The sky was clear, at least, and the circular takeoff area had been cleared out of the surrounding forests in at least a hundred-meter diameter around the flyer. But Alielle's nerves were singing as the final preflight checklist was being completed. Makoto, Dr. Stalubaugh, and the rest of the royal entourage were watching from a position on the edge of the clearing, and the fact that their observation area had been heavily insulated against the possibility of an explosion was not exactly helping to calm her.

She looked over at the shielded dome once again, and her mind insisted on making a perfect memory out of everyone's faces, lest it be the last time she saw them. There was Makoto, smiling and waving at her as though she'd just gone off for an afternoon stroll; Dr. Stalubaugh engrossed in some final calculations, glancing up at her every once in a while and nodding about something to himself; Nanami and Rune Venus holding Fatora back from clawing at the triple-paned glass and demanding to be let out. Alielle sighed. It was always good to know that she was truly loved, but she wished that sometimes Fatora wouldn't make such a show of it. It seemed too selfish, somehow.

Alielle waited for one more second, then turned back to her displays and forced herself to concentrate. It wouldn't do anyone any good for her to be distracted at this critical juncture, and she fixated on the small countdown timer that was slowly blinking down to the time when she was supposed to launch.

The mechanics swarming around the flyer like worker bees disconnected what seemed like dozens of hoses and cables, shut off the valves, and double-checked all the external telltales. Once everything was greenlighted, the field master held up his red baton until everyone else had left the field.

As soon as the last engineer had stepped off the clearing into the mechanic's tent, the field master moved his baton down so that it was level with the field, and Alielle took one deep breath before she pushed in the pedal on her left hand side, the as Makoto had called it, and pressed the big red button on her panel marked .

****

I can't believe she'd do something like this to me, Fatora said plainly. She had finally calmed down after Rune had threatened to make her the head of the diplomatic envoy to Laideen, the northernmost and most fridgid allied nation.

Oh, knock it off, Nanami demanded, Alielle's old enough to be able to, hey, wait a minute. Just how old is she?

Fatora blushed ever so slightly. I, uh, I mean, that's none of your business! And besides, I'd be just as concerned for the safety of whoever was going to test that thing, whether they happened to be my lover or not.

She crossed her arms and looked back out through the glass, and Nanami fumed. But her reply was cut short by Dr. Stalubaugh.

Quiet, all of you! She's about to take off.

****

The design of the cockpit was a work of last-minute inspiration, adaptation of current technologies, and brutal necessity. Instead of the standard dual sensory control pads, there was only one for the left hand. It of course had twice as many controls on it, and it had been a challenge to design one that wouldn't be too large for Alielle's small hands to use. Directly in front of here were direction, altitude, fuel level and temperature gauges, and two dozen different buttons and dials that regulated them. And, strangest of all, on her right hand side was the gear shift. The numbers on top of it had been covered with standard Roshtarian digits, but the large that stood out on it's own line separate from the H pattern was still there.

Makoto had tried to explain all the technical reasons why they couldn't build a jet engine that could go in reverse yet, and they hadn't dared try to modify the transmission from the Mustang any more than they absolutely had to. But before he'd had a chance to get started on another lecture, she'd knocked him in the head to stop. So he had simply warned her not to use reverse. It should be unnecessary in any event, since it would almost certainly be faster to simply turn the flyer around than wait for it to pick up the reverse gear, but the consequences could be -colorful, was the word he had used- if she were to use it accidentally.

The START button was the ignition for the engine, and it roared to life with reassuring ease when she pulled her finger from the panel and moved it to the big green one marked SAIL. This one activated the dual sails on either side of her, and when she pressed it a more familiar whine filled the cockpit momentarily as energy was pumped into the sails.

An opaque white sheet moved across the empty frames to fill them, and when it did the flyer began to lift off the ground. Slowly, at first, as Alielle had set the power to it's lowest levels, but after the first ten seconds in the air with no malfunctions, she notched the power higher, and the flyer moved upwards with surprising ease. She reached the top of the trees, and glanced out over the forest quickly.

It was gorgeous. There was something especially exciting about being just above the tree line, staring out over the seemingly endless forest, and she savored this moment before the first slight sense of vertigo set itself in her stomach. Her seat was firm beneath her, but the knowledge that it wasn't attached to anything but this cockpit and two fragile sails turned her earlier nervousness into outright panic, but as soon as it had threatened to take over her senses she forced it back. There was too much riding on this flight to loose it all to a sudden fear like this, and she took a few more deep breaths before she was sure she'd banished it.

Instead, she concentrated on the sounds of the engine as it idled gently, the breeze as it whipped past her cockpit, and her own heart as it slowed and stopped thumping in her ears like a war drum. Then she moved her hand to the gear shift, and pushed it up into first gear.

It clinked smoothly, and she silently thanked John's attention to detail as she gradually reduced her pressure on the clutch. The pedal came back two centimeters, then three, until she felt the transmission begin to grab. Immediately the sound of the jet engine beginning to spin up assailed her ears; they hadn't told her it would be this loud in here! Then her right foot depressed the gas pedal, and the engine monitor noted the increase in RPMs obediently as she moved the pedals back and forth with the timing of a race car driver.

****

It looks as though the sail's geometry was designed perfectly, Dr. Stalubaugh said in a complementary tone, and Makoto examined the hard data on his pad before looking up at the flyer, which was now easing it's way out of the landing area.

Yeah, I just hope that the pressure in the coolant system isn't too much for that radiator to handle. Instead of thanking the doctor for his praise, Makoto seemed intent on criticizing his own work. Nanami noticed the edge of nervousness in his voice, and she put her hand on his shoulder.

I think everything'll be just fine, she said reassuringly. Makoto looked at her and smiled sadly, then went back to double-checking his data.

****

The flyer was now moving forward at a good clip, almost up to a quarter the speed of an average cruiser. Alielle let her left foot up until the clutch stopped moving, and then pressed the gas down harder. The jet engine was definitely moving air now, and as the American 289 V8 climbed it's RPMs she began to coast forward faster and faster. She kept the gas pedal in until the gauges all told her to change gears, and then she pushed the clutch in all the way again and put the shifter in second gear.

When she took it away the second time the flyer leapt ahead as the Mustang's prime acceleration gear took hold, and the trees below her began to pass by much more quickly. The jet engine was gulping air now with a great appetite, and Alielle relished in the adrenaline rush of speed she was feeling until a beeping indicator told her that she was beginning to leave the approved testing area.

Gingerly she manipulated the control in her left hand to bank the flyer to the left, and pulled the nose around in an arc. As soon as the indicator stopped blinking she leveled out slightly, and began to circle around the small clearing, and then moved into third gear.

One of the gauges in her cluster dropped abruptly, and Alielle was pressed back into her seat as the V8 found it's optimum torque range once more. The treetops were rushing by her canopy now with surprising speed, and she let out a whoop of excitement as the engine topped out again, and she put it into fourth gear. Her altimeter had held steady for most of the flight, but her speed gauge reported that she was now moving more than three times as fast as the fastest Caravan could manage, and almost half again faster than their smallest scout craft! Her eyes went wide as the speedometer continued to climb, then another red light began to blink.

She'd reached the red line of the Mustang engine, and her attention turned to the temperature sensor. But everything was still within operating limits, and she eased off the gas pedal slightly and let the engine hang at 4,000 RPMs.

****

Dr. Stalubaugh nodded to himself, and said absentmindedly, She should be reaching her maximum speed right about this time. All of our spotters have reported that there seem to be no troubles with the craft.

Makoto and Fatora's shoulders sagged in unison and they let out a deep breath as each of them felt their own kind of relief at the news. Then they realized what they'd just done, and spun around, and Makoto busied himself with his pad again as Fatora turned to look furtively out the window.

****

This was more thrilling, in it's own way, than anything Alielle had ever experienced, and she had yet to come anywhere close to the flyer's maximum altitude! But she wasn't supposed to test that out until they were sure that her first flight had gone perfectly, and so after what seemed like hours of flying her wide circle around the test site she depressed the clutch, and put the engine back into third gear.

At once she began to slow down, and the sails strained as they took more of the stress of keeping the flyer in the air. She'd been told to slow down as gradually as she could manage, and so it was fifteen minutes later that she finally brought the nose around hard and headed straight for the clearing, the V8 and the jet engine idling softly. As soon as she was over the clearing Alielle pulled up hard on the controls, and the flyer bled the last of it's forward momentum before she gradually let the sails out.

The flyer dipped down slowly, the landing skids deployed, and it came to rest gently on it's haunches as the last bit of energy left the sails. They went back to being empty frames, and Alielle slid open a small panel and pressed the kill switch. The engine shut off abruptly, and she undid her safety restraints and grabbed the latch for the cockpit with two shaking hands, and pulled it open to greet the sea of smiling faces and cheers that had filled the landing area.

****

Twelve thousand, seven hundred seventy-five. Give or take a few.

This was the most depressing number Jinnai had ever seen, for by his own math it represented the entirety of the Bugrom race. Or, less than one sixth of the current Roshtarian Army, as far as his scouts and the Phantom Tribe had been able to estimate. Of course, the exchange rate in the last war had been so drastically skewed that Jinnai could have counted on defeating the Alliance handily with as little as a tenth of their strength in numbers. But he didn't like the reports of the new weapons they were using, and the wilder rumors about some sort of aircraft being developed made him more uneasy than he would care to admit.

But he still had two very important advantages, and they might just be enough to win him his first few victories. The first was total surprise. Since the Alliance hadn't even gotten close to finding his new base or the tunnels yet, he could count on being able to strike wherever, whenever he wanted, and despite their size the Royal Army would almost certainly be understrength if he chose a few of their less well-protected targets to attack first. Oh, he could nibble at their heels, kill a few hundred soldiers at a time and gradually eat away at their moral and manpower, but that kind of attritional warfare could only end badly for the Bugrom. The longer they took to crush Roshtaria, the longer Roshtaria had to crush them, and if he used the bulk of his force for the attacks, then his base would by necessity be open to attack if it were to be discovered.

The second advantage was the Phantom Tribe, at least for now. They could make sure that his base stayed hidden, even if the Roshtarians were standing right on top of it. But while they displayed total confidence in their ability to do anything Jinnai asked, he knew that some of them were nervous about the American boy and what he might be doing at the heretic Temple. As far as Jinnai was concerned Makoto had brought him back from earth to command the new Royal Army, which was just one more in a long list of reasons to get rid of Mizuhara once and for all. But if that was true, why was he spending all his time with the harpies, instead of the military troops?

No, something was definitely going on, and that made it time to plan the next phase of his strategy. he yelled at his perpetual right-hand bug, go get that kid, Nahato. Bring him to the War Room, and make sure you stay with him all the way over here. I want you there too, so I don't have to explain all this ten times to the rest of the troops.

Groucho mumbled his response, then left at a run, and Jinnai worked his way through the confusion that still permeated the central hive, which was made easier by the fact that the Bugrom nearly fell over themselves to clear a path for him. He stepped into the throne room, and looked up at Diva, who was resting on her perch.

The time has come, Diva, Jinnai proclaimed loudly, we must now convince the Alliance that our strength is unopposable and their domination inevitable. The second phase is now in full swing, and soon we will crush the...

That's wonderful, Jinnai, Diva interrupted him, her tone flat and bored, but do you really need me to watch you plan this out?

Jinnai facefaulted. Diva had been moody as of late, as the strain of nearly constant reproduction took it's toll on her body and soul. And while she clearly had no great mind for battle strategy, Jinnai had savored her total support for his decisions at every turn. It was part and parcel of what made him so totally confident in himself, but it was getting harder to make their relationship seem normal in front of the Bugrom hordes as she grew more weary by the day.

I, uh, well, it's... he fumbled.

Then leave me rest, Diva finished. She pushed herself heavily off of her throne, and walked out without so much as glancing at him. Jinnai watched her go as an uneasy lump developed in his stomach. For years, their shared goal had been the total conquest of El Hazard, but after the emotional devastation of loosing what had been -for all intents and purposes- her entire civilization, and the pain of being the only person who could rebuild it, the weight on her shoulders was greater than anyone should have to bear alone.

And she was alone, in that sense, for while she needed Jinnai in order to reestablish the Bugrom race, his sole interest was in defeating the Alliance. While that had been more than enough reason to keep him around in the beginning, his near total lack of interest in her welfare beyond her ability to produce more warriors made her task a lonely one, and she was beginning to wonder if a future as the ruler over all the world would be worth it if she had to share it with him.

Diva walked through the hallways without looking at anyone else, and her mind was busy. Jinnai didn't know the truth of the Bugrom's existence because Diva knew it wouldn't have made a bit of difference to him. He didn't know that the Bugrom had once been enslaved by the ancients of El Hazard, the perfect worker race that had built the greatest buildings and weapons of their age. He didn't know that Diva -as a precursor to the development of the Demon Gods- had been genetically engineered to be their the unthreatening human-like link between the Bugrom slave hordes and their masters.

He didn't know that she would live forever while he grew old and withered, with the consequences of their shared actions her only permanent companion. Or that when the ancients engaged in that great massive slaughter known as the Holy Wars, Diva herself had led what Bugrom she could save across the River of God, and built an army to take the lands from her war-ravaged creators.

But while she commanded the undying loyalty of her race, she'd discovered early on that she simply had no talent for military operations. Despite all the advantages she had over the remnants of the ancients, she had been unable to overthrow them. So through the ages she had waited, clinging to the scraps of legend that the ancients had written before their demise, praying for the day when a great leader would come to bring them to their final victory. And while Roshtaria had lost most of it's history to the Holy Wars, along with the knowledge that they had spawned their greatest enemies, their own legends told of a race steeped in hatred and revenge against all of El Hazard, whom the sage, prophet and Great Priest Karali Wren had warned would return one day to conquer them.

She wanted revenge. She wanted all the humans in El Hazard to pay for the horrors race had been forced to endure for centuries. And she knew that Jinnai was her best chance to get it, but one of the problems with the Holy Wars was that it had left precious few ancients alive, and by this point it was their descendants that populated the nations of the Alliance. She could no longer make the scientists and politicians that had ordered her creation fear her, and it depressed her to know that the thousands of soldiers her troops had killed didn't even realize the significance of their deaths, or the events that surrounded them.

The Bugrom, Jinnai, the Phantom Tribe, and all of Roshtaria were being swept along the currents of history. No one knew yet where it would end, but for the first time in her thousands of years as Queen, Diva was afraid of the future.

****

I'm glad you came to see me, Afura. I was beginning to think I'd scared you off completely.

Afura smiled at John, and said, Well, everyone else back home was beginning to wonder what was going on out here.

Oh, and I'm sure you weren't curious at all yourself? John asked in his best sarcastic voice.

Afura's cheeks heated slightly. I guess, I suppose I was. You have to understand that this whole situation is very unusual, and that Cerin... her voice trailed off.

John was puzzled. What about her?

For one, she entered her training at a, late, age, Afura began carefully. They were sitting on the patio dining area of the Temple Home, overlooking a vast stretch of forest and plains with the small city of Yost nestled against the mesa that the Temple rested on. The sun was setting, which also had the effect of making their view very romantic. John nodded for her to continue.

So she always seemed like she knew more about the outside world than the rest of us ever would, at least when it came to things like dating, she finished awkwardly.

Ah hah, said John helpfully. You know, I was always kind of clumsy with that sort of thing myself.

Afura looked at him. But, you seemed so confident that day on Mt. Muldoon, when you asked me to come with you to Mr. Fujisawa's ceremony, that, I thought...

You thought I knew what I was doing? John asked incredulously. That'll be the day. Ha! I was never more nervous in my life than when I asked you out. I'm just really good at hiding it.

I should say so, Afura replied, you had me totally fooled. So how are you coming along?

John made a face. Yesterday I sucked all the light out of the Temple and flooded the valley with it. Some old men who were out late complained of being blinded. The villagers down there have to be confused beyond belief.

Afura giggled, and John replied indignantly, Hey, that makes it real hard to get anything done down there in my time off! They all know I'm responsible whenever this sort of thing happens, so I can't walk down the street without scaring off little kids.

This only made Afura laugh harder, and John found it difficult to be angry with her for making light of his situation. Somehow, and despite her reputation with the rest of the Seminary for aloofness -not to mention the first stormy month when she was mentoring him-, she made him feel like all of his problems with being forced into a new dimension didn't matter that much anymore. John couldn't have described it to you if you'd asked him to, he just knew he was a happier person whenever Afura was around him.

And, though she'd never admit it, at least not yet, Afura was happier than she had been in years. As soon as she stopped laughing she said, I didn't think you'd be getting enough time off from studying for that to matter much.

John made a throwaway gesture with his hand. Oh, well, Mor- I mean, Headmistress Moram thinks it's important for me to build up to this gradually. Those first weeks went by in a whirlwind, forgive the pun, and ever since I got here I've realized just how hard you all had to train to get where you are. It makes me feel kind of guilty, for just being able to do it without thinking.

Afura leaned across the table and put a hand on his arm. Don't worry about it. You're from earth, so people will expect you to be different that way. Makoto, Nanami, and Mr. Fujisawa are leading perfectly normal lives now.

said John, minus the Great War Hero' bit. I've never felt comfortable with being too popular, or at least I never really liked those people who were.

Oh I think you'll get used to it, Afura said.

He set his own hand on hers, and they looked deep into each other's eyes. And as the light of the setting sun cast it's last rays upon the scene and they bent closer to each other...

Cerin walked right up to their table and sat her food down with a CLANG! that sent John right out of his seat. Oh, there you are, John! she said nonchalantly, I wondered if you'd finally tired of taking your breaks in that dreary little mountain village. Oh, hello, Afura.

Her intrusion was so obviously designed to break the two of them up that for a few seconds neither John nor Afura quite knew how to respond. It was John that finally broke the silence.

he began.

You need to work on calling the light, which is why I decided to wait until dark to start our next lesson. I just needed to grab a quick bite to eat before hand, but we should really get going soon. Cerin stuffed a bit of fried vegetable into her mouth, then turned to address Afura. How long are you going to be hanging around?

The naked contempt in her tone was too much for Afura to take sitting down, and her eyes flashed with a brilliant spark of hatred. All around them, the winds began to pick up, tossing the first few fallen leaves of autumn around their table carelessly.

We were having a conversation, Afura said levelly, her voice carrying an eerie echo in the wind, and I don't recall inviting you to join us.

Cerin smiled grimly and swallowed her food. She hadn't realized that it would be this easy to provoke the seemingly unflappable Afura Mann, but she'd gotten right under her skin through her one, relatively new, weakness; John. Mother Moram specifically instructed me to spend as much time as I could with John while he's here, including meals. If you think that arrangement should be altered, then I'm sure you could talk to her yourself.

John tried again to interject.

I seriously doubt that she intended you to meddle in his personal affairs, too, Afura continued, ignoring him.

Cerin stood up, and Afura followed her so quickly that it looked like they had timed it together. Each of them wore a predator's grin as various other acolytes and priestesses finally took notice of what was unfolding before them, and people began to gather around in anticipation of the coming fight.

Stop it! John yelled at them, but they were focusing so intently on each other that they couldn't hear anyone else. For a split second there was perfect stillness. Then Afura spoke again.

You've always been too prideful for your own good, she said in that same iron voice, and now you're finally going to be sorry for it.

It's really too bad, Cerin replied, you were once the pride of the Seminary; top job on Muldoon, greatest windbag in our history. I just know your mommy would be proud if she could see you now, ready to brawl like a common street hustler.

I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty, if that's what it takes to keep your nose out of my business!

Despite the risks to innocent bystanders, both priestesses began to gather, and had nearly let loose their first attack before something totally unexpected got in the way.

That's ENOUGH! John cried out, and stood up between them. For a split second Afura and Cerin feared that he might be caught in between them, but his hands shot out in both their directions, and a human-sized tidal wave bore out and knocked them off their feet before they could finish casting.

There was stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity, and then John spoke slowly. Both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You, Cerin, for provoking Afura, and you, Afura, for allowing yourself to be provoked that way. I'm not even gonna TRY and sort this one out; you're going to have to deal with it like the priestesses you are, and not some four year-olds fighting over a toy.

Both women could only stare in shock, drenched in freezing cold water, as John turned around quickly and left them to the crowds that had closed them in.