Water Damage

The condo above mine has been undergoing renovations for the past eight months.

It has seemed even longer than that. The noise alone and the constant disruptions in a house built in 1896 have been excruciating enough.

A week and a half ago I noticed stains on the ceiling in my bathroom. Two days later yet another stain appeared. I reported these to the new owner who has had all of these alterations made, to let him know that water is leaking down from above.

How does all of this affect the Rainbow Arc of Fire?

About a week ago, while searching in a storage area just below my bathroom (and further below the kitchen in the condo on the top floor of the house where the leak first occurred), I noticed the tell-tale sign of even more water that had doused some cardboard boxes where I had stored items that I had saved over the years.

As I began to explore further, I discovered that several cardboard boxes, and their contents, were almost entirely soaked.

At least two of the boxes contained full manuscripts and revision copies of sections of RAoF manuscripts. They were all damp and effectively ruined.

Another box contained copies of magazines and newspapers where RAoF was mentioned over the years, including a full interview with me in one OUT FRONT COLORADO publication. Many were fully ruined and could not be salvaged. I was able to recover a few issues with that interview that weren't so water logged and lay them in the warm sunlight to dry them out.

I also lost many stacks of booklets containing my journals that I had kept, and written in, by hand, from the very late 60's until the early 80's. Several were severely soaked and totally ruined.

Fortunately, I was able to salvage the typed manuscript of those journals from the 70's that I had typed in 1990. I also saved a box containing the typed manuscript of Sons of Men, my poetry that was originally written in those same journals, along with my thoughts at the time the journals were composed. There was also a box containing a manuscript of letters I had written and typed about two decades ago.

All of my Air Force missile certificates were damaged to one degree or another by water. I lay them in the hot sun to dry them out. Many were from my years as a Combat Crew deputy and commander in Minot, North Dakota, from 1974 through 1978. I had received seven highly qualified ratings during missile crew member evaluations over that time. The box containing my Air Force commendation medal was also stained and dirty. My two ancient stuffed animals, the first of which I received on my first Christmas in 1949, the second which I had gotten in an early birthday, my seventh, I believe, were also wet.

Several boxes of color slides from the late 60's through the early 80's were also slightly or moderately soaked.

This was the second time that items from my past were damaged in that storage area after being safe there for years. About a year or so ago, most of my military-era memorabilia from Marine OCS and the Air Force was soaked from a different leak. I had to throw away much from my past then. The rest I dried out in time and then put them into a more protective plastic storage container. I should have gotten other containers to protect what had been spared that first time.

That first leak was almost exactly 30 years after my forced resignation from the Air Force. So, while I had had no intention in 2009 of recalling that sorrowful time and those disappointing events, fate forced me otherwise to relive those months and years upon that 30th anniversary. I had to pull apart everything that was wet and hope it dried out. What was ruined, I had to pitch.

Not only do such experiences such as water damage force us to realize our own mortality, they also demand that we understand how fragile the existence of our personal effects can be. When we are gone, who is going to care about manuscript copies of even a writer's books? We become like Charles Foster Kane, whose precious sled is consigned to the fires by unknowing workers, asked to destroy what seems unnecessary or uninteresting among the thousands of items he'd collected over the decades of his significant life.

Those of us who are far from significant cannot expect that those personal effects we once treasured will endure after we are gone. I suppose it is easier to simply pitch them out ourselves at times such as these when the elements such as water, or fire, make their way through these precious objects before we can no longer prevent such losses after we are gone.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Olive Branch

Even with the title, this one was also filled with fight sequences. The following does, of course, contain much spoiler information, so be forewarned.

Chapter Twenty-nine

A moment earlier, Mercuria spots a vessel ahead, low on the horizon in the early morning darkness, silhouetted against the fading star field background. She rips through extensive ruins, gutted buildings, and burned out vehicles that litter this hotly contested region, sprinting to catch up to the unknown ship before it moves off.

She feels her leg muscles almost burning with the increased effort to push herself beyond her limits, to become even fractionally faster, to reach the target ship before it moves off. Mercuria notes that the vessel seems preoccupied with its mission of disarmament and does not seem to notice her sudden arrival as she streaks across the landscape as barely a blur, toward the still unwary ship.

When she is near enough, she times her leap perfectly. Planting both feet and then pushing off with a powerful double-leg kick like a track athlete attempting a very long, long jump, she mentally activates the flight properties of her shield belt at the split second her feet leave solid ground. This added thrust allows her to soar aloft with increased speed, directly at the ship that looks all too familiar to her now, up close.

Pulling her legs up under her as she begins to sail above the vessel, she waves her arms and feet to slow her momentum until she hovers over the white fuselage. She then begins pummeling the top of the hull with rapid thrusts of her stamping feet, as if she were dancing in place, to force the vessel downward.

The uncooperative ship, however, does a complete flip--to topple her off--then kicks into high gear and is gone, leaving the still airborne woman floundering in its wake. Frustrated, she knows that even if she were able to reach the ground as fast as the flight belt can take her, and if she then rapidly pursued from the ground, she would never be able to catch up since it already has too great a lead. While she may be nearly as fast as any Alliance ship within an atmosphere, she is definitely no faster.

With silent acceptance that her impromptu ploy could not have succeeded, and knowing now what kind of ship she was tangling with, she simply allows the versatile belt to drop her straight down to earth like an elevator whose cables have suddenly snapped. When she reaches the ground, she activates the homing device in her belt, to let the others know where to rendezvous with her. She then patiently stands in place and awaits their arrival.

She hasn’t long to remain in place before the cruisers Asgard and Mount Olympus II, as well as the scout ships Condor, with Harvest and Pulse aboard; Griffin, carrying her partner, Liquide; and Valkyrie, with Firefrost and Enchantra, to silently begin hovering around her like pigeons in a park, or vultures over a corpse. Then, almost in unison, all five ships immediately land nearby.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Shattered Dawn

This was another volume in the series with a number of different, and complex, fight sequences:

Chapter Eight

Before any of them can react, Liquid Lord raises his hands and strong blasts of water emanate from each like the focused spray of a powerful fire hose, knocking them down or aside and soaking them all thoroughly.

As she is being tossed backward, Cleo, who has selected the name Haunt because she can become either invisible or a phantom, immediately switches to this latter state. She feels her backward momentum quickly slow as she watches the powerful water blasts now pass harmlessly through her ethereal form. But in doing so, she realizes that she has thereby taken herself out of the conflict, at least for the moment.

On the other hand, Jane, who chose the name Redwood, knows that she cannot utilize her ability to grow enormously or shrink since she could easily injure someone nearby, or injure herself, by changing size in all of the confusion. She cannot see where the others are since they are all under assault, and the intensity of the deluge continues to stagger and blind her.

Paul quickly recovers and exerts his awesome power over water. He feels the intensity of the moisture but begins to divert the relentless flow around his body by seizing the very molecules and manipulating them, though he knows this requires that he fully focus his thoughts and attention. Therefore, he is unable to go on the attack for the time being.

Joan tries to channel her thoughts, to divert the water by causing the spray coming at them to become lighter than air; but since Liquid Lord continues to bombard them all, she sees that she is merely holding her own, for now.

William recognizes that he cannot utilize his lighting or electrical powers since he and his teammates are all being doused with water and are also touching the ground. Any number of them might become electrocuted or dangerously shocked if he were to try. He also realizes that his magnetic powers are useless at the moment since neither Liquid Lord nor Mercuria appears to be wearing anything metallic that he might attract or repel, so he merely tries to crawl out of the path of the intense water pressure.

Greg attempts to focus his abilities, to create illusions that will confuse their two foes; but he is having a difficult time concentrating as the blasts severely disorient him.

Joseph and Marina have the best chance to launch a counter assault since they were standing at the periphery of the group; but as Harvest’s thoughts begin to reach out and manipulate the grass around Liquid Lord’s feet, he is suddenly spun around and around by some force that he can barely see because it moves so swiftly. He soon falls to the ground, dazed.

Firefrost raises a hand to blast Liquid Lord with strong light, but she stares in amazement as the bright beams slowly ooze from her fingers as if they were being projected in slow motion. She certainly feels her incredible abilities flowing forth from her hands, but she cannot seem to increase the intensity of those beams of light. Suddenly, she, too, is spun about and made to feel so dizzy that she wants to vomit.

With the others sorely pressed, Elemancer seizes the ground underneath himself with his manipulative thoughts and begins to create a tunnel with his powers over earth, to strike their foe by surprise and from beneath. He rejoices as the soil leaps up and outward as his abilities force the very dirt to do his bidding. Though he has utilized his powers on so many previous occasions, he still feels a sense of exhilaration that what he does is virtually remarkable and that his thoughts can so readily be translated into action by merely concentrating and making it so.

Sensing what his partner is attempting as Elemancer disappears into the ground, Oculus directs his own thoughts to help guide his partner toward Liquid Lord since Mercuria has apparently disappeared from view.

When Elemancer reaches a point beneath their enemy--with his location confirmed by his partner--he suddenly emerges up from out of the ground. However, Liquid Lord blasts aside the dirt and grass and grabs Paul, staring hard into his face while intensifying his own powers. As he struggles to free himself, Paul begins to gasp, wondering what is happening to him because he feels as if he is literally dying of thirst.

During the moment when Liquid Lord focuses his attention upon disabling Paul, Redwood acts quickly to increase her height. As if suddenly liberated, she senses her form expanding upward. She then tries to reach down and grab their fluid adversary, to rescue Elemancer before Liquid Lord notices her; however, she finds that she cannot move at all, cannot force her body to do her bidding.

Paul suddenly passes out, so Liquid Lord tosses his limp body aside, renewing the water barrage directed at the others who are still barely standing.

Fearful for his partner, Greg crawls along the ground to reach Paul, his only concern at the moment because Paul’s thoughts seem almost negligible.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: A House Divided

This novel, to date, had the most fight sequences of all the novels in the series.

Chapter Twenty-nine

A moment later, Dino reaches for a small vial of scented oil on a shelf and pulls off the stopper to take a whiff. He deliberately holds it up to his nose, pretending to innocently ask, "What's this stuff supposed to do?"

"That's Fire Oil," Joan informs him, returning to his side while peering over his shoulder to read the label. "It can heighten one's courage and strength, as well as arouse a person's passionate nature."

"Ahhhhhh!" Dino suddenly screams, first clutching his nose as if it were burning and then his throat as he falls to the floor in a quivering heap. The glass vial drops from his hand and slowly begins to empty onto an ornate rug.

Cleo, toward the back, and Michael, toward the front of the store, whirl around to watch this bizarre spectacle unfold before them, unsure as to what exactly is going on.

"Dino, what are you doing?" Jane demands, leaning over him and realizing that he's probably begun playing out another of his self-indulgent 'scenes,' only this time he has the ability to make it really dramatic—and destructive.

"I'm changing!" Dino pleads in a helpless voice, almost seeming to shake uncontrollably. "I can't stop myself."

Suddenly, his shifting form begins to writhe and squirm about, knocking over a nearby table and dumping the fragile display items all over the floor. Next, he starts to profoundly alter his shape, shouting at Joan, "You've cast a spell on me, you witch!"

"What?" Joan reacts in shock. She wants to go to his aid but involuntarily steps backward because his metamorphosis is so unexpected and bizarre. Profoundly shocked, she wonders what the heck he is talking about and what is happening to him.

Dino's voice now begins to alter as well, from garbled words to a long, low growl. The growl intensifies until it becomes a piercing roar of defiance as he swiftly changes into a ferocious lion, springing up from the floor, while snarling and jawing viciously, and knocking over another table. He then lunges sideways, as if out of control, and topples over a few shelves left and right, spilling even more merchandise everywhere.

Joan backs up even further, eyes wide in disbelief, but is quite prepared to knock this clumsy lion on its furry ass with her power over gravity—or even shove it out the front door with her telekinesis--should it become a direct threat to her.

"You idiot!" Jane yells, furious that Dino would stage a destructive confrontation in Joan's vulnerable shop, where so many beautiful, delicate objects can get permanently shattered.

Now intensely upset with his behavior, Jane begins to expand, growing upward toward the high ceiling while inserting her now-enlarged, as well as highly enraged, form between Joan and the roaring lion.

Joan is even more startled by Jane's stunning transformation as she ducks behind the two glass counters for protection. However, she cannot take her eyes off of the volatile conflict unfolding before her, like watching two cars rapidly losing traction on an icy road and then spinning completely out of control as they inexorably slide at one another.

Crouching by the door, Michael instantly teleports himself out of the shop because he fears for his safety in such a confining space.

Terrified, Cleo dissolves into a phantom and glides past the grappling duo of Jane and Dino, knowing that she is powerless to confront either one of them at this point.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Who Has Dominion?

There were a number of fight sequences in this novel. The following was one of the earliest:

Chapter Forty-seven

The look on William's face the moment the spear tears through his vulnerable body is one of sudden incredulity. He knows in that shocking instant he will not survive. His last thoughts seek to reach out to his beloved one last time, but he fails.

"William!" Joseph screams in anguish as his lover staggers toward him but a half step, the spear sticking clear through his thick torso.

His life gone, however, William's mortal form falls to the ground, the corpse thudding onto the gray dust with a sickening sound, bright blood surging out of the two gaping wounds, from his chest and his back simultaneously.

Everyone else except Joseph dives to the ground as the sky turns almost dark with the formations of arrows and spears that now fly up from far below, as a continuous fleet of death seeks us out.

With the terrified kitten still in my arms, I leap into the spiritual sanctuary excavations nearby, seeking protection by ducking behind the high marble altar while cringing in fear and abject terror. For, unlike the others, I am entirely powerless and unarmed.

Ignoring the peril, Joseph falls to his knees and scoops up William's lifeless body in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"No, no, no...," he futilely wails to the heavens above; but they only mock his cries with the whoosh of deadly projectiles that continue to fly overhead and sting the ground all around the rest of us, greedily searching for more victims.

Marina angrily crawls to the edge of the parapet and peers over the side. What she sees amazes her: a vast, ancient army of tunic-clad warriors surges toward these high walls, screaming for victory as their shields and remaining javelins glisten in the sparkling sunlight. Even now, many of them attempt to struggle up the crumbling walls all around our vulnerable position, having tossed rope or wooden ladders against the fortress inclines, to easily scale the broken battlements unopposed.

Marina shouts a warning to the rest of us, "Close your eyes!" A moment later, a searing white light flashes from her extended right hand. The army below immediately staggers about in physical pain, their eyes temporarily rendered useless by the intensity of the bright beams, as if the sun above had suddenly dropped out of the sky to punish them. They were fortunate, however, that she hadn't summoned a brighter light upon their vulnerable numbers and blinded them all permanently.

The falling missiles having slowed and then stopped, Joan stands up and angrily gestures toward the multitude of soldiers stumbling around below. Ladders quickly topple over, spilling and dropping those few warriors who had not let go when their eyesight initially failed them. Using her telekinesis, she rolls the entire army backward as if kicking several soccer balls across a grassy field.

Paul joins her, raising a stinging dust storm out over the flat landscape and chasing the befuddled army well back from the ruined walls of Troy, now believing that all of the gods have turned against them at once.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Harmony of Spheres

The fight referred to in this sequence took place elsewhere:

Chapter Thirty-six

In a large, darkened house, on a quiet side street on Capitol Hill in Denver, a tall, lanky, gray-haired man nearing 60 fearfully peers out at the sidewalk through a small crack between carefully drawn drapes.

"Do you see them yet?" his short, portly lover Henry fretfully asks Richard as he hangs back, well out of sight.

"No, love," soothes Richard, releasing his hold on the heavy fabric and allowing it to close tightly once again. "We shouldn't expect James and Geoffrey to be here this soon with our groceries. They only called a little more than an hour ago to ask us what we needed."

"I know, Richey," Henry sighs, wringing his hands in despair and finally sitting down on an overstuffed sofa in their living room. "I was only hoping they'd get here soon. I'm just terrified each night that we're alone."

Richard rejoins Henry on the couch, holding his lover close and comforting him, "Everything will be fine, hon. Joan and Marina and the others should reach the comet soon enough. They'll immediately alter its course, and then everyone will see that the Earth has been saved. We can only hope that people will quickly return to their senses and stop all of this madness."

"I'm so frightened," Henry confesses. "I really believe that this is what it was like to be gay in Nazi Germany in the 1930's. You're afraid that your neighbors are going to turn on you, you're afraid to walk the streets, and you're even afraid to be with your friends and patronize their businesses."

He looks at Richard wide-eyed, "James told me that a mob ransacked Category Six Books on 11th Street and burned every magazine, book, poster, and flag!"

"I know," Richard assures him, shaking his head. "And arsonists also torched The Triangle bar and The Foxhole."

"Even the Metropolitan Community Church has been vandalized repeatedly," Henry reminds him. "Nothing is sacred to these scoundrels."

"True. But they've also spray-painted hateful slogans on the Presbyterian and Lutheran churches near here," Richard adds. "We're not the only ones being single out, it seems. When it appears that the world is about to end, everyone else's beliefs obviously become a target."

The doorbell rings and both men give a start.

"I'll answer it," Richard bravely offers. "You wait right here."

"Be careful," Henry pleads. Then he adds, "I wish we had a gun."

"Guns are not the answer, Henry; they're the problem," Richard grimly assures him. However, he sadly concedes, "I'll be careful."

Quietly, he makes his way to the front door. Holding his breath, he peers out through the peephole. Grateful, he loudly exhales: "Thank goodness. It's James and Geoffrey!"

He reaches for the dead bolt lock, quickly unlatches it, and opens the door, "Come in. Come in, gentlemen."

As their two friends enter carrying several bags of groceries, Richard notices a cut on Geoffrey's cheek, "What happened to you?"

"Some homophobe at 'Queen' Soopers called us faggots after he saw the rainbow flag on our car, so I beat the crap out of him," Geoffrey explains, setting the groceries on the floor.

Giving Richard a hug, James grins and adds, "Actually, the guy got one sucker punch in before Geoffrey decked him. My hero."

Geoffrey just shakes his head and grimly laughs, "I'm not taking guff from anyone these days. I'm sure that guy's not gonna call anyone else a faggot after this."

"I'll get a Band-Aid and some disinfectant to clean that cut," Henry frets as he enters the hallway and looks closely at Geoffrey's wound. "Your attacker was probably rabid."

He then turns to his lover, "Richard, please show our guests into the kitchen."

Pointing the way down a darkened hall, Richard asks, "How is it outside? Henry and I have been too fearful to venture out for the last two days. We don't even watch the news; it's too depressing. And we certainly won't turn on any lights at night."

"Actually," James assures him, "in some ways, it's getting a bit better. The community is starting to organize. I certainly wouldn't recommend that any antigay bigots go anywhere near Charlie's right now. Those Country and Western queens have set up a citizens' patrol around the bar, and they're heavily armed from boot to Stetson. I'm convinced that they will shoot first and ask questions later."

"Violence, violence, violence," Richard laments after offering his friends a seat at the kitchen table and then taking one himself. "I have not been able to comprehend how people can become so crazy, so quickly, especially in Denver."

"It's much worse in Colorado Springs," Geoffrey assures him. "Some friends of ours who live there are temporarily staying with us. They said that when all of the fundamentalist Christians got finished burning down the gay bars and left-wing bookstores and businesses, they soon started attacking one another's churches over denominational differences."

"Yep," James concurs. "When you fundamentally disagree over several passages in the Bible, and the world may be coming to an end, even minor scriptural differences suddenly take on a much greater significance."

Entering the kitchen with the emergency kit, Henry tisks, "If you're convinced that this comet represents God's retribution upon all of humankind, you're bound to go self-righteously mad with guilt and seek your own personal retribution upon everyone else for this threat to the Earth."

"Now don't flinch," Henry then warns Geoffrey, looking intently at the cut on his face while preparing to apply some disinfectant with a cotton ball. "This might sting a little at first, but it will help promote healing."

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Slight of Mind

This is the first time we see the four new super-heroes utilizing their abilities.

Chapter One

To view the interplay of persons behaving badly toward one another when the subjects are oblivious about being observed, about being judged.

To overhear a blunt world, accustomed to stating exactly what it means, while unconcerned that those who are targeted hover well within range.

At the edge of a strained and murky alley near the Village, on a hot summer night in New York, two hunky lovers stand, arms temporarily upraised while confronted by another man pointing a glinting gun.

"Please hand over your wallets, gentlemen," the unexpectedly polite mugger demands of the two, "and nobody will get hurt."

The weapon, unfortunately for this usually accomplished criminal, suddenly flies out of his hand and clangs into a convenient dumpster.

One of the intended victims then confidently remarks, "I don't think we'll be surrendering our wallets to you tonight. Sorry."

The startled gunman, with the odds two against one now that he's disarmed, turns and flees for the safety of numbers walking the sidewalks this evening. Escaping under a scraggly tree at the curb, the man is suddenly lurched from the concrete, however, and quickly lifted upward, collared by a conveniently low hanging branch. Immediately, he finds himself dangling helplessly from the limb, unable to shake loose.

Joseph, having used his power over plants to seize the criminal, then flags down a passing patrol car whose occupants make a quick arrest. The officers obtain the weapon from William who had used his magnetic powers to retrieve the gun from the dumpster.

On the opposite rim of the continent, two women dine with a few female friends at a rooftop restaurant featuring an incredible view of San Diego below. The sun begins to settle down for the evening, as an intense sparkle of city lights is pleasingly evident.

At a nearby table, a man loudly complains to his companion, a woman he hopes to ease into the sack soon after dinner, "I'm sick of faggots destroying the moral fiber of this country."

"Please lower your voice," his exasperated date tells him, furtively glancing about. "You might offend someone."

"Aw," the obnoxious man persists, "I don't give a damn what perverts think!" He gestures with a dismissive wave of a hand that accidentally brushes against a water goblet. Oddly, the glass tips toward him, spilling ice cubes and cold water into his lap and thoroughly soaking him.

"Damn," the angry man utters, standing up so suddenly that he topples a passing waiter's dessert tray against his chest, gooey vanilla ice cream and chocolate fudge sauce oozing down the front of his pricey shirt and tie. At the same moment, a sticky wedge of lemon meringue pie flips off of the falling tray and splats against his face, lodging there for a precious moment before dropping onto an expensive shoe.

His companion vainly tries to suppress the urge to giggle but soon cannot stop laughing, immediately fleeing to the ladies room and abandoning her hopeless date to his own devices.

At the adjacent table of lesbians, the dark-haired woman with flashing black eyes and telekinetic abilities snickers to herself while continuing to enjoy her dinner, as well as converse warmly with her friends.

With a hint of a smile betraying true feelings, her blond lover, who commands light and darkness, as well as heat and cold, looks askance at the culinary disaster unfolding close by and then softly chides, "Joan, you really shouldn't have done that."

"I know, Marina," the dark-haired woman responds with a mischievous wink. "I really hate to see good food go to waste."

In a high-rise condominium overlooking Cheesman Park in the midst of the Capitol Hill region of the Mile High City of Denver, Colorado, two other powerful gay men conclude a meal at their dining room table.

The younger man asks his lover, whose eyes are closed, hinting at telepathic preoccupation, "So, Greg, how are our four pagan friends doing on their respective vacations?"

"Fine," the older man smiles as he opens his eyes, severing his long distance eavesdropping of both coastlines. "They seem to be enjoying themselves immensely."

"Are they trying out their new supernatural abilities?" Paul asks with a curious grin, since he has been able to control air, earth, fire, and water for more than a year, after accompanying his lover and his four friends, members of the Rainbow Arc of Fire, a gay pagan band, into the mountains on an Autumn Equinox retreat.

"Yes," Greg confirms, bemused. "It's certainly comforting to know that we can now count upon a quartet of accomplices in our on-going battle against hardened criminals and stupid homophobes."

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Worlds Beneath Us

This was an fun book to write. I was able to call upon much of what I had read, and taught, about ancient mythologies and classical deities.

Chapter Nineteen

Utilizing the deer's senses, Greg realizes that Joan, or rather Artemis, is moving off in the opposite direction to search for him. He quietly pivots around the base of the tree, his hiding place, to sneak up behind her unawares. He takes a step but does not see the unwary twig beneath his foot. The snap is much louder than he could have imagined, setting off a furious chirping of nesting birds in a nearby tree before he can silence them.

Artemis, recognizing the nearness of her defamer, swiftly turns and approaches him on the run. She reaches for her belt, as Greg rapidly retreats, trying to escape and buy time for an alternative strategy. She unfurls a lasso with her left hand and sends it flying toward the fleeing man.

As if guided by the very gods themselves, the rope snakes its way through the air, the wide loop gently settling over Greg's head, wafting down around his trunk and to his ankles, where the noose becomes suddenly taut, tripping him and snapping his body hard against the ground. Greg momentarily loses consciousness as his head strikes the unforgiving surface.

Several moments later, Greg begins to open his eyes, move his head, and gaze about, the immediate scene in front of him still a blur. He also painfully discovers that not only does his forehead hurt, as a decided lump begins to swell, but also his body is now firmly and uncomfortably tied to a tree. Even with his extraordinary strength, he quickly finds that he cannot free himself.

"You were foolish to think that you could escape my wrath," Artemis coolly informs him as she reaches back into her quiver for another deadly arrow.

"Wait, Joan!" Greg pleads. "Don't do it!"

"Why do you call me 'Joan'?" Artemis responds, deeply annoyed. "Not only do you despoil my sacred temple, but now you do not even recognize me for who I am! Does your blasphemy know no bounds?"

Trying a different tack, Greg counters, "I am not from this region. I was unaware of your rituals and ways. Give me another chance to perform the appropriate offerings."

"Ignorance of our sacred laws is no excuse," she sternly warns him. "The price for your blasphemy is certain death."

Looking about in a panic, Greg feels himself precariously out of options as the Huntress levels her arrow across the bow and begins to draw the taut string firmly, to let the missile fly forth and do her fatal bidding.

Immediately, Greg's eyes catch a subtle motion across the vaulted, sky-blue ceiling above. If only he has time enough.

She fires her efficient weapon with a firm admonition, "May the supreme forces that I command guide my arrow true!"

All that Greg can see is a sharp point, homing like some guided missile and heading directly at his chest.

Two yards from the target, however, sharp claws swiftly catch the glistening shaft, and a satisfied hawk swoops away. Soaring upward with its wings all aflap, it imagines itself in surprising possession of a tender rodent, snatched out of the very air itself.

Before Artemis can reach for another arrow and fire again, Greg telepathically orders the deer grazing a few paces off to charge her mistress.

Startled that one of her own gentle creatures would attack, the goddess is caught off guard, losing her balance and pitching forward suddenly.

Greg then has the deer nudge the flared base of the silver helmet, quickly easing it off of the goddess's head before she can comprehend his simple trick.

Artemis then sits upright, her dark locks falling all around her shoulders with an oblivious sweep. Confused, she rubs her temples as if roundly awakening from a difficult sleep.

"Where am I?" Joan wonders aloud, noting the shiny helmet on the grass beside her but ignorant of its purpose.

Still tied to the tree, Greg finally allows himself a welcome sigh of relief.

---

Fight Sequence Rainbow Arc of Fire: Souls Within Stone

I wrote this one as if it were a contemporary Western, and what does anyone expect in a Western but a bar room brawl? Well, given the heroes and their abilities, the didn't actually have to fight in the bar room and wreck the place:

Chapter Thirty-seven

Several of the patrons rush to the windows, holding curtains aside, intensely curious as to what will happen next. None is willing, however, to become directly involved, especially not with stopping an impending fight. The waitress stands at the front door, hands on her hips, looking out at the parking lot and shaking her head at the stupidity of all men.

"Paul," Greg advises his lover outside, "you stay out of this. I'll handle the three of them myself."

"Whatever you say, Greg," Paul grins, stepping back, knowing that Greg might have been a bit over matched if there were six of them. Three, he knows, should be a breeze.

"Oh, aren't you the tough one?" the first man ridicules, wondering why these two faggots act so confident since he and his buddies never fight fair. "We'll take you on one at a time, then."

"That's acceptable to me," Greg smiles, pretending not to notice that one of the guys has slipped up behind him, intending to pin his arms while the other two take their best shots.

"Gotcha," the one breathes heavily on Greg's neck, smelling strongly of garlic.
"This is gonna be easier than I thought," the first one says, telegraphing his punch by a mile.

Greg tilts his head and the meaty fist sails past his ear, smashing hard against the nose of the guy behind Greg, making a loud, cracking noise.

"Damn it, Bobby," the guy behind Greg yells, releasing his hold and grabbing his face, collapsing to the ground in a bloody heap. "You broke my goddamn nose, you idiot!"

"The bastard moved," Bobby shouts, angry with himself for missing and taking out his buddy.

The third guy, not wanting to waste a chance, swings at Greg's midsection; but Greg deftly moves, causing the guy to fall to the ground.

"Shit!" he shouts in a muffled voice, now face down in the gravel and dirt.

Bobby, the ringleader, is furious that his two partners have been so quickly neutralized. He comes at Greg and swings again. Greg ducks easily, then stabs an uppercut at the guy's jaw, breaking it and sending him flying backward, instantly groggy. Unlike fight scenes in the movies, however, Bobby's pain is excruciating. Flat on his back and holding his jaw, he does not get up, fortunate that he did not lose any teeth. Woozy, he still recognizes that it was a blow the like of which he has never taken before in any previous brawl.

The guy face down on the ground has quickly gotten up, however, and reaches into the open window of their pickup, grabbing an ax handle. Greg knows what the guy is up to but steps toward the truck anyway, keeping his back to the man and acting as if he has not noticed the other's obvious move for a weapon.

Looking through his attacker's eyes as the man swings, Greg ducks, and the ax handle smacks into the windshield of their truck, cracking the glass.

"Hold still, you asshole," the guy yells in frustration, losing all control, a serious blunder in a fight with a telepathic adversary.

He wildly swings the ax handle again, as Greg has slipped to the front of the truck. This time the blow misses wide and smashes a headlight. "Damn it!"

He continues to follow Greg, entirely enraged, raising the ax handle high and bringing it down, as Greg jukes away, crushing the side mirror instead. "Shit!"
As the guy angrily stares at the damage he has caused to their own truck, Greg calmly asks him, "Had enough?"

"No!" the man shouts, pissed and pointing the ax handle at the shattered side mirror. "Look what you made me do!"

"I did nothing," Greg announces, knowing that the guy won't take responsibility for his own stupidity and now tired of wasting time with him. Greg rears back and punches the guy in the left eye, knocking him backward into the side of the pickup.

The guy drops the ax handle and reaches for the side of his face, groaning and sinking to the running board, not knowing how lucky he was that Greg took something off the punch.

Standing over the one named Scotty and shaking his head, Greg then tells him, "I think you've had enough now, and that eye's probably going to swell shut real soon unless we get some ice on it."

He reaches down to help Scotty up, knowing that the fight has left all three of these would-be combatants. He also picks up the ax handle from the ground.

"Thanks," Scotty mumbles, staggering to his feet and finally accepting that he has been badly beaten.

"It isn't like in the movies, fella," Greg explains, as he helps the bruised man toward the restaurant, tossing the ax handle several yards away into the brush.

Paul has already taken the other two inside for some ice for their broken nose and broken jaw, respectively, assuring them that his lover packs quite a wallop, and rubbing it in just a little by adding, "I tried to warn you not to pick a fight with him."

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