Hero could hear voices and make out forms shifting in front of him. There was a ringing in his ears and his eyes felt heavy in their sockets. He could hear his heart beating and his own breathing as he turned his head from side to side. He could feel panic rising, then suddenly like a mist evaporating his vision became clear.

                     He sat up and realized he was on a table that someone had covered with a sheet. He rolled over onto his side and it felt as if his brain was sliding around in his head. The tent swelled with the breeze. It was filled with crates and rolled carpets and various other treasures. Sitting up a little straighter he saw an impala sitting at a folding table.

                     "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said in Impa as he approached the table.

                     Hero lifted his arm only to have it jerked to a halt. He yanked harder on it until he realized it was chained to the table.

                     "I wouldn't do that," the impala said in a measured voice. "The General won't like it."

                     "Who's the general?" Hero asked following the impala with his eyes as he circled the table.

                     The impala was about to speak when a voice was heard outside the tent. "Well here he comes now." He skipped over to Hero and removed the bandages from around his head. "Keep quiet and don't look at his scar."

                     Hero felt a chill pass through him when the perlino stallion stepped into the room. His one pale blue eye focused on Hero as he removed his peeked cap and approached the table. "Well our little cistern boy is awoken," he said. "I hope you enjoyed your little nap."He grinned.

                     Hero looked down and his heart leapt when he saw what the General had on his belt. Along with one of the daggers worn by the bandit captain he also had tied Hero's necklace. Hero could only guess what became of the captain. But the poor children...were they killed too. Had falling in the cistern ultimately spared him...for now...

                     "What is your name boy?" The General asked as he strolled the room. He turned around when Hero hadn't answered.

                     "The General just asked you a question!" the Impala fired.

                     "Hero." Hero said quickly.

                     The Impala nodded. "It's just as I thought," he said, "As if his dialect didn't give it away enough. He's definitely a Nagorin. From the Royal City I'd wager."

                     "Really?" The General beamed raising his good brow. "Then we have quit the catch." He sat down in a chair that creaked under his weight. "Then he could be useful. He rubbed his chin. "Your heritage has saved you, Hero."

                     "And it couldn't hurt to have him polish up the spoils from Nagoray." The Impala said. "He'd be extra careful not to break any of the temple artifacts."

                     "Good plan." The General said to his little stooge then looked at Hero. "What do you say?"

                     Hero looked away and the General's laughter filled the room.

                     "You'll thank me one day, Hero," he said, "I've met many who begged for their lives but it is yours I have spared even in your silence. When we reach Mount Lions you will be schooled in the tongue of the superior race and if you are lucky you will be enslaved in the Imperial City at the beckon of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Olympia. But if you persuade me otherwise dear Hero...then you will die in the Quarry of Special Purpose."

                     Hero looked down at the floor still trying to understand everything.

                     "Is that clear, Nagorin?" the Impala asked.

                     Hero looked up at the General. "Yes." He replied and the General got up from his chair.

                     "Good," he said and made his way to the exit then spoke to the impala. "Have him chained to the lead wagon over night. I want to break camp early in the morning. From here on we press hard to Mount Lions. I want to be in my own bed before the paths ices over."

                     "Yes sir." The impala said as he followed him out of the tent.

                     Hero was left alone in the tent. The plunder which surrounded him seemed to speak for the souls slain. These paintings and vases, tapestries, mirrors, jewelry, rugs dishes...these all once belonged to people. A little rag puma doll rested at the top of a pile of bowls. Its big eyes stared back at him, lonely and sad. Hero could only ponder the fate of the little girl who once owned her.

/

                     General Roman Kasper stayed true to his word. The stars were yet visible when the camp pulled out. Though the wagon pulled him forward Hero kept looking back. Something inside him told him to wait and to stop.

                     "Expecting someone?" The impala was suddenly at his side asking.

                     Hero stopped walking, ignoring the impala. He looked back across the purple tinted desert. The slack in his chain jerked straight and once again he was moving forward.

/

                     Far across the desert, far far across the desert Kiva battled a wind storm. "Heroooooo!" He shouted into the gale. "Hero!" The wind whipped his face and the sand stung it. Never ask mercy from the desert for it knows not the meaning of the word.