Jason had borrowed a dark salmon hued jacket from Medgwin before he walked out into the cool morning air to perform tai chi chuan and meditate, but he removed it after he began chopping kindling. Still dressed in his black jeans and black sleeveless tee-shirt, he had not even begun to work up a sweat.

It was so early that only one of the solar disks was completely up above the horizon, heralding the morning of their fourth day here, wherever "here" was. Billy had interpreted one of the words to sound like "Zair" in English, though Jason's wrist communicator insisted on translating those same sounds as the word "Earth" in his head.

"This telepathic translation business is a bit tricky," Jason thought as he swung the axe down to hit lengthwise on a small log, splitting it cleanly down the center. "But I think I'm getting the hang of it. Perhaps 'telepathic' is not exactly the correct term, since I can't hear other people's thoughts, but only how their spoken words have an approximate meaning in English. I'll have to remember to ask the Professor what the precise term is, and how it works, when I'm in the mood for another long lecture on practical applications of Aquitian technology."

He rested for a moment, watching as the second yellow sun started to peek up over the horizon, remembering the conversations Billy and he had held the last two evenings, in which they had reviewed their options, which were few, and considered why it was taking their teammates so long to locate them.

"I could almost be enjoying this break, if I could just be certain that Zordon knew where we were and that we would be going home soon." Jason's thought patterns were already going around and around in what had become familiar and well traveled ruts, like a caged squirrel in an exercise wheel. He tried to redirect his thinking into a more positive mode. "But Billy is getting somewhat stronger, the food's good and plentiful, and the work is physical."

He idly watched a patch of dust rise above the treetops, then put the axe down as he realized the dust cloud was coming down the lane toward him. He pulled on Medgwin's jacket as a chill, not related to the early morning temperature, swept over him.

Medgwin and his younger brother Medgar came out of the house, followed by Medgwin's young daughter, Meglara, and his wife, Mugdower.

Jason tried out his tentative Zairian. "Who comes?" Understanding the language had become fairly simple. Speaking it was a completely different situation.

"I don't know," said Medgwin, somewhat gruffly. "But company is always suspect."

Jason smiled inwardly at the comment. His and Billy's arrival had not been met by open arms, but with the extended prongs of a pitchfork.

A troop of half a dozen men on horses were riding slowly up the lane that led to the log house. The horses, like their riders, tended to be on the shorter, stockier side, almost more like ponies, with long, shaggy gray coats.

Jason surmised the riders to be law enforcement officers, or soldiers of some kind. They appeared to be in uniforms, all dressed alike in the same russet color, with no variable hues such as the farmers' clothes displayed. Close fitting leather helmets covered most of their heads, curving around to leave the ears exposed. On most of the riders, small single plumes of magenta feathers stood upright from the top of the helmets. However, the front rider displayed three plumes in a row positioned from the front of the helmet to the rear. They had on much shorter jackets than the farmers wore, only waist length, topped by a leather cuirass. Instead of trousers, they wore a type of long kilt that hung to below the knees. These kilts were also solid russet in color, with a much shorter pleated leather overskirt. Under the kilts, their legs were protected by calf-high tanned leather boots. Long dark capes draped over their shoulders.

Jason felt a sense of unease when he saw short, curved daggers hanging from the wide leather belts strapped around their waists. His unease grew greater when he saw, riding behind one of the soldiers, the young man who had first greeted Jason's appearance with the pitchfork. Jason took a few steps back and away from Medgwin's family, planted his feet wide apart, and held his hands together down low in front of him in his characteristic, and misleading, "at ease" position. He hoped that his and Billy's presence had not created a problem for Medgwin and his family.

Apparently not, for the leader of the troop, the one with three feathers on his helmet, a rather portly man but one his horse/pony seemed to support quite well despite its comparatively small size, greeted Medgwin in friendly tones, joshing him for not having completed his harvesting. Medgwin replied in an easily familiar way, addressing the leader, who had remained on his mount, that he was glad to see that the captain had brought extra hands to help him.

"I see you have one already," the captain replied, nodding in Jason's direction.

"He's a good worker, he is," replied Medgwin. "I'd hate to lose him, for he, at least, earns his keep."

The captain sighed regretfully, "That is good to hear, but you know the rules about strangers."

"He has done nothing but good here, sir." Medgwin had switched to formal Zairian. Jason recognized the change in syntax, thanks to Billy having spent part of the past evening discussing the complex forms of the language they were learning, and how that indicated the society must have a certain basic formality to it as well, and probably a stratified class structure.

"And just how, Professor of Cultural Anthropology, are you figuring this out from a couple of days spent in rustic company?" he had asked Billy.

Billy had grimaced at Jason's apparent obtuseness. "Isn't it obvious?" he had replied. "It's like there is almost a Shakespearean sense to its many levels. And don't underestimate our 'rustic' friends," Billy had added in a strong warning tone. "I think they are much more evolved and sophisticated technologically than this pre-industrial revolution lifestyle would seem to indicate."

Jason could not always hear the lingual nuances that Billy insisted were present, but then Jason was relying more on a mechanical translator. However, there was no denying the sudden severe formality of the tone of the current conversation.

"I am sorry, my good sir, but I must request that he accompany me. He must be questioned," replied the captain.

"And he's not alone," snarled the ex-pitchfork-wielding lad, who had slipped off his mount unnoticed during the conversation and gone into the house. He was pushing Billy out the door, who was still so weak that he was stumbling over his own feet.

Meglara ran over and hung on her relative's arm.

"Leave him alone, Mugson," she pleaded, "He's too sick to be up."

Mugson showed his contempt by giving Billy such a push that Billy sprawled forward onto the ground, barely breaking his fall with his hands. Then Mugson turn around and shoved Meglara so that she fell backwards and sat down hard on her rear end. He lifted his leg as if to give her a kick. Meglara, seated on the dirt, leaning back on her hands for support, could only glare up at Mugson.

Before anyone else could move, Jason flipped into action. From his resting position, he performed a full body somersault, landing upright between Mugson and Meglara. Even as his feet hit the ground, Jason started a low spin, swinging his right leg forward and around in a circle. This caused Mugson to trip and fly backwards about a dozen paces. Continuing his graceful rotation, Jason pirouetted to face Meglara, stopped, and formally bowed, extending his hand to help her stand up.

From his position on the ground, Billy could see the look of hero worship on Meglara's face as Jason assisted her. But Billy also saw something else.

"Jase, look out! He's got a knife!" he called out.

Jason turned to see Mugson rushing at him. Using Mugson's own forward momentum, Jason easily grabbed his assailant's outstretched arm, relieved him of the short knife, and deflected Mugson into a new direction, where he ended up revolving into the arms of Medgar, who pinioned the lad's arms to his sides.

Jason continued his own smooth spin, ending up to face Meglara once more. He bowed again and handed the knife over to her, hilt first. Then he turned to help Billy stand up.

Meglara stood in a daze looking down at the knife she held in her hand. She looked at Jason, then back down at the knife. She then walked over to her father and handed the weapon to him.

During this whole exchange, the soldiers had remained motionless on their horses. The captain had his hand up in the air, as if he had commanded them to hold their position. Medgar had been the only other person to move, toward Meglara, so had been in the position to grab Mugson when Jason sent the lad flying in his direction.

Mugson shook off Medgar's hold, and backed away from the whole group.

"They're Cerulean spies, you wait and see!" he hollered, then turned and ran.

Medgwin shook his head, and addressed the captain.

"I don't know where that boy gets his ideas," Medgwin sighed regretfully.

"I am sorry, but he did do correctly in reporting these two to us," the captain replied. He turned to Jason, who had his arms encircling Billy, supporting him to stand.

"Can you two account for yourself?" the captain asked.

"My name is Jason," Jason replied in his halting Zairian, "and this is my friend, Billy. We mean no harm. We are here by accident and not of our own will."

The captain eyed them critically. "And where did you come from?"

Jason hesitated, and looked at Billy, who shook his head helplessly. Jason did not want to lie, or to get Medgwin into any more trouble because of them.

"Where we come from is very far away. We don't know the way to get back there," Jason replied cautiously, but truthfully.

"And does this place have a name?" the captain insisted.

"We call it 'Earth'." Jason deliberately used the English word.

"Well, Jaysen of Erth, by law you and your friend are required to come with me. We do not live in the most peaceful of times, and your answers are not too precise. However, since it is evident you have some rather remarkable fighting skills, I am therefore requesting you to accompany me."

"We don't have much of a choice," Billy muttered in English.

"Can you manage it?" Jason responded. He felt concerned about Billy's physical condition. Though Billy had a jacket on, Jason could feel him shivering from the early morning coolness. A similar thought must have been on Mugdower's mind. She asked the captain please if the "small one" could stay with them as he was very ill.

The captain stared down at his horse's mane and sighed. It was obvious that this duty was distasteful to him. He looked at Jason, and it was equally obvious that he did not care to match his men, even armed with daggers, against the moves Jason had displayed.

"We can't place Medgwin's family in danger," Billy insisted in an undertone to Jason.

Jason nodded agreement, and looked up at the captain. "We will come without trouble," he said.

Meglara turned and ran into the house. Medgwin and Mugdower walked over to where Jason and Billy stood. The slender woman, who was taller than her husband, put her hands on Billy's shoulders and peered intently first at him and then at Jason.

"Travel in peace, return home safely," she solemnly intoned. Then she took a step back.

Meglara came back out of the house with a blanket, which she draped over Billy's shoulders for extra protection from the chill.

Jason boosted Billy up behind the rider that the captain indicated. When Jason started to pull off Medgwin's jacket, Medgwin shook his head. He held out a hand and, saying nothing, looked Jason squarely in the eyes. Jason shook hands firmly. He glanced over to Medgar and nodded. Medgar silently acknowledged it with his own nod. Then Jason swung himself up behind another soldier.

"Thank you," Billy called to Mugdower and Meglara.

"Yes, thank you," Jason smiled at each member of the family that had sheltered them, lastly at Meglara. She smiled back, but there were tears on her cheeks.

The horses turned and trotted up the lane. Jason looked back once, waved a hand, and was answered with waves from all the figures standing there.

As they neared where the lane rounded the corner of the fence line, Mugson was seated on the top rail of the fence. He was smiling too, but it was a smirk of smugness. Jason wished there had been some way of making friends with the boy, but it was too late now.

They rode for some time, occasionally passing cultivated fields. More often, they rode through long patches of forest. They did not pass or meet any other travelers on the road. The wide backs of the small horses provided a surprisingly comfortable and smooth ride, even with two riders.

It must be autumn on this world, Jason surmised, from the color of the leaves on the trees -- gold, yellow and brown -- and the ones that were drifting to the ground. On the other hand, Billy had cautioned him not to make too many assumptions. They were on another world and in another dimension. Maybe springtime on this planet was when the leaves fell and plants were harvested.

Billy rode on the horse in front of Jason. For the first hour or so Billy seemed to be managing all right, hanging on to the soldier's waist. Then the soldier began to frequently glance backwards at his passenger, as if he thought Billy was having difficulty staying mounted. Without stopping the horse, the soldier pulled the blanket from Billy's shoulders to down around his passenger's waist and then tied it around his own waist as well. Jason could see that Billy was now slumped against the soldier's back, the right side of his head resting against a shoulder blade, his eyes closed.

They finally stopped in a small clearing near a stream to water the horses. Jason quickly dismounted and raced over to the side of Billy's horse. The soldier untied the blanket from around his waist and lowered Billy into Jason's waiting arms. Billy woke up as Jason placed him on the ground, seating him with his back against the smooth trunk of a large tree.

Jason knelt down with a canteen of water one of the soldiers had handed him.

"How ya' doing, Professor?" Jason asked, trying to keep the worry out of his tone.

Billy weakly sipped from the canteen Jason held to his lips. He looked up at Jason.

"All this napping would be great if I could just believe the rest of this was a dream as well," he replied, with the rasp creeping back into his voice. Billy hadn't coughed in two days, but now he gave a little one. Jason's heart sank.

"Here, I'll be back." Jason handed the canteen to Billy and stood up resolutely. He walked over to the captain, who reclined on the ground a little distance away, and stood before him.

"Sir, I humbly beg you that we find some place where my friend can rest. He is ill." Jason used the most formal Zairian mode that he knew.

The portly captain had one leg stretched out, the other drawn up at an angle to the ground. His arm was balanced on his bent knee, and he held a canteen in his hand. He looked up at Jason and studied him carefully.

"I am sorry that your friend is ill, but I am required to bring you both before my Lord Maxim." He paused for a long moment, and then continued, "You show great loyalty to your friend. It is obvious that you could easily escape from my men."

"Would not that only create enmity?" Jason asked carefully, trying to use the correct Zairian syntax. "Can not we work this out more equably?"

The captain rose with remarkable agility from the ground. Standing, he was just short of Jason's height, but with a great deal more girth, and for some reason very much reminded Jason of a somewhat older Bulk. Bulk was a person back in Angel Grove who had once been a nemesis to the Jason's friends, especially Billy, when they were all younger. Now he was someone Jason considered to be a friend, somewhat of a comical friend, but a friend nonetheless.

The captain walked with Jason back over to where Billy lay against the tree with his eyes closed. He glanced down at Billy's legs, outstretched in the gray jeans, then over at Jason's black ones showing beneath Medgwin's long jacket, and then gazed back at Jason.

"Black and gray are colors seldom worn. Are you wizards or wise men?" the captain asked, apparently in an attempt to catalogue them.

"Neither. We are simply travelers," Jason replied, "unwilling and very lost travelers."

Another long moment of silence ensued.

"Loyalty to a friend can have a very high price to pay," the captain finally said in a musing tone, as if he was thinking about something or someone very different from what he saw before him now.

Then he said, with a note of finality in his voice, "I have some medicine a healer gave me. It may be of benefit to your friend. At least it will help him sleep for the rest of the journey this afternoon. I will also put him on the same horse as you. But I must insist we continue." He turned to give orders to his men.

A soldier brought Jason another blanket, as well some of the cheese and bread that he had come to consider to be the staple on this world. Billy felt feverish to Jason's touch. He woke up enough to swallow a small cupful of the bitter brew supplied by the captain and sip water from the canteen. Jason swathed Billy in the blankets and carried him over to a horse. Soldiers helped Jason to mount, then they placed Billy in his arms. Even through the cloth of the jacket Jason wore, he could feel the heat coming from Billy's forehead as his friend leaned against his shoulder.

Billy muttered, "I think I could really do with a shot of an antibiotic right about now."

"You think it's the flu?" Jason asked.

"No, I think it's pneumonia," and Billy punctuated his pronouncement with a racking cough.

*****

They did not stop again for several hours. Jason tried to keep track of their route through the countryside, which became more heavily forested, but remained fairly level. They headed in a southeasterly direction. He noted that they forded several streams, each wider and swifter than the one before, but none with any bridges. The road remained well-packed dirt and the horses traveled easily. The ride was smooth, but Jason worried about the precious cargo he held in his arms.

Billy dozed on and off, his coughing soothed by the captain's tonic. At last, his forehead broke out in a sweat, the fever apparently broken. He stirred and lifted his head.

"Still in the Land of the Munchkins?" Billy asked lightly.

"It's not the Emerald City," Jason replied, as he shifted his arms to readjust the weight he had been supporting. He felt a little relieved in spirit by the levity of Billy's question.

They had arrived in an obviously hastily thrown together camp composed of dozens of small wooden huts built from recently cut logs. The largest structure in the camp was located in the center of an area that had been cleared of most of the trees. Surrounded by the smaller log huts, the structure's walls were composed of upright smooth-shaved planks, but even those had the appearance of a quick construction job. The building was roughly circular, with a conical thatched roof that vaguely reminded Jason of the straw hat Medgar had woven for him.

Billy took in their surroundings. A hundred or so soldiers, all of them in similar russet-colored outfits, were milling around. Some were seated near campfires, others tended horses or moved in or out of the huts. Still others stood guard around the large structure, and these soldiers were armed with long, pointed spears.

"This does not look good," he murmured. Jason agreed.

"I hope we haven't found ourselves in the middle of a war," Billy added.

But Jason was more worried about the war raging in Billy's lungs, as a coughing fit again wrenched his friend's body. "We have to find you a warm, dry place to rest," he replied.

The captain led his troop directly to the large structure, where they dismounted. A soldier directed Billy and Jason to wait on a nearby bench under a tree.

The captain walked over to where the two sat. He stood solemnly before them.

"I believe you to be a man of honor," he said to Jason. "You may find my Lord Maxim's court to be less than that, but my oath of loyalty required that I bring you before him."

Jason looked at the man curiously. "You sound as if you are trying to warn me of something?"

The captain looked down at the ground, then back up at Jason.

"The Lord Maxim that I knew as a childhood friend was honorable and fair. But things change. Life as it was is not as it is. Perhaps it is the Ceruleans. Perhaps it is something else."

"We are not Ceruleans," Jason replied. "I'm not sure even who or what they are."

"Supposedly our enemies," said the captain. "But I have grown to believe that we are our own worst enemies." He turned on his heel and walked away with no further comment.

"That was cryptic," observed Billy.

"He seems to be someone trying to do his job under what he feels are difficult circumstances," Jason commented.

Billy leaned back against the bark of the tree trunk, adjusting the blanket he had covering his shoulders. He asked abruptly, "Jase, would you consider me someone of a scientific bent, someone with a rational mind?"

"Of course," Jason answered, surprised by the question, especially from Billy, of all people.

"Analytical? Thoughtful? Not prone to jump to conclusions without logical explanations?"

"Yes." Jason's reply was short and unequivocal.

Billy was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. "One thing that being a Ranger taught me was to trust my intuition. And my intuition says that there is something of great evil very near by."

"Human?" Jason asked, looking carefully around.

"No, not human or Zairian, or even native to this planet."

Jason closed his eyes, trying for a touch of whatever Billy sensed. There was just the briefest moment of contact, quickly broken, but he felt it. Evil, malignant, slippery, mercurial, alien, but very much present.

Jason opened his eyes, stunned.

Billy observed his friend's expression, "So I haven't been just dreaming it in my feverish condition," he said hoarsely.

Jason shook his head. "We'll have to be careful and figure out just what is going on."

Two soldiers with tall spears arrived to escort them to the central structure. There, two more soldiers opened a wide door, then barred it with a heavy log from the inside after they entered. Jason and Billy walked in side by side, Billy wheezing slightly, but on his own feet. They were in a large circular chamber, over forty feet in diameter. Their escort directed them to walk about halfway towards the middle of the circle.

On the far side directly across from the door, a high backed wooden chair was situated on a low platform. It had wide, thrusting arms, like a throne, but without any ornamentation. The floor was packed dirt. Unlit torches were positioned in stands at regular intervals around the windowless walls, but the room was well lit from the sunlight coming in as a thin ring from the opening that encircled completely above the walls where the thatched roof and the wall-planks did not quite meet. Four large, upright posts were evenly spaced so that they made a large square within the room's circular diameter. The posts supported the gridwork of slim slanting planks that held up the thatching.

The room was filled with dozens of soldiers. Some were obviously on guard as they remained at attention next to the torch stands, the long spears held at their sides pointing upward. To the right of the throne gathered a small group of older men, all dressed alike in long gowns the color of solid magenta with conical cloth hats of the same color on their heads. The group reminded Jason of college professors awaiting a graduation ceremony.

In the middle of the group stood a man with his back to Jason and Billy. He turned with a flourish, dramatically swirling his robes around him, to look at the two strangers. It seemed obvious to Jason that he was Lord Maxim.

He appeared to be considerably younger than his councilors, but about a decade older than Jason and Billy, which put him at about the same age as the portly captain. He was slender and as tall as Jason, with a rather handsome, narrow face that held more than a hint of a dissipated life style. His shoulder-length layered-cut dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a gold ribbon. Curls escaped wildly to frame his face. There was a regality to his stance, and yet, a disturbing vacancy in his hazel eyes. His floor length outer robe was of a magenta so dark that it appeared almost purplish-black though gold threads woven at intervals throughout the cloth contrasted and revealed the material's true color. Underneath the outer robes, he wore a pale magenta gown with wide sleeves that drooped down to the narrow wrists.

Hung on a thin gold chain around his neck was a small misshapen murky-brown multifaceted crystal, about an inch across. The crystal was mounted in a frame of twisted links in gold filigree that closer inspection revealed to be a figure similar to that of an ourobouros, a large snake or worm consuming itself.

Jason shook his head slightly, as if to clear a mental image. "How odd," he thought, "first the captain made me think of Bulk, and now this guy reminds me of Skull!"

Billy whispered to Jason, "He looks drugged!"

"Silence," a soldier on Billy's right ordered. Billy moved a little closer to Jason's right side, holding his chin down a little and his fist to his lips, trying not to cough.

Jason had assumed his "at ease" stance, legs apart and arms held naturally down in front of him with hands clasped together. He watched intently as Lord Maxim approached them.

The man swaggered obstreperously, flamboyantly wheeling to circle around the duo. As he inspected them, his head jerked up and down like a pecking chicken.

"And what have we here?" Lord Maxim asked in a supercilious tone. Billy's previous lectures on nuances in the language and social class structures came back to Jason, and he deemed it wisest not to reply until he was directly asked a question. He kept his gaze directed toward the chair and waited. Billy moved slightly, now standing almost behind Jason's right shoulder, with his head still lowered.

Maxim strutted to a position directly in front of Jason, posturing both arms in their long flowing sleeves to positions on his hips. He stared into Jason's eyes. Jason endeavored to keep his face expressionless, but the close physical similarity to Skull made him want to smile.

"Watch it," he told himself. "Remember, no assumptions."

"Can you explain yourself?" Maxim demanded.

"As I told your captain, my name is Jason and this is Billy. We are travelers from a far place, called Earth, lost and unsure of how to return home," Jason replied.

"And this place, where is this 'Erth', that none of us have ever heard of?" Maxim's tone indicated that he obviously thought Jason was a liar.

"Sir, I can't tell you, for I do not know."

"And just how did you get here?"

"A powerful force kicked us here," Jason replied. Just stick to the truth, he told himself.

Maxim stood there for another long moment, studying Jason. Then he turned with another sweeping flourish and flurry of robes, and mounted his throne. He draped himself over the chair so that one leg hung over an armrest. With his right elbow positioned on the other chair arm, he rested his chin on an oh-so-carefully posed palm, fingers slowly tapping a rhythm against his cheek.

"You wear black. Did another wizard send you here?"

"I am no wizard, sir," Jason replied respectfully.

"A warrior, then? I hear you disarmed a dozen of my soldiers."

"It was only one boy with a small knife who was showing poor judgement." Jason tried to maintain a reasonable tone.

"These answers are completely unacceptable!" Maxim sounded irritated.

"My lord, perhaps I could get some truth out of this rogue," exclaimed a rather burly soldier who stepped out of the surrounding crowd of soldiers to stand near Billy.

Maxim waved his left hand slightly and said in a sarcastic tone, "No, no, no. I understand that this Jaysen of the mythical Erth can perform the most magical moves."

"They are not magical, Lord Maxim. They are called martial arts and are used in self-defense. Anyone can learn them," Jason calmly explained.

"Even that shy friend of yours? Come, come, show your face, boy."

Billy lifted his head and stepped out from behind Jason.

"And I suppose your story is the same, and just as ridiculous as your friend's?" Maxim asked.

Billy only nodded. Jason realized that Billy must be refraining from saying anything for fear he might start coughing.

"Well," Maxim turned his attention back to Jason, "Show us these famous moves."

"I don't think that would be wise," Jason replied.

"Wise? Wise? I believe I have made a request of you that you are failing to honor!" Maxim raised his voice. "Perhaps you need motivation." He nodded at the burly soldier. Before Jason could intervene, the soldier grabbed Billy by the right arm, spun him around into the soldier's grasp, and put his left arm in a potential strangle hold across Billy's throat.

"Let's see how you defend against this," the soldier grinned maliciously.

Jason looked at Billy, who stood motionless in the soldier's grip but wore an expression as if he wanted to say to Jason, "don't do it." Jason gave just the slightest shake of his head in response, then turned to face Maxim again and gave him a formal bow.

"Lord Maxim, since you insist, perhaps a demonstration is in order." Jason removed Medgwin's jacket, eliciting a distinct gasp from someone when it revealed that he was dressed all in black. He looked around, trying to figure out where to lay the jacket, when he spotted the captain in the crowd. He walked over and handed him the jacket. As Jason did so, he said in a very low voice, "please, if there is anything you can do to assist my friend..."

The captain nodded as he took the jacket.

Jason moved to the center of the circle of soldiers, bowed again to Lord Maxim, and resumed his "at ease" position.

Maxim nodded to another large, burly soldier, almost a twin of the one that held Billy. The man grinned hugely, and ran at Jason with arms out, as if to give him a bear hug. Jason easily side stepped so that the man rushed past him, the soldier's momentum carrying him into the crowd. There was general laughter. The man turned and rushed at Jason again, and again Jason stepped aside.

"Hold still!" the soldier demanded. Jason stood in place this time as the soldier charged, but then took hold of the man's arm with an almost casual grace and easily flipped him. The soldier fell stolidly on his back on the floor. There was more laughter.

"That isn't real fighting," complained the soldier who was holding Billy by the throat.

"You're welcome to come try," Jason offered, hoping to lure him away from Billy's side.

Lowering his arm, the man started forward, when suddenly he found himself somehow tripping over his own feet, and was sent sprawling on his face. The crowd erupted in raucous laughter that was tinged with an ambiguous emotional undertone. Billy looked at Jason with the most ingenuous and innocent look on his face and winked, so Jason knew the tripping had been deliberate. Jason winked back, and felt a surge of reassurance. Even in his weakened condition, Billy had managed a leverage move against the soldier. "Never underestimate Billy power," Jason thought gratefully as he prepared to face his new opponent.

The man was embarrassed and enraged. The blind anger he displayed as he charged made it easy for Jason to keep him off balance, and send him spinning into a knot of soldiers. By then the first assailant was back up on his feet and, joined by yet another soldier, rushed at Jason. Jason launched himself into a somersault over the head of one attacker, and landed cat-like on his feet. Swinging his left leg out, he tripped both assailants as he spun back around to once more face the soldier who had first threatened Billy.

Jason stanced, then straightened up and bowed respectfully to his opponent. "I would be happy to teach you these moves."

"Oh, you would, would you?" The man rammed like a bull toward Jason. Jason shook his head with disappointment, and settled down to work. Using the least amount of force, time and time again he flipped the man or easily deflected his blows. After the third flip, Jason stood looking down at the soldier as he lay on the dirt floor.

"Please, I would much rather teach you how to do this," he offered again.

"Jase, drop!" Billy's hoarse command pierced through the now clamoring crowd. Without hesitation, Jason dropped face down, prone to the floor in a push-up position, while two soldiers clashed into each other directly where he had been standing. Jason pushed himself upwards by his arms, rolled sideways while in the air, kicking his legs out and down, and then hand standed to an upright position.

He was now surrounded by five assailants. He glanced towards Billy, and saw that the captain was now standing by Billy's side. He briefly wondered what it was that Billy was staring at so hard, in a direction towards the throne.

"Stay focused," Jason gave himself an internal warning. And just in time, for the "demonstration" had raised a level in intensity. Three of the soldiers had drawn their short, curved daggers. Inwardly Jason was trying to identify a change in the emotional atmosphere he felt in the room.

He stanced in the middle of the circle of soldiers, then slowly turned counter clockwise, observing and measuring the skill of each of his opponents.

"This is not a fair fight," called a voice from the crowd. It might have been the captain's.

Jason quickly and efficiently disarmed two opponents as they surged toward him. Taking their daggers by the leather loops hanging from the handles, he whirled the weapons like nunchuk whirligigs around his wrists. But instead of discouraging the attackers, more seemed determined to join in the fray.

"What is this?" he wondered. Even as he kept rotating his body around, unceasingly dancing on his feet to prevent a blow from any one direction, Jason was analyzing the attackers.

"It's not like I'm fighting people with emotions anymore. It's more like struggling with mindless putties, but putties armed with sharp weapons! I don't want to hurt these people, for they ARE people, with emotions and fears and needs and hopes, not clay minions of some evil being. One of them may even be the soldier who handed me the canteen for Billy."

Internally, Jason felt in conflict with his own emotions, as if a veil of anger was being tossed over him from another source, outside of himself, like those times that spells had been cast on him by Rita Repulsa, especially the ones trying to induce him to fight Tommy. But he had never intentionally hurt another person in his life with his skills, especially when armed with weapons as he was now.

"And I am not going to do so now. But there are so many of them!"

The crowd of soldiers converged, and the space around him became ever smaller, limiting his options. He couldn't see Billy.

"I will not make the first strike," he told himself forcefully. "I will not allow myself to be manipulated into deliberately harming another. I was able to counteract such a spell when Tommy and I fought the Landshark. I can counteract this." But he was fighting by himself this time, without his partner at his side.

Then the blows began to come from all directions. Jason used his weapons only to parry the daggers and spear jabs, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before someone would make a lucky strike. He didn't even see it coming, when a sharp edge glanced off the right side of his skull and the world went spinning.

******