"Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?"

"Not entirely...this computer map really only gives landscape and the general direction of things, but it *looks* like the right direction. Sorta. I'm bringing us around the long way."

"Pray, tell me, whatever for?"

"Because I don't like the look of this section of the map," explained Ian, turning the floating screen so that GB Jazzman could take a look. The musician was content to let Ian navigate...he prefered to practise his fingering as he walked.

"You mean this big empty space? Looks like a slice of heaven to me..."

"Yeah," agreed the soldier, "but look at the way it's placed in relation to the river...and to that lake over there," he continued, pointing out the landmarks on the map. "And there are rapids and whirlpools marked for *this* region...all of which look remarkably like sections on Lion-o's route through his annointment trials."

The other paused to consider this. "The Great Void," he said in a low voice. "I'm with you on avoiding *that* section."

"Even if I'm wrong, I figured we'd be better off safe than sorry. It might be rockier here, but the danger is nothing compared to the Void. Or so I assume...I'm not entirely sure what the Void does."

"Me neither, but I'd just as soon not find out. What area are we in anyway?"

Ian frowned at the map as he carefully picked his way over the rocky path. "Somewhere near the Vortex, I think..."

GB Jazzman stopped short. "Wait. Repeat what you just said...but slowly."

"Somewhere near the Vortex..."

"So it *does* sound just as stupid the second time around..."

Ian couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, it does. But the Void tends to move around and we can't exactly be sure what we're dealing with. The Vortex we know...and it stays still. All we have to do is not get in front of it."

"True enough. But I still don't like it," said the Jazzman, shaking his head. "I don't supose there's another way?"

"Not that I can see," replied Ian. "But that doesn't mean there isn't room between them. I'm trying to lead us right up the middle, but it's hard to tell exactly how close we are to one or the other."

"I'd say we're closer to the Vortex," guessed GB Jazzman, shouldering his instrument so that it would be out of his way and leaning in to better examine the details of the map. "As I recall, it was in a very rocky area and we're on a rocky slope now. About here?" he inquired pointing out a section of the map. "And we're around here?"

"Yeah...that's what I figured. Of course, I'd put us about here," corrected Ian, indicating a spot a little further north than his companion had chosen. I think that alcove over there is the one that seems to be marked on the map."

"And here I thought it was a squiggly line," grinned Jazzman, lightening the mood.

Ian opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by what sounded like a call for help. Both players paused and listened as the cry was repeated. For a moment neither of them was sure what to do...the game was disorienting, but had presented few direct challenges until now. They flashed each other a quick look and it was decided; they had chosen the side of good and they were sticking with it. Following the cries for help, they scrambled up the rocky slope as quickly as the shifting surface would let them and flattened themselves up against the higher peaks when a loud roaring sound made itself heard some distance to their right around the face of the stone.

The Vortex. And the cries were coming from somewhere near its entrance.

Ian swore. "So much for avoiding *this* particular danger. I'm starting to get the feeling that the game is conspiring against us."

"Don't they always?"

Ian paused. "Come to think of it, you're right. That's kind of the purpose of a computer game, isn't it?" GB Jazzman shrugged and gave the soldier a 'What can I say? I'm good!' grin. Ian reached back into his pack and pulled out the coiled rope which he'd left at the top for easier access. "Here, take this end," he told the musician.

GB Jazzman grabbed the offered rope as Ian shrugged off his pack and started winding the other end around his waist. "I don't like the looks of this. Just what do you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm going to walk in front of the Vortex to see if I can't help whoever's in trouble and you're going to secure that thing to a rock and be ready to haul my ass out of there if I get sucked in."

"I hope you're not trying to say you're more of a hero than I am," snorted the musician, finding a large spike of rock to secure the rope around.

"Actually, I was saying that I have body armour," replied the soldier. "If some hero's going to go bouncing off of stone walls, it might as well be one with protection."

"Right. Good plan," said the Jazzman, inspecting his work. Rather than simply grabbing the line, he wound it around his own waist a couple of times and planted his feet. "All secure," he announced. "You know, how bizarre thoughts occur to people under stress?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Well - since you're going to go bouncing off the inside of a cave with sharp rocks jutting out all over the place - does your armour shield your *entire* body?"

Ian paused. His armour was adapted from what was found in the game's databanks, he didn't know it as well as the armour of his own design. Putting one hand on the Jazzman's shoulder, he looked into the musician's eyes and said most solemly, "I hope to God it does."

The moment of intense male understanding having passed, Ian activated his armour with a thought. The Avatar equipment radiated out of his relatively light breastplate and spread over every inch of his body covered by the bio-suit. This left only his hands and face free of the stuff - for which he breathed a sigh of relief - although it certainly didn't feel as sturdy as armour should. It was, in fact, rather flexible, but he hoped it would protect him from the worst of the damage should he be swept up by the swirling winds.

The cries for help were weaker now and less frequent. There could be no more wasted time.

"Alright, GB, I'm going in," he said, nodding to the musician who planted his feet braced himself against a second stone. Then Ian stepped around the rock face and into the path of the whirlwind.

*********************

"What is that?"

Thundermanx - having opted for a low-key fingering pattern so as not to alarm the Warrior Maidens - stopped strumming his bass and looked up at the brown-haired woman. He had been glad that he'd been allowed to keep any equipment that was not considered a weapon and even more grateful that he'd been allowed to use it. "Atavi, right?" he asked her. When she nodded, he continued. "This is a bass guitar. It's used for making music in the place I come from."

"Thundera?"

Alarms went off in the panther's mind. If he said yes and none of the other Thundercats recognized such an instrument...

"Actually, I find it hard to think of Thundera as the place I come from. I was born on Thundera, yes, but I was young when it was destroyed and grew up elsewhere. That's where I learned how to play one of these and I was given this one as a gift."

The warrior was squatting in front of him now to get a better look at the instrument. Her partner, Kelna, frowned at the action, but said nothing. ThunderManx knew that the vigilant woman thought her friend was taking unnecessary risks, but he could tell that Atavi was still on guard despite her proximity. It mattered little. He didn't plan to attack either of them.

"Where *did* you grow up?" pressed Atavi.

ThunderManx balked momentarily. He had the feeling that she would not press if he refused to answer, but Willa would no doubt ask the same questions and it would go more smoothly for him if he cooperated fully now as well as later.

But what name could he give? He needed one that was not *too* alien, but unfamiliar enough that they wouldn't question it. It also had to be recognizable to himself so that he wouldn't get caught in a lie. Now what place had a name which would match these qualifications?

Had it not risked giving away his mental distress, he'd have slapped himself across the forehead.

"Portland," he said, his hesitation so slight that it was either easily dismissed or attributed to nervousness.

"Ah...a coastal town?"

"Er...no. Not quite. It was a small trade planet where many space ships, not sea ships, would land."

The woman's eyes became momentarily unfocussed and ThunderManx understood that she knew of the existance of spaceships - the Thundercats had arrived in one, after all - but that she could not truly conceive of such a thing here in her forest home. "And they all play these...base gitters?"

"Bass guitars," ThunderManx corrected gently and with good humour. The woman mimicked him and allowed him to answer her question. "No, not everyone. But they were popular. Er...normally they were played in a very...um...wild fashion. At least that's the way I prefer my music. I was only playing softly because I didn't want to disturb everyone else."

In fact, ThunderManx was rather pleased by the versatility of his instrument. Because it was a game tool, it did not need electricity or amplifiers and he had a feeling that changing its colour and shape would be a snap as well, if a little more work. As it was, he had been able to activate the item by selecting it in the equipment screen and it would play as loudly or as softly as he wished by mental command.

"Our music is often wild too," confided Atavi, "but it is composed mainly of drums and the most frenetic beats are only used in ritual celebration."

Now it was ThunderManx's turn to be curious. He opened his mouth to ask about these celebrations, but was cut short as the door opened up and he was greeted, not by the blonde who had escorted him here as he expected, but by Nayda herself. He watched with keen interest as the two women who guarded him dropped to one knee, placed an arm over their chests, and bowed from the waist.

"Kyr Willa will see you now," said Nayda, paying no attention to the motion. "Atavi, Kelna, bind his hands behind him and guard him as we walk."

The two women stood and acted immediately. ThunderManx did not put up a fight even though they forced him to leave his belonging in the hut. He knew they would not steal them and the more compliant he seemed, the more likely they were to trust him.

The distance to Willa's hut - or audience chamber as the case may be - was not far and ThunderManx was soon escorted through a doorway covered with a single piece of hide which was held aside by one of the two women who stood guard. Nayda led him, followed by Kelna and Atavi, to the centre of the chamber before a low, sprawling chair of bent branches which was covered in furs. In it sat Willa, sitting slightly forward to analyze him as he was presented to her. ThunderManx did not mistake this seat a throne; there were two more like it off to one side of the hut and he was sure he had seen at least two others as he had come in. This was, then, a sort of coucil chamber and Willa has simply chosen to make herself comfortable while he, a mere prison, would be forced to stand or sit on the floor.

Nayda put a hand across her chest, and bowed only with her head. "Kyr sister, the prisoner," she said before standing. Then she stood beside him as the woman on either side of him bowed as well, this time dropping to both knees and bowing slightly from the waist.

ThunderManx thought he might be catching on to the protocol. In essence, the lower your place before the person you stood, the lower you bowed. Though he had not seen the warriors perform the action in the woods, he supposed that such things were done away with in the field and only maintained within the Treetop Kingdom itself. Chancing that he might be wrong, ThunderManx dropped to both knees as the other two Warrior Maidesns stood and, dropping back on his heels so as not to overbalance himself, bowed as low as he could without the use of his hands, his head nearly touching the floor of the hut. Then, with a little difficulty and a near fall, he managed to get back up on his feet, keeping his face as expressionless as possible though he was pleased to notice a slight smile on Willa's lips.

"Our prisoner is observant," she remarked. Then, to ThunderManx specifically she said, "You claim to come from Thundera?"

"Not directly," replied ThunderManx, trying to stick to his story. "It was destroyed when I was young, but I was born there, yes...and I know of the Thundercats. I heard they were on this planet...Third Earth. I had hoped to find them."

Willa made a slight gesture which ThunderManx could not interpret, but which Atavi acted on immediately. Sighing, the Thunderian was relieved to find his bonds cut and his hands free once more. He had been tied and untied enough today and his wrists felt raw. He rubbed them gently trying not to make the action look like an accusation.

"You seem honest enough. You have not tried to harm or molest any of my tribe, be they warrior or child, maker or scout. We will let you wander free in the village for now, but know that you will be watched and may not leave until we have contacted the Thundercats ourselves."

"Forgive my interruption," said ThunderManx, suddenly alarmed, "but my family was not well-known on Thundera. The Thundercats wouldn't recognize me."

"No," said Willa, seemingly undisturbed by his outburst, "but they may be able to tell whether or not you are truly Thunderian...and at least they will know where you are while you still do not know how to find them. We will not give you directions to the Lair of our allies or risk your stumbling across it - as you surely will - if we can prevent it. I will send a messenger. One of them will come and decide for themselves whether your intentions are good. In the meantime, enjoy what our village has to offer. You may use the hut you were kept in for now. In it you will have privacy. When you leave you will be watched. If you need food, drink, or require a mat for resting, ask and these will be brought to you there. We will keep your weapon for now...you may have the rest of your belongings."
"But I'm still a prisoner," said ThunderManx dully.

"In a sense. But your prison is large and accomodating. And, should you be telling the truth, only temporary. Explore it while you can. We don't normally allow males to wander freely through our trees and you may not get another chance to see our village. You may go," finished Willa, smiling more widely as ThunderManx repeated his bow. "That is no longer necessary...it is used as a greeting only. Kelna, Atavi, make sure our guest is comfortable then return to your girls...they have had enough of a vacation from training. Nayda, please stay here. I wish to discuss the Ketavani with you..."

Thus dismissed, ThunderManx allowed himself to be led out of the council chamber. When he had accepted the offered mat, food, and drink which would be brought to his 'guest' room, he was let loose to wander through the village. "Might as well start at the bottom and work my way up," he decided, heading for one of the climbing ropes.

*********************