Skylar crouched on the ground, peering out from behind a large boulder to spy on the road. To his relief, he found a steady stream of soldiers still flowing from the tunnel's mouth. He was much closer to the figures than before. The gray shapes of foot soldiers intermixed with artillery transports were easier to distinguish now.

A thin mist had risen, blanketing the black earth, giving the soldiers the appearance of floating above the ground. Not a word did they speak as they marched relentlessly onward, their shadowy forms fading into the night.

Skylar forced himself to think clearly and ignore the eeriness of the scene. He knew that at any moment the stream of soldiers could end and his opportunity would be lost. As silent as a shadow, he moved closer to the tunnel's entrance, skulking from boulder to boulder. The sounds of the soldiers' march grew louder. A narrow ditch ran alongside the road. Dropping to all fours, Skylar left the protection of the boulders and crawled quickly into the ditch. He waited.

He knew he would have but one chance. There was no room for hesitation or mistake.

The feet of soldiers passed by just above his head. So close he could have reached up and grabbed at their ankles. They continued to stream from the tunnel. Had he missed his opportunity? He began to fear that his plan had failed scarcely before it began.

Then he saw it. The oversized wheels of on an artillery transport rolled out from the tunnel's mouth, moving with exaggerated slowness.

"Almost there," whispered Skylar. "Almost there."

As soon as the front wheel passed by Skylar's head, he pitched himself laterally from the ditch onto the road and rolled beneath the transport just in time to avoid getting crushed by the back wheel. Groping frantically in the dark, Skylar searched for something to hold onto on the undercarriage of the vehicle before it passed over him. It seemed to be moving swifter now. He thrust out his hands, heedless of the scrapes and bruises he was inflicting on them. At last, near the rear of the vehicle, he felt an opening to a rectangular cavity with a narrow ledge running along all four sides. With some effort, he squeezed himself into the cramped space. Skylar exhaled a sigh of relief. He had made it.

The artillery vehicle rumbled along. If he had not been so uncomfortably packed into that steel cavity, Skylar might have fallen asleep. Tired as he was, the rhythmic sounds of the vehicle's engine and the crunch of gravel under its wheels were lulling. Occasionally, however, the wheels would hit a hole in the road, jolting the vehicle, and send Skylar's head banging against the steel walls, knocking any sleep out of him.

After an interminable length of time, Skylar sensed that they were drawing near the city. The sounds of gravel were replaced by a humming, and the ride became smoother. They were driving on stone. The hint of amber lights began to reflect off the gray stone and find its way to his green eyes. They were coming into Dura Cragis.

Soon, Skylar felt the vehicle turn. Fewer lights illuminated the stone streets now. And the sounds of soldiers' boots marching on the hard stone grew fainter.

The soldiers must be heading in a different direction. He continued to listen, straining his ears to make sense of every noise he heard. No, he was sure. The soldiers were moving away, or the vehicle was moving away from them.

When the vehicle finally stopped for a moment, Skylar ventured to poke his head out from his hiding spot. Seeing no boots standing near, he let himself down onto the street, crawled to the edge of the vehicle, made one final glance around, then dashed into the shadows of an alleyway.

Cautiously, Skylar navigated through the streets, keeping to the shadows and alleyways as much as possible. He found the streets mostly deserted as he moved deeper into the city. Occasionally, a stray clump of soldiers, or a wary townsman hurrying timidly along would pass him, but that was all. Skylar shivered as he made his way, though not from cold. Fear permeated the air. Just as he had felt it in the streets of Amrahdel.

The citadel was the only place he knew to look for Grim. If the guards had arrested him, they likely would have taken him to the citadel's holding cells. How he would steal into that stronghold, once he found it, he had no idea. He only knew that he must find a way.

As yet, the citadel had not come into view. He had seen the formidable structure when he and the companions stood within the protection of the trees. He only knew that it stood at the rear of the city.

But he had little doubt that it would be well guarded, with virtually no way inside but through the main gates.

He quickened his pace.

A sudden burst of laughter made Skylar start. It came from behind. Skylar did not turn around, but kept walking. More laughter, followed by loud, slurred speech. Drunken soldiers. Skylar prayed they would pay him no attention. He increased his pace.

"Hey...you there!" shouted one of the voices from behind. "Come 'ere."

Skylar's heart stopped midbeat. The soldier's words were nearly unintelligible, but Skylar knew what he had said. He acted as if he didn't hear and kept on his way, hoping they would leave him alone.

"Hey," shouted the voice, cracking as a hiccup caught the word. "Come 'ere I say or I'll shoot ya."

Skylar halted in his tracks. What to do? He could easily outrun the inebriated lout. But if he started shooting? Too many soldiers were in the city to risk such a scene. Reluctantly, he turned to face two soldiers staggering toward him with maladroit steps. A pathetic sight.

"That's better," slurred out the one. "Now," he continued, close enough that Skylar could smell the suffocating odor of alcohol on his breath. "You're gonna lend us a hand."

The soldier paused as he tipped to one side, nearly toppling to the ground.

"See this here suit I a wear'n?" He banged his limp hands against the armored breastplate. "Off, I say. Too blazing hot. And you's a gonna do it. Ya hear?"

The soldier shot a gloved finger at Skylar's chest, but missed and only stabbed the air in front of him. Then he collapsed to the ground, with his torso still vertical, swaying back and forth.

"Get on with it," ordered the soldier. "Off, I say. Off!"

Starting with the soldier's breastplate, Skylar searched for a means of removing the protective suit. Finding some latches along the seam, where the front and back met on the sides, he began working to unfasten them. His fingers trembled, making the job more difficult.

An unexpected thud, followed by a throaty groan, made Skylar look up from his toiling. Lying on the ground, limbs splayed out in every direction, was the other soldier. The soldier Skylar was helping laughed at his comrade and muttered something incomprehensible.

"Get on with it," he blurt out between slurred mumbling.

Skylar finally managed to remove the upper portion of the soldier's suit. With a groan of his own, he realized what a challenge the lower half of the suit would be. Before he could begin the odious task, however, the soldier fell back onto the ground and almost immediately commenced snoring raucously.

Skylar froze. If the soldier just stayed asleep, he could escape. Quietly, he turned and tiptoed away. A few meters away from the unconscious soldiers, he halted. An idea came into his mind. A sly smile crossed his lips. Glancing around to ensure he wasn't being watched, he returned to the soldier and, as gently as possible, worked to finish the job of removing the suit.

Skylar felt clumsy and uncomfortable in the armored suit. It did not fit him well. But it would have to do. He labored under the weight of it, climbing the countless steps at the citadel's foot, attempting to appear as confident and official as he could muster.

A black-tinted visor and helmet, which the drunken soldier had cast to the street, disguised his face. He also carried the soldier's blaster. Except for his awkward gait and the jetwing hanging from his belt, he looked indistinguishable from the other soldiers. Though he might have been wise to hide his jetwing in the alleyway where he hid his clothes, he could not bring himself to leave it behind.

Perspiration seeped profusely from his skin by the time he gained the top of the stairs. Heavy stone doors, flanked by two guards stood before him. Tentatively, he advanced toward the doors, hoping the guards would let him pass without interrogation or having to divulge some password he didn't know.

"It's about time you showed up," said the rightmost guard. "I was beginning to think we would have to stand here all night. Here's the keycard for the doors."

The guard held out a thin, rectangular object. Skylar took it, and fumbled to keep from dropping it with his oversized glove protecting his hands.

"Enjoy the night," said the guard mockingly, then started down the steps.

"What's this!" called out the second guard. "What about me? There were supposed to be two of you. Where's the other guard?"

"Uh," stammered Skylar, trying to make his voice sound deeper than it was. "I haven't seen him."

"Haven't seen him!" The guard threw his arms up. "Where is that lazily―"

"No doubt he'll be along soon," said the first guard, still on the steps. "Come on. That fellow can handle things until the other arrives. Come on."

The second guard looked around, as if to check if anyone was watching.

"Alright then," he said.

Skylar watched the two soldiers as they descended the stairs and then vanished into the city.

That was much too easy.

Taking the keycard, he located a thin vertical slot on the side of the door and inserted it. With surprising speed, the two stone doors parted. Skylar stepped inside, and the doors closed swiftly behind him.

He stood in a huge open hall with polished stone floors and high ceiling. Another stairway stood at the far end of the hall, granting access to an upper-level walkway which ran the four walls of the room. Only a few dim lights provided visibility in the whole hall, so that it was almost as dark inside as the night outside.

Skylar neither saw nor heard any sign of other people. Nor did he see any clear direction to begin his search for Grim. Numerous corridors led from the hall in all directions, with no indication as to where they led.

"Which way to go?" said Skylar to himself, as he surveyed his surroundings. He feared standing there too long. If anyone saw him, he wanted to appear as though he were about some important business. "If only there were a map of this place..."

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a monotone voice sounded in his ear.

"Activating map. Current location: Dura Cragis Citadel, entrance hall, level one."

The inner visor of his helmet illuminated with the soft green glow of a map projected on the right-side of his field of vision. A tiny red dot blinked on one portion of it. He guessed the dot indicated his position in the building. A few other dots came to life, scattered about the projection: other guards, most likely.

"Where are the holding cells?" asked Skylar.

"Holding cells," repeated the voice.

The projected map moved up and another illuminated below it. "Lower level," read the label of the second map. A rectangular section of it flashed white. Then a thin dotted line traced a path for him to follow. It led to what appeared to be stairs.

Ensuring that no guards showed along the route, he set off down the second corridor to his left. He walked as swiftly as he dared, which felt painfully slow, as he attempted to minimize the echo of his boots on the stone floor. As yet, no other guards appeared anywhere near him on the map. Still, he wished to avoid attracting any of their attention. Though dressed as a soldier, he had no legitimate excuse for his presence there.

After several turns down other corridors, he finally came to a dark, narrow stairwell leading down. He checked the map again. Still clear. He descended the stairs.

There were no guards on duty around the holding cells. Either some careless soldier was slacking off, or else it was considered unnecessary. Four cells comprised the entire prison unit of the citadel. Doubtless a larger prison or dungeon existed elsewhere in the city for extended imprisonment.

Grim sat on a stone bed, his head bent low. Three solid stone walls and one of glass fifteen centimeters in thickness comprised his cramped cell. The other three cells were empty. Grim did not look up as Skylar approached.

Skylar immediately went to work searching for means to open Grim's cell. He found nothing. No hinges, seams, or anything to indicate how to get in. He ran his gloved hand along the portion of the stone separating Grim's cell from the next. It was perfectly smooth. No hidden keypads or key slots. Nothing. How do you―

An idea suddenly came to him.

"Open cell number one," he said aloud.

"Opening cell number one," responded the voice in his helmet.

The entire glass wall of the far cell from Grim's slid up into the ceiling.

"Close cell number one," he ordered. "Open cell number four."

The voice repeated the command. Immediately Grim's glass wall retracted into the ceiling. For the first time, Grim looked up, but all he saw was an imperial soldier standing at the threshold.

"Are you just going to sit there," said Skylar, "Or do you want to leave?"

Grim regarded him quizzically.

"Who are you?"

Skylar tore off the helmet.

"Skylar! What are you doing here?" Grim's entire being was full of astonishment and concern.

"I came to save my friend, of course. Now come on, let's leave here while we can."

Grim was on his feet in an instant, striding out of the cell.

"You should not have come," said Grim as swiftly they made their way toward the stairwell. "You have put yourself in grave danger."

Skylar only partially heard Grim. His thoughts were busy considering their escape from the citadel. Had the real guards finally appeared for duty at the gates? Would they think anything of Grim leaving with another soldier? Other Guards...

Just before they mounted the stairs, Skylar paused.

"Wait," he said, stuffing his head back into his helmet. He scanned the map, and found the red dot that indicated his location. He gasped. There were three other dots heading directly for the stairwell from the first level.

"What is it?"

"Guards are heading for the stairs. We must hide."

Skylar whirled around, looking for a hiding place.

"And where will you hide with that locator in your suit?" Grim had Skylar by the arm and was moving him back toward the holding cell. "You must put me back in the cell and pretend to be my guard."

"Back!" said Skylar.

"Yes, my prince. Hurry."

Skylar hated the idea of putting his liberated friend back in the cell. He knew Grim was right, though. There was no other option.

Letting go of Skylar's arm, Grim dashed into cell number four, and resumed his previous pose on the stone bed.

"Close cell number four," commanded Skylar.

The glass wall slid back into place, trapping in Grim just as before. Loud clanking footsteps began to echo from the stairwell. Skylar turned in time to see several pairs of armored boots descending the steps. He took his blaster in both hands and straightened his stance, attempting to appear like a guard on duty. The three soldiers reached the bottom of the stairwell and marched forward, official purpose powering every rigid step.

Against hope, Skylar prayed they were on some other errand, anything but orders related to Grim.

"Walk past. Walk past," Skylar repeated under his breath, like one casting a spell.

It was no use. The three guards were walking directly toward him, toward Grim's cell.

"What are you doing down here?" demanded the foremost guard. Unlike any of the guards Skylar had encountered, this one wore a suit striped with three red lines around the upper arm. A mark of higher rank. "Forgotten, most likely. Just as you seem to have forgotten how to salute your superiors."

"Oh," stammered Skylar, who fumbled with his blaster before bringing his right arm across his chest in salute. "Sorry, Sir."

"I asked you what your business was down here, soldier," growled the officer, planting himself uncomfortably close to Skylar.

"Guarding the prisoner, sir."

"By whose orders?" hissed the officer.

"Uh, Captain..." Skylar hesitated, hunting his brain for a name that sounded reasonable. "Captain―"

"Oh, never mind," snapped the officer. "Whoever it was he knew what he was doing. This prisoner needs about as much guarding as our army needs incompetents like you. Get out of my way."

The officer shouldered Skylar aside, then issued the voice command to open Grim's cell. "You two," he said, signaling to the guards standing behind him. "Bring the prisoner with us."

The guards hustled into the cell, their suits clanking with their swift movement. They grabbed Grim by the arms and hauled him up and out of the cell. Grim put up no resistance, but came along calmly, head held high. He did not look at Skylar when he passed. Skylar wished he had. A nod, a wink, a raised eyebrow―anything. Some kind of a sign that Grim had a plan to get away.

"You will follow us," ordered the officer to Skylar. "I don't want you to go sneaking off to guard something else which needs no guarding."

Obediently, Skylar fell in behind Grim and the guards. The officer then led them up the stairs.

Suddenly an idea struck him. It was too easy. No possible way it could fail. They would be rid of the guards and the snarly officer. Then he and Grim could make a run for it. Surely they could reach the citadel's front steps before any other guard discovered the bodies. It was too easy.

Skylar gripped the blaster in his hands, these thoughts swirling in his mind. There were only three. He could shoot all three before any of them knew what was happening. All he had to do was shoot.

He hesitated. Could he kill three men? If he didn't, they might kill Grim. He had seen the wickedness the king's soldiers were capable of. Did they not deserve death? Were they not all serving a king that had betrayed and killed his parents?

Skylar lifted the blaster and leveled it at the first guard.

Could he do it? Should he do it? Thoughts began to pour in. Perhaps these men have families: wives and hungry little children. They, at least, have parents of their own; friends; people who care about them. No one is that evil. Is it the soldiers' fault they serve a traitorous king? Can they know what he really is? Can I kill another man?

Grim. I must save Grim.

He put his finger to the trigger.

It is a weapon only of evil. The words of Krom suddenly entered his mind. They struck with great force.

Slowly, he lowered the accursed weapon and bowed his head.

I can't do it.

He was only vaguely aware that they had halted in front of a door. The officer inserted a keycard into a slot near the door and the door slid open. All five entered and the door closed ominously behind them.