Deep in the Tower of the Moon, among the Hills of Arniak, dwelt the beautiful and sensuous Tara. And with Chanthu the Sorcerer, Zarlic the metal man, and Khaldur the great golden cat as her tutors, she grew wise and swift, skilled and strong. The slim, sweet lines of her silk-smooth body concealed strengths like coiled steel springs. Though she could leap like a leopard, run like the wind, swim the foaming torrents, and right, fight, and swear like a man—Tara was all woman! Her long, shapely, coltish legs slid into the delicious, warm curve of hips, and her breasts were full, firm, and wonderfully soft. But Tara was raised to be a fighting woman, not some man's pampered pet and plaything. For she had pledged herself a War Maid, a virgin swordswoman sworn to the Moon. She would journey to Twilight to search for the secret of her birth and the sword of her dream. Her life would be the long road and the open sky, the flash of naked steel and the hot spurt of fresh gore!