Asilo Li led his men across the river and that night they made camp knowing they had success in their grasp. The Prince was theirs, even if Asilo was surprised by the turn of events, he did not give it much thought.

Negara Lampa was the man of knowledge, an educated second in command. Asilo enjoyed the dominance he held over the man, who in any other circumstances would be his better. However Negara Lampa had a debt to pay and so long as that remained outstanding it was Asilo Li who held the reins. The rest of the bunch were mercenary vagabonds, a motley assortment of cut-throats and thieves. Not to be trusted and never to turn your back on.

Negara sat opposite Asilo in the largest of the tents. Oil lamps lit the interior which was simple, the floor an uncoordinated collection of old hand woven rugs in the faded colours of the mountain women's clans. The women who wove them and carried them to the market to barter their wares and gain their living. The lamplight gave a soft warm glow to everything and inclined Asilo towards relaxing on the couch that was also his bed.

He lifted the jug he held in his right hand and took a long drink of the sweet fermented nectar. The effect was at once a burn to the throat and a lightness of head. At the same time relaxing as it was slightly exciting. It hit the spot in his groin that stirred his loins and made him think of home and his nubile young wife.

"If The Pretender marries the Princess," Negara was saying, "only he stands in the way of ruling the kingdom." He nodded in the direction of the boy Prince who was lying alone on the otherside of the tent.

They had brought him here for fear that left alone he might make easy prey for the band of vagabonds. Now that Asilo listened to Negara's argument he wondered why they shouldn't just kill him, here and now. What would the Lord Pretender want with the Prince, other than his death.

Asilo took another long draft of the ale before getting up unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled across the tent towards the Prince. Negara watched him moving, swaying a little.

"Leave the boy alone," Negara said. "We still need to deliver him to the Palace."

"Shut up!" Asilo shouted, and took another swig from the jug.

Negara sat silent as Asilo knelt down beside the Prince. The boy recoiled from the approach of the barbarian sliding back as far as he could. Asilo set aside the jug and grabbed the Prince's hair.

Negara stood up and crossed to where Asilo knelt. He grabbed a hold of him and pulled him up and back away from the boy. "Don't surcombe to the wanton lust of the nectar," he whispered softly.

But the Prince heard and knew what his fate might be. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, he curled up, seeking protection.

"You didn't bring the boy in here to rape him yourself," Negara told him calmly, but with insistence in his voice.

Asilo relented and allowed Negara to help him back to his bed. In a few minutes he was lying asleep and snoring. Negara looked over at the Prince and an understanding seemed to pass silently between them. The rest of the night was tranquil.

"Now we go like the wind," Zhovian said.

"But we are on foot."

Adrian thought everything was lost. The Prince would be killed, the kingdom fall into the hands of his uncle, and he would never get home.

"Don't be so pessimistic."

Zhovian got quickly to his feet, packed the few things they had in the little sack and roused Joel. In a few minutes they were scrambling down the path, a path just as precarious and dangerous as the one the other side. It was still dark as they reached the river, the sun highlighting the ridge, but not high enough to do more than lift the gloom of the night a little.

"A boat!" Joel shouted in surprise at the discovery.

An old narrow wooden boat that looked in need of repair was tied, half out of the water, to a tree stump. The bottom of the boat full of water.

"You knew that was here," Adrian gave Zhovian a long hard stare.

"I saw something yesterday."

"I could have swum across. We needn't have wasted so much time."

"Look at the river, Yuxia. The current is too strong, and I cannot swim."

"Let's get the water out and see if it floats."

The sun was peeking into the canyon by the time they had emptied most of the water, set the boat in the river, and climbed in. It appeared to float and there were two oars. Zhovian pushed off into the river and in seconds they were swept up in the torrent and being taken through the canyon at a dangerous speed.

"Watch out for rocks!" Zhovian shouted above the crashing water.

The spray hit them in the face and obscured their view. There seemed to be rocks everywhere. In an instant they lurched to one side, the front went up, the boat crashed down into the torrent, water slopped in. Again the boat spun, narrowly missing crashing into a large boulder. Then it tipped to one side and Joel was gone. Swept over the side.

It was impossible to do anything, but Adrian clambered to the rear of the boat with an oar to reach out. There was no sign of Joel. Until... something emerged to their right, popping up out of the rapids.

A head.

Arms.

Joel was flailing about desperately trying to keep from drowning in the rushing water. They went around a curve and suddenly the water calmed as the river spread out. Adrian turned the boat into the side of the river and they managed to stop on a bank of rocks. Joel swam towards them. He was safe.

"Lucky it wasn't you," Adrian grinned at Zhovian. "Remind me to teach you how to swim."

Zhovian laughed. Adrian helped Joel back into the boat, and they pushed off. Three more rapids, but none as intense as that first one. Then they were out of the canyon and river became broad and shallow.

Adrian steered them into the shore. This was the ford, but by now the barbarians must be at least several hours in front of them and they still had no horses.

"We march day and night. They will not be in a hurry. Why would they? We will catch them even on foot."

It was a strenuous march, but Zhovian had a secret which helped. They stopped at midday and he went off by himself searching for something. Adrian and Joel thought this was losing valuable time. But he came back with a bunch of some plant, and after rubbing the leaves between his palms he instructed each of them to do the same. And then to chew the leaves slowly.

The effect came on very quickly and that afternoon the three of them were flying across the land as if they had wings.

By nightfall they were hidden in the trees that surrounded the barbarians encampment. They watched and waited, silently.

Not long after nightfall there was a commotion. From the sounds it seemed like someone had been captured. Soldiers came running, the sounds of metal and voices came from the other side of the camp. They saw some movement, but had no idea what was happening. They could see the tents, even the larger one they presumed to be where the leader slept, but where was the Prince held?

"We have to get close," Zhovian said, and started crawling on hands and knees towards the closest tent.

It seemed everyone was occupied with the commotion, this gave them the opportunity to get unnoticed into the tent. It was empty.

From the opening they observed, crouched together like thieves in the night, a man being brought to the larger tent.

"It must be a messenger." Zhovian pulled back the tent flap. "Let's move. Quick, but silent."

They easily made it to the next tent. Quickly looking inside, there were some weapons, supplies, but nothing much else. Except, Adrian spotted the clothing and grabbed the garments.

"These will disguise us."

He stood up and donned the goat skins the other two followed suit. Now they walked to the next tent.

"Bingo!" Joel exclaimed, seeing the boy curled up on a rug at the back of the tent.

Zhovian gave him a strange look. "Bingo?" he repeated.

"He means we found him," Adrian said.

"Bingo!" Zhovian said again and chuckled.

They went inside the tent and shook the Prince awake. He jumped and recoiled in fear, not knowing what was going on or who they were. He smiled when he saw Adrian. But they had no time, footsteps approached.