"No, save the bullets. Use the knife."

Fortunato twisted the knife hilt free, and now he held a glowing blade.

"We'll have to time this just right..."

The music outside grew louder. Swirling and capering, the scarred and mud-haired high priest moved around the girl and jabbed at her with a blade chipped from black glass. The others moved back to let their leader dance, hypnotized by his move­ments. He was fairly foaming at the mouth now, scuttling from side to side like a rabid crab. He drew a knifeline of blood on his own stomach, then writhed forward, rubbing his belly against the girl's and smearing her with blood.

Griffin couldn't see the captive's face from this angle, but he could see her body stiffen and jerk away. The high priest grinned lasciviously and did it again, more slowly, and this time her wail of misery rose quaveringly above the throb of the drums. He raised the knife high, and- "Now!" Dark Star hissed. Fortunato's hand flickered in a short

arc as he mimed throwing the blade. A glitter of silver flashed from his hand to the priest's throat. The priest gagged, hands

flying to his neck, and blood drooled from between writhing lips.

"Bullseye!" Fortunato shrieked delightedly. Before the word was out of his mouth Griffin was out of the doorway and streaking to the side of the captive. There was a brief moment when their eyes met, and the gratitude and awe in her face were glorious. Fortunato was at his side in the next instant, and they faced the charge side by side as Dark Star untied the girl's bonds.

The first man in thrust a spear with a glowing point at Griffin. The Thief sidestepped, grasped the haft firmly, and twisted. The man somersaulted and landed on his back. The second man in got the glowing point in the stomach and collapsed, howling. A quick glance at Fortunato showed that he had acquired another glowing blade and was holding two natives at bay.

Dark Star had the girl loose. She thrust her to the center of a protective triangle formed by the three Thieves. Two men rushed her. One went down before Dark Star's knife. She sidestepped the other's wild swing. He sprawled to the ground, and she finished him from behind.

Suddenly the mass of natives pulled back into a ring, and sev­eral spears were raised to casting height. As they prepared to throw, there was a marrow-rending screech from the rear. The na­tives turned en masse to meet the new threat, but it was clear from the first that they were unequal to the task.

For Mary-em had arrived. The little woman charged like a ber­serker, her glowing halberd tilted before her. Her leather armor was caked with dirt and her face was grubby and scratched, but the gleam in her eyes was effervescent. A dozen warriors and wiz­ards charged behind her.

Gina's power staff whined and piped its song; lightning leapt from the tip as she played and danced amid the slaughter. Panthe­silea wielded her sword with stunning speed, fighting her way to Fortunato's side swiftly, pursing a kiss at him before turning to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the fray.

The natives fought to the death, every one of them. Spears, knives, and corded muscles glistened in the torchlight as the battle raged.

Oliver the Frank moved in a cautious circle around his oppo­nent, native spear matched to glowing broadsword. The spear's lu. ininous tip grazed his stomach as Oliver twisted aside, thrusting his own weapon in the next instant. The native's spear jerked up, and Oliver had to acknowledge a deflection. The two men with-

drew to the ready position, attention focussed totally on each other. Oliver faked high and went for the knees. As the native warrior tried to block he overreached and Oliver looped the blade up and into the ribs. Howling, his foe went down holding his stomach.

The battle was almost over, natives lying dead and broken ev­erywhere. Suddenly the Lore Master yelled for their attention. He pointed to the roof of the church.

Lurching along its edge, knife projecting from the hollow of his throat, tottered the priest. His eyes were glassy, and half-dried blood shown on his chest as he looked down at them.

His lips twitched back from his teeth in a ghastly caricature of a smile, eyes alight with a hatred stronger than death. He opened his mouth, and gurgling whispers bubbled forth.

"Back, everyone!" Chester screamed unnecessarily. They re­treated from a patch of air shimmering in the square. "Get the girl and let's get out of here!" Chester yelled, but by that time it was far too late: the shimmering patch cut the girl off from everyone but Eames and Leigh, who stood over her alertly.

"What do you think, Chester?" Gina asked, panting.

"Reveal Barrier!" he yelled. A bolt of green flashed from his hand into the glowing area and dissolved it.

"Illusion! It was a stall-"

The jungle behind them shook with the sound of branches snap­ping and popping. The ground shook with an ominous rhythm, and Eames swept the girl into his arms, carrying her to the center of the Garners. They formed a ragged half-circle facing the jungle, and waited.

There was a collective gasp as the thing lumbered out of the trees into the clearing. It was huge, the size of the church building, with a snakelike head attached to a grayish, roughly spherical body. It had dozens of short stubby legs that moved more like cilia than jointed appendages, and carried it toward the Garners with frightening speed. The mouth was strange, shocking. It was no bigger than a man's mouth. It was lost on that vast face.

Chester watched its approach cautiously. He saw the thing glide up to one of the fallen natives. Its mouth expanded like an awakening Morning Glory, exposing gums lined with row after row of small sharp teeth. It hunched over the body and slurped it in halfway, and chewed.

Chester backed away. ‘We don't want any part of that thing. Let's clear out of here."

Fortunato called, "Chester?" and waved the heavy revolver he was carrying.

"Try it," Chester commanded. "The rest of you, get going!"

The Gamers began an orderly retreat. The creature finished the native and glanced up. Its mouth pursed hungrily. It followed, fast.

Fortunato/McWhirter stood braced with his legs apart, arms stiff, both hands wrapped around the gun butt. He fired twice, quickly, and paused to observe the effect.

Two small pucker marks on its smooth front were not bleeding; in fact, they were closing. It hadn't slowed at all.

Tony fired again, more carefully, aiming for its eyes and mouth. He fired until the gun was empty, then ran like a Thief, with the creature too close behind him.

The orderly retreat became a rout. Kasan Maibang led them to a path through the bush wide enough to travel double-file, and the wave of Garners stretched out into a line. Tony McWhirter's sprint had cost him; he was exhausted. He ran like he was about to fall over at every step.

Chester ran with Maibang. "What is that monstrosity?"

The little guide's reply was wheezed between clenched teeth. "It is called a Nibek. Our enemies called it to avenge themselves."

The Lore Master looked back. The trees weren't slowing it. Timber was smashed into bits by every shrug of that massive body, and still it gained, a disturbingly human snarl decorating the tiny mouth.

"Damn it!" a voice screamed from the rear. He looked again, and saw who it was, at the tail of the column: Mary-em, her legs too short for real speed. Another few seconds and the tiny mouth would expand to swallow her- "Leave her," Maibang said urgently. "In the time it takes to eat her, we can be far up the trail-"

"I should feed you to that goddam thing," Chester raged. "She's mine, damn you, and that Nibek can't have what's mine without a fight." He pivoted and raised his arms. "Hear me, 0 Gods-" The green glow surrounded his body, and when he yelled the sound was like roaring thunder. "Gather to my side, my chil­dren of light and darkness. This spawn of Hell shall not have us.,,