Prophecy by James Axler

themselves and the men who stood in front of them on foot or horseback.
    In truth, they had little real choice.
    Gunning the wag’s engine back into life, Ryan andKrysty drove across the arid and uneven area of the plain, surrounded on all sides by the riders. The horses kept their distance, whether from a desire to avoid any collision as Ryan erratically steered the wag over the more erratic excesses of the ground, or from a desire to show that their intent was not to ride sec on the inhabitants of the wag, was unclear. Either way, it allowed Ryan and Krysty to exchange words without fear of being overheard, while also avoiding the worst of the dust clouds thrown up by pounding hooves.
    They headed in a direction that took them on a parallel course to the ville of Brisbane. At certain points in the journey, they could see the black ribbon of the road as it moved momentarily closer, then farther from them, barely visible through the dust thrown up by their outrider escort.
    â€œGoing back to Brisbane?” Krysty questioned.
    â€œNear. Has to be,” Ryan said.
    â€œThen how come we never heard of anyone who looked like this when we were there?” she continued. “It’s not as if these guys wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Not if it was the crowd that lived in that pesthole.”
    â€œThey must keep themselves apart,” Ryan reasoned. “The big question is why they would do it.”
    â€œFigure we’ll get that answered sooner rather than later, lover,” Krysty said softly, watching the impassive figures of the Native Americans as they rode at pace with the wag. Their decorated bodies were hardened to the elements, and they did not flinch under the harsh glare of the sun, nor under the scouring of the constantdirt mist that swirled around them. Among the body decoration, she was sure that she could see signs of scarification. From what she had heard, that bespoke of rituals for manhood that would test their endurance for pain. Which, in turn, would explain why it was no problem for them to take the dust and the heat in their stride—or at least, the stride of their mounts.
    If they could take that amount of punishment, would they hesitate at handing out similar? And could either Ryan or herself—given the effects of the day before—count on their stamina being enough to handle this right now?
    She looked across at Ryan. He didn’t notice the look, his attention being focused on keeping the wag on course. But he looked weary. The effects of his concussion had not yet had time to wear off. How would he be if they faced trial and ordeal in any short space of time? Come to that, how would she deal with it?
    These thoughts preoccupied her so much that she did not notice that their path had begun to deviate from the road back to Brisbane. It was only when Ryan pointed that out, wondering out loud where they were headed, that she took in the change in direction.
    They were now headed away from the ville that stood alone on the dusty plains, their direction taking them toward one of the plateaued ranges that had peppered the horizon.
    â€œCould be a long haul,” Ryan commented. “Mebbe not…the way they’re taking us across this ground, that might be nearer than we thought…” It crossed his mindthat he may have made an error of judgment in heading the way he had when pursued by the coldhearts. If he had taken this route, could they have headed for the mountains and evaded their pursuers? Would they have skirted the storm? Would they still be together as a group, and not scattered to who knew where?
    He shook his head, as if to clear it. What had happened couldn’t be changed. It had been the best call at the time. He had to stay focused and stay frosty so that he and Krysty could face what lay ahead.
    They journeyed on as the sun moved across the empty sky. As it began to sink to the horizon, Ryan could see that the route they had traveled