Rick snapped awake to see Bors sitting up. The barbarian moved with great caution as if he was in pain. Of course he’s in pain, stupid. He had a spear in his chest half a day ago.

“Friend Rick, what is wrong?” Bors asked, his voice thick as he looked at Rick with concern.

“You were injured. I had no idea how to help you,” Rick said, lowering his eyes.

Bors let out a weak laugh which dissolved into a cough. “The Hidden Mountain tribe is strong. I will heal. Do not worry. The medicine you made for me is helping.”

“How do you—”

“There was a part of me that was listening,” Bors said, though he didn’t look Rick in the eyes. “I don’t like the fact that you spoke to the witch. She has some control over your loved one, doesn’t she?”

Rick pursed his lips. “Something like that,” Rick muttered, again avoiding the barbarian’s eyes.

Bors shook his head. “I’m sure she’ll be released from whatever curse the witch has laid upon her. With the help of this,” Bors said, thumb pointing at the black-pitted sword beside him. He looked like he wanted to reach out for it but paused as if he didn’t truly wish to take the sword up.

“What is wrong?” Rick asked.

There was a moment of silence. “A burden that I do not wish to carry forever,” Bors said, his mouth quirking into a frown. The bigger man had a sudden look of haggardness.

“Why take it up?”

“Duty. Heavier than a mountain,” there was a twist of his lip as if he told some joke.

“Then . . .”

Bors’s fingers wrapped around the worn, leather hilt, a rictus of pain coming and going so fast, Rick wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “I must, friend Rick. I am the only one who can wield her and live.”

Rick looked at the barbarian askew. “What do you mean?”

Bors gave a heavy sigh. “The Soul of the Mother is my tribe’s greatest accomplishment and greatest shame. It holds the soul of a mountain. The mountain to which my tribe has dedicated its name.

“What mountain?” Rick asked, intrigued by the barbarian’s antiquated belief.

“Olympus Mons.”

“Your sword holds what?”

“You heard me. The Soul of Olympus Mons, the greatest mountain of Sol. The Soul of the Mother.” Every word Bors spoke was with such reverence and gravitas that Rick was sure Bors believed it.

Rick tried not to laugh, yet he did let out a small chuckle before stifling it when Bors cut him a hard, dark look. “Bors. You’re saying that Olympus Mons has a soul? That doesn’t—”

“She did when she disappeared,” Bors said as he stood, testing his limbs.

Rick was struck silent for a moment. “Wait, Olympus Mons disappeared? When?” He asked, unable to make sense of Bors’s words.

Bors shrugged. “I cannot tell. It was a very long time ago.” He looked at Rick. “It is said she could no longer handle the burden of holding up the world.”

Rick’s brain tried to untwist what Bors’ metaphor meant. Something doesn’t add up. “Bors. I don’t know how to tell you this, but the mountain is still there. I was on Mars recently, and it was still there.” Rick wasn’t lying, per se. He hadn’t seen it with the naked eye, but his instruments hadn’t made any mention of a missing mountain. He’d had to cut his patrol of Mars short when he found Al’Kara and they’d had to leave the planet sooner than planned.

“It could have been after your time, friend Rick,” Bors said with a small knowing smile.

“How?” Rick asked, genuinely confused. “You seem to come from a time when men used swords and fight green-skinned Martians—they are extinct. And the Golgoro are—”

Bors shook his head and held a hand up to stop Rick from continuing. “You do not know for a fact when you come from, right friend Rick?”

“You do?” Rick shot back.

“No, not at all. But I have seen and witnessed many strange things that you would not believe without seeing them yourself.”

Rick watched as, throughout the conversation, Bors seemed to grow more and more steady. The large barbarian took a stab at the air, and although he did sway a little in his fighting stance, he was able to recover himself with ease. “Bors, you aren’t—”

“We should continue our journey,” Bors said, settling the sword into its sheath on his back.

Rick studied Bors, wanting to ask one more time. “Are you—”

“Yes, friend Rick,” Bors interrupted, though it was through strained teeth. “Let us depart and find this village and then the witch.”

Rick licked suddenly dry lips. How much had Bors heard last night? And is that sword truly what he says it is?There was a part of Rick that felt that the barbarian was wrong and suffered from some tribal myth that had been passed down from one group of people to the next. In addition, although Bors’s sword looked ready to fall apart, he’d seen it do some truly nasty things. Which left him with a single question: How can an entire mountain disappear?

The two made an odd pair. Half the time, Rick helped Bors move along the same path through the jungle. The other half, Bors moved with a bit more speed than Rick could handle and would stride ahead of the Space Ranger, calling for Rick to catch up.

They came to a small clearing and stopped for a meal. Though Rick wanted to move faster, he knew he’d be useless in helping Al’Kara if he didn’t eat and rest.

“There should be a village up ahead,” Bors said after munching on the small bit of cracker bread that Rick was able to keep dry from the river.

“How do you know?” Rick asked.

“There are more tracks of the Callistians around on the trail we follow. The path is turning into a road, growing more compact, and will grow firmer as we get closer to this settlement.”