei, by then an old man, farewell and
resumed my wanderings through China. In the course of my travels, I
encountered a Buddhist monastery where the monks, all man lovers, lived
together in much the same way as the heron men do.

     "They called their discipline 'the path of the hidden snake'. I
decided to stay nearby to study them, and found a cave in the hills
overlooking the monastery to hide in. One day sometime later, while I was
resting in the dark recesses of the cavern, a man came into my lair and
began speaking to me familiarly.

     "Despite my initial surprise, I knew he understood what I was and that
he meant me no harm, for my mind always remained wide awake during the days
despite the sluggishness of my body. He was one of the green men, sent to
Earth to bring an elder monk over to the spirit realm before he died. He
had sensed my presence and power, felt that I was a man lover like him, and
came to make contact. It was not long afterwards that I myself was invited
to come to this world, and I have never thought about going back. Until
recently."

     "Oh?" Hun Tzu wondered.

     "Marcus and I," began Jack, "have been discussing the possibility of
going off to search for Basil. I'm fairly sure he's still somewhere in
China. And we don't want to leave him there searching in vain for Marcus."

     "It's been so long since Jack saw Basil that we're not sure where to
begin the search," added Marcus. "And my knowledge of China is nearly a
thousand years out of date." Marcus paused a moment, then went on. "Jack
tells me you are a geomancer, like I Fei."

     "I have had the good fortune to master that science. I would be glad
to use my skill to help you find Basil, if you wish."

     "That would be marvelous," Marcus sighed in relief. "Jack feared we
might be condemning ourselves to another decades long search, like the one
he made with Basil in search of me."

     "It might take some time, but nowhere near as long as that," assured
Hun Tzu. "By opening trees to various parts of China, I could take readings
with my lo-pan in many areas, in a relatively short time. If luck is with
us, and Basil had not left China, I ought to be able to track his personal
energy down easily."

     "We will be ready to go with you and protect you when you do," said
Jack, as Marcus nodded in agreement. "From what I saw during my time there,
the Manchu Dynasty is losing control of China. Warlords and gangs of
brigands are taking over in various places, and the legitimate government
is too weak and inept to stop them. And then there are the foreign powers
who would have taken over long ago, except that they can't agree among
themselves how to divide up such a rich country equally."

     "I have no doubt of what you saw. I grew up there." Hun Tzu muttered
sadly. He shook his head. "Danger or no, finding our lost brother is most
important. I will let you know when I am ready, after I have spoken with
Mayati and Falling Star. My lover must know about these plans, and our
shaman might have insights or suggestions that would affect our search."

     "That's a good suggestion," Marcus agreed. He knew by then that
Falling Star was a powerful mystic in his own right.

     "Perhaps," Hun Tzu went on, thoughtfully, "we ought to begin our
search at this monastery Marcus spoke of. I would not be surprised if
Basil had also found it and lingered nearby."

     "That sounds reasonable." Jack nodded.

     "Then we will meet again soon, my friends," nodded Hun Tzu as he
arose. "I will return to my home at Heron Ranch and begin preparations."

* * *

3 - THE SEARCH

* * *

     In the far west of Szechuan, where the mountains rise and merge into
those of Tibet, a monastery had stood for many centuries, sheltering a
group called themselves followers of the path of the hidden snake. From
several vantage points it commanded a view of a cultivated valley and a
city that were nearly as old as it was. These were favored places for the
inmates of that spiritual refuge to go and meditate.

     On this day, one middle-aged monk sat alone at one such secluded
nook. It was a small open pavilion perched on the very edge of an outcrop
of weathered granite. Behind it, beyond the point where the naked rock
rose out of the earth, a thick stand of bamboo grew. The tall plants made
it seem as if the pavilion were suspended between the rustling greenery
and the empty air beyond. The last light of a florid sunset caressed the
pavilion's interior, imparting to every surface a slight rosy hue.

     A web of fine chains suspended an elaborately wrought oil lamp from
the center of the pavilion. The brass fixture was fashioned in the form
of a rampant flying dragon which belched a bright flame from its open
mouth, providing illumination as the sun slid behind the great mountains
that loomed toward the west. By its light, the monk, Zhu, was studying a
scroll unfurled on a low table set before him where he sat on the floor.

     The document was of silk and very old, yellowed with age. But the
words were older, written during the T'ang Dynasty by another man who
shared Zhu's special nature. Time was annihilated as Zhu moved a
delicately carved ivory pointer beneath the words as he read, allowing
one manlover to speak to another across the centuries that separated them.

+Fond of the moon
+we view side by side
+until weariness calls us
+to our shared bed

+O robust friend
+manly and tender
+your arms hold me close
+all through the night

+The joy you gave me
+that moonlit night
+will last a lifetime
+and far, far beyond...

     The monk sat back and sighed. "T'o... " he whispered as his breath
escaped, involuntarily speaking the name of the man who moved his heart as
profoundly as the poet's had been moved by another. Zhu had fallen in love
with his aged teacher and mentor, and the pair had spent many happy years
together. Then T'o had passed on, but not in the way most mortals did. From
time out of mind, Zhu's monastery had been visited by mortals who knew a
great secret, the way to a realm of unending life reserved by the gods for
men who love men, a place Zhu and his brothers called Ren Ai Kwo, the
country of manlove.

     Like many before him, T'o had been taken to that finer world when the
infirmities of age began to tell upon him, so he would never taste death,
and, as Zhu had been told, would grow young and vital again. Someday, it
was certain Zhu would join T'o there. He sighed, thinking of the long years
that must pass before he was old enough to follow his lover hence.

     The harsh tang of smoke tickled Zhu's nose as he inhaled. The monk
got up and went to the railing that had been carved to look like a series
of intertwining snakes. He looked down from his pavilion and saw black
vapors rising from the distant walled city that stood among the fields
that patterned the valley floor in varicolored squares, all deepening in
twilight shadow. Zhu frowned.

     Word had been brought of the revolt centered further to the east,
involving a rogue general who sought to make himself king of an independent
Szechuan. The local magistrate, a loyal Manchu, had in Zhu's opinion acted
incredibly rashly by openly defying the usurper. Thus, he had drawn a
contingent of the rebel army upon his defenseless prefecture, bringing all
the horrors of civil war with them.

     A rustling in the bamboo thicket brought Zhu around. He thought not
only of the rebels, but also of reports he had heard of Tibetan bandits
in the area, taking advantage of the chaos in China. He suspiciously eyed
the lush greenery around him, which was capable of concealing the approach
of a sizable number of people. Even before the revolt, the authority of
the empire had been waning and as law and order broke down, even the
sanctity of a monastery no longer defended it against violation.

     Zhu was relieved when he saw an unarmed man appear on the path to the
pavilion, but wondered what a stranger was doing there. He was about to
advance and greet the man when the monk spotted two others coming behind
him. Zhu stared in astonishment: they were Westerners!

     He looked at the first man again and noted his blue eyes and the light
brown full beard he sported despite his youth, the marks of a half-breed
Chinese. Unlike many of his fellows Zhu felt no hatred of the man for that.
There were many like the newcomer among his fellow monks, driven forth from
a society that hated them, to the safety of the monastery.

     "Ah," one of the Westerners began, speaking fluent Chinese, "here is a
monk. He can introduce us to the head of the order." The brown haired and
bearded man looked at Zhu and went on. "My name is Marcus. These are my
brothers, Jack and Hun Tzu. We are men of your nature, from the place you
call Ren Ai Kwo. We wish to meet with your master."

     "Of course," Zhu replied. He was surprised by the man's words, but not
unduly so. Part of the training the men of his order received was to always
be prepared to encounter the inhabitants of Ren Ai Kwo, who were of all
races and tended to appear and disappear unpredictably. "Forgive me for
asking, but do you know of my lover, T'o? He was taken to your world three
years ago."

     "Yes, I do," Marcus smiled. "He is well... "

     "What is it?" asked Zhu as Marcus' smile faded and he looked back the
way he had come.

     "Hun Tzu, get behind us," Jack warned as Marcus was distracted by
something apparent only to Jack and himself. No sooner had Hun Tzu joined
Zhu in the pavilion than a dozen men emerged from the surrounding forest of
bamboo. They were quite a ragtag crew, clad in various types and degrees of
armor and carrying a similar miscellany of weapons. A few held torches. The
groups stared at each other a few moments before the leader of the
newcomers spoke.

     "By the empress' tits! Foreign devils!"

     "Rebel soldiers," Jack said for Hun Tzu and Zhu's benefit. "They
intend to loot the monastery."

     "If you know that, you should also know we are sworn to kill all
foreigners we find! I, T'ak the Mighty, have this very day personally
killed two of the Christian missionaries who scorn our ways and corrupt
our youth! I thoroughly enjoyed it, just as I shall enjoy killing you!
And we will continue to kill until no western devil breathes sacred
Chinese air!"

     "'A thousand mice do not equal one tiger'," Marcus replied calmly to
T'ak's bellicose speech, repeating an old Chinese saying. "And here are two
tigers," he said, indicating Jack and himself. "Leave the monastery now
without harming anyone, and we will let you live."

     "Arrogant round-eye!" spat T'ak. "You will beg for death before I
grant it! Kill all of them except for that one!" the mercenary leader
ordered his minions, as he pointed at Marcus. "I will personally execute
him with the death of a thousand cuts!"

     Before the gang could take a step, both Jack and Marcus vanished. T'ak
exclaimed and turned to his lieutenant, but T'e was gone as well. One of
the rebel soldiers spoke from behind.

     "Where is Hsu?" he asked, naming another of the group who had
disappeared.

     T'ak was on the verge of ordering his men to spread out and look for
the foreigners when he felt something strike his face. He reached to feel
some sort of slippery fluid that wetted his cheek. It was dark in the
torchlight and the smell was familiar, shockingly so.

     "Blood?! Where... "

     As T'ak looked up he found his answer. He was appalled to see Marcus a
score of feet above him, suspended in midair, biting the throat of T'e,
whose struggles against his attacker were futile. As Marcus took the last
of the bandit's blood, he flung his body down on top of T'ak.

     In the time it took for T'ak to push the dying T'e off him and get up,
Jack had returned. Moving almost too fast to see, he broke one soldier's
neck, took his sword and decapitated three more before T'ak was able to
fire an arrow at him. Pivoting as he skewered another of the gang, Jack
touched the missile and guided it into the chest of another, piercing his
heart.

     Before T'ak could draw another arrow, the last of his men died. Marcus
swooped and grabbed the bandit, who had gone from T'ak the terrible to T'ak
the terrified. Ignoring T'ak's useless pleas for mercy, pleas T'ak himself
had often heard from his victims but never heeded, Marcus scanned his mind.
Learning all he needed, he broke the rebel leader's neck and tossed his
body among those of his men.

     "T'ak knew of no other rebel units nearby," he said, turning towards
his mortal companions. Zhu looked appalled by what he had witnessed and
Hun Tzu was reassuring him of his friends' good will towards Zhu's brother
monks. Once the monk was calmer, Marcus went on. "But Jack and I will scout
the area thoroughly to make sure before we leave."

     "Where is Jack?" asked Zhu, finding his tongue.

     Marcus glanced about him. When his face registered puzzlement, Hun Tzu
produced his lo-pan. Manipulating it quickly, he too looked concerned as he
read the signs.

     "What is it?"

     "Jack is now with Basil!" he replied.

     "How?!" asked Marcus.

     "He was taken," Hun Tzu muttered, studying the lo-pan, "by a means I
cannot identify. It seems they are in no danger for the present. But there
is something else."

     "What?"

     "I am reading more vampires where Basil and Jack are... " Hun Tzu
looked up from his lo-pan and into Marcus' eyes. "They are all very
old - and very powerful."

     "The fallen ones?" breathed Marcus. "Together in one place?"

     "It appears so," the geomancer replied, scrutinizing his lo-pan again.

     "Tell me where he is," Marcus demanded. "We will go to him at once. My
apologies," he said, turning to Zhu. "But we must go."

     "Of course. Go and save your brother."

+* * *

     Moments after Jack had slain the last of his opponents, the world had
inexplicably dissolved around him and reformed as someplace else. He had
time for a thrill of shock as he recognized his lover, Basil, and the
ancient vampire, the Councilor, who had made Jack a vampire. In that
split-second the Councilor's mind overwhelmed his and Jack found himself
helplessly caught in a stream of memories not his own. Time rolled backward
and he saw a unit of Roman legionnaires trudging wearily through a
trackless, moss-covered forest.

     The woods were infernally damp, with mists roiling between the boles
of huge trees. Water fairly drooled from every leaf, like a multitude of
green tongues. As he watched the soldiers slogging along through this wet
wilderness, Jack became aware that he was watching a portion of a great
army engaged in a punitive expedition against the German tribes who
constantly harassed Rome's northern frontier.

     It happened without warning. Suddenly the forest was alive with fur
clad and axe wielding blonde warriors, shouting their bloodcurdling battle
cries at the top of their lungs. The Romans, taken totally by surprise,
fell like ripe wheat before the scythe of Teutonic steel. Rolling over the
unit, the barbarians vanished back into their forests, seeking more Romans
to kill.

     Jack's attention was focused on a knot of Romans who had fallen as
they fought together. He gasped as he recognized one of the bodies in the
pile. Then a movement nearby distracted him. Jack saw a woman emerge from
the woods and stroll among the bodies, studying them. He saw at once that
she was another vampire. When she came to the man Jack recognized, she
knelt beside him.

     "Marcus Artorian Casperix... " she cooed gently over the unconscious
man.

     "What have you found, my dear?" another vampire asked.

     Jack stared in mounting shock as he recognized the speaker. Though
Jack had never met him, he knew his face from memories Basil and the
Councilor had shared with him. It was the one called the rogue, long
sought for by his fellow vampires for the great crime he had committed,
the mass slaying of most of his kind who had lived on earth centuries ago.
The rogue's eyes were strange, like the Councilor's, furnished with lineal
pupils crossed like an X. Jack looked at the woman again and saw her eyes
were normal.

     "A survivor," she answered. "A man who may suit our purpose."

     "Yes," the rogue agreed as he also scanned Marcus' mind. "He will do.
Heal him, and then I shall take us home."

     The woman stripped Marcus of his clothing and armor, then took a sword
from the grasp of a dead soldier and sliced her arm open. She allowed the
blood to pour out over the wounds that had brought Marcus to the edge of
death. The effect was like magic as the damage was undone and the man's
body restored to whole.

     The scene shifted abruptly and Jack saw the interior of a rich villa.
Marcus awoke with a start, sitting up in the bed he had been laid in. It
was night and a single lamp burned fitfully nearby. The confused man got
up and went out onto a balcony that was separated from the room by a few
slender stone pillars and hangings of sheer silk that moved with the warm
evening breeze.

     Marcus went to the marble balustrade. Leaning on it, he looked out
over a calm, moonlit bay uncomprehendingly. With a start, he ran his hands
over his naked body, seeking wounds that he remembered, but were no longer
there. Low, feminine laughter brought him around.

     "No, Marcus, you are not dreaming."

     Marcus stared at the woman who had spoken. He could tell at once she
was a noble, by the silk dress she wore. Such a garment was worth many
times its weight in gold and only the women related to the Emperor or
wealthy senators could afford it. It shimmered in the moonlight and
whispered with every movement she made. It was also nearly transparent and
did nothing to obscure the wearer's charms.

     "My... my lady," he faltered, "where... "

     "You are in my villa, on the coast of southern Gaul," she purred,
coming to stand beside Marcus at the balustrade. "I brought you here to
be my overseer, to run it for me."

     "But, I am a soldier... "

     "That life is over, Marcus. I found you dying in the Teutoburg Wood
and saved you. Now you will serve me in all that I require, for as long as
I say."

     "The forest... I remember now! My unit was overwhelmed, but surely not
all of the legion! It is my duty to stay with them. I'm not a deserter... "

     "I know. You are not. Listen to me, Marcus, your legion no longer
exists. Your overconfident general, Quinctilius Varus, led it and two
others right into a barbarian trap. Only a handful survived the slaughter,
and they live on as slaves to German masters. As far as anyone knows, you
are dead. And you would be, if not for me."

     "How did you save me? And bring me here?" Marcus looked out at the bay
again. It had taken him weeks to travel from his home in northern Italy to
the encampment of his legion on the Rhine.

     Ignoring the questions, she turned and Marcus caught the heady scene
of her fair, perfumed hair, silvered by the moonlight. "Don't you want to
stay with me?"

     "My lady... I... " Marcus stammered as he tried to comprehend what he
had just been told.

     "My name is Cornelia," she cooed, taking his hand and raising it to
her cheek. On the way, she deliberately allowed Marcus' hand to graze one
of her full breasts. "Would it be so hard to serve me after serving Rome?"

     "Oh, my lady, if what you say is true... "

     "It is," she began, "and I can give you other proofs of it. But not
tonight."

     "Then... I am willing to serve you... "

     "But?"

     Marcus took his hand away from Cornelia's face and stepped back as he
replied.

     "Forgive me, my lady, but there is one service I cannot do for you."

     "In my bed, you mean?"

     Marcus nodded.

     "Are you... incapable of the act of love?"

     "My lady, I have never had the desire to go with women."

     "Ah, you are a lover of men."

     "Yes."

     Cornelia smiled. "I knew that before I brought you here. It was why I
chose you. You see, Marcus, the man you are replacing, my former overseer,
became overly enamored of me. It made him... unreliable."

     "How do you know these things?"

     "Because I can read mortal minds, among other abilities."

     As Cornelia said that, she vanished. Marcus started and looked about
himself, but could see no one. Cornelia's voice sounded again and he looked
toward the source. She was standing about thirty feet above him, on a
narrow ledge atop the line of pillars that separated the balcony from the
bedroom.

     "Some believe me a goddess, others a sorceress, but for all my power,
Roman Law looks upon me as a weak woman and requires me and my property to
be under the control of a man." Cornelia informed a shocked Marcus. "I have
such a protector, a being like myself, only vastly more powerful. You will
address him as 'Master' if he chooses to reveal himself to you, which is
unlikely. I will give you your orders and if you have questions, you will
address them to me. Do you understand?"

     "Yes, my lady."

     "Yes," she said, scanning Marcus' mind in a way that allowed him to
feel her doing it, "I believe you will be loyal. But to make sure, let me
give you a glimpse of the punishment I meted out to your predecessor."

     Marcus was instantly overwhelmed by sensations and memories not his
own. He was somehow with another man and felt what he felt as he was
chained and dragged from the presence of his beloved mistress. It was not
long before he endured rape at the hands of the slavers, who joked that he
would soon be too foul for such fun. They turned him over to a Roman
captain who needed rowers for his galley. And Marcus shuddered at the
stroke of the slavemaster's whip as the naked man toiled endlessly over an
oar, amid the stench and filth of a multitude of lost souls whose labors
would end only when their lives did.

     "I can also be generous," Cornelia said, jumping down easily to join
Marcus and leading him back inside the room. "Loyalty to me and the Master
will be greatly rewarded. Hermann. Edwy. Come in."

     Two youths in their late teens entered through a door Marcus had not
noticed before. One was of the German race Marcus had so recently fought,
with pale blonde hair. The other looked to be from the isle of Britain,
for his hair had the bright redness those people were known for. Both
looked expectantly at Marcus, who felt desire for the pair rising in him
as he returned their gaze.

     "These two are yours, Marcus, to aid you in... whatever you need
done." Cornelia turned to the pair. "Take your master to the bath. Treat
him well."

     "Yes, my lady," answered Hermann.

     "Will you come with us, master?" Edwy asked.

     Marcus was led to the villa's bath. An important room in any Roman
dwelling, the chamber was lavish, even by the empire's standards. Curious
mosiacs covered the floors, showing a group of nymphs and satyrs dancing.
They ringed a central pool of heated water. Marcus stepped into the
waist-deep water and turned to see his attendants doffing their chitons.

     The pair entered the pool. As they washed him, Marcus returned the
caresses, which became progressively more erotic. Then, for Jack, the
scene wavered and once again he was back, standing before the Councilor
and Basil. Jack at once fell into Basil's arms.

     "My love," Basil murmured, "it's so very good to see you again."

     "Basil, I've found Marcus. He's... "

     "I know. He'll be here soon."

     "What did I see?"

     "I showed you Marcus' beginning," the Councilor began. "He served
Cornelia well for the better part of two decades, until a plague swept
through southern Gaul. Marcus would have perished like so many others
then, but Cornelia had become fond of him. As he lay on his deathbed, she
made Marcus a vampire, much to the annoyance of the rogue. He did not
punish her, but sent Marcus away, warning him never to return to Gaul.
Marcus spent centuries exploring the rest of the empire before settling
in Constantinople, where he met Basil and they had their encounter with
Vatha."

     "Why have you shown me these things?"

     "Yes, why, Councilor T'eth?" a new voice began. The trio looked to
see another vampire, a man who possessed eyes like hers. The X-shaped
pupils widened and narrowed as he scrutinized Jack.

     "They deserve to know the truth, especially now, at the point where
one journey ends and another begins." The Councilor murmured cryptically.
"Basil, Jack, this is Captain Z'ill."

     "You know we have no time for this."

     "'Time must always be made for truth'," she said as if quoting some
saying unknown to Basil or Jack. Captain Z'ill seemed to recognize it
though. He heaved a sigh.

     "Very well. Just try to remember that time is short."

     "How much longer?"

     "The Chief Engineer says fifty cycles, perhaps less."

     "I understand."

     "Why did he call you T'eth?" Jack asked.

     "It is my name. I will explain later. Ah," she paused and turned.
"Here are your friends."

     For the first time, Jack realized he was in a cavern. From one of
several openings that led out of the chamber he, Basil and T'eth stood in,
Marcus emerged, followed by Hun Tzu. It was an emotional reunion for Basil.
While he and Marcus exchanged centuries of experiences telepathically, Hun
Tzu explained to Jack how he and Marcus both had heard and seen all he had
about Marcus' past as they flew to find Jack.

     "You are the Councilor I've heard so much about," began Hun Tzu as he
addressed the female vampire. "Or should we call you T'eth now?"

     "Either will do. 'Councilor T'eth' is a title I have not used in
millenia, but it is time for me to reassume it."

     "What is happening?" Marcus asked, turning from Basil.

     "Come. There is much to see, and little time left to see it."

     "Where are we?" Jack queried as the Councilor led them into another
tunnel.

     "Deep inside a mountain," Marcus answered, "located in a trackless and
uninhabited part of Tibet. Somehow, you were taken directly here... "

     "Teleportation, we call it," interupted T'eth. "One of many tools
my people use."

     "Your people?"

     "As you may have guessed from the appearance of my eyes, I am not
human. But neither am I an angelic being fallen from the heaven of
Judaeo-Christian mythology. I was born mortal, on another world, far from
here. It is called Phaa and my folk refer to themselves as the Phaalin."

     "Another world? But how did you come to earth?" asked Marcus.

     "Look," T'eth answered.

     The heron men were silenced by the sight that met their eyes as they
reached the end of the tunnel. It opened onto an enormous cavern, brightly
lit by globes of brilliant light suspended from the roof. The light made
it plain to see that the rock had been excavated deliberately, leaving
smooth floors and walls. Also bathed in this illumination was a vast object
that had an organic look, somewhat reminicient of a gigantic whelk shell
with multicolored spines that spiraled out from its twisted top.

     "What is it?"

     "It is our ship, Hun Tzu," T'eth replied as they continued towards it.
"Her name is L'yra. We are explorers, seeking knowledge as we journey
through space, visiting other worlds. Nearly ten thousand of your years
ago, we encountered a spatial anomaly... "

     "A what?"

     "One of the many dangers of deep space. Someday your race will leave
earth and learn what we have. Anyway, the anomaly seriously damaged our
ship and we had to land on the first planet we could find that was like
Phaa... "

     "Earth," finished Basil.

     "Yes. We created this cavern for L'yra to rest in while she
healed... "

     The heron men did a double take at the ship.

     "It's alive?" Jack exclaimed.

     "I feel it now," nodded Marcus. "It's... her thoughts... so
different."

     "L'yra was badly wounded," T'eth murmured as she reached out and
stroked the side of the ship.

     The heron men did likewise and wondered. What appeared to be L'yra's
outer shell was not hard and cold like a seashell, but had warmth and the
pliabilty of something like hardened leather. Even Hun Tzu, with his merely
human senses, could feel the pulse and rush of L'yra's blood flowing
beneath the finely haired surface.

     "She is fully healed now?"

     "Yes, Hun Tzu. Now, after all these centuries, my fellow Phaalin and
I can go home."

     "But before that," a new voice began, bringing the group around,
"there are things we must do."

     "The rogue!" Basil started.

     "Master... " whispered Marcus, seeing him with the eyes of memory, as
a Roman lord.

     "This is Judge H'aph," T'eth introduced. H'aph frowned at the group.

     "There is little time, T'eth. Telling these earthlings our history
will not spare them from the cleansing."

     "They deserve to know everything before we leave their world."

     "What is the cleansing?" asked Jack. H'aph turned to him.

     "I shall tell you, in less time than T'eth would take. When we first
arrived on earth, we allowed L'yra to alter our bodies so that we could
survive in your world - don't ask how, your science is too primitive to
begin to understand the process. But L'yra's injuries affected the
treatments, rendering them less than desirable. We survived, but became
what your legends call vampires. And in time we found that humans could
be infected by our blood and also become vampires.

     "Two and a half millenia ago, I made a judgement," H'aph paused to
glare at T'eth "as was my right. There were too many formerly human
vampires on earth. Their presence was affecting the progress of human
civilization, and not in a positive way. Cultures were not developing
systems of justice and law, and why should they when they had vampires
to read minds, separate the guilty from the innocent, and punish the
guilty? It is one of our highest laws, not to interfere with developing
cultures, but our actions were having that effect. So I performed the
first cleansing, despite the objections of some of my crewmates."

     Marcus grasped the implications of H'aph's words first. H'aph nodded
at him.

     "You all know of the supposed 'crime' I committed; to me it was my
duty, upholding Phaalin law. T'eth was delegated to watch me from then on,
so I would not repeat my action. Four decades ago she tried to get Basil
and Jack involved in her guard duties, but I prevented that."

     Basil nodded, recalling how H'aph had let him know where Marcus had
last been seen, sending him and Jack off on a fruitless search throughout
China. And spoiling T'eth's plans for the Elxa vampires.

     "Now that we are about to leave your planet, T'eth can no longer argue
against me or restrain my actions. Phaalin technology inadvertantly created
vamprism and contaminated your world. It would be irresponsible of us not
to clean up after ourselves. Before we go, all traces of our presence here,
including vampirism, must be wiped out."

     "You're going to do it again... " Marcus breathed.

     "In less than fifty hours, the second and final cleansing will begin.
All formerly human vampires will be destroyed. And L'yra shall return the
Phaalin crew to its normal, mortal state."

     "What of Cornelia? I thought you loved her. Will you kill her too?"

     "I am a Phaalin Judge. I must uphold the law no matter what my
personal feelings are. I will see to it that the second cleansing is quick
and thorough. There will be no suffering survivors like Vatha." H'aph
glared at T'eth again. "And there would have been none the first time if
you had not stopped the process prematurely!"

     H'aph turned his back on the stunned group and went away. They looked
to T'eth. She shook her head.

     "I can't stop it. No one can. The process that made us what we are
will be reversed. The Phaalin will return to normal, but the humans will
die, burned from within as the billion of tiny Phaalin machines that flow
in their blood disintergrate."

     "Tiny machines?" asked Jack.

     "Your people will someday learn how to build with atoms as we do.
Uncounted billions of these devices swarm in our blood, keeping us from
aging and dying... "

     "But they were defective machines," nodded Marcus.

     "Yes, making us vampires." T'eth tapped one of the metallic
wristbands she wore. "L'yra, how long until liftoff?"

     "Forty nine point eight nine cycles," a feminine voice crooned.

     "More than enough time," T'eth muttered to herself before going on in
a louder voice. "Five to beam to last coordinates."

     "Energizing."

     As L'yra complied, T'eth and the heron men dissolved into waves of
sparkling energy and were almost instantly reconstituted on the grounds
of the monastery of those who followed the path of the hidden snake. T'eth
turned to her companions.

     "Go now, back to your spirit realm. You will be safe there from the
effects of the cleansing."

     "You know of the spirit realm?"

     "Yes, but H'aph does not. You must survive."

     "Why?"

     "Why would I care about you? Because there is another law we Phaalin
honor, that truth must be defended. You know the truth now about how
vampires came to be, the result of a malfunction of an alien device, and
you must live to let others know." T'eth paused. "You are also good men,
you have not misused your power. I trust you not to create more like
yourselves and cause the problems H'aph feared. Go now and live."

     "What of Cornelia?" asked Marcus.

     "Or the green man?" Basil added. "Or those I created while I lived in
Constantinople? Do they still survive? And is there any hope for them if
they do?"

     "I can only do so much," T'eth demurred, "but I will do what I can."

     "We have two days," Marcus told his fellows as they returned to the
huge pine that served as a portal to the spirit realm. "This is what I
plan to do... "

+* * *

     No sooner had the sun set in London than a certain old tree glowed
on the estate called Lionsgate and six heron men came out of it. Marcus,
Basil and Jack took off at once into the city. The others went to the
nearby mansion and rang the bell. The servant who opened the door stared
in mingled surprise and delight.

     "Master Philip! You've come back!"

     "Hello Peter. Is my uncle at home?"

     "No sir, he is at Swansgrave Manor."

     "Oh, well, I shall be staying for only a short time." Phil glanced
at Hun Tzu and Eben. "Shall we relax in the library while we wait?"

     "Are you expecting visitors?" asked Peter.

     "Yes, but you need not concern yourself about them. I shall see to
it."

     Besides Philip and Leo, a few more of those whom Basil had known
long ago in Constantinople had survived and continued to live in the area
of London. After explaining the danger they were in, Hun Tzu treated them
so that they could enter the spirit realm and be protected. It was not as
many as Basil had hoped for and as dawn approached, he retreated to safety,
wishing he could do more.

     It was full day in that part of China where the monastery of those
who followed the path of the hidden snake stood. So Hun Tzu and those
heron men who could be there saw an unbelievable sight when the time came
for the Phaalin to depart. A great flash of light to the westward told of
the disintergation of the cavern L'yra had laid in for millennia, the
conversion of billions of tons of rock to pure energy to fuel the ship and
broadcast a deadly signal.

     Throughout the world, all traces of Phaalin technology were
eradicated. And this time, as Judge H'aph had promised, it was thorough.
Those vampires who returned to earth after the Phaalin were gone found
themselves a tiny remnant of a unique culture that had been present behind
the shadows of the human world almost since its beginning. Most of them,
like Marcus, were content to be human again and stay in the spirit realm.
Those few who wished to remain on earth promised to make no more of their
kind. But only time would tell if such promises could be kept.

* * *

THE END

* * *

of The Return Of Hunts-by-night

the second epilogue to the series

'The Way Of The Heron'

by C. T. Creekmur

comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com

Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur

"All Rights Reserved"

submitted to www.nifty.org 1/27/2009

this is the last of the heron stories for now
I hope you have enjoyed them