Back | Next
Contents

decorative symbolCHAPTER decorative symbol
ELEVEN




Gunther stood at the edge of the temple complex, gazing out over the horizon. The setting sun cast an orange glow over the ancient stone structures, but something felt off. Get Lowanna and take her outside.

The world tilted as the voice echoed loudly in his head.

He barely caught himself as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The voice was up there still, almost as if it was a tangible presence looming over him . . . his head filled with static, and even though he couldn’t hear what the voice said afterward, Gunther felt the compulsion.

His mind raced back across the centuries and millennia to a different time. He was in the German military for a short period, and he felt the command rattling around in his head no differently than were it given to him by his superior officer.

With his heart racing, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the palace, searching for Lowanna. He found her in the central chamber, by herself, snacking on a piece of fruit.

“Lowanna,” he panted, grabbing her arm. “We need to go. Now.”

She looked up, startled, her eyes distant and withdrawn. “Gunther, what’s going on?”

“No time to explain. Trust me.” He pulled her along, and his gait faltered as he realized he was marching to a set of orders he couldn’t explain. Some voice whose origin was a complete mystery had commanded him to do something, and he was doing it. Somehow, he knew there was no time for question his own sanity . . . something was wrong. He felt it in his bones.

They found Surjan nearby, talking with some of the elders.

“Surjan, we need your help,” Gunther urged, his voice tinged with barely controlled panic. “There’s something outside . . .”

Surjan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the German archaeologist-turned-healer, frowned, but gave him a curt nod. He followed without question.

They ran outside, and as they reached the courtyard gate, they saw it: the Neshili city below the temple complex was flooding. The ocean had encroached, and water was rising rapidly, submerging the lowest parts of the city.

“My God,” Lowanna breathed, her detachment momentarily breaking. “The people down there . . . is it some kind of tidal wave? We have to help them.”

Without another word, they dashed down the ancient paths leading to the city. Neshili were already in a panic, scrambling to save their belongings and loved ones. Gunther uncharacteristically took charge, his military training kicking in.

“Everyone, move to higher ground!” he shouted. “Leave your things! Save yourselves!”

“This is your king!” Surjan yelled, his voice booming with authority. “Do as the healer says, get to higher ground, now!”

Lowanna ran to a group of children huddled together, their eyes wide with fear. She scooped up the youngest in her arms and beckoned the others to follow. “Come with me! I’ll keep you safe!” Her voice was gentle, though she remained withdrawn from the people around her, focusing intently on the task at hand.

Surjan rallied a group of men to help herd livestock to safety. “Get the animals to the temple! They’ll be safe up there!” he commanded, leading the charge.

Gunther waded through waist-deep water to reach an elderly couple struggling to stay afloat. “Hold on!” he shouted, grabbing their hands and pulling them to higher ground. He glanced back and saw the water rising faster than he’d anticipated, fueled by a relentless surge from the ocean.

Some unseen barrier must have burst or maybe it was a giant ice shelf collapsing, causing the unanticipated surge from an unfathomable distance. But could that be right? How much ice would have to melt, all at once, to cause the ocean levels to rise noticeably?

To Gunther, the world seemed to move in slow motion.

He was aware of the sounds all around him, as if his hearing acuity had suddenly been boosted by some strange force.

Had he gained a level . . . ? In this place, he hadn’t seen any of the strange globes of light they’d absorbed back in Egypt, yet that moment of overwhelming dizziness felt familiar.

He’d been through this several times before. He glanced over at Lowanna as she ripped away the woven entrance from a hut.

Lowanna, drenched and determined, moved from house to house, ensuring no one was left behind. She found a young mother clutching her baby, too scared to move. “It’s okay,” Lowanna said softly, wrapping an arm around her. “We’ll get through this together.” She’d always seemed more comfortable with the animals than some of the members of the team, but her compassion clearly extended to the terrified villagers.

As the fleeing Neshili reached the temple steps, Gunther noticed a trapped llama, bleating desperately from a makeshift pen. Without hesitation, he dashed back, untangling the terrified animal and guiding it to safety.

Surjan and his group managed to secure most of the livestock, but the water was relentless. “We need to hurry!” he yelled over the roar of the encroaching ocean.

Gunther, Lowanna, and Surjan formed a human chain, guiding the Neshili up the hill to safety. The temple grounds filled with frightened but relieved faces, huddled together and watching as their city below was swallowed by the sea.

Exhausted and soaked, Lowanna looked at Gunther. “You saved all of these people.”

Gunther shook his head, breathless. “I can’t really take the credit.” He panned his gaze at everyone shuffling nearby and knew this wasn’t the time to talk about the voices in his head. “I just sensed something was wrong out here. I’m just glad I listened.”

“Nonsense.” Surjan clapped a hand on Gunther’s shoulder. “You saved many lives today. We all did.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a red hue over the scene. Much of the Neshili city within sight of the palace grounds was now a watery grave.

Suddenly, yelling erupted in the distance.

A group of Neshili warriors scrambled up the hill yelling, “The village over the ridge is drowning! There’s chaos at the docks!”

Before anyone could do anything, Lowanna darted toward the ridge directly west of them as she yelled, “Don’t just stand there, lead them to higher ground!”


Lowanna’s heart pounded as she sprinted through the second village, the air thick with the smell of salt and the distant roar of encroaching waves. The island was sinking, or perhaps the water was rising—either way, the situation was dire. She reached the fisherman’s hut, where Sharrum, one of the Neshili warriors, was already helping Muwat, the now no-longer-blind fisherman who’d previously hosted them.

“Lady Lowanna, over here!” Sharrum called, his voice carrying over the chaos.

Lowanna rushed to his side. Muwat blinked as if he’d just been woken up. He had arms looped over the shoulder of his two daughters, Telpi and Yaru, who looked equally terrified. His wife, Zidna, was being helped by their son, Arnun. Nearby, Shush the weasel darted about, sensing the urgency as he climbed up onto the old man’s shoulder and chittered at her. The water sneaky. No like it.

Ignoring the weasel’s complaints, Lowanna turned to the soldiers who were trying to help. “There’s not enough space on the temple grounds or the palace. We need to get these people to the boats.” Lowanna grabbed Muwat’s arm. “Come on, we have to move quickly.”

With the soldiers’ help, they guided Muwat and his family, along with a flock of other Neshili, toward the stone pier where the boats hopefully remained moored. The ground shook, sending a fresh wave of panic through the villagers.

An earthquake?

Lowanna’s eyes widened as she stared at a large object in the distance.

Past the stone dock where the boats rested was a mountain of ice rising at least one hundred feet into the air.

She knew that what she saw was only a minor part of the colossal chunk of glacier that had just slammed into the island, temporarily blocking the rushing water.

“Get to the boats!” Lowanna yelled. “People will be safe on there while we gather everyone!”

One of the villagers cried out, “But our food, the llamas are—”

“Get to safety, I’ll see what we can do about the livestock!”

Lowanna’s mind raced. She knew that the llamas were a key source of protein for the community that was now scattered and scared.

Lowanna noticed Sharrum nearby and said, “I need to find the llamas.”

Sharrum frowned. “They have certainly drowned or scattered in all directions. How can you—”

“I can find them!” Lowanna closed her eyes to focus.

“If you find them, I will help gather the stubborn creatures.”

With her eyes closed, Lowanna imagined herself looking inward, tapping at something she didn’t understand, but knew was there. It was a source of some form of consciousness that until they’d started this crazy adventure, she hadn’t believed existed.

Now, as the world around her faded, she felt a connection forming.

A nest of invisible threads shot out from within that place inside her. In her mind’s eye she sensed where each thread weaved outward, almost as if her eyes were at the head of the filament scouring the land for the lost animals.

Lowanna’s eyes shot open as she felt the pull of the creatures, huddled in a mass, scared and unsure of what was happening.

She turned and ran, her feet sloshing in mud as she followed the invisible thread connecting her to the animals.

The warrior’s feet thudded heavily behind her as she raced up a slope, into a copse of trees that gave way to a sheltered grove.

It was there that she found a herd of nearly three dozen llamas, their eyes wide with fear.

Sharrum’s heavy footsteps clambered up the slope.

. . . bad water . . . 

Afraid . . . 

Strange woman . . . 

She helps us?

Lowanna understood the nickering voices of the llamas as if they were toddlers speaking broken English.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice calm and soothing. “We need to get to the boats. You’ll be safe, I promise.” Lowanna felt a warm camaraderie with the animals as they responded with flicks of their tails and ears, each of which spoke to her.

“Be careful, they’re dumb, strong creatures and can easily—”

“Shut up,” Lowanna cut him off, waving dismissively at the spearman as she motioned to the nearest of the beasts. “Come, follow me.”

She turned and began walking down the slope, all the while motioning for the llamas to follow.

Sharrum’s eyes widened as the herd of animals began walking nose-to-tail, following Lowanna as if she were their mother. “What kind of magic do you possess for such a thing to be possible?”

Lowanna led them carefully, her senses alert to the shifting ground and rising water.

Sharrum raced ahead and as they approached the docks, he pointed at some of the nearest and largest boats. “These are set up for livestock.”

Lowanna urged the llamas forward, guiding them onto the boats where some of the villagers were already helping to secure them.

She spotted Muwat and his family huddled together on the far end of one of the large boats, relief evident on their faces. A blur of motion streaked toward her and she laughed as Shush the weasel hopped up onto her tunic, scrambled up onto her shoulder, and chattered incessantly about the height of the waves and the depth of the water.

Lowanna stroked his thick fur and whispered, “I have to get back to the others. You’ll be safe.”

“The ice is blocking the channel out to the sea,” one of the men announced as he scrambled down from one of the boat’s masts, then began shouting orders at the crew members. “Loosen the ropes! We don’t know how long the ice will hold the water, but we don’t want to be tied to the dock when the water rises higher.”

Lowanna scanned the horizon and, despite the setting of the sun, she could see clearly enough that the iceberg was literally acting at a temporary dam for the rising water. When it was inevitably dislodged, chaos would reign over Nesha.


Gunther’s hands moved swiftly, his military training guiding him as he bandaged the wounds of the injured Neshili. He’d long ago exhausted whatever preternatural healing powers he’d had and was having to resort to conventional first aid, working on the ground in the temple courtyard. Beside him, François assisted, holding supplies and following Gunther’s terse instructions.

“Apply pressure here,” Gunther directed, pointing to a deep gash on a man’s leg. François nodded, pressing a relatively clean cloth against the wound.

The scene around them was chaotic. Adults shouted, children cried, and the sound of rushing water grew louder. The ocean’s relentless advance was swallowing the lower parts of the island.

And if the island was flooding, what was happening to the catacombs beneath the palace? And might the Grays come swarming out of the wells, forced by the waves? But Surjan had set spearmen to all the catacomb’s exits, and Gunther tried to believe they would contain the problem, if it arose.

Luckily, most of the Neshili’s injuries were relatively minor. He’d managed to heal a few obviously broken arms, which had exhausted him, and the rest were a large selection of cuts and bruises that would heal in time.

“What about Inara Village?” a woman screamed, her eyes wide with fear. “They need help too!”

Gunther looked up. “Which way is Inara?” he asked.

The woman pointed.

Gunther handed a wad of bandages to François. “We can’t leave anyone behind. François, stay here and keep helping the injured. I need to find Marty.”

François nodded, already moving to the next patient. Gunther stood and scanned the crowd, spotting Marty and Surjan organizing a group near the docks. He pushed through the throng of people, urgency driving him forward.

“Marty!” Gunther called out, grabbing his attention. “We need to rescue Inara Village. They’re probably in a world of hurt.”

Marty’s face hardened with resolve and he turned to Surjan, whispered something to him.

The large Sikh snapped his fingers at the nearby villagers and spoke out loudly, “Marty, gather a team. We’re heading to Inara.”

Marty nodded, quickly rallying a group of able-bodied Neshili. “Everyone, follow us. Bring whatever you can to help—boats, ropes, anything.”

Gunther raced after them as the group moved swiftly, adrenaline fueling their steps as they headed toward the path leading up the coast to Inara Village. The rising water made the journey treacherous, and they had to wade through knee-deep currents, but they pressed on, driven by the cries for help that grew louder as they neared the village.

When they arrived, the scene was worse than Gunther had imagined. Homes were partially submerged, and people clung to rooftops and trees, desperately trying to stay above the water. Surjan shouted instructions, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“Get the boats closer! We need to start evacuating them now!”

Surjan led the way, helping an elderly woman down from a roof and into a waiting boat. “We’ll get you to safety,” he assured her. “Just hold on.”

Gunther and Marty worked together, pulling people from the floodwaters and guiding them to the boats. The Neshili warriors, strong and determined, moved swiftly, saving as many as they could.

A child’s cry caught Gunther’s attention. He turned to see a young boy clinging to a piece of driftwood, his eyes wide with terror. Surjan saw the boy, too, and didn’t hesitate. He plunged into the deeper water, swimming to the child and lifting him onto his shoulders.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “I’ve got you.”

They moved methodically, ensuring no one was left behind. The few small boats they’d carried to the village filled quickly, each one making trips back to the main docks where rescue and organization efforts were underway.

As the last of the villagers were evacuated, Surjan looked around, ensuring no one remained. Satisfied, he signaled to the others, and they began the final trek back to either the docks or higher ground.

When they arrived, exhausted but triumphant, the Neshili cheered.

Many of the Neshili clapped Surjan’s back and smiled. Others cheered. “Surjan! Our Lion King!”

It was a miracle that none of the villagers had died in the flooding, although several llamas had perished, and were being cooked for the villagers’ consumption.

As night fell, the island’s survivors huddled together, their spirits bolstered for the moment by the large fires and full bellies.

The water had temporarily stopped rising, and tomorrow would bring some decisions.

Gunther still had a nagging feeling of concern as he watched the campfires crackle and a llama turning on a spit.



Back | Next
Framed