AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story takes place a couple of years after the series. Tor is romantically involved with Sheera, and she knows about his Mightor identity. "Moby Dick and the Mighty Mightor" and its characters (with the exception of "Korga" and "Mara") are the property of Turner Network Television, copyright 1967, Hanna Barbera Productions.

"It's not much farther now, Sheera," Tor promised.

"It's all right, I'm enjoying the walk," Sheera told him.

They walked side by side through the jungle, fishing poles over their shoulders, with Tog gliding along overhead. The sunlight filtered down through the trees and cast spots of light on the leafy floor ahead of them. But even if it had been pouring rain, Tor thought with a glance at Sheera's beautiful face, it would still be a perfect day because she was at his side. He kept a lookout for the ring of palm trees that marked the entrance to the clearing, the special place he wanted to bring her. There--there they were. "Close your eyes, Sheera."

"Okay, they're closed."

"You're sure?" he teased, reaching out a hand to cover her eyes.

"I'm sure! You're so mysterious, Tor."

"Come on, Tog, we're here." Tor called to the dragon. Tog flew ahead and swooped through the trees. Tor took Sheera's arm and guided her into the sunlit clearing he'd discovered a few days ago. Graceful trees and full berry bushes surrounded it. Toward the center a waterfall cascaded into a clear blue lake--a lake, Tor had discovered, that was full of the biggest fish he'd ever seen.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Sheera quivered with anticipation.

"Go ahead," Tor grinned.

"Oh, Tor!" The early morning sun glittered like jewels on the rippling water of the lake, but it was nothing compared to the sparkle in her emerald colored eyes. "It's just beautiful!"

"All mine." He took her hand. "Nobody else knows about it--well, as far as I know."

They walked together along the water's edge, approaching the mighty waterfall that spilled into the end of the lake. It roared in Tor's ears, drowning out the loud shrieks of the brightly colored birds that flew overhead. Sheera's hand was warm in his. Her wide, expressive eyes drank in every detail of the clearing's beauty.

"Li'l Rok would have dived into that lake by now." she told him.

"It's sure peaceful, with him away visiting his friend Norg." Tor grinned to let her know he was teasing.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sheera's eyes flashed like green ice.

"I'm only joking!" Tor protested. "Really, I enjoy spending time with him," he reassured her; he felt as close to Li'l Rok as if the boy were his own

brother instead of Sheera's, "but sometimes, well, I want to spend time with you, alone."

"So do I." Sheera admitted with a shy smile. "Li'l Rok keeps you so busy swimming and fishing, I sometimes think you don't notice me."

He brushed her lips with his. "I can't help but notice you, Sheera." Her eyes softened and she slipped her arms around his shoulders. A warm wind ruffled her hair and brought its fragrance to his nose. He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers. Forever, it seemed, he'd loved her, this wonderful girl he now held in his arms. He still couldn't believe she returned his love. The warmth of her lips against his made an indescribable joy well up inside him. It filled him so completely it would have been impossible for him to hold any more. They moved closer to the lake to lay down their poles and sit in the shade of a large tree. Tor slipped his arm around Sheera's shoulders. She snuggled comfortably against him. He leaned back against the tree and she moved with him, resting her head against his shoulder.

He'd been wrong, he realized, when he'd thought he could hold no more joy.He gazed contentedly over the rippling lake, with the roughness of the tree bark against his back and the silkiness of Sheera's hair under his hand. The day stretched out peacefully before him, with no Li'l Rok, no other villagers, nobody who needed Mightor. Just Sheera, soft and warm in his arms. To be alone with her in a quiet place like this was a rare and precious thing.

"Just listen to that waterfall, Tor. I don't know how you ever found this place. It's so peaceful and beautiful." Sheera spoke dreamily. "I love to be near the water. Our river at home gets so crowded with people coming and going all day long. It's wonderful to get away to a place where it's quiet."

Tor tightened his arms around her, touched deeply as he always was when she opened up her heart to him. She was usually too busy worrying about her family's needs to think about her own. "I know how you feel, Sheera, because I feel the same way. That's why I like to find out of the way places like this to bring you to."

"You're always so thoughtful." She lifted her face to his. "That's one of the many things I love about you."

He rested his hand against her cheek and gazed into her eyes for a long moment, losing himself in their green depths. "There's many things I love about you, too," he told her. The love that shone in her eyes, the fragrance of her hair, her very closeness overwhelmed his senses and he pulled her close for another kiss.

From somewhere in the jungle, a twig snapped with a loud crack. In an instant Tor was on his feet with his club in his hand, not knowing at first why he'd leaped up so quickly. He looked around, listened, but didn't see or hear anything unusual.

"Tor?" Sheera climbed to her feet. "What's the matter?"

"Ssshh," he warned, listening hard. He still could hear nothing, but he sensed that something wasn't quite right and his hunter's instinct had never failed him. Suddenly he realized what was the matter. Except for that twig snapping the jungle was quiet. Much too quiet.

Sheera's eyes widened with terror. "T-t-tor--" she choked. Tor whirled around. To his horror he saw that several men had emerged from the jungle. From the stone shields and the stone-spiked clubs they carried, he knew at once what tribe they were from. Rogg's Stone Men!

The Stone Men, realizing they'd been seen, rushed Tor and Sheera. "Tog!" Tor grabbed Sheera and ran desperately toward Tog, half leading and half dragging her. The Stone Men were getting closer and closer, a few more paces and they'd be caught. But the dragon had already spread his wings at his first sight of the Stone Men and was now streaking toward Tor and Sheera. "Don't worry about me! Take Sheera!" Tor screamed. "Now!"

Tog grabbed Sheera's shoulders and lifted her into the air just as a pair of strong arms flung themselves around Tor. One twisted his arm and forced him to drop his club. The other tightened across his throat, choking off his breath. He heard men's laughter as he struggled futilely to get out of the huge man's grip.

"Good catch, Korga," a voice boomed. "Rogg will be pleased!"

To his relief, the huge Stone Man released the hold on his throat. Tor gasped for breath while Korga bound his arms tightly behind his back.

"The girl got away," one of the Stone Men commented.

"It doesn't matter," another replied. "This one is enough. He looks strong."

"Yes. He'll make a fine slave," Korga answered.

No! Tor kicked back at Korga and ran. He thought that he could hide in the jungle then circle back, get his club, and transform into Mightor. As the powerful warrior, he could easily overcome the Stone Men. But at the same time he knew that escape was impossible. Two Stone Men quickly caught up with him, lifted him off the ground and carried him, kicking, back to Korga. They threw him to the ground at Korga's feet.

"You can walk with us to Rogg," Korga said, "or you can be lashed to a pole and carried. The choice is yours."

Tor pulled himself up and met Korga's eyes. "I'll walk to Rogg," he said boldly, "but he won't have me for long!"

"We'll see about that." Korga signalled to the other Stone Men. "Come! Rogg awaits us! We must travel quickly before the girl returns with Mightor!"

As the Stone Men shoved him ahead of them into the jungle, Tor breathed a prayer of thankfulness for Sheera's safety and cursed his own stupidity. He hadn't paid attention to where he was. By his own inattention he'd put Sheera in danger, almost gotten her captured. You were supposed to be always alert when you were in the jungle. Wasn't that one of the first things he'd taught Li'l Rok? So why hadn't he followed his own instruction?

The Stone Men tore through the thick undergrowth as quickly as they could, shoving the branches aside with their hands. That was good, Tor thought. The hunters Sheera would bring back with her would be able to track them with no effort. As if reading Tor's thoughts, Korga directed them into the river. They waded single file, in hip-deep water, against the current. The bottom was rocky and the current strong. Tor stumbled. Korga caught him, slapped him across the face and shoved him roughly on ahead.

Tor pushed his way onward, spurred forward by Korga at a nearly impossible pace. With growing despair he realized that each step they took would make it that much harder for the Cave People's hunters to track them. The cold water made his muscles stiff and numb, and his throat began to feel dry. Still the Stone Men travelled forward, not stopping to drink, not even slowing their pace for a moment. Occasionally they cast nervous glances over their heads to make sure Mightor had not caught up with them.

Gradually the river widened, with white water tumbling over the huge boulders in the middle. The file of Stone Men left the water to walk on the bank. A roaring sound met Tor's ears, growing louder as they approached the spot where the river was fed by a larger one. The group turned to follow it upstream. Here, the trees and undergrowth began to thin out. Glimpses of a red-streaked sky between the trees told Tor how long they'd been travelling. He stumbled along wearily, with Korga behind him cursing his slowness.

The jungle finally gave way completely to an unfamiliar landscape of rugged mountains, large boulders and few trees. "Let's stop for a drink! If Mightor hasn't found us by now he never will!" Korga shouted. Eager for water, the Stone Men shrugged off their packs and weapons and knelt at the river's edge to drink deeply. "And you, slave--" Korga sneered at Tor "--don't you move...or else!" He brandished his spiked club threateningly. Tor waited on the bank and watched enviously as his captor knelt to quench his thirst.

Korga stood, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and waved them onward. Although they travelled at the same pace as before, the Stone Men's mood was now visibly relaxed. Even Korga talked and laughed with his comrades instead of cursing at Tor. As the redness in the sky faded to darkness, they arrived at a large village.

So this was where the Stone Men's village was. Tor had never seen it; neither he nor anyone he knew had ever ventured into the forbidden land of the Cliff Dwellers. It was too well known that whoever did never returned. The village was unimpressive. Its tiny, crudely built stone huts didn't fit at all with the legends that were told about this powerful tribe. Firelight flickered in the open doorways of the huts, and the mingled scents of wood smoke and roasting meat reminded Tor that he'd had nothing to eat since early that morning.

From what he knew of the Stone Men, he didn't expect to eat anytime soon.

Men stepped outside, their women behind them, to stare inquiringly at him. "A new slave for Rogg?" one stopped Korga to ask.

"Yes, a fine one, too." Korga's chest puffed up with pride. "Where's Rogg?"

The man pointed at a nearby hut. Again, it didn't fit the legends. Rogg was said to live in an enormous house, built of polished stone and ornately decorated, but his hut was identical to all the others. "He's been expecting you, Korga."

Korga shoved Tor ahead of him through the open doorway of Rogg's hut. Inside, the single room glowed with light from oil lamps and from a fire in the hearth that had burned down to coals. The smell of roasting meat was overpowering in the crowded living space. Next to the hearth, the Stone Men's chief raised his head in surprise at his visitors' entrance. A cold smile spread across his cruel face. "Ah, Korga, you've returned sooner than I expected. Come, sit and eat with me."

A woman was on the other side of the hearth. She was busily cutting slices of mammoth meat and arranging them on a wooden platter. Despite his hunger, Tor's attention was drawn not to the platter of meat, but to the water bag that hung in the corner. He'd have been satisfied with one swallow of water, just enough to wet his throat.

He doubted his captors would give him even that much. When the woman moved into the dim lamplight, Tor saw that she was red-headed and slight, nothing at all like the dark-haired, powerfully built women he'd seen in the village. Probably, he thought, Rogg had stolen her from another tribe and forced her to marry him. She set the heavily laden platter between the two men and stood back, waiting to see what they'd want her to do next. Tor noticed that she was careful to stand well out of Rogg's reach. His heart ached with pity for her; how terrible it must be for her to be married to such a cruel, evil man.

Rogg and Korga began to tear off huge bites of the meat, smacking their lips noisily as if it had been days since they'd last eaten. The woman waited a few more moments, then turned and picked up the water bag. With one wary eye on the men, she moved slowly across the room until she was standing in front of Tor. Now that she was this close, Tor could see her clearly. Once, he thought, she'd been very beautiful, but now her hair was dirty and matted, and her bruised, gaunt face made her appear older than she probably was. The misery in her eyes made him forget his own discomforts. Anger boiled inside him; how could Rogg mistreat his wife so cruelly?

"Here." She tipped the water bag up to Tor's lips. He swallowed the cool liquid gratefully.

"Thank you," he whispered.

His words startled her; she was obviously unused to being thanked. "When they're finished eating," her soft whisper was almost impossible to hear, "we'll be given what's left over. Though it usually isn't very much," she warned.

"The water's enough," Tor reassured her. He was stunned by the genuine concern in her eyes. How had she kept herself from becoming as coldhearted and cruel as her husband and his tribe? "I'll take some more, if you have it."

"Woman!" Rogg roared. "Bring that water bag over here! We're about to perish from thirst!"

The woman turned toward the men, but not before Tor had seen the fear and hopelessness return to her eyes. Suddenly, he understood. She wasn't Rogg's wife at all, but one of the slaves! He shuddered, seeing all too clearly the fate that Sheera had narrowly escaped. What if she had been captured along with him? His blood ran cold at the thought of some Stone Man keeping her in his hut, treating her worse than an animal. Without his club, there'd be no help for her, no hope--No, stop it, he ordered himself. Don't even think about that.

"And was your journey successful?" Rogg was asking through a mouthful of meat.

"Yes." Korga paused to belch loudly. "We found several villages. They're far enough away so that Mightor will not be a problem."

"Good. Once the slaves have finished building the stone dragon, we'll go to those villages and take many more slaves. Not even Mightor will be able to stop us!"

Rogg speaks the truth, Tor thought. His heart sank as he listened to the Stone Men lay out their plans for their next raid. Even if he did manage to escape, the club he needed to transform himself into Mightor lay somewhere in the clearing a day's journey away. He'd never make it that far before these skilled warriors tracked him down. Frustration overwhelmed him at the thought that, without Mightor, those people would be helpless against the Stone Men's raids.

Rogg suddenly raised his hand for silence; he'd realized that Tor was listening. He stood and approached slowly, his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted in a threatening scowl. Tor braced himself for the blow that was about to come from one of those massive fists. But Rogg didn't strike him, just studied him for a long moment.

"I remember you." Rogg finally spoke. "You're from Mightor's village. Twice I captured you, twice you escaped."

"And I'll escape a third time!" Tor said defiantly.

Rogg tilted back his head and laughed. "You won't find the Stone Men so easy to escape from this time! Korga!" He waved his hand in dismissal. "Get them out of here. We can't talk with them listening to every word we say. Take them to the pen, then return to me."

Korga grabbed the woman's arm and gave Tor a rough shove toward the doorway.

"Move!" he shouted, pushing them out into the darkness.

They walked past the glowing doorways of the huts. From them came the loud laughter of people still enjoying their suppers. Tor thought he'd be almost glad to get to the pen. His head spun and his feet dragged with weariness. He'd be glad to finally sit down and rest.

The pen was well beyond the village. Tor smelled it before he saw it and understood why it had been set up so far away from the Stone Men's homes. Not far from the pen loomed the sinister framework of the stone dragon, waiting to be brought to life so it could swallow up more slaves. It was bigger than the ones Mightor had destroyed. On its massive stone wheels, powered by slaves on a treadmill, the stone dragon could travel long distances in a short time. Once it was covered with its stone armor, no hunters' spears would be able to penetrate it. No village, anywhere, would be safe.

"New slave," Korga grunted to the Stone Man who stood guard. "Hey--hand me me your knife." The guard tossed it to him and Korga used the flint blade to slice carelessly through Tor's bonds, gashing his arm in the process. Tor barely noticed it in his relief at finally having his arms free. The guard opened the gate and Korga shoved them inside.

The gate slammed shut behind them. "See you in the morning!" Korga hurled the taunt over his shoulder as he strutted back toward the village.

Tor tried to rub the life back into his arms while he looked around the pen. Dozens of hungry, overworked slaves looked listlessly back at him from where they were sitting or lying--in the dirt, he noticed angrily, with not so much as a grass mat between them and the cold ground. To his horror he saw that some were barely Li'l Rok's age. Few of the slaves wore clothing that was much more than filthy rags, and the air was foul with the odor of people who were allowed no water for bathing. If only he had his club! Perhaps he could escape under the cover of darkness. It would be daylight before he was missed and by then he would surely have reached the clearing and his club. But even in the darkness he could see that the pen was strongly built, with its only gate guarded by the alert Stone Man who held his massive stone-spiked club ready in his hand.

Perhaps tomorrow, when the slaves were let out of the pen to work on the stone dragon, he would find his chance. There was no shelter from the elements anywhere in the pen and the breeze that blew through the bars was chilly. Wearing only a loincloth and used to the jungle's heat, Tor began to shiver violently. The garment the woman wore didn't give her much more protection from the cold. She wrapped her arms around her emaciated body in a futile effort to warm herself and Tor wished he had a cape that he could offer her. "Try to sleep," she advised him through chattering teeth. "They wake us up before sunrise."

Shivering, Tor stretched out on the hard packed dirt. "Sheera," his soul whispered yearningly. Would he ever hold her in his arms again? An image of her shimmered in his tired mind as he dozed, an image of her as a child with long red braids and a sweet freckled face. He'd loved her even then. She was cradling Li'l Rok in her arms and singing one of the pretty songs she was always making up. Songbird, that's what her mother had called her. The image shifted and now Tor saw her sitting beside him as they listened eagerly to one of his father's stories. Sometimes, during a scary one, she'd clutch his arm tightly. How she'd loved his father's stories! He wrestled with the memories, trying to push them back before they got painful. But tonight his mind was too tired to keep them from flooding in.....

"Sheera! They're taking children!" Tor shouted above the sounds of the battle that raged around him. The few men who'd been left by the hunters to guard the village were getting the worst of it. "We have to get out of here!"

Sheera looked up at him, clutching Li'l Rok in her arms and sobbing hysterically. "They took Mother! The Stone Men took Mother!"

"I know." His heart ached for her loss, but he shook her shoulder firmly. "Sheera, this isn't the time. Please, get up before they see us!"

"Mother--" she moaned, rocking back and forth.

Tor tried to pull her to her feet but she was a dead weight. "Stop it, Sheera! They're taking babies too! Think of your brother! Do you want them to take him away from you?"

The fear that a Stone Man would snatch her baby brother from her arms seemed to snap her out of the worst of her grief. She allowed Tor to pull her up. He took her hand, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how. Weeping, she clutched his hand tightly.

They slipped into the jungle, followed by a handful of girls, each with a baby brother or sister on her hip. Overhead, thunder rolled and lightning flashed in the rapidly blackening sky. Please don't let it rain, Tor pleaded silently. If rain washed out the Stone Men's trail the hunters would never be able to track them. As if deliberately ignoring Tor's plea, the rain began to patter on the leaves, picking up quickly as they walked. They reached the boys' secret cave in a roaring downpour. Tor looked around at the boys and girls to figure out who was missing.

"Tane and everyone else with him got captured," a wide-eyed, terrified boy told Tor. "I saw it happen, me and my group just barely got away--"

"Who was with him, Drus?"

Drus stammered out names. Tor counted them on his fingers. Those boys...his friends with whom he'd played and explored the jungle...gone! He drew in a deep breath, trying to stop his trembling.

The boys crouched at the mouth of the cave, their spears held ready for battle. Tor could feel his heart hammering in his chest and hoped the other boys wouldn't hear it and think he was cowardly. He was afraid, not for himself but for the helpless girls who huddled behind him. They would be doomed to a life of endless toil, a life of starvation and beatings, if the Stone Men got hold of them. The rain drummed down, and the thunder boomed in his ears along with his heartbeat. Behind him were the soft sounds of girls soothing frightened babies.

"They must be gone by now," someone whispered after a while.

"Who's going back there to check?"

"I'll go," Tor volunteered. As soon as he was out of the cave, he was soaking wet. The driving rain pelted his body. Water streamed from his hair into his eyes, down his face, down his bare chest and back. His feet sloshed through the puddles that had started to form on the ground. He raised one hand to wipe the rain out of his eyes. Overhead, lightning streaked through the sky and split a large tree down the middle. It fell with a loud crash, bringing other trees with it. Startled, Tor froze for a moment, then splashed onward toward the village. The empty village ahead of him was in ruins. He thought he heard something and strained to hear over the rain. There it was again. A woman's voice raised in mourning. His mother's voice! Suddenly afraid, he broke into a run. Father! He must have been captured by the Stone Men!

His mother knelt in the water and mud, arms raised toward the sky, wailing her grief to the wind and rain. Rain mingled with the tears on her upturned, imploring face. It was then that Tor noticed the still figure lying at her knees. It was a man. Tor stared down at him. An arrow protruded from his chest. Rain pounded on his lifeless face and soaked his heavy black beard. The warm brown eyes were closed. The voice that had once told such wonderful stories was silenced. Forever. A great emptiness settled in Tor's soul and he sank to his knees beside his mother.

"Father," he whispered....

He sat up, trembling and drenched in a cold sweat, the word "Father" still on his lips. Pondo and the hunters, he remembered, had returned after several days to a cold, washed out trail that was impossible to follow. The captured villagers were never found, eventually given up for dead. How quickly he and Sheera had grown up after the raid; he providing for his mother and himself, and Sheera taking care of her baby brother. But Sheera had the harder job, trying to replace the mother that Li'l Rok would never know. Her pretty songs had been silenced as completely as his father's stories. Try as he might, he had not been able to bring them back. Was it sweat that stung his eyes--or tears? He couldn't tell. How many more children would lose a beloved father or mother as he and Sheera had, now that Mightor was powerless to protect them? Heartsick and shivering, he wrapped his arms across his chest and lay back down. This time he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, mercifully free of dreams or memories.

Tor licked his dry lips and swallowed, trying to moisten his parched throat. It seemed like forever since the water-bearers had made their rounds. He looked at the sky, glad to see how close the sun was to the horizon. Soon the sky would blaze with reds and oranges, then darken as the sun disappeared completely and finally, this hard day would be over. They would be given more water at the end of the day, the red haired woman had told him. Food, too--but only if Rogg was pleased with their day's work. After working all day in the hot sun, Tor craved water more than food, and the rushing sound of the river made him lick his lips again.

The throbbing welts the Stone Men's whips had left on his back reminded him to get back to work. He strained against the stone-laden cart, sweat streaming from his exhausted body, but the cart still wouldn't budge. "Again!" he shouted. He and the red-haired woman braced their feet against the rocky ground and pushed with all their might while the women in front pulled. The cart lurched over a rut and began to move again. It was hard work, much too hard for the women but still easier than cutting the sheets of stone or raising them to cover the dragon's sides.

Men unloaded the cart quickly then raced to unload the next cart that pulled up, with Korga's whip cracking impatiently all the while. The cart's stone wheels rumbled over the stony, uneven ground as Tor and the women pushed it back in the direction from which they'd come. He glanced at the red-haired woman next to him, realizing that he still didn't know her name. "My name is Tor," he

told her.

"Tor." The woman smiled dreamily, as if the name brought back a pleasant memory. "My daughter's best friend's name was Tor. He was the son of our village's storyteller."

His father had been the Cave People's storyteller. Surprised by the coincidence, Tor wiped sweat from his eyes and glanced at her. He was eager to hear more about her people.

"You'll never see your village or your people again. So why bother speaking of them?" one of the women spoke up. From working with her all day, Tor knew her as a sharp-tongued complainer.

"The memories of my family are all I have left. How else would I survive in this place?" The red haired woman appealed to Tor. "Is it so wrong, to think and speak of them?"

He was about to reply when the snapping of a whip reminded him that they'd reached their destination. The sweating men reloaded their cart, laboring under the weight of the stone sheets. "Hurry up! Move that cart out of here!" the Stone Man screamed, swinging his whip. Tor struggled to push the heavy cart, with his muscles straining and the lash cutting painfully into his back. Had the men put in more stone than before or was it his exhaustion that made the cart seem so much heavier? He could see the toll that the back-breaking work was taking on the women, too, although only the sharp-tongued one complained.

Rogg was at the stone dragon, clutching an obviously terrified woman by the arm. He must have chosen her to prepare his supper, Tor thought, remembering the red haired woman's work the night before. Nobody moved, even Korga's whip lay still as the chief examined the dragon. He walked around it slowly, with the woman in his grasp following behind him, then stopped and looked the slaves over. The slaves stood straight and tall under Rogg's glare, with only their pale faces betraying their fear of him.

"Lazy, worthless slaves!" Rogg's broken, rotted teeth showed themselves in his cruel sneer. "The stone dragon should have been finished long ago! All you do is lounge around and waste time! Well, I'll cure your laziness!" He spat contemptuously on the ground. "The stone dragon WILL be finished! You will continue working, with no food or water, all this night and all the following day. All night again, if necessary, until it is finished!"

Throughout that long, hard day Tor had not felt so hungry, so thirsty, so exhausted as he felt at that moment. He saw how his companions struggled, as he did, to hide their dismay over Rogg's order. How long could any of them continue this hard labor, he wondered, with no water, no rest, no food?

"Well? Back to work, lazy ones!" Rogg shouted.

"You heard him! Back to work!" Korga's whip began to crack again as the men raced to unload the stone. Rogg stayed to watch the unloading of the first cart, then he turned back toward the village, dragging the unwilling woman along behind him.           

Even empty, the cart seemed impossibly heavy. They struggled to take each step toward where, once again, they would have to turn and struggle their way back to Rogg's dragon with an unmanageable weight of stone. The red haired woman stumbled and Tor reached out his arm to steady her. What had she asked him earlier? Yes, now he remembered. "You can tell me of your family if you'd like--really, I'd like to hear about them--unless--it hurts you to speak of them."

"It does hurt, so much, to think of my husband, and my son and daughter, knowing I'll never see them again." she admitted. "But to forget them would hurt so much more." Her voice shook. Tor saw the pain in her eyes and wondered if he'd been wrong, after all, to urge her to speak of her family. But she spoke again, her voice soft and steady this time. "Sheera--that's my daughter--oh, she's probably forgotten me, she was so young when I was taken. And Li'l Rok was just a baby. He never had a chance to know me."

Tor had skidded to a halt at the mention of Sheera's name and now his mouth dropped open in disbelief. No....it couldn't be! It was impossible! "M-Mara?" he stammered, incredulously. How long had it been? The Stone Men had come to his village early in his twelfth year. He was well into his nineteenth year now. How had she ever survived the Stone Men's cruelty for that long? "Chief Pondo's wife.....of the Cave People's village?"

Now she was staring open-mouthed at him, and as he looked at the woman he'd thought was long dead, her green eyes--how had he not noticed that she had Sheera's eyes?--brimmed over with tears.

They pushed the cart in silence. Not even the sharp-tongued woman ventured to open her mouth. Tor listened to Mara's soft weeping and struggled against the emotions that threatened to overcome him. How was it she'd been left in this evil place for so long? Why had nobody ever found her? Why had Mightor never found her? Because Mara had not been among the groups of captives he'd freed after his battles with the Stone Men. Because he'd believed she was dead. Because no slave of the Stone Men survived more than a year or two. That was why he'd never made the effort to find this village, to make sure she actually was dead.

Tor's heart wrenched painfully. He should have made sure! He should have looked for her! He should have found this village! To his horror he realized that tears were streaming down his own cheeks. Ashamed, he quickly dashed his hand across his face, hoping the others would think he was wiping away sweat.

He looked remorsefully at the once beautiful wife of his village's chief. Never, as long as he lived, would he be able to make amends to her. He could never undo the year after year she'd been trapped--forgotten--in this terrible place. Never again would she cradle baby Li'l Rok in her arms, nor teach young Sheera the skills she'd need for womanhood. If only he could restore even one moment of the time that had been stolen from her! He was unworthy to own the power club. Unworthy of being Mightor, the village champion.

A sudden gust of wind chilled his sweat-soaked body and distracted him from his self-loathing. He was surprised to see that the daylight had faded completely to darkness. Anger replaced his despair. How foolish he was to waste time mourning what was over and done with! No, he'd never be able to take back what he'd done to Mara. But he could prevent her--and the others--from suffering one more day as Rogg's slaves!

"Are there any villages nearby where someone could go for help--that is--if he escaped from here?" Tor asked Mara.

Hope flickered brightly in her eyes; just as quickly, it was extinguished. "Only the Cliff Dwellers. But they're allies of the Stone Men."

"They'd sell you right back to Rogg in exchange for a couple of spearheads", the sharp-tongued woman put in.

"You're mad if you think you'll escape from here," another woman told him. "Nobody ever has."

"Hush!" Mara warned. They were nearing the spot where their cart would, once again, be loaded with stone.

Nobody spoke again. Talking dried the throat and stole strength needed to push the heavy cart. A wave of dizziness washed over Tor and he gripped the cart for support. He knew he had to make his escape soon, before he was overcome by exhaustion. It was a perfect time to do it--the guard who supervised the cart loadings had just been replaced. Now, if only Korga... Tor's heart sank when he saw that the big Stone Man was still at his post. It was no use thinking of escape now. Korga would notice him missing in an instant. As they approached, Tor clenched his teeth against the lash that would once again cut into his bleeding back. But no, Korga wasn't even looking at them, he was looking toward a slowly approaching torch.

"It's about time you got here, slowpoke!" Korga snapped in the direction of the torch. "Where have you been? You should have been here long ago!"

The torch's carrier responded with words that Tor had never heard used in front of women. His face burned with embarassment for his companions. The two men exhanged insults back and forth while the slaves unloaded the cart. Tor glanced behind him as they pushed the cart away. The new guard was still turned away from them, hurling curses at Korga's retreating back.

"Come with me, Mara", Tor whispered.

"What?"

"It's our chance. Nobody will see us in the dark, and that new guard won't even notice we're missing."

"No." Mara told him firmly. "I'd only slow you down."

Tor reached for her arm but she pulled away from him. He sighed. He'd seen that same stubborn look many times on her daughter's face.

"And be careful."

His heart soared at the sound of hope that had returned to her voice. He must not let her down. "Help will come soon," he promised. He'd keep that promise, or die trying. With one last look at her, he dropped to the ground behind the cart.

The night was black, the thin moon gave no light. That worked in his favor, Tor thought as he inched along on his belly. He glanced behind him to see the progress the cart was making. When it got to where the stone would be loaded into it, would the guard notice his absence? Best not to even think of it. The riverbank dropped steeply in front of him. He slid down it, making as little noise as he could. Now that he was so close to the river, the smell of water was much too powerful to resist. Tor scooped up a brimming handful and drank greedily, conscious only of his need to quench his burning thirst. A distant voice--a guard's angry shout perhaps--jolted him back to his situation. He wiped his dripping mouth on the back of his hand and studied the river.

Should he walk in the water? No, Tor thought, trying to focus his tired mind. That trick would never fool Rogg's warriors. How far would he even get before they were on his trail? His only chance was to have this village far behind him before that happened. He'd travel much faster if his body were fed and rested, but he would not waste precious time. Not with Mara and the other slaves depending on him. Tor glanced again at the river that flowed swiftly past him, the waters racing far away from Rogg's village. If only he could travel as swiftly! But.....he could. He grinned as the most reckless idea he'd ever had entered his mind. It would be dangerous--the water was cold and the current strong. But he was a good swimmer and what he had planned was probably reckless enough that the Stone Men would never think of it. With a final glance in the direction of the Stone Men's village, Tor waded out into the river. Even this close to shore the current dragged fiercely at him, and the water was much colder than he'd expected. Hopefully, he wouldn't be in it for very long. He stopped in hip-deep water, took a deep breath, and dove forward.

When he surfaced, gasping for breath, he was already well past the village. The shadows of trees on the riverbank seemed to speed past him. The current was dragging him toward the middle of the river where it was strongest. He struck out toward shore, but quickly realized he was too exhausted to do anything but allow the current to carry him where it wanted. A wave slapped him in the face and filled his mouth with water. Choking, he tried to keep his head above the raging current.. Something bumped against him--a dead log that had been pulled loose farther upstream--and he instinctively grabbed onto it. A loud roaring filled his ears; he'd reached the place where the two rivers joined together. With all his might he clung to the log as he sped toward the white waters, but the swirling current dragged it out of his grasp. The frothing water sucked him under and, suddenly panicked, he struggled toward the surface. He breathed deeply, desperate for air, but cold water filled his lungs instead. Coughing and gasping, he slipped beneath the surface again, taking in even more water. It was becoming a losing battle keeping his head above the surface. His arms and legs were numb from the cold water and his body felt heavy with exhaustion. Too heavy. The waters closed over his head and a black haze began to fall before his eyes.....

Something grasped his arm. He slipped out of its grasp and, once more, sank beneath the surface. The something--a clawed hand--came down after him and wrapped itself firmly around his wrist. Tor grabbed out with his other hand and held on desperately. He felt himself being lifted up, up into the air. Suddenly--miraculously--his feet touched solid ground. The hand let go of him and he sank to his hands and knees, his stomach heaving. It seemed to him that he'd swallowed most of the river. All the while he was conscious of something licking his neck and cheek, and of a loud whimpering in his ear. When he finally stopped retching, Tor collapsed onto his side. "Tog!" He reached up to touch the worried face that hovered above him. "Thanks Tog. I don't know how you found me, but I'm glad you did."

The jungle swirled around him and the river sang in his ears. Above him, the stars twinkled in the black sky. Tor dozed, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. All he wanted was to let the velvety darkness wrap its arms around him. But something kept nudging his shoulder insistently. He forced his eyes open. Tog was standing over him. His power club was clutched firmly between the dragon's teeth. Tor took the club in his hand and forced himself to his feet. His legs felt rubbery, and for a moment, he thought he was going to collapse onto his hands and knees again. He summoned all his will to remain on his feet and raised the club above his head.

"Mightor!"

The glow of torchlight, the sound of whips snapping, and the shout of curses added to the evil aura that hung over the Stone Men's village. Below him, Mightor could see the exhausted slaves struggling with their tasks. More guards had been added, he noticed. The route the slaves took from picking up the stone sheets to bringing them to the dragon was lined with torches. He and Tog flew downward, ready for battle.

A cry of alarm rose from the guards. It was joined by other cries. A circle of torchlight formed directly below. From the distant village, another line of torchlight began to spill out and rapidly advance toward them. A babbling of excited voices was carried on the night wind.

"Looks like we've got a welcoming committee, Tog," Mightor said to the dragon. "Let's not disappoint them."

All work came to a halt as Mightor and Tog landed just outside the ring of threatening Stone Men. They stood their ground as the lights from the village drew closer. It looked like the entire village was coming out to greet them. Soon, Mightor could make out the scowling faces and angry eyes of the Stone Men. At the head of the crowd was Korga.

Korga stepped forward. His eyes narrowed menacingly as he brandished his spiked club. "So, you've found our village, Mightor."

"Yes, I found your evil village. And I can see that your slaves need water and food. You will bring it to them--or do battle with me."

Korga smirked. "Rogg gives the orders around here."

Mightor scowled back at the warrior. "Then get him."

"No need to." A familiar voice spoke behind him. "Rogg is here." Slowly and deliberately, Mightor turned to meet the chief's cold gaze.

"So, Mightor. We meet again." Rogg stared at him for a long moment then looked around at the slaves, who had grouped themselves near Mightor and Tog. "You lazy slaves!" he shouted. "Who told you to stop working?"

"I'm telling them to stop. They have worked far too long for you, Rogg."

"Yes." Rogg's lip curled. "I heard your order." He pointed to several of his warriors. "Bring water and food for the slaves," he told the astonished men. "And be quick about it!"

Mightor glared at Rogg suspiciously. It had been much too easy. The chief had to be up to something. Something that would be no good. It wasn't like him to give in without a fight.

"And now it is your turn to do something for me." Rogg sneered. "Rogg does no favors for anyone. It seems you don't want my lazy slaves to finish their work. Very well. You will take their place. I want the stone dragon finished by sunrise, and you are to do a good job on it. Otherwise the slaves will return to their labors, and I will work them twice as hard as I did before you intruded on my village."

The thought horrified Mightor. Build evil Rogg's stone dragon, which would be used to attack other villages and gather more slaves? He looked at the exhausted people who stood around him. They wouldn't last much longer; he could see that some of them were on the verge of collapsing. There really was no other choice. He turned toward one of the loaded carts and, ignoring the snickering Stone Men, began to push it toward the dragon.

He was surprised by the amount of work the slaves had already done on the dragon. How had they managed, in their weariness, to get so much done? The stone plates, like the one he now held in his hands, were placed together over the wooden framework and bonded together with mortar. Mightor fit the stone sheet against the adjoining plate and aimed his club. A stream of flame burst against the dragon and melted the edges of the stone together. He pulled another sheet from the cart.

"Get these slaves back in the pen," Rogg ordered. "And keep an eye on him!"

He pointed at Mightor.

Soon the cart was empty, and Mightor returned for another one that had been left behind. The work took no physical effort, but the knowledge of what he was doing sickened him. All he wanted to do was to lift the dragon over his head and hurl it into the river. With Rogg and his warriors inside it. He pushed the emptied cart toward the place where the stone was cut. Some cutting tools had been left behind but he ignored them. With a beam of light from his club he easily peeled off sheet after sheet of stone and had the cart full in no time. He wondered which village would be the first to be raided. Would they return for a second raid on the Valley People's village? Or maybe it would be the Cave People's village. He had to have the stone dragon finished by sunrise, otherwise Rogg's slaves would suffer for his failure. On into the night he worked.

Birds were announcing the approach of dawn when the dragon was finally finished. Korga swaggered around it as if he'd built it himself, inspecting every seam and grinning broadly. He turned to his warriors. "Let's try it out! Everyone inside! Attack Mightor! Destroy him!" At Korga's challenge, the shouting warriors surged toward the dragon, each one eager to be the first one inside. So, they wanted a fight, did they? Mightor felt his muscles tense with anticipation. Well, a fight was what they would get! But.....no....he had a better idea.

Mightor aimed his club at the stone dragon. A beam of light welded the door shut. He effortlessly lifted the dragon over his head. Through the wooden floor he could hear voices cursing and feet scrabbling for balance.

Now he would take these warriors where they could bring no harm to anybody ever again.

"Very clever, Mightor," came Rogg's voice behind him. "But I don't think you should do that. I have someone here you may be interested in."

Mightor set the dragon down and turned to face Rogg. To his horror, he saw Mara struggling in the chief's grasp.

"I think you know who this is." Rogg smirked. Slowly, he raised his flint knife and held it against Mara's throat. "Yessss....you do know who this is."

"Let her go. She's done nothing to you."

"The lovely wife of your Chief Pondo. I wondered when you would come looking for her. I've enjoyed her company. She's a good cook, cleans my hut well, and she's one of the hardest workers I've got. She's always been very eager to do my bidding."

Anger churned inside Mightor, and his fist tightened around his club. "As if she had a choice!"

"But I knew, eventually, you would come for her." Rogg grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. "And that by possessing her, I could bring you under my power." The grin left his face. "You're my slave now, Mightor. You will let my men out of the stone dragon and take their place. Your first stop will be your village. You will take all the villagers captive, starting with Pondo's daughter."

Mightor pointed his club at Rogg. Rogg drew his knife closer to Mara's throat. Mara's eyes were wide with terror. "Drop the club," Rogg growled threateningly. "Now, or the woman dies!"

Slowly, Mightor lowered his arm and let his club fall to the ground. From the sky, Tog streaked toward Rogg and Mara. A burst of fire shot from his mouth and engulfed Rogg's feet. With a bellow of pain, the enraged Stone Man released Mara and beat furiously at the flames that were beginning to climb up his legs.

Mightor sprang forward and grabbed Rogg's tunic. With a twist of his arm he sent the chief staggering toward the door of the stone dragon.

"What do you think you're going to do with me now?" Rogg challenged.

"I'm going to take you and your warriors on a long journey," Mightor replied, yanking the door open. He gave Rogg a shove and the Stone Man sprawled in the doorway. "I'm going to take you someplace where you'll never be a threat to any villagers again."

"I'll be back, Mightor," Rogg promised. "You just wait and see. I'll be back."

"Not this time, Rogg." Mightor slammed the door in Rogg's angry face.

Mightor flew above the jungle with Mara in his arms. A day of sleep and the supper he'd prepared for her had visibly refreshed her. The emptiness in her eyes had been replaced by anticipation, a new hope and--yes, he could see a little worry. Did she still think that she'd been forgotten, after all her years as a prisoner of the Stone Men? He'd done his best to convince her that she hadn't. Soon enough, her worries would be laid to rest.

Soon, his work would be finished. He'd certainly been kept busy, returning each of the slaves to his or her village. As for the Stone Men....He chuckled. Mara was looking at him curiously. "I was wondering," he explained, "how Rogg and his warriors like their new home."

The mention of Rogg's name made her shudder. In his arms she felt pathetically light and fragile. Would she ever be able to forget the cruelty she'd endured? Or would she live the rest of her life in fear that her captors might return for her? "Don't worry," he reassured her, "they will not return. I've made sure of that." The pounding surf and jagged reef that surrounded the Stone Men's new island home would hold them there forever. He flew onward with Tog at his side, getting closer and closer to home. "It's not much farther to your village," he told her.

Below, a mammoth trumpeted. It was a young one, he noticed. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd swear it was Bolo. The mammoth trumpeted again, insistently. That was Bolo. "Father," Sheera's voice followed. "I think Bolo's found something."

Mightor flew downward to investigate. There was Bolo, with Sheera seated on his back, by the river searching the ground with his trunk. Pondo, surrounded by a party of the Cave People's hunters, was stooped down beside the young mammoth.

"Yes," Pondo said, "here is where they came out of the river. Sheera, when morning comes, you will return to the village with Bolo. We'll be able to track them from here."

"Who is it you are looking for?" Mightor asked.

Pondo turned. Relief flooded his bearded face. "Mightor, am I glad you're here! A young man from our village was taken by the Stone Men. We have just picked up their trail."

"Tor is safe and the Stone Men will bother you no more," Mightor told him.

"Who is with you?" Pondo wanted to know. He stepped forward for a closer look.

Mightor realized he was still holding Mara and set her down gently. How would he tell them? Pondo and Sheera would be so shocked when they learned that the wife and mother they'd thought was long dead was now standing right here in front of them. What could he possibly do to soften the shock they would feel?

Pondo stared for several moments. Mara stared back at him, trembling visibly. Suddenly, Pondo's dark brown eyes widened in recognition. For a long moment, the chief stood, unable to move. "Mara." He held his hand out to her. She looked back at him, also frozen to the ground. Mightor could see that she was afraid to approach her husband. Afraid that maybe, after all these years, Pondo no longer loved her. But couldn't she tell by her husband's eyes how wrong she was? The look of fear and yearning on her face was heartbreaking. "Go to him, Mara." Gently, Mightor pushed her toward Pondo. They stood and stared at each other for a long moment then Pondo reached out and touched her face.

"Mara...you're alive...how can it be--" His voice broke.

"Pondo." Mara touched his hair, stroked his cheek and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, Pondo--I never dreamed I'd see you again!"

Pondo put his arms around her and pulled her close. As their lips met, Mightor slipped unnoticed back into the jungle.

When Tor returned, Sheera was embracing Mara. Pondo's arms were around them both. Tor's own arms ached to wrap themselves around Sheera. As badly as he longed to go to her, he didn't want to intrude so he joined the group of silent hunters who were doing their best not to stare at the reunited family.

Mara nudged Sheera, spoke to her and pointed toward Tor. Sheera dashed over to him, her face wet with tears. With a few strides, Tor met her and caught her up in his arms. The warmth of her body and the scent of her hair made him realize just how much he'd missed her. Her kiss told him that she'd missed him just as much.

"Tor--I can hardly believe it's true! Mother's alive, she's back with us, thanks to--Mightor," Sheera remembered to say, just in time. "But--look how thin she is--look at her face! Why were they so cruel to her?" She began to sob.

"Don't cry, Sheera. She's safe now," Tor promised, kissing Sheera's forehead. "We'll take good care of her. She's strong. Soon she'll be back to her old self." He rubbed her back until her sobs quieted.

Sheera pulled back and looked at him, really noticing him for the first time. Her wet eyes softened with love and concern. "I can see that you weren't treated very well, either." A tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'll tell you all about it." Tor brushed the tear away. "But not right now." The last thing he wanted to do was to make her start crying again.

"Everybody listen to me!" Pondo shouted as he lifted Mara in his arms and placed her on Bolo's back. "Let us return to our village! We'll prepare a feast and celebrate like we've never celebrated before!"

The hunters gathered up their packs and began to follow Pondo and Mara at a respectful distance. Sheera tried to join her parents but Tor put his arm around her and held her at his side. "Let him have her to himself tonight," he told her. "They've been apart for a long time."

"I know. Now Father won't be lonely anymore. But," she added wistfully, "I wish he knew that it was you who brought her back to us."

Tor shook his head. "That doesn't matter to me, Sheera," he said, stroking her hair. "All I care about is that your family is together, and that you're happy."

As they followed the hunters through the darkening jungle, with Tog gliding along overhead, Sheera slipped her hand into Tor's and began to sing softly.