Both looked in the direction of the low series of hills and then the one lone spire of rock that was Bors’s destination under the light of Jove’s Eye. He had made a little progress, he realized, for he saw the top of the mountain was rounded and had an odd design his eyes couldn’t discern at first. The name “Consortium” made no sense to Bors. Yet, Rick already looked confused, and though he was trying to stay calm, the Space Ranger looked like he didn’t want to be asked any more questions until they found his mate. Instead, Bors nodded, “That mountain is my destination as well.”

“Something is there,” Rick said.

Bors nodded. “Then your path and mine are joined, Rick Tavish of the Space Rangers. I’ve been tasked to seek the Witch of the Mountain and slay her.” Bors tapped the thick longsword on his back, his hand caressing the pommel for a long moment. The face of the dark-eyed Mother came to him with a blood-soaked smile. He pushed the thoughts away. At least she wished bloodshed. He hoped Tosh was well.

“Did I lose you, Bors?” Rick asked, snapping his fingers in front of Bors’s face. “You seemed to have gone off and away for a moment.”

“Old thoughts,” Bors said with a smirk. “Shall we continue?” He moved forward, eager to reach the mountain and complete his task before Mother grew more impatient.

“I could use some water,” Rick said, looking at the waterskin on Bors’s hip. “If that isn’t too much—”

Before he could finish, Bors pulled the skin free from his belt and tossed it to Rick. “You have proven honorable, and if you wish for a water pact, then so be it.” Let’s see if this ‘civilized man’ knows what I ask for.

“That is when we both drink and make the bond of sharing water and life?” Rick asked. Bors felt a small shock as Rick continued. “Learned about the basics in training. Needed it on Mars . . . well, the Mars of my time. Al’Kara showed me the ritual and was my first . . . water friend is I think what you call them?”

“Who is this woman you speak of? You’ve said her name several times. Is she your betrothed?”

Rick’s face flushed. “No, she’s a friend who . . . She’s a little shorter than me, red skin and milky white hair.”

There was a look in Rick’s eyes that Bors recognized as he spoke of this Al’Kara. He’s in love with her. A disturbing thought came to Bors. “How long were you unconscious, Rick Tavish?”

“I’ve no way of knowing,” Rick said with a shrug. “But the explosion on entry to Callisto couldn’t have been that long ago. Maybe half a day.” He looked around. “Though none of this looks familiar. My ship should be close.” He then checked his wrist. “Yet, I’m still not getting any readings from it.”

Bors let out a pent-up breath. Good. Perhaps this Al’kara is also a captive of this witch.

“She’s also a Golgoro woman of Mars. Maybe you—”

“The Golgoro? They are a myth of Mars,” Bors said with a chuckle.

Rick gave Bors a small smile. “I assure you, she is no myth. What about the Green Martians?”

Bors looked at Rick as though he was simple. “Those are mostly stories to frighten children. The Golgoro never existed. The Hazak were monsters, and they’ve been wiped out.” Saying the name caused a shiver to run down Bors’s spine. He’s crazy. Still, he did remind himself that he had seen the Hazak and dealt with them with Tosh. He pushed the thought aside. They don’t live anymore. This man must be touched in the head. And then another thought came to him. Do you wish to share a water pact with him?

Rick rubbed at his chin. “There is more to this than you would think, but please, we should have a water pact.”

Bors was still surprised by Rick’s words. He felt a small swell of pride and felt more honor for this man. “Yes, you’re right. You know how to begin?”

“Mars was my first assignment, so yes,” Rick said. “And Al’kara helped.” There was a small, longing look he gave to the air before shaking it off. Rick paused, holding the skin with a slight frown.

“Is something wrong?” Bors asked.

“Thinking of Al’Kara. She was with me when we entered Callisto’s atmosphere. Everything after that is hazy. I can only hope she is close by.”

“After the pact, we can look for her,” Bors said. He didn’t know why, yet he felt he had to have a water pact with Rick of the Space Rangers before they could continue forward. He didn’t think it was Mother who whispered it. Something inside him urged Rick to start the pact ceremony. He let out a small sigh when Rick began.

Rick smiled. “I’m sure she would be very angry if I thought she couldn’t handle herself, but I’d appreciate the help, Bors.” He then took a long sip of the water. “May we share water, sweat, and food.”

Bors took the offered waterskin and took a long pull of the water. “And may we bond over blood and salt as well.” He held the skin out to Rick, who took it with a nod.

“So mote it be,” Rick said and took another drink.

He knows the full ceremony. He’s a very strange one. But a good man. I am glad I found him.

“Tell me more of this mission,” Rick asked. “Must you kill this witch?”

Bors saw the flash of concern. “She invaded Callisto, taking a tribe of the Callistian people as her thralls. Making them do things they’d never do using sorcery to ensnare their minds. Such things cannot be done. Killing her will be for the best.”

Rick looked stricken for a moment. “Are you unwell, friend Rick?” Bors asked.

“No,” he said after a long pause, “Taken by their plight is all.”

Bors didn’t like how Rick spoke. There was something untrue in Rick’s words. Something didn’t feel right. They had pacted, and there was something on Rick’s mind, yet he would not share. Bors ignored it and continued with his story as they looked around the small vale. Rick’s color returned as Bors spoke. And Bors was glad to have a traveling companion again.

“I think your friend Al’Kara is not here, Rick Tavish.” Bors said after an hour of fruitless searching.

Crestfallen, Rick nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we will find her on the way to this Witch Mountain.”

Bors nodded, turned, and started to move back toward his goal. It felt good to have someone to travel with, and then Ghurd’s words about “finding his companion on the road to the Mountain” came back to him. At least he was in good company.

* * *

The two found themselves following a meandering, green-tinged river. Rick regarded it with a wary eye, as did Bors. The banks of the river were steep, and as they moved from the valley floor out, the river dropped more and more. Bors didn’t like having the cliff to his right, but it was the only way to navigate through the thick jungle. Rick voiced his own concern.

As Rick spoke, Bors took a sniff of the air, detecting something rank and wrong. He stiffened, throwing a hand back to stop Rick. “Be wary, Rick, there is—”

A shrill, inhuman scream echoed through the woods around them. Thirty of the wizened yellow Callistians bore down on them. Short spears, daggers, razor-sharp claws, and even sharp teeth were brought to bear on the pair. Bors unleashed the Soul of the Mother, cutting down three of them in a single, wide cutting arc. He was about to cut down another pair when a bolt of green shot from Rick’s raygun with a zing to strike at Bors’s intended target.

Bors turned to see that the Space Ranger had pulled a knife with a rounded tip from his boot and was using it to defend himself against the short spears that three of the little creatures used to attack at him. Bors roared, charging heedlessly toward his companion. The barbarian took two spear thrusts in the back for his recklessness. The song of the Soul of the Mother echoed in his ears, and his stamina allowed him to ignore the jabs. The creatures were small, yet their weapons left burning wounds in Bors’s flesh. The stinging felt like gentle touches in the depths of Bors’s fury. Blood trickled down his back. The Soul of the Mother began to sing her song of bloodlust, and it poured into his head and body, bringing new zeal to his fighting. Bors’s mouth opened, and he began to sing along in a deep baritone.

Bors cut down two more creatures while moving closer to Rick. Without a word, Rick spun to one side, pressing his back to Bors’s. The two focused on fending off the remaining creatures. Wave after wave attacked the pair, ending with more and more bodies piled before them. A gang of six pressed in close for a moment, their spears punching through the lines of defense, licking out like serpents to taste the blood of the two men. Then there was a shrill whistle, and they backed off three paces.

“What the—” Rick began.

Sharp stone-tipped spears rained down on them. Most of the missiles missed or scratched their extremities. Neither of them took more than minimal damage. Bors let out an inhuman howl, charging forward toward the jungle. Rick moved alongside him, firing his raygun again and again. Zing zing zing. Flashes of bright green streaked toward the pair’s unseen enemies. The Callistians were no match for them; they’d hoped sheer numbers would be enough. It was not.

Together, Bors and Rick dispatched their attackers with ease. Bors felt his flagging strength and weakness slowing his reactions to a crawl once the last of the Callistians was cut down.

Rick shook his head. “Nasty little beasts. Glad this uniform has a Kevlar base, or I’d have been hurt worse. How did you—”

Bors heard something in the underbrush and turned as the largest Callistian that Bors had ever seen emerged from the forest, some strange device in hand. It fired at Rick, sending a bolt the size of an infant’s arm hurtling toward the Ranger. Bors threw himself in front of his water brother, taking the large bolt through the chest. He pitched backward, stumbling, trying to grab something. His sandaled feet come out from under him as he slipped in the mud, his bulky body slamming backward down the embankment the two had avoided and splashing into the river. And then . . . unconsciousness.