Free Warlord of Antares by Alan Burt Akers

to leave the women unguarded down here.”
    “You are right, of course, Nath. And you will do the honors?”
    “I will.”
    “If anything occurs,” said Seg in his light and casual way. “You start yelling and then defend them all and hack and slay until we get back, right?”
    I looked at Nath and saw him give a sudden start, as though thoroughly surprised and taken unawares. I’d no idea what could have caused that.
    “I will,” he said again, and this time in a much harsher and much shorter snap.
    The pale shapely girl with the frizzy hair walked across. With her were her companions, and their hair, too, spiked out, and I guessed that in times of stress it, too, could resemble the snake tresses of a Medusa.
    “We will search one way, man, if you search the other.”
    Most of them were half-clad. All had knives, spears or swords, and they looked a nasty bunch to argue with. Their Fuzzy-Wuzzy appearance reminded me I had no Martini-Henrys or Gardner guns to deal with them.
    “Very well.” Then I added: “I do not wish to continue to call you woman, woman. Would you favor me with your name?”
    Now names are matters of great and imperative importance upon that miraculous and marvelous world of Kregen. Many peoples employ only use names, for their own name if known to an enemy confers power to the foe. She gave me a look, a hard appraising look. Dust glinted in her hair.
    “You may call me Shalane, man.”
    “Very well, Shalane.”
    The group of Rumay fanatics went off to the right and as we trailed off in the other direction, Nath said: “They are not Battle Maidens; but many Jikai Vuvushis I have known who glory only in the uniform and the pomp and the show of being a War Woman would run screaming at the sight of them, aye, by Vox, many of them.”
    “Oh, aye,” said Seg. “A most scrapworthy bunch.”
    So we set off to explore this new world we had discovered deep underground and to encounter what new perils it might hold.

Chapter eight
    “Save your breath for breathing!”
    With our usual wary step, Seg and I walked along following the course of the river downstream. Nath remained with the women and the Rumay fanatics went upriver. We would then circle the cavern seeking egress.
    “Y’know, Seg, there has to be a reason for a place like this.”
    “You mean a place of beauty among all the horrors of the Coup Blag?”
    “Right. This is not quite the sort of cavern we’re accustomed to finding deep in the heart of a mountain.”
    “We’re well down underground here, all right. But I rather fancy this cavern is still in the mountain above the outside ground level.”
    “And that causes an idea to form, perhaps?”
    “Aye, by Vox, an idea of some fraughtness.”
    “I agree.”
    “Well, my old dom, if it is the way, it is the way. By the Veiled Froyvil! We’ve come through thinner scrapes before this!”
    So, not much caring for the idea in our heads, we went on along the river bank. Vegetation with the abundant water and never-ending light grew profusely and we saw many varieties of plants that I’d never seen before.
    The blue and white flying creatures were joined by others of multicolored feathers, and they swooped and cavorted above our heads.
    “Ah!” exclaimed Seg, and darted forward. “
Palines!
”
    I lost no time in joining him and picking the bright yellow berries and stuffing them into my mouth. Palines — ah, they are a boon Kregen confers almost anywhere you travel and they’ll keep you healthy and clear hangovers and generally make life worth living.
    The scents of this delightful place sharpened about us. We breathed in refreshingly. The nonsensical notion flitted across my mind that one could live here in perfect tranquility for the rest of one’s natural span.
    The river ran smoothly and shining under the radiance. Fish leaped. We saw no sign of aquatic predators.
    The colors and sounds and perfumes of this place delighted us. The trilling of the birds complemented the