Prologue




Inside the prestigious Mrowdon University, at one of the great windows of the Archeology Department in the left wing, second floor, Noblewoman Annabel Tidwell looked out on the grounds of her beloved University and sighed. It just didn’t seem fair to her that all her friends should be off having grand adventures and leave her behind simply because she was a woman! She’d already proven herself in the field multiple times and shown she was as capable as any other professor.

She studied her reflection in the window. Her soft golden ears on the top of her head complemented her long blond hair the same color as her soft fur. Green eyes stared over a perfect muzzle with black lips which encased her white teeth. Her delicate bone structure spoke of her excellent breeding, as did her full figure encased in only the latest dress fashion. She didn’t care for fashion itself as a rule, but her mother and elder sister did and often found dresses for her. She had entire wardrobes devoted to their efforts, more than she would ever wear or even want really, but she did her best to humor them. Though the reflection did not show it, she knew her tail finished off her beauty exquisitely, being long and supple with perfectly brushed fur. All in all, she was as fine a specimen of womanhood as to be found in the world today, whenever she felt arrogant enough to admit it to herself, which wasn’t often.

A soft padding behind her took her attention away from her studies and she smiled at her servant Matcha as she strode forward calmly, a tray balanced neatly in her hand.

“Madam, it is time for your afternoon tea, as requested.” She reminded her in her alto, slightly husky voice.

“Yes, thank you Match.” Annabel said, using her private nickname for her friend. “Would you like me to pour today? I want to show you something I’ve discovered amongst these archives.”

“It wouldn’t be proper for a servant to be served by her mistress.” Matcha reminded her.

“Oh, dash all the fuddy-duddy’s that might see. What reputation have I got left?” Annabel laughed. “You know I’m already considered right queer for my strange notions and desires. Now, let me pour and I’ll show you what I’ve found. It’s really quite interesting.”

“As you wish.” Matcha said with a small smile.

Matcha had sworn her service to Annabel when they were both extremely young. Annabel’s father, on some service to the crown, had taken his wife and daughter on a trip to the dense jungles of one of the Continents they called South America. (Annabel had always been curious why they called it that name, but it had been handed down for so many generations that the real reason had been forever lost). While negotiating with one of the local Cat People tribes, Annabel, being just five years old and very curious, had wandered into the jungle. Upon hearing a soft shout for help, the toddler had searched until she discovered a youngster trapped in a small pit with a broken leg. Annabel, being independent even at that age, had managed to drag a vine over to the pit and helped the cat-girl climb out. When the tribesmen found out, Matcha immediately swore service as was custom, much to the shock of Annabel’s father. He agreed to the deal, however, as it strengthened the ties he’d been laboring to achieve. Matcha came to live with the Tidwell’s at their home in England. The two girls had become very close as they grew up, becoming practically sisters. Annabel couldn’t imagine life without her friend any more than she could imagine living without her hands or feet.

Matcha had flowered at the same time as Annabel, become fuller in the hips and bust as was the feline species wont to do. Her dark fur with even blacker spots marked her as an exotic even from a distance, as did her mesmerizing green-gold eyes with the narrow pupils. Unflappability, fierce loyalty and lighting reflexes were all attributes that could be said of her.

The two sat over a hot cup of Lemon tea that was Annabel’s favorite, talking in the customary fashion of the inane. Things like the weather, politics, and who had managed what in the athletic department were all suitable topics for young ladies over tea, but Annabel never cared for such drivel and strained with impatience to get on to more important things.

Matcha sensed the mood easily and put down her cup before the last of it could be drained.

“Now, what was it you wanted to show me?” she asked.

Annabel drained the last of hers in one unladylike gulp and put the cup neatly on the tray. Then she went to her work desk and grabbed a small object and brought it back over. Setting it on the table between them she let Matcha have a good look at it.

The object measured about six inches long by about four tall. The edges were jagged and broken from some larger piece, the edges having turned tan and weathered from the extreme age. It was round and made of some metal as a small patch gleamed brightly from where the dirt and debris had been cleared away. On the bar, nearest the broken edge, the raised surface of a letter could be seen faintly.

Matcha took it and looked at it curiously for a while. At last she shook her head.

“It is interesting.” She admitted. “But there is so little to go on here. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

Annabel smiled. “Well, that’s because you don’t know the whole story yet. Sit back and let me tell you what I know. The bar was discovered in North America some time ago by a trapper who said he’d never seen anything like it. He sold it to an archeologist in the area for some gold ore, a Dr. Altheda. He took the object and, seeing the extreme age of the artifact, had it shipped back to London for analysis. We took the piece and logged it into the inventory and let it sit. Well, I happen to notice it the other day when I was going through some files and fished it from the drawer. After cleaning it and noticing the astonishing brightness of the metal even after these years, I took it to the geology lab and asked them to look it over. Dr. Moresly was more than willing, having a slow day. He did several measurements and declared it to be some sort of steel alloy, the likes of which he’d never seen before. That’s what got me really interested. Alloy, Matcha!” she exclaimed. “That’s an expensive process even today, and much of our steel still rusts after a short period of time. Yet this object has sat for untold thousands of years fighting off the rust. How?”

“I give up. How?” Matcha asked with interest.

“I don’t know. And here’s something interesting. You see this partial rune on the metal near the jagged end? It’s not like any other rune I’ve come across before in my studies. It could be, of course, simply too damaged to make out now. But I am almost certain that it is not in any known dialect.”

“So, are we talking about a possible new civilization?” Matcha asked hesitantly.

“I think so, yes. Certainly the possibility exists.” Annabel nodded. “As there has not yet been found another ancient people that had as much knowledge of metal working as us.”

“What about the cave drawings in the desert from the Americas?” Matcha asked. “They depict some weapons of unknown origin if memory serves, as well as a different race of people that apparently died out after giving birth to the people of the world.”

Annabel looked at her friend, both impressed at her depth of knowledge on the region and disturbed that she would ever give credence to the silly notion of a tailless people! Why, if someone ever had been born without a tail, they would fall over from lack of balance! She said as much and got a chuckle in reply.

“I didn’t say I was a believer, Anna.” She said, using the name they used only whenever they were alone like this. “But whoever painted those caves certainly did, and they are old. Older than anything else we’ve ever found of the past.”

“Well, I don’t believe in old storytellers trying to frighten pups and kittens.” Annabel sniffed. “But there is someone here who managed to work with advanced metals, and we should investigate.”

“Investigate? You mean travel to the same area as the gold prospector and see what else can be found?” Matcha sounded unsurprised and was merely asking for confirmation.

“Of course.” Annabel confirmed. “We’ll have to get permission of course, and secure enough funds to launch such an expedition. We’ll have a lot to do, I think.”

“Indeed.” Matcha concurred. Together they sat for rest of the day creating lists of supplies they would need and pouring over maps to plot their route and who to talk to for native guides.




Three days later they were in the Dean’s office presenting their plan to a select group of faculty members and investors. The Dean presided over the meeting, a stern old Rott that had a reputation for unwavering discipline and a desire for order. Annabel had struggled for years to get her ideas accepted by him and had not managed to do so. This time she was hoping it would be different, especially with Dr. Moresly providing his expert opinion that the metal-smithing achieved was actually superior to their own and what possibilities could be opened up for the empire if they could acquire the tools or recipes from that city.

The possibility of superior rust-resistant metal clearly interested the investors who saw the promise of vast wealth in the notion. The faculty thought that it would be perhaps one of the greatest finds of the century if true, but to go on so little evidence struck them as overly hasty.

At last they agreed that a small expedition should be mounted to undertake the reclamation of the site. Such an expedition would locate more artifacts, log them carefully, and return to England immediately so a greater effort could be made.

“The only concern I have is who is to lead the expedition.” The dean said. His dark eyes met Annabel’s levelly as he peered over steepled hands.

“Given the excellent work performed by Lady Annabel, I am delighted to give her credit for the find. But due to the difficulties of the environment; I am not sure it would be a good idea to let her go. It could tax her health unnecessarily. Perhaps others should go in her stead. Certainly someone else should lead.”

“You would seek to bar me from the expedition?” Annabel cried aghast.

“I am merely protecting you from the unknown.” The dean said smoothly. “Should the initial expedition prove successful, then I see no reason you couldn’t go on the larger one later. There is greater safety in numbers after all, and surely it would be more comfortable.”

“Scientific discovery should not be about comfort.” Annabel insisted. “If one wants to be a scientist, then they have to be willing to take chances and live uncomfortably in the pursuit of the absolute truth! I call myself a scientist; and I am! I do not hesitate to say that I can hold my own with any faculty member here on my subject! Do you deny that?”

The dean sighed. “I cannot.” He said grudgingly. “But I still do not think you are ready to lead an expedition. You’re impulsive and unfit. No, someone else has to go.”

“Then what about me?” a new voice asked from the back. A stranger stood up; no one had seen him come in during the debate and now everyone was looking curiously at him except Annabel.

“Gavin!” she cried in astonishment. “When did you get here? I thought you were in Africa!”

“I arrived just this morning. Mum told me where you were off to and what you were trying to do, so I came to watch. It is quite the show.” He admitted easily.

Annabel was delighted; her older brother had always been closer to her than her sisters and often had let her tag along with him on some of his own adventures. He had similar color to her, except his face had a large white patch that extended smoothly up his nose to his forehead and had shoulders like an ox.

“Ah, Mr. Tidwell.” The dean coughed. “I had not expected to see you for another week. The dig went well then, I trust?””

Gavin shrugged. “About as well as can be expected.” He said easily. “When you are working in ancient tombs, you have to expect some delays. I anticipated trouble however and everything was handled rather well and I returned early. You can expect the artifacts to arrive in a week aboard the Krissy’s Kiss. I am still meaning to ask the captain as to the unusual name of his vessel.”

“Indeed.” The Dean grumped. “But now we return our attention back to your sister. You speak for her now?”

The siblings looked at each other; Annabel furious, Gavin apologetic. Annabel sighed and nodded, knowing it to be the only way she’d get to go along.

“Yes.” Gavin said, striding to the center to stand next to Annabel. When she turned to sit down, she yelped when his hands gripped her arm and held her next to him. “And Dr. Tidwell will come with me as my second. As she’s already stated, she can hold her own with anyone on her own subject. Her insights will prove invaluable.”

The dean growled in annoyance, shuffling papers and not saying a word.

One of the investors spoke up. “Are you confident that you will find something that will make this expedition worthwhile?” the old sheepdog asked.

“I have not looked over the details yet.” Gavin said smoothly. “But I trust my sister’s word. If she says there’s something there, then there’s something there. I would stake my reputation on that.”

“All right then.” The sheepdog said mollified. “I think we are in agreement then. You will have your money. How soon can you depart?””

“In five days.” Annabel whispered to her brother.

“In five day’s time.” Gavin announced.

“Good luck to you.” The dean announced. “I fear you will need it.”

He ushered everyone out of the office. Just before rounding the corner Annabel happened to glance back to see him standing at his office door looking worriedly at her. When he caught her glance his expression changed to one of annoyance and he slammed the door abruptly.

“Softy.” She muttered under her breath, unexpectedly touched by his concern.




Actually it proved to be six days before they could actually leave. Bad weather delayed the launch of their steamer, aptly named Golden City. It was a sturdy vessel, about eighty-five feet long and thirty feet abeam, with the latest reciprocating engines that drove her through the Atlantic at about twenty knots. Her hull was encased in bright paint and the discipline aboard seemed no different than those aboard a passenger liner or flagship. The crew seemed happy and were always willing to pause a moment to talk or tell some story that they’d heard while in port.

The captain was a sturdy old bulldog with a broad, almost square face from which a pair of small eyes stared sternly at anyone that got caught in their gaze. He was an experienced man of the sea of forty years and getting on in life. This would be one of his last voyages, he said.

There isn’t much else to tell of the steamer cruise, other than Gavin and Annabel had to comfort poor Matcha for most of the trip. The cat was prone to seasickness and the constant motion of the ship made it impossible for her to hold food for any length of time.

At the harbor in America they spent an afternoon trying to cheer up the miserable cat who thought she’d disgraced herself in front of her charges. In the evening they took a train out to the last city of their trip, Dodgeson, before getting on a smaller train to the town nearest the site, a rough and tumble affair called Last Stand. No one knew what had prompted such a name, but the reputation it possessed was on all their minds when the passengers disembarked with all the luggage.

“Well, after we get settled, we need to start on finding a guide that can take us to the mountain.” Annabel said as she watched the train pull away from the dusty, forlorn station.

She eyed the ramshackle buildings behind them with disbelief and distaste; not one of them looked very sturdy and she feared a gust of wind would bring the whole affair crashing down on their heads. She’d much prefer her tent to one of these places!

Gavin followed her eye with a grimace of his own.

“It isn’t much of a place.” He announced. “But one night shouldn’t be so bad.”

Annabel reminded him of those words the next morning in their room as she doctored the cut over his eyes and the bruises on his face while Matcha boiled water for tea laced with painkillers.

“What made you decide to play cards with that scoundrel in the first place?” Annabel asked him in exasperation as she cut the last length of bandage.

Gavin squirmed uncomfortably, embarrassed perhaps, before answering morosely. “I thought I could hold my own and I hadn’t had a game since we left England.” He hung his head.

“Well that should teach you for thinking such foolishness.” Annabel sniffed. “That desert lout could have made mincemeat of you.”

A knock at the door interrupted Gavin’s reply. A bear of a man stepped inside as soon as Matcha opened the door. He was one of the biggest dog-folk that Annabel had ever seen, standing perhaps five-foot four! A ridiculous height to be sure, but the dark grey of his fur hinted at wolf ancestry somewhere in his past, so perhaps that explained it. He was dressed in the simple, rough clothes of a miner and had dust and mud caked deep in his fur despite looking as if he’d freshly bathed. He looked down at them with sharp, inquisitive eyes as he surveyed them regally.

Both sides studied one another. At last the wolf gave a slight nod of his head as if satisfied with what he saw. He spoke in the voice of one who never minced words.

“I understand you are looking for a guide to the Broken Mountain.”

Annabel looked at him in surprise. “Well, yes I…er, we are. But how did you know? We haven’t even begun to interview anyone yet.”

“Didn’t take much to figure out.” The wolf told them. “After all, you’ve got all them fancy boxes from England, and that’s where Charlie sent his goods after getting a good price for them.”

“Yes, well. I guess that’s good deductive reasoning.” Annabel said faintly. “Are you asking for the job mister…?”

“No.” he said shortly. “I came to offer advice. Stay away from that mountain. It’s cursed, nothing ever grows there and nothing good will ever come of it.”

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.” Annabel shook her head. “Something of great interest to us was discovered there, and if there is more we must find it. We are willing to pay handsomely for a guide to the area, if it is a question of money.”

The stranger looked at her, then at Gavin. “She in charge?” he asked gruffly.

Before Gavin could speak Annabel beat him.

“I am standing right here!” she snapped. She felt her lips draw back in annoyance and anger. “You can address your questions to me, or go back to the bar!”

He eyed her a minute before nodding. “Good.” He told her. “You will have need of that strength if you go near the mountain.””

He walked forward and poked her arm disrespectfully. Matcha gasped and Gavin’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re soft.” He said quietly. “You will not last a day out there on your own. And this town would eat you alive before you got three steps out your door.”

Annabel resisted the urge to strike him. “So what are you suggesting?” she asked, restraining her fury with difficulty.

“My half-sister knows the surrounding country very well.” He said at length. “And she is honest and brave. She could take you to where you wish to go and keep you tenderfeet out of trouble. Wait here.”

Abruptly he turned and strode from the room, leaving the others to stare at the empty doorway in surprise.

“What an odd fellow.” Gavin said quietly, breaking the spell.

“Very.” Annabel agreed, her thoughts racing at the stranger’s offer of a native guide to the mountain. IF the offer was genuine it would be a huge boon to her investigation. On the other hand, it could be a trap and she’d have no way to tell. She could try her luck down in the bar, but if last night’s crowd was any indication of the sort of people she’d have to deal with, it might be better to cut her own throat then wait for her guide to do it for her.

“Mistress Annabel, are you all right?” Matcha asked in concern. She was studying her very closely, Anna thought.

She forced a smile. “I am Matcha, just trying to work out all the likely scenarios and possibilities in my mind. I want to make sure we are being very careful in this deal before—“

She cut off as the stranger returned, along with a striking woman whose features were deeply weathered by a life outdoors. Her eyes were very sharp and alight with amusement, peering out from a face similar to her brother’s but obviously pure-blood. Her dusty brown fur would blend perfectly in with the desert with the black splotch along her back allowing her to disappear into any shadow, except that she’d marked her face in red paint. Intricate designs were swirled around in markings that Annabel couldn’t classify but only served to make her seem beautiful and mysterious. Her small hands clutched a spear decorated with bird feathers and tipped with a broad stone spear. Her attire was a simple deerskin dress with fringe and a woven band around her head that kept her hair from getting in her eyes. Several pockets had been sewn into the dress for aid in carrying, and around her waist a leather belt held several bulging pouches in a very practical manner.

“This is my sister Mausi.” The stranger announced. “She will be your guide for a hundred silver marks a month.”

Annabel was staggered at the price asked. It was far worse than her fears realized!

“Um. We cannot pay such an exorbitant fee.” Annabel stated firmly. “Perhaps a more reasonable amount would be acceptable? Say forty coin a month?”

“No.” The wolf said firmly and turned to go, but was stopped by his sister who laid a paw on his arm.

“I will guide you for thirty-five silver a month, no less. You follow my every word when I tell you without argument or complaint, or you can try one of those civilized,” she said the word with a sneer, “men below. I guarantee they will ask the same amount as I, and take whatever else they want as well and leave you for the carrion eaters.”

“You paint a grim picture, Miss Mausi.” Annabel said faintly. “You seem to suggest that we must go with you or die.”

“Yep.” She said calmly. Both women stared into each other’s eyes. “What’s it going to be?”

Annabel hesitated. Thirty-five silver marks a month wasn’t bad, certainly better than a hundred a month and the other conditions could work, so long as they didn’t interfere with her discoveries. After all, if a wild animal attacked, she’d have no choice!

“Very well.” She said at last. “Give me a moment to draw up a legal contract.”

She sat down with her brother and wrote out a strong contract:

“For the offer of professional services by the person known as Mausi, a native of the land, we gratefully accept. Terms: Cash vouchers delivered every three weeks for the amount of Thirty-Five (35) silver marks. Travelling expenses guaranteed in any event. All instructions provided by the guide inherent to our own survival will be followed unless satisfactory reasons are provided, or the contract voided.”

“Yours Sincerely,”

“Annabel Tidwell and Co.”

Mausi took the contract and handed it to her brother. He read it slowly to her as she listened with closed expression. When he finished she eyed Annabel sternly a long while before turning and, accepting a small quill from her brother, made a curious mark on the paper. Turning it over she handed it back to Annabel who made a quick copy for her own records and returned it to her for “safekeeping. This will guarantee that you are paid still in the unfortunate event of our deaths.”

Now that all parties seemed satisfied with the deal, the stranger walked back out of the room while Mausi simply leaned against one wall and waited.

“Well, now that we have acquired our guide, the esteemed Mausi, perhaps we can finally get started.” Annabel said at last. She realized she’d never gotten the name of the stranger that had brought them together. She thought about asking, but decided it really didn’t matter at that point.

For an hour they were very busy making last minute preparations. Food was bought at the local butcher for exorbitant prices, and the cost for seven sturdy ponies left them with very light purses.

No one would bother robbing us. Annabel thought sourly as they made their way out into the scorching desert. We’ve got nothing left to rob.

The seven ponies’ trotted steadily on while Mausi walked beside them all grinning. She’d refused the offer of a pony to ride on, saying she preferred her own two legs. They kept one free just in case she changed her mind or they needed to swap one out. The other three carried the baggage while Gavin, Matcha and Annabel rode.

The land around them became flatter as they went along. Tall cactuses like victims of a holdup dotted the plain, appearing more frequently along the sandy banks of dried up watercourses. They traversed these gullies with no trouble; the sand in them had baked for so long they were hard as stone in most cases.

They set up camp every night after the sun went down. Mausi would show them the best places to pitch the tents to avoid the wind, a fact that Annabel became very interested in after the first night when she ignored the warning and had tumbled unmercifully as the wind ripped the tent from its pegs and hurled it along a streambed.

On the fifteenth morning of their journey, the land started to change. It sloped upward gently. Trees started to appear, tough drought-resistant pines and small plots of grass. Rocks and boulders dotted the area, and in the distance a low ominous shape in the distant rose swiftly to a most ancient mountain. Time had worn it away, the rains had beat it and the ice had smothered it, yet the mountain still stood defiant on the landscape, challenging all who drew near to its brooding seat.

Annabel felt an actual chill go down her spine. She could easily see how the mind could conjure images of a sleeping god lying under such a place, or a malevolent demon. Either way she thought it uncanny at best.

The mood seemed to descend on the entire party. The others stopped talking at night and drew closer to the fires. Everyone had some weapon that they kept with them, be it spear, knife or gun. But now they were held close at night and no one dared sleep without it. Guards were posted and everyone drew lots for the watch.

When they reached the site, Annabel was at first disappointed. She’d expected large pits in the ground or perhaps crumbling ruins. Perhaps even a city. The featureless desert sand seemed to be an insult. The only thing in sight was a small hole in the ground where someone had dug an exploratory hole looking for gold.

“This is it?” Gavin asked.

He’s put out about it as well. She thought. She agreed with him privately, but also felt angry that he’d expected her own ideals as well.

“Of course it is. What did you expect, a great ruined city? It would have been found and plundered years ago if it had. The ruins must be underground, buried after who knows how many centuries! We’ll start to work digging right away. I’m sure we’ll find something very quickly.” She said passionately.

The others looked put out at the results, but she didn’t let them waver, and very soon she had Gavin starting to dig in the sand while she helped Mauri and Matcha set up the camp.

They unfolded the tents from the saddlebags and placed them on the ground. Tying down the wires so the tents wouldn’t fall over in the wind proved to be the most difficult part, as the rest of the tents, “The very latest in London!” her sister had said, went up smooth as silk. As soon as she saw them she suppressed the urge to sigh. The bright white canvas and delicate designs were definitely not appropriate to a serious dig. Where they’d gotten them was anybodies guess, but it was obvious that they weren’t from a practical place.

Mausi eyed her oddly when she saw the tents and Matcha made a fuss of trying to secure them in the ground as best she could with the tiny stakes that had been provided; made for pounding into small greens instead of dense-packed clay.

“Forget it Matcha.” Annabel growled in exasperation. “These are polo tents! Not made for being out here. What my sister was thinking of when she got these beats me.”

“These shelters are…no good.” Mausi said.

“I know.” Annabel said in frustration. “Why didn’t I check the tents and at least set one up before we left? I’m going to kill my sister!”

The only tent that proved to be any kind of decent tent was Gavin’s. It was a large, sturdy square tent with a long pole for the center that propped the middle up. It was large enough for a cot, small stove, folding table and a large trunk. However, due to the poor condition of the others, it ended up holding all four cots while the rest of the gear was wrapped in the thin silk walls of the other tents to keep them dry.

Gavin did not seem amused that evening when they returned from the dig site and had only one tent to share. Ever the gentleman, however, he took the first watch. When he finally strode in and woke Mausi for hers he didn’t bother to dress for bed but instead stretched comfortably on his well-used cot and drifted promptly to sleep.

In the morning they established a routine. Annabel, watching the sun rise over the horizon until the it had started its upward journey. After which She bustled about setting up a cookfire for breakfast. Very slowly the others made their way over to collect the morning meal of mash. In the afternoon they started to dig down, seeking anything that might aid them in their quest. In the gathering gloom of evening, they went back to the tent with whatever might be interesting, cooked a meal of more mash, some dried meat, or  fresh meat sometimes whenever Mausi could catch something, which fortunately was often.

Several days passed without finding anything. On the eight day they discovered a cut wooden board so old it had turned to stone. Annabel couldn’t believe it, it looked so fragile as it stuck out of the dirt at her feet.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she whispered to Gavin in awe.

“Yes.” He laughed. “Whenever I made a new discovery in the tombs of the ancient Felids of Africa. Now, let’s see what we might have here.”

Encouraged, they set to cleaning the wood with a will. In two days they had excavated all around the initial discovery and revealed a small wagon. The metal shape had stayed in decent shape after being buried for who knew how many centuries, with little decay even in the stone wood.

The wagon had a broken axle, which made Gavin think it had been used to carry goods away from some cataclysmic event that had destroyed the city and when it had broken the goods had been redistributed elsewhere and the wagon abandoned where it had fallen.

“That’s not a bad theory.” Annabel agreed. “But we need more evidence before I’m willing to buy into it.”

“I agree to that at least.” Gavin nodded. “What strikes me as curious though is the direction the wagon is pointing. See here? This is obviously the tongue of the cart, or what used to be the tongue. It’s pointing towards the mountain.”

The party turned to the brooding peak. What each thought, Annabel couldn’t say. They might have mirrored her own or they may have gone a different direction. She had to ask.

“Do you think the people here might have tried to seek refuge in the mountain?” she asked in a solemn voice.

“I think,” Gavin began delicately. “That it is certainly a strong possibility. I am no geologist, but this mountain is old, old enough to have been here whenever this city fell.”

“Do you think we should take a look?” Annabel asked hesitantly.

Gavin looked doubtful. “I would wager that if there had been a place on the mountain where the people here sought refuge, it’s been picked clean over the years.”

Mausi shook her head. “That mountain is cursed.” She announced in a firm voice. “A god slumbers under there, is what all the people of the lands about believe. No one would ever have gone up there.”

“How about you, Mausi?” Gavin asked. “Do you believe there is a god there?”

Mausi hesitated. “I have not seen it.” She temporized. “I do not think I would like to either.” She stated firmly.

“I would wager that whatever is under that mountain has long since died.” Annabel broke in firmly. “But that gets me thinking. Say whoever had been in the city had fled to the mountain. They would seek to defend themselves. Perhaps they stayed for some time, killing all who came near until they ran out of food or water as the lands about dried up. They disappeared leaving behind such a strong fear of their caves that the locals called the mountain cursed.”

Mausi looked doubtful, but Gavin and Matcha were nodding.

“It’s a good theory, but we won’t know how it would hold water until we go and take a look.” Matcha pointed out.

“Right, and we are nearing the end of our window. If we’re going to risk a quick exploration, we’ve got to go now.”

“At first light, we’ll ascend. We’ve got just five days left before we have to start going back.”

They woke early and broke their camp down. To the ponies displeasure, they were made to walk up the gently sloping hill that led to the summit. They followed the direction the wagon had been following, Gavin checking every so often with his compass to make sure they hadn’t strayed.

Near the top, they came across a large cave. They anchored the ponies outside and ventured in. Mausi refused, saying that she was starting to believe the stories of her people. Annabel tried to convince her to come but the desert woman didn’t budge.

Walking inside, Annabel looked curiously at the walls and floor of the cave, worn smooth from time and free of the usual cave formations. Aha! She thought. This is confirmation of my theory! Nothing natural would be like this.

Excited, the group pushed deeper. The puddled floor of the cave turned into a smooth stone floor of set stone blocks that led around a bend. They hurried around it and through a stone entrance before stopping dead.

Just ahead of them the roof abruptly arched high above them, the columns with their intricately carved friezes and a massive fireplace on one wall so big they could all fit with room to spare.

All of this went unnoticed however, as the object in the middle of the room captivated them. A mountain of glittering gold, more than they’d ever seen or heard tell of in one place before, lay in front of them. Coins, statues, cups and jewels all lay piled on top of one another. Annabel actually felt giddy at the vast hoard that lay before her. She felt struck by the sheer magnificence of the treasure, the lust of which awakened a fire in her heart that she’d never felt before.

The others obviously felt the same way, for no one moved or made a sound. A mouse might have made the same noise as an elephant in the silence that followed.

Annabel threw off the spell first and moved closer, eyes alight with amazement. She reached the treasure and caressed the statue of a four-legged cat that looked back at her with emerald eyes.

“This is amazing! These treasures must date back millenia! Perhaps to our earliest ancestors! I can’t believe that this is really here!” She vaguely realized she was babbling as she stared at the golden face before her.

“It is indeed mistress.” Matcha agreed, her voice trembled in excitement as well. She was looking at something else however, a chest embossed with a strange creature on the lid. “But I can’t help but notice that many of the depictions on a few of these pieces don’t appear to be of a familiar people. They have no tails, for one thing, and no ears. Do you see, mistress?”

Annabel did see, but thought it irrelevant. A sculptor's fancy perhaps. Surely not a case to make for the existence of an entirely new species! She didn’t couch her words when she dismissed the possibility. “Matcha, are you suggesting that these are part of the “tailless” people put forth by that ridiculous fool, Professor Archem? Surely not.” She sniffed. “There’s never been hard evidence of the existence of such creatures.”

“Well, what about this piece?” Gavin asked curiously. He reached to grasp a cup that had several creatures engaged in some sport engraven on the side. “See here what I mean…what the devil?!”

The cry came when he pulled the cup free and a large pile of gold slid down in a manner like snow falling on the mountain. The avalanche revealed a wall of armored flesh the same color as the gold, while in the center was a large eye shut in apparent sleep.

Annabel had just enough time to wonder what manner of beast it could be when the eye slid open and a ray of red light shot out to pierce them. They froze in fright as the creature lifted its head from the pile.

It was enormous! The head alone was massive, the size of a royal coach at least! It had several horns angled backwards along its cheeks and on top its head which gave it a distinctly fearsome appearance, aided and abetted by the huge mouth filled with sharp fangs spaced evenly through its jaw. The entire affair was attached to a thickly muscled, serpentine neck that vanished back into the gold like a ship’s anchor line into the ocean. Yet all along the hall the gold shifted and moved as the rest of the hidden bulk of the monster came into view.

The beast spoke abruptly to them, sounding angry. “Well, thieves, who are you and what are you doing in my home?”