Jerome Bigge - Warlady 6 - In Harm's Way

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"IN HARM'S WAY"

AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN

By Robert J. Simmons

Forward

When I married Carol back in 1976, (AND THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO!) I hoped that we'd

settle down to a comfortable settled mar- ried life that would go on for year after year. For the first

fifteen years until the year 1991 that was the way that it was. Then suddenly we were "plucked" out of

our own time, our own era, and "dropped" into a strange hostile world over five centuries in our future.

A world where Man had fought a great WAR with alien beings from another world and lost back in the

21st Century. Where the mysterious and almost "supernatural" Priestesses of Lys now "controlled" the

entire solar system from behind the scenes. Here we quickly found adventure (a lot more than we

wanted) and a "cause" for which we soon found ourselves fighting for there in the service of Maris, the

Queen of Dularn against a great Empire.

The "world" of the 26th Century was a strange place, in many ways much like that of Rome at its

glory. A social order where capital ships of the navies were still heavy triremes, where the most

"advanced" missile weapons depended upon human muscle power. The sword was the preferred

personal weapon of choice, and human slavery was commonplace everywhere. The common form of

political organization was a constitutional monarchy with Queens now pre- ferred due perhaps to half

mythical legends of a "woman" who had once ruled the entire world way back in the Twenty First

Century.

"In Harm's Way" is a term that was often used by sailors in the old "square rigger" navies before the

development of steam. When you sailed up broadside to broadside with an enemy ship, you certainly

were "in harm's way" for sure as you faced a row of black cannon muzzles and knew that death might be

in the air now! On the other hand there are other ways of being "in harm's way" than in a ship to ship

battle. Certainly facing a group of 26th Century "feminists" who hate everything "male" would

"qualify"... Another is meeting up with the Lorr and the Women in an era when you least expected it. A

time before the Priestesses of Lys were "founded" by Janet Rogers. A time when Man still felt himself to

be the only form of intelligent life in the entire solar system. Before we learned the "TRUTH" there

beneath the surface of Mars.

Next Chapter

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"IN HARM'S WAY"

AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN

By Robert J. Simmons

Chapter One

My unicorn was just a bit skitterish on the icy street as he followed the trotting mare of the Royal

Warrioress ahead through the blowing snow of this late winter blizzard. Few of the resi- dents of Arsana

we passed paying us any attention, their collars pulled up high, caps and hats snugged down tight on

their heads as they scurried along the now slippery walks to their destina- tions, the store fronts and

brick condominiums side by side like a wall fronting the street on either side all tightly shuttered for the

night. Night had already fallen, and I thought regret- fully again of that fine roast beef dinner with

carrots and pota- toes that Kathi had fixed for Carol and I. I had been looking forward to a quiet peaceful

evening with my wife, nearly three months pregnant with our baby girl, Kathi attentive to our every

need, but when the Queen of Dularn "beckons", one dares not say "no"... As the Admiral of Dularn I had

my "duties" to the Queen.

It was the first of March, the year 2568 A.D. as I think of it. The people of this era saw it however as

521 A.W., marking time now from The War of 2047 between Earth and the planet Mars. In any case it

was not a night for man or beast, I growled to my- self, my greatcoat collar pulled up, my tricornered hat

as Admi- ral of the Royal Navy pulled down tight against the wind that threatened to blow it from my

head. My sword slapping against my thigh as my stallion trotted after the mare just ahead of him, a gust

of wind blowing a handful of icy snowflakes up into my face. Arsana is built on the ruins of Victoria on

the Island of Vancou- ver, although none but historians call the island that now. To everyone else now it

is "Dularn", or "God's Land" as the early settlers called it after The War of 2047 when Mankind reverted

to a barbaric and primitive style of life similar to that of Twelfth Century Europe during the Dark Ages

after the "fall" of Rome. It is a lovely land, at least in warm weather, but the winters can be unpleasant,

perhaps due to the long term climatic effects from the use of anti-matter bombs by the Lorr some five

centuries ago. The sudden "Ice Age" of the second half of the 21st Century caused by the Lorr's

bombing still not completely over even now.

So far as I knew our peace treaties with the Empire of Cali- fornia to the south still held, although

Darlanis is yet still an "ambitious" Empress, and one who still dreams of being a "second Janet Rogers",

the first having once been the ruler of the world. There was also Lorraine Richards, once of the 20th

Century like Carol and I, who as a student of weaponry and war, had become the "Warlady of

California" as well as the Queen of Free Trelandar, a land that once had been southern California in a

time now "myth".

Arsana is a walled city of about thirty thousand, somewhat smaller than such great capitals as Sarn

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and Trella to the south, but yet an adequate sized city, especially in a technology where one either rides

an animal or has said animal pull you in a buggy or carriage of some sort. In such a social order, life is

much different from that of the 20th Century, and a trip of a hundred miles can take you days by land,

instead of a couple hours behind the steering wheel of an automobile down a modern freeway. This is

the sort of a thing that eventually makes you realize just how much the world has "changed", and that

what you took for granted back in the 20th Century doesn't even exist now except as words in a history

book. There are no telephones, no TV or radio. You either go read a book or attend a play or lecture as

"entertain- ment" in this era. People work hard, harder than they ever did in our time, with a standard

"workweek" of about sixty hours or so with yet little if any machinery to "ease" one's labors. On the

other hand it is a social order that has a "vitality" about it that ours didn't. People in this society take

politics seri- ously, and one can hear serious discussions often carried on in the workshops and places of

business about the "merits" of var- ious ideas, about how "good" a Queen Maris Marn "is" or isn't. I

have no doubt that these people take their "politics" seriously.

Personal freedom is considerably greater than it was back in the 20th Century. The "right" to keep

and bear arms is taken for granted by all Dularnians. The idea that a "democratic" govern- ment could

dare "disarm" you and that you would not rise up against that government is something few people here

can "under- stand". The same is perhaps "true" in the field of drugs, in the issue of "prostitution", and a

number of other things. A "line" has been "drawn", and both the Queen and the Senate know better than

to "cross" it. Taxes are low, and "welfare" almost non-ex- istant... This is an "Aryan-Nordic" culture,

quite "different" from my era. The concept of "civil rights" being unknown here.

Hunched up on the back of my mount, I saw the gates of the palace opening before us, the

Warrioress trotting on through just ahead of me and then dismounting to take my reins as I swung my

leg up over the back of my unicorn stallion, my face already numb from the cold as the snowflakes came

pouring down from the sky, the lamps on their posts only dim glows in this blowing blizzard. The palace

there before us like a massive pile of cold wet stone.

"All I know, Admiral Simmons, is that her `majesty' said it was `important'," the woman repeated as

I faced her, her walnut hair there beneath her helmet now crusted with snow much like her chain mail,

her chattering teeth leaving no doubts now as to her own discomfort. No doubt she'd dash to the

guardhouse for a warm drink of some sort while warming herself next to the pot bellied wood burning

stove that was the usual source of heat here in this land. What would have been called a "Franklin Stove"

back in co- lonial America, which Dularn muchly resembles in many ways...

"I'm sorry to call you out on a night like this," Maris Marn smiled to me, taking my hands in hers,

the precious jewels in her tiara glittering in the lamplight while a slave girl looked on. The sweet curves

of the Queen's body visible there beneath the wool of a long gray dress that set off her green eyes, her

golden hair falling about her shoulders over her white furred cape. A very "attractive" woman, whom

Carol once told me reminded her quite a bit of the 20th Century TV actress Katherine Kelly Lang.

(Brooke Logan, of the soap opera, "THE BOLD AND THE BEAUTIFUL")* * It should be noted here

that many Dularnian women do "bleach" their hair, much like the woman of the 20th Century did. On

the other hand the number of "natural" blondes was higher than what would otherwise occur due to the

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activities of the Priestesses of Lys, who have the power to alter the genetic code to some degree. It is my

theory that this "technology" was first invented in the 21st Century during the time of Janet Rogers, and

has been car- ried down through the generations up to the Twenty Six Century.

"I assumed it was serious," I smiled back. The captain of the North Star, Sandra Steven, standing

there to one side of the room, her first officer, young Shari Johnson, seventeen, at her side. The North

Star was the "flagship" of Dularn, a hundred and twenty foot long raiding schooner mounting twenty

four ballistae and some six catapults. Last year with the "assistance" of the late raider North Wind we'd

taken her up against the Imperial's new "dreadnought", the "iron-clad" Athena under the command of

Lorraine Richards herself. We'd "won", but it had been the sort of a "victory" that had left sixty dead,

and almost that many wounded to one extent or another. I still had the scar in my leg from the ballistae

bolt I'd gotten hit by, and Carol had almost gotten killed in that battle, while Maris' left leg still both-

ered her a bit, especially when the weather was damp like this...

"I have a `mission' for the North Star," Maris said to me.

"Which you don't want anyone to know about," I smiled back.

"You will sail immediately," Maris replied, her eyes meeting mine. "And carry out my orders to the

best of your abilities." The Queen then giving me my sealed orders and a quick brief kiss! The few

words that she whispered into my ear left no doubts now!!

"Carol!" I breathed, my wife giving me a smile as she sat there beneath the stern windows of the

North Star, the lights of the city just visible across the harbor through the blowing snow. Her hazel eyes

filled with "concern" as she rose, her greatcoat open, hinting at the still youthful curves of her body

beneath. Her walnut hair wet with melted snow as I took her in my arms. I love my provocative

brownette more than life itself, for without her life would not be worth living. She is five seven to my

six one. In her now grew the little bit of flesh that would be our little girl in another six months. The

Priestesses had "done" what would have been only a "dream" back home in our own century.

"A `secret mission'?" she spoke, her red lips brushing mine. Her hand reaching up, brushing my dark

hair as my deep brown eyes held hers. Her mouth that of an "houri", her curvy body an erot- ic promise

of delight as my wife pressed herself up against me.

"`Sealed orders' I'm to open when I reach our destination," I answered. That was quite a ways to the

north, along the south- ern coast of what had been the State of Alaska back in our own time. I wondered

what Maris wanted with anything that far north! There among the iceburgs and everything else in that

icy sea...

"Kathi is putting a few things away for you," Carol said, a smile curving her soft moist lips as I still

held her in my arms. "I told her to keep an eye on you and see that you take proper care of yourself," my

wife continued, her eyes growing moist now. The memories flooding back of another time, another

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place, of my wife attired in a buckskin bikini peeling potatoes at the sink. Of "making love" in the

clearing behind the house, Carol wet and sweaty beneath me, her hazel eyes filled with love meeting

mine. Of playing all those little "games" that we used to do together.

"You are the Warlady of Dularn," I said. "Maris needs you." Carol was under our Constitution the

head of the military, and took her orders directly from the Queen herself. The concept of a "civilian

control" of the military is considered "foolish" now. The "national sport" of Dularnians is archery,

followed closely by public contests of the sword. They are a martial people, well used to defending

themselves from enemies, living in a hostile and dangerously savage world where such skills are often

needed if one wishes to live in freedom. Slavery was "commonplace", es- pecially that of women, who

were often sought by slavers of other nations, the light haired women of Dularn often sought as slaves.

"The ice cap extends further down than it did in our time," Carol said, telling me what I already

knew. No doubt she wished to make conversation, to have a last few words with me before she left the

ship. She was pregnant, carrying our daughter to be. I kissed her again, holding her, the memories

flooding back of oth- er times, other places. Of a warm sunny forest in a time now myth. Perhaps it was

just as well that Kathi interrupted things then. Neither Carol or I were truly of this era like another is. A

woman who many say is the greatest swordswoman of all time. A tall slender black haired Queen, a true

"Warlady" of the great Empire to the south of us. She who once had been Lorraine Duval.

"I have stowed away the things, mistress," Kathi spoke, her eyes having perhaps missed little of what

had been going on then. Her long heavy woolen dress half concealing her sensual curves. Her blondish

hair still wet with melted snow much like Carol's. The gleaming band of her slave collar was snug about

her throat. It was of fourteen caret gold, marking her well as what she was. A sudden knock at the cabin

door putting a quick halt to things.

"Enter," Carol spoke up, standing there beside me, her coat thrown back, her ornate weapons belt,

the sword, clothing, leav- ing little doubt as to her status as Warlady, a rank that made her second only to

the Queen of Dularn. A small brand on the in- terior of her right wrist marked her as being of the Caste

of Warrioresses. My wife's skill with a sword and bow was famous.

"We are ready to set sail, sir," captain Steven said, her hair white with snow where it wasn't covered

by her uniform hat. She was a good sized gal, the sort often considered "Dularnian".

"I will be leaving now," Carol spoke quietly then to us.

"You may get us underway, when convenient," I said to San- dra, the boat that had brought Carol

now disappearing into the darkness towards the docks. Kathi below, taking care of things.

"Going to damn `cold' there," Sandra smiled. I nodded back. Her eyes glittering in the light of the

lamps there on the quar- terdeck. She is a blonde, although the dark roots I've seen leave little doubt that

her own natural hair color isn't "light".

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"Johnson!" Sandra barked from the quarterdeck, "Get those men up on deck and hoist the jib and

spanker!" Shari looking up at her, almost as white as a snowman as she stood there below us! The

captain then adding in a low voice, "There was a strongbox that came aboard just after your wife that

took four men to carry it below, and there is only one thing that weighs that much!" I smiled, nodded

again, cleared my throat. I knew "what" our mis- sion was. Maris had whispered that in my ear before I'd

left the palace. It was perhaps "best" right now that no one else "knew"! Three thousand gold crowns

would buy half a dozen ships like the North Star, a hundred prime slave girls. Such a "treasure" car- ried

aboard a ship can make any commanding officer "nervous", es- pecially when it is so "easy" for a crew

to take over a ship and turn pirate. Just then, however, my thought was not of the gold carried below in

its strongbox, but of a young blue eyed teenaged Queen now held in helpless bondage there far to the

north of us!

"I had it put in your cabin," she then added with a smile.

"That was doubtlessly wise," I smiled back at her then...

"I have detailed a guard," she added, seeing my nod...

Next Chapter

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"IN HARM'S WAY"

AN ADVENTURE IN THE SECOND DARK AGE OF MAN

By Robert J. Simmons

Chapter Two

I watched the last lights of Arsana fade out in the blowing snow, Sandra barking orders as the main

sail was then hoisted up. It was a lousy night for sailors, I thought to myself just then. The ropes were

stiff, icy, the deck and yards slippery with wet snow. It is easy to injure yourself under such conditions

or perhaps even die in a fall from the yards to the deck. Unlike "life" on land, aboard a ship you are

much more dependent upon your companions, upon your officers, upon everyone doing just what they

"should"! This is perhaps why naval discipline must be as strict as it is. Why "slackness" cannot be

tolerated at sea. The ocean does not give you a "second chance" to correct errors!

"This will probably last until morning," Sandra said to me. My teeth were chattering from the "chill"

of this damp icy wind.

"Carry on, call me if needed," I answered, leaving her then. While I was her superior officer, she was

responsible for the day to day operations of the ship as its captain. It was up to her to navigate the ship,

to sail it to wherever we were to go now... My sealed orders from Maris had merely said to sail to a

certain point far to the north of Dularn and then open the orders there. The Queen had however told me

that this was a "rescue mission". That the freedom, perhaps the life of Sharon Duval, the Queen of

Orgon, now depended upon my being able to carry it out success- fully. Maris had not told me "why"

this had to be carried out in secrecy, but I assumed she had good reason for her actions here. As for

"why" we were doing this instead of an Imperial squadron was something she'd not answered, although I

suspected that Maris doubtlessly had good reason for acting as she had in this matter.

There are to the north of Dularn a number of small islands and coves along the coastline of north

America, scattered groups of people living much as those of perhaps fifteen hundred years ago had

lived. Their "culture", if you could call it that, was much like that of "Northmen" of the Twelfth Century.

They made their living by fishing, farming during the summer months, and by carrying out raids from

the sea on coastal villages to the south, both in Dularn and California, it not being unknown to find their

small swift vessels as far south as Baja. These ships being usu- ally what we'd call a "fourth rate", that is

a two masted schoon- er about eighty feet in length at the largest, most of them rang- ing from about

seventy to eighty feet and carrying sixty foot masts with main and top sails. While such craft cannot

fight any warship, they can outsail most. On the other hand the crews of such ships are trained fighting

men, with a tradition of close hand to hand combat much like the "Vikings" of old. They also use among

their own islands oared vessels much like the old Nor- dic "serpent", even to the dragon heads, and

packed with men half drunk and full of fight, eager for "battle"! Fortunately for the "civilized" nations to

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the south of them they tend to fight so much among themselves now that they have never become a

"serious" threat, although they are a "terror" to those who live in coastal fishing and lumbering villages

to the south, who have good rea- sons to fear the "Northmen", especially so for any young women!

"I have your dinner, master," Kathi smiled, the table set. I could smell the odor of the food, my

stomach growling with hun- ger from having missed my supper. The roast beef, carrots and potatoes the

sort of a dish any proper Dularnian might "enjoy"!!! None of this "rabbit food" that was popular in

California either!

"You even managed to warm it," I smiled, well aware that no doubt "the admiral's slave girl" was

able to do things that oth- erwise would have taken an "order" from the captain to have done.

"I have also washed and `shaved' if master would like to en- joy me afterwards," Kathi smiled, her

eyes glowing hot into mine! She was a good looking wench, a bit "ripe" bodied, with gun metal gray

eyes. Shorter than Carol, but built on a scale of 38-26-38.

"I will take `that' under consideration," I smiled at her. Aboard any wooden sailing ship there is no

way of "heating" it as such, which means that in weather like this the interior is much like that of some

barn in the winter, both in temperature and in the odors that soon gather below deck from unwashed

human bodies. One is always "cold", with "warmth" just a memory of other times. If you try to wash

your clothing, they will not "dry" due to the damp below decks, which merely makes the "problem" even

"worse". The only "heat" aboard such a ship being the "cookstove", which is built in a small room below

decks, all shielded with metal to prevent the spread of fire. Other than this, the interior of a sailing ship

such as the North Star is miserable in the winter...

"I have taken the privilege of cutting master's food," Kathi said to me, taking the cover off the dish,

the "steam" gently now floating up in the still musty air of the ship's stern cabin. I had no doubts either

that the wench had hopes of sharing my meal. When alone Carol and I often let Kathi sit at the table

with us, treating her more as a "servant" than as the slave girl she was. She was an extremely "female"

gal, who knew just "what" she was.

"Help yourself," I said, sitting down, Kathi quick to join me, her body warm against mine through

the wool of our clothing. Just having her around just then was a comfort considering what this "mission"

of ours could lead up to. It being obvious to me that we were going to try to "ransom" Sharon Duval

from some den of pirates, and that Maris wanted to be the one to take the cred- it for doing so. The fact

that none of us might come back from this "voyage" was something that I didn't think Maris had consid-

ered. Men such as these often are totally untrustworthy, and we could all end up no better off than the

Queen of Orgon herself... Assuming that the pirates bothered keeping any of us alive here!

"I had something to eat before I came aboard," Kathi said, confirming my suspicions that Carol had

quickly managed to put "2+2" together and come up with the proper answer. While she did not know

"where" we were going, I supposed my wife was not fool enough to allow Queen Maris to keep such a

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"secret" to herself...

"You're a good girl, the `best' any man could have," I said, giving her a "hug". I don't think Kathi

really "understood" then why, and it wasn't my place to tell her. She had once been the "favorite" there

on Lorraine's estate last year, and when Maris had "come" for us at the orders of First Priestess Tais,

Carol had decided to take Kathi with us as our own personal slave girl.

"You should eat more," Kathi said, giving me a smile back.

"It's best not to make love on a full stomach," I told her.

"I'll let you come first in my mouth, then you can `ride' me longer," Kathi smiled, the slave girl one

who knew her "stuff"...

I listened to the slow creak and groan of the ship as it took the long Pacific rollers, the gentle glow

through the stern windows speaking of the dawn to come. During the night we had cleared the strait,

Sandra having put the wind to good use, even to hoisting the stay sails, although I pitied the men who

had to climb up to the yards and set them here in this sort of weather. Kathi was warm and a bit "moist"

beside me, her hair a pale shad- ow there on the pillow. She was naked, wearing only her collar beneath

the blanket and comforter, her body warmth "comforting". I had "used" her well before retiring, her soft

cries of pleasure as she climaxed leaving no doubts as to her strong sexual drives. Like Carol, she was a

woman who "needed" a man's "touch" often. Back home she was a "tease", often doing little things to let

me know just what sort of "thoughts" were going through her mind... Carol having threatened more than

once to put her in a "chastity belt" just to be "sure" that she wasn't giving out her "favors"!!

Above me I could hear the footsteps of an officer, no doubt Shari, who as the "first" would be on

deck when the captain wasn't. The "second" was an older man, who had reported aboard when I had. No

doubt he'd been "selected" for his position here. I understood that he was "familiar" with the area we

were going. I understood that he was married to a "brown" woman who had once been a Scribe in

Trelandar before fleeing to Dularn years before. The term "brown" being used in this era to denote a

person of Ne- gro ancestry. Such persons are not "commonplace" in Dularn, but there is little "racial

discrimination" as such, "caste discrimi- nation" being far more commonplace here in the 26th Century

now.

I thought of Carol, wondered how she would "make out" with- out me. We've been "together" for so

long that neither of us was "comfortable" without the other. I suspected had she not been three months

pregnant Carol would be sleeping alongside me right now instead of Kathi. She was now bothered

slightly by "morning sickness", but I supposed that she could always get a woman to stay with her until I

either returned or the baby came in Septem- ber. The "implications" of the last was something I didn't

like to think about, but I supposed had to be "faced" in this matter.

"This is the first time I've had breakfast with an admiral," Sandra smiled, Shari's surprisingly green

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eyes glowing into mine. Her eye color a "contrast" to the dark walnut color of her hair. The second

officer, a Carl Cabot, sitting there watching us all. His bright red hair and craggy features made me think

of an old "Viking", which he did somewhat resemble. Kathi, like the well trained slave girl she was now

seeing that our coffee cups re- mained filled and that we lacked for nothing in the way of food. The three

midshipmen, a teenage girl of seventeen and two boys of sixteen sitting there nervously in fear of all the

"rank" here... It is not unknown for parents to send a son or daughter to sea to put an "end" to an

undesired teenage romance that is felt unwise. This is no doubt why so many girls end up as a naval

midshipman. Considering the "risks" they take, I would think twice myself of sending a daughter of

mine to sea, but I am after all not a true Dularnian and I suppose perhaps not one to judge these

matters...

"We might as well enjoy our fresh food while it lasts," I answered, well aware that all three believed

that I knew exactly "where" we were going and what our "mission" would be in those waters far up to

the north of Dularn. Icy waters where icebergs might be a far worse threat to the ship than any "enemy

action". Despite the watertight bulkheads, ice posed a considerable risk, drifting ice floes being easily

able to crush the wooden hull be- tween them if the ship was "caught" as others had been in years past.

For this reason most polar expeditions used oared galleys.

"We've just completed a refit, so the ship should be in good condition," captain Steven said, glancing

at her first officer, who nodded back in reply. The second officer sitting there studying me, while the

three midshipmen sat stiffly at attention and tried to eat at the same time, no doubt very conscious now

of their table manners. As "Admiral of the Navy" I ranked just be- low my wife, the Warlady of Dularn,

and probably was considered as being something of a "god" by such lowly beings as the three.

"You will reinforce the rigging with all the spare cordage aboard the ship, have the sailmaker and all

available hands sew reinforcing cords through the sails, and rebuild the top masts so that we can carry

small top gallants if the wind permits," I said then. "I want this ship to be able to make thirteen and a

half knots." This was a knot and a half beyond "rate" for the North Star, and would have made us one of

the swiftest vessels afloat!! The "look" there on Sandra's face was something utterly "delight- ful" to see,

not because she was "happy" about such orders, but because I think she utterly didn't know what to

"say"! "Further, as we will be using nothing but flame weapons and darts, I want all the javelins and

catapult shot now stored in the sand ballast over the keel. Then the crew of this ship will start training in

the use of the sword, the bow, and the crossbow until every man, woman, boy, girl aboard this ship has

been trained to the limits of their abilities. And when they are not practicing with weap- ons, we will

carry out sail drill, weapons drill, until the nine- ty eight people aboard this ship, including our four slave

girls, are prepared for what may occur when we reach our destination."

"It rather sounds like our destination is `HELL'," the sec- ond smiled, sipping at his coffee. Sandra

and Shari glancing at each other, while the three midshipmen just sat there "frozen"... The two boys with

frozen "grins" on their faces, while the girl, a blonde like many Dularnians, looked much like a frozen

statue. I had no doubts that she was well aware of what happened to girls her age if they got taken

captive by such men as the "Northmen"!!

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Desktop/New%20Folder/2568-02.HTM (4 of 5)14-7-2004 4:40:20

Jerome Bigge - Warlady 6 - In Harm's Way

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