"Are we almost there?" Alito complained loudly, eliciting a long sigh from both Girag and Ponta.

"Yes, we're almost there," Girag said. He was in the lead, with most of the supplies. The traveling party was now in the Tachyon Mountains, which Girag knew because of the increasingly step and rocky path they were climbing, but they had yet to come across any people. Luckily, they had made it here without any trouble, and he doubted any Astranian who managed to find them this far would dare venture into the territory of the great Galaxy-Eyes Tachyon Dragon. The mighty beast was known to hate trespassers, though not fugitives, which was why Girag felt relatively safe.

Alito, on the other hand, was anything but optimistic. Because of his head injury, he couldn't walk for very long without getting either a headache or dizzy, so Ponta and Girag had to take turns carrying him on their backs piggy-back style. It hadn't been so bad on level ground, in the forest where trees provided shade as well as cover. But now, up a steep hill and with nothing to shield them from the sun's rays, it was far more exhausting. On top of that, Alito hated being inactive, and therefore made up for his dormant muscles by running his mouth. He talked about anything and everything, consistently. And then there was the constant whine of "Are we there yet?" Over the past suns of traveling with him, Girag was beginning to see that, despite his experience in the arena, Alito acted more like an immature child than a seasoned fighter. Of course, Girag couldn't doubt his story, because he had seen the callouses on the boy's fists.

He never would have admitted it, but Girag liked the small, energetic boy. His endless tirades gave him something to think about other than the uncertainty ahead.

They reached a more level part of the mountain and stopped to rest, Girag gently lowering Alito to the ground. The boy immediately began stretching and doing jumping jacks. "How much farther?" The smaller boy asked, reaching to touch his toes.

"As far as we have to go to find people who are on our side," Girag said. After they had all caught their breath and Girag and Ponta had switched burdens, they continued on up the mountain, looking for any signs of inhabitants. They stopped for lunch- dried fish and berries- when the sun was directly overhead, and then picked themselves up and trudged on again. It was midafternoon before anything happened, and then it was so startling that it almost cost Alito another head injury because Girag nearly dropped him (he and Ponta had switched back by that point).

A sword had appeared out of nowhere and was now pointed at Girag's throat. "Who goes there? Are you friend or foe?"

"I can take him," Alito whispered, cracking his knuckles. He was anxious for a fight. Ponta shook his head urgently at him.

"I am Kiraku of Widehan-yosae," Girag said calmly. "These are my traveling partners: Ponta, my partner; and Alito, the Spartan. We come in peace."

"Why have you come to the Tachyon Mountains? We are not known for our hospitality."

"We are fleeing from the traitor Domitian and his army."

There was a long moment of silence after Girag's last statement before the sword vanished, as quickly as it had materialized. Then, from his hiding place among the rocks, a tall, slender boy with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes stepped into view. "My name is Mizar," he said. "I apologize for my suspicion, but we cannot be too careful. Some of the refugees fleeing here could be Astranian spies. Come, follow me."

Girag wanted to ask how Mizar knew they weren't imposters, but he decided it would be more prudent to be silent. Alito, however, was not so tactful.

"How do you know we're not enemies? In fact, how do we know you're not an Astranian spy?"

Mizar turned and glared at Alito with those piercing blue eyes of his. "Do I look Astranian to you?" He asked coldly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Try to be more diplomatic, Alito," Girag whispered. "And he's not an enemy. He is tall, pale, and fair. Astranians are shorter, creamier skinned, and practically none of them are blonde. Come on." Alito did as he was told, though he was still scowling.

The boy, Mizar, led them down a steep, narrow path so well hidden by brush that Girag knew he probably would have missed it just walking by. At the bottom of the path, there was an entrance to a cave, also very well camouflaged. Girag automatically analyzed it as a defensive position, scanning the nearby landscape. Should the enemy manage to fine this place, which wasn't very likely to begin with, the only way in would be to charge it directly, and with the layers of rock above the entrance, there were plenty of places for archers to hide and rain arrows down on the advancers.

"This is a safe place to be," Girag murmured to Ponta, who nodded in agreement. As Mizar led them through the many corridors of the safe haven, Girag's opinion was reinforced. This place was a maze, entirely carved out of rock. If you didn't know your way around, you would get hopelessly lost. They finally entered what Girag guessed was the main cavern- in the very center of this particular peak. Fires burned all along the walls, keeping the chamber warm. There were people there of all appearances, all of them busy with something. Some sharpened knives, some cooked, some read, some polished boots, and a dozen others tended to a dozen other tasks.

"I wonder if there are any good fighters here," Alito said, looking around.

"Now is not the time to pick a fight," Girag said under his breath.

"Chief Somatun," Mizar called to the leader of the Mountain people, weaving his way through the crowd towards an elderly man, leaning heavily on a carved staff, "These are new refugees from lands conquered by the Astranians. They call themselves Kiraku, Ponta, and Alito," he added, nodding to each of them in turn.

Chief Somatun also nodded in greeting. "Where do you three hail from?" He asked.

"Ponta and I come from Widehan-yosae, and Alito comes from Sparta. We met when our paths converged and, realizing we had a common destination, decided to journey together. Chief Somatun closed his eyes and sat down again, as though an enormous weight had just been placed on his shoulders.

"Both Sparta and Widehan-yosae have fallen? Can it be true?"

"We just told you it was," Alito said. Girag resisted the urge to kick him. Chief Somatun either didn't hear the comment or chose to ignore it, because he didn't respond.

Instead he said, "We are the last free Barian country remaining. How can we stand on our own?" He turned to Girag. "Did any of your leaders survive?"

"I don't know," the young warrior answered truthfully. "But surely, fear of the Galaxy-Eyes will keep Domitian away."

Chief Somatun shook his head sadly. Mizar explained, "The Tachyon Dragon has been silent for over a century. It is said that only chosen dragon tamers can hope to command its power. When the last of these dragon tamers died, Tachyon retreated so far into the mountains that no human could hope to reach his hideaway."

"When Galaxy-Eyes wants to be found, he will come out of hiding," Chief Somatun said. "When that will be, he only knows. It is not something we can control." He gave a long sigh. "How old are you and Alito, Kiraku?"

"I'm eleven, and Alito is eight."

"Almost nine!" the younger boy protested.

"That works out well. Mizar, since they are around your ages, they can stay with you and Dumon. There's enough room in your room for four." He turned to the second Girag, standing behind the first one. "Ponta, what is your preferred shape?"

The Kumiho gaped at Chief Somatun in shock. "How did you know I was a shape-shifter?"

The old man smiled. "When you've been around as long as I have, you learn to tell the difference between Kumihos and actual identical twins. Isn't that right, Jinlon?"

"Yes," Another elderly man stepped into view. "Mizar, if you'll be alright without me for a while, I'm going to go one patrol."

Mizar nodded. "Alright." He turned to the new arrivals. "You follow me. I'll show you where you'll be staying, with Dumon and me."

"Why'd you send an old guy out on patrol alone?" Alito asked.

Mizar sighed in annoyance. "Jinlon isn't an old man. He is one of the dragons that have lived here for far longer than any human. Like Ponta, he can take a human shape, though that shape doesn't mimic anyone else's. That's the difference between a Dragon and a Kumiho, right, Kiraku?"

"Yes. And please, call me Girag."

"Alright, Girag."

Once again, the three boys- well, two boys and one raccoon in the shape of a boy- followed the blonde boy through a maze of corridors until they reached a room, still large and spacious, but much smaller than the main cavern. Inside, sitting on one of four beds, was a short boy with gray hair. "Dumon, I'd like you to meet Girag, Alito, and Ponta. They're going to be sharing our room with us."

Dumon got to his feet and bowed at the waist. "I'm pleased to meet you," he said.

"And so are we," Girag said, returning the greeting.

"Where do you come from?" Alito, never the diplomat, asked.

"I was born and raised in Drachelm," the gray haried boy answered. Girag wondered if there was something in the air here that made everyone except Mizar immune to Alito's callousness.

"Drachelm?" The olive-skinned boy seemed curious. "Is it true that you have flying horses there? What are they called again? I can never remember."

Dumon gave Alito a small smile. "Pegasuses. And yes, although there are not nearly as many of them as there used to be, they do still reside in my homeland." His smile faded. "At least, I hope they still do." Girag nodded his understanding. Not knowing what was happening in your home country was almost maddening, and Dumon had been absent far longer than Girag had.

"Dumon's companion, Mach, traveled with him all the way from Drachelm to reach us," Mizar spoke up. "Mach is a white Pegasus- a young stallion. When Dumon was sick with fever, that horse wouldn't eat or sleep without a lot of coaxing. It reminded me of Dragluon- or Jinlon as he was introduced to you earlier- and how he's already worried about me."

"It's like that for Kiraku and me, too," Ponta said. Having deposited the supplies he had been carrying on the floor, he was now back in his raccoon form. Dumon looked only mildly surprised as the ring-tailed creature scurried up Girag's leg and arm to perch on his shoulder. "If Kiraku was bed-ridden, I don't think I'd be able to eat or sleep either."

"Man," Alito complained, "Does everyone have a cool animal companion except me?"

Next time on A Tale of Two Slaves: Rio wrestles with her conscience now that she knows what became of her twin brother.