“Whoa!” Steve drew back, reining in his own mount and also Marcia’s.

Back on the road, the other riders did not stop. They rode on into the darkness. In a moment, even their shadows were lost around the next bend.

Steve and Marcia finally came to a halt. He maneuvered his horse next to hers so he could reach her gag. She leaned toward him to make it easier.

“Got her, Hunter.” Steve reached over and untied the cloth around Marcia’s mouth. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, nodding. “But my hands are tied.”

“I am glad,” Hunter said, his voice still sounding distant through the static.

“We have to hurry,” said Steve. “I’m afraid those guys will gather their wits and come back for us.” He wished he still had the knife he had carried on their second mission in Jamaica during the seventeenth century. Instead of cutting Marcia loose, he had to untie her. Finally he pulled her bonds free, and she rubbed her sore wrists.

“Can you handle your reins?” Steve asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Steve turned his mount and kicked it to a trot. Marcia kept pace.

“Hunter, we’re heading back south at a trot. The guys who kidnapped Marcia are riding fast in the other direction, but I’m afraid they may change their minds.”

“I understand,” said Hunter. His voice came through slightly more distinctly than before. “I read you more clearly now. I have almost reached the small town by the gate in the Great Wall. I hope to join you soon.”

“Good,” said Steve, “just in case they come back. But you’ll have to bribe your way through the gate. If we’re lucky, the kidnappers won’t stop running till they reach Siberia. We just can’t take that chance.”

As they rode, Steve glanced back over his shoulder. He saw no sign of the other men behind them, nor did he hear them. Maybe they truly were too frightened to stop fleeing anytime soon.

In the distance to his right, he could still see the lights of the Mongol camp in the distance. Some of the campfires had burned down, but others remained as bright as ever. He supposed that Timur and the other sentries kept some fires burning all night.

Steve and Marcia rode side by side at an urgent trot. Every so often, he turned to look behind them again, but he still saw no one. At times, the moonlight outlined the crenellations atop the Great Wall and the watchtower over the gate ahead of them. Then the road would dip and take them out of sight of the Great Wall again.

They had ridden for some time when suddenly the dark silhouettes of men on horseback moved out from behind a small bluff. The riders crossed the road at a walk in front of Steve and Marcia. Then they calmly turned to face them and stopped to block the way.

Startled, Steve yanked back on the reins and started to turn. He saw more riders moving around them on each side. Behind them, several more blocked the road. Marcia, looking around frantically, gasped in surprise.

“Who are you?” A voice demanded in Mongol. “Where are you going at this hour?”

“Back to the Great Wall,” Steve said politely in the same language.

Suddenly one of the other riders made a clicking sound and lit a torch. Steve winced in the sudden light, then saw that the Mongol raising the torch held a flint and steel in his other hand. By the flickering orange torchlight, Steve recognized Timur as the man who had spoken.

“Ah!” Timur grinned, seeing Steve’s face clearly for the first time….So, it is my friend from dinner!”