The Danteri made their way slowly through the Pit's northwest corridor.  They moved with caution, surveying literally every foot of land before them.  All of them knew that the Pit could be merciless on anyone who didn't keep his guard up at all times.

    Falkar kept a wary eye on the skies overhead, trying to be alert to any sudden change in the weather.  He'd never actually explored the Pit, but its reputation was formidable.

    Falkar's aide, Delina, suddenly stiffened as he studied the readings from a sensor device.  "What is it?" Falkar demanded.

    Delina turned and looked at his superior with a grim smile.  "We've got him," he said.  He tapped the sensor readings.  "He's stationary, approximately one hundred yards west."

    "He's not moving?"

    "Not at all."

    Falkar frowned at hearing that.  "I don't like the sound of it.  He could be sitting there, knowing we're looking for him, trying to lure us into a trap."

    "But isn't it just as likely, sir," suggested Delina, "that he's injured?  Helpless?  That he's resting in hopes of remaining in hiding?  How does he even know he's pursued, sir?"

    Thoughtfully, Falkar stroked his chin and stared in the direction that the sensor indicated.  Stared with such an intensity that one would have thought he could actually see M'k'n'zy with unaided gaze.  "He knows, Delina."

    "With all respect, sir, you don't know that for sure..."

    Falkar fixed his gaze on Delina.  "When our troops moved in for the surprise raid on Calhoun...he knew, and the city's defenses repelled us.  When we were positive that we had them cornered in the Plains of Seanwin...he knew, outflanked us, and obliterated five squadrons.  When my top advisors assured me that the Battle of Condacin could not possibly be anticipated, that it was-in fact-the preeminent military strike of the century..."

    Delina's face darkened.  "My brother died at Condacin."

    "I know," said Falkar.  "And the reason was that M'k'n'zy knew.  I don't know how.  Maybe he trucks with the spirit world.  Maybe he's psychic.  All that matters is that he knew then, and he knows now."

    "Let him," said Delina fiercely.  "Let him for all the good it will do him.  If you'll allow me, sir, I'll rip his heart out with my own hands."

    Falkar studied him appraisingly.  "Very well."

    "Thank you, sir."  Delina snapped off a smart-looking salute.

    With confidence, the Danteri headed after their prey.

    The confidence lasted until they moved through a narrow passageway that led to the hiding place of M'k'n'zy.  Then there was a faint rumble from overhead, which quickly became far more than faint.  They looked up just in time to see a massive landslide of rocks cascading toward them.  There was a mad scramble forward as they tried to avoid the trap.  Screeches were truncated as soldiers disappeared beneath the heavy stones.  There was a brief moment of hesitation as the Danteri tried to decide-with death raining down around them-whether they should advance or fall back.  Falkar was shouting orders, but was having trouble making himself heard above the din.

    Falkar, in turn, did not hear Delina's shout of warning.  All he knew was that suddenly Delina slammed into him, knocking him back against a wall.  For a split second his breeding objected strenuously to such handling, but it was only a split second that he felt that way.  Because a moment later the boulder that would have struck Falkar instead landed squarely on Delina, who hadn't been able to get himself out of the way in time.  Delina vanished under the boulder, wearing an expression of both outrage...and satisfaction.

    All of it happened within seconds.  Ultimately the Danteri overcame their hesitation and did indeed drive forward, or at least the handful of survivors did.

    They plunged headlong to safety, or so they thought.

    In fact, what they plunged headlong into was ground that gave way beneath their feet.  Falkar, bringing up the rear, stopped himself barely in time as he heard the alarmed howls from his men.  The rumbling of the rockslide behind him was fading.  On hands and knees Falkar slowly edged forward and peered into the hole.  Far below he saw the glint of some sort of underground cavern, and the broken bodies of his men down there.  He glanced back over his shoulder and saw assorted hands and feet sticking out from between the rocks from the avalanche.

    "Bastard," he hissed between clenched teeth.