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THIRTY-ONE




Lowanna followed Yotto through the dimly lit corridors of the alien ship, her senses on high alert despite the engineer’s assurances that they were safe. The air was thick with the hum of the ship’s inner workings, a low, steady pulse that resonated in her bones. Yotto had promised them sleeping arrangements in his lab, a space he insisted was secure. The team moved in a tight group, wary of the unknown dangers lurking in the depths of the Edu city.

Yotto glanced back at them, his expression calm but serious. “We’ll be safe here. My lab is well-protected, and I’ve had some of my assistants bring out items from storage that you should probably look at. They might provide us with some answers.”

Lowanna nodded, though her mind was elsewhere, still trying to process everything they had learned. The tension in the group was palpable, everyone on edge after the unsettling encounters with the Edu factions.

She also didn’t really know what to make of Gunther’s mysterious voice. On the boat she’d heard parts of what he’d said with regard to the voice trying to get him to go down under the Neshili palace to find the portal. If it were her having voices in her head telling her to do dangerous things, she’d be pretty convinced that she was going insane, so Lowanna couldn’t exactly fault the German archaeologist-turned-healer for being hesitant about admitting what he was going through.

It’s not like they could afford to have him totally go bonkers on them; his ability to heal had proven a godsend in the past and probably would be needed in the future. But the idea that the voice was now influencing the team’s decisions wasn’t sitting well with her.

How the hell could some voice in that man’s head know anything about using some alien portal? But seeing that map projected in the air and reading a numeric mark on Nesha that made some of Gunther’s crazy voice story seem less crazy. The mark implied that there had been a portal there, and they had missed it.

But did the number really imply a portal? They had seen no portal at Jebel Mudawwar, after all.

But François had reported about Kareem’s solo explorations under Nesha, explorations Kareem had told no one else about, that the young Egyptian man had found a portal.

It all fit together. In a surreal way.

She needed to talk to Marty about this. She personally suspected that if the voice had any useful data, then it had to be coming from one of the Grays . . . but could that alien be trusted? None of them could tell the difference between a good alien that was probably ambivalent about humans and one that had a craving for their iron-rich livers.

This seemed to be the dreadful thing that no one was quite saying, that the Herders saw humans as food.

As they neared the entrance to the lab, Lowanna felt something slap onto the back of her leg. Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could react, it was climbing up her body with alarming speed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, her hand instinctively going to her weapon. But then she froze, her heart racing as she found herself face-to-face with Shush the weasel. The small creature’s eyes were wide with urgency, his tiny paws gripping her shoulder as he chirped and grunted at her in rapid-fire fashion.

“Shush?” Lowanna whispered, incredulous. She had said her farewells to the furry guy back when they’d left the Neshili in their brand-new fort on the Pampas. “What are you doing here?”

The weasel continued his frantic chattering, and Lowanna’s blood ran cold.

Many of the Neshili had been captured and taken prisoner!

“What’s he doing here?” Gunther asked. “Is that the same weasel?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she processed the information. She felt her panic rising, but Lowanna forced herself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time to lose control. The Neshili were in danger, and they needed to act fast.

She turned to Marty, raising her voice. “The Neshili—”

“I heard him.” Marty stepped forward, his expression darkening. He caught up to Yotto and put his hand on the alien’s narrow shoulder. “One second, we have an issue.”

Lowanna’s heart pounded as Shush nestled against her neck, his small body trembling. Some kind of enemy had fallen on those they’d left behind and somehow this little guy found her. This wasn’t something they could do much about.

But what could they do? Sail back to the Pampas and rescue the Neshili?

Come with me and see.

Lowanna and Marty shared a look.

“I’ll go,” Marty said.


Marty crouched low, his eyes scanning the shadows as he moved through the labyrinth of tunnels that led toward the main chamber. Shush scurried ahead, the weasel’s agile body slipping through the shadows with ease. Marty’s mind raced as he tried to piece together the fragments of information they had gathered.

Marty had agreed to follow Shush, and was still trying to understand what the weasel wanted him to know.

The weasel was a surprisingly smart creature and, from what he could piece together from its account, it seemed like the Neshili had been captured and were being marched south.

Why?

If some other tribe had attacked, what sense would it make to capture anyone other than for breeding purposes? Yet Shush seemed adamant that it wasn’t just the women. It was everyone.

Marty didn't think there was a concept of ransom in the ancient world . . . maybe they needed slaves? Was there some large city between here and where the Neshili had been that the team had bypassed by going via a water route?

Or had the Neshili been taken by cannibals?

The question gnawed at him, and the more he thought about it, the more his gut twisted with dread. It didn’t make sense—unless . . . 

“They’re being herded,” he muttered to himself, the realization hitting him like a cold slap to the face. “It’s the Herders. It has to be.”

Shush stopped suddenly, his body tense as he sniffed the air. The weasel chirped softly, pointing down the corridor that led toward the trading post, and beyond it was the magma tube that led to the outside world. Marty hesitated, the icy chill of fear creeping up his spine.

“Fine,” he relented, his voice tight with tension. “But if we’re going, we need to move fast.”

They pushed forward, the narrow tunnel walls closing in around them as they approached the chamber that led to the magma tube. As they entered, Marty’s heart sank. The chamber, once filled with the bustling activity of traders and clerks, was eerily empty. The stalls were abandoned, the equipment left behind as if the Grays had vanished into thin air.

Marty had had the impression this was a place that operated at all times, but maybe not . . . 

He had agreed to follow Shush, but this was taking him dangerously close to the outside world.

“We can’t leave this place,” Marty argued quietly, glancing around nervously. “We can’t just abandon the others.”

Shush chirped softly and bolted toward the magma tube. Marty followed, his body tense with every step. It was a long ascent, but the little weasel seemed tireless as it slunk quickly toward the outside world.

It took some time, but Marty finally emerged from the tunnel into the open air, where the icy wind bit at his skin and a thick fog rolled in, partially obscuring the landscape. Night had fallen, and obscured whatever the fog might have revealed.

The area that had once been filled with tents and people from many disparate nations was now a desolate wasteland. The tents were flattened, the ground littered with debris, but there was no sign of any living creature, much less any Grays—or the Neshili.

Marty’s heart raced as he turned to Shush, who raced in a frantic circle around a tattered scrap of fur. “What happened here? Where did they go?”

The weasel chirped again, the sound almost lost in the howling wind. The Neshili are close.

“South? You mean the Neshili have been captured and are being brought here?” Marty’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of it all. Why would they capture the Neshili and march them across such a long distance? His thoughts darkened as the only plausible answer came to him—they were being led to their doom.

Rescue them, Shush said. Rescue them again. Only you can save them. Rescue them from the Hungry Dead again.

“No,” Marty said, his voice filled with resolve. “We can’t go after them now. It’s too dangerous. We’ll go now and tell the others. We’ll come back in the morning.”

Shush looked up at him, his beady eyes glistened in the moonlight, but he didn’t protest. Marty knew they had to get back and let the others know what they had discovered.

As they turned back toward the tunnel, Marty couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that hung over them like a dark cloud. The Edu had voted. Did the Herders not regard their vote as binding?

No, it was worse than that. The timing suggested that when the Herders voted, they had already sent a raiding party out to capture the Neshili. Or to capture humans, at least, and it happened to be the Neshili who were captured.

The Herders had never intended to abide by the vote.

Marty would go out again in the morning. Maybe then some answers would become evident.

The weasel rapidly climbed up his pants leg and perched on his shoulder.

Marty turned and began jogging back.

Whatever was going on, his guts were in a knot over the fate of the Neshili. He had strong suspicions and silently he prayed that he wrong. The fate of those natives was teetering on the edge of a cliff.



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