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THIRTY-SEVEN




Marty hovered over Lowanna as she groaned, drifting in and out of consciousness. He cupped her cheek with a callused hand and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’d say ‘ouch,’” Lowanna muttered through gritted teeth, “but that seems a bit cliché.”

“Embrace the cliché,” Marty replied. “I, for one, could use a little familiarity in my life right now.”

He pulled at the rocks around Lowanna’s legs. He was afraid her bones were crushed. At least he wasn’t seeing spurting blood. She also lay in icy water, which was pooling around as he dug her out from the pile of rocks.

Surjan knelt to help with the rocks. “That fire of mine may have been too much,” the Sikh grunted. “We may in the end be suffocated to death by that little distraction.”

“Gunther!” Marty yelled.

Surjan pulled aside the last rock and then stood. Wordlessly, he returned to the fight as Gunther arrived.

“Her legs might be broken,” Marty said.

“I got this, Marty,” Gunther said as he crouched by Lowanna’s side.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” Marty asked.

The archaeologist-turned-healer grinned at Marty and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got this, you go kung fu somebody for me.”

Marty left her in Gunther’s care. He ran through the chamber that had once held the city’s human-facing health clinic. Now it seemed to him more like a veterinary clinic. But the side tunnels were both collapsed, and a chunk of ceiling had fallen down in the middle of the room, creating a cairnlike pillar that reached all the way to the top of the cavern.

Water was gushing in through various cracks in the ceiling, spraying everywhere as the runoff flowed into the magma tube.

Marty emerged into the city and found that it was growing dark. The fissure in the ice above showed a patch of dull blue sky sliding into navy. Light came from phosphorescent streaks painted on many surfaces. He hadn’t had occasion to notice them before, but the city had activated streetlights and lamps affixed over some exterior doors. Possibly from the setting off of the security alarm?

The destruction in the tunnel had also wreaked havoc in the city near it, and had changed the battlefield. Chunks of stone and ice as large as kitchen appliances lay strewn about the mouth of the magma tube. If Marty’s team had principally been armed with projectile weapons—François’s bowmen, or the archers and slingers of an earlier campaign—the rubble would have created wonderful cover. Instead, it created a battlefield like an ice-and-stone maze.

They needed a clear route to the vessel. The smoke in the air made his eyes water, but Marty could still see the flying saucer up on top of the canyon wall, and he knew the road he’d taken to get there with Yotto.

The orange flicker of flames was uncomfortably close to the vessel.

“We should move now!” he barked in English, then slid along the path toward the vessel.

Two Grays leaped at him from an unseen perch atop a boulder. He heard a faint creak before they moved and he was ready for the attack. Taking a long step back, he let them land on the hard stone rather than on him. One landed with a yelp and skewed sideways, leaning on a boulder. The other landed on his feet but wobbled.

Marty kicked the wobbler in the center of his chest, throwing the Gray staggering thirty feet away. In the precious seconds gained, Marty attacked the other Gray struggling to rise from the boulder. He slammed the alien against the stone twice, then swept his feet out from under him.

The Gray dropped to the stone floor and lay flat.

The first Gray charged raggedly back, and he had a long knife in his hand. As the Gray closed in, Marty felt a third attacker circling at him around a boulder to his left with an upraised club, and a fourth leaped from atop a chunk of ice to his right. Marty sprang forward, catching the knife-wielder by surprise and grabbing his knife hand by the wrist.

Then he turned and fought with the knife. He stood behind the Gray and maneuvered him like a marionette, keeping him off-balance with long lunges and stagger-step sideways maneuvers. He drove the ice-jumper back with a series of attacks and then spun the knife-wielder sideways into the Gray with the club.

He leaped and spun, dropping the unengaged Gray with a kick to the jaw. Then he seized the knife fighter again, ducked beneath one attack of the club, sidestepped a second, and finally killed the club-wielder with a knife to the sternum right as the club-wielder cracked his cudgel down on top of the knife-fighter’s skull, smashing it open and killing him instantly.

Marty tossed both corpses aside. “Gunther!”

“Coming!” The German emerged from the magma-tube opening. Lowanna walked gingerly, gripping his arm for a little support, but she walked.

And as she did so, she unloaded her sling from her tunic pocket. “Rocks,” Marty heard her say.

Gunther began scooping large pebbles off the ground and handing them to her. She put one in the pocket of her sling and filled the pocket of her tunic with the rest. She met Marty’s gaze and grinned.

“Let’s go!” she called. “Next stop: Anywhere but here!”

She abruptly spun her sling about and let fly. Marty turned as the rock whizzed past his ear, just in time to see it strike a Gray in the forehead, dropping him like a felled tree.

Surjan reappeared, bloodied spear in his hands.

François followed, gripped a long-shafted spear. “Has anyone spotted Kareem?”

Marty hadn’t, and the last time he’d seen the young Egyptian, he’d looked angry. “Keep an eye out for him. But let’s get to the vessel.” He pointed up the appropriate side canyon. “That’s the way.”

Surjan and François took point. Two Grays with knives charged almost immediately from behind a rock, and Surjan swung his spear sideways, slicing with the blade through both their throats in one motion.

“Kareem!” François yelled in French. “Where are you? If you can’t reach us, head for the vessel!”

Where had Yotto and the Farmers on their side gone? Were they crushed under the fallen rock, or had they fled when the tunnel had collapsed?

Marty waved Gunther and François past, so that he could take up the rear. Gunther looked exhausted but happy. Like a woman who had just given birth, Marty thought incongruously. Lowanna seemed to increase in strength and vitality every time she let a slingstone fly. It wasn’t a mean streak in her character, exactly, but maybe a competitive streak, or a desire to assert herself. So she asserted herself left and right against the Edu Herders, and her grin got wider as each assertee fell.

Marty’s job was easy. His senses were getting sharper, especially his sixth sense. That made it sound psychic, and it wasn’t. Anyone can sense the chi of another person, Grandpa Chang had told him many times. He only has to learn to try.

Marty hadn’t been especially good at sensing other people’s chi in his academic life or as the owner of a woodworking shop. But it had become easier and easier for him since he’d started time traveling, and especially since coming to Nesha.

So he walked at the rear of the party, separated from Lowanna and Gunther by as much as a hundred feet, and just relaxed. He breathed deeply, released the conscious part of his mind, and trusted to his muscles. His legs carried him forward on their own.

And he felt Herder warriors approach.

When one threw a spear at him from behind, Marty felt the attack coming. He turned, stepped to the side, and caught the spear as it passed. Continuing his motion, he threw the spear through the chest of the Gray who had attacked him with it. The Gray sank to his knees with an open mouth and then fell over backward.

A second leaped down from a boulder with a hooked scimitar in his hand. Marty felt him coming and stepped into the attack. He grabbed the attacker’s ankle lightly and tugged, sending the Gray spinning forward with a shrill yelp that ended when he planted face-first on the stone ground.

A third threw stones from a window overhead and Marty caught them. A fourth slashed at his feet with a spear and Marty stepped on the shaft, snapping it. A fifth rushed forward shrieking, jaws gaped wide to bite Marty, and was tapped in the larynx, knocking him down with a single blow.

Marty reached the canyon below the vessel, where the others stood waiting for him.

“No sign of Kareem,” François said.

“He’ll make it,” Marty said. “Of all of us, he’s the most suited for this environment.”

“Maybe not in a good way,” François pointed out.

“Hurry.” Gunther pointed at the vessel. “The fire is getting closer to the ship and our way out.”

Marty eyed the climb and the surrounding canyon walls. They’d be exposed to hostile fire from any Herders hidden in any of hundreds of windows. He looked back and forth between Lowanna and Gunther and said, “Between the two of you, since getting to the ship is going to expose us all—do either of you have anything in your bag of tricks that’ll maybe help in any way?”

“You mean like how I toughened my skin in that fight against Halpa’s cannibal friends?” Lowanna asked.

“Yeah, you ended up almost looking like you were armored with tree bark or something when you did that. Can you replay the trick on yourself, and maybe on Gunther, if that’s possible? As long as you two are in good shape, you can heal the rest of us if we get an ouchie.”

“As much as I don’t like the thought of getting hit with a thrown spear,” François said, “I concur.”

Lowanna looked over at Gunther and asked, “You up for this?”

Gunther had an uncertain expression but he nodded.

Marty watched as Lowanna placed her hand gently on Gunther’s shoulder. The moment her fingers made contact, something extraordinary began to happen. The skin beneath her touch started to change, the soft texture of flesh shifting into something far more resilient. It was as if the very essence of the forest had seeped into them, turning their skin into a tough, barklike surface.

The transformation spread from Lowanna’s hand, creeping across Gunther’s shoulder and down his arm, the smooth surface giving way to a rough, textured layer that resembled the ancient trees of the deep woods. It wasn’t just a visual change—Marty could almost feel the protective energy radiating from them, a living armor that pulsed with the vitality of the earth itself.

Lowanna’s own skin mirrored the change, her arm adopting the same rugged texture, as if the spell had intertwined their fates for a moment, binding them in a shared shield of nature’s strength. The air around them seemed to thrum with power, as if the earth had lent them its ancient endurance.

Marty couldn’t help but stare in awe as the transformation was completed, the two of them standing together—the change was dramatic to say the least.

“Okay, gather ’round.” Gunther motioned for everyone to come closer. “I think I might be able to do a little something for us all.”

Marty watched as Gunther stepped forward, his usually calm demeanor shifting into one of intense focus. The air around him seemed to thrum with a quiet, palpable energy, as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath. Gunther clasped his hands together, and a soft, warm light began to glow between them, growing brighter with each passing moment. The light was not harsh or blinding, but soothing, like the first rays of dawn breaking over a quiet field.

As Gunther raised his hands, the light spread outward in a gentle wave, washing over each member of the team. Marty felt the warmth seep into his skin, infusing him with a sense of calm and quiet strength. His heartbeat steadied, and the weariness in his limbs seemed to fade away, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and resolve. He glanced at the others and saw the same light reflected in their eyes, a quiet determination and confidence settling over them like a well-worn cloak.

Gunther, too, seemed transformed. The lines of tension in his face softened, and a serene expression took their place, as if he was the conduit for something far greater than himself. The glow surrounding him faded, but the feeling it left behind lingered, like the echo of a distant hymn.

Marty couldn’t help but marvel at the change. It was as though Gunther had reached into the very essence of their spirits and bolstered them, not just with strength, but with hope. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together, supported by the quiet power that Gunther had summoned. He blinked for a moment and then it dawned on him that time wasn’t standing still.

“Okay, let’s go!” Marty shooed his people up the steps.

As they climbed, he could see through a thick veil of oily smoke what was happening with the Farmers. They had fallen back and were defending various points—Yotto’s laboratory, for one, and the machines room, for another. Marty looked, but didn’t see Yotto in either place.

Grays who had to be Herders attacked the Farmers. More Grays filed up a steep canyon with ropes and picks. They seemed to be headed for the ice wall, to try to climb out. And a swarm of Grays, thicker than he had realized, converged on Marty’s own tail. They threw spears and threw or slung stones, which he found he could easily deflect, even when the missiles came two or three at a time.

Lowanna and Gunther didn’t have his ability to dodge and deflect, so they took a few hits. With their thickened, barklike hides, they didn’t even slow down.

Marty felt an ambush ahead and above. Pivoting, he saw Surjan turning the corner into a narrow defile that led up to the stranded flying saucer. The Sikh and François, at his shoulder, were focused on the stairs in front of them, where apparently they confronted some enemy Marty couldn’t see.

What Surjan and François couldn’t see was the row of three windows above them, and from each window leaned two Grays with javelins in their hands.

“Lowanna!” Marty shouted.

Then he ran up the wall. Old as the rock was, it wasn’t perfectly smooth, and his fingers and toes found easy purchase. Again, he released his conscious mind and let his body and spirit find the way. He leaped into an open window and then dove forward, tapping with the balls of his feet on the tops of the first two Grays’ heads as if he was crossing a stream on stepping stones. With shrill cries, the Grays tumbled down into the canyon. One hit the ledge between Gunther and Lowanna and lay groaning and arching his back. The other struck the edge of the walkway and bounced off, disappearing into the deeper canyon below.

Marty kept moving. He knew this was impossible, he was performing feats like the hero in an over-the-top Wuxia film, but he was performing them. Was he somehow enhanced by what Gunther had done? Was this the result of the nanites Yotto had found in his blood? Was this good evidence that he and the rest of the team were living in a simulation?

But he kept the part of his mind that processed those thoughts relaxed, subdued, quiet, and locked away.

He dropped between the next two Grays, just as they raised their weapons to attack. He grabbed them both by the neck, yanking them down. Their javelins flew off into space uselessly and they lunged forward, fighting to regain their balance. Marty planted his feet against the wall, tugged the two Grays down, and flipped back up again. He spun and landed on his feet, crouching in the window just as they left it, tumbling forward and screaming.

The two remaining Grays released their javelins. One took a stone to the temple from Lowanna as he released; his dart and his body scraped against the wall as he fell. But the last Gray sank his javelin into François’s shoulder.

From his high position, Marty saw a knot of Grays on the stairs above Surjan. The Sikh advanced on them with his spear from below, but on the stairs above them, they also faced a handful of Grays wearing linen scarves tied around their necks, Grays who were awkwardly trying both to fight the fire and hold the stairs.

Marty sprang into the last window, snatched up the startled Gray who remained, and hurled him into the knot of Herder warriors just as Surjan charged. Then he raced down the wall into the ravine, where he picked up two javelins. Plunging into the battle behind Surjan, he stabbed left and right, defending the Sikh’s flank, dispatching Grays who wanted to stab him in the back, and running the Herders over completely.

Once the knot was gone, he left Surjan to greet the Farmers and ran back down the stairs. François sat leaning against the stone, his tunic soaked in blood, his face pale as soap. He coughed and spat blood all down his chest.

“Fatal,” François gasped, spitting more blood. “Neshili escaped. A price I can gladly pay.”

“Unacceptable,” Marty said. “Watch the stairs,” he told Lowanna. She put a stone into the pocket of her sling, nodded, and stepped down the stairs.

To Gunther, Marty said, “I’ll pull on three, you heal him.”

“If I can,” Gunther murmured.

“You can, damn your eyes.” Marty gripped the javelin. “One . . . Two . . . Three!”





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