Sheera, 'Lil Rok, Tog, and Ork traveled for days toward the East. They kept a lookout for any scouts of Polaar's or any of the tribes who were allied with him. But they saw no one, and figured that Polaar must have decided that they weren't a threat with Mightor out of the way, and had concentrated instead on carving his new empire. They made camp in the evenings, and took turns keeping watch. Sheera, unlike 'Lil Rok, was worried since none of Pondo's warriors accompanied them on this, possibly the most dangerous journey they'd ever been on, and Mightor himself might not be able to help them. But they knew not what else to do, so on they went.
'Lil Rok, naturally thought this was a grand adventure, and never once complained. Sheera kept hoping that Mightor would show up, but she began to wonder if it was all true after all, four suns and moons had already passed, and there was still no sign of him. They kept to the dense tracts of jungle as best they could, in order to avoid any of the mammoth predators that inhabited their world. Sometimes, they were forced to hide when such a beast as a sabertooth or one of the great carnivorous lizard threatened them. Once they had taken cover behind a boulder, from a raging battle between an allosaurus and a giant, purple triceratops. The centuries-old forest giants shook to the their mammoth roots to the bellowing of two scaley titans. At length, the allosaur won, and leaped on top the slain beast to scream his victory to the heavens, then settled down to feed. Sheera covered her eyes and shuddered at the sight of all that blood, and Ork covered his head with his wings and lay there quaking. But 'Lil Rok thought it was the coolest thing he'd ever seen, the two monsters battling up close.
The next day, they emerged from the jungle out upon a level plain. It was a wide, flat sea of waving, yellowed grass that stretched out toward the northwest. In the vast distance, they could make out the shaggy forms of a herd of grazing mammoths, and further, a herd of burley aurochs. The dense jungle now marched away due south, a forbidding border of towering dark green. Not wanting to take any changes by venturing out into the open plain, they followed the line of jungle, keeping close to the broader, incase they had to take cover. As it turned out, they made the right move.
They hadn't more then a half league, before 'Lil Rok pointed toward the sky. "Look Sheera! It's one of the Vulture Men!"
Sheera looked. Sure enough, high in the sky, but far distant, she could make out the form of a pteranodon rider, armed with a vulture-claw spear. Obviously one of Vultar's men It looked like he was the only one about, she wasn't about to take chances. If there was one scout looking for them, there had to be others. And the other tribes might have sent out spies as well, some of them on foot. And they could be anywhere.
"Want us to take care of him, Sheera?" 'Lil Rok offered.
"No 'Lil Rok, you'd better not. There's probably more where he came from. If we don't let them see us, we've got a better chance of helping Mightor."
"Lil Rok hated hiding, but he figured this made sense, and he and the others quickly followed Sheera into the jungle. For the rest of the day, they kept to the trees, and followed the edge of the plain, keeping a watchful eyes of the Vulture man when ever they could without being observed themselves. At length, the pteranodaon and rider circled around and faded into the distance back west. But still the kept to the trees.
That evening, when they ,made camp, 'Lil Rok offered to go catch a staegosaurus for their dinner, but Sheera cautioned him. "I'm sure you could, 'Lil Rok. But remember what father always said. 'Don't kill more than you can eat.' There are only the four of us, and a full grown stegosaurus is enough for our whole tribe. "
"Okay, Sheera. Ork and I'll find something smaller. What will it be?"
"One of those orthas would be nice."
"Awwww, but they're so little. Couldn't we get something bigger?"
"Alright, you can catch us a brace of them. How does that sound?"
"Oh, alright, Sis. C'mon, Ork!"
"Rawk!" Ork agreed. "Lil Rok slipped his own horned 'Mightor' mask, and slapped on Ork's, and they took off. 'Lil Rok, raised his club. "Miiiightooooorr!" he cried.
"Shhhh! Not so loud, 'Lil Rok!" Sheera cautioned him.
"Oh, okay! We'd better be more quiet, Ork, so none of Polaar's spies know we're around!"
"Awk!" Ork agreed, as they took off through the jungle. 'Lil Rok voiced his Mightor yell again, only this time as a loud whisper. They flew on and on into the jungle depths, both of them scanning the forest floor for signs of ortha. Orthas were the closest the age of Mightor could boast to horses. Modern science knows them as the eohippus, or 'dawn horse', and they were the great, great ancestors of all modern equines, only they grew to no larger than a cocker spaniel, though they seldom exceeded the size of a hare.
There were weird rustlings in the underbrush all about them, testifying to the presence of many small animals, some of them doubtless orthas. Ork swooped in low, his head swiveling this way and the other, as he quested for the presence of orthas. Most of the animals, whatever they were, reached the dense cover before Ork and his rider could pounce on them. But suddenly one of the small creatures, whatever it was, bounded through the shrubbery in a zigzag pattern directly in front of them. The ground cover was still too dense for them to see it, but from the way it moved, they guessed it for an ortha. "That's one, Ork!" 'Lil Rok exclaimed. "Let's get 'im"
They swerved in low, expected their small quarry to rush for deep cover amongst the gnarled roots of the forest giants, but the little ortha continued to zigzag in a relatively staple pattern in front of them. "Keep after 'im, Ork!" cried 'Lil Rok "Don't let 'im get away!"
Never wanting to give up, 'Lil Rok kept pressing their attack, not realizing that their quarry was leading further and further from Sheera. Finally, the small animal quit zigzagging and shot in a straight line directly in front of his pursuers, but at doubled speed.
"Wha--?" 'Lil Rok started. He then pressed Ork to renew the pursuit, but the pause gave him a chance to glance around at the trees. The jungle seemed to have chanced dramatically at a relatively short distance. The trees and plants here were of weird and unearthly shades and colors. The flora was of a bizarre sort. It reminded them, uneasily, of the forest surrounding the village of Kartu, chief of the Plant Men.
Then they heard the canvas-tarp flap of a giant pterosaur's wings. They looked up to see the shape of a huge crested flying reptile pass over the canopy. They only got a glimpse, but it was clear the beast carried a rider.
One of Vultar's men.
Whether the pterosaur-rider was the same one they had spotted gliding over the plain, or a different one, 'Lil Rok couldn't guess. Not that it mattered.
"Maybe we better get back to Sheera." Said 'Lil Rok. "Ortha or no ortha."
But Ork said, "Awk! Awk!" signaling 'Lil Rok to look ahead.
A short distance ahead was a grassy clearing—only the grass here--if that was what it was—was of a peculiar lavender shade. The little ortha-it was indeed one of those succulent dawn horses-had escaped from the concealing ground cover and bounded across the clearing. It stopped at the bole of a large tree, and turned to face them. But what most astonished them was the tiny horse appeared to have a rider.
"Awwwwk?" questioned Ork.
"Do you see it too?" 'Lil Rok asked. He blinked several times to make certain he wasn't seeing things. It was already late in the evening. Orange sunlight was slanting between the boles of the giant conifers, and their eyes might well be playing tricks on them.
It still seemed the little beast had a rider, a tiny man with mint-green skin. 'Lil Rok rubbed his eyes to rid himself of the bothersome image.
And the ortha and its rider-if it really had had one-were gone.
"Huh? I think we're starting to see things, Ork." He was at the point of telling ork to turn around and fly back to camp. But his curiosity had been piqued, once 'Lil Rok's curiousity had benn piqued, it was very hard to shake himself from it.
"Awk?" Ork asked.
"Let's check it out first, Ork" said 'Lil Rok. "then we'll go back."
They flew out into the clearing. They scanned the ground for any sign of any sign that what they'd seen had been real.
There were the tiny four-toed hoof-prints of the ortha, proving that that part, at least, had been real enough. 'Lil Rok thought of continuing the pursuit, but realized the tiny horse was probably long gone by now. "Let's head back." He said.
But then 'Lil Rock felt a sudden sting on the side of his neck. "Ow!"
He rubbed it with his palm, and his fingers brushed a tiny thorn-like nettle. He pulled it loose and held it in front of him. He squeezed the nettle slightly, causing it to ooze a greenish sap. Then a wave of dizziness passed over 'Lil Rok. His rubbing the wound must have caused the nettle-vemhom to enter his system.
There was another slight whistle thought the evening air.
"Arrrk!" exclaimed Ork. Immediately, 'Lil Rok realized what had happened. Ork one of the tiny darts had hit Ork as well, sinking through his crimson feathers and into his flesh.
Awwwwwwk! cried Ork feebly as he sank to the ground and collapsed into an unconscious mockery of slumber.
"No, Ork! Stay awake!" cried 'Lil Rok "Don't let them…." He too fell into a deep sleep, and the two of them lay there with "lil Rok lying slumped across Ork, both of them snoring deeply.
When 'Lil Rok next opened his eyes, he thought he must be dreaming-either that or the afterlife that claimed the bravest of warriors had already snared him.
He was lying flat on his back, and though he could turn his head this way and that, his limbs felt as though he were paralyzed, as he doubtless was.
Awwawak!" cried Ork, who was immobilized next to him. Both their horned masks had been removed. 'Lil Rok blinked his stinging eyes to bring his surroundings into focus. At last the vista before him swam into clarity.
They were surrounded by warriors.
Tiny warriors.
The tallest among them stood no higher than a forearm's length. Their skin was mint-green. 'Lil Rok now rrealized that he hadn't been imagining things. Their head were peculiar shaped, almost pointed. They were garbed in the skins of small animals, such as that of a small, fierce striped
jungle cat, and the scaled hides of tiny carnivorous dinosaurs. To a people of such incredibly small stature, such animals must be every bit as terrible as the saber-tooth and the T-rex, and these skins must mark their claim as ferocious warriors. And they seemed warriors all, for each of them carried a thin-shafted spear fashioned from a sturdy twig. Each spear bore the greenish nettle vemhom that had brought down 'Lil Rok and Ork. Around their ne
cks each had a hollow tube and there was a pouch filled with the tiny hollow thorns in each of their belts. Doubtless this was hos they had captured them.
As 'Lil Rok's vision continued to clear, he saw that a number of the tiny green warriors were indeed mounted on orthas, the tiny proto-horses serving this dimunitive people as steeds. There was a faint buzzing sound in the air above them that 'Lil Rok had'nt noticed until now. He looked up to see, hovering in the air above the conglomeration of warriors, a fleet of jumbo-sized dragon flies., each with wings an arm span in length. Their long, tubular bodies gleamed in iridescent blue and electric green. Their, bulging multifaceted eyes shimmered iridescent crimson. In this day and age, such monster-insects were commonplace, and were not strange to 'Lil Rok. But what astounded him about these was that each of them was ridden by a green warrior. Surely, it was these aerial-mounted warriors who had shot him and Ork.
"What do you creeps want with us?" 'Lil Rok demanded.
One of their captors jumped upon his chest. He scowled ferociously and leveled his spear at the boy's face. "Krantzattotkminitiwkawkatnuno!" he demanded.
"What? Talk slower, will you!"
"Numtok! Azzandrabanadrabeeno gub!" exclaimed the warrior. He glared into the boy's indignant face as though demanding an explanation.
"I can't understand you!" said 'Lil Rok "How do you expect me to answer it a don't know what you're saying?"
"Tenkiwatatuwuwuwtuwawaketunberroso! Kranbartokhonusorubu!" babbled the warrior. The other massed warriors in back of him also began talking in the same insanely fast gibberish. It certainly wasn't Common. In fact, it was like no other tongue 'Lil Rok had ever heard of. But it was obviously they were being threatened by these tiny people.
"Look," offered 'Lil Rok. "We don't know who you people are. But we didn't mean to trespass, if that's what you're mad about! We were just trying to catch us an ortha for supper. We didn't know he was one of yours. So let us go! My sister doesn't know what happened to us! She'll be worried if you don't!"
The green man on "Lil Rok's chest held back, and appeared to consider this, while the rest of green men fell silent. Then he scowled again, and muttered angrily, though with less violence then before.
Ugareehah! Antaannazax! Urgah!" he pointed off to the east. 'Lil Rok's gazed followed this direction.
"What? I don't—"
Then a voice materialized, seemingly out of thin air. 'Lil Rok and Ork couldn't see wjo it was who spoke, but it couldn't have been any of these tiny green men. The voice was deep, and elderly, and carried with it a seeming ageless wisdom—and it spoke in perfect Common. "Minutans! Do not trouble yourselves further with these two! They are not spies! They are refugees from a village many leagues west of here! And they are of utmost importance to me! You are to bring them to my cave—now!"
The voice fell silent. The green men, who before and listened to the voice, heads raised in awe, now began murmuring amongst themselves.
"Ugochallah!" demanded the one who appeared to be their leader, as he jumped off the boy's chest. "Xitchallah! Ubar-Nimcolohturo!" he demanded, signaling to the dragonfly riders.
At his command, two of the dragon fly warriors swooped down on their insectesoid steeds . Each of the monstrous insects hooked its strong, segmented limbs into each of 'Lil Rok's arms. "Xuthar! Xuthar!" cried each of the warriors.
Wings thrumming tautly, the insects rose into the air bearing the 'Lil Rok with them. Four other dragon flies hooked their chitonous claws into Ork, and bore him off as well. Using their nettle darts, one of the dragonfly warriors drove one nettle-thorn each into 'Lil Rok and Ork.
Ork cried weakly and lapsed into sleep again. 'Lil Rok too, found his head swimming, and sleep claimed him, but this time it must have been a milder dose, to keep them from struggling, as it seemed more of a peaceful, only slightly drugged, slumber.
When 'Lil Rok next woke, he realized he was lying flat on his back on a bed of aurochs and mammoth skins. He glanced around. He was no longer in the jungle; he was in a cave somewhere, obviously one that held a human occupant. The floor was carpeted with thick animal hides, and there were tables fashioned form wood and mammoth ivory. On the stone shelves on the east side of the cave, set rows and rows of earthenware jars and vials. These appeared to be stuffed with dried herbs and medicines. Obviously who ever owned this cave was a healer, and had means to have drawn the poison out of "lil Rok and Ork's systems. A weak cry came for the floor. Ork maws there, already rousing and starting to preen his feathers.
'Lil Rok himself was drowsy from the effects of the nettle-venom. His limbs still felt stiff. He rolled over and sat up, still blinking away the effects of the poison.
"I see you've decided to join me, young man," said a voice. It was the same one 'Lil Rok had heard earlier, the mysterious one who had given orders to the green men.
The boy then saw who had spoken. In the center of the cavern was a large cauldron. Stirring it with a long gnarled pole was an old man clad in a garment of goatskins. He was very elderly, with a flowing beard and hair of snowy white. But there was nothing frail about him. There was a fierceness about him that seemed to belie his apparent age. His gray eyes glared hawkishly beneath his beetling brows.
"Who are you?" asked 'Lil Rok.
"I was an old friend of your friend Tor." The old man replied, concentrating on his stirring.
Rok slipped to the stone floor, and took a couple of unsteady paces . his legs still wobbled. But now he could get a better look at the what was in the cauldron. It was some kind of weird greenish fluid. He wasn't sure he wanted to know just what it was. He only hoped it wasn't supposed to be supper. "How do you know about Tor."
"Once he saved my life from a hungry dinosaur." The old man replied without looking up. "And I repaid him in turn. But none of that concerns you or I now. What matters is what has happened to Mightor—and your people."
Rok didn't what to say. How did this old man know so much?
"You want to know how I came to know so much about you, isn't that correct? Well, come here, boy and you may see. Both of you may, if the bird is well enough."
"Ark" said Ork weakly as he got to unsteady feet and hobbled over to the cauldron beside 'Lil Rok.
Bird and boy peered into the whirling greenish fluid. Though the old man had not ceased stirring, the liquid seemed to move in whirlpool fashion of its own accord. Then a picture appeared, impossibly in the swirling soup. First on the shadows of forms, then blurred images of semi-transparency, then an entire photographic image
"Whoa!" 'Lil Rok breathed.
It showed a place they both knew well. Their father's village. Only the people were now obviously slaves. They were toiling under the mammoth-hide lashes of Brutor's semi-human servants, straining at great rectangular blocks of masonry. Other slaves were also at work—droves and droves of them, all chiseling away at the mountain side north of the village. The ringing of thousands of chisels filled the air. They were also carving out what appeared to be a gigantic statue of their conqueror—Polaar of the Frost People—out of blue-black volcanic rock.
" I know much about your people and what has happened, boy." The old man said. "The cauldron shows me all visions. I also knew of you and your sister's escape from the village, about your journey—"
"You did? But those green men grabbed Ork and me! We don't even know where Sheera is, but she's probably looking for us! We've got to find her!"
"Look into the cauldron, boy." The old man said. "Send out your thoughts. And see what it shows you."
'Lil Rok peered into the cauldron depths. The picture of Pondo's villages wavered and vanished. The shshpes shifted and reformed, then grew clear. This time, they showed a picture of the jungle country they had so recently quit, It looked like part of the forest of strange plant's where 'Lil Rok and Ork and so recently been abducted by the tiny green warriors. And there were Sheera and Tog. Sheera was calling 'Lil Roks name, and the dragon-dinosaur quested about with his long neck.
"They are looking for us!" 'Lil Rok cried. "Thanks, whoever you are, but we've got to go find them."
"Not so fast!" the old man cautioned. His eyes bore into 'Lil Rok.
"But she could be in danger."
"Ah. You may be right. She might well be. The jungle of the Minutins is filled with many dangers. The Minutins themselves are only one."
"The who?"
"The Minutins are the small green people who captured you. In spite of their size they are very fierce warriors and they guard this forest jealously. They have a natural ability to control all forms of plant life, very like Kartu's Plant People. Only the Minutins can actually control plants with their minds. Fortunately, I am on friendly terms with them. They have taught me much about their magic since I made this place my home. It is much useful, as you shall discover in time. But first we must find your sister."
"You're just like all the other grownups, always talking about danger." Said 'Lil Rok. "Well, you bet I can find my sister, and I can do it by myself! Tell me where my club is and I will!"
"Your club is here." The old man replied. He walked to a roll of giant sloth hides and unfurled to reveal Lil' Rok's small club. 'Lil Rok seized and swung it to great affect."
"But have you thought where to look?" asked the old man.
"Well, no actually." Said 'Lil Rok. "But I'm sure Ork and I can find her on our own. Right Ork?"
"Rawk!"
"If you wish to be a true warrior one day." The old man scowled." You must learn to think things through first. Courage alone does not a warrior make. Nor does strength."
"Well, I…" said 'Lil Rok, at a loss.
"Let me show you something." Said the old man. He walked to a corner of the cave. There was something there that neither Rok or Ork had seen before it was an apparently tame archaeopteryx. It perched on a stand. The old man flicked a finger, and the reptile-bird fluttered over to perch onhis arm in a whirring of wings. "There, there, Arkeo!" the old man crooned caressing the brid's feathers on the back of its head and neck. He brought the bird over to the edge of the whirling cauldron. The bird peered over and in. It peered with one eye and then the other at the image of Tog and Sheera. It voiced two shrill squawks, then looked sharply at 'Lil Rok. It the then flapped from the hermit's shoulder to glide across the cavern. "Lil Rok and Ork gazed after it.
"Follow the bird." Said the Hermit. "She will lead you to your sister and Tog. "
"okay." Rok said. "If you say so. " he leaped on Ork, and off they flew. Once they follow
wed the bird out the cavern, they saw that they were now in a craggy highland country. The cave was high in a cliff of rusty sandstone, with a series of stone steps leading up to it. Nearby was a deep gorge. And further, they could see the edge of a magnificent forest of Jurassic conifers and tree ferns edged by the setting sun,-- plants commonplace to this world and time—unlike the strange plants of the Minutins' forest. They must have come some distance from it then, even though the hermit had told them it was nearby.
The reptile-bird was flapping ungainly toward the distant jungle. Rok and Ork followed.
Meanwhile, Sheera and Tog had entered the forest of the Minutins looking for 'Lil Rok and Ork.
"'Lil Rok! 'Lil Rok!" she called . "Now where did that little brother of mine run off to now?"
"Reeunk! Reeunk!" called Tog. But only the familiar jungle sounds answered them.
It was now dark, almost pitch. And Sheera carried a torch form their campfire. But strangely enough, this jungle seemed to have carried its own light. They had entered a strange portion of the forest, one with an array of bizarre and unearthly types of foliage—not unlike the jungle surrounding the Plant Men's village. That some of the plants might be carnivorous in nature Sheera had no doubt. But some had even weirder properties. Such as those that sported huge, swollen bulbs that gave of a pale, soft, bluish light. They filled the weird jungle with strange illumicense. And added to that there were fireflies—not the small (but still incredibly huge by modern standards) ones found around their village after the spring rains, but ones that seemed as long as her forearm. But the most incredible thing about them was that their lights flashed in every color imaginable—crimson, yellow, electric blue emerald green, jade, violet, orange, chartreuse, carnation pink, indigo, vermilion. They lit up the darkness of the canopy above like a fantastic display of organic fireworks. The place was like a fairy-forest, some unearthly realm of magic and enchantment.
And amid such an eerily beautiful tableau, Sheera was certain, danger would surely lurk in every conceivable form.
She wasn't to be proven wrong.
Before they had ventured much further into the weirdly illuminated realm that was the Minutin's forest after dark, they heard a weird, shuffling noise.
"You hear that, Tog?" Sheera asked.
"Reeeuk?" Tog said, craning his neck back into the dimness of the twisted trees.
"Let's just keep moving."
On they went, and as they did so, Sheera kept her ears sharp for any further sounds. Sure enough there came the same shuffling noise—again and again and again. Sheera knew now that she not only hadn't imagined the sound—but that what ever had made it was following them at a stealthy pace.
What could it be? She wondered. The sound did not seem like they were being followed by any human foe, even though the sound was more stealthy than one would expect from a mere animal, but there was something about it that seemed to suggest something other than a mere beast as well.
But they heard the same shuffling noise coming form the jungle in front of them Both of them stopped and listened. The sounds were growing louder—and closing in on them from all sides.
And then she saw them….
Emerging form the trees on all sides of them were a congregation of beings unlike any they had ever heard of, much less seen. Each stood about eight feet in height and was of the same general proportions as a man. But clearly they were not human; just what they were was difficult to guess. Humanoid in general shape, they were entirely covered in slick, glossy green shag, that somewhat resembled moss. The ends of their long arms terminated in four horney nails each, hooked like claws. Their feet sported long horny nails as well. Their heads were their most unnervingly nonhuman aspect. There appeared to be no discernible features to them; thick green shagginess clothed where their faces should have been. Only two thick, blackish nobs protruded near the tops of their heads. These might have served the strange beings as eyes, though they appeared to be mere growths of some sort.
The circle of weird beings advanced in on Sheera and Tog.
"Stay back, whoever you are!" Sheera warned brandishing her torch at them.
Tog tried to breath fire at the circle of monstrosities, but remembered that without Tor's club, his fire breath was gone as well. But Sheera's own fire was seeming to have an effect on the strange beings. All of them were frightened, and appeared to be backing up.
But then a strange thing happened; what appeared to be a gaping circular "mouth" lined with gnashing thorn-like "teeth"-not unlike the things' claws-opened in the middle of the creature's torso. It revealed a dark green, wetly glistening orifice. And through this orifice shot a spray of thrashing writhing tendrils, green and lilac in color. The tendrils whipped purposefully about Sheera, snaring her arms, waist and legs in a flash. Her torch tumbled to the forest floor. And then the plant- monster fired a sticky glob of wet mucous-like substance on the sputtering torch, extinguishing it. Sheera found that the coils that held her were stringy and tough, and it seemed impossible to break free. They also exuded a sticky saplike substance which made the vine=like coils adhesive, and stung her flesh.
"Tog! Help me!" she cried. But then she saw that Tog had been caught in the tendrils of another of the monsters. The small dino-dragon writhed thrashed his small wings, but the vine-like coils held their captive fast.
"Sheera! Tog!" called a voice they both recognized.
"Reeuk!" cried Tog in relief and delight.
'Lil Rok?" called Sheera, not quite daring to believe it was really him. "'Lil Rok , is that you?"
Then she saw her little brother mounted traditionally on Ork. They hovered a short distance above the circle of plant creatures. 'Lil Rok was swinging his club. "I'll have you out of there, Sheera!"
He swung the club with great force.
The plant beasts, however, did not appear to back off. Instead, one of the monsters opened another maw in it midriff and shot forth another array of thrashing tendrils. They sieazed hold of 'Lil Rok and Ork. One coil whipped efficiently about the bird's neck, and pulled threatening to drw them into the plant creature's mouth. Rok hammaerd at the restaining vines with his club. "Let us go! Let us go! Let us—"
At that moment, the old hermit's archeoteryx attacked. She dove at the plant creature holding 'Lil Rok and Ork, diving at its head. The plant-creature withdrew its tendrils. Then the reptile-bird hovered in the air within the circle of plant beasts. She squawked angrily at them, as though giving commands.
Amazingly, impossibly, the army of plant monsters loosed their hold on Tog and Sheera. The tendrils withdrew back into their mouths. The plant weird creatures stalked into the surrounding jungle.
"Wh-what were they?" Sheera breathed.
"I dunno. But we musta took care of 'em, huh Ork?"
"Rawk!"
"Oh, 'Lil Rok!" cried Sheera, as she through her arms around him and gave him a firm hug. "I'm so glad you're all right! What happened? Didn't I tell you this is no place for your adventures?"
"I found someone who can help us!" 'Lil Rok cried excitedly. "Wait till I tell you !"
"Reeunk!" cried Tog in seeming agreement. He pointed toward the east, then took off as though motioning them to follow him.
"I think he wants us to follow him, 'Lil Rok." Said Sheera.
"Yeah, and he's heading right for the hermit's cave! Maybe he knows' something. He is Tor's pet after all!"
"What hermit?" asked Sheera. "And what does this have to do with Tor?"
"I'll tell you on the way." Laughed 'Lil Rok.
Once they had followed Arkeo back to the cave of the old hermit, Sheera, 'Lil Rok, Ork and Tog, slept on beds of animal hides. The next morning the old man treated them to a breakfast of coelacanth. "Lil Rok told Sheera his story of their capture and rescue. The old man began to tell them about himself, and what he could do for them.
"But who are you?" Sheera asked. "I don't believe we've ever heard your name yet.
"I am called Tar." The old man said. "But once, long ago, I went by another name, one I believe you might find to be familiar. That name was Altar."
Sheera gasped slightly. "You…you don't mean the Altar. The hero of the Shaman wars? That was over two hundred years ago!"
"Magic has given me an unnaturally long life." Tar replied. "But during the Shaman wards, when Melkar, and his forces of darkness seemed almost to prevail against the Shamans of the Ten United Tribes decided that a champion must be found, someone whose heroics could match the greatest hero of the first age. Many brave warriors had taken on Melkar's minions, but in the end all of them had fallen before the foe's magic. So the new champion, the it was decided, must meet Melcher's magic with magic of his own. He had to be more than strong and brave—he had to be strong in sorcery as well. There were other champions who had slaughtered many of the enemies on the field of battle. Boltar the Mighty decorated his tent with the scalps of four hundred Gorks he had slain. But in the end, he too, could not prevail."
"So how did they find this new champion?" asked 'Lil Rok, eager for more.
The council decided that a magic weapon should be forged—a weapon that would give its wielder superhuman strength, and powers of the elements air earth and fire. So the Shamans pooled their magic together, and called on all the forces of nature. Casting their spells and incantations, they created a club fused with the powers of the elements."
"Like Mightor's club?" 'Lil Rok asked in excitement.
"Exactly. Now all they had to do was to find a warrior who they felt had not only courage and strength, but also had the qualities of honor, responsibility, and self-sacrifice, so that he would always fight on the side of Good, and would never betray the people."
"And did you find one?"
"Of course. His name was Altar, ands as you well know from your oft-repeated campfire sagas, and he soundly defeat Melkar's forces, and became the greatest hero of the day. The Shaman Wars had at last ended. And anytime any of the Ten United Tribes were threatened by a foe, Altar was called upon to do battle. And the enemy was soundly defeated. Peace reigned for a hundred years, with Altar as champion of the people."
"So what finally happened?" Rok pressed.
"Well, at last, peace and prosperity, seemed to have reigned for so long under Altar's rule, that there seemed there was no more reason for Altar any longer. Several generations had passed by then. People began to think they no longer needed a champion, with the forces of evil either killed or driven into hiding. And , as often happens in times of peace, tragic though it is, a new cast of young headstrong rulers took over the tribes. And most of them wanted nothing to do with Altar. Some wanted him banished so that they could be the only rulers."
"But Altar wasn't a ruler, was he?" Sheera asked. "he was a protector of the people, like Mightor."
"That is true. But these new chiefs were jealous of him anyhow. They wanted him gone. Others wanted Altar to fight for them, to help conquer other tribes, so they might build an empire."
"Hah! Altar wouldn't do that, would he?" said 'Lil Rok.
"Certainly not. And when he openly refused, the chiefs demanded that Altar either leave or fight them. Even all the tribes' warriors were no match for Altar. But Altar chose not to fight the people he had sworn to protect. Instead, he went into self-exile, and left the tribes to fend for themselves. Rmember again, that several generations had passed since the end of the Shaman Wars. The club's magic had prolonged Altar's life, but he had now reached what be the equivelent of middle-age, even though he was now over one hundred. And the people's hostility wasn't the only reason Altar left. He felt that perhaps he had been champion long enough, and would soon grow old. Perhaps even the club's magic might not lend him his superhuman strength once he got past a certain age. But Altar was wrong. He should have stuck with the people, in spite of the ingratitude of the new rulers. There were many among the people who were still loyal to Altar, who knew what would happen if he left."
"And what did happen?" asked 'Lil Rok.
"What do you think? The tribes started fighting amongst themselves. Each chief wanted to rule all, and petty wards broke out over land. Finally, new tribes with like ideals were formed, and an uneasy truce was passed. These are the tribes that persist today. But the true forces of evil in the world still remained hidden, some of them since the time of the Shaman Wars. To most of them, Altar was still a living menace. They had no idea he had long since retired. But it was not to remain so forever. Gradually word spread that nothing was heard of the old champion. And the world's evil forces spread their tendrils out once more. Evil once again began to flourish. But the evil warlocks and shamans now were no longer united under a single cause. They too, sought to conquer lands, but they were not allied. Tribes were conquered and enslaved. But other tribes fought back, and tribal war of the everyday sort was very much back in the world. However, the presence of Shamans on the side of Good had long since dwindled. Evil sorcerers were slao in short supply, but when there was no good sorcerer, or when a tribe was menaced by a leader with magic, evil usually won. Even in your time Sheera, you know that when your tribe was invaded, hundred of your own father's warriors were slain until the enemy was driven off."
"But that changed when Mightor showed up."
"Correct. But what if I were to tell you that I found Mightor myself, and gave him my club, as the new champion and defender of the people?"
Sheera was speechless for a moment. But if this man really was Altar….
" That is right Sheera. I saw that the world was fast needing a new champion. The forces of evil were growing steadily stronger. But I had indeed grown too old. So I sought out a champion who I thought had it in him to defend the people."
"But what about Mightor now?" Sheera asked. "A strange warrior named Polaar took our village. He says Mightor has finally been defeated. Is this true?"
"It is."
Sheera felt cold despair close over her heart. "But….what can we do? Our father's a captive. Or tribe are his slaves." Then she voiced a question that had been gnawing on the back of her mind for some time now. "Is…..is Mightor dead?"
"He is not. But he will be unable to help you or anyone else, unless you are able to free him first."
"Tell us what we have to do." Asked 'Lil Rok. "Leave it to Ork and me! We'll take take on anyone to free Mightor!"
Tar scowled at the boy, causing 'Lil Rok to fall silent. "The most logical thing for me to do," he said, "Is to find another champion, someone else who is cable of wielding that club. But of course I would also have to forge another club, as that one has fallen into Polaar's clutches. Rok, I believe you would indeed make a worthy successor to Mightor, once you reached a certain age."
"You-you mean it?"
"I might." Tar answered. "But first you would have to outgrow your eagerness to charge into battle. As I told you before, bravery is not enough. You don't see Mightor charging into battle without considering the odds first, do you?"
"No…I guess not."
"You think Mightor is invincible. But when faced with a powerful foe, he must consider the options of where to strike, and how best to use his club's powers. He must know the enemies forces in order to defeat them. If he didn't, he might endanger the very people he is trying to protect."
"But I really want to save Mightor! I want to get in there and rescue him myself!"
"And you may just have a chance to. Come here, boy. I have something to show you."
He led 'Lil Rok over to the edge of the cauldron again. Rok peered in, expecting to see another picture of some sort appear. But none did this time. Instead the aged hermit reached into the eternally swirling waters, and drew out a club. It looked like a duplicate of the club Mightor used, only it was much smaller.
The size made for 'Lil Rok.
"Wow! Is that for me."
"Yes, but let me explain first. This is no ordinary club. It carries magic properties, but not the same ones that Mightor's club possesses. It is not to be used in combat against Polaar's warriors—unless a foe happens to be your own size. "
Rok was disappointed when he heard this. "Well, what good is it, then?"
"Remember when you and your sister were trapped by the Plant monsters in the jungle, and Arkeo made them go away?'"
"Yes, but—"
"Arkeo has absorbed the magic of this cauldron. It allows her to locate someone in the jungle by mentally absorbing the energy whitin. And that same energy gives her the power to over the plant kingdom—including those Plant Creatures. She has power over anything vegetable, including the power to make non-sentient trees walk like men. This is the power of elemental plant energy, that of all green and growing things. And this club will enable you to do the same. Simply point it, and will the plants to do whatever you wish." He handed the club to Rok.
The boy looked it over closely. Unlike any other club he had seen, it was formed of curious green wood. Or maybe it was the plant-magic infused into the club that made it green.
"My advice to you and your friends is that when you are well enough to return home, sneak into Polaar's fortress, and get Mightor's club."
"But how will we find Mightor?" 'Lil Rok asked. "Polaar probably has him frozen, like he did to Tor." Though it occurred to him that Mightor could have probably broken free with his super-strength, even without his club? But then, Polaar's sorcery just might be more powerful.
Tar smiled. "One of you will find him."
"But you can't send 'Lil Rock into that fortress by himself!" Sheera protested. "He's only a boy! I won't let him!"
"Aw, girls!" said 'Lil Rok. "I can do,it just wait and see."
"It is possible that the boy will have to go in alone." Said Tar. "But he must learn to curb his headstrongness. If he does, he should do fine. And I do pan to send some emissaries with you.
Suddenly, a buzzing sound filled the cave. They all looked to see a squadron of dragonflies ridden by Minutins hovering on thrumming wings. This was followed by the scampering of scores of tiny hooves, as a fleet of Minutins soldiers mounted on orthas galloped across the floor to stand at their feet.
"There are many others where they came from." Tar said. The Minutins are very strong people. And what they lack in size, they more than make up in numbers."
In the fortress of Polaar, last monarch of the Frost People, a council was being held. It was now nearly a month since they had taken over Pondo's tribe and the surrounding villages. In that brief time they had captured all of Pondo's people, and made them slaves. They had built a mighty fortress, where Polaar now held council. The wealth of the tribes Polaar did not keep to himself (though he did take the most generous share) but as promised distributed it amongst the allied tribes. Pondo's domains had been split up, so that each of the his subordinate leaders now ruled over a sizable tract of land.
But soon, Polaar grew uneasy. Everyone had forgotten about Mightor. Since still hadn't appeared, even after the people enslaved and this fortress built, the leaders had finally accepted that he was gone for good. But already there was a growing unrest among the leaders. Polaar had treated each of them equally, but he knew that each chief hungered for more. All these leaders were greedy and ruthless by nature, and not one of them cared to share his lands with so many others. Each one all of this land to be his or hers alone. And all of them had grown resentful of being Polaar's servants.
And as a result, they had fallen to squabbling amongst themselves.
Many had complained to Polaar that he wanted more lands, and more power, that his allotted share was not enough, or that one of the others had been given land that was somehow richer, in fish game, ore or whatever, even though it was clear none of them were satisfied. Polaar also began to fear the possibility of a dagger in his back, since any of them would have loved to take his position to themselves. And that was why he had called this meeting. Maybe he could sort this out.
"My lands are not enough, Polaar!" Brutor demanded, pounding a fist on the stone table. "I once had the entire river at my command, and now I am reduced to a measly portion of it!"
"And you only conquered only a few of the weaker river tribes!" said Polaar. "You have more slaves and wealth now than you could ever imagine!"
"Well what about me!" said Numo. "What are my sea slavers to do with your paltry offerings, when once we conquered lands far and wide."
"My friends," said Polaar in his icy voice." Please be reasonable. All of you have more slaves than you ever had. And much more food. Pondo's land is rich! With the labor of these tribes, our produce has increased beyond belief! We will soon hold a monopoly on grain, fish, and furs, and most other things as well! Our empire will very soon be the finest in the world."
"Our empire!" objected Rog. "Why is always our empire! You hog all the loot for yourself, and we get your leftovers, like a pack of starved jackals! The stone men want new lands to conquer! We want the people to tremble in fear when they hear Rog's name, not yours!"
"That's right, Polaar!" agreed Brutor. "We're sick of playing lapdog to you! Either you give us what you owe us or—"
"My lord! My lord! To arms! To arms!"
The cry cut off Brutor's outburst. All of them turned to see a young warrior—one of the Storm King's lavender-hued people came running in. The Storm People, relatively few in number, had served polar as his personal guards. "Why do you interrupt this meeting?" Polaar demanded.
The Storm man fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Great lord Polaar, we are under attack! A new army, like none any of us has ever seen before attacks our land from the east!"
"Attack us! Who are they, that dare to attack the empire of Polaar and his United Tribes? Out with it, what do they look like?"
"I….it is hard to describe them, my lord. You had best have a look yourself!"
Outraged, Polaar clomped up the stone steps to the balcony of his fortress, accompanied by the leaders he had called to council. They stood and looked over the balcony, which had been built to afford a spacious and awesome view of the Polaar's new empire. At first, everything looked normal, the slaves toiling in the fields below, the mighty silver thread of the river, and the dark forest beyond. There was no invading army anywhere that he could discern. But then he saw something curious. At first he wasn't quite sure what it as. From the edge of the vast forest of towering Jurassic conifers and club mosses what looked like a vast dark wave was slowly spreading out from forest edge. It looked like a tide of insects or ants swarming out form a mound. The wave kept moving inexorably in the direction of the river. It didn't take him long to guess that this dark shadow gliding across the land was composed of millions and millions of tiny moving bodies. And that was when he noticed something queer about the air in front to the distant trees as well. They had appeared a bit hazy, darker than normal, and now he saw the reason. Vast, thick clouds of flying things filled the air—swarms of some kind of minute winged creatures, so small he could not make them out form this distance. But the size of the combined swarm, was overwhelmingly, horrifyingly vast.
What were they? A plaque of locusts? Had their new empire somehow angered the gods, and they had sent a swarm of insects to devour their crops and graineries?
"What are we to do, my lord?" he heard Brutor ask, in a tone hushed by growing fear. Polaar realized then that the leaders' quarrel with him was over—at least for now.
"I don't know. We don't know who or what this enemy is yet. Marshal your forces! All of you! And whoever this invader is, don't let them cross the river!"
"Numotiatwaraccbmenoa!" announced Xirtrartax, war-general of Minutins. He pointed across the Rushing water to the land that had once belonged the Chief Pondo.
"Er, yeah, right!" agreed 'Lil Rok "Whatever it was you said!"
Xirtrartax galloped to the front of the line, his ortha as swift as a savanna hare. The other Minutins were swarming out of the forest and over the plain in numberless millions. They were covering the entire land with their vast numbers. Sheera, 'Lil Rok Tog and Ork stood watching as the entire Minutan army swarmed out to conquer its foes. Never had they beheld such a sight. The Minutans were of vaster numbers than any of them had ever guessed, could have even dreamed possible. There were millions, perhaps billions of them All pouring out of the forest. The number of Minutans they had left Tar's mountain with had been small in number. But the old hermit had assured them that the main force of the invasion was hidden from view. The entire trip back, 'Lil Rok and the others had heard in the near distance the scuttering of thousands of tiny ortha hooves as they progress. And though the squadron of dragonfly soldiers accompanied them, a vast, subdued humming told him that far greater forces accompanied them out of the line of vision.
And now that they had arrived at the outskirts of Pondo's land the Minutans were attacking with the full force of their army. They surged across the ladn in a living waving their high battle cries ringing in his ears. And the air itself vibrated with a billion sets of thrumming wings, as the formations dragonfly warriors whirred out of the jungle in drove after drove.
As awed by all this as he was, 'Lil Rok felt slightly let down. He hadn't got a chance to use his new club, and was eager to see how it work. He had once aimed it at a nearby tree and concentrated to see what would happened, but he had been met with an angry admonition from Xirtrartax. And though he didn't understand the Minutin leader, his meaning in this, at least, had been clear.
As they watched the Minutan army approached the rushing water. They then saw that Polaar must be aware of this new threat, for an army had begun to mass on the opposite shoe. 'Lil Rok could make out the forms of Britor and his Gorks, the Storm People, and Rog's Stone Men, as well as Numo's copper-skinned seafaring warriors.
But surely the Minutans couldn't cross the Rushing Waters; they were too swift, and the steeds were too small.
Xirtrartax pulled up before the river in front of his vast following. The Minutan army rumbled to a standstill. Then Xirtrartax gave out anorder "Arntratximaximutususeeuraxa!" he cried, pointed to a vast, Jurassic conifer growing some distance downsteam by the river's edge. At once the tree uprooted and fell with an earsplitting crash, its length spanning the stream. As one, the Minutans surged across the makeshift bridge.
They reformed into an army on the other side. That army grew and grew swelling as it was fed by the steady surge across the felled conifer. The airborne cavalry swarmed down out of the sky, straight for Polaar's allied forces.
It was clear that Brutor and the others hadn't expected anything like this. But they held their ground with what little forces they had massed at the time, as the Minutans attacked. They were not used to battling foes of this sort. But as the army bore down upon them, they hacked and slashed at their diminutive aggressors with sword and ax and tulwar. But the Minutans had not only superior numbers; they were swifter and more agile than they could have dreamed possible, even for their size. The trained hyracotheri leapt and zagged around the warriors from all sides. Each one of Polaar's men had to contend with six Minutans each on the ground, and four in the air, and they pranced and darted with such uncanny agility, that few blows even nicked any of them. And they certainly knew how to use their nettle-envenomed spears to kill or cripple their foes by thrusting into vital spots.
And they kept on coming.
At last Polaar's feeble forces broke ant ran before the massed might of Minutins.
"Now's our chance, 'Lil Rok!" said Sheera. They dashed across the conifer bridge in the wake of the Minutan army, Tog and ork flapping above. Then the began scouting around the edge of the captured village for a means to of access to Polaar's fortress.
As they did so, the rest pf Polaar's forces rose to the attack. The Serpent Queen's Gillmen, the Plant People, the Giant People, and rest of the other forces, realizing that here was a very dangerous foe indeed, were once again united as one. The Giants, surprisingly were among the first to suffer defeat by the Minutins. It took a massed squadron of fifty insect riders toattack each of the giants . But these were pitifully few in number and easily confused as they tried to swat at the horde of Minutins that swarmed around them. On the ground, the army of Minutan easily tripped the Giants. The Minutans themselves easily scurried out of the way, but number of Polaar's forced were squashed in the bargains. The remaining Giants, sensing defeat, retreated in the direction of their native country. The Vulture Men were also easily dealt with by the Minutins. They did not need to bother with the giant avian reptiles; they merely attacked the riders themselves striking them with nettle venue or swarming over them, so that hey either retreated or toppled from their saddles to a mangled death on the battlefield below. On the ground, Polaar's united forces, and the vast army of the Minutan cavalry were more evenly matched. But throgu swiftness and overwhelming numerical superiority, the Minutans were slowly, inexorably winning.
From the fields, the slaves had also stopped to watch the incredible battle as it raged. It was war unlike any they had ever imagined. Sheera and 'LilRok were moving through the masses of slaves, hoping to loose themselves, and perhaps gain some information. Sheera was stunned that one of the slaves in crowd was—their father, chief Pondo!
"Father!" she cried, unable to stop herself in time.
Pondo turned and looked—and then joy filled his features, along with incredulity. "Sheera? Is it really you?"
"It is, father." She through her arms around him, and they embraced.
"And 'Lil Rok!" cried Pondo. "I had nearly given you up as lost. I should have known you could survive on your own." All of them hugged each other, as the rest of the slaves looked on. "Tell me all about it, "Pondo said.
"We will later." Said Sheera. "But right now we've got to find Polaar's fortress. We need to sneak in while our army takes take of Polaar."
Pondo looked incredulously out at the swarming battlefield. "Your army?"
"That's right, father. But it's a long story. First, show us—"
"Polaar's stronghold is there," answered Pondo, pointing toward the
imposing fortress of stone nearby. "But I can't let you risk yourselves going
in there.'
"It might be the only way, father.
If--where's 'Lil Rok?"
They looked around. 'Lil Rok had vanished.
Eager to prove himself, 'Lil Rok together with Ork and Tog were already flying straight for Polaar's fortress. Rok was mounted on Ork in Mightor costume, and Tog was flying alongside them both. Only this time, instead of the club he usually used, Rok held the green club Tar had given him.
As they neared Polaar's stronghold, they saw that it was guarded by two of the Storm Men. There were only two on duty, both occupied watching the battle, but "lil Rok didn't think they could get by them easily. He instructed Ork to glide behind the building's west wall. All three of them peered around the corner at the guards.
"I know! You go create a distraction, Ork!" 'Lil Rok said.
"Ork?" Ork asked.
"You know. Go pretend your wing's busted or something. Then Tog and I can get inside.
Ork flew clumsily out in front of the guards. He flopped on the ground flopping his left wing as though it were broke. "Awk! Arrk! Arrk! Arrrrrrk!" he squawked. The guards chortled to one another, then stepped curiously form their posts to investigate. But when they got too close, Ork flapped his wings stronger then ever, and took off.
By then, 'Lil Rok and Tog were already inside and up the stone steps leading to Polaar's personal suite.
'Lil Rok reached the top of the stairs. Here they branched into two separate staircases one led to Poaa'rs vast chamber, and the smaller ones for his guards and servants. The other stair led to the council chamber, and the rooms where Polar kept objects of great personal value.
"You take one stair Tog, and I'll take the other."
"Reeeeunk!" Tog agreed.
Tog flew up the stair leading to Polaar's suite. Rok bounded up the other, club at the ready. When he reached the top, he found himself in a bewildering maze of stone corridors. They zigzagged away at alarming angles. 'Lil Rok chose one at random. There were many rooms here, one stashed with war weapons, another with a glowing crystal globe, and still another stashed with gold, an offering for Numo's seafarers. Another was a storage room for grain. Finally at the end of the crazily twisting hall, 'Lil Rok found himself in a chamber that was larger than any of the others In the center of this chamber was a glowing block of eldritch ice. And imprisoned within was Tor. 'Lil Rok's longtime friend and mentor. In the opposite corner was another stash of weapons. These ones had been taken from Pondo's warriors. Among them was Tor's club.
Well, he hadn't found Mightor yet. But at least here was a chance to use his club and free his friend. With a cry of "Miiiitghtor!" 'Lil Rok broguth his club down upon the ice block.
The club bounced back, knocking 'Lil Rok flat onto his back. It was as though a force field surrounded the ice block.
Then he got another idea. This club was supposed to control plants. It sort of seemed like a dumb idea, but there of a stray vine growing along the outside of the this building that had somehow snaked its way through the room's single stone window. 'Lil Rok pointed his club at the vine. He stood back, closed his eyes and concentrated.
Sure enough, he seemed to have mentally tapped into some kind of invisible, elemental energy. The small club seemed to throb and pulse with it, vibrating in his small grip. Rok opened his eyes—and was amazed to see the vine growing, just as he had willed it too. It was growing steadily fibrous and thick exp\ending in width and snaking into the chamber. It grew down to the floor and around the ice block.
'Lil Rok knew just what he wanted the vine to do next. He shut his eyes again and concentrated harder. When he opened them the vine and snarled itself around the ice block. It continued to expand, growing even more thick and gnarly until it was actually crushing into the ice like an impossible vegetable constrictor snake. Chips of ice broke and flew like glass. Then the vine's tip burrowed into the ice block itself . It began threading itself through the mass of ice, growing thickier as it did so, but not once even touching the prisoner within.
At last, weakened and riddled with the magically enhanced vine the entire ice-block shattered into a million scintilous fragments in a arctic blast that forced Rok onto his back again.
When Rok sat up, Tor was standing over him, free.
"Whoa!" Tor said. "What happened? 'Lil Rok! How'd you get here?"
"It's a long story, Tor!" 'Lil Rok exclaimed, "Wait till you hear it! Anyhow, it was my magic cub that got you out!"
"Really? What happened? What about that creep Polaar?"
"He's taken over everything, Tor!" cried 'Lil Rok "But were going to defeat him. We've got an army to help us! But right now, I've got to find Mightor! We thought he was frozen, just like you were!"
"Oh, yeah." Tor remembered. "We've got to find Mightor!"
"Right!"
Tor retrieved his club, and they dashed out into the hallway. Finally, they reached the stairs. They headed toward Polaar's suite, where 'Lil Rok said Tog had gone. When they reached the top of the stairs, they were confronted with two separate passageways, each leading to more rooms.
"We'll split up here." Tor said. "You go this way, and see if you can fins Tog. I'll look for Mightor."
"But—" before 'Lil Rok could protest, Tor was gone.
'Lil Rok sighed, and went on searching, secretly hoping that he might stumble upon Mightor himself. He called Tog's name several times, but got no answer. At the end of the passageway was the huge chamber that served the Frost Lord as a throne room, and private chamber. The shaggy alabaster pelt of a Northern Snow Dragon lay spread out across the chamber, and the hides of exotic jungle cats and other rare beasts carpeted the floor. Polar's throne was a massive affair of carven mammoth ivory encrusted with rare gems. The sounds of the distant battle wafted through the window on the summer breeze.
"Tog!" 'Lil Rok called. His voice echoed loudly in the spacious chamber. He turned to explore elsewhere, and then stopped in shock. The room wasn't empty after all.
Framed in the chamber door was none other than Polaar himself, clad in his white bearskin, and gold circlet. His indigo gaze bore down on 'Lil Rok.
"So!" said Polaar. "If it isn't the little red-haired whelp come back to save his friends! Well, it's too late for you. But you pose a danger to me nonetheless. I don't know how, but somehow you and your friends are responsible for this attack on my empire, and I will make you pay!"
He advanced menacingly toward 'Lil Rok, but the boy stood his ground. He swung the small green club left and right, whooshing through the air. Then he remembered Tar's words about plunging madly into battle without thinking. And he rembered what the club was for.
Desperately, Rok looked around searching the chamber for some sign of
vegetative life that he might use against this foe. There was none.
Polaar laughed. "You're the chief's
son, aren't you, you little red-haired hyeanodon whelp? That just might make
you a valuable commodity—for bargaining, in case we loose this battle that you
and your sister have somehow caused. I think I'll make you join your friend as
a block of arctic ice!"
"I'm not a whelp!" cried 'Lil Rok in anger. He swung his club. "I'll teach you!"
But Polaar had withdrawn a small shaft of blusih metal from beneath his bearskin robe—the ice wand. He leveled it at 'Lil Rok, preparing to fire. "You certainly have spirit—I'll give you that. Perhaps I could use you—once you are bit older, and with the proper conditioning—but for now—
A red-hot beam of sorcerous energy tore across the room and exploded the head off Polaar's ice-wand. The former chief of the nearly-extinct Frost People sprang back with a yelp of pain.
"No you won't, Polaar. You won't harm the boy. Your reign of terror has ended."-
Polaar and his intended prey looked in direction of the chamber door.
Framed within was Mightor and his magic club. And beside him was Tog, who had miraculously regained his firey breath.
"How did you escape!" raged Polaar helplessly.
Mightor gave him a slight smile of mild amusement. "Let's say my friends got me out." Mightor surged through the air, and seized Polar by his bearskin robe. He flew with him out the chamber window and over and across the conquered lands.
"Lil Rok ran to the window and watched in awed joy.
Tog and Mightor flew over the center of the battle. By now, Polaar's forces were already badly beaten. Most had already retreated back to their native lands. But the few that remained fought on, against the swarming multitudes of their Minutin foes, in the vain hope of appeasing their master Polaar.
But then they looked up. All the warriors, on either side paused to see Mightor and Tog hovering in the air directly overhead. And there was Polaar, the conqueror now a captive of the mightiest warrior of the age.
"It's Mightor!" cried a warrior of the Stone men. "He has returned!"
"Yes!" announced Mightor in his resonant voice. "I have returned, as will you, to your own countries." He held out Polaar for all to see. "Here is your ruler—only he is your ruler no longer. Quit the lands of chief Pondo, and your lives shall be spared. Go away and never return."
And what remained to the United tribes of Polaar broke and ran, never to return.
"Time to take care of you, Polaar." Said Mightor to his captive. He flew Polaar toward the distant mountains of the north.
"I'll be back, Mightor!" Polaar raged. "This isn't over yet!"
"Perhaps, Frost Man," answered Mightor. "but for now I am going to put you back where you belong—so you can do no one further harm."
Mightor left Polar stranded on an icy plateau in his native land. The Mintuans, their work accomplished, disbanded and returned home to their jungle. Polaar's fortress and monument were torn down, and slowly life returned to normal in the village of chief Pondo.
One afternoon, when Sheera, 'Lil Rok and Tor sat talking about their adventure, 'Lil Rok asked," Tor I want to ask you something."
"What's that, 'Lil Rok?"
"How did Mightor get free?"
"I told you. Tog and I found him and got him out."
"But the only way I could break that ice was with that magic club!"
"Well, the ice must have been weaker then."
"Humph!" said Sheera. "You freed Mightor? I find that very hard to believe!"
"Well, stranger things have happened, haven't they, Tog?'
"Reeeunk!" Tog agreed.