-Chasing the Wind-
                         By J. Austin Wilde
                         Fission Park Press



J. Austin Wilde
Minister of Propaganda and
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man,
Fission Park Press
jaustin@aloha.net



                             Synopsis



     Ranma and Akane are caught up in the middle of a scientific 
pursuit of global electromagnetic events. The event in Nerima 
affects both of their ki’s, causing them to lose martial focus and 
suffer terrible nightmares. The only way to keep the nightmares 
at bay is to stay in close proximity when they sleep.
     Ranma contacts his friend from the Second Korean War, Hiro 
Ohata, who is working for the scientists as a ‘Man Friday.’ Hiro 
arranges for them to come to England. Ranma and Akane join 
Professor McFogg, the leader of the scientists, in his search for 
events.
     They also run into a mysterious woman who has been 
following them. She calls herself Anazali, and hints that in the 
search for these events, not only will it repair their disrupted 
ki’s, but will also end Ranma’s Jusenkyo curse. After 
experiencing events in Maes Howe Scotland, and Granada 
Spain, they receive strange and disturbing visions.
     Nabiki, Tatewaki Kuno, and Ukyo are abducted by agents of 
a Russian research team led by Doctor Grigory Casimir. Casimir 
is unaware of the abductions, which are ordered by his former 
KGB assistant, Ivan Tarchenko. Tarchenko conducts an 
interrogation and torture of Ukyo to learn of the whereabouts 
of Ranma and Akane.
     Kuno breaks them loose and the three of them flee across the 
southern Ukraine. They are pursued by the huge and vicious 
Ukrainian, Fyodor. Fyodor nearly kills them along the Dniester 
River, but they are rescued by a man named Palandir.
     Palandir takes them to his brother Aerandir, who delivers the 
three to his uncle aboard his ketch, Kelebros. Aerandir befriends 
the three during their short journey to an island in the Aegean Sea. 
He also tells them that he is an 8000 year old descendant of an 
ancient and now destroyed civilization. He also warns them that 
his uncle is attempting to harness the incalculable powers of the 
Earth, known as the Heart of the World; an act that will surely 
cause a disaster for the Earth. The Heart of the World becomes 
tangible in 88 year cycles, and is fact the climax of the cycle of 
events the scientists are chasing.
     Aerandir takes Kuno and Nabiki with him to Monaco, with 
Ukyo electing to stay behind and rest. Kuno seeks to fulfill his 
oath to Ranma, and Nabiki accompanies him if only to ‘look 
after him.’ Aerandir has an invitation to the Prince of Monaco’s 
Grand Charity Ball.
     Professor McFogg is also invited, and takes Ranma and Akane 
with him to Monaco. Ranma and Akane are reunited with Nabiki 
and Kuno, and exchange stories. That night at the Ball, Ranma 
proposes marriage to Akane, but before either can share their 
joyous decision, they are attacked by Fyodor. Fyodor succeeds 
in capturing Ranma, But is driven off by Hiro and Kuno before 
he can get Akane. Doctor Casimir is outraged by this act, and 
joins Professor McFogg’s group.
     Working feverishly to find where Ranma has been taken, the 
group plans a rescue before Tarchenko finishes with him and has 
him killed. Ranma is discovered to be kept in the Russian Embassy 
in Paris. A rescue force of Hiro, Kuno, Nabiki, Akane, Clay, 
Ferguson, Aerandir, and Anazali go after him. 
     A fierce battle is fought between all parties, including one 
between the brothers Aerandir and Palandir. Fyodor pursues the 
escaping Ranma and Akane to the Eiffel Tower, where he throws 
them over the side. The two cling to the ironwork frame, hanging 
on for their lives when the next event hits the Eiffel Tower. 
Fyodor is driven off, and Ranma and Akane are rescued by 
Hiro and Kuno. During the event Ranma and Akane receive a 
vision wherein the souls of the destroyed civilization reveal that 
they are trapped within the Heart of the World, but no attempt 
must be made to harness it to free them. They tell the two that 
they must stop any attempts to do so. The rescue ends with 
them flying back to England aboard the Catalina seaplane 
Bettie’s Dare. 
     Ryoga Hibiki wanders on through a jungle with no idea where 
he is. He meets a strange golden-skinned man who offers him a 
meal and a place to sleep. Ryoga accepts because he has nothing 
better to do.



                             Part Nine:
                          Gather the Storm



                            Chapter One



     Ryoga Hibiki couldn’t believe his luck could get any worse. 
He had finally found someone in all of India (at least that was 
where he thought he was) that he could talk to. The man had 
given him a comfortable bed to sleep in, and the best food he 
had eaten in a long time. (Even if wasn’t Japanese cuisine.) But 
now he had gotten himself lost. Again.
     “Dammit!” He swore between clenched teeth. “I didn’t 
even get a chance to ask him where I was!”
     **Much less even thank him...He probably thinks I’m some 
kind of ingrate!**
     He spent the rest of the day trying to find his way back to 
the small little cabin where he had spent the night. There were 
no landmarks to search for, there was only jungle, and it all 
looked the same. He was just hacking through jungle now, he 
couldn’t even find the nominal game trail he had started upon in 
the morning
     As the last of the sweltering day wore on, Ryoga conceded 
that it was time to lay down to sleep. He wasn’t asleep longer 
than an hour before a familiar voice stirred him to wakefulness. 
He opened his eyes to see the same man who had taken him in 
the day before squatting next to him. His faintly golden skin 
glowed in the waning light of the day.
     “Was my hospitality that poor?” The man asked him in a 
joking tone of voice.
     “No!” Ryoga blurted, happy to see him and a little embarrassed 
that the man might think that.
     “I was worried,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t entertain 
guests very often, and I feared that your disappearance was a 
reflection upon my stale hospitality.”
     “Not at all!” Ryoga cried. Now he was really embarrassed. 
“It’s just that I uh, well, you see I kinda have this problem...”
     “Problem?”
     “Yeah...” Ryoga made a weak grin and tried to laugh it off. “I 
sort of get lost easy.”
     The man nodded sagely and looked around the jungle. “Yes, I 
could see where one could get lost in the middle of this quite easily. 
Fortunately for the both of us I have lived here for a good while 
and know the way.”
     He looked back to Ryoga.
     “Are you hungry?”
     Ryoga was in fact famished. He had been so desperate to find 
his way back to the cabin that he hadn’t eaten any of his meager 
store of traveling rations. He bobbed his head in agreement.
     “Well then, perhaps we should retire to my home. I have a nice 
bit of venison roasting, and it should be quite tender by now.”
     He stood up and began walking up the slope of the gentle hill 
Ryoga lay against. Ryoga hastily got to his feet and followed the 
man. He wasn’t going to let him out of his sight.
     “Excuse me, sir?” Ryoga asked as he caught up with the man.
     “Yes? What is it?”
     “I uh, I never did ask you your name...”
     The man stopped and turned to face him. He extended his hand 
to him. Ryoga took it in his. He was about to shake it when he 
realized the strange man had no such intentions. He simply clasped 
Ryoga’s hand in his for a moment.
     “I am known by many names, but my given name is Minhiriath. 
A small bit of humor on my parents’ part. They were both named 
after rivers.”
     Ryoga was pretty sure there was a joke in there somewhere, 
but he was at a loss to find it. He tried to laugh, decided it wasn’t 
appropriate if he didn’t catch the joke, and instead introduced 
himself.
     “I am Hibiki Ryoga.”
     The man smiled and released his grip.
     “Am I to know you as Hibiki, or as Ryoga, or as Hibiki Ryoga?”
     Ryoga wasn’t sure how to respond. Did he really know this 
man well enough to warrant the familiarity of first names? The 
man was his elder though. 
     “Uh, Ryoga would be okay.”
     “Ryoga it is then! Come Ryoga! If I am half starved, then I can 
imagine how your belly calls out to be filled!”
     Ryoga followed Minhiriath up the hill. To his chagrin he found 
that the cabin was at the top of the hill, and that he had been 
walking circles around it all day. He just couldn’t believe his 
bad luck!
     Minhiriath opened the door for him and bade him enter. He 
would be along shortly, and wouldn’t he sit and make himself 
comfortable? Ryoga stepped inside a little self-consciously. 
Minhiriath walked around the corner of the cabin humming to 
himself.
     The inside of the cabin was as he remembered it from the 
previous day. Rather spartan furnishings, all made of wood save 
for a single wrought iron chair that sat unused in the corner. A 
wooden table with four chairs stood next to the simple kitchen 
and wood burning cooking stove. Great bunches of red peppers 
hung from the high open beamed ceiling to dry. Near the fireplace, 
which was cold and unused in a great while, were two worn out 
but very comfortable old upholstered chairs and a small finely 
crafted and carved coffee table made of oak. Ryoga was no 
expert on trees, but was pretty sure there were no oaks around 
here. A great many books and papers cluttered a desk in the 
corner of the room farthest from everything else.
     The place had a very homey and comfortable feel to it. 
Nothing distinct, just a very reassuring lived-in kind of feel. 
The cabin radiated well being. He watched the dust glitter through 
a glass window in the kitchen alcove and sat down in one of the 
chairs. His weariness was replaced with a sense of drowsy 
contentment.
     Minhiriath appeared some time later with a sizzling skewer of 
meat and several fired clay bowls balanced atop each other. Ryoga 
stood to help him, but the gold skinned man waved him off. He 
set the food on the table, which Ryoga now noticed had places 
laid out for two.
     “We came home at just the right time,” Minhiriath observed. 
“The meat is so tender it’s nearly falling off the skewer.” He 
gestured to the simple but inviting spread upon the table. 
     “Help yourself Ryoga, while I fetch the bread and the butter. 
Do you drink wine or would you prefer something else? I have a 
very fine wheat beer; I racked it into casks just last month and 
should be quite drinkable.”
     Ryoga made his way towards the table.
     “Water please,” he told him.
     Minhiriath clucked disapprovingly. “Are you certain? It’s very 
good wine. And the beer...” His eyes seemed to drift away 
dreamily at the thought.
     Ryoga shrugged. His host seemed to be very politely insisting.
     “Well, a little I guess.”
     The golden skinned man gave him a toothy sparkling smile. 
“You won’t be disappointed my friend.”
     He stepped outside again.
     Ryoga took a seat at the table. In spite of the invitation to dig 
in from his host, he decided the polite thing to do would be to wait. 
Minhiriath stepped back inside with a loaf of bread, a crock of 
butter precariously balanced on the top of his head, and two large 
mugs of ice cold beer. Ryoga could only conclude that the man 
had an ice house or something like it around, as the cabin had no 
electricity.
     Minhiriath set a mug of beer before Ryoga, then caught the 
butter as it slipped off his head and placed it next to the bread. He 
took a hit from his mug and then sat down across from Ryoga.
     “I admire your sense of manners Ryoga, but if you don’t start 
eating I shall stave your skull in.” He told him with a glint in his 
eye and a tone of voice that seemed to say he wasn’t kidding.
     Ryoga took the hint. He carved a large piece of meat off the 
skewer with a knife as Minhiriath began buttering a slice of bread. 
He crushed a few dried red peppers over Ryoga’s venison and 
then sat back to watch him eat.
     Ryoga knew the peppers weren’t terribly hot, but had a rich 
and lively flavor to them. He had been eating such highly seasoned 
food for two months now, and had grown accustomed to it. He 
took a bite and nearly melted with delight. The meat was so tender 
and full of flavor that his tastebuds were about to explode with 
overload. It might have been the dull routine of weeks of traveling 
rations, but the food was absolutely amazing.
     He washed it down with a drink of the beer. It was mellow and 
a little nutty flavored. It was also ice cold. He took another drink.
     Minhiriath laughed and began to eat as well.


     Later, when the two of them had eaten enough for six grown 
men and the sun had long since set, they sat at the table and drank 
more of the beer and talked. Ryoga was happy to have someone 
to talk to, and Minhiriath seemed to be of a similar mind. Ryoga 
talked about his travels, his uneasiness at admitting his problems 
of misdirection washed away with a few mugs of Minhiriath’s beer. 
     His host for his part talked of his garden and his wine and beer 
making, and of the local squabbles that sometimes shattered the 
peace of the hill he called home. Ryoga was familiar with them as 
well. He had made a few enemies among the bandits and 
mercenaries that wandered down from the nearby mountains in 
his travels. 
     “I always thought India was a peaceful place,” Ryoga remarked.
     Minhiriath gave him a funny look. 
     “I’m sorry Ryoga, it must be the beer, but I thought you said 
India a moment ago.”
     Ryoga began to get that sinking feeling again.
     “Uh... You mean this isn’t India?”
     Minhiriath barked out laughter. Ryoga began to blush with 
shame.
     “Heavens no, Ryoga!” He cried merrily. “You spoke of 
misdirection, but you honestly thought this was India?” He 
laughed again, then stopped when he saw how ashamed and 
sad Ryoga looked.
     “I am sorry Ryoga. I know this must be terrible to have to 
listen to. I regret to say that you are a continent or two off course. 
You are in southeastern Peru. The closet thing approximating a 
city around here is Puerto Maldonado about three days walk 
from here on one of the feeder tributaries to the Amazon River.”
     The color drained from Ryoga’s face.
     **Peru? I’m in Peru? Where the hell is Peru?**
     Ryoga raised his hand slowly, wanting to speak.
     “What is it, man?” Minhiriath asked him.
     “Where exactly _is_ Peru?”
     Minhiriath decided that Ryoga was quite sincere in his 
ignorance. There was no point in belittling him any further on 
it, the young man had obviously suffered enough.
     “The western coast of South America my friend. A very long 
way from India I’m afraid.”
     “I’m supposed to be in China,” Ryoga lamented. “How did 
I get here? How?”
     Minhiriath thought back to Ryoga’s wandering tales.
     “You said you did a lot of traveling in the dead of winter, 
correct?”
     Ryoga nodded sadly and took another drink of his beer.
     “And you said you were sure you didn’t cross any oceans, 
correct?”
     Ryoga nodded again and took yet another drink.
     Minhiriath thought about it for a moment, but there was only 
one explanation, however unlikely it seemed. 
     “Well my guess is that you somehow blundered north into 
Russia and then crossed over the Bering Strait into Alaska while 
it was frozen over. Although how you came all the way south, 
passing through the United States, and getting here without 
realizing that you weren’t in Asia anymore astounds me.”
     Ryoga blushed again.
     “Well you see, part of my problem with me getting lost all the 
time might have something to do with thinking about other things 
than where I’m going. I do that a lot when I walk.”
     “You must have had something that weighed very heavily 
upon your mind that you didn’t notice the United States of 
America.” 
     Ryoga stared down into his nearly empty mug of beer. 
     “Yeah... I guess you could say that...”
     Minhiriath took Ryoga’s mug and dipped it into the cask that 
he had long since brought inside. He handed the full and foamy 
cup back to him. Ryoga took another drink.
     “I think this may be something you wish to talk about, but if 
that is not the case then I shall make no more mention of it,” 
Minhiriath said quietly.
     Ryoga nodded and drained half of the mug. His host declined 
to fill it again for him; the young man had drank enough for one 
night. Instead he sat there in the uncomfortable silence that 
followed and watched his guest lower his head deep in thought.
**Akane...** Ryoga thought sadly. **Akari...** He sighed in his 
drunkenness. **I’ll never see either of you again...**
     Minhiriath watched as Ryoga drifted away. He wasn’t 
expecting the man to roll forward and spill his mug of beer all 
over himself. He certainly wasn’t expecting what followed.
     Ryoga began to squeal in drunken rage within the folds of his 
clothes. When the little black pig stuck his snout out from under 
the dirty olive drab tank top with a cursing grunt, Minhiriath’s 
eyes went wide for a second. Ryoga began to blush shamefully 
as best as a pig can.
     “Good heavens, Ryoga!” He cried. “It appears misdirection 
is the _least_ of your problems!”
     Ryoga squealed and nodded his head. His little eyes were beady 
and bloodshot.
     “Is there anything I can do? Does this wear off in time?”
     Ryoga shook his head and tried to grunt an explanation.
     “I’m sorry, I’m not following you... Wait just a moment. I’m 
just a little out of practice with this.”
     Minhiriath squinted a little and seemed to stare into Ryoga’s 
skull.
     ^Now what changes you back?^ He thought into Ryoga’s mind.
     Ryoga scooted to the back of the chair in surprise.
     ^Calm down Ryoga, if I wanted to eat you I would have done 
so when you were a man. There’s more meat on you that way. 
Now I asked you what changes you back?^
     Ryoga wasn’t sure what to make of this development, but 
thought back in response:
     **Hot water.**
     Minhiriath nodded. Ryoga was just a little drunk, and his 
thoughts were scattered and slurred, but hot water seemed to 
make sense; as cold water (or beer) had changed him in the first 
place.
     “There! That wasn’t so difficult. Wait right here and I’ll put 
a kettle on.”
     Minhiriath got up and set a kettle on the cook stove to boil. 
Ryoga squealed dejectedly and settled into the folds of his clothes. 
With the shock of his transformation over, he was starting to feel 
the beer again (in his bloodstream anyway). He began to pass out.
     ^Would you prefer we wait until morning to change you back?^
     Ryoga nodded sleepily and passed out.
     When the young pig was fast asleep, Minhiriath picked up him 
gently and carried him to one of the chairs. He noticed the bandanna 
around his neck and thought it was a little silly that it should have 
stayed on him when he had lost the rest of his clothes in the change. 
He set a thin wool blanket over him and retired to his desk where 
he lit a few oil lamps.
     As Ryoga began to make piggy snoring sounds, he poured over 
his books and papers. Taking a calculator out of a drawer, he began 
punching in numbers and scribbling the results on a large chart. 
With a compass and straight edge he began tracing out lines that 
if one looked out the window, would approximate the tracks of 
stars moving across an ancient sky.



                            *       *       *



     Hiro rapped softly on the door and let himself in with a slight 
limp. It was just past two in the afternoon of the next day. They 
had been fighting for their lives in Paris only last night. He was 
wearing a bandage on his temple where a bullet had grazed him. 
Doctor Vickers had only used three stitches to close up his head 
and six for his leg.
     “Hello Hiro,” Akane said fondly to him. She was in a 
nightgown lying beneath the sheets on her four-poster bed. 
Ranma was still asleep, head laying against her bosom. She 
stroked at his hair idly as he slept. Nabiki sat next to the bed, 
apparently chatting with her younger sister. The balcony window 
was open, letting the warm June sun into the room. A pleasant 
and sweet smelling breeze carried through.
     “Has he been asleep this whole time?” Hiro asked in a whisper.
     “He’s exhausted,” Akane replied. “But he bounces back quickly, 
so I don’t think he’ll be this way for long.”
     “How is everyone else?” Nabiki asked.
     “They’re coming around now. The Professor was talking about 
having a late lunch or perhaps a very large supper served early. I 
can get you some tea and biscuits if you like.”
     Nabiki thanked him but declined.
     “Any word from Aerandir?” She asked instead.
     “I haven’t seen or heard from him since last night. I wouldn’t 
worry though. I think he can take care of himself.”
     Hiro watched Ranma sleep in Akane’s arms and a smile of 
pride crept across his face. 
     “Seeing that makes everything worth it,” he said, and turned 
to leave.
     “Hiro?” Akane asked him. He stopped and looked back to her.
     “Yeah?”
     “Thank you,” she said warmly. She wanted to say more, but 
there was just so much. Hiro understood. He bowed for her and 
left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
     “He’s such a dear,” Nabiki remarked when he had gone.
     “Hiro’s always looking after Ranma and I,” Akane agreed. “I 
think it bothers Ranma a little, but I don’t mind the attention. 
We’ve had some interesting talks together over the last couple 
weeks.”
     She continued to run her fingers through Ranma’s hair as she 
spoke. Nabiki grinned to see the two so close and affectionate. It 
was a little strange, but it was a good kind of strange. Everything 
that classified as strange recently was way out there. This was 
more in her league.
     “Hiro’s right,” Nabiki said after a little while of watching her 
sister. “Seeing you two like this really makes everything worth it. 
I’m really happy for you Akane.”
     Akane looked down to Ranma. He continued to sleep oblivious 
to them.
     “He was so beautiful,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know what 
to do. I thought I was just going to burst with feelings... When he 
got down on one knee and took my hands and looked up at me... 
I knew I was seeing that tender part of him that was always there 
but usually hiding... Even with what happened after, I’ll always 
cherish that moment.”
     Her eyes began to dew a little. 
     “Oh, I thought I lost him forever.”
     She kissed the top of his head and gave him a squeeze. He 
murmured something in his sleep. 
     “He is the biggest jerk in the world sometimes,” she observed. 
“But when he isn’t, I don’t think there’s anyone sweeter than him.”
     “Have you set a date yet?”
     “No,” Akane replied with a sigh. “I’m not too worried about it, 
either. I know Ranma still has a few misgivings about this. Hiro 
tried to explain to me what Ranma said to him in Spain, and I can 
see why he feels that way. I won’t rush him into this.”
     “I’m glad you’re giving this some thought,” Nabiki told her. 
“I want to see you two happy together, and it sounds like you’re 
going about it the right way. Now all you have to do is convince 
Daddy that it’s a good idea to wait a little longer.”
     Akane grinned for her. “We’ve held him off this long.”
     Nabiki had to laugh at that.
     Innael, Birathiel, and Gliredhel appeared at the balcony window 
then with bright chirps of greeting. Nabiki couldn’t believe her eyes 
as the songbirds looked at her and chirped some more for her. 
     Akane looked up from Ranma and saw them.
     “Oh Nabiki!” She cried. “They followed you!”
     Nabiki stood up and called them by name. Each bird twittered 
once in reply and flew to her arm. They sang a brief aria to her 
before fluttering over to perch on a chair back and watch Ranma 
and Akane. Bartok’s Third Concerto for Piano and Orchestra 
was the afternoon’s performance, with the three supplying the 
woodwinds, strings, and a spirited piano allegretto from Innael. 
     “I really love them,” Nabiki said fondly. “They are _so_ 
amazing!”
     Aerandir appeared at the top of the balcony then, knocking at 
the window sill as he entered. He was dressed in white trousers 
and shirt with a black cape over his shoulders and black tricorner 
hat with yellow plume. His broadsword was conspicuously at his 
side.
     “I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he said to them.
     “Not at all,” Nabiki replied.
     He gestured to the birds.
     “Someone left them in Monaco,” he remarked. “They were 
a little lonely without their mistress about. So I offered to show 
them the way.”
     “Thank you Aerandir,” Nabiki said gratefully.
     He bowed for her and doffed his hat.
     “Your servant,” he told her. He straightened himself and made 
a sweeping motion with his hat to Ranma.
     “How does he fare?”
     “He’s fine,” Akane replied. “Doctor Vickers pulled a small 
piece of metal out of his back, but it wasn’t very serious. Only 
two stitches. He’s just tired because of the nightmares keeping 
him from any sleep.”
     Aerandir nodded in understanding. “Would that I were able 
to do for him what I did for you...”
     Akane smiled gratefully for him. “I can’t thank you enough 
for what you did for Ranma and I.”
     “There is no need, Akane.” He put his hat back on. “I must 
be off, this dry land is anathema to me I’m afraid. I just wanted 
to see that you were safe and well before I departed.”
     “You’re leaving? You just got here,” Nabiki said.
     “Fear not Nabiki, you and I shall meet again soon enough. 
For now know that I have other matters to attend to.”
     He stepped up to the balcony.
     “Farewell Akane. Farewell Nabiki. I would have liked to have 
spoken with Ranma, but it can wait. Farewell!”
     He jumped out of the window and was gone by the time Nabiki 
reached the balcony.
     “He could have used the door,” she remarked.
     Ranma by now had stirred to wakefulness. He yawned groggily 
before feeling Akane’s warm hands brush against his face. With 
his eyes still shut he clasped them in his and turned over to face 
her. She pulled him close and he began to kiss her deeply.
     Nabiki whistled appreciatively for them.
     Ranma and Akane broke from the kiss with a start, and the 
two of them began to blush furiously at Nabiki.
     “Don’t let me interrupt anything,” she said slyly to them.
     Ranma yawned again, still blushing. “Morning, Nabiki.”
     Nabiki winked at him. “It’s not morning anymore you lazy lug.”
     “Hmmmm...” He murmured. He stretched out on the bed, 
playfully pushing against Akane as he did so. “Coulda slept for 
another coupla hours without that racket.” He pointed to the 
birds, which ceased their singing in response.
     Nabiki affected an immediate look of disapproval.
     “No culture whatsoever,” she huffed. “Very well Akane, I leave 
you to your barbarian fiancé.” 
     She opened the door and looked to the songbirds.
     “Come girls,” she told them.
     Innael, Birathiel, and Gliredhel chirped in response and took 
wing after her. 
     She closed the door as the last one swooped past.
     Ranma looked to Akane.
     “Those are some well trained birds,” he observed.
     “And _you_ had to get them upset with you!” Akane scolded 
him in reply.
     “Aw, they’re just birds. It’s not like I hurt their feelings or 
anything.”
     “I’m not so sure about that.”
     He had to laugh about that one. The look Akane gave him then 
silenced him. He stretched once more and rolled to his feet. He 
winced softly as he stood, and she saw his hand move to his back. 
He was wearing only a pair of boxers, and the bandage gauze-taped 
to his back was plainly visible above the waistband. Numerous 
bruises covered his body, some recent and others fading.
     “Are you all right?” She asked him.
     “Just a little tender,” he replied. “Plus I feel like I got run over 
by a couple busses. I’ll be okay once I get a bath and something 
to eat.”
     He walked into the bathroom, and she could hear him making 
his rounds at the toilet. 
     “Remember to put the seat down!” She told him. **Gods, its 
like we’re married already!**
     “You make it sound like we’re already married!” He protested 
from the bathroom. He flushed, and then the sounds of the tub 
running could be heard. For this reason he didn’t hear Akane 
start to laugh. 
     A rather interesting thought crossed her mind then as the water 
rushed into the tub and steam wafted out of the door. She heard 
the snap of his waistband as he took off his boxers. She stood up 
and headed for the bathroom, pulling her nightgown up over her 
head as she walked through the threshold of the door.



                            Chapter Two



     It was with no small trepidation that Ivan Tarchenko stepped 
through the heavy wooden doors and into the mahogany paneled 
room. A haze of tobacco smoke hung in the air, lending to the 
oppressive pall that hung over his head. Sunlight streamed through 
the hazy glazed windows in stark beams, mingling with the smoke 
and providing absolutely no warmth or comfort.
     As he expected, they were waiting for him.
     There were a dozen men sitting around a table made of 
mahogany that was stained jet black. Several had crystal cups 
of tea before them, while others smoked and sipped from brandy 
snifters. There were another two dozen men at the fringes of the 
light along the paneled walls; bodyguards. All eyes were upon him.
    He knew who these men were. A medley of the old guard 
Communists including Zhukerov -Leonid Brezhnev hard-liners 
to the core, a pair of Georgian gangsters, a wealthy Muscovite 
with trading partners throughout Europe and the United States, 
and more mobsters from Kiev, St. Petersburg, and Minsk. The 
bodyguards were mafia torpedoes or former KGB operatives 
with the occasional ex-Spetznaz trooper thrown in for good 
measure.
     Part of him wanted to look down at the floor to make sure 
there weren’t any dropcloths under his feet. He resolved not to 
give them the satisfaction. If there was to be a bullet for him 
today, he would take it standing up, facing them.
     “Punctual at least,” one of the men at the table remarked 
when he shut the door behind him. There were a few muted 
murmurs in reply. A few streams of smoke rose to the ceiling.
     “I am ready to make my report,” Tarchenko said to them.
     “There is no need,” the first man replied grimly. “We are 
well aware of the events that have recently transpired.”
     There was silence as the man gave him a thoughtful pause.
     “It was farcical,” the man, who Tarchenko knew as Groschov, 
went on. “Operatives killed, our embassy in France crippled, our 
nation openly disgraced by such terrorism, precious hard currency 
squandered. A farce. We are deeply disappointed in you Mister 
Tarchenko.”
     Tarchenko waited for that bullet.
     “Instead of making a report you can tell us what you intend to 
do to put the project back on track,” Groschov said. A few more 
plumes of smoke were blown towards the ceiling.
     Tarchenko knew that his life depended on his answer. This 
wasn’t the days of the Party. These men were gangsters and 
thugs who would think nothing of putting a bullet in the back 
of his head and leaving him to be found in Gorky Park. If they 
wanted him found at all.
     “Based on Doctor Casimir’s work on the revised model, we 
have determined where the final event will be held,” Tarchenko 
said. He hoped it was tantalizing enough for them.
     “Doctor Casimir tendered his resignation by telephone this 
morning,” Groschov replied sternly. “He informed us of his intent 
to assist Professor McFogg.”
     That was a surprise Tarchenko wasn’t ready for. Undaunted 
at least outwardly, he moved on as if it wasn’t important. 
     “We have no need of him,” he said firmly. “His model is 
functional, and we have the rest of the research group to carry on. 
We also have the notebooks of his father André, which detail the 
necessary steps to contain the energy of the Heart of the World.”
     This last statement was his trump. Not even Casimir had known 
that the books existed. Tarchenko had a second research team 
putting together this final project under the old man’s nose. It 
would be tricky without the Doctor for advice, but he was certain 
they could capture the Heart of the World on their own.
     “And what of the two Wayfinders?” Groschov asked him. 
Tarchenko wasn’t sure if the man was satisfied.
     “A costly mistake sir,” Tarchenko admitted. “We have no need 
of them. I shall eliminate them at the first opportunity. Doctor 
Casimir as well.”
     That went without saying. He saw a few of them nodding their 
heads in agreement with his declaration. Execution suited their 
mindset very well.
     Groschov consulted quietly with the others. Tarchenko strained 
his ears to listen in, but could not tell what they were saying. He 
knew they were deciding if they approved or not, but had no idea 
which way it was going.
     Goschov cleared his throat for attention.
     “Very well Mister Tarchenko, you have convinced us to 
continue funding and supporting this project. You will report 
back this time tomorrow with a detailed plan of execution to 
secure for us the Heart of the World. That is all.”
     Tarchenko nodded crisply for them and left the room. Only 
when the door had closed did he heave a great gasp of relief. He 
wiped away the sudden cold sweat from his brow and fought 
back a shudder. 
     Pulatski was waiting for him in the hall. His right arm was in a 
sling from where he had been shot in the embassy. He was a little 
strung out on painkillers, but coherent enough to do his job.
     “I gather by the fact that you have left the room on your feet 
that they are satisfied with the project?” He asked Tarchenko.
     “We continue, but only by the grace of Casimir’s model and 
your prism.”
     “I was told by Gulayev that Grigory resigned to join McFogg’s 
group.”
     “I just learned it myself.”
     “Is it wise to continue without him?”
     Tarchenko gave him a solemn look.
     “I would say it was in our best interests to continue without him. 
A collective farm in Siberia is no longer an option in these enlightened 
times.”



                          *       *      *



     Ukyo Kuonji couldn’t believe her luck had turned so favorably 
for her. She was the most peaceful and content she had ever been 
in her life. Sarophan’s island was just the getaway she needed. 
     The Ranma dreams had come every night. Every dream had 
left her at ease. Never once had she wept because of them.
     She wandered barefoot along the sandy beach, contemplating 
a swim in the warm lagoon even as she thought about her dreams. 
The breakers rolled in at her feet, foamy water washing along past 
her ankles. The cry of gulls was distant and calming. The sky 
was blue and scudded with high fleecy white clouds.
     The next wave that rolled in settled it for her. She waded out 
into the warm water and dove headlong into the next wave. 
When she popped out of the water she threw her long fall of 
hair back and laughed.
     “How are we this fine day?” A voice asked her.
     Ukyo looked to the beach. Sarophan was there, wearing khaki 
bermuda shorts and a white cotton shirt with the tails hanging out. 
He wore a wide brimmed straw hat and smoked from a long 
curved pipe with a deep bowl. His silvery skin shimmered with 
the sunlight reflected off the water.
     “Just wonderful, Sarophan!” She replied. They had come to 
be very familiar with names during her short stay.
     “That is wonderful, Ianthe. I am glad to see you in such high 
spirits.”
     Ukyo smiled for the old man, who brushed at his beard 
thoughtfully. She waded towards him, her white bathing suit 
brilliant in the noon day sun. She was getting quite the healthy 
tan, and her skin glowed.
     “I wonder Ianthe, if you would walk with me for a bit. I have 
something to discuss with you.”
     Ukyo thought nothing of it. They had taken several walks 
together. He would tell her stories of the ancient world and its 
many wonders and peoples. At night he would light up the skies 
with his magic, and entertain her and his servants. 
     Yes, _magic._ It was the only explanation for what he could 
do. The fact that it was magic didn’t bother her, she was well 
accustomed to the strange and the supernatural from her brief time 
in Nerima. On the contrary she thought it was wondrous and 
beautiful. 
     If she had any regrets about her stay with Sarophan, it was 
that Nabiki wasn’t here to share it with her. She found that she 
missed her. She even missed Kuno, if only because the banter 
between him and Nabiki was so precious. She hoped the two 
would get it together. As much as she thought Kuno was a 
pompous ass, with Nabiki at least he was cut down to size.
     She joined Sarophan as they walked along the beach. The man 
had an easy stride, one suited to walking and talking. She got in 
step with him and he began to talk. He didn’t mince words.
     “I am glad to see you in high spirits Ianthe, but I also sense 
great trouble within your heart.”
     Ukyo trembled slightly when he said this.
     “Forgive me Ianthe, but I felt I must say something. I am 
concerned for you.”
     Ukyo nodded slowly. “It’s okay Sarophan,” she said. “I guess 
there is something I’ve been meaning to talk about. It’s just that 
I’ve had a hard time speaking about it to myself.”
     “I am a patient listener,” Sarophan laughed.
     His laughter was infectious. Ukyo began to laugh as well. “I 
bet you are!”
     He waited for her to speak on her own. After some minutes 
of walking she did.
     “I’m living with a regret,” she began. “One I can’t let go of yet.”
     He nodded in reply but held his tongue. He waited for her to 
continue.
     “I lost my chance at someone I love because of a stupid mistake... 
It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know better... But then much later I 
could have had another chance with him, and I blew it by waiting 
too long.”
     Sarophan patted her shoulder affectionately. She explained to 
him everything about Ranma and all that had transpired in the last 
three years between them. Her tears when they came were slow 
and bitter.
     “If only I had come to Nerima sooner,” she sobbed against her 
will. “Before he fell in love with Akane. It would have been so easy 
and no one would have been hurt.”
     She sobbed again. “But I lost him. I lost him because I waited 
too long to face him again... I could have been like the others and 
tried harder, but then there was Akane... I don’t hate her... She’s 
sort of my friend. I didn’t want to hurt her, things just got 
confused.”
     Sarophan nodded again and stroked at her hair. Ukyo threw 
herself against him and began to weep fiercely. He put an arm 
around her and whispered soothingly into her ear.
     “What if there was a way to start over again?” He asked her.
     She stifled a sob and tried to reply.
     “I don’t see how.”
     “If there was a way to start over again. Before Ranma fell in 
love with Akane. Before she fell in love with him. Would you 
take that chance?”
     She cried some more. He stroked at her long fall of dark 
brown hair, still damp from her swim, and waited for her to 
answer.
     “Yes,” she sobbed. “I would.”
     “I can give you another chance, Ianthe. But you must be 
willing to take it.”
     She looked up at him, brilliant green eyes wet and shining 
with tears.
     “How?”
     “When the Heart of the World rises there will be enough power 
for me to give you that second chance. You have seen what I can 
do, Ianthe. I tell you that it is nothing before the power of the 
Heart of the World. A tallow candle before the furnace of suns. 
Any wish, any desire you have may be fulfilled in that moment. 
Even the streams of time may flow as I direct them then.”
     She looked into his silvery eyes and knew that he spoke the truth.
     “No one gets hurt, Ianthe... Everyone gets what they want. 
You have the love of Ranma Saotome. He has the love of his 
childhood friend. Akane is freed from marrying against her will.”
     She nodded her head slowly and the tears slowed.
     “Is this what you want?” He asked her.
     She closed her eyes and thought of Ranma holding her in 
his arms.
     “Yes.”
     “Then I shall give you that chance, Ianthe.”
     She closed her arms around him and squeezed. A final sob 
slipped past her lips. He gave her a fatherly smile and touched 
at her waist to get her walking again. They continued down to 
the far end of the beach.
     “I have noted that you are something of a martial artist,” he 
observed.
     “Yeah, sort of.”
     “While we wait for the Heart of the World I shall teach you 
something. It’s a bit flashy, I confess, but it may come in very 
handy in the future. For I shall tell you this: there are those who 
would stop me from taming the Heart of the World.”
     Ukyo looked at him.
     “The Russians?”
     Sarophan nodded.
     “The Russians, yes.. There are others as well. I shall tell you 
about them as we train.”



                          *       *       *



     Tatewaki Kuno knelt before his sword in the solarium. He was 
meditating. Hiro and Durango drank coffee and played chess while 
D-Day dozed with a copy of the Times of London over his face. 
Ferguson hammered away on his lap-top computer while carrying 
on a discussion with Doctor Casimir. 
     Nabiki strode into the room with her three songbirds flitting in 
deft circles about her. She was bursting with a smug satisfaction 
at their adoration of her. She felt rather like a goddess.
     Hiro looked up at her and his jaw dropped. Innael, Birathiel, 
and Gliredhel swooped over his head to settle on a bookshelf over 
him. They twittered at him, as if they were laughing at his expense. 
Durango looked up at them with one eye closed.
     “<Where the hell did _they_ come from?>” He asked.
     Nabiki smiled graciously for him as she stepped up behind Kuno. 
She bent at the knees and settled her elbows upon his shoulders, 
which had the effect of killing his meditation. She leaned her head 
close to his, snickered, and continued to smile at Hiro.
     “<They came looking for me,>” she told him. The birds chirped 
in the affirmative.
     Hiro scratched his head.
     “We left them in Monaco,” he observed.
     “Oh Hiro-dear, when will you learn that love conquers all?” 
She asked him with eyes pointing towards Kuno. The swordsman 
was oblivious to her attentions. Instead he harrumphed.
     “Nabiki Tendo, thy impertinence has often found pardon within 
the bounds of my gracious nature. Do not make presumption that 
this shall continue to be so.”
     She stood up and twirled the hair on top of his head coyly with 
her fingers.
     “Oh Kuno-baby, thy capacity for clemency is boundless where 
I’m concerned. Don’t kid yourself!”
     He looked up at her, trying to maintain his stoic countenance. 
It wasn’t working very well. She winked very slyly for him, and 
he flushed ever so slightly. Hiro and the others didn’t even notice 
the subtle interplay between them.
     “Nabiki Ten-”
     Nabiki cut him off.
     “That’s all the abuse for now, Kuno-baby. If you’d like some 
more, you can find me in my room.” 
     She lifted a finger to her girls, and they took wing after her 
down the hall.
     Durango looked to Hiro, who sat there, mouth slightly ajar.
     “<Did I miss something here?>”
     “<You and me both.>”
     Kuno gathered up his sword and started after Nabiki.
     Hiro watched him go. “<Yeah, I definitely think we missed 
something.>”
     Kuno caught up to her as she reached the landing on the 
second floor.
     “Hold, Nabiki Tendo!” He called to her sternly.
     Nabiki didn’t even look back at him.
     “I don’t ‘hold’ for anyone, Kuno-baby. You of all people 
should know this.”
     “I implore thee,” Kuno added in a softer tone.
     Nabiki stopped. Her songbirds perched on the railing and waited. 
She turned her head slowly and looked at him.
     “Yes, Kuno-baby?”
     He stepped up to her. She was standing several steps higher 
than the landing, which put her level with his eyes. He drew a 
deep breath to speak. Nabiki tensed for monologue he was likely 
preparing.
     “Know that I hold you in the highest respect Nabiki,” he said 
to her in a calm measured voice. “Do I ask too much of thee that 
you might hold me in the same regard?”
     Her eyes widened. This wasn’t what she was expecting from 
him.
     “Oh Kuno-baby, you don’t take me seriously do you?” She 
asked quietly.
     His eyes lowered to the stairs for a moment.
     “In truth there are many times when I find your irreverence 
amusing, even becoming of you... There are also times when you 
wound me Nabiki.”
     Nabiki didn’t know what to say in reply. Kuno was so humble 
before her she didn’t have anything to cut down. It was as much 
a shock as his apology to her in Monaco.
     His eyes hardened then with steely glints as she watched him in 
silence.
     “There are few in this world that I would know as friends,” he 
continued. “Though I have never told you this ere today, know 
that I hold thee among those I consider dear... If you would 
continue to hold my esteem I would ask that you stay thy rapier 
wit from time to time. I do not ask that you do so always in my 
company, for that would bind thee against thy very nature, and 
thy irreverence is one of the very qualities I admire in thee.”
     He stood in stoic silence for her to respond.
     She leaned forward until her nose was just touching his. Her 
walnut colored eyes shone clear and bright before him. He stood 
fast, and she could almost feel him tense up.
     “You know Tate-chan, I’ll do that. Just for you.”
     His eyes twitched at the mention of her recent pet name for 
him. She caught it immediately.
     “Oh don’t tell me I can’t call you Tate-chan?” She asked 
dryly, leaning back and setting her hands on her hips.
     He regained his composure.
     “I would ask that you would to keep that name between us,” he 
said solemnly. “It is unbecoming in public.”
     Nabiki smiled.
     “If it means that you’re still my Tate-chan, then your wish is 
my command.”
     He flushed slightly as she called him ‘Tate-chan’ again. He put 
his all into regaining the noble and stoic countenance he preferred 
to affect. It almost worked. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.
     She had to laugh at this.
     “You really like it when I call you that, don’t you?”
     He cleared his throat before speaking. 
     “It is thoroughly unbecoming, Nabiki,” he protested calmly.
     “That doesn’t answer my question, dear. I asked if you liked 
it when I called you that.”
     He grit his teeth, trying not to remember the sight of her in 
that tiny nightgown. It wasn’t working, and the halter and short 
shorts she wore wasn’t helping matters. Nor the way she smiled 
at him wryly, lips slightly pursed in amusement.
     She pounced.
     “Oh Tate-chan, you are such a darling when you get worked 
up,” she grinned, hands on her hips again.
     There was this roaring sound within Kuno’s head, sounding 
uncannily like an erupting volcano. The badly worn clutch of his 
higher brain functions was happy to slip loose and disengage. His 
tunnel vision engaged instead, focused directly upon the unwary 
Nabiki Tendo.
     He glomped onto her with a speed that was inhuman, lifting 
her up into his arms and crushing her in his embrace. Tears 
streamed down his face as he held her close. Nabiki made a few 
gasping sounds as she was pressed against his chest.
     “Oh Nabiki!” He cried. “That name inflames me so! Endless 
is my passion! Oh forgive me my impetuousness!”
     Nabiki coughed a few times to get his attention.
     Kuno looked down at her, eyes still streaming tears.
     “I am not your precious Pig-Tailed Girl,” she informed him 
with all of the patience she could muster. “I bruise easily.”
     There was a faint grinding noise as the clutch within his head 
reengaged. He released her and set her gently upon the steps 
before him. The tears ceased as one would secure a faucet. A 
quiet moment passed between them.
     “Pig-Tailed Girl?” He asked suddenly. The tears began to flow 
again instantaneously. Nabiki wondered how he did it. 
     “Oh Pig-Tailed Girl!” He cried. “How I have betrayed thee! 
Just when my way seemed clear I have stumbled from the path 
of True Love! Forgive me!” 
     With one arm over his tearing eyes he fled down the stairs 
weeping deliriously.
     Nabiki couldn’t believe she had just witnessed this. She sat 
down upon the steps and watched him go. She settled her chin 
upon her folded hands as she set her elbows on her knees. Innael, 
Birathiel, and Gliredhel, who had kept silent throughout the 
exchange, began to twitter amongst themselves. If she didn’t 
know better, Nabiki would have thought they sounded a bit like 
gossiping housewives.
     She looked up at them
     “And what are you girls discussing behind my back?”
     The three ceased their twittering and peeped sheepishly a few 
times in reply.
     Nabiki set her chin back in her hands. This was the first time 
that the barrel of nitroglycerin better known as Kuno’s passion had 
blown up in her face. She supposed she had it coming the way she 
got him worked up... She had really blown it mentioning the Pig-
Tailed Girl.
     “I don’t know why I set myself up for this,” she said to herself.
     The three chirped once in agreement.
     “I said it once, and I’ll say it again: Tate-chan, you are _so_ 
hopeless!”



                         *       *       *



     Ryoga Hibiki was a man once more. He was also man with a 
hangover. An 8.5 on the Richter Scale hangover. Minhiriath offered 
him a vile smelling concoction in a small clay jar and told him it 
was a sure-fire cure for what ailed him. Ryoga was fairly certain 
the cure would be worse than the disease, as it were.
     He pinched his nose and tossed back his head and gulped it 
down in one shot. It took all of his will to swallow it. Once the 
foul stuff had slid down his throat, he started coughing and his 
face turned green.
     Minhiriath chuckled as he watched Ryoga cough and gag.
     “Tasty, yes?”
     Ryoga gave him a dirty look when he had regained his 
composure.
     “You’ll feel better shortly, I assure you,” Minhiriath told him.
     Ryoga crossed his eyes as the last bit of aftertaste struck.
     “I hope so,” he managed.
     Minhiriath left him there on the front porch of the cabin to 
fetch the remainder of the hot water from the kettle to make tea. 
He had changed Ryoga back into a man when the little piggy 
had stirred to wakefulness lost and confused within the folds 
of the blanket he had placed around him. Ryoga didn’t seem 
to remember much about last night, and seemed very ashamed 
to know that Minhiriath was aware of his curse.
     The Maia for his part was amused and nothing more. Once 
the initial surprise was past and he knew how to change Ryoga 
back, there was nothing else to be concerned about. He set the 
kettle down next to Ryoga along with glazed fired-clay tea cups 
decorated with some kind of native motif and a few seed cakes.
     “Drink the tea, have a cake; it will help settle your stomach.”
     Ryoga poured the tea kettle over an infusing basket in his 
cup. He sipped at it and nibbled at the cake.
     Minhiriath had a cake himself. As he ate he watched the sun 
begin it’s slow journey towards the distant peaks of the Andes 
mountains. 
     “I was expecting you, you know,” he told Ryoga.
     “Expecting me?”
     “Yes. I had a dream the other night. In that dream I met you.”
     Ryoga ate another seed cake.
     “That’s weird.” He didn’t have anything better to say. 
Minhiriath continued.
     “I have a trip to make, starting this morning. In the dream I 
was given the impression that you were supposed to accompany 
me.” 
     Ryoga looked at him over his cup of tea.
     “I’m supposed to go with you? How am I supposed to get home 
to Japan if I go with you? Or are you going to Japan?”
     Minhiriath laughed at this. 
     “Mercy no, Ryoga! I doubt I could walk quite that far in one 
go. I usually like to linger a bit in one place when I travel great 
distances. A long bit.”
     “So where are you going?”
     Minhiriath pointed to the distant Andes range. From the 
vantage of their hilltop they could see the sharply rising mountain 
range extend to either end of the horizon. Clouds blown in from 
the Pacific scraped across the crags and peaks and the dull grey 
blur of rainfall could be seen. 
     “To the mountains. There is a lake there where some people 
claim the god Wiraqocha appeared to them and taught them the 
secrets of irrigation and agriculture. He taught them how to live 
in reciprocity for all things. It is also the place that marks the very 
creation of space-time for these people.”
     Ryoga scratched his head in thought. Perhaps if he had a better 
idea where Peru was, he could get a sense for what the man was 
talking about. He knew he had covered at least briefly the other 
religions and cultures of the world in school, but his mind was 
always on other things, and he found he couldn’t remember 
anything of the sort that Minhiriath talked about.
     “So why am _I_ supposed to go?”
     Minhiriath gave him a brief shrug. “I have no idea. Perhaps 
that will become clear when we get there... Are you ready to do a 
little traveling with me?”
     Ryoga finished the last seed cake.
     “Well at least I know where I’m going now,” he said at last. 
“I’d rather go somewhere than just wander.”



                          Chapter Three



     At the Professor’s insistence they took a very large and early 
supper out on the lawn overlooking the meadow and sometime 
airfield that surrounded the estate. The cooks had put out quite a 
spread, and even chowhound Ranma found that he just couldn’t 
quite keep up. Akane watched him slow down with a bemused 
smile. 
     Hiro sat on the other side of them, already quite sated. He 
watched the two sit next to each other and suppressed a grin. 
There was the oddest glow about them, but he couldn’t put his 
finger on it. He chalked it up to that mind altering state best 
known to poets and songwriters as love.
     Nabiki sipped from a glass of wine and talked with the 
Professor and Doctor Casimir. The two old men smoked their 
pipes and traded stories with her. The songbirds, never far from 
their mistress, chirped idly in warm-up for their next performance 
from a chair back close by. Ferguson continued to hammer away 
at his lap-top, remembering to eat only when Katy Price prompted 
him to do so. 
     D-Day and Durango hadn’t stayed long at supper. They were 
across the meadow, preparing to overhaul the engines of Bettie’s 
Dare. The Catalina was surrounded by scaffolding and steel tube 
staging that the Professor’s men had set up earlier that morning.
     Tatewaki Kuno kept apart from the others. He continued to 
meditate on his sword, wondering if he would ever be able to 
conjure up the flames of his spirit upon the blade. Aerandir had 
made it seem so simple. Perhaps if his mind wasn’t torn upon 
several ventures of thought it would have been easier. 
     He looked over to Akane and Ranma. Akane looked so pleased 
to be with him that Kuno’s heart quailed at the sight. To think that 
she would choose that churl over himself was simply too much for 
him to accept. But accept he did, though his pride suffered for it. 
     **Oh Pig-Tailed Girl...** He thought sadly. **Would that 
she was here, she would be the very balm to heal my heart.**
     Then slowly, against his will and his better judgment, his eyes 
fell upon Nabiki Tendo. She was the very opposite of the Pig-Tailed 
Girl, and of Akane. She was no fighter, certainly no goddess of the 
hunt like Akane. Her mannerisms made her more subdued than the 
vibrant Pig-Tailed Girl, so full of life and reckless abandon. He had 
to admit that she was pretty to look at, but that was as much a 
reflection of the beauty of her sister, though Nabiki was the elder.
     So why did he care at all for Nabiki? She wasn’t anything like 
his two loves. She was inappropriately condescending, impertinent 
and even crass. She manipulated him, extorted him, and exploited 
him. Despite this he found that her continued happiness and well 
being were important to him. Somehow she was his friend, one 
of his only friends outside of the world of kendo.
     Perhaps it was because when she was nice to him, she really 
meant the things she said and did. This at least was something he 
rarely received from Akane or the Pig-Tailed Girl, who constantly 
denied him in challenge to the strength of his love for them. He 
would fight ever on to prove his love for them (or at least the Pig-
Tailed Girl now), but for some odd reason Nabiki never demanded 
the same of him.
     Was it because she felt love for him? Or was it because she did 
not? This was the bone of Tatewaki Kuno’s contention regarding 
her. She caught his glance and smiled briefly at him. He quickly 
returned his attentions to his sword. At least he understood steel. 
The other mysteries would come with time and reflection.
     As Kuno pondered all of this he failed to notice the last guest 
arrive for supper. It was Anazali, who was looking a little worn 
out, but very happy to see Ranma and Akane sitting together. 
The Professor and Casimir rose from their seats for her, and 
Ferguson poured her a glass of wine that she accepted gratefully.
     “I see our venture was of a successful conclusion reached?” 
She asked them, eyes directed to where Ranma and Akane sat.
     “Thanks to you and Aerandir,” Akane replied with a smile.
     “Hey what am I, instant ramen?” Hiro protested.
     Akane slugged him in the arm. “And you too, Hiro.”
     Hiro rubbed at his arm. He smiled weakly. “Thanks, I think.”
     “<Will you be having a bit of supper with us?>” The Professor 
asked her. “<You are most welcome.>”
     Anazali smiled. “I can hardly refuse your hospitality, Professor!”
     Hiro jumped to his feet to prepare a plate for her, insisting that 
she be seated. Anazali laughed at this, but did as he wished. She 
answered Hiro’s questions regarding preferences as she watched 
Ranma and Akane.
     It was a little unnerving for Ranma.
     “What is it?” He asked her.
     “Tell me what you saw in Paris. When the event came.”
     Ranma rubbed at his head.
     “I think we saw that island we saw before when we were in 
Scotland,” he began. “Only we were in this city and there was 
that big pyramid.”
     “Don’t forget the lions,” Akane added.
     “Oh yeah, and those stone lions from the fountains of the 
Alhambra were there. They even spoke to me this time instead of 
just talking to Akane.”
     “What did they say?” Anazali asked him.
     “They told us to watch and learn,” Ranma replied.
     “And then the pyramid blew up,” Akane threw in.
     Ranma looked at her for a minute. “Who’s telling this story, 
anyway?”
     “Well maybe if you got it right and didn’t keep leavings things 
out, I wouldn’t have to interrupt.”
     “I was getting to those parts!” 
     Akane stuck her tongue out at him.
     He rolled his eyes and ignored her. “So like I was saying, the 
pyramid blew up.” He shot a look to Akane, who made a face at 
him. “But instead of everyone getting blown up with it, they got 
sucked into the middle of the explosion. Then the lions were 
crying and told us that they were trapped in the Heart of the 
World.”
     He looked at Akane again.
     “What?” She asked “It’s your story, remember.”
     “But you’re dying to jump in, so just go right ahead.”
     Akane pushed Ranma aside and sat before Anazali.
     “They told us not to free them,” she continued where Ranma 
had left off. Ranma now busied himself with a bunch of grapes. 
“They said to do so would cause another disaster, and that they 
would rather stay imprisoned than let it happen again. They told 
us to stop it.”
     Anazali nodded her head in agreement.
     “Yes we must,” she said to them. The rest of the group was 
quietly listening in on the conversation.
     “The event in Paris has convinced the last of the doubters 
about your purpose in these matters. That is why I am here today. 
I am to take you to meet with my people. Any remaining questions 
you have will be answered there.”
     “Where’s that?” Ranma asked, his attention now firmly on 
Anazali.
     “Peru,” she replied. “The Island of the Sun.”
     “<Lake Titicaca if I’m not mistaken,>” McFogg said from 
behind her.
     “Correct, Professor. It was and still is a place of power in 
this world. My people gather there from time to time. They are 
assembling there now to take final counsel before the arrival of 
the Heart of the World.”
     “<You’re here just for Ranma and Akane or can the rest of 
us come too?>” Ferguson asked. “<I’m asking because my 
preliminary sims are pointing to a location in South America 
very shortly for the next event. And if that’s true, then it means 
the model is working again!>”
     Anazali nodded. “One will happen there during the counsel. 
It is our last chance to speak to our ancestors before the Heart 
of the World.”
     “<Say again, love?>” Ferguson asked. He had been out of 
the metaphysical loop, so to speak, regarding recent events in 
favor of his scientific analysis. With a little help from Casimir 
and some inspiration of his own, the model was most definitely 
on track again. He could almost taste his Ph.D.
     “Ranma and Akane are correct when they say that the souls 
of my ancestors are trapped in the Heart of the World. They can 
speak to us directly only through these events. At other times they 
visit us in dreams, but those are rarely clear to us.”
     She looked to the Professor. “Your research group is welcome 
provided they abide by certain customs. They will be explained to 
you upon your arrival. I would ask that you limit your staff to a 
necessary few however.”
     McFogg puffed at his pipe. “<Of course, madam. Ferguson, 
get a list of what you need. I’m sure we don’t have very much 
time to prepare.>”
     “<On it Professor,>” Ferguson answered. He and Katy got 
up and headed back inside the mansion.
     Hiro handed Anazali her plate. “I shall accompany you to the 
airport in La Paz, Bolivia, in four days,” she told Ranma and 
Akane. “From there arrangements will be made to take us to the 
Island of the Sun. I cannot force you to do this, but I implore you. 
You have seen what happened the last time the Heart of the World 
was tampered with.”
     “If we’re supposed to stop this, and that’s what I’m guessing 
Akane and me are for, how’s that gonna help me get my Jusenkyo 
cursed lifted?” Ranma asked. Akane started at the mention of the 
curse and looked over to Kuno, who was still meditating on his 
sword, oblivious.
     Anazali began to eat. “It will be explained to you when the 
Conclave of my people begins. I am sorry Ranma, but I am very 
much the servant of the others. I do not know the answer to that 
question. I only know that it is possible.”
     “So you’ll be staying awhile?” Hiro asked.
     “Yes. Palandir was wounded during the fight, but I doubt 
he will be hurt for very long. He has already demonstrated his 
willingness to kill Ranma and Akane if necessary. I doubt I could 
defeat him in a battle, but I will be able to delay him enough for 
them to escape.”
     Ranma grit his teeth at that. Running was the last thing he 
wanted to do when their lives were in danger. Running was their 
only option last night, when he was too tired and hurt to be 
effective, but give him a day or two to get back together and he 
would take on all comers.
     Akane sensed what he was thinking. Or at least was long 
accustomed to the way his mind worked. She looked to him 
with concern. He returned the look. It was concern for her that 
would drive him on to fight whatever battles were necessary to 
keep her safe.



                          *       *       *



     Ryoga Hibiki was glad to get out of the jungle. They hiked 
up a meandering trail along a small river that charged down from 
the mountains that were capped with snow. The rarefied air felt 
clean and cool in his lungs, and he knew this was good training 
to be exerting himself at high altitude.
     “How high are we, anyway?” He asked.
     “Almost to the 4000 meter level,” Minhiriath replied. “Soon 
we get to the steep part of this climb.”
     Ryoga looked up to the towering wall that was the Andes range. 
They went from the small open terraces of the montaña to the sheer 
cliffs of the mountains. They would make their way up the narrow 
gorges of streams and along winding footpaths. Here they saw 
farmers tending to crops of maize and fruits and (occasionally) 
the coca plant. Coca was a fundamental part of the farmers’ diets, 
Minhiriath explained. It allowed them the stamina to survive the 
rigors of high altitude farming and provided energy against the cold. 
     It was very cold up here at the roof of the world. Ryoga 
had borne the burden of the heavy clothes his companion had 
provided with silent discontent through the jungle. Now he was 
glad for the heavy coat, made from the wool of the llama. 
     They saw whole herds of llamas and their alpaca cousins as 
they walked. They had been traveling for four days now, and the 
food they had brought was almost gone. Ryoga found himself 
eating more than he expected just to keep active and warm. 
Minhiriath wasn’t concerned. He planned to buy a llama and 
butcher it for the meat that would get them over the mountains 
and to the lake. 
     At one such farm house nestled within a tiny clear patch of 
ground, Minhiriath produced a small bag of odds and ends and 
began negotiating with the woman of the house. They bantered 
in a language Ryoga was unfamiliar with. It wasn’t like what he 
had heard in the lowlands, although he did catch the occasional 
word of what he now understood to be Spanish.
     The woman settled on a set of stainless steel sewing needles, 
several spools of thread, a large box of stick matches, and a pouch 
of herbs from the jungle far below. Minhiriath thanked her, and 
she invited them in for strong tea and a maize cake sweetened 
with honey.
     “Never fear Ryoga, when this fine lady’s husband and sons 
come home, we shall have our llama to eat.”
     Ryoga scratched his head. 
     “You bought a llama for some sewing needles and a box of 
matches?”
     “Of course not!” Minhiriath replied. “I bought some of the 
llama’s meat. They plan to butcher one anyway to celebrate the 
rising of Fox in the sky and to the flood that blackened his tail. 
It heralded the end of the Third World for these people.”
     Ryoga understood the part about Fox rising into the sky, as 
it hadn’t taken but the first clear night sky for Minhiriath to reveal 
his passion as an astronomer to him. Fox was one of the black 
splotches against the glorious band of light that was the Milky 
Way. There were other animals represented, but Ryoga could 
only remember Fox and Llama.
     “In any event I do have some money, but it wouldn’t do this 
family very much good up here. It would get stolen by bandits 
most likely. Things like sewing needles and matches and medicinal 
herbs from the jungle are more useful than scraps of paper or bits 
of silver and gold. Whatever they earn from their llamas’ wool 
they’ll spend on such things while they are still in town. Which 
in this case would be Ayaviri and two days walk from here.”
     Ryoga understood. He had spent enough time wandering 
amongst the salt of the earth to know that a day’s labor for a 
meal and a bed was worth more than what few coins he kept in 
his pocket. He ate his maize cake and watched the woman work 
with her two little girls grinding more of the corn into meal.
     He sighed wistfully at this. **If only I could just settle down 
and have a family of my own! That would make me forget all 
that I have suffered!**
     Of course that would mean he would have to have someone 
to start that family with. At the moment there was no one. He 
was 6000 kilometers across a vast ocean from Japan. Akari was 
just a face that sometimes came to him in dreams. Akane 
frequented them too, but he knew in his heart he would never 
have her. Both of them may have well been on the moon for 
all intents.
     “You’re getting weepy-eyed Ryoga. Remember what 
happened the last time you did that,” Minhiriath advised.
     Ryoga grunted a curse. 
     “Would you like to talk about it?”
     Ryoga shook his head.
     “Very well Ryoga, I leave you to your thoughts.”
     Much later the man of the house and his three sons came home. 
The woman introduced Minhiriath and Ryoga, and explained to 
them the bargain she had struck. The men looked them over. A 
golden-skinned man and some other foreigner, probably Asian, 
although they had never met one before. They knew of the kin 
of the golden-skinned man, and so were quick to agree.
     Places were set at the table and a bottle of home-brewed hooch 
was offered to them. Ryoga was about to decline when Minhiriath 
informed him that it was impolite to refuse such hospitality. Ryoga 
settled for one sip of the stuff, which went down like battery acid. 
Minhiriath took a healthy pull from the bottle and proclaimed in a 
loud voice to them that they were in the wrong line of work, and 
should take up distilling full time.
     They went outside then with the waning sun and fetched one 
of the llamas. They took it around behind the house where a large 
tanned skin was laid out on the cold ground. Minhiriath was 
offered the knife, as befitted his status.
     Ryoga watched as the golden-skinned man calmly approached 
the animal. The llama chewed at some grasses in it’s mouth and 
had no sense of what was to take place. Minhiriath thanked the 
animal (Ryoga heard this to wondering ears), and brought the 
knife cleanly across the llama’s throat. It didn’t flinch or start, 
but simply stood there for a moment as the life pulsed out in 
steaming floods. Minhiriath helped it settle to the ground, where 
the blood pooled upon the skin beneath it. When the llama was 
dead, the father and sons and Minhiriath offered up a prayer of 
thanks, and set to butchering it right there. 
     The finest cuts of the meat were set aside from the others. 
>From these Minhiriath was given his pick. He took enough for 
a good meal that night and enough that could be smoked and 
last for the next two days to reach the lake. The rest was taken 
to the smoke house set into the side of the mountain. The fires 
had long since burned down to rich hot coals that morning in 
preparation for the butchering. Ryoga found the heat delicious 
in the waning sun.
     Although the fare was simple, they ate well, and Ryoga was 
given a place with Minhiriath by the fire. Minhiriath sang the 
younger children songs which Ryoga found he could understand 
as well as the little girls. He guessed that it was no difficult task 
for a man who could talk to you in your head.
     Ryoga fell asleep sometime later. Akari visited him in his 
dreams, and Minhiriath saw that two small tears trickled down 
the man’s face as he slept. He clucked sorrowfully for the man 
and settled down next to him by the fire.


     The next day found them reaching the top of that particular 
part of the range they crossed. To Ryoga’s far left he could see 
the snow covered peak of Ancohuma, towering at 6400 meters 
above sea level. Minhiriath estimated they were about 5200 
meters high themselves. It was deathly cold as they walked, 
and in many spots there was snow and patches of ice. It was 
winter in the southern hemisphere, and only their proximity to 
the equator kept them from facing an even more dire cold.
     From there the trip was mostly downhill, and they made good 
time. The air thickened, but only slightly, and Ryoga found he 
was growing used to it. As they traveled Minhiriath told him that 
the lake sat about the 4000 meter level, and was the world’s 
highest navigable lake. 
     On the morning of the second day they came out onto the 
dun colored expanse of altiplano surrounding the lake. Titicaca 
glittered a deep lapis-lazuli against the sunny sky. Ryoga could 
see the tiny wakes of barges and tugs in the distance. Irrigated 
farms along the lake were patches of green against the alkali 
plains of the surrounding altiplano. Minhiriath mentioned that 
modern efforts to reclaim the land for farming had failed, and in 
the end the time honored techniques Wiraqocha had taught their 
ancestors were what was bringing life back to the shores of 
Titicaca.
     “We shall take a ferry across the lake to the village of 
Altihelpa,” he said pointing over the very horizon. The lake 
spanned a good 120 miles at it’s longest point. “From there 
we walk to the ruins of Tiahuanaco, our final destination. We 
should reach it by nightfall.”
     They started down the last spurs of the mountains and onto 
the altiplano at a brisk pace. By ten o’clock they were aboard a 
rusty ferry boat that made runs from the Bolivian side of the lake 
to Altihelpa and Puno. It would reverse itself the next day. They 
drew a few stares from the other passengers, but otherwise had 
an uneventful trip. The lake was cold and clear and a very deep 
blue, meaning that the water was also very very deep.
     They took their lunch in a cantina in Altihelpa and then started 
off on the final leg of their trip. Ryoga was glad it was almost over. 
At least then he could find out what the big deal was with 
Minhiriath’s dream. His companion was slow to talk about it 
after the first mention.
     As expected, they were out of daylight before they reached the 
ruins of Tiahuanaco. They were greeted by two men in grey cloaks 
who carried seven foot poles that glowed with a pale blue light. 
They spoke to Minhiriath in a strange and beautiful tongue, and 
he answered them in kind. They made no concern over Ryoga 
as they led the two into the ruins. 
     They passed through a great stone archway which Minhiriath 
told him was the Gateway to the Sun, and which faced the sunrise 
on the June solstice. It featured a carving of Wiraqocha that was 
fairly well preserved and showed him to be a stylized androgynene. 
According to Minhiriath, the Andean peoples long believed they 
sprang from such androgynous peoples as created by Wiraqocha 
in the moment of the universe’s genesis.
     Ryoga and Minhiriath were led to a large gathering of brightly 
colored tents and pavilions that glowed with many different lights. 
None of these lights seemed to be something burning, for they 
were steady in the breeze and gave off no heat. He assumed they 
were some sort of magic, and that the whole idea seemed to make 
sense considering his present company.
     Ryoga was bade to make himself comfortable in one of the 
pavilions while Minhiriath was taken elsewhere. Several rather 
pretty young ladies with a native look to them attended to him, 
taking his wet and dirty coat and providing food and drink for 
him. He blushed hotly at all of their attentions, which only 
encouraged them further. Before they could get him to do 
anything more, shall we say _fun,_ he remembered how tired he 
was and promptly fell asleep. The ladies sighed in disappointment 
and found a blanket to keep him warm against the evening chill.



                          Chapter Four



     Ranma, Akane and the others found several large Mercedes 
sedans waiting for them at the airport in La Paz. Anazali spoke 
with the leader of the detachment sent to fetch them, a tall and 
older gentleman with oddly gold-colored eyes but nothing else 
that might distinguish him as one of the Maia. They got into the 
cars while Ferguson and Katy Price joined them in a truck with 
their sensory and research gear.
     It was an all day drive across some very bad roads once they 
left the Transamerican Highway. They were all too happy to get 
out of the cars when they arrived around dusk in a large clearing 
of grass and trees that grew in defiance of the arid altiplano that 
surrounded much of the lake. The cars drove off, and a group 
of men with horses and llamas approached. 
     “What’s going on, Anazali? I thought we were going to some 
island?” Ranma asked.
     “Tomorrow we shall. That is when the Conclave formally 
begins. For now, we shall live in the camp within Tiahuanaco.”
     The Professor’s eyes lit up. “<Ah, splendid! I had hoped that 
was where we were going. I’ve always wanted to visit the ruins 
of Tiahuanaco! My studies never centered on the Andean peoples 
enough to justify it before.>” He puffed on his pipe happily.
     “<Ruins?>” Nabiki asked. That didn’t sound like very 
comfortable surroundings. She had the sinking feeling room 
service wasn’t going to be available.
     “Fear not, Nabiki!” Anazali said to her with a laugh. “I’m sure 
you’ll find the hospitality of my family most satisfying.”
     The men on the horses stopped at the edge of the clearing 
and raised their hands to them. Anazali raised hers in reply. They 
greeted her in the familiar yet alien tongue. With the glint of the 
dying sunlight in the clear thin air, they could see the pearlescent 
glimmer of their skin.
     The tallest of the men dismounted and took Anazali up into a 
hug that lifted her off her feet. She cried out happily and kissed 
him. He set her down, and she turned back to the party.
     “This is my brother, Urthel. He will be our guide to the camp, 
and our host during our stay.”
     Urthel bowed for them. Then his eyes fell upon Ranma and 
Akane. 
     “These are the two, fair sister?” He asked her for all to 
understand.
     “They are,” Anazali replied.
     “Then they shall be well looked after in my camp.” He looked 
the rest of them over; Hiro, Nabiki with her birds, Kuno at her 
side, Ferguson, Katy, Clay, Professor McFogg, and Doctor 
Casimir. “You shall all be well looked after. If there is anything 
you require, do not hesitate to ask.”
     They were to ride the horses to the ruins while the llamas 
ported their baggage and the equipment. Ranma got up into the 
saddle like a natural, although he had never ridden a horse in his 
life. He’d been carried on one, but this was a little different. He 
offered a hand to Akane, who looked up at him dubiously.
     “Don’t get too carried away with yourself, Wild Horse,” she 
said to him mockingly.
     “I ain’t gonna get us killed,” he retorted. “Come on.”
     She reluctantly took his hand and he pulled her up onto the 
horse. She set her arms around his waist as the others mounted 
and made ready to leave.
     “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said quietly.
     “Trust me.”
     “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she retorted. “I think I trust you 
too much now.”
     “Do you _want_ me to get us thrown?”
     “Of course not!”
     “Then be quiet and hang on.”
     He nudged the horse gently in the ribs. The animal neighed 
and lurched into a mild gallop to catch up to the others. Akane 
shrieked in surprise, which was right in Ranma’s ear as she 
leaned against him. Her arms nearly squeezed the stuffing out 
of him as she held on for dear life.
     “You’re crushing me Akane,” he gasped.
     She let up, but only a little.
     “Serves you right you jerk!” She cried merrily in response. 
The surprise over, she got into the rhythm of the horse’s gallop 
and rode easily though the quickening wind with Ranma in her 
arms.
     As the last of the sun went over the mountains, Urthel and 
his companions conjured soft blue-white lights on their staves to 
illuminate the way. They rode for eight miles before reaching the 
light of the ruins of Tiahuanaco. 
     They cantered through the Gate of the Sun. Three men armed 
with long spears that flashed with a spectral white flame guarded 
the gate. Urthel identified himself and their party was allowed to 
pass. The security was not lost on Ranma.
     “What’s the big deal?” He asked Akane.
     “I have no idea,” she replied. “Maybe they’re afraid that guy 
Palandir will try to come here.”
     Ranma remembered well the man in the cloak who had nearly 
blasted them into bits on a Parisian street. If not for Fyodor’s goon 
squad shooting him, Palandir would have succeeded. Anazali 
insisted that such a wound could be healed by the likes of Palandir 
in a short period of time, and that he would be out looking for 
them again soon. 
     “I wish Aerandir were here,” Nabiki said as Kuno brought their 
horse alongside them to catch the tail end of Akane’s reply. The 
songbirds chirped in the affirmative. “At least he held that guy off 
for awhile.”
     Hiro rode solo on his horse; an H&K G-3 rifle slung over his 
back. “Well we already know according to Anazali that these guys 
aren’t bullet proof. I think we were all just too scared of him at 
first to bother shooting him.”
     No one had an answer for this. It was an event that everyone 
hoped wouldn’t come again. Hiro spurred his horse on ahead of 
them. He was planning on seeing Palandir again. And hopefully 
Fyodor, too. He had a little something for both of them.
     They stopped the horses and dismounted at the perimeter of 
the camp. The animals were led to a ruined building with no roof 
and fed. Ferguson, Clay, Katy, and Hiro looked after the 
equipment and the baggage as the others were led to a largest 
pavilion in the camp.
     Ranma and Akane had to wonder at all the Maia present. 
There had to be at least a hundred of them, all with faintly 
glimmering skin and odd colored eyes and speaking in that 
alien tongue. Many more had some trace or other of Maia 
heritage, while others appeared to be servants or retainers 
or at least children without any obvious signs of their ancestry. 
They nodded respectfully for Ranma and Akane as they passed, 
indicating that they knew who they were. 
     Urthel and Anazali presented Ranma, Akane, Nabiki, Kuno, 
the Professor and Doctor Casimir before a tall man with a flaming 
red beard and long locks of red brown hair streaked with silver. 
He had piercing golden eyes that seemed to bore right through 
them. If not for his kindly smile he would have been quite 
intimidating. He radiated antiquity.
     The man rose from his carved wooden chair made of 
amaranth and raised his hand in greeting.
     “Welcome to my house, such as it is,” he said with a kindly 
chuckle. “I am known by many names, but you may call me 
Nimatar.”
     Anazali presented each guest individually before him, she 
saved Ranma and Akane for last. Nimatar greeted each one 
warmly and placed his hand upon their brow. His touch was 
warm and made them tingle.
     “This is Ranma Saotome, and his fiancée Akane Tendo,” 
Anazali declared. “They are the ones our ancestors, your kin, 
have spoken to. They are the Wayfinders.”
     Nimatar looked at each of them closely, piercing eyes once 
again boring through them. He nodded solemnly then and 
motioned for them to step forward that he could touch his 
hands to their brows. Ranma hesitated, but a nudge from 
Akane got him moving.
     He placed a gentle hand upon the both of them. 
     “I am honored to meet with any who have spoken to my 
people, however indirectly. It is a sign of great worthiness and 
strength within you that you be so distinguished.”
     He stepped back and sat down again. Chairs were brought for 
all of them, and food and drink offered them. Nimatar talked with 
them as they ate.
     “Tomorrow at the Conclave we shall receive our last visit 
from our kin before the Heart of the World,” he told them. 
“There is much we shall discuss amongst ourselves, but as you 
are also a part of this, we shall hear your say gladly.”
     “I just have one question,” Ranma asked. “I know that 
somehow Akane and I are supposed to stop one of your own 
people from grabbing this Heart of the World. Any chance you 
could explain to me how?”
     Nimatar nodded at Ranma’s concern.
     “In order to capture the Heart of the World, a prism is 
required. You have likely seen it in your visions.”
     “The pyramid,” Akane said.
     “Yes, it is shaped like a pyramid. The prism acts as a focal 
point for both the energies of the Heart of the World and for the 
will imposed upon it. The size of the pyramid isn’t as important 
so much as it is the purity of it’s internal structure. It must be of 
flawless crystal structure. Such material cannot be found in nature, 
it must be constructed by the hand and mind of man.”
     Nimatar let them think about it for a minute.
     Ranma’s eyes lit up. “Hey yeah, I remember this voice in 
my head telling me it was important to flaw the thing somehow. 
Shouldn’t be a problem, I mean you just gotta come up and 
smash the thing to bits.”
     Kuno and Hiro nodded in agreement.
     “That might be more difficult than it seems young Ranma,” 
Nimatar replied. “We are informed by Sil Amarn through Anazali 
that the prism to be used survived a previous attempt 88 years ago.”
     He sipped at a cup of wine. “You see my friend Sarophan in 
his misguided wisdom has decided that the Heart of the World’s 
energies are the only thing that will save the Earth from the 
ecological disasters of overpopulation and pollution. To this end 
he spent centuries shaping his prism until it was ready to be used. 
In the year 1908, in a Siberian forest, the Heart of the World rose 
from the depths as it had for cycles since the creation of the planet 
billions of years ago. 
     “We were resolved to stop him, and in the end one of our own 
entered the vortex of energy and disrupted it. The backlash flattened 
several thousand acres of forest and was heard for thousands of 
leagues. Jubal was killed in the blast, and we had thought at first 
that Sarophan and his followers had joined him. When we learned 
that he had survived we at least hoped the prism had been 
destroyed. 
     “Our hopes have proven to be in vain. The prism survived 
according to Sil Amarn, who has seen it only days ago. Sarophan 
can try again. Even if we stop him a second time, if the prism 
isn’t destroyed he can just try again in 88 years. While you will 
likely have passed on from this world into the next by then, your 
children and grandchildren and so on will have that specter 
hanging over their heads. The prism must be destroyed this time.”
     He looked directly at Ranma and Akane.
     “You are the ones who will destroy it,” he told them. “My kin 
within the Heart of the World have chosen you. I cannot guess 
why they chose you over others in this world with similar strength 
of heart and will, but that is not for me to judge. Because they 
have chosen you, they have also been shaping you as it were 
through the energies of what you call ‘events’. You will be able 
to walk unharmed into the energy of the Heart of the World 
where Jubal could not at the price of his life.
     “I am not a warrior,” he said to them intently. “I have never 
fought with fists or feet, nor have I raised up sword and spear 
against my enemies in all of my twelve thousand years on this 
Earth. I do not have such experience as to tell you what you must 
do when you reach the prism. You are both fighters, and I trust 
to your instincts that you will know what to do when the time 
comes. Perhaps tomorrow when my kin speak to us they will 
tell you.”
     Ranma sank back in his chair. He wanted some answers and 
he was tired of not getting any. If anything, Nimatar had only 
raised more questions within him. Possibly even a doubt or two. 
     “We should speak no more of this for now,” Nimatar declared. 
“There will be time and cause enough for it tomorrow. Let us 
instead discuss all that has transpired to bring all of you here to 
this place.”
     They talked with Nimatar and with his aides for some time. 
After several hours he could see that his guests were weary and 
dispatched servants to take them to private lodgings. Ranma and 
Akane gratefully accepted the spacious and tall canvas tent dyed 
a bright blue and glowing with soft magical light from within. 
There was a comfortable down sleeping mat within, and lots of 
soft blankets to ward off the cold. Several chairs and a low table 
were in the front of the tent, with the sleeping area segregated by 
two heavy flaps that could be tied off to the walls of the tent 
when not in use.
     Nabiki and Katy Price found that they were tent mates and 
to Hiro’s chagrin he found that he had Tatewaki Kuno. Ferguson 
was paired with Clay, and McFogg and Casimir could be heard 
threatening the other about snoring.
     Ranma pulled the flaps down over the tent and secured them. 
Akane began to undress. He watched her and she winked at him 
when she caught him stealing a look.
     They had been making love every night since that first day, 
and the thought on both of their minds was whether or not they 
could be discreet enough tonight within the tent and having the 
others so close by. Ranma certainly hoped so. It was Akane that 
tended to get carried away. 
     It must have been woman’s intuition, or maybe Akane had 
developed telepathy, because she suddenly gave him a sour look 
when he thought it. Perhaps it was the look on his face when he 
thought back to those few passionate joinings they had shared. 
He waffled his hands in protest for her look. Instead of hitting 
him or giving him another sour look, Akane settled onto the 
sleeping mat and patted the spot next to her.
     Ranma shrugged and began to undress. 
     **Oh well, can’t stop a guy from trying.**
     He slipped under the blankets next to her.
     “It’s going to be a cold night,” Akane whispered to him. “Good 
thing I’ve got you to keep me warm!”
     “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” he grinned. He began to move 
close to her.
     They kissed slowly, tenderly, more full of love than any real 
passion. She put her arms around him and drew him close to her. 
Hiro and Kuno began arguing about who got which mat.
     That killed the mood right there.
     “Maybe we should wait until everyone’s asleep,” Akane 
suggested in a slightly frustrated voice.
     Ranma agreed, although he had the funny feeling these people 
didn’t sleep very much. Nabiki had remarked that she had never 
seen Aerandir asleep, and in the four days Anazali had spent with 
them in the Professor’s mansion, he had never known her to sleep 
either. She’d caught the two of them raiding the kitchen at three in 
the morning after a few rounds of Anything-Goes-Style wrestling 
between the sheets. She had given them a sly grin and returned to 
whatever it was she was doing. Whatever it was, it wasn’t sleeping.
     As if to prove his point a song broke out from a row of pavilions 
across from them. Music began to play; pipes, flutes, harps, and 
other instruments whose identities he could only guess at picked 
up the tune as more and more voices joined in. Laughter followed 
each verse; the song was obviously supposed to be funny, or 
maybe they were just enjoying themselves. In spite of himself 
he found that he wished he could understand what they were 
saying. Their trick of speaking their own tongue and being 
understood by all only applied if they were paying attention 
to you.
     “Akane, I don’t think they’re going to go to sleep,” he 
observed. His fingers traced little figure-eights on her back and 
down her spine.
     Akane kissed him on the tip of his nose. “Okay. Maybe we 
should take a little walk.” Then in a husky voice that thrilled him 
to no end, “perhaps we could find a place a little more private.”
     He was all for that idea, cold night at 4000 meters or not. He 
gathered up the blankets under his arm after they dressed enough 
to go walking around at night. He threw a red sable-lined cloak the 
Professor had given to him over his shoulders and then draped it 
over Akane as she snuggled close to his side.
     They stepped out of the tent. More of those soft magical lights 
glowed on poles along the little paths laid out between the tents 
and canopies and pavilions. Several Maiar passed them with silver 
cups of wine in hand and bright swords at their sides, and greeted 
them merrily. They offered helpful suggestions when they noticed 
the blankets Ranma carried under the cloak. Both of them blushed 
and offered thanks.
     They passed one particularly rowdy tent and had to endure a 
toast of sweet red wine and a song when they were discovered 
passing by. Ranma mumbled something about just hanging a sign 
around their necks declaring that they were trying to find a place 
to be alone and wouldn’t you just please let us do that. Akane 
laughed at this because embarrassing or not, it was kind of neat 
to be the center of such attention from such a magnificent people 
as the Maiar.
     The delay was just enough to keep Ryoga Hibiki from running 
into them on the path. He was lost (no surprise there) and a little 
drunk. Not that he intended to be in either state. Getting lost was 
something out of his control, but the people singing and dancing 
around him were just too merry to refuse when they pushed a 
cup of wine in front of him. Every time he stopped to ask 
someone for directions to Minhiriath’s tent, he got a little 
drunker, and consequently more lost.
     When they at last escaped their mirthful serenaders, Ryoga 
had stumbled on around a tent. Taking care not to get caught 
again, (and failing a few times with the standard punishment of 
wine and song following), they at last escaped the camp and 
wandered into the cold and dark ruins of Tiahuanaco. They 
passed two men with long spears who were not obvious Maiar 
and were in fact sentries. The sentries bid them goodnight and 
directed them to a suitable place with laughs and lots of well 
wishing. 
     **The cheer of this place was just too infectious when sober 
guards on a cold and windy night were laughing and carrying on,** 
Ranma thought as Akane snuggled closer than before beneath the 
cloak. **Then again didn’t one of them say this was the first time 
so many of them had all come together in two hundred years? I 
guess that would be something to celebrate.**
     They picked their way along the rubble strewn street that 
had long since become overgrown with grass and weeds. The 
half moon was out, giving them light to walk by, but even then 
the stars were huge and bright above them. The air was so thin 
and they were so high above the level of the sea that the Milky 
Way was glowing with enough light that they could likely see 
without the moon.
     They found the place the sentries had mentioned, a low 
structure that was well insulated against the wind, and had a 
marvelous carpet of grass and a gorgeous view of the stars with 
the hill that made up one wall blocking out the moon that was 
low in the sky. Ranma set the blankets down and spread them 
out for them. Akane settled beneath them and stared up at the 
stars. Ranma joined her a moment later, after making sure the 
sentries weren’t close by spying on them.
     “Are you worried, Ranma?” Akane asked him after a little 
while of watching the stars together.
     Ranma thought about how he should respond.
     “You can tell me when you’re worried you know,” Akane 
added.
     “It ain’t that,” he said quietly. “And yeah I am a little worried. 
Maybe if I knew a bit more about what we were supposed to do, 
I wouldn’t be.”
     “We’re going to do it, aren’t we?” She asked. “At least try 
anyway.”
     “We gotta. If we don’t, well you heard what Nimatar said. 
It might not mean a hill of beans to us and then again it might. 
If this guy Sarophan does what he’s trying to do they say he 
might hold on for a few centuries before losing it. It might only 
be a few hours, too. No one knows for sure. It’s not the kind 
of chance I’m willing to take with my life.”
     He turned to face her.
     “And it damn sure ain’t the kind of chance I’d take with yours.” 
He squeezed her hand beneath the blanket. “But if we gotta take 
our chances, I want to do it fighting; not sitting at home worrying 
about the end of the world and if we’ll get any kind of future 
between you and me.”
     “We’ll have to fight together,” Akane declared. “I just know it.” 
She looked at him with concern on her face. “Does that bother you?”
     “A month ago it would have,” he said then. “I wouldn’t have 
wanted you anywhere near the kind of fight I know is coming... 
Now... I hate to say it, but we do work pretty well together. When 
we want to anyway.”
     He squeezed her hand again. “Am I still gonna worry about you 
in the middle of the fight? Yeah, a little... I think we should spend 
what little time we have left practicing together. I mean really 
training, not just jogging and working out. Training to fight as one; 
that way I don’t have to wonder what you’re doing when I can’t 
see you. I’ll just know it. I won’t worry so much about you then, 
and I’ll be able to keep all of my focus on the battle.”
     Akane leaned over and kissed him.
     “Tonight I want to keep all of my focus on _you,_” she 
whispered. She kissed him again before he could say anything. 


     The sounds of music and singing could be heard in the distant 
camp. The sentries made their rounds, giving the ruined building a 
wide berth and offering salutes with their spears. Ranma and Akane 
were too focused on each other to notice any of it.



                          Chapter Five



     The Island of the Sun, once known by the name that the lake 
now held, was the site of an Inca temple, now in ruins. The shrine 
to Wiraqocha was an exquisite fake; the astute Incas’ attempt to 
write themselves into the Andean creation myth in an era when the 
city of Tiahuanaco had been in ruins for 400 years. Despite the 
bogus temple, there was a sound reason for the Maiar choosing 
the Island of the Sun for their Conclave.
     This was for the simple fact that a Maia who would be known 
as Wiraqocha to the Andean peoples had chosen that site as his 
home. He had invested much of his energy into shaping that place, 
and if such work was not visible to the eyes and ears of most men, 
it was to the Maiar. The Island of the Sun sang to them of his 
ancient wisdom and showed them his history of shaping the 
Andean people, though he had long since left this world.
     There were close to a hundred full Maia present, roughly 
two-thirds of those left in the world. There were another two 
hundred who had Maia blood within them and who had been 
able to tame the energies that traversed the planet enough to 
extend the span of their lives. The only people on the island 
who were not of Maia heritage were Ranma and Company, at 
Nimatar’s express wishes.
     They gathered under banners and standards of the various 
surviving families. A few reached all the way back to the days 
before the disaster, Nimatar’s being chief among them. The 
ancient Maia was the only other of his kind save for Sarophan 
who had set foot upon Maianar in the days before it was drowned 
by the sea. The rest came later, the last of a people that were 
taking millennia to die.
     The Conclave was being held in a natural bowl of low hills on 
the island near the ruined shrine. Ranma and Akane and the others 
were shown to a place of honor close to the open center of the 
bowl. Their place was close to Nimatar’s banner, although 
technically they were the guests of Urthel. 
     The Professor, Doctor Casimir, and Mister Clay had spent 
much of the night talking history and other such matters with 
Nimatar and some of the other elder Maiar. They looked a little 
worn out, even Clay, who was considerably younger than the 
two elderly scholars. Apparently wine was required for any 
thoughtful discussion with a Maia.
     Kuno sat quietly next to Nabiki, maintaining his meditative state. 
They hadn’t spoken much to each other, but instead enjoyed a 
comfortable silence. Nabiki’s songbirds did most of the talking. 
     Nabiki for her part found that she could almost guess what 
they were saying, and of course they seemed to understand every 
word she said. She suspected that whatever Sarophan had done to 
extend their lifespans, he had also given them the talents to read 
people’s emotions, if not their thoughts to some extent. Innael, 
Birathiel, and Gliredhel had been great comforts to her 
considering her present confusion regarding Tatewaki Kuno. 
She was fond of him, she had to admit it, but she had no idea 
if it was worth the effort of going anywhere with her feelings. 
Anytime she got close to him he just clung that much tighter to 
the hopeless romance of his Pig-Tailed Girl. Her songbirds hadn’t 
been much help for advice, but they always tried to make her 
feel better.
     She looked over at Ranma and Akane, who were sitting 
between herself and Hiro. For a moment she considered dumping 
cold water on Ranma in front of Kuno just to show once and for 
all that his Pig-Tailed Girl fantasies were just that; fantasies. She 
thought better of it upon further reflection. She’d changed Ranma 
in his very arms and he had either been too dimwitted to figure it 
out, or some part of his subconscious had shifted into emergency 
to block out reality. 
     If it was a case of him being too dimwitted, she could always 
help him figure it out eventually. Ranma might object to the 
“Ukyo Treatment” with the alternating hot and cold water, but 
what the heck? The problem was if it was the second case. If 
it was, there was truly no hope for him. Nabiki just didn’t feel 
strongly enough for him to go through the agony of breaking 
through his thick skull to make him see the light.
     The slow burn she was putting on him might work, but it was 
a question of diminishing returns there. Was that sword swinging, 
poetry spouting blockhead really worth the effort? That was the 
question she kept asking herself of late.
     She looked away from her reflection on Tatewaki Kuno and 
towards the center of the gathering. She saw a familiar pair of 
sea-colored eyes looking back at her. **Aerandir is here!**
     “Aerandir!” She called to him, standing up and waving her 
hand. The songbirds began to chirp, matching her excitement. 
The others looked up and saw him. 
     “Nabiki!” Aerandir returned. “Why am I not surprised to 
find your fair presence amongst this gathering?”
     He strode across the open space between the circle of Maiar 
and headed straight towards her. He placed his hands on her 
shoulders and kissed her brow, then bowed for her as she blushed.
     “Your servant,” he declared. 
     “I was wondering if we were going to see you again,” she said 
to him.
     “Did I not say we would meet again? I had an idea that Ranma 
and Akane would not be the only ones invited to this Conclave.” 
At this he bowed his head for the two as they sat on the grass and 
watched him.
     Anazali stepped up then and kissed his cheek, which he returned.
     “It is good to see you here, Sil Amarn,” she told him.
     “I have made my bunk,” Aerandir said in reply. “And now I 
must sleep in it.”
     “That eases my heart Sil Amarn,” Urthel declared from behind 
Ranma, Akane, and Hiro. “I for one did not look forward to facing 
you across the point of a spear, had you sided with your uncle.”
     Aerandir’s appearance had created quite a stir amongst the 
Maiar. Conversations stopped as one by one the little families 
and cliques began paying attention to one of the oldest of their 
race. Aerandir was in fact junior only to Sarophan and Nimatar, 
and to his brother Palandir by only ten years, a pittance 
considering his span.
     “Have we already decided that there will be open war amongst 
us?” Aerandir asked loud enough for all to hear. There were 
various murmurings from the crowd. “There are so few of us 
left in this world, and our work is far from done! You wish to 
spill rare blood so readily?”
     “Sarophan has pushed this upon himself!” Someone declared. 
They were keeping their speech open for the sake of Ranma and 
the others.
     “How many innocent lives will be snuffed out when he loses 
control of the Heart of the World?” Another asked. “Better that 
we pay for our folly with our own blood than spill any more of 
our cousins’!” At this he gestured to the small group that was 
Ranma and company.
     Aerandir retorted by gesturing to a woman nearby. Her skin 
glowed with a silvery sheen, and she was very pregnant. He 
walked over to her and humbly asked that she stand. The 
woman could not refuse a request from Aerandir and did so. 
He pointed to the woman’s belly.
     “Not only do you seek to spill our rare blood, but you deny 
this unborn child the chance to realize her potential. To become 
one of us! You doom her to the span of but a handful of years 
with an open battle in the Crown of Eternity!”
     Akane’s eyes flashed at the mention of that name. Hiro looked 
over at her with an equally astonished look. He tugged at Anazali’s 
sleeve as she was watching the debate. She looked down at them 
with a puzzled expression.
     “What is it, Hiro?” She asked.
     “What’s the Crown of Eternity?”
     “It’s the place where the Heart of the World will rise,” she 
replied. “Why do you ask?”
     “Because Ranma and I have heard that name before,” Akane 
declared. “In our visions during the events.”
     “What’s Aerandir talking about?” Ranma thought to add. 
“What’s that pregnant lady got to do with it?”
     Anazali sat down with them and ignored the discussion that was 
now filling with new voices.
     “The Crown of Eternity is a place where the Heart of the World 
has risen many times before,” she began. “I was born there a little 
over a thousand years ago. The men among us would take their 
wives while they were in the final stages of their pregnancies to 
the place where the Heart of the World rose. They would have 
the baby there in the hopes that exposure to the energies would 
help the child be like us instead of just another human. 
     “You see it’s exposure to the energies of the world that lengthen 
our spans. Some of us can handle those forces and use them to 
heal our wounds or to keep us young. Most of our children never 
learn how unless they are exposed to great power at a young age, 
birth preferably. That is why we are so few even though we don’t 
age and rarely die. We just don’t bear enough new Maia children 
into the world. The attrition is greater than we can make up for. 
What Aerandir is saying is that we would not only destroy 
ourselves but our dim hopes at a future as well.”
     “If you don’t age and rarely die, then why can’t you keep up?” 
Hiro asked. “Do you have problems getting pregnant?”
     “Somewhat,” Anazali admitted. “We try to establish our 
chances at conception for times when the Heart of the World will 
rise, but the very energies we use to sustain ourselves can be 
disruptive to our reproductive cycles.
     “And just because we don’t age doesn’t mean we have the 
endurance for immortality,” Anazali went on. “Many of us cannot 
go on for millennia or even centuries devoting their lives to helping 
you people help yourselves. You have disappointed us many times 
in history, times when even I have considered ending my life 
because it all seemed so futile. I had just enough strength, desire, 
and hope to continue on, many of my people do not. They 
commit suicide or just pine away when they don’t even have 
the strength to end themselves quickly. The ones that give up 
are lost to us, even if they don’t die right away.”
     “So where _is_ the Crown of Eternity?” Ranma asked.
     “A vast ring of rock formed by two mountains on an island 
in Antarctica.”
     “What?!” Ranma, Hiro, and Akane cried in unison. 
“Antarctica?!”
     “I believe it’s called Ross Island these days. The mountains 
were given the unflattering names of Mt. Erebus and Mt. Terror. 
Our names are much more appropriate.”
     “We’re gonna freeze to death!” Hiro cried. “It’s the dead of 
winter down there.”
     “Oh no, it will be quite comfortable, I can assure you.” Anazali 
replied calmly.
     She turned her attentions back towards the debate. Minhiriath 
was speaking, and she enjoyed listening to the old astronomer 
speak. He stepped out into the circle, as Aerandir stepped to the 
side and Urthel and Nimatar’s groups. Minhiriath was wearing 
faded jeans and his soft knee high boots, and proudly wore his 
Grateful Dead T-shirt. It seemed hard to believe that the golden-
skinned man received the attention and respect that he did.
     “I can understand the impetuousness of our younger kin,” he 
began. “Most of those gathered here are not old enough to have 
ever seen the Herald of the Nazarene in the sky, and for them 
our tales of the old world are as fantastic as they would be to 
any who were not of our blood.”
     Aerandir stood silently, letting the astronomer continue. His 
silence was keeping the others silent as well. At least for the 
moment. He hadn’t said anything particularly inflammatory yet.
     “But I cannot as one of the elders among us allow such open 
bloodshed. I stand with Aerandir in this regard. We have our 
means of staying Sarophan’s hand, and it is not by force of 
arms.” He pointed to Ranma and Akane.
     “What will stop him from slaying the Wayfinders if we do not 
fight?” came the retort.
     “I never said anything about not preparing for battle,” Minhiriath 
rebuked. “But I must agree with Aerandir that we must not 
predispose ourselves to battle before we even leave this island. 
We must make one final appeal to Sarophan. At least let the 
thought of negotiating into your hearts!”
     “Negotiate?” 
     This cry was echoed incredulously several times, creating 
quite a rumble of discord. Finally Nimatar rose from his chair 
and silenced them with a raised hand. He returned the debate 
to Minhiriath with a nod.
     “Yes, negotiate!” He cried. “Ask him to wait for one more 
cycle, perhaps two. Think of all that we can achieve in that time! 
Our cousins are finally starting to act their age. Perhaps within 
that time they can, with our continuing and discrete support, 
ease the world’s burdens so that Sarophan will not think it 
necessary to seize the Heart of the World to set things right.”
     He turned in a circle to look at all of them.
     “For as much as he has been demonized by this circle, he is 
still a good man at heart. His intentions are to help this world 
restore itself and to ease the burdens of it’s children. I am but 
half the span of Aerandir, and a third that of Nimatar and 
Sarophan, and so I cannot truly know the weight of so many 
years upon my soul. Perhaps he has become too weary to 
continue at such a pace, that he seeks a quick end to our 
struggle.”
     “He shall have it if he does what he sets out to do!” A 
particularly militant Maia yelled.
     “Elentirmo speaks the truth,” Nimatar said then, gesturing to 
Minhiriath, who was also known as Elentirmo for his chosen 
profession. “Sarophan has been unjustly demonized by those 
present. I have known the man for years beyond number, and 
have walked with him along the very tree-lined avenues of 
Eldalonde ere it was drowned. We should not be too hasty to 
draw sword or set spear.”
     The debate continued on as to how much of an offensive 
footing they should present at the Crown of Eternity. It was lost 
upon Nabiki and the scientists, but Ranma, Hiro, Kuno, and 
even Akane were of a martial nature, and understood the need 
to know what the strategy was going to be. They listened intently, 
hoping a direct confrontation could be avoided. The chance that 
Sarophan might even negotiate left them the hope that fighting 
wouldn’t be necessary at all. 
     Akane said as much, but when Hiro and Ranma snorted in 
reply her heart fell. Whatever their hopes, both of them were 
planning to fight. Kuno as well, though he was keeping quiet 
about it. 


     Ryoga Hibiki had made his way to the island with the last group 
of Maia. He hadn’t seen Minhiriath since the previous night, and 
had eventually fallen asleep in one of the tents belonging to another 
group. They had fed him in the morning and took him with them to 
the island. When Minhiriath started to speak, he made his way 
slowly and politely down the slope of the hill towards the center.
     He didn’t notice (or expect in a million years) for his friends to 
be at the bottom of the slope, and so when he blithely stepped on 
Kuno’s hand, he was quite astonished.
     Kuno looked up and barked, “watch thy step Hibiki, lest ye feel 
the....” His words died in his throat as he saw Ryoga looking down 
at him.
     At the mention of Ryoga’s surname, everyone else turned 
around to look at him in surprise and wonder.
     “Hey Hibiki!” Hiro cried. “Man did _you_ ever get lost!”
     Ranma actually looked pleased to see him. “Ryoga! How’s it 
going? Are you with someone or, as crazy as this sounds, _did you 
actually get lost and wander here?_”
     Nabiki tousled his hair fondly. “Looking good, Ryoga. I’m not 
going to be so crass as the others and suggest you got lost or 
something.” The songbirds twittered laughter.
     Akane gave him a hug, which made him turn beet red. “I’m 
glad to see you Ryoga!” She cried. He got weak in the knees.
     “Sit down before you fall down,” Ranma advised him. “Man, 
how the _hell_ did you get here?”
     Ryoga blushed at the memories of it. He scratched his head 
and smiled weakly. “Eh, it’s ah, it’s a long story...”
     “I can imagine,” Nabiki said dryly.
     “I gotta hear this one,” Hiro added. “Last time I saw you it 
was the middle of the winter outside of Nagasaki. What happened?”
     Ryoga continued to blush.
     “Oh leave him alone,” Akane scolded. “He’ll tell us when he’s 
ready.”
     “Have a seat,” Hiro offered. “Seems we have a regular 3rd 
Platoon reunion going on here, eh Saotome?”
     Ranma nodded. They had Kuno, Hiro, himself, and now Ryoga. 
All they were missing was Gosunkugi, although he wouldn’t be quite 
as happy to see Gosunkugi as was Ryoga. Hopefully the guy still 
remembered that he was his friend.
     **As long as he doesn’t blame me for whatever misfortunes 
got him so lost he ended up across the Pacific ocean, everything 
should be okay.**
     Ryoga sat down next to Hiro with a confused but also very 
happy grin. 
     The debate continued on for some time. Many of the assembled 
Maiar wanted to bring all of their fighters along to project strength 
to Sarophan. Nominally this was to help convince him to negotiate 
peacefully, perhaps even convince him to abandon his dangerous 
ambitions. Others felt that bringing so many fighters was just 
provoking a battle from the start. 
     All parties of thought wanted to allow those who were to bear 
children within the Crown of Eternity the chance to do so without 
interruption. There were three such pregnancies within Nimatar’s 
camp, and no one was certain among those loyal to Sarophan, 
though at least one was a safe bet. That would be their one 
chance to avoid to fight, assuming that Sarophan was of a 
similar mind to allow the expectant parents their chance for 
their childrens’ Maia inheiritance. Hopefully he would, such 
an event was sacred to the Maiar.
     As the noonday sun rose in the sky the wind began to pick up. 
The assembled Maiar began to sniff and taste at the air. The few 
children present began to giggle and laugh. Ranma and Akane felt 
a very familiar tingle in their spines and on the tips of their tongues.
     Aerandir laughed good naturedly. 
     “Ah! I was wondering when this would happen. Perhaps our 
ancestors can dispell some of the doubt and dissention within our 
ranks.”
     Anazali and Urthel agreed. Nabiki’s songbirds began to chirp 
in expectation.
     Minhiriath joined Ryoga and smiled. 
     “Answers will be forthcoming Ryoga my boy.”
     Ferguson looked to his white sensor boxes, which Nimatar had 
allowed to be set up to record the event data. Other sensors began 
whirring and he had his hands full trying to monitor them all, even 
with the help of Katy and Clay. He wished for the days of big 
trailers and dozens of assistants. On the other hand, he’d seen 
and done more in two weeks without them than he had in the 
past two years. 
     “<This is bloody well fantastic!>” He exclaimed to nobody 
in particular.
     Ranma and Akane stood up, hand in hand. The rest of the 
Maiar began watch them as they walked to the center of the circle. 
The wind gusted more, what was once cold and bitter was now 
warm and sweet smelling.
     Ryoga watched them go. He looked to Hiro.
     “What’s going on? What are Akane and Ranma doing?”
     Hiro crossed his eyes at that one. “Long story, but I’ll sum up. 
Somehow these two got picked by a bunch of spirits from some 
ancient civilization that was destroyed in some flood. -You know, 
lost continent of Atlantis and all of that. Anyways they got picked 
to stop this other survivor named Sarophan who’s planning on 
harnessing this energy source that’s gonna end causing the same 
disaster all over again. These events are how the ghosts talk to 
them.”
     Ryoga affected his best baffled look.
     “Hey, you asked,” Hiro told him curtly.
     Sparkles of light began to flash around the bowl. Maiar began 
to join hands and sing. Anazali took Aerandir’s hand, who took 
Nabiki’s. Nabiki snatched up Kuno’s without a word, and the 
swordsman had the presence of mind to take Hiro’s. Hiro took 
Ryoga’s hand, and in turn he clasped Minhiriath’s. So it went 
until all present were joined save for Ranma and Akane in the 
center of the bowl.
     The wind rushed a third time and began to swirl around them. 
The flashes of light became brighter and larger. The voices of the 
Maiar joined in song rose and rose until they could be heard over 
the wind. Innael and her sisters knew the song well, and it seemed 
in that moment that their voices and harmony were multiplied a 
thousand fold.
     “Here goes,” Ranma said to Akane. “Hopefully we gotta do 
this just one more time after this one.”
     Akane nodded in reply.
     The event rushed in from the lines and exploded at the 
junction that the ancient Maia who was known to some as 
Wiraqocha had made with his hand and heart. His own song 
joined those of his assembled kin from across space and time. 
Golden light spilled from out of nowhere and bathed all present 
in it’s warming radiance.
     Ranma and Akane were lifted off the ground, and spun slowly 
within the whirlwind that was the very heart of the event. 



     The vision exploded into view before their eyes. 
     They were in the garden they had seen from the event in Spain. 
Great black mountains circled the garden, towering high above 
them on all sides. The sky was dark and they watched storm 
clouds gathering above them. 
     The stone lions appeared in front of them. Water spilled from 
their mouths as it had before. This time wherever the water fell 
flowers sprang up in hundreds of colors and varieties. The lions 
walked towards the center of the garden, and Ranma and Akane 
followed hand in hand.
     At the center of the garden stood Ukyo. She was clad in her 
okonomiyaki chef’s clothes. She held her battle spatula in an en 
guarde stance. She was standing before the prism, the white 
pyramid they had seen in previous visions. It was but four feet 
tall and sat upon a base of black basalt. The lions stood around 
the prism and wept from their eyes as well as their mouths.
     Ranma reached out to Ukyo, to pull her away from the prism. 
She responded by swatting him savagely with her spatula. Ranma 
was knocked twenty feet back. He rolled to his feet a little 
stunned, not just by the force of the blow but by the fact that 
Ukyo had struck him.
     “Ucchan!” He called to her.
     He got back to his feet and started towards her again.
     “Be careful Ranma!” Akane told him. “Something’s wrong 
with her!”
     “You ain’t kidding,” Ranma grunted. “That wasn’t Ukyo’s 
usual love tap. She hit me full force.”
     He came with arm’s reach and stopped. Ukyo eyed him warily, 
keeping her battle spatula pulled back to swing.
     “Ucchan, it’s me, Ranchan,” he said softly to her. “I’m you’re 
friend, remember?”
     He offered her his hand.
     “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here, huh?” 
     He reached for her, and she clobbered him again. He had never 
seen her move so fast. The first blow came down squarely on top 
of his head, buckling his knees and making him bite his tongue. 
The second and third blows landed on either side of his head, 
boxing his ears and dropping him to the ground. She deftly 
scooped him up before he could lie prone at her feet and threw 
him a good thirty feet.
     “Ranma!” Akane cried. “Ukyo, why? You’re our friend!”
     ^Look again, Akane.^ The lions told her.
     She looked back to Ukyo. A strange aura glowed around her. 
It looked like an older man with a beard and silver eyes. She had 
never seen the man before, but knew him to be Sarophan.
     Ranma was just coming to his senses. He spit out blood from 
his tongue and looked sternly to Ukyo. 
     “I thought you and I were friends... I didn’t want to do this, 
since I don’t fight girls, but you aren’t giving me much choice! I 
tried to be nice!”
     ^Look again, Ranma.^
     He stopped in midcharge and looked closely at Ukyo. He 
saw the aura of Sarophan around her. He grit his teeth and cast 
a hard glance to the lions.
     “So what are we supposed to do? Fight this guy Sarophan if 
we want to save Ukyo?”
     The stone lions were silent.
     “I thought you were supposed to be helping us! You got Akane 
and me doing your dirty work for you, howzabout a little goddamn 
help here!”
     ^Look to yourselves within yourselves.^
     “What?” Ranma spluttered.
     Akane understood.
     “Ranma! Take my hand!”
     “What?”
     “You said it yourself, dummy! There is a part of each of us 
inside the other! We aren’t strong enough unless we can use all of 
ourselves at once. We can’t do that without each other!”
     _Now_ Ranma got it.
     He took hold of Akane’s hand. Power flowed through them. 
More power than they had ever felt in their lives. The image of 
Sarophan faded from Ukyo, who smiled for them as she lowered 
her spatula and faded from sight as well.



     The world exploded back into view around them. The winds 
lowered them gently to the ground as the last of the light sparkled 
away. The Maiar were still singing, their voices lowered reverently 
as the last of the energy trickled away.
     The two settled down upon the grass and held onto each other. 
Hiro, Nabiki, Kuno and Ryoga came up to them. Aerandir and the 
other Maia finished their song. Their ancestors had spoken to them, 
and they knew the proper course of action to take.
     “Are you two okay?” Hiro asked.
     “Yeah,” Ranma replied. “We’re all right.”
     “What did you see?” Nabiki asked. “It must have shook you 
up pretty bad. You both look as pale as ghosts.”
     “We saw Ukyo,” Ranma said.
     “She was fighting us to keep us away from the prism,” Akane 
added. “We couldn’t get her to stop.”
     Nabiki looked as if she had been struck. She had feared this 
since Paris. She had hoped that it would never happen. Reality 
seemed to be offering a different venue.
     “Ukyo?” She cried. 
     “I’m sorry Nabiki,” Akane said. “I know how much she means 
to you. She’s our friend too.”
     Hiro moved to place a reassuring hand on Nabiki’s shoulder, 
only to have Tatewaki Kuno’s hand get there first. The swordsman 
gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. The songbirds chirped 
and twittered in an attempt to cheer her up.
     Nabiki looked absolutely devastated.
     “It’s my fault,” she said sadly. “I shouldn’t have left her there 
with Sarophan.”
     Aerandir came up behind them. “No Nabiki, if there was ever 
blame it should be laid before my feet. I should have asked her to 
join us.”
     “Who cares about blame?” Ranma cried. “It doesn’t matter 
now! What matters is doing what we have to get this guy Sarophan’s 
meat hooks out of her. I’ll tear his damn heart out with my bare 
hands if I have to, but no one does that to Ucchan!”
     He looked up to the sky.
     “You hear me Sarophan?!” He bellowed. “Nobody does this to 
Ucchan and gets away with it! NOBODY!!!”



                       End of Part Nine



Author’s Notes:

1) My presentations of Andean myth and culture are derived from 
the marvelous book “The Secret of the Incas,” by William Sullivan, 
Ph.D., and published by Crown Publishers. It’s a fascinating look 
at how ancient myths are encoded with astronomical clues to 
provide an accurate timeline of events for a culture with no 
written language.

2) Wiraqocha is the name of the Andean peoples’ creation god. 
In keeping with the spirit of the Elohim from the Kharsag Epic 
(See my note in Part Six) I have made Wiraqocha one of the 
surviving Maia from the drowned continent. If you look close, 
the skills and morals Wiraqocha taught the Andean peoples are 
uncannily similar to what the Elohim taught the peoples of 
Mesopotamia. Makes you wonder just how fictional the legends 
of Atlantis are, doesn’t it?

3) For those of you who have never seen the Herald of the 
Nazarene, it probably means that you aren’t at least 2000 years 
old. You figure it out.

4) Inspiration for the Ryoga beer scene with Minhiriath courtesy 
of some homebrewed Fissionbrau Porter. There’s nothing like 
drinking a beer you made yourself.

5) Thanks always to those beautiful souls who provide C&C. 
Your voice is heard and usually taken seriously. (Unless you’re 
an Ukyo fan with an axe to grind, right Sean? :P)

6) Tune in sometime before November 20th for the big finale 
of Chasing the Wind. (‘Cause if I don’t get it done by then I turn 
into a pumpkin!) I don’t know how big it’s gonna be, but I’m 
betting at least 30,000 words. (At least!) 

7) As Jack Burton (Kurt Russell) said in the classic John Carpenter 
flick “Big Trouble in Little China” : “Sonuvabitch must pay!”

Free the Nukes!