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SIXTEEN




The last of the fires was extinguished and the storm slackened, without entirely ceasing. François rubbed rain from his eyes and surveyed the damage.

Surjan stood on the largest dock, barking orders to the nearby natives. The survivors from the ship that had fled but sank had been gathered up and were being held at spearpoint. Fishermen inventoried the damage done and the repairs needed to the ships left behind. Houses had been torched in the town, and François had heard that someone had set fire to the palace, too, though he couldn’t see fire damage that far away in the darkness.

The water levels had risen so that it was practically even with the surface of the docks. Many of the people’s homes were now claimed by the ocean floods, and there was a palpable fear among the Neshili about what was about to happen.

François shifted his thoughts to their prior threat, the Grays . . . They had taken a back seat given the immediate dangers presented by the flooding and the fires that followed. Had the Grays drowned in their underground world? Had they suffered any damage or casualties? Or had they taken the opportunity to slink from hiding and snatch vulnerable humans for their grim repast, and in chaos nobody had yet noticed?

A group of old women had been deputized to count noses and compare reports to determine who had gone with the queen, who had died in the fires, and who was unaccounted for. They went from house to house in pairs, conferring with each other in the crooked intersections.

A man tugged at François’s elbow. “Forgive me, but you are the king’s herald, are you not?”

François examined the newcomer. He had a complexion the color of chalk and linen, and he drooped, from top to bottom: nose, gold-ringed ears, his shoulders—his entire body seemed on the verge of dissolving into a puddle on the spot. His tunic was dyed a gentle brown. François had seen him before.

“You’re one of the priests,” he said. “You didn’t leave with the queen. What’s your name, Kazoo or something, no?”

“Kazap. I didn’t leave with the others and I had no knowledge of their plan to depart,” the priest said. “Very few of us did. I have been accounting for my brethren, and it seems that I am the senior priest of the temple now.”

“Priests don’t have to lurk at night in the Sacred Grove, waiting for a stranger to come attack them, to determine who’s in charge, I guess?” François chuckled.

Kazap inclined his head. “I am not the king. But I must speak with the king, and he will want to speak with me. Will you help me get his ear?”

François knew when he was being offered authority. He led Kazap past Sharrum and another warrior standing guard and out onto the dock, where the rest of the party had gathered. Lowanna leaned on Gunther’s arm and moved gingerly. With Kazap came a young woman in a yellow tunic, with a yellow shawl covering her hair.

“Surjan,” François said, “this is Kazap. Sounds like he’s the new high priest.”

Kareem glowered at the brown-robed man and immediately put his hand to his sharpened ankh.

“After what the last high priest did to me,” Surjan said, “I’m considering burning the temple.”

“You don’t mean that,” Marty murmured, surveying the destruction of Nesha.

“Maybe not,” Surjan growled. “I could be talked into it, though.”

Kazap bowed at the waist. “Please allow me to talk you out of it. Such sacrilege would destroy your power as king and bring the world to ruin. You cannot offend the gods and still bear their power in the world.”

“Look around you,” Surjan said. “The world is already ruined.”

“And only you can save it,” Kazap said. “Only you can defeat the Guardian of the Hungry Dead and bring peace back to our land.”

“You mean the gray ones?” François murmured, not particularly liking the idea of having anything to do with those alien creatures. As far as he was concerned, the farther they were from them, the better.

“Correct,” Kazap confirmed.

“This is what we should do,” Gunther said.

“‘We’?” Surjan turned on the German. “‘We’? Are you seriously suggesting that we should go down into the dungeon and fight some giant-sized version of those Gray creatures?”

“When have we ever left you to fight alone?” François asked. “If there’s a fight to be had, it should be as an organized group, but I don’t see the point of going down there at all, if I’m being honest.”

“No,” Kazap protested. “Some duties fall to the king alone.”

“The Grays are not the problem,” Marty said. “The problem is the rain.”

Surjan shifted his gaze from the priest who seemed to be itching for a fight with the creatures belowground and focused on Marty. “I’m not afraid to go down and face whatever’s down there, but is there really a point?” He hitched his thumb toward Kazap and switched to English, “Other than this maniac who bloody well wants us to go to war with these things, is there any reason to go down there?” He panned his gaze across the team, focusing on each and every person.

“I don’t understand, Your Highness,” Kazap said with a confused expression. “You’re speaking in a manner I don’t recognize.”

Surjan motioned at the man dismissively. “Kazap, give me some space. I’m discussing something with these others that are only for their ears. I’ll fill you in on things afterward.”

The short priest stepped back, his mouth opened as if to say something, then he snapped it shut and walked away. The young woman in yellow followed him.

“So don’t go back,” François suggested. “Maybe it’s time for the Noah maneuver. Marty had a vision with a destination.”

“Noah? As in build an ark?” Surjan asked.

“We can get in the boats and go,” François said.

“Those visions with the giant cliffs of ice have happened several times, each leaving me with a feeling of more urgency than the last,” Marty admitted.

“Guys . . .” Gunther’s face held an embarrassed expression. “I should probably have mentioned something earlier, but I’ve been hearing something in my head. It’s not, I suppose, unlike Marty’s visions, but this is almost all oral communication. Just words, you know? I hear a voice. Someone or something is trying to get me to go down below to some door. It says it will teach me to use the door, that that will take us where we need to go.”

François frowned. “That seems highly risky, and given the flooding that’s been happening, those Grays are probably on the verge of climbing out of their holes and causing chaos to everyone remaining here.”

Surjan noticed Kareem shifting nervously while trying to blend into the shadows of the nearest tree. “Kareem, you have something to say?”

The young man shook his head.

“I can’t tell you how strong the message is that I’m getting to go where those cliffs of ice are,” Marty said. “Oddly enough, this part of the world is getting inundated with giant icebergs drifting from the north, but our target is seemingly all the way south. The South Pole. It won’t be hard to find if we are where we think we are, simply just follow the coast until there’s no more coast to follow.”

“Queen Halpa seems to have sailed off south with her cronies,” Gunther said with a frown. “It’s likely a coincidence, but maybe it isn’t.”

“And what will be at the South Pole, exactly?” Surjan asked.

“The next thing,” Marty said with a shrug. “We didn’t know exactly what we were going to meet up with at the end when we traipsed across North Africa.”

“What are you imagining?” Lowanna asked. “Some machine that lets us solve climate change?”

“Probably not, but I’m not sure.” Marty shook his head. “Hopefully it gets us one step closer to getting back home. Frankly, that’s all I really want.”

“Well, what are we doing with all these people? To me they all look somewhat like ancestors of the Inuit, but I feel an obligation to not lead them into harm,” Surjan said. “Obviously, our immediate goal is to save these people from an environmental disaster by taking them south with us, but to what end?”

Marty glanced at Lowanna. “Do you know when the first human inhabitants occupied South America?”

Lowanna shook her head. “Not particularly, that’s not a part of the world I’m most familiar with. I think I recall reading about mummies reclaimed from parts of the Andes that were six or seven thousand years old.”

“Realistically, there’s no reason we couldn’t just transplant these folks to the southern continent and call it a good deed done. That shouldn’t cause any rifts in the space-time continuum.”

“Space-time continuum?” François rolled his eyes. “Dr. Cohen, please leave the science stuff to me.”

“Fair enough, but these folks will probably need to be taught new survival skills for whatever the differences are,” Marty pointed out with a grin. “François, you can show them how to hunt saber-tooths together.”

“Don’t joke,” François said. “The Smilodon, otherwise known as the saber-toothed tiger, didn’t go extinct until ten thousand years before we were born. They’re likely still around, and yes, they did roam throughout the Americas, both North and South.”

“So, it’s decided?” Surjan asked. “We’re heading south?”

The party mostly nodded in silent agreement, though Surjan noticed the troubled expression on Gunther’s face.

Kazap approached them again, the woman in yellow next to him. She stared intently in Surjan’s direction. She looked familiar, but with such a small community of just a few hundred people, many were related to each other and tended to look very similar. He quickly filled Kazap in on the plans, and all things considered, he didn’t seem to have a strong reaction.

“It does not matter which road you choose,” Kazap said with a disapproving expression, “if you do not have the blessing of the gods.”

“Fine,” Surjan agreed, feeling annoyance at the man. “I won’t kill you or burn down the temple. That should make the gods happy and we can continue with our plans.”

Kazap shook his head. “The king’s magic depends on his virility.”

“I am virile,” Surjan snarled. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”

“You must have a queen.”

The party all fell silent and stared at the priest, while Marty grinned and shook his head.

“No, I don’t need a queen,” Surjan finally said. “And if I were to decide I wanted a queen, it certainly wouldn’t be to prove something to you.”

“Nesha is not protected by the magic of the king alone,” the priest insisted, rubbing the knuckles of one hand and then the other. “It is protected by the magic of the king and queen together. Whether you are to battle the guardian or sail the seas, you can only succeed with a wife.”

Lowanna chortled.

François gestured to the young woman at the priest’s side. “Is this a priestess?”

“Technically, yes,” the young woman said. “Because I am of the family of the queen. My name is Dawa.”

François nodded. “Are you Halpa’s daughter? Are you the daughter of the old king?”

“I am Halpa’s sister,” she said, looking at her feet. “The queen’s bloodline flows through the throne as the king’s flows through the grove.”

“I don’t need a queen,” Surjan insisted.

“Am I so hideous?” Dawa pulled the shawl away from her hair, revealing what was indeed a lovely young woman, with clear eyes and a wide smile. Her chin quivered as she fought back whatever emotions she was dealing with.

Surjan sighed. “No. No, you are very pretty. But why must I continue to have my free will taken from me?”

“Is it not ever thus,” Kazap asked, “for those whom the gods choose?”

Surjan hesitated. “And you, Dawa, would marry me, to save your people?”

“I wish for the power of the gods,” Dawa said. “But also, the people need to follow a married king, to feel reassured. Especially now, when their queen has fled, shattering the proper order of things.”

“Well, that’s a surprisingly sophisticated take,” François said.

Dawa looked down at her feet.

“What would this require?” Surjan asked. “I’m not up for any more sacred battles if I can avoid them. Is there some form of divorce needed from Halpa and quick marriage to make everyone happy so we can get going?”

Kazap held a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand the meaning of this ‘divorce’ thing that you are speaking of, but yes, a quick ceremony is all that would be needed.”

Surjan looked at the young woman. “If that is your wish. And I will presume nothing from our marriage. We do this because we must do it to save Nesha. I will treat you with respect and deference, and I will not take advantage of you.”

Dawa nodded.

“Marty, is there anything else we need to know about your visions?” Lowanna asked.

“Just the cliffs of ice,” Marty said.

“Calving icebergs?” François suggested.

“Maybe,” Marty said. “I’m not totally certain.”

“Do you see people?” Lowanna asked.

Marty shook his head. “Just penguins.”

“What is a penguin?” Kazap asked. “I don’t know the word you’re using.”

“It’s a bird,” Marty said. “But it doesn’t fly. It swims and eats fish. They are far to the south of us.”

“South,” Dawa said. “Following Halpa.”

“Not following her,” Surjan said. “Just going in the same general direction. It’s a big planet.”

“If this is the king’s decision, then we go south,” Kazap said. “And he should be married before he decides, to ensure that the gods will be with him in his decision.”

“Butt out, priest!” Surjan snapped. The man’s desire to control his actions grated on his nerves. “Dawa, I propose we be married, here and now, on the docks. I don’t care what the astrologers say or what the omens are, we do it now. All the people we capture from the shipwreck, we free them as a gesture of magnanimity to celebrate our wedding. Those who are freed can join us with no penalty, or stay here if they prefer. Then we round up the ships that can still sail and all the supplies and tools we can salvage and we head for the cliffs of ice—in the south. If we encounter Halpa and her coconspirators, we sink them to the bottom of the ocean. What do you say?”

Dawa reached out and held Surjan’s hand. “Yes, I agree. On that I do pledge.”

Surjan felt a shiver go up his spine as if something had just happened that changed an element in their adventure.


The hive mind sensed the exception triggered by an event in the test matrix, and immediately launched a thread to evaluate the current status.

“Interrupt Service Routine activated for a test checkpoint out of Brane sigma+654PWJZBE in the Orion arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Planet Earth, local relative year is 9104 B.C.E.”

The Administrator shifted a part of his attention to the event and asked, “Have we yet traced any of the anomalous communications being received by the test subject?”

“The source of the communication signal to test subject Gunther is still a mystery. We have hit a checkpoint in the test, and a trial is underway.”

The Administrator applied a part of his attention to the proceeding.

“Motion to terminate the trial now,” the Prosecutor said.

“Objection,” the Advocate said. “No grounds.”

The proposal caught the Administrator by surprise. He examined himself and found he had been engrossed in the actions of the test subjects.

“Explain the basis for your motion,” the Adjudicator said.

The Prosecutor was within his rights, but had stated no reason for his motion.

“This species is too stupid for continuation, whatever positive outcomes they may happen to bumble into,” the Prosecutor said. “Look at them. Despite the test script pointing them to the approved escape location, they’ve been made aware of the presence of a nearby portal. They are choosing to ignore it.”

“They’re not ignoring it out of laziness,” the Advocate said. “Look at what they’re doing.”

“I didn’t say the grounds was laziness,” the Prosecutor shot back. “I said they’re stupid. They’re incompetent. I doubt they’ve even realized they’re on trial, despite all the hints. They think they’re recreating. They know where the portal is, and they are fleeing it.”

“They’re not fleeing anything,” the Advocate said. “This species runs toward danger. The test subjects are attempting to rescue the other members of their species, even though they are not of the same community.”

“Is that the test now?” the Prosecutor asked. “We admit all species that have a taste for danger?”

“They’re saving their people,” the Advocate said. “This is an admirable trait, and one which should be selected for. And besides, they have decided to go to the southern continent, where there is another portal.”

“The seer remains among the living, so it would take someone truly braindead to not pick up on that message given him,” the Prosecutor huffed.

“It’s lucky that he remains alive, and if possible, we should select for luck,” the Advocate said.

“I disagree,” the Prosecutor snapped. “We need your decision, Adjudicator.”

“The trial will continue,” the Adjudicator ruled.

“I preserve my objection,” the Prosecutor said.

“Noted,” the Adjudicator agreed. “Do you have a proposal for the judgment criterion of this trial?”

“Faith,” the Prosecutor said.

“You choose that criterion because you believe the subject species has already failed on this basis,” the Advocate said. “Your proposal is disingenuous.”

“Do you have a counterproposal?”

“I agree that faith should be selected for,” the Advocate said. “Faith is the power to accomplish things. I accept faith.”

“Faith it is,” the Adjudicator decided.

The Administrator had not expected Earth’s trial to get past round two’s first checkpoint. He shifted his attention to the hive mind and said, “I want to know where the signal is coming from that the Gunther subject is receiving. It is creating an unexpected variable in the test matrix.”

“We will continue to do what we can to trace its origin.”



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