The first step was for all the pushers and the pullers at the rear of the cart to pull the vehicle slightly uphill and allow all the restraining blocks to be removed from beneath the wheels. Almost immediately upon the blocks' removal, the cart began to slowly move down the ten degree incline. The pushers dug in their heels and slowly moved backward while the pullers at the rear strained against the ropes and moved with them.

Things seemed to go well for the first few hundred yards until the slope of the hill increased dramatically. The cart picked up speed and began accelerating steadily. The pullers and pushers grunted and strained but were unable to decrease the forward momentum.

Immediately Chumley yelled loudly, "Slow!" and Frega and Thoris raised their flags halfway. The twenty brake-beasts on the ten brakes pulled firmly on their levers, driving the hard wooden blocks into the tops of the thick wooden wheels. A whining shriek filled the air as the wood ground against wood. The forward progress slowed to a manageable speed.

Chumley looked left and right of the Asherouboros' tank. To his dismay, the wheels being braked had begun smoking under the relentless friction of the brakes. Thinking quickly, he ran to the wolf manning the bellows which bubbled air into the tank and instructed him hastily. Together they reversed the hoses leading to and from the bellows, so that water was now shooting out of the hose which had originally sucked in the air. He called to one of the pullers and helped him aboard the cart, then instructed him to douse the smoldering wheels with the hose to prevent the wheels catching fire.

The strategy seemed to work. The progress down the hill was a bit faster than desired, but steady and continued at that rate for nearly a mile.

Chumley resumed his position at the head of the cart and his heart dropped. Up ahead, about a hundred yards, the road seemed to disappear. Having walked the road the previous evening he knew exactly what they were approaching. It was the point in the roadway where the incline reached nearly twenty degrees and stayed that way for nearly three miles, straight to the bottom of the pass. This was it, he thought, do or die, failure or success.

"Everyone ready!" he shouted, "We're at the edge! Mind my steering and if you feel the cart startin' to tip, jump off!"

The cart rolled inexorably toward the dip in the hill. It began moving faster and faster. The pushers and pullers did their best to hold the cart back, but it was becoming an increasingly difficult task. When the rolling platform crested the hill, it became nearly impossible. Chumley yelled "Both" and the brake-beasts put their full strength into the brake levers. The cart slowed slightly, but now that it was fully on the steeper slope, it was a self-defeating tactic. Chumley realized that if the brakes remained fully engaged, they would quickly be ground to sawdust and useless for steering.

He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. Looking right and left at his friends Frega and Thoris, a devil-may care smile spread over his face. He turned around briefly and stared at the snoozing beast in the tank.

"Well Ashy me pal, ah think it's time for a ride."

Chumley turned once more to his friends and yelled out "Slow" Frega and Thoris stared at him for a moment and both broke into wide grins. They lowered their flags halfway and the brake-beasts loosened the pressure on the wheels by half. Almost immediately the cart's speed increased and continued increasing. The pushers and pullers were soon no longer able to keep up and began to drop off, one by one, until none remained to impede the cart's forward momentum.

Soon Frega's army was fading into the distance as the cart shot headlong down the hill. Chumley focused on the road ahead, watching to see that the cart remained centered on the roadway. If the cart were to stray to the elevated sides of the road and tip in any way, it would flip and tumble, annihilating the platform and anyone on board at the time of the crash. Luckily for the crew of the wooden missile, the road was arrow straight, at least as far as Chumley could see.

The road, though appearing smooth, was scattered with small rocks and criss-crossed with small ridges and cart trails. This started the cart vibrating uncontrollably despite the great weight of the rolling platform. The wheels smoked in a billowing stream and small flames shot from the tops of the braking wheels. Water splashed furiously from the giant tank.

In an effort to stabilize the groaning, shaking cart, Chumley once more shouted "Both!" and all the wolves put the last measure of their muscle into pulling the brakes. The flames on the wheels rose higher, shooting back in the wind. The cart slowed slightly, reducing the vibration which threatened to tear it apart.

Chumley looked forward and to his horror saw the slight turn to the right which the road took several hundred yards ahead. Needing to again preserve the brakes for the upcoming turn, he shouted "Slow". Frega and Thoris, hanging on for dear life with their right paws, lowered the flags they held in their left. Speed and vibration increased as the platform rocketed toward the bend.

Chumley said a silent prayer. When he judged the instant was correct, he screamed "Right!". Frega raised his flag and the brake-beasts on the right side pulled down with all their might. The corresponding wheels slowed and the platform began sliding and skidding to the right. The water in the tank welled up and topped the left side of the enclosure, pouring over the top in a massive wave. The tank teetered briefly and threatened to tip over. Two of the left-side brake-beasts were thrown from the cart and landed violently on the road, tumbling and rolling .

The platform continued its harrowing starboard turn, tilting , shaking, and sliding. Chumley, teeth gritted, drenched with tank water and holding on to a rail desperately to keep from being tossed off, yelled at the top of his lungs, "Slow!". Frega lowered his flag and the cart straightened, dead center in the road.

Suddenly, there was a mighty lurch and the enormous platform actually bounced several feet into the air. Another brake-beast was thrown from the cart. Chumley couldn't process what had happened at first, but then he could feel the cart slowing. The bounce was the result of reaching the end on the incline. They were on a flat road once more. They were through the pass. They had succeeded.

Every beast on the cart collapsed in relief, hearts pounding like tympanis and every muscle in their bodies quivering. Frega was laying on his side and glanced over at Chumley and Thoris. Their eyes met. Thoris began chuckling, then laughing. Soon all three were chortling uncontrollably and shortly thereafter, the laughter had spread to every beast on the cart.

Chumley stood and said to no beast in particular, "Ah can't believe we made it."

Thoris and Frega stood and walked over to the exhausted rat. The wolf-king clapped him heartily on the back in joy, nearly knocking him over.
"Well done, my friend! A fine job of steering!"

"I thecond that," Thoris agreed. He hopped off the cart and walked to the side of the road, turning back for a second, "You'll have to excuthe me for a minute, I really need to throw up."

Frega and Chumley sat down, hanging their legs off the side of the cart.
"I wouldn't want to do that again," the big wolf said, "we lost three wolves off the cart, I hope they are not too seriously hurt." He swiveled around and called back to the nearest brake-beasts, "Take a few wolves with you and go back up the hill to check on our comrades!"

The nearest wolf responded immediately.
"Yes Lord, we will go straight away!" he motioned to three other Lokians and the four beasts were soon heading back up the hill.

Frega turned back toward Chumley.
"How's our passenger doing?"

Chumley craned his neck and looked at the tank. The enclosure had lost at least half its water in the plummet down the hill. The Asherouboros lay on the bottom of the tank seemingly no worse for wear. The mighty creature's back was exposed, breaching the surface of the water by a few feet. Though still asleep, it's sinewy body undulated in a gentle swimming motion.

" 'E seems awroight, 'is water's awfully low though."

Frega pointed down the road.
"There's a lake not far from here, right next to the path. As soon as we get this thing moving again, we'll have your pet covered and the tank filled."

"It's gonna be a lot cleaner water than the old feller's used to, ah 'ope 'e likes it." He laid back on the cart and stretched, " 'Ow long do ya think we got till your wolfies catch up with us?"

"Probably forty minutes or so, why?"

Chumley curled up and shut his eyes.
"Gonna take a little snooze, it why. Wake me when ya need me, mah friend."

The Lokians and Thothians arrived a half hour later. The first order of business was to arrange transport back to Thoth for the three injured wolves. The two who had fallen first were the most severely injured, suffering multiple broken bones, the Lokian who had been thrown from the cart during the turn was seriously lacerated and had sustained a fractured leg. Six of the moose were assigned as litter-bearers to transport the wounded beasts back to Thoth for treatment.

When everyone was well recovered, the cart was once again manned. A short jaunt up the road brought the platform to rest next to a small lake. The going was a bit more strenuous than before owing to the damage sustained by all the wheels which had been subject to braking. The combination of fire and stress from the braking blocks had warped, ground down, and in several cases, shattered the thick wooden wheels.

It was a credit to the beasts who had manufactured the cart that just such an contingency had been planned for. To the rear of the cart, butted up against the rear of the tank as a restraint, a large wooden shed, ten foot square, had been erected, containing replacement wheels, braking blocks and other implements that were thought might be useful in various emergency situations.

Thoris took charge of the repair crew and Chumley went about figuring out how to refill the tank. When the wheels and blocks were removed from the shed, Thoris called his friend over. A look of relief and joy crossed the rat's face. There on the back wall of the repair shed were two reciprocating see-saw pumps and four sets of thick, six-inch wide, coiled hoses to accommodate them. Chumley quickly saw to setting these implements up, draping one set of hoses from the pumps into the tank and the other sets into the lake. Frega assigned several pairs of wolves to do the pumping and soon the cart was a flurry of activity with the tank being filled and the damaged cart repaired.

Filling the tank was a slow process. It was many hours later when the water had reached its original level. A consequence of the refill was that that murky, milky, and nearly opaque water of the Circe Sea had become significantly diluted by the clear lake water. Rather than the brown-green soup that had originally surrounded the Asherouboros, the tank now stood filled with a transparent lime-green fluid.

The beast was now visible in its full glory, nose to tail. It began to stir in fits and starts. It jerked this way and that. The Asherouboros was awakening!

Chumley quickly made his way to the front of the tank, concerned that the change in the water may have harmed the creature. He pressed his face against the glass and looked deeply at the monstrous visage. Its eyes were still closed, but its mighty mouth was open wide, revealing the rows of razor-sharp, two foot long teeth. The rat shuddered unconsciously, remembering his first encounter with the monster, when it had used those very teeth to pierce his side.

It began to shake its head, as though attempting to throw off some invisible restraints. The undulating, swimming motion that the beast had begun hours earlier, increased in amplitude and frequency. Water began to spill from the top of the tank as the beast's sides powerfully pounded its glass walls. Every Lokian and Thothian stepped back, fearing the tank would burst. Every beast but Chumley, who continued to stare intently at the Asherouboros, concerned with the well-being of this tortured and troubled anomaly of nature. He watched it snap it's jaw open and shut. The creature's swimming motion pressed its massive head against the forward glass, centimeters from Chumley's face on the other side . And then its eyes opened.

The Asherouboros had been dreaming since it first consumed the Xezee potion. It was a mixed blessing for the mighty beast. At first it dreamt of flying, riding the clouds over places it had never been, seeing sights it had never imagined. The beast experienced feelings it could not fathom. Then the dreams became darker. It could feel the presence, the dark entity that had begun to haunt it in the Circe Sea. It saw the thing, malignant and threatening, in the distant darkness of the west. The black form writhed and slithered, turning the green fields black. It reached skyward entangling the soaring Asherouboros, invading and restricting it. The beast could feel the cold touch of its evil, the imprisoning grasp, the slime encrusted arms crushing joy from the Asherouboros' bosom. Anger filled the great creature's heart as it struggled to free itself, to fight the horror that threatened it. It lashed out, it bit and tore, it roared and struggled and then...it opened its eyes to see the concerned face of the odd little rat which had befriended it. It stopped its tantrum, frozen in confusion and relief.

Chumley jerked back briefly when the Asherouboros opened his eyes, but he wasn't scared. He looked deeply into the creature's good eye, the size of a large dinner plate. He could see the confusion and disorientation, but he could see something else as well, recognition.

Chumley noted the calm that quickly washed over the mighty beast and a smile played on the rat's face. He pressed his paw against the glass and to his immense joy, the creature's muscular tongue snaked out of its mouth and gently licked the glass.

" 'Allo, old pal," Chumley said gently, "welcome back to the world o' the livin'. Don't you fret now, ah'm gonna see you got everything yah need, ain't ah? We got some nice smelly fish for yah, ah'm bettin' you're feelin' pretty peckish after your nap, ain't yah? Now just stay calm and we'll get yah to a new 'ome, real big and clean compared to where yah been the last thousand years or so. Ah think you'll like it, change o' scenery'll do yah good, won't it?"

He stepped back from the tank and motioned Thoris over. The weasel carefully approached. Chumley draped his arm over Thoris' shoulder and patted him on the chest while continuing to address the Asherouboros, "This is mah buddy Thoris, 'e's fed yah a few times 'imself 'e 'as. You can trust him."

Thoris waved meekly at the monster.
"Pleathed to meet you," he turned to Chumley, "can he underthtand uth? Can he even hear uth?"

"Got no idea, do ah? No 'arm in tryin' is there?

"I thuppoth not. Should we feed him?" Thoris said still staring with fascination at the legendary creature.

"Yah, let's give 'im a nice meal, shall we?"

The Asherouboros was famished. Chumley, with Thoris' help, lowered fully a dozen large sacks of fish into the front of the tank, which the monster happily consumed. While the creature was enjoying his meal, the repairs to the cart were completed. Frega deployed his wolves and the moose and reindeer returned to their originally assigned positions, harnessed to the front of the cart. As soon as the feeding was completed, the order to proceed was given and the caravan continued on it's adventure northward.

Now fed and reassured by Chumley's presence, the Asherouboros took on a calm demeanor, taking in the sights of the countryside and paying particular attention to the comings and goings of the beasts accompanying the cart to World's End.

Chumley took to spending most of his time directly in front of the tank, even relocating his straw mat there so he could sleep in the creature's view.

As the deeply golden sun set over the Misery Mountains, the Asherouboros and his entourage wound their way over the wide gravel-strewn path toward the Northern Sea. A sense of optimism pervaded among the beasts on the mission. It was smooth sailing to World's End. After that, the true labors would begin.