Bors reluctantly sought the comfort of the Soul of the Mother. When he gripped the worn leather hilt, the sword trebled in weight. He released Mother, and the weight left him. She doesn’t want me to go? That troubled him more, for Mother was not wary of much. Though he could feel the need to find out who was calling him, the thrill of some new discovery on Mars sang in his blood. For a moment, he paused. Then he gripped the edge of the marble slab, heaving himself onto the cold, slick, polished black surface.

“Bors, you are needed. Please, you have to help,” the voice called out, much clearer and closer, Bors realized. A shape took form in the center of the stone slab. It was short; the head was barely up to the barbarian’s thigh. The form was light yellow in color, with ears that stuck out so far they drooped under their own weight with tufts of white fur at the tips. Otherwise, the creature was devoid of hair. The eyes were what concerned Bors. They were black. Pure, pitch black, but there was no malice or rancor in them. The creature that looked up at him from the center of the slab looked more like a whipped dog than any kind of threat. Small arms and feeble, three-fingered hands clutched a walking stick. It was naked, save a rough pair of patched and re-patched homespun shorts. The feet of the creature were splayed out in three wide toes with dark nails flecked with dirt. The body itself was hollow-chested and spindly.

“We . . . we need your help. Please say you will help.” The voice was pleading, begging for Bors to agree.

Bors stared at the small creature. It looked terrified. He reached out, and the form drew back with fearful speed. “You have to say yes before anything can be done,” the creature said. “Please . . .”

“What is going on?” Bors asked. He looked up and saw as he stood on the slab, a mist began to surround the ancient area. The pulsing and the chanting grew louder and more distinct. He could see more of the figures like the one that stood before him, yet they were obscured by the pillars and the rising fog. They looked as if they were made of shadow and no substance. “Why?”

“Will you help?” the creature on the black marble slab asked. “We have need of a hero. Are you that hero?” The hand stretched out again, quivering.

The question made Bors feel a slight smile on his lips. A call to adventure? His belly growled, and he hoped that wherever they were, they had food. “Yes, if you have food,” Bors said, reaching forward to grasp the hand again. This time, he grasped flesh, and there was a feeling of thunder without sound that vibrated through him.

A moment later, there was a sudden rushing of wind as the chanting grew louder and louder. Bors was gripped by some unseen force, stretching and crushing him. The air exploded from his lungs as it was yanked out by force. He collapsed to the ground, shaking and gasping for breath like a landed fish. Finally, he felt himself lifted off the black slab of marble, unable to do more than feel his stomach flip-flop inside him before crashing down upon the black, very solid slab of marble, stunned by the violent forces for a heartbeat.

He stood, Mother clearing his scabbard before he realized that she weighed less than a feather. Mother, what is—

“You said you would help us,” the creature that had spoken said again, though this time, his words were more distinct, clearer. Bors turned to find that the creatures in the flesh replaced the image of the creatures. They cowered, holding hands up to shield their wrinkled, shriveled faces. He was no longer surrounded by the plinths of stone in the dry sands of Mars. Natural cavern walls surrounded him, with yellow stone columns that looked to be of worked stone. There were still seven pillars. Each of them now looked more intact than the ones he had seen moments before.

“What happened?” Bors shouted. His head rang, and he could not hear anything. Something pulled him down more. Mother’s weight had trebled once again. He grunted, dug his heels in, and kept himself standing.

“You agreed to help us on Callisto. You have been brought to our aide,” the creature said.

“Show me!” Bors growled.

The leader pointed toward a large cavern entrance. The other creatures that surrounded the marble square had pulled back from Bors’s bellow and retreated more as he stepped down onto a stone path filled in with hard-packed dirt and followed it to the cavern entrance.

Bors looked around, stunned to see that the sky that greeted him was strange and foreign. No longer were the two bright forms of the Twins, Deimos and Phobos, looming in the sky. Instead, a large red blob of a dark red sun took up the majority of his view. Though, as he swept his gaze from the dark red sun, he could see the ragged edge of black of the night on the horizon. Along the surface of the dark red sun, he saw what looked like molten whorls and boiling swirls of moving liquid. “That looks like the Eye of Jove, yet closer?”

“It is the Eye. You are on Callisto now, hero,” the creature said, extending a shaky clawed hand. “I am Ghurd.”

Bors tested the air. A wet slap had hit him when he left the cave, and it was filled with sweet scents from the overabundance of vegetation he saw on the green world. It was strange and disorienting for a moment, though it was not the first time Bors had been off-world. Usually, it was done with Gates. However, Bors grasped what had happened and looked forward to the new adventures that would take place on this world.

Bors took a long breath and thought he heard Mother cackle in the back of his head. And then the words, “I told you so,” rang in his head before she went silent again.

At least she does not weigh me down anymore. Bors patted Mother’s pommel while looking around. “What do you need help with?” he asked. His sword might not have wanted him here, but he was here now. She would still have her bounty and help him with her strength.

“There is a witch in the mountains, north of here. She appeared months ago. She dominates more and more of my clan. We are too scared to flee and too weak to fight. This is our homeland. We can’t escape her mental domination. We need you to kill her. Once that has happened, we will be free of her control.”

Bors nodded without hesitation. He’d done this kind of work many times, regardless of where he was. “I shall do as you ask. It is an easy task to kill a witch.”

The Callistians surrounded him, letting out whoops and odd hoots of joy after he made his pronouncement.

“What is this place?” Bors asked, looking over the decrepit cavern, which he realized was the entrance to some ancient temple.

“A place to come and beseech help from the gods,” Ghurd said. “It had lain dormant for generations, forgotten by most after the Purge of Salkardin. It was our one last hope to find someone to help us fight the witch.”

“And I was the one it brought?” Bors asked, looking at the assembled creatures and their leader.

“Yes, you will help us. You are the hero who comes to us, in different forms, of course, to help the Callistians, as the legend says,” Ghurd said. “Soon, you will find your partner, and the pair of you will kill the witch.”

Bors raised an eyebrow. “What partner?” Do they mean Tosh?

“The hero will journey here alone, yet he will find his partner on the way,” Ghurd said, intoning it as if it were from some ancient legend.

Bors cocked his head. Could Tosh come to this planet? Would we work together again? The idea made him smirk. He would do much to have a friendly face with him. Though Tosh was more adept at talking than fighting, Bors trusted that his brother would help if he were here. For a price. So, it is good he is not here, or Ghurd would have to give something before Tosh agreed. I’d never hear the end of it. It was the one quality of Tosh that Bors thought was strange. Yes, Bors expected payment. Yet, to kill a witch was an honorable thing for the Hidden Mountain.

As his eyes roved the horizon, Bors noticed a curious light that appeared right under the light of the Eye. It flickered from red to yellow to green and back. “What is that?” Bors asked, pointing toward the edge of the horizon.

“That is where you must go,” Ghurd said. “It is there that you will find Witch Mountain, where the vile sorceress who has enslaved our brethren resides. Follow that light, hero, and you will find your quarry.”