The story
Marshall and Lilly have separated, mostly due to Marshall's inability to deal with his 'problem', which he is convinced he will have for life. Evan and Valaura are married in Chicago, and the night of their wedding, Marshall and Lilly are reunited -- but only for the night. What they don't know is that Lilly becomes pregnant from that one night stand.
Months later, Marshall invites his three friends to come to Cairo, to see STOCKHOLM perform at an international peace festival. Evan and Valaura have been fighting about having children, and it doesn't appear as if it will be resolved.
When Marshall looks into his luggage after arriving in Cairo, the chalice has transformed itself into a sword with a crystal in the grip and provided its' own scabbard. Marshall wears it as part of his costume, and when a riot breaks out in the middle of the STOCKHOLM performance, turning the 'peace festival' into a gang war between Moslems and 'infidels', he uses the sword.
Off the four go to The Land of the Sword, and another adventure on the other side. This time they must rescue an enchanted city and its' women from brutalization by the hideous and savage Slamites, people who worship a deity named Mudmat and devote their lives to cruelty and barbarism.
Add to this the fact that all the races haven't really learned to live well together as yet, and there is still fighting between the Daemona, Anjele and Amazzones. Some new people arrive to assist in this newest quest: Faeries from the Emerald Isle who have some unusual and sometimes humorous powers, shape-changing centaurs from The Land of the Sun and a feminist goddess named Anna.
Add to this that Lilly is pregnant with twins, and the adventures abound for all before they arrive back in Cairo, still in the midst of a raging peace festival run amok.
Sample Chapter: #11 - Surely Sherl
Sherl was well aware that her position in life would now depend upon some man. For the first time since she was a small child she wanted to cry. Hormones, she thought. What a time to be pregnant! At least she didn't show -- much, anyway. If the game was about being taken in and sheltered by a male of any species, she was sure to be the loser. Sherl was taller that most men, with the exception of those last two sex slaves, and built along magnificent lines that were intimidating at the least. She was missing one breast as were all of the adult Amazzone women, and she did not believe any man would want her. And, of course, she was carrying another man's child.
She was quite sure that the father of this baby had no reason to care about her or the child, and knew that the society she'd come from had been warped in such a way as to make that reasonable. There was much to discuss, but one thing she needed to do was to get Marshall alone. Once done - how do you apologize for rape? For she knew that was what it had been; the insights she'd garnered during the last few months had altered her more than she would have
believed possible. How could she have felt justified in turning someone into her property, when that was the very thing ...
Internally, she seethed. That was what being an Amazzone was all about -- not being vulnerable to the whim of any man.
She began to wish that she had never agreed to be leader of this expedition. A thirst for the new, and a saner way of life might be better pursued when one wasn't with child. A number of her sisters felt the same. And knew that men would not be attracted to them. Of course, that last didn't matter much. Men, in her experience, weren't all that much fun between the sheets. Oh, the physical side of things was all right, but there was no emotional satisfaction in it.
She had not been forced to leave the Amazzone city, none of them had been, and she might go back some day. But her sense of adventure had lured her onward, and she hadn't given thought to the untenable position she might be put into. Until now. At home, her sisters of the Warrior lodge would have cared for her during that time in late pregnancy and just after birth when it was most needed. They would have helped to nurture her little girl when she came, and Sherl felt a surge of joy at the realization that her child, if a male, would now live to grow up and fight it's own battles. This business of exposing male children, while she had accepted it stoicly before, now struck her as barbaric. Worthy of a man, an idea like that. How had queen Opheltes ever come up with it, and why had none of them opposed it?
The castle of the Anjele was quickly approaching, and her nerves felt on edge. For her there was no possible approach but the direct. She was the putative leader of those women who had wanted to make this attempt at association with men. Upon arrival, she and the other women were shown to the old barracks. It was a roomy, comfortable, barn-like affair with a communal shower area, and stall-type toilet facilities. At least it would have been comfortable if there had been even the hint of color or softness to the furnishings. To Sherl's eyes it was drab and lifeless. A lifelessness that didn't last long. The women unrolled their colorful sleeping bags to use as comforters and hung cheerfully colored outfits in the open closets; and the barracks had taken on a new distinction.
* * *
Back at his uncle's castle, Abaddon was reveling in the night air. Knowing that a boy who could fly would probably enjoy being housed in the attic, Beelzebub had seen that his attic was freshly painted and draped. It made him chuckle to think of the joys of surreptitious night flying that he recalled from his own youth. Of course, in his case, his exhausted horse had told the tale to his mentors and tutors. He left it to Abaddon to disguise his night forays by himself.
Abbi was pondering just that subject, as he knelt on the frame of the lattice-work. He knew that his mother would not approve of his plans to survey the Mudmen's palace, however tolerant she might normally be of his propensity to explore. But he planned on being careful, and was sure he would be back before daylight - or not long after. Setting his sights on the constellation they called Woman of the Sun, he glided into the quiescent air. It was delicious. There was nothing quite like the desert at night, when the small life that hid in daylight was out and about. It was chilly and he was glad he'd thought to wear his warm woolens. Who'd have believed the desert would be so cold?
Abbi had discovered several years before that he was really a night-bird, much to his delight. The dark held no mysteries for him and he could see the scurrying mice on the sands below. They crawled out of burrows that were sheltered by barely surviving scrub plants and made for the nearby oasis. Before him loomed the home of the mudmen. He blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to him that they were so called because their homes were made of mud.
The outer building was large and, though Abbi didn't know it, was similar in structure to a Mexican-style adobe fortress. He hovered over the top, curious as to where they'd gotten the wood, and how they'd transported it, and -- oh, a thousand things. He could hardly wait for the bazaar. Maybe he could get one of the Mudmen to talk about themselves, if any of them came. One of the lessons he'd learned from his grandfather was that most people wanted to talk about themselves. The center of the structure was an open-air court and he thought that was silly. The thick walls of the buildings made sense, given where it was, deep in the desert, but the courtyard should have been roofed, or covered in some way. He swooped in for a closer look.
She was standing on an arched terrace some 50 feet above ground, and she was staring at him as if entranced. "Who knew death would be so pretty, and it is a feminine character, so the old verses were right. Kali, take my soul if I have one, and if I don't, I prefer oblivion to what happens after my next menses. Either way, thank you for coming." And then she stepped forward, serene in the knowledge that death was waiting.
Abbi heard the whole speech and was shocked to hear himself called feminine, as well as to hear someone asking to die. His young body was a stranger to the desire to die. It was beyond his imagining. Surely, she didn't mean it. It was like when he'd said he'd eat ice grubs and die - he'd regretted it after the first grub. He dived as her foot went over the edge, screaming 'NO!' at the full capacity of his over-developed lung power. He was below her in the air and began to beat upward with his wings, taking the impact of her fall in his chest. Come morning, she would thank him for this.
* * *
Sherl groomed herself carefully for the meeting that night. One of the other women helped her dress her mass of red-orange hair in becoming curls which were held in place by carefully placed braids of ribbon. She was nervous in her first attempt to impress men. She wasn't hoping to attract one, just to be attractive enough to bargain effectively. There were no mirrors in this place so she could only hope that the effect was pleasing.
For his part, Puck was overwhelmed when he saw her. Surely not all the Amazzone women could be this -- large? A woman should be a soft and delicate partner to her mate. Not a vivid creature with red hair - and in a striking yellow tunic and leggings. When Puck thought of a bride, this was definitely not the image he conjured, and he'd had many long, empty years to dream about the possibilities. Was she pregnant, he wondered? Hard to tell, as something as insignificant as a baby would be lost in that massive frame. But, perhaps she was just a little thick about the waist? If she belonged to anyone she wouldn't be here, he remembered. Must get her bonded to some man as soon as possible. No unclaimed babies here. That was no way to run a palace.
The concept of an unclaimed baby (unless it was a male) was completely foreign to someone who came from a society of women. The baby would, of course, have the same status she had. That was what Sherl was here to negotiate.
Marshall was surprised at his own feelings when he looked at Sherl. He found that he didn't really hate her. How had he missed that look of vulnerability in their former meetings? Then he remembered the unfeeling way she had treated him, and that hardened his heart. One thing for certain, she could never play the part of a `weak woman' with him. To do her justice, she probably didn't know how.
That feeling was confirmed when she spoke her piece. She knew what men were like, having grown up in a society that was created to shield women from them. And she had very specific ideas on what would be acceptable to women from her society. Firstly, if a woman could do a job, then she must be able to compete for it. Women were not, repeat not, the property of any man. They were to each have their own status and occupations, and those were to be on a scale with men's status. "What do you mean by that?" said an incensed Puck.
"It's really very simple. We were visited once by a man from Lord Marshall's world. He called himself `Ned'. He told stories of how, for example, a man who cooked as his employment would be called a `chef' and a woman who did the same was just a `good cook'. There will be none of that here. If a man is as good as a woman in my new home, he will certainly share the higher title, (she sniffed as if it were unlikely that any man could equal her women) but there will be no lessening of a chef's value just because she is a woman." She took a deep breath. "Another thing, no job will be treated as being of less value because it becomes a woman's specialty with few or no men in the field. Ned warned me about that, too."
Marshall was enjoying this, for he knew how foreign these ideas were to anybody raised under the rule of Yahoo. And how foreign the idea of male equality was to anyone raised under the rule of Opheltes. He knew that her steward, Hypsipylle, would make some pertinent changes in their society and wondered why Sherl had decided to leave. Truly, without members of both sexes any society was doomed, but their new queen wouldn't maintain the status quo - would she? Puck's reaction was surprising, to Marshall at least. "Are you saying you want special privileges? To stand as equals among men, you must be able to perform as a man."
Sherl chuckled. "Well, ain't that interesting? A man who thinks he's as capable as I am. I'm a warrior by profession, and even though I'm more than `a little bit pregnant' I'll be glad to take on the best of your warriors in an exhibition fight. I'm afraid my responsibility to the baby prevents me from doing more. As to the matter of chefs and such, why don't we have a blind competition with these blasted Daemona as judges? If my women don't hold their own overall I'll concede your point."
Soon, much to Marshall's surprise, he was overseeing plans for a fair. One and all were invited, and all would be the judges. He drew from his memories of the local fairs he had played at over the years and was surprised at how many events there were to be. As the lamp burned late (an oil lamp, as the Angeles got their supplies from a rich supply of oil shale near-by) he lost track of time. So he was surprised to see dawn breaking while he, Sherl, and Puck rubbed their burning eyes.
Sterling came bursting into the room. "Abaddon's gone. Not in his bed and his mother doesn't know where to find him. No one's seen him since yesterday. I'm leaving, don't know when I'll be back." For the first time, Marshall heard an audible clap of air as Sterling disappeared.
"Now, who in the world is Abaddon?" asked Sherl.
Puck told her, in slightly acerbic tones, assuming she wouldn't care about the fate of a male child.
For his part Marshall was irritated as well as exhausted and worried. "How the hell are we supposed to get there and help them if every damn light-bearer in the place abandons us?" And it seemed they all had, for the entire contingent was missing.
Back in her quarters, Sherl gathered her warriors around her. "This is our chance to prove ourselves to these people. Desert gear for all of us, and remember to carry plenty of water bags. I don't like the idea of a missing child near the home of the Slamites. We've all heard the stories. Remember that poor child who came to us some 80 years ago. She didn't live long, but ..."
* * *
Abaddon was opening his eyes. The lids felt heavy, and he wondered if he had to get up now or if he could snatch a little more sleep before breakfast. As his vision cleared he found himself looking into the liquid brown gaze of the girl in his arms. "Am I dead now?" Her voice was full of anticipation.