Skylar drowsed fitfully in the narrow cockpit, caught between bouts of thin sleep and this waking nightmare. He had always dreamed of flying through space, exploring uncharted planets, darting amidst the stars. Not like this, though. Aboard his uncle's tiny craft, unable to speak, uncertain if he would ever return home, he felt more like a prisoner than an explorer.

When their journey commenced, Quoryn had been nothing more than a glowing freckle in the star-filled vista. Slowly the shape had grown larger, until it was no longer merely a green orb floating in space, but a planet looming before them. Skylar marveled at the sight. Never had he seen anything like it. It was not a giant ball of sand, like his planet. It was one contiguous forest, sprawling over the entire face of the planet, broken only by the white polar ice caps, and a few scattered valleys, lakes and seas. Skylar had never seen anything so wondrous. The sight caused him to momentarily forget all of his fears.

Soon the shuttle was plunging at blistering speed into Quoryn's oxygen-rich atmosphere.

"Welcome to Quoryn," said Lasseter, ending the long night of silence.

"It's beautiful," replied Skylar, looking in every direction all at once.

"Indeed, there is more to see than on Haladras. Yet, despite its beauty, it still holds perils for you. We will be landing soon. We must avoid looking conspicuous. No talking of the events that have brought us here until we are in a more secure location."

"Where are we going?"

"To the dwelling of those who understand your plight."

They landed in a small glade, among a dense growth of trees. The sun of this planet had begun to wane. Despite his excitement over the new planet, he suddenly felt heavy with fatigue. He yawned loudly.

"No time for sleep," said his uncle. "We have several miles to walk before we may rest."

"Several miles!" cried Skylar. "Whatever for? Can't we take the ship closer to wherever we're going?"

"It's too dangerous. I only hope the ship is small enough that no one will care that we dodged the port."

So saying, Lasseter opened the hatch and climbed out of the cockpit. A rush of cool air flooded in, sending shivers down Skylar's spine. His muscles immediately tensed. Never had he felt so cold. His uncle appeared unfazed by the chill air. Seeing Skylar shivering, Lasseter chuckled.

"I think you'll be wanting that cloak now."

Skylar clambered out of the cockpit, opened the storage compartment and rummaged through the sack. Finding the cloak, he quickly put it on. The heavy paqua hair fabric brought instant relief to his frigid body. Despite his previous grumbling about the cloak, Skylar felt grateful to have it.

Shouldering his pack, Skylar dismounted the craft and joined Lasseter.

"Don your hood, Skylar," he said, doing so with his own. "Anonymity is our ally here."

Skylar obeyed his uncle's instruction―though he saw no reason for it―then set off behind him as he led Skylar toward the fence of trees enclosing the glade.

"Will your shuttle be safe there?" questioned Skylar after a few paces, turning back to check on the vulnerable-looking craft.

"Safe enough," replied Lasseter softly. "Though it matters little now..."

Within moments, the two travelers stepped inside the forest of trees, and the light around them instantly faded to near blackness. The air felt colder. Skylar pulled the hood further over his face and stared up in wonder at the towering trees. They swayed rhythmically, in time with an imperceptible breeze. The dark blue sky overhead peered down at the forest in small jagged splotches. Ahead, all that could be seen was an endless host of tree trunks set among the ferns and shrubs.

They walked along in silence, Lasseter following an invisible path through the maze of trees and undergrowth. The only sounds in the whole forest were the crunch of leaves, the snap of twigs, and the creak of trees. All these sights and sounds were new to Skylar, and he walked along as one in a mysterious world.

By the time they came to the end of the woods, night had wholly fallen. Skylar felt relieved to be out of the shadowy depths of the trees. Before them stretched a wide plain, sliced asunder by a sinuous river, glinting like a steel blade in the moonlight. Beyond the river lay a dark, sprawling mass, spangled with faint lights.

"Amrahdel, main hub of Quoryn."

Though he spoke softly, Lasseter's voice pierced the silence like a shout.

"You have enemies there. Be cautious."

With this last admonition, Lasseter strode out into the silvery glow of the moon. Their going grew easier now. And Skylar felt more at ease. Soon they came to the river. It moved swiftly, and sounded like the rushing of a great wind. It was as wide as the Devil's Throat. Skylar wondered at it. Far beneath the surface of Haladras, rivers of water run like veins through the planet's interior. But on average a single vein flows at a rate of five litres per minute, sometimes less. The river which rushed before him...it must flow at thousands of litres per minute. Never in his life had he ever seen so much water.

"There's a bridge further up river," said Lasseter. "It may not be safe to use at this late hour."

He paused and looked down stream.

How does he know so much about this place? Skylar wondered.

"The current is strong, but a good swimmer could make it across. Unfortunately you've lived you're entire life on a planet where there's nowhere to swim."

"I have my jetwing," said Skylar. "I could fly across. Of course, then you wouldn't have a way across."

Lasseter considered the situation for a few moments more.

"It will take longer...there's a place where we may ford the river a quarter league down river. Come let's delay no longer in deliberation."

Disappointed at the prospect of the added distance to their journey, Skylar glanced out across the river before turning and trudging onward. Fatigue had started to get the better of him. His legs felt like lead and his head ached from lack of sleep. If his uncle had offered to let him sleep, he would have gladly accepted the rocky riverbank as his bed. Despite his yearning for sleep, he managed to keep pace with the steady stride of his uncle.

With the moon high overhead, they reached the spot where Lasseter deemed it safe to ford. Cautiously, they made their way across the glinting river. The dark waters felt cold as they swept over Skylar's boots. The going was easy at first, the water being too shallow to be dangerous. By midstream, however, the water reached above Skylar's knees. The current proved more powerful than Skylar anticipated. He struggled to maintain his balance as he forced his way further into the river. The water soon reached his thighs.

Skylar paused, his feet and legs numb with cold, fighting the current which threatened to carry him away. Lasseter had passed the deepest part of the river and was now moving with confidence toward the shore.

The thought of his jetwing came to Skylar's mind again. He reached for it on his belt loop, took the thrusters in each of his hands, extended his arms out wide and burst from the water into the night sky. When he alighted on the far shore, he could tell, even in the moonlight, that his uncle was not pleased.

"So much for inconspicuous," said Lasseter, as Skylar sloshed onto the rock bank.

"But uncle, there's no one around," protested Skylar. "No one saw me."

Lasseter came nearer, his green eyes still blazing in the moonlight,

"You never know who's watching. Light travels for miles in the darkness. I only hope it comes to no misfortune. Come, we must move with greater speed."

Sighing, Skylar followed after his uncle, his wet boots squelching noisily.

Lasseter had made true on his promise: he set a pace that Skylar found difficult to match. Neither the chill air nor the dim moonlight did anything to warm him or to dry his drenched garments. Yet, in spite of his discomfort, Amrahdel grew ever nearer.

He began to make out some of the shapes of the buildings. The city looked nothing like Kaladra or the Gorge. A formidable wall protectively surrounding the entire city and a single gateway permitted entrance from the side they approached. Countless rectangular structures, with myriad heights stood like shadows against the night sky. A few orange lights still glowed from building windows. Near the center of the shadowy city rose a spire, a singular pinnacle, standing ready, like the spear of a giant sentinel.

"We'll have to scale the wall," muttered Lasseter, half to himself. "The gates are closed. And the gatekeeper will be suspicious of anyone seeking entrance at this hour."

Scale the wall? thought Skylar. How exactly are we going to manage that?

As they crept near to the wall it seemed to grow in height, until it stood ten meters above the ground. Skylar wondered why the city needed such fortification. As long as he could remember there had been peace in the empire.

Crouching at the base of the wall, Lasseter searched in the darkness for something within his bag. After a moment, he drew out what looked like a coil of rope. Wordlessly, Lasseter handed the rope to Skylar, then returned to searching through his sack. Another moment passed. Lasseter stood up. In his hand he held a black sphere, small enough to fit in his palm. A small loop protruded from one side of it.

Taking one end of the rope in Skylar's hand, Lasseter threaded it through the loop, then deftly tied a knot so as to hold the rope fast to the loop. Testing the knot with several sharp tugs and finding it satisfactory, he pressed an invisible button on the sphere. Instantly, four curved prongs ejected from within the sphere. Skylar realized that the ball was some kind of grappling hook. By this point nothing about his uncle ought to have surprised him, yet he marveled silently at his uncle possessing such a device.

Lasseter next put his ear flush against the rough-hewn stone of the wall. He stood motionless for several minutes. Shortly after Lasseter sprang up and hurriedly whispered instructions in Skylar's ear.

"A sentry has just passed. We have approximately ten minutes before the next crosses the way. We must both be up and over the other side before then. I shall ascend first. I'll tug the rope twice when it's clear for you to climb. Should anything happen, get clear of here. Hide in the woods. I'll find you―somehow."

Without pausing for a response, Lasseter backed away from the wall a few steps, took aim, and swung the hooked rope toward the wall's parapet. A faint clink reached Skylar's ears as the four-pronged sphere struck something solid. Lasseter tugged the rope to ensure it would hold. Satisfied, he put his feet to the wall and began scaling it with a speed and agility which astonished Skylar. Within a few moments Lasseter's dark form had quietly slipped over the top of the wall.

Skylar took the coarse rope in his hands and waited for the signals. His palms were sweaty. He hoped he could hold onto the rope without slipping. No sooner had he taken it in his hands than he felt a distinct tug on the rope, then another. Taking a deep breath, Skylar put his feet onto the wall and began ascending just as he'd seen his uncle do. He did not race up the rope like his uncle, however. The task proved more challenging than he expected. Several times his feet slipped off a loose rock, sending him colliding with the wall and dangling from the rope with only his sweating, burning hands to hold him.

The thought of the sentry on top of the wall came into his mind. How much time did he have? His progress felt much too slow.

After struggling to regain his footing on the wall after another slip, he decided to lean back further from the wall, putting increased weight on the rope. This helped, but now his arms must also work harder. His exhausted muscles threatened to give out at any moment. Despite the coolness of the night, Skylar's face glistened with perspiration from the exertion.

Faster! He urged himself as he approached the top of the wall. Forearms burning, nearly refusing to hold onto the rope any longer, he made it within a yard of the top. Suddenly, a shadowy figure grabbed his arms and with herculean strength hoisted him over the parapet and onto the top of the wall.

His uncle put a finger to his mouth, urging him to stifle his heavy panting. Then Lasseter quickly pulled up the rope and secured it to the other side.

"Here," he whispered, handing Skylar a piece of cloth, "put this over your hands to help you slide down. You go first. Quickly now."

Skylar, stooping low to stay as much hidden by the shadows as possible, dashed the few paces to the other parapet. Then, taking hold of the rope by the cloth, he flung himself over the side. Realizing his mistake too late, he slid down at full speed, like a man who has no rope at all. At the bottom of the wall he hit the ground with so much force that his legs gave way beneath him and the wind was knocked from his lungs.

Seconds later he heard the sound of his uncle descending, his boots lightly touching the ground. Seizing Skylar, he pulled him flat against the wall. For an entire breathless minutes, they stood frozen against the wall. Waiting.

Finally, Lasseter slackened his hold on Skylar. Evidently the sentry had passed.

"Are you hurt?"

Skylar groaned a little.

"Just a bruise, I think."

"Good, I thought you'd broken your leg for certain."

Lasseter took the still dangling rope and tugged it in a strange pattern. As if in answer to a command, the rope suddenly fell free and Lasseter caught the black sphere, no longer four-pronged.

"How did you do that?" said Skylar.

"It's a code. Tug the rope with just the right pattern and interval, and the prongs retract."

Lasseter returned the ball and rope to his sack, then motioned for Skylar to follow. Through the dark, muddy streets, they made their way deeper into the heart of the city. Keeping to the shadows and alleyways as much as possible, they passed by the dormant buildings like phantoms in the night. At last they arrived at the back door of a dwelling, indistinguishable in the dark from the others around it.

Drawing up close to the weathered door, Lasseter lightly rapped it with his knuckles. After a moment's silence, the door creaked open. Amber light spilled into the street. A man with gray stubble and a stern gaze stood in the portal. The man fixed his gaze on the cloaked and hooded form of Lasseter, then on Skylar.

"Is he come?" the man asked in a low tone.

"He is," replied Lasseter.