Louisa came fully awake, her instincts sending a jolt of energy through her body. She resisted the urge to move. Like a puppy seeking warmth from her littermates, she found herself wrapped around Eugénie’s midsection and her legs trapped in a tangle of limbs. The soft dueling snores of Joy and Virginie, who seemed to be taking turns inhaling and exhaling, were the only sounds.

She lay there for a moment, wondering what had stirred her from slumber when her stomach growled its irritation. The fierce stabbing pang threatened but failed to distract her from the immediate problem. Something was wrong.

No. Not wrong, just different.

The skill of watching and listening for the smallest change in her surroundings became innate after years of her uncle’s training. To miss the slight stirring of air generated when a door opened might mean the difference between spending your last days in prison or living to steal another day.

That tickle at the base of her neck persisted. What is it?

Resigned to her fate. She wiggled her way from under her friends’ arms and legs to poke her head out of the Clan of Dissipated’s cozy warren. The cold slapped her hard, and the air from her lungs solidified into fog, obscuring her vision. She stopped breathing long enough for her sight to adjust.

Moonlight leaked into the dorm room’s massive windows, casting long, rounded shadows away from the mounds of similar nests scattered around the freezing granite floor.

Built on a foundation of several layers of bunk-sized mattresses, more of the beds served as the walls, roof, and insulation, while sheets and blankets tied each structure together to form a small dome. Four or five girls slept in each, using their body warmth to get through the below-freezing nights.

Without coal or firewood to heat the furnaces, the kitchens were the only warm rooms in the school, and they were far too small to sleep the school’s remaining ninety students, all the nuns, and the handful of staff who had nowhere else to go.

It had been Eugénie who first built what she called an igloo. She had read about the design during a polar explorer’s recounting of his expedition’s attempt to find the Northwest Passage. She said the article included drawings of indigenous tribes’ Arctic homes. Eugénie made good on her promise that her creation would trap heat and keep out the cold just like those strange ice structures.

From the angle of the shadows, Louisa estimated it to be a little after midnight. With that revelation came her understanding of what had awakened her.

It’s Christmas Day. And it’s silent.

For the first time in the last week, the bombardment had stopped. Three days ago, not far from Fort de l’Est, which lay only two kilometers from the school, the French army attempted to break out of the Prussian siege, with disastrous results. The Prussians responded with a brutal, near-constant artillery barrage.

But now, the Prussian guns had stopped. And the French counter battery fire had also fallen silent.

Saddened, Louisa hated that it took one of the two most Holy of days to stop the senseless killing. Like she did multiple times a day, she prayed for an end to the war. To the siege. Then she made the sign of the cross but stopped short. With Mère de la Nativité’s constant scolding ringing in her head, she caught herself using the Greek Orthodox pattern.

Louisa had never given much thought to religion. Life posed too many worldly challenges for her to worry about the next one, and her needs were too immediate to wait for God to solve her problems. Thus, without reservation, she committed to doing things the French way, but thirteen years of habits were hard to break. She began again, and her hand crossed over her heart to finish over her right breast the way a good Catholic should.

“Christmas. It’s Christmas day,” Louisa whispered.

Bittersweet memories of this special day flooded back. Bitter because the children back home never let her go door to door with them to sing the Kalanta—Christmas Carols. They would say, “English girl, you’re not Greek. You can’t come.” After each song, she could hear them laughing and enjoying the treats the neighbors gave as they moved to the next house.

Her mother would wipe Louisa’s tears and give her a loving hug. Then they would sing the songs together as they danced around their house. And when they’d sung themselves hoarse, they’d enjoy the sweet treats her mother made for her. Even on her last Christmas, Louisa’s mother sang the Kalanta with her.

A sense of love flooded her chest as if her mother were with her now. Tears freezing on her cheeks, Louisa began to sing Kalanta Christougenna, low and clear. Note from the Author:​I have included a Zoom choir rendition of the Greek traditional song for your enjoyment​.

The other girls began to stir within the igloo.

Suzette’s voice echoed in the cavernous room, “Greek Bastard. If you don’t shut up, I’m going to punch you in the mouth.”

Louisa smirked as she finished the final line, pleased that she’d disturbed the bully. Then she yelled back, “Joyeux Noël, Suzette.”

A sense of purpose settled over her. Today, she would spread the joy of Christmas the way she had never been able to before, by singing the Kalanta for anyone who would hear.

A hand tugged on her arm, and she ducked back inside. The world went dark except for the small open chimney at the top of the dome.

Eugénie asked, “What were you singing?”

“A Greek chant de Noël. It is Jour de Noël.”

Joy said, “It was pretty.”

“Very,” Virginie said.

Her voice filled with enthusiasm, Louisa blurted out, “In the morning, I am going to go.” She didn’t exactly know how to express her thoughts in French, but she forged forward with what she knew. “Sing for the people and the troops.”

All fell silent, except for the girls breathing. Then all at once, Louisa heard. “That’s a fantastic idea,” “I want to go,” “We must go sing to the wounded.”

“Ssh,” Eugénie said. “Do you have a plan?”

___________________________________

Louisa pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Eugénie, Virginie, and Joy sat shivering around the marble-topped refectory table, their breaths puffing gray like locomotives anxious to leave the station.

An unnaturally lean and somber Mère Sainte Adeline placed a bowl of thin broth on the table in front of Louisa.

“Eat before it gets cold.” She moved around the table, giving each girl a bowl.

Louisa leaned down to inspect her meal. A few cubed turnips and some unknown meat lay lonely and uninspired at the bottom of the bowl.

Joy said, “Yesterday afternoon, I saw the cook carrying in an armload of what looked like skinned rabbits.”

“They were too big to be rabbits. I’m pretty sure they were cats,” Virginie said, her eyes tight and her lips pressed into a line.

Eugénie sighed. “Be grateful. So many people out there have nothing but what they can get with their subsistence cards.”

“Rabbit. Cat.” Joy shrugged. “Better than the rat we were eating last week.”

Eugénie’s face blanched. “Never speak of it again. Even if we must.” She gulped. “Do it again. Never speak of it out loud.”

Louisa left her spoon on the table and raised the bowl to her mouth. She drank the broth, and for a moment, the dull ache in the pit of her stomach stopped complaining.

When all the liquid was gone, she set the bowl down. “Is anyone else going with us?”

Virginie swallowed. “Five more, and two others volunteered to run interference with the Mères.

“And Suzette?” Eugénie asked.

“She’s on laundry duty today,” Joy said with a half-full mouth.

Eugénie finished up the planning, “We meet at the cemetery at noon. We must be back by four.”

Louisa sought through her growing but still limited French vocabulary. “We go to the hospital invalids and then houses in Saint-Denis.”

The other girls nodded, and she picked up her spoon to savor the solid bits still in the bowl.

___________________________________

Among the iron crosses of the school’s walled-in cemetery, Louisa led the nine girls in practicing four French Christmas songs. Luckily for Louisa, Mère Saint Adeline held a choir class each day. It was the only time these days that Louisa saw the usually joyful nun smiling.

As the last refrain drifted away, Louisa turned to Eugénie. “We are ready.”

“We will each take a turn walking at the front. I’ll go first.” The tall, skinny leader of The Clan of the Dissipated waved. “Walk in my steps. That way you won’t get as tired.” She marched through the cemetery gate and trudged into a calf-high field of snow.

It didn’t take long before the cold sank into Louisa’s bones, but it could not deter her from her mission. To reach the field hospital, they had to march across a half-kilometer-wide blanket of snow. It felt daunting. When her turn came to take the lead, she threw back her shoulders and pushed through drifts that reached almost to her knees.

A single sentry, with what appeared to be amusement, watched them make their way over the last hundred meters. As they lined up in front of the man, he asked through a gap in the scarf wrapped around his head, “Demoiselles, what can I do for you?”

Eugénie looked to Louisa.

She stepped to the front, puffed up her chest, and said, “We have come to sing chants de Noël for the wounded.”

A frosted eyebrow shot upward. “I will need to ask my commander. Wait here.”

The man disappeared around the corner. When he returned, he came with a young officer with a straight back and piercing blue eyes.

“I am, Lieutenant Rousseau. Merci for coming. I’m sure your music will lift the men’s spirits. Follow me.” The you man turned on his heels and led them to the front of the building and through a dirt palisade built to protect it.

They moved through four layers of curtains made from blankets, each one bringing additional welcomed warmth. Upon entering a tall-ceilinged space that must have once been a warehouse, Louisa covered her mouth and nose. The stale air had the metallic taste of blood and an overwhelming smell of unwashed men. Then there were the moans and the not-so-soft cries of the wounded who lay on cots that were crammed from one wall to the next with barely a foot between rows for navigation.

Several of the girls behind her began to weep.

Virginie snapped, “Stop that. You are women of the Legion. If these men are brave enough to fight for us, we are brave enough to see their injuries without tears.” Soft cries wilted into sniffles. “Good. Louisa.”

Louisa turned to the Lieutenant and pointed to the small empty space to the side of the entrance. “May we stand there?”

He nodded and unwound his scarf to reveal a large burn scar covering the majority of his lower face.

Louisa turned from the grisly sight to usher the girls to their places. Then she began. She projected her voice, hoping to drive the suffering from the air as she sang a solo of the first verse of Cantique de Noël— O’ Holy Night. But for the cries of the inconsolable, the room fell still and quiet.

The rest of the girls picked up the second verse, and as they progressed, more and more of the men joined in singing. Note from Author— ​try as I might, I could not find a girls’ choir singing the song in French, so I found a soloist video for you.​

At the end of the song, a soft cheer rose, and several men cried out, “Dieu merci!”

They followed with Il est né, le divin Enfant— ​He Is Born, the Divine Christ Child​, Entre le bœuf et l’âne gris— ​Between the ox and the grey donkey​, and they finished with Les anges dans nos campagnes—source behind ​Angels We Have Heard on High​.

The room reverberated with the voices of every able man as they joined the girls in singing Gloria in excelsis Deo. No amount of bravery kept the tears from streaming down Louisa’s cheeks. So beautiful, she thought. So much more than the simple joy she had hoped to bring by singing the Kalanta.

Too choked up to speak, she nodded to the Lieutenant when they finished, and the soldier hurried them back outside. Cheers and clapping followed them into the cold.

Lieutenant Rousseau wiped his eyes and cleared his throat before addressing the girls. “That was magnificent. I would be remiss if I did not allow you to perform for General Carey de Bellemare.”

Eugénie held up a hand. “We will get in trouble if we go to the fort.”

The man’s burned cheeks turned his smile into a grimace, but there was humor in his blue eyes and in his voice as he said, “You will be in no danger. The general is currently having a parlay with his Prussian counterpart just outside of the fort.” He nodded to a horse-drawn wagon with his chin. “We will be quick. Climb up.”

The girls shared a look, and one by one they gave their silent agreement. Louisa was the last to climb into the blood-soaked wooden bed of the ambulance wagon. The driver slapped the reins, and the horses pulled them over the frozen road that had been kept clear of snow but not shell craters left by artillery fire. The girls huddled together for warmth. Each stared out at the broken landscape, caught up in her own thoughts.

Louisa reflected on what a special moment she had just participated in. On the power of Christmas. On the power of Faith. And finally, the power of music to uplift the soul.

As they neared the fort, hundreds of bundled-up soldiers lined the walls, staring out at the enemy. A few turned to see the strange sight of a wagon full of young girls coming their way.

Joy laughed, “The other girls will never believe us.”

Virginie chuckled. “They will when they find out it was Louisa who got us into this.”

Louisa felt a special chill as the horses clopped past the open gates of Fort de l’Est. They rode fifty meters into the contested land between the French and the Prussians before pulling up to a large makeshift tent.

Looking back, Louisa could see even more French faces looking now over the wall. Fifty meters to the front of the tent, a company of Prussian soldiers stood in perfect formation. Their hard spiked helmets and healthier complexions were the only things distinguishing them from the French soldiers on the battlement.

“Wait here.” The Lieutenant jumped down from his seat by the driver.

He marched to the tent and snapped a salute to the two sentries before he entered. A few minutes later, he returned with two older men on his heels and several attending officers following them. The French general was a large man with a full, black, bushy beard flecked with grey, while the much slighter Prussian officer’s simple gray beard contrasted with his still dark hair.

Louisa stood in the wagon bed and motioned for the other girls to do the same.

The French general said, “The lieutenant says that you have been to the hospital to sing chants de Noël to the wounded and that you lifted their spirits.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Demoiselles, merci du fond du cœur.” He lowered his hand and smiled. “Would you please grace us with the same?”

Louisa struggled for a moment to find the words, but then said, “We would be happy to.” She looked over her shoulder, and Virginie nodded that they were ready.

She once again began with a solo and led the girls through the same four songs. Slowly, the French soldiers around the tent joined in. Then here and there, a voice from the men in the fort floated over the walls until it became hundreds. When they finished, the general had a huge smile while the Prussian leader wiped away a tear.

The general said, “Merci. Merci. May I ask your name, demoiselle?”

“I am Louisa Sophia, monsieur.” She waved to the other girls. “And these are my sisters of the Legion.”

“You have a remarkable voice, demoiselle.” He looked at all the girls. “All of you have made France proud.”

The Prussian general stepped forward and said something in Old Prussian.

The French general nodded and said, “Field Marshal Leonhard Graf von Blumenthal would like to return your Christmas gift. He will have one of his men sing the ​chant, Stille Nacht, or in French, Silent Night.​”

The field marshal whispered to one of his attendants, who jogged off toward the assembled company. He shouted something, and another man broke formation. Together, they ran back to the wagon. Another exchange in Prussian came, and the young soldier handed his rifle to the officer and removed his helmet. He held it in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen.

The young soldier’s voice started soft and pure as he sang, “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!”

Louisa floated on the breathy words, the emotion of gratefulness building inside her with each note. When he stopped, he walked around the wagon to stand facing his waiting comrades and raised his arm. He sang the song again, his voice loud, bright, and clear. By the end of the first verse, all the Prussian soldiers joined, voices booming.

As “Christ, in deiner Geburt.” Faded into the gloomy winter skies, an otherworldly peace settled over the gathering as if the heavens held their breath.

With more hope in her heart, Louisa lowered her head and prayed again for peace.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed this special Christmas story.

Have a very wonderful, safe, and prosperous new year,

Author Russell Cowdrey

Chapter 1 Catch of the Day

Startled awake, she cried out in alarm as she was pulled roughly out of bed. Mother shushed her and patted her back as she cradled her in her arms.

“It’s alright, Minnow. Mother’s here.”

Minnow felt the tremors in Mother’s chest and heard the fear in her voice. She grabbed hold of the straps of her mother’s chiton dress and buried her chin into a shoulder. Shouts and then a woman’s scream came from outside. Mother moved as best she could through their dark house while holding five-year-old Minnow to her chest.

By the light coming through the crack between the closed wooden shutters of their only window, Minnow made out the outline of their kitchen table and chairs.

Mother pulled open the door, but Minnow could see nothing but the shadows inside her home. Something huge, stomped past on the dirt road that ran through the village. When the thuds drifted away, Mother moved outside, staying close to the wall. For the first time, Minnow saw fires. Most of the roofs in their village were ablaze. Dark shadows moved within the flickering light.

Mother turned the corner of the house and ducked down as she ran toward the olive grove behind their home with Minnow crushed to her chest. She stumbled to one knee and almost dropped Minnow.

“Mother, put me down.”

Mother ignored her, struggled to her feet, and started running again. Minnow saw them then. Four short creatures came around the corner of her house, their eyes glowing green like the algae that sometimes floated upon the waters of the sea. They moved half like a man, and half like a frog. Stride, skip, hop. As if one, their eyes turned toward Minnow and her mother. Minnow’s mouth went bone dry, and she felt deathly cold.

These were the monsters her parents told her about. The ones they used to scare her into doing what they said.

The Sea Reavers.

The four frogmen let out a burping, hissing sound that reminded Minnow of the gurgle of a wave made as it pulled away from rocky shallows. The creatures ran-hopped toward them. She hugged her mother's neck so scared she couldn’t say a word.

Mother quickened her pace. She ran into the grove and raced along the first row of trees. Minnow’s world bounced up and down. Two of the frogmen followed them up the row. She saw another pair of glowing eyes on the next row over. Twin orbs shaking up and down.

Her heart thrashed in her chest, and Minnow felt like it might burst. She could barely hear Mother’s ragged breathing, the pounding of Mother’s sandals, and the strange shuffling sounds of the creatures, over the pounding of her own heart.

The only time she had ever been this scared was when she had fallen in the deep wading pool and swallowed all that salt water. Her father snatched her up in seconds, but not being able to breathe, she panicked. Father. Where’s father?

The frogmen running up their row were closer now. Mother tripped and twisted to her side at the last second, or she would have crushed Minnow beneath her. Released from her mother’s arms, Minnow flew forward and rolled across the hard ground. She cried out in pain. Mother had come to her feet and pulled Minnow up by her arm. She grabbed Minnow’s hand and turned to run but stopped. A frogmen stood in the path. He leaned a thick piece of driftwood against his shoulder. What seemed like hundreds of sharp teeth ringed the creature’s wide mouth.

If a frog could grin, it did. It spoke the Babel language coming out like a gargle. The creature’s croaking added the higher and lower tones of the language. It said, “Tà ló má ní wó lú.”

Minnow understood, because it was the other language besides Mykenaran that mother and daddy taught her.

The frogman had said, “Give up and you will live.”

Mother let go of Minnow and pushed her back. “Stay right behind me.”

Minnow could hear the others coming. A blade appeared in her mother’s hand, and she lunged at the frogman. Green, bulging eyes went even wider as the surprised creature didn’t move fast enough. Mother’s knife sank into exposed, rubbery skin under the creature's woven shirt made of fishbones.

The frogman screamed and stumbled back. Minnow’s mother pushed by him. Minnow stood there watching the slimy, glowing ichor coming out of the frogman’s belly. Cool, rough-skinned hands grabbed her arms. Small suction cups at the end of frog-like fingers latched onto her. Coming out of her trance, Minnow screamed as her feet left the ground.

Mother turned, her eyes huge in the moonlight. The stabbed creature had fallen to one knee, but when mother’s face scrunched up in a mask of fury and she ran toward Minnow, the frogman swung his club. The cracking sound of Mother’s leg breaking and the following shriek were the most horrific sounds Minnow had ever heard. She sobbed and peed.

Warmth ran down both her legs as the creature raised the driftwood above its head with both hands and slammed it down on the back of Mother’s head. Minnow closed her eyes and turned her head away, but she heard three more savage whacks.

A creature threw her over its shoulder, and they moved away. Bouncing up and down, she opened her eyes. She searched for Mother, but there was nothing but empty ground and olive trees.

_________________________

Held by the hands and legs, two frogmen tossed Minnow. She flew up and away from the small rowboat. She crossed over the railing of an evil-looking ship made of bones. She felt herself falling, and her stomach dropped when a pair of callused human hands caught her. Swung her and then tossed her forward as if she were today’s catch.

A huge stony hand snatched her ankle. She swung back and forth for a second as she rose higher. Like a prized fish, she stared upside down into the swirling, storming eyes of a man made of stone. The bald giant had dark skin like the rocky shores near her village, but there were little veins of shining blue all over, like little luminescent streams filling in the cracks of a mud flat.

The rock-man lifted a lock of her golden hair and held it close to his face. The creature’s thin lips moved. A sound like an avalanche of tumbling rocks came out of his mouth.

The human who had tossed her laughed and pointed toward one of three open holes in the bone deck. He said in Babel, “Put her in the pampered pit. That gold hair will bring a high price.” The man’s tattooed face split into a grin. “But what would you know about the value of hair?”

The big rock-man laughed, and Minnow’s entire body shook as the rumble of waves crashing against cliffs rolled over her. Her head throbbed. Once, trying to copy one of the older kids in the village, she had stood on her head for several minutes. The same thing had happened then, and she felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to her face.

The giant walked to the pit the man had pointed to, grabbed her wrist and turned her right side up. Minnow glanced down. At least ten faces stared at her. The desperation in their eyes made her want to start crying again, but she didn’t think she could. Breathing hurt. Her entire chest ached from all the sobbing she had done since they had captured her. Since she heard the sickening whacking sound.

Then he lowered her down as far as his huge arm could go and let go.

Her bare feet slammed into the bony planks, and she whimpered, pain shooting through her feet like stepping on a sharp rock. She fell to the ground and lay there. Several of the prisoners turned away. No one moved to help her. She crawled toward the wall and tried to pull herself up.

An older girl of about ten, squatting and leaning against the wall, pushed Minnow away with her foot. “This is my spot.”

Minnow pulled herself up to sit. “Where are they taking us?”

The girl’s eyes drifted down to her one sandaled foot. “A slave market.”

_________________________

Minnow had lain at the bottom of what the other prisoners called a ship’s hold for over a week. She and all the other children used a big bucket in one corner to pee and poop. She hated that she had to do it in front of everyone. The big rock-man emptied the bucket at the end of each day, but the smell never left the hold.

Twice a day, a tattooed woman wearing a necklace with a shrunken human head as an amulet came to feed the captives. She even tended their wounds. The older girl had said it was to make them presentable to sell.

When Minnow finally climbed out of the belly of the ship, she saw that the evil ship had docked on what was a floating island. An island made from driftwood and the remains of countless wooden ships. There were other vessels docked along the edges of the ginormous raft— buildings, some of them taller than she had ever seen, filled the interior of the floating city.

She spent the night in a big room with bars, then they marched all the prisoners to a big round building with a raised stage at its center. Toward the back of the stage, she waited with the other prisoners for their turns. The older girl was sold. A human woman purchased her. Minnow heard them say they were taking her to a brothel. Minnow had no idea what that was, but the girl had been inconsolable.

Minnow was next.

The man shoved her in the back, and she stumbled up the last step onto the top of the platform. All sorts of men and creatures stood below. She had never seen so many different types of clothes or races. Her captors were everywhere. There were frogmen and some frogwomen. These were skinnier and had pinkish throats while the male frog creatures had yellow necks. There were rock-men and tattooed humans. Both men and women.

Then there were dwarves and elves, but these were different from any she had seen before. The dwarves had skin like golden sand, and the elves had pale skin, the color of a dead fish’s belly, and dark eyes that were very much alive. They wore some unnatural armor made from the bark of a warped tree. There were emaciated little blue elf-like men with flaps of skin under their arms, a creature with the body of a lion but the head of a human, and even a walking, talking alligator.

So many strange eyes. And all of them stared at Minnow. Their faces appeared to be sizing her up to see if she was worth eating. She hadn’t been frightened until she looked into those eyes, and she squeezed her legs together to keep from peeing again.

The man who pushed her lifted her chin and then spread her lips to show her teeth. He said in Babel, “This young’un is healthy. She’ll make a good kitchen wench until she’s old enough for other things.” He held up her hair. “A rare find and a good investment. You’ll triple or quadruple your money in a single night.” He hissed-laughed, but Minnow didn’t know why. “Let’s start the bidding at fifty obol crowns for this golden minnow.”

She shuddered at the unexpected use of her pet-name. What happened next was a blur. The people and creatures below yelled and raised their hands while the man pointed and said more numbers. Then he said, “Sold for one hundred and eighty obol crowns.”

One of the tattooed women tied Minnow’s hands together and led her by a rope down a set of stairs. Minnow went without a fuss as if in a dream.

A nightmare that never ended.

At the bottom, a gruff-faced dwarf, his face appeared like it was chiseled from sandstone, grabbed the rope. “Come along.” He turned and tugged.

Minnow’s hands yanked forward, and she hurried to catch up. Afraid to ask but too afraid not to, she said, “Where are we going?”

The dwarf never looked back, but in a gruff voice said, “Khemhotep.”

Chapter 2 A Pack is Born

Khel put his hand over his mouth and took short breaths through his nose. He froze in place, afraid the slightest movement would send the pile of trash he hid under tumbling down. The smell didn’t faze Khel. After years of living in the alleys of Ziyon-Tir, he’d grown used to the constant smell of shit, puke, soured mead, and rotting refuse.

Something metal dragged along the alley wall, and the familiar tingle of fear ran up his back. Khel didn’t pray for salvation. What was the use of that? It had never worked anyway. Didn’t save his mother from the man who stabbed her. Didn’t save his little brother from an illness that a priestess could have easily cured.

What use was an Eternal Flame that never even warmed Khel’s skin on a freezing night? No, sputter it, Khel survived by following his instincts and when trapped, by being unafraid of dying. It is amazing what a small boy can do and how little he won’t do when he doesn’t fear death.

“I know you’re here, little curr.” The man’s footsteps came closer to Khel’s hiding place. “I’ve tried to be nice. Offered you food. A warm place to sleep. I don’t ask much in return.”

Something sticky oozed down Khel’s back, and gooseflesh ran across his shoulders. Still, he didn’t move. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was terrified of what that man wanted in payment for his kindness.

“It’s time for you to earn your name.” The man chuckled. “I’m done playing nice.”

Khel hated what his name meant. The scraping sound came closer, and he felt part of the rubbish pile explode. Another kick sent refuse flying. Khel used the commotion to slide away from where he thought the next kick would come.

The boot slammed into his kidney, and he clamped both hands over his mouth trying to swallow his cry, but it was too late.

A hand came through the trash and grabbed his throat. “There you are.”

Khel reached for the long piece of metal he kept tucked into his hemp-rope belt. The man yanked him up, and he choked. Rubbish flew in all directions.

Khel snarled as he stabbed out. The jagged end of what had once been part of a chariot’s axle bit into the man’s shoulder, and he dropped the blade he had been holding.

The man threw Khel forward. He slammed against the alley wall. The air burst out of him, and his head thudded against the stucco-covered brick. He dropped to the ground in a heap. The panic of not being able to bring air into his lungs took hold as his vision blurred.

“You will pay for that, dog. You will pay a thousandfold.”

Khel wheezed and spots floated within his fuzzy vision, but he felt the man pull him by his feet. His legs and midsection were suddenly cold. His arms wouldn’t move.

Somewhere deep in the fog of his injured brain, Khel recoiled. Worse than death. So much worse than death was coming for him.

His very existence was a result of his mother’s shame. And now he would live that same hell. Damn you. Let me die. If you are truly The One Most High, then do it. Kill me. Save me, please.

Disgusted that he would beg for salvation, he sucked in life, and his lungs inflated. No, let me die!

The spots disappeared as the man wrenched his legs apart and shoved them upward. The cruel glint in the man’s eyes told Khel that He Who Is had truly abandoned him.

The man’s head suddenly jerked back, and a blade moved across his neck. A crease formed, and blood gushed forth. Warm viscous liquid splashed against Khel’s stomach and soaked his shirt. The evil man’s cruel eyes turned glossy, and then the head was pushed aside. The body sank to the ground beside Khel. In the man’s place stood a boy.

The One Most High had sent a boy to save him. By the boy’s bedraggled appearance, He Who Is sent an angel in the form of another street urchin.

About the same age as Khel, the boy squatted down and wiped the bloody blade against the man’s pants. The boy’s piercing blue eyes bore into him from a handsome face that even the thick grime could not hide.

He pointed the tip of his blade at Khel. “You might want to pull those up.”

Khel saw his exposed and blood-covered privates. He scrambled for his pants, pulled them up, and tried to tie his belt, but the rope had been sliced through. He looked around in the strewn trash for something to keep his pants from falling when a leather strap flopped down next to him.

“Use that.” The blue-eyed boy dug into the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out a small bag that jingled.

Khel stood and wrapped the belt around his waist twice to make it fit. He moved scraps of food and other refuse with his feet.

“Here you go.” The boy held out the long piece of metal.

Khel took it and whispered. “Thank you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off his savior. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. That drowned cockroach has been stalking me for weeks.” The boy held out his arm. “I’m Zev. That’s short for Zhev. Mean’s wolf.”

Khel locked his hand around Zev’s forearm, and they shook. “I’m Khel.”

“That’s funny.” The handsome boy smiled, and his eyes twinkled.

“What is?”

He tapped Khel’s chest and then his own. “You’re a dog, and I’m a wolf.”

Khel was almost too scared to say it out loud because he feared that Zev would leave him. Everyone did. Instead of swallowing his words, he forced himself to find courage. He grinned and said, “Like a real-life pack.”

Zev laughed and put his arm over Khel’s shoulder. “Exactly. A pack.”

Human (Creative) Multi-Class: Writer 7 / Publisher 4 / Marketer 3

Background: Storysmith (You gain proficiency in Obsession and Coffee Brewing.)
Alignment: Chaotic Deadline Neutral
Hit Points: Variable (increases and decreases depending on caffeine intake)
AC (Authorial Confidence): 13 (rises after good reviews, drops sharply after 1-star reviews)

Current Quest

To defeat the twin bosses of Obscurity and Algorithm, and ascend to the Legendary Tier: Full-Time Indie Author.

Class Features

Writer (level 7)

• Wordsmith’s Flow (At-Will): You can summon a torrent of words equal to your word count experience. In your case, you’ve written 500,000 words, granting you advantage on “Endurance Writing” checks (long drafting sessions).

• Plot Twist (1/Day): Once per project, you can radically change direction mid-story and somehow make it work.

• Writer’s Block (Curse): When faced with distraction, you must succeed on a DC 15 Focus Check or lose 1d4 days of progress.

• Epic Drafting (Passive): Having completed 7 stories, you gain +2 to Wisdom (Persistence) saves.

• Imaginative Summons (At-Will): Conjure NPCs, worlds, and dialogue snippets from thin air.

Publisher (level 4)

• Formatting Proficiency: You gain expertise in PDF, EPUB, and DOCX conversion, though each roll has a 10% chance of mysterious gremlin corruption.

• Cover Reveal (1/Week): By brandishing a new book cover, you can inspire your followers, giving allies advantage on “Hype” checks.

• Distribution (Passive): You know how to summon books into existence on multiple platforms (Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble). Summons sometimes arrive late, miscategorized, or with typos.

• Proofreader’s Eye: You may attempt to spot errors with a Perception check. Critical successes remove typos. Critical failures introduce new ones.

Marketer (level 3)

• Ad Campaign (3/Long Rest): You can create Facebook and Amazon ads. On a successful roll (DC 18), you gain gold and visibility. On a failed roll, you lose 2d10 gold pieces.

• Keyword Alchemy: You have proficiency in the mystical art of keywords. Success brings readers. Failure brings bots.

• Audience Summon (Ritual): You may attempt to summon readers via email list or ads. This has a variable success rate (1d20 + Charisma modifier).

• Social Media Fatigue (Passive): Long exposure to algorithms imposes disadvantage on Enthusiasm checks.

Multi-Class Synergy: Indie Author Abilities

• Persistence of the Indie (Passive): Because you’ve published 4 novels + 1 short story, you have resistance to “Imposter Syndrome” damage.

• Launch Day Chaos (Triggered): When you release a book, roll 1d100. On 1–50, glitches occur (wrong category, missing sales, Amazon delay). On 51–100, fans cheer and you gain temporary HP equal to reviews left.

• Three-Year Grind (Passive): You’ve been running ads long enough that failure no longer stuns you. You are immune to the “Demoralization” condition for up to 24 hours.

• The Indie’s Gamble (At-Will): You may invest gold into an uncertain strategy (ads, promos, covers). Roll 1d20. On 10+, gain returns equal to investment. On 9 or lower, the money vanishes into the abyss.

Inventory

• Quill of Endless Drafting (recharges daily at dawn)

• Mug of Infinite Coffee (bonus action: restore 1d4 energy) - Last year I was in in the top .2% of Starbucks star earners in the country or maybe world. I’m trying to cut back.

• Endless Google Docs (advantage on Plot Organization rolls)

• Facebook Ad Manager (Cursed Item: always demands gold, never guarantees results)

What follows is how I worked with AI to create the races that make up a single nation on Elarah. The Kaethar. To show you more would be to create a complete compendium for the world with all its races and monsters. Maybe over time, my partner and I will create that anyway.

The backstory.

As I pounded out the first few chapters of Death and Damnation, Book 1 of The Broken Flame, I had not yet gotten my AI partnership into high gear. Besides, I knew the inciting incident, and I wanted to get that part of the book on paper, so I defaulted to some standard fantasy bad guys. Orcs and goblins, to be exact. I know how drab.

I made the Kaethar, Elarah’s version of the ancient Sea Peoples, a collective of chaotic evil war clans made up of orcs, goblins, and humans. After reading the first couple of chapters to my critique group, someone suggested creating something new.

It didn’t take me long to think that my Sea People needed to be like some head-hunting ancient Polynesians culturally. After a bit of work with Chat, Kaethar’s culture took on a culture that is very much like Moana meets The Smokers from Water World. Only us olds will get The Smokers reference.

I went to my AI world building partner and asked chat to come up with creatures that took the place of goblins and orcs in stature, lived on land, and were based on the history of Polynesia. Chat came back with two races and added some Melanesia, and Micronesia history into the synthesis. After much tweaking of the initial creation, I settled on the maktiki and the ka’ura.

The maktiki

(Swarming Berserkers & Saltbringer Shamans – Goblin Equivalent)

Physical Description

• Small but wiry humanoids, standing 4 to 5 feet tall, with leathery, sea-darkened skin ranging from barnacle-brown to black-green.

• Faces are expressive and wild, with toothy grins and eyes that glow faintly like moonlight on stormy surf.

• Hair is tangled or shaved into crests, often adorned with fishbones, coral piercings, and wet kelp.

Society & Culture

• The maktiki live in anarchic flotillas lashed together from shipwrecks, driftwood, and scavenged sails. Their rafts are living totems of chaos, always moving, always unstable.

• They are true zealots of Mor-Azon, believing the god's rage churns through them like crashing waves. Where other Kaethar might conquer, maktiki aim to unmake.

• Swarming Berserkers: Maktiki warriors are fast-moving, foaming-at-the-mouth marauders who attack in mobs. They overwhelm larger foes through sheer frenzy, and many are known to leap off ships mid-battle just to bite and claw at fleeing sailors.

• Saltbringer Shamans: Twisted spiritual leaders who use salt as both a symbol and a weapon—hurling it like burning sand, cursing wounds with decay, or conjuring brackish sea spirits. Their spells often carry chaotic, corrosive effects and are guided by dreams of storm and wreckage.

The ka’ura

(Tidehammer Shock Troops & Wave-Splitters — Orc Equivalent)

Above is a Midjourney animation based off a prompt that chat created of the picture of a ka’ura at the top of the article.

Physical Description

• Towering (6.5–8 feet tall), massively muscled humanoids with bald heads and dark basalt-black skin etched with pale blue lines like tide marks.

• Eyes swirl like stormy whirlpools, reflecting their connection to Mor-Azon’s roiling power.

Societal Characteristics

• Fewer in number than the maktiki but far more feared; every ka’ura warrior represents the raw, unstoppable force of the sea’s fury.

• Serve as Kaethar’s elite Tidehammer Shock Troops, wielding immense coral-hilted weapons, smashing lines of defenders like crashing breakers.

• Wave-Splitters: Ka’ura battlecasters who call upon Mor-Azon’s might to conjure tidal surges, seaborne blasts of force, or maelstroms of whirling blades of water. Their spells combine brutal strength with elemental devastation.

• Their creed demands they live without chains or masters—except Mor-Azon himself. They believe drowning enemies feeds their god’s insatiable hunger for chaos.

Shared Cultural Themes

• Both maktiki and ka’ura see storms, shipwrecks, and coastal ruination as holy acts—manifestations of Mor-Azon’s desire to destroy all that is rigid and lawful.

• Together, they form the chaotic spearhead of the Kaethar’s sea reaver fleets, waging war on order itself wherever waves touch the shore.

Primary Inspirations for the maktiki:

1. Tiki figures (Polynesia – especially Māori and Hawaiian traditions)

• Why it fits: Tiki are often understood as the first humans or deified ancestors. The maktiki name riffs on this, twisting the “Tiki” concept into something more feral and unbound.

• Their worship of Mor-Azon echoes how tiki statues are sometimes seen as vessels for divine or ancestral energy.

2. Vicious water spirits and trickster beings (Melanesia & Micronesia)

• Example: Some cultures describe small, dangerous creatures that live near the water and steal from humans or play malicious pranks—closer to fey or goblin behavior.

• The maktiki berserker swarm evokes these unpredictable spirits, turned up to eleven with chaos and bloodlust.

3. Shamanistic salt and sea rites

• In many island cultures, salt and sea spray have ritual purification or spiritual power. The Saltbringer shamans tap into this, weaponizing it as chaotic magic.

• Their belief in interpreting tides and dead fish signs is inspired by real-world coastal divination practices.

Primary Inspirations for the ka’ura:

1. Oceanic warrior societies (Polynesia & Melanesia)

• The ka'ura reflect the ethos of cultures where strength, courage, and mastery of the sea were essential to identity and survival.

• Their Tidehammer role echoes real-world elite warrior castes—like the Hawaiian koa or the Fijian bati—whose duties often involved both war and sacred protection.

2. Navigation and the sacred ocean

• The ka'ura’s Wave-Splitter battlecasters are inspired by the spiritual importance of ocean navigation.

• In Polynesian tradition, navigation wasn’t just a skill—it was a sacred calling passed down by wayfinders who could read the stars, waves, and currents.

• Translating this to fantasy, their magic channels the ocean’s violence and motion itself.

3. Volcanic and elemental body imagery

• The basalt-black skin and glowing veins were inspired by the volcanic geology of many Pacific islands.

• In many Pacific origin myths, islands are born from divine or fiery acts—the ka'ura reflect this elemental ancestry, especially in how their appearance resembles hardened magma infused with divine force.

But something was missing.

The human piece of the Kaethar. I was already envisioning them like Māori warriors, but I wanted to give them some culture too.

The Taraki

(Human Seafaring Raiders of the Kaethar Confederacy)
“The tide carves all things, even the bones of kings.”

Overview:

The Taraki are a fearsome human tribe among the Kaethar, known for their tidal raids, sacred tattoo rites, and brutal practice of ceremonial head-taking. They view themselves as the chosen of Mor-Azon, born to break boundaries—between sea and land, life and death, self and spirit.

Origins & Culture:

• The Taraki claim descent from a storm-walker, a mortal who was swallowed by the sea and returned with blue fire in his veins—an avatar of Mor-Azon's unmaking will.

• They see war, drowning, and conquest not as crimes but as acts of divine art. All that is still must be broken. All that is bound must be cut loose.

• Taraki longboats (called vaelai) are carved with cyclonic spiral sigils and figureheads depicting drowned gods or broken anchors.

• They believe that captured souls (via head-taking) feed the sea’s hunger and lengthen the life of the taker. To die without a head taken is a curse—they will be forgotten in the tide.

Appearance:

• Taraki warriors are covered head-to-toe in ritual tattoos called kai-manu (literally, “tide markings”). These geometric spirals and wave patterns are inked using obsidian needles and jellyfish venom, which causes scarring and iridescence under moonlight.

• Each tattoo tells a narrative—raids survived, heads taken, storms conquered. The more ink, the more honored.

• Warriors often shave their heads, leaving only a topknot adorned with bone hooks, teeth, or shark fins.

Religious Practices:

• Every Taraki carries a shark-tooth dagger used in either battle or ritual sacrifice. Losing it is a grave dishonor.

• Their priests, called Wavebinders, collect the skulls of slain foes, binding them into rafts and casting them to sea as offerings. Some are kept and worn as sacred masks by champions.

• They believe that when Mor-Azon unbinds the world, the Taraki will be granted command of the “Tide of Names”—a great wave made from the blood of all those they’ve slain.

Role in Kaethar:

• Taraki form elite boarding crews and serve as navigators and storm-prophets for Kaethar war fleets.

• Unlike the chaotic maktiki or stoic ka'ura, the Taraki are introspective killers—cold-eyed and poetic about death.

• They are known to chant storm-prayers as they row, their songs eerie and layered with harmonics that seem to echo underwater.

Real-World Inspirations:

• Headhunting cultures of Borneo, Papua New Guinea, and the Solomon Islands, especially the ritual meaning behind taking skulls.

• Māori tā moko and Samoan pe’a tattoo traditions, where ink is tied to personal legacy and warrior status.

• Lapita and Polynesian wayfinders who crossed thousands of miles of ocean by reading stars and waves.

• Oceanic myths about being swallowed and reborn from the sea, often linked to deities of death, sharks, or tides.

The nascent age of AI is upon us, and as a self-published author, I have decided to embrace AI as much as possible without selling my soul to it. That means using AI in as many aspects of publishing and writing as possible, with one exception. The words I put on the page. Those need to be mine for me to master the craft of storytelling with a unique voice.

That leaves all the research and world-building I put into my stories as fair game. These posts will discuss my goals for Elarah as well as my partnership with AI to make the world come to life. For reference, I am using a paid subscription of ChatGPT 4 and Google Docs to document the finished product. I won’t/can’t get into which AI model is best or what other world-building tools would be useful.

My goals (some of these have evolved as we enhance Elarah)

1. Build nations based upon historical analogs that allow references to culture, language, gods, mythology, and history.

2. Have these fantasy nations use D&D creative commons type elements so that the books might be turned into D&D-style campaigns.

3. To use unique races for most of my fantasy creatures and not use any D&D-type creatures/races beyond elves, dwarves, and gnomes. All other races should have some sort of historical, cultural, or folklore origin, where possible.

4. Build a magic system that is unique but can work within D&D-style role-playing games.

The seed for The Broken Flame was my one-time desire to create a fantasy version of the Holy family’s time in Egypt while they hid from Herod’s assassins. I abandoned that effort after writing four chapters.

In this new fantasy effort, I only drew on a few items from the previous storyline.

1. There will be a messianic element to the story that involves an immaculately conceived child who is the hope against overwhelming evil.

2. To use the Lochem, a fictional elite temple guard unit that I created and incorporated into the Lamentations and Magic series. These specialized warriors use teamwork as the basis of their fighting style. The two-man team is referred to as a Yoke, with one man as the Spear and the other as the Blade (Uses a special type of khopesh).

All else is new, and any resemblance to the story of the Holy Family is purely based upon the use of a nation which is analogous to Israel in 590 BC.

National Basics

In a few hours, the AI and I came up with the basics of the different nations. Over time, these basics below have expanded to geography, different races, political factions, historical events, key figures, current political situation internally and externally, magical orders, priests and priestesses, currency, and military makeup/units.

Below is just the bare bones of the seven nations of Elarah. Next, I will go over how I work with AI to create the different races of Elarah and provide a few examples.

Assural (Inspired by the Assyrian Empire)

🏛️ Description

A theocratic empire centered around courts, codes, and enforcement. Assural views law as sacred and unbreakable, enforced through the fearsome Justicars.

⚖️ Alignment

Lawful Evil

🧬 Dominant Races

• Humans

• Dwarves

• deamhan aerig (evil Magic using miniature Elves based upon Irish folklore.)

Religion:

• Bane (God of War and Order)

• Asmodeus (God of Twisted Justice and Tyrannical Law) and Bane’s Wife

Bharajhati (Inspired by Late Vedic India) The Verdant Mandala

🏛️ Description

Bharajhati is a lush jungle confederation, a land of dense rainforests, sacred groves, and rivers winding through emerald valleys. Known for its music, prophecy, and living temples, Bharajhati’s culture blends joy and mystery. It is a place where spirits of the land are honored alongside ancient gods, and where travelers find both warm hospitality and deadly secrets.

⚖️ Alignment

Predominantly Neutral Good, with an emphasis on balance, compassion, and harmony between civilization and nature.

🧬 Dominant Races

• Wood Elves: Spiritual leaders and guardians of the oldest groves.

• Humans: Urban merchants, artisans, traveling performers, and city rulers.

• Ohdows: Small, halfling-sized shapeshifting forest tricksters and fierce warriors in defense of their territory. From Native American folklore.

• Gharial: Alligator-like humanoids who dwell in river temples and protect sacred waterways. (Indian folklore)

⛩️ Faith and Pantheon

• Bharajhati’s faith is animist and polytheistic, honoring:

  • Forest Spirits: Countless local spirits of trees, waterfalls, caves, and beasts.

  • Great Primal Gods: Like Shamara, Mother of Canopies (life and growth) and Tazur, The Storm Serpent (destruction and renewal).

  • Ancestor Spirits: Revered for guidance and protection.

Huttugara – The Twilight Dominion (Based upon the Hittite Empire)

🏛️ Description

Huttugara is a dark, foreboding land of twisted forests, corrupted swamps, and bleak hills where the sun rarely pierces the perpetual twilight. Here, power lies in the ability to remake nature into a weapon—trees that bleed poison, beasts bred for war, and fungal growths spreading terror.

⚖️ Alignment

Predominantly Neutral Evil, with society shaped by ruthless ambition, predation, and the belief that might—especially mastery over nature—makes right.

🧬 Dominant Races

• Twilight Elves: A cruel subrace of elves obsessed with bending nature to their will. They reshape forests into thorn-labyrinths, breed unnatural beasts, and practice botanical alchemy to poison or enslave.

• Humans: Merchants, mercenaries, or petty nobles skilled at exploiting turmoil.

• Gloam Gnomes: Corrupt gnomes who excel at poisons, sabotage, and cruel mechanical traps.

• Lepri: Evil, shapeshifting cousins of the Ohdows, thriving on chaos and deceit.

• Ishtari: Winged, raven-like humanoids who rule the skies as assassins and scouts.

⛩️ Faith and Pantheon

• Worship dark deities of corruption, predation, and entropy, including:

  • Vorath, Whisper in the Gloom – god of secrets and cruelty.

  • Ashkora, Queen of Unmaking – goddess of decay and remorseless change.

  • Taarzek, Raven King – storm deity of death and sudden fate, revered by the Ishtari.

Kaethar - The Drowned Horde (Sea Peoples)

“We rise with the tide. We leave only ruin.”

🟥 Alignment: Chaotic Evil

🌎 Core Identity: Nomadic, sea-raiding confederation bound by chaos, survival, and primal strength (Culture references ancient polynesia.

🧬 Race Mix:

• Ka’Ura– Brutal shock troops, war-leaders, and shipboard enforcers

• Humans – Adaptable tacticians, emissaries, and fanatical flame-eaters

• Mak-Tiki– Rabid skirmishers, reavers, and flesh-feasting raiders driven by bloodlust and hunger-rites

⚓ Who Are the Kaethar?

Kaethar is not a nation but a storm-borne tide of warclans, assembled from exiles, beasts, and blood-bound pacts. They live and die by the sea, honoring no law, god, or border.

• They are a perpetual invasion—never building, always burning.

• Their warbands are divided by ship-fleet and raiding legacy, not language or clan.

• Each warrior is part of a blood-oath cult that praises destruction, storm, and strength over all.

Khemhotep (Inspired by New Kingdom Egypt)

🏛️ Description

Khemhotep is a vast, ancient desert empire of golden dunes, monumental pyramids, and labyrinthine necropolises. It is a realm where life and death intertwine: the living seek favor with the gods, while the dead command respect and fear. Ancient magic, forgotten kings, and bound spirits linger in the shadows of timeless stone.

⚖️ Alignment

Predominantly Lawful Neutral, reflecting a culture focused on eternal cycles, order, and the unchanging decrees of divine pharaohs.

🧬 Dominant Races

• Sand Dwarves: Short, stocky folk adapted to desert life; skilled builders, tomb-keepers, and stone-carvers.

• Humans: Form the majority, from peasant farmers along the Nile-like rivers to powerful priest-kings.

• Anubi: Jackal-headed humanoids who guard tombs, serve as psychopomps, and track oathbreakers across the desert.

• Sphinxes: Rare, majestic human-headed lions; some dwell as solitary oracles, others rule as god-kings.

⛩️ Faith and Pantheon

A complex pantheon blending aspects of Egyptian myth:

• Atum-Ra, Lord of the Sun – supreme deity of creation and order.

• Ma’at, Mistress of Balance – goddess of justice and cosmic harmony.

• Anubash, The Black Jackal – god of the dead and keeper of souls.

• Sekhet, Lioness of Flame – war goddess of righteous fury and protection.

Mykenara (Inspired by Mycenaean Greece) The Sea Born

🏛️ Description

Mykenara is a coastal and island-based civilization inspired by Hellenic city-states at their height, famed for their philosophers, powerful navy, labyrinthine politics, and glorious heroes. From gleaming marble cities perched above azure bays to undersea fortresses of Tritons, Mykenara thrives where land meets sea.

⚖️ Alignment

Primarily Neutral, with tendencies toward Lawful Neutral in major cities and Chaotic Neutral in pirate-haven isles.

🧬 Dominant Races

• Humans: The most numerous; rulers, philosophers, sailors, and soldiers.

• Gnomes: Inventors, shipwrights, and wily merchants; keep to cliffside enclaves.

• Minotaurs: Respected as gladiators, bodyguards, and frontline warriors; many trace lineages to mythical heroes.

• Tritons: Proud aquatic folk who claim Mykenara’s coastal reefs and deep harbors; essential allies and occasional rivals to surface cities.

⛩️ Faith and Pantheon

• Deeply polytheistic; each city-state favors different gods, but key deities include:

  • Thalorian, God of Waves and Storms – patron of sailors and tempests.

  • Ariasta, Goddess of Wisdom and Strategy – revered by generals and philosophers.

  • Khazior, Lord of the Labyrinth – feared and worshiped by Minotaurs and seekers of secrets.

  • Elynor, Keeper of the Deep – Triton matron of ocean trenches and lost knowledge.

Yavara – Land of the Eternal Flame

📜 Description

Yavara is a holy kingdom defined by its unwavering devotion to He Who Is/The One Most High, the singular, unseen god. Known for the Temple of the Mountain Flame, Yavara is a place of sacred covenants, prophecy, and ritual. It is a land where divine law and royal authority are intertwined, and where spiritual and temporal power often clash. Society and faith revolve around oaths, covenants, and strict ritual law.

⚖️ Alignment

Lawful Neutral

🧬 Dominant Races

• Humans

• Mal'achi (Eagle headed and winged Humanoids inspired by creatures displayed in Ancient Assyrian temples, tombs, and palaces)

Two weddings. Two flight risks. One suspiciously convenient meet-cute.

**Updated with the Final Book Cover

Yes, Lamentations and Magic by Russell Cowdrey absolutely fits into the group of books that blend the themes of Indiana Jones and Stargate.

Here’s why:

✅ Indiana Jones Elements:

• Historical Setting: Takes place in 1880s Egypt, evoking the same rich archaeological backdrop as Raiders of the Lost Ark.

• Treasure Hunt & Tomb Exploration: Involves a thief and an archaeologist chasing ancient relics and navigating dangerous ruins.

• Action & Adventure: The protagonists face traps, enemies, and shifting alliances in a globe-trotting quest.

✅ Stargate Elements:

• Ancient Alien Influence: The story unveils that Earth's ancient civilizations are descended from alien races, which mirrors the core premise of Stargate.

• Portal to Other Worlds: Characters are transported beyond Earth, encountering alien species and civilizations—just like in Stargate SG-1.

• Myth Reimagined as Sci-Fi: It fuses mythology, magic, and science fiction in a seamless, interstellar narrative.

✅ Genre Fit:

• Historical Science Fantasy

• Action-Adventure with Sci-Fi Mysticism

• Mythical Artifacts + Advanced Technology

Conclusion:
Lamentations and Magic stands shoulder to shoulder with works by Rollins, Riddle, and McDermott. It's a must-read for fans of lost civilizations, interplanetary secrets, and thrilling historical puzzles.

Russell: If nothing else, I have a lot of marketing quips to use in ads.

Warning: The chapters that have been provided for your reading pleasure are not professionally edited and they there will be small and major changes to them.

Chapter 22

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 81

Abu blinked several times, trying to dispel the red spots in front of his eyes. It had been over two Aaruan months or yarns in the Aaruan language since he’d left Grrommerrk and traveled downstream to Kerma City. Like his first visit, the secretive stirithy sailors covered his eyes as they traveled through the underground river to their hidden destination.

His vision cleared, and his breath caught at the sight before him. An’s setting rays created a palette of ochre, rouge, and violet to paint an impressive backdrop for the magical forest city of Grrommerrk.

His thoughts came unbidden, So beautiful. So peaceful.

Would his mission help to keep it that way? If they lost the coming battle, Grrommerrk might become another casualty to the ripvor invasion. Abu was anxious to succeed in his primary reason for visiting the stirithy capital city. Yet, his nervousness about visiting Zanna set his knee rocking up and down.

The foxlike oarsmen in their boat pulled hard on their oars, keeping up a steady cadence that propelled their vessel toward the giant tree in the center of the city. Within the hour, he’d be coming face to face with the first girl he’d ever loved. How would she take what he had to say?

A black, four-thumbed hand landed on his thigh, stilling his jittering, and Rrummblinss said in Greek, “Neverr let a woman ssee yourr nerrvousnessss.”

Abu pointed a finger at his chest. “Nervous? Me?”

The flamboyant stirithy purr-chuckled. “You arre going to confessss your love. No?”

During the last two days, he and the stirithy army captain hadn’t discussed this other purpose. The trip back upriver had been uneventful other than passing a multitude of boats packed full of stirithy metal singers going the opposite way. They were being sent to help prepare for Kerma City’s defenses against the coming horde of reapers.

Abu and his traveling companion had discussed history on Earth and Aaru, the best restaurants in Kerma City, and nothing else of import. Thus, Rrummblinss words had caught Abu off-guard. What was Abu so scared about?

If he couldn’t get the words out without shaking like a frightened little boy, was he ready for what came after? What if she accepted his proposal? No. He was confident in his love for the young elven girl. And if either of them wasn’t quite ready to be intimate, they had time. Then again, when he left the city this time, it might be forever. Still, he was determined to let her know the decision he had made in that regard.

Abu’s romance mentor cleared his throat, bringing Abu out of his introspection, and he answered Rrummblinss’s question with his own, “How’d you know?”

The stirithy tilted his snout upward and sniffed twice. “I ssmmell it. The ssweetesst ssccent in the worrld.”

Abu shook his head. How long would he need to live on Aaru to become accustomed to friends who were upright, walking, and talking diminutive fox-raccoons, hairless, flying baboons, and giant wolves? He was curious what the stirithy version of Casanova would tell him.

Seeking love advice from Rrummblinss and Umrao might not be one of Abu’s wisest decisions. He should have spoken to Dr. Ben, but Abu was sure his guardian would act like every other parent. He’d forbid him from taking such an adult step. Abu had been through too much to be treated like a child. Let’s see what Don Juan has to say.

“You’re right. I am going to tell Zanna how much I care about her.”

“That will lead to a brroken hearrt.”

Abu frowned. “It might. I know she and I can’t be together, forever, forever.” He puffed up his chest, trying to show bravado even if he didn’t feel it. “I want to be a man she never forgets.”

The always confident swashbuckler’s voice was tinged with regret as he said, “You arre lucky. I have looked mmy entirre life forr a love like that.” His ears twitched, and he lifted the lip on one side of his snout as if giving Abu a wry grin. “The love I’ve known is but a blurrrr of a mmemmory. Good luck.”

They sat silent, each with their thoughts as the boat made its way around one of the roundabouts in the river before turning into another canal. They kept moving toward the heart of the city and Abu’s destiny.

__________________________

“That young man is back to see you,” said Urash.

Zanna looked toward her father’s assistant with a furrowed brow. “Who?”

“The Earthling.”

“Abu?” she whispered.

A skipped heartbeat later, Zanna jumped from her desk chair and ran out of the room. She flew down the carpeted hallway and took the marble stairs two at a time toward the ground floor. With most of the embassy’s elven workers in Kerma City as part of the defense forces led by her father, she didn’t see another soul. When she reached the landing, she eased her pace, taking deep breaths to slow her frantic heartbeat.

Zanna had never expected to see Abu again. The letter she’d sent to her father hadn’t been answered. She didn’t know if the young man she’d given her heart to had even seen what she’d written. The letter had been as much for her as him. A mental exercise, a way for her to let go of her first love.

With her heart still in her throat, Zanna pulled her shoulders back and walked with confidence into the embassy’s front sitting room, where visitors waited to meet their hosts. Abu stopped pacing. Eyes wide, he stared at her like a fawn, looking for the source of a broken twig.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The frozen thread of unbelief they shared shattered at Abu’s sudden movement. It was real. He was real.

Abu crossed the geometric pattern of the plush Kurran carpet in three long strides. His strong arms enveloped her, and she lost all sense of time and place. She’d never know if it was his touch or inhaling his cinnamon-scented musk that brought forth a torrent of joyful tears. She nuzzled into the curve where his shoulder met his neck and squeezed him hard, afraid he’d turn to smoke if she let go.

His voice cracked, “I’ve missed you. I love you.” His hands came to her cheeks, urging her to look at him.

With him an inch taller since she’d last seen him, she tilted her chin until she stared into his eyes. She dove into his beautiful brown pools, swimming in the love rippling within.

A tear dropped onto Abu’s cheek as he leaned toward her. She marveled at the contrast. His lips tasted of a salty sweetness so intense it threatened to lift her very soul to heights yet unknown. The exact opposite of their last kiss, when their love drowned in bittersweet tears.

He pulled away. Stunned by the sudden vacuum of emotions, Zanna’s fingers clutched at his linen shirt, locking him to her.

Abu stared into her eyes for another long moment and said, “I read your letter.”

“I’m glad. I feared it hadn’t been delivered.”

A mischievous smile grew on his face. “You didn’t trust your father?”

Zanna shook her head. “No. He’s very understanding of my feelings. It’s just that he’s so busy.”

“Ah.” His grin faded. “After your letter, I thought about following your advice. To move on.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“But.” She started to tell him he must when Abu placed a finger on her lips.

“Don’t say it. We both know how this ends. But the lamentations made me think about what I want the most. You know, about my future.”

A worry wormed into her thoughts. Abu loved her too much, and she’d bring him nothing but heartache. “And?” She held her breath.

Zanna saw a glint of fear in his eye before he straightened. “You know that I love you. And if I can’t be your only or your last, I want to be your first.”

“Uh.” She clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t know what to say. She loved him, but she wasn’t ready for that.

As if he had read her mind, Abu said, “It doesn’t need to be today. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. I want to honor you with that special place in my memories. I never want to forget you.”

“And me?”

“I want you to remember me no matter how many An you live.”

She smiled at him. “And if I’m never ready?”

Abu laughed. “I thought about that and left myself an escape clause.”

Zanna’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

“I’ll wait for you until I fall in love with someone else and love them as much as you.”

“Then I’ll need to make sure that never happens.” Zanna’s heart sank at the thought of Abu loving another. She knew the right thing to do was to push him away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. More doubts crept into her mind as she wondered if she loved him enough to give him up.

Just a little longer, she thought. For just a little longer, I want him to be only mine.

Chapter 23

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 82

Masako stared at the blank parchment. Nothing. She tapped her piece of charcoal over and over on the paper, leaving little dots. I am sick of this.

She looked up, seeking Emperor Poo Face. For weeks now, she’d been held hostage. The worst part of her captivity had been the constant boredom. At least as a slave, they’d kept her too busy to be bored. Her only respite from monotony came each morning when her minder and guard followed her around the legionary fort on her hour-long walks.

In the far corner of the pavilion, the emperor leaned over a map in conversation with the unnerving old man, Aquila. Her skin crawled anytime the man came close or she caught him staring at her. It was not one of the normal predatory looks she came to fear from the welves. No, this was something more sinister, as if she were a bug to experiment with.

Focused back on the blank parchment, her anger boiled over. This must change.

She looked over at her afternoon minder. Younger than most women assigned to watch her and at times, entertain her, she looked as bored as Masako. The brassy-skinned woman sighed as she twirled a long strand of obsidian hair around her finger. Masako thought, I hope you don’t get hurt.

Despite the potential danger to the woman, Masako could no longer sit idle. Without thinking, she reached over her drawing pad and patted the woman’s knee.

“I’m sorry.” Masako jumped to her feet.

The woman’s eyes bulged. She reached for Masako and yelped as the hair wrapped around her finger yanked her head to the side.

Masako skipped away from the struggling woman and ducked under the guard’s hand. She ran toward the emperor’s table in the corner. Once she passed the temporary throne, her guard called out a warning. The two men closest to the emperor stepped to meet her. One’s hand reached for the handle of his gladius.

Emperor Octavius glanced up from the map and looked right at her.

There was no way to reach Emperor Kabuah Butt, so Masako shouted, “I need to speak to the Emperor.”

The closest legionary stuck a large hand out to block her way, and she stopped, staring at Emperor Octavius, who stood up straight.

Her minder rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. Hard. “I’m sorry, Imperator. I’ll take care of this.”

He sighed and held up a backward-facing hand. “Let her come.” He curled his fingers, waving her forward.

Masako’s minder lowered her head and said, “Yes, Your Majesty.” She released Masako’s forearm.

Taking in the map and its contents, Masako rubbed away the sting as she walked to the table. Scattered around the map were small hand-carved men and horses. She had no concept of what the lines drawn on the vellum represented. Her lack of understanding prompted her to change her demands at the last second.

“I want tutors,” Masako demanded.

One of the emperor’s eyebrows shot up. “You are a hostage.”

She put her hand to her chest. “I am a princess of Alexandria and Yuhi, and I am bored.”

“And what exactly would you want to learn?”

“Everything.” Masako gave the bully of a man the best imitation smile she could muster. “I need to learn Greek and Latin. I want to understand the history and politics of Aaru. Of my countries.”

“Is that all?”

Masako tapped her chin with her finger. As much as she didn’t like it, learning to do more than add and subtract would be helpful. “Math, too.”

Octavius rubbed his chin with his hand. “As you wish.” He turned to the frightening older man. “Aquila, see what you can do.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The emperor’s eyes lit upon Masako. “Princess, let this be your first lesson.” His gaze flicked between her guard and minder. “Aquila, have these two receive five lashes each.”

The minder gasped, “Forgive us, Your Majesty.” She fell to the floor and prostrated herself, her entire body trembling.

The guard gave Masako a vicious side-eye before facing the emperor. He saluted with his fist over his heart. “I live to be an instrument of Ahura Jupiter’s light.”

Masako hadn’t flinched. She had hoped there would be no reprisal for her small rebellion, but she had already calculated potential punishments into her decision before she chose to act.

The emperor turned back to the table, picked up a carved soldier from the map, and leaned over to place it far from its original location.

Masako waited for another few moments, thinking he might dismiss her. When nothing came, she returned to her designated prison pillows. A different guard trailed close enough behind her to smell the reek of onion on his foul breath. She looked back. Her minder, still sniffling, shuffled toward the exit while the guard walked with a straight back.

Masako plopped herself down and, picking up the charcoal, tried to capture her guard’s vengeful look.

My first lesson? Masako pondered what it was she was meant to learn. The problem tumbled around her mind, and without knowing she was doing it, she stared at the emperor.

The fortunes of nations, much less mere servants, were decided by a simple word from the man. But, in this situation, it was not the emperor’s reaction but her actions that caused those two people to suffer.

Power, Masako thought. My power?

Not entirely convinced about her conclusion, she jumped between her two best explanations. Was Stupid Face showing her that because she was a princess, her decisions could have huge ramifications for those around her? Or was he trying to teach her that using her power to achieve her goals came at a cost? A cost that others might have to pay.

The emperor continued playing with his toys, and it dawned on her those weren’t figurines. They represented real men. Soldiers whose lives were in the hands of a man who shuffled their wooden representations around like a god.

Today, she had played the role of a tiny god, toying with the lives of her minder and her guard. Was it worth it? How much had Masako been willing for those two to lose so that she could end her boredom? What if he had killed them?

The thought didn’t surface the horrified internal reaction that Masako had expected. Instead, she grasped that for the first time in her mostly helpless and subservient existence, she had authority. It was a wonderful feeling.

Chapter 24

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 83

Roused from his bedroll two hours before sunrise, Djoser ate a cold breakfast and was in the air just before the black sky on the western horizon diffused to a charcoal gray. With only eight wind singers out of their original thirty still alive, the expedition was down to two flyers per four-hour shift. He patrolled along the expedition’s left flank at the highest safe elevation as the three different allied units began their march.

For the last four days, the allies would set a trap, and the chasing reapers would rush into it. The results became repetitive. The allies punched the reapers in the face and ran away. Several times during this Caracal and zehorg game, the enemy sent their fastest soldiers around the allies, attempting to set up a blocking position. After the allies’ wind singers warned of the impending attack, the army sped up, and the lizard-bird hybrids didn’t have the speed to slam the door shut.

Once, the reapers even tried to send a group of their flyers to make a night attack. The allied singers heard them coming, and the Earthlings deployed something called flares to light up the sky. Outlined by the light, the reaper wind singers became easy targets for the Kerman rifles.

After yesterday’s allied ambush of the ripvor, the Earthling commander convinced the other two that they didn’t have the supplies to lay any more traps. It was now a simple race to the finish line, and Djoser felt like he’d been running forever. Whenever Djoser thought his nightmare couldn’t worsen, patrol duty came up.

Frozen, aching all over, and low on reserves, Djoser hoped he had the strength to survive. He tried to bolster his resolve and said to himself, Three more days. Just three more.

An intense headwind added to his chill, and he tried to fight off a case of shivers.

Djoser flew in a figure-eight pattern, counting every minute until he could return to his resting spot. During each revolution, he scanned with his eyes and his listening song. In the back of his mind, he dreamed of the end of his shift and the blanket in the bed of one of the army’s supply wagons. He’d eat, then try to sleep for eight hours, bouncing over rough terrain to refill his singing stores before prepping again for the next mission.

Djoser turned his head away from the wind and yawned. He’d never seen it happen, but he’d heard of flyers choking to death on a flying insect. At this altitude, he didn’t need to worry about swallowing a bug, but breaking a good habit, even intentionally, seldom led to good outcomes. A wind singer respected the gift, or he’d end up dead.

Turning his face forward, a tickle came from his sound-sensing song. At the edge of his range, there were unusual disturbances. More like absences. Down and to his left, ripvor wind singers tried to block the swooshing sounds they generated. He angled down and toward the signals. If his count was correct, several hundred reapers flew westward, away from the allied column.

Damn! If they were leaving without attacking, they must have been transporting something or someone. He sent a message to General McGehee and got no response. Either he was too high, or some of the reaper wind singers were between him and the army, blocking his messages.

Double damn! Djoser popped on his own bubble to mimic the reaper flight pattern as he angled into a steep dive aimed at where General McGehee should be.

In seconds, eight sound bubbles, a thousand feet below him, shifted to intercept. They flew in a double-diamond formation, weaving a giant, puffy, sound-smothering blanket. If Djoser could not get below that barrier, he couldn’t warn the general.

What am I doing? Djoser had a few seconds to ponder his reasons for doing this act of foolhardy heroism which went counter to who he was. He didn’t owe the emperor his life and sure didn’t owe the men below anything. Pretend to be dead and fly away. That should be his plan. How far would he need to run? How long before he’d have to run again?

If the reapers win, there’ll be no place to hide, and I’ll never have my noodle shop, Djoser thought as he clenched his jaws.

The location of the enemy flyers formed in his mind, and he shifted his flight pattern, aiming for the optimal place to puncture their sound-catching web. The near darkness would make it a little more difficult for the ripvor flyers to get a good shot at him. Then again, like him, he was positive that wind singing reapers used their songs to simulate visual sight. That meant he needed to do some fancy flying to survive.

The formation of enemy flyers shifted, and the four closest angled into dives to surround him inside their bubbles and put him in crossbow range.

For the noodles, then.

Djoser popped his own sound bubble, shifted his arm, and turned his straight-line dive into a corkscrew. With minor hand adjustments, the width of each twist varied. He popped inside the reaper’s sound-blanket. The rushing wind still caressed his skin, but the sound of the air and all the other sounds he tracked cut that instant.

The gray to the west had become a little less dark, but still, he couldn’t find any enemy flyers. Without his ability to track the enemy’s flight patterns, he had to do the next part on instinct alone. He sang a cone-shaped storm of wind around him, blowing in the opposite direction. He made a hard right turn. Out of the corner of his eye, a darkness flashed by.

Missed me.

Djoser dove straight down, a murky, ominous presence rising to meet his fall. He pictured the hills and woods below and knew he had only a few more seconds before he had to pull up. Another dart flew toward him, his little storm deflecting the bolt down just enough to have it fly under his stomach by mere inches. His ears popped as all sound returned.

His warning call went out to anyone within a quarter mile of him. Below, a dark blob turned into the fuzzy outline of a rock outcropping. Djoser pulled up hard and twisted to his left. He heard the incoming whistle of another bolt and started an evasive roll as the curtain of silence returned. The bolt flashed by a few feet in front of his face.

Yards above the canopy of trees standing on the crown of a hill, he leveled out. The easy part was over. Now, he’d find out just how good of a flyer he was. He dipped a few feet to the left and zipped between two tall pines.

__________________________

Ben yawned. It had been two decades since he’d been this bone-weary. Pulling on his horse’s reins, he guided his mare around a fallen tree. Their first week on Aaru had been a piece of cake compared to this. The daily cadence of riding for hours, pausing only long enough to set an ambush and then be in the saddle until sundown, had taken its toll.

This expedition brought forth all the memories of his years in the Texas 6^th Cavalry and the almost four years of constant fighting. The difference, of course, was that he wasn’t a young man anymore. One positive change to those years, back then, his nights had been full of nightmares and cold sweats. Fighting these seemingly unfeeling creatures didn’t cause him any more angst than killing a rattlesnake might.

Last night, he’d rested as best he could with a saddle as a pillow. He’d dreamt good dreams about Louisa and Abu. He wondered what they had been doing while he was away, thankful they were safe in Kerma City. Thoughts of Abu caused him to glance to his left.

Umrao rode beside him in the middle of the column of 1^st Kerman Rifles, who acted as the vanguard at the front of the army. They had been serving rearguard duty until today. Having firearms meant Ben’s men had been given the most demanding jobs since the mission began. The night before, he had convinced Prince Tambal and General Kinya, the angry brothers, to give his men a break. Ben prayed he wouldn’t see a reaper today.

Nervous that his thoughts might bring forth evil spirits, he glanced around the small valley their column made their way through. With An still below the hills to the west, refracted light lit the sky just enough to cast a hazy gray over the landscape. They rode through calf-high prairie grass that covered the rolling hills except where small, wooded areas had taken root.

If they stayed ahead of the reapers, there should be no fighting. Besides, they couldn’t afford too many more engagements. Ben’s men had enough bullets for a few more running skirmishes. And that was it. Their best weapon now was speed. Thankfully, the ripvors’ faster top-end speed was short-lived.

The reapers: Were they birds or reptiles? At times, Ben leaned toward lizards, while other times, he was sure they had the personalities of predatory birds. The reapers could sprint for short bursts of about a hundred yards. While the allies’ horses maintained a faster pace over long distances. Even changing mounts often, the horses required significant rest to keep them from going lame.

Thus, the two armies danced an accordion-like polka each day. The allies would lengthen their lead for the first part of the day, and then the gap would shrink before each army bedded down at night.

Ben patted the stallion’s neck. His two mounts were as tired as he was, but they seemed to sense what would happen if they didn’t keep going. He marveled at the survival instincts of all God’s creatures. Even the unfeeling ones like snakes and ripvor.

“Ambush! Ambush!”

Djoser, the wind singer’s frantic cry, boomed in Ben’s head. His eyes snapped to his right and left, scanning for any sign of an enemy. In the field, twenty yards past Umrao, a mound shifted. A grass golem with a long neck and beak-shaped earthen face rose as if grown.

Shit! Metal Singers.

Ben yanked his mare’s reins hard and kicked her side. His mount twisted and side-stepped closer to the young lancer. His second horse, the mare, fought against the pulling tether, and his stallion stumbled before righting himself.

Leaning out, Ben grabbed Umrao’s collar from behind. Ben kicked out of his stirrups and fell off his horse, pulling the young man out of his saddle. Upside down, Ben watched between Umrao’s horse’s legs as the grassy creature’s tail whipped to the side, flinging a spear.

Ben slammed head-first to the ground. His pork pie hat and the long grass must have cushioned the blow because he rolled to his knees without his head spinning. Gunfire and screaming shattered the morning as Ben pulled his revolver. Umrao was moving up to sit, his eyes wide. Blood oozed from the young man’s nose as he pulled his Enfield revolver.

The loudest eagle call Ben had ever heard rattled in his ears as Umrao’s horse reared up and galloped away from the monster, Ben’s horses following. A giant, angry, grass lizard raced toward them, its scythe-like spear leading the way. Still kneeling, Ben aimed for the murderous eye staring out of the grass. He squeezed off a shot that missed but must have found flesh. The monster screamed, its beak going wide.

Ben snapped another shot off toward the reaper’s maw. The golem gurgled and tumbled, its scythe jamming point first into the earth, halting its momentum.

Nearby, a horse let out a blood-curdling screaming squeal. Ben didn’t turn to find it. His eyes were locked onto the two reapers barreling toward him and Umrao. The creatures had released their camouflage songs because patches of sod slid off their green-colored armor as they raced forward, churning their strong bowed legs.

Ben grabbed Umrao under his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Take the one on the right.”

A spear-wielding tail rose above the reaper of Ben’s side as Umrao’s Enfield revolver erupted twice in quick succession. Like throwing darts, the ripvor tossed the javelin-sized spear at the young lancer. Ben pushed Umrao hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled. The steel-tipped shaft whooshed between them, missing Ben’s arm by inches.

Shooting from the hip, Ben emptied his revolver into the midsection of the spear thrower. Umrao righted himself, squeezing off three more shots. Ben couldn’t see the results of the lancer’s bullets. Ben’s target had slowed but kept coming, too close for Ben to grab his other revolver. He threw the gun at the creature’s head and yanked his long knife free of its sheath.

The reaper shifted his war scythe to the side, ready to swing the halberd-like weapon in a wide arc to cut Ben in half. Ben braced himself, calling on his own instinctual survival animal. The monster-filled him, his vision slowing and becoming sharp.

The gunfire and screams of the bigger battle faded while all his senses intensified. The clean, grassy scent of morning dew and the musky bird smell of reapers filled his nostrils. With the ripvor bearing down on him, his inner beast evaluated the situation in a fraction of a second.

Umrao, unaware of the danger, might be struck if Ben ducked the creature’s strike. From the distant trance that his humanity watched, Ben thought, this is gonna hurt.

The charging reaper’s death stare locked onto Ben’s midsection, and its scaly clawed hands twisted, human-sized arms swinging. The scythe-like blade raced toward Ben’s stomach. He took two quick steps forward as he raised his arm.

The shaft slammed into his ribs. “Ugh!”

The monster inside Ben raged, the pain coming with a burst of energy. He wrapped his arm around the shaft and ducked down. Lunging low, he thrust his shortened saber blade below the creature’s armored anklet and through the ripvor’s foot. Using one leg, the reaper hopped backward, pulling Ben forward and his hand free from the D-shaped grip of his knife. The blade stayed where it was skewered in the lizard’s clawed foot.

Pain shot through his broken ribs as the ripvor tried to shake the shaft free of Ben’s grip. He glanced upward and locked glares with two murderous golden orbs glowering down at him over a curved beak.

Refusing to accept defeat, the furious beast within Ben scrambled to find the revolver grip on his left hip as he let loose an animalistic scream, “Grr Argh!”

Hoofbeats thundered in his ears as the beak sprang forward at the end of the reaper’s long neck. Ben let go of the war scythe and fell backward. The razor-sharp point at the end of the reaper’s hawk-shaped beak hooked his shirt. All the buttons popped free as the creature’s head recoiled, and Ben landed on his butt.

Something flashed in Ben’s peripheral vision. The man part of him watched, enthralled. A horse and rider galloped by, the curve of a saber, barely visible in the pre-dawn, whipped across the reaper’s neck.

The bird-head separated and tumbled as a geyser of green shot up and behind the reaper’s body as the sinuous neck kept moving backward. The head rolled down the creature’s green-armored midsection. It struck the ground, coming to a rest on one side of its face between Ben’s spread legs.

Ben stared into that lone hate-filled eye. The beak opened. Ben scrambled back, pushing and kicking his boots against grassy sod as the beak slammed shut an inch from his thigh. Ben jumped to his feet and pulled his other revolver free, aiming at the head. He eased off the trigger. The luster in the reaper’s golden orb had faded away. Relief at having survived washed over him, and the monster loosened its grip.

After a small internal struggle, Ben regained control from his battle-lusting demon and turned in a full circle. Lance Duffadar Ram was wheeling his horse around and trotting back toward Ben. Farther to the right, Ben saw Umrao point his revolver at a horse lying in the grass. A reaper’s javelin protruded from the animal’s side. The young lancer grimaced and pulled the trigger. As the echoes of the shot faded, the absence of more gunfire signaled that the fight had ended. In its place came pained moans and calls for life singers.

Ram’s big grin was white in the increasing light as he reined in his stallion beside Ben.

With a nod, Ben said, “Thanks. I want us on the march again in thirty minutes. Gather the horses that ran. I’ll help triage the wounded to save as many as we can. We’ll make an accounting once we are on the move.”

Like all the dangerous, intelligent creatures on Aaru, Ben needed to keep specific technology out of ripvor hands as long as possible. Ben yelled to Umrao. “Sowar Singh, take a squad and collect every rifle, revolver, and bullet.” When the two men waited for more instruction, Ben said, “Now. Go.”

Umrao saluted and started yelling at the closest men on foot. Lance Duffadar Ram spun his horse around and galloped toward a group of still-mounted riflemen.

There were dozens of clumps in the grass representing his men and their horses. Always a little superstitious, Ben couldn’t help but blame himself as he looked around. His wish for a quiet day had come back to bite him in the ass.

If it hadn’t been for Djoser’s warning, he and Umrao would probably be dead. When the wind singer returned, he’d have to find out how the ripvor were able to get in front of them to set an ambush after he thanked the standoffish babiakhom.

Ben stepped forward and pulled his blood-covered saber free from the headless creature’s foot and then walked behind the body in a slow pattern until he kicked his other revolver. He holstered both guns and moved toward the sound of a human moan.

A giant wolf-man emerged from the shadows, one of the expedition's twenty life singers. Ben jogged toward him, praying the reapers couldn’t keep this up. A thought came to him then. A way to discourage these ambushes from happening again. Ben changed directions and headed toward Umrao and the small group of men he had gathered. As distasteful as it would be, instead of burning their dead like they had after each fight, they needed to load the bodies onto spare horses and empty supply wagons to take with them.

He carried on an imaginary conversation with the ripvor general leading the horde. You will find nothing but your dead troops and a few dead horses.

Warning: Blah blah blah editing. If you haven’t read the previous warnings there is no hope. Really, no hope at all.

Chapter 19

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 79

Ben cradled Agnes in the crook of his arms as he slithered on his belly toward the crest of the hill. Countless marching feet rang in his ears like a cattle stampede in a canyon. On his right, Lance Duffadar Ram and General Kinya crawled along with him while Prince Tambal kept pace on his left. Ben topped the rise and squirmed under a bush that blocked his view. Covered by vines like a briar patch, thorns scrapped and snagged the leather jacket he’d worn just for an occasion like this despite the oppressive heat.

Several hours after Father–– noon on Earth ––scouts sent word that Ben’s army had caught the ripvor horde. It took the rest of the afternoon to reach their selected ambush location. The Ancients’ road–– known as Via West–– ran arrow straight through a range of wooded hills until the highway moved into the dunes of the appropriately named Deshert.

For the past hour, Ben’s small reconnoiter team used the cover of the woods to approach the marching reaper army. Ripvor wind singers floated in lazy buzzard-like circles high above. The enemy flyers formed a ring of aerial sentries around the army's main body.

Ben peeked through the foliage. The hills on the far side of the highway created a valley with the road at the center of the trough. As uncountable as grains of sand, the reapers marched along the thoroughfare in disciplined ranks. The number of the creatures astonished him and sent chills shooting through him. Each of the units wore identical uniforms in red or green. He’d already noticed that the wind singers were all clothed in blue.

Does each color represent a different type of singer? Ben had so many questions. Maybe Abu had read the answers to Ben’s questions in the books he’d been researching.

In the same capacity as cavalry, squads of spear-wielding reapers ran farther from the road and closer to Ben’s lookout point. These outriders ran like roadrunners with their elongated necks leaning forward and their lizard-like tails stretched behind. In the same way as those prairie birds back in Texas, their tails whipped one way and then the other, steering and balancing the creatures with each change of direction. Wearing green or red-tinged light armor, each of these flanking ripvor held several javelin-length spears in their hands, and in a bizarre twist, the tips of each creature’s tail clasped another projectile. He added another question to his Abu list.

Do they throw them with their tails? Ben thought as one of the flanking reapers began running hard toward the road. Ben estimated the creatures were faster than humans but slower than horses by half.

It won’t be like a cavalry charge, but they’ll have more momentum than a human infantry charge. Ben added the ramifications of the ripvors’ speed advantage to all the other items he needed to consider when he had time. Maybe we could use mixed rifle and spearman formations. He shook his head and returned to his observations, focusing on the blocks of reapers on the road.

The formations of red and green stretched to the horizon in either direction. Unlike the flanking ripvor, these giant lizard-ostrich soldiers wore red or green helmets and matching breastplate armor. Interspersed along the column were hundreds of siege engines of different types. Led by blue-clad wind singers, teams of the strange elephant-rhino hybrids, called kabulas, pulled the many trebuches and ballistas.

From such a distance, the details were scarce. Some red formations wielded small shields and the same sarissa-like spears that Alexandrian hoplites carried. Other red and green units carried larger shields, but that was the extent of the detail seen with the naked eye.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved a pair of binoculars. He thanked God and Khepri for his now perfect eyesight as he adjusted the focus. Using binoculars with his spectacles had always been less than ideal. What had been a blur of green came into sharp focus as he adjusted the settings. Ben whistled through his teeth. Rattlers look downright friendly by comparison.

The ripvor below looked identical to the floating image of the creature in the classroom at the Tomb of Mortals, but that did not prepare Ben for the living version. The creatures’ heads moved with the jerky movements of a bird while their legs made the wide-slow bow-legged rotations of a lizard.

The creature’s head reminded Ben of an eagle with its raptor beak, but the cold, soulless eyes struck him the most. The regiment-sized units that carried the larger shields held a war scythe. The weapon consisted of a small spear point topping a scythe-style blade at the end of a four-foot-metal shaft.

Reapers indeed, Ben thought. Makes sense, though. The lean of their bodies and their strange arms would make swords unwieldy.

For several minutes, Ben paid close attention to how the enemy soldiers interacted with each other. The fact that these creatures wore armor and weapons that an Aaruan metal singer might have made proved the aliens’ intelligence. Any comparison to the other intelligent races Ben had interacted with on Aaru ended there.

Hysakas, stirithy, and babiakhom all showed human-like emotions. They were not so strange because all the aliens he’d met understood humor, anger, hatred, and love. The ripvor walked without the banter of every group of soldiers Ben had ever known. They seemed single-minded and showed nothing within those predatory eyes.

One of the keys to defeating your enemy was to know their motivations and anticipate their future actions. How could Ben ever think like these aliens? What motivated them besides their next meal? His stomach turned, having seen what they considered food.

It was as if the entire race had no conscience. Ben remembered the answer to one of Abu’s many questions to Strategos Alexandria bin Zev i Hurasu. During their first dinner party on Aaru, Abu asked what the ripvor wanted. The Alexandrian general replied that the only words ever spoken by one of the creatures were, “Only the smartest and strongest.”

Smartest and strongest, Ben rolled those words around his head as he zeroed in on one particular unit’s leader. Wearing a red breastplate, the officer was discernable by his helmet's horizontal red and white striped plume. Upon approaching this commander, the regular ripvor displayed deference by bowing and bobbing their heads.

Ben nodded as his understanding of his foe solidified. Ripvor society ran on that Darwin fellow’s theories about natural selection. He imagined each individual competing to rise through the ranks. This line of thinking matched what he’d seen of the Ancients’ school at the Tomb of Mortals. The entire weight of moving up a grade fell on the individual to learn the knowledge necessary. Within a few pre-defined rules, only intellectual or physical dominance mattered.

How will they react to weakness? Or perceived weakness? That might be something we can work with.

The cacophony of ripvor feet on the road forced him to tap those near him and use hand signals to motion them to leave. More thorns snagged his clothes and cut into his skin as he wiggled backward on his belly under the briars and over the ridgeline.

The group stayed silent while hiking the mile back to their horses. On the way to the lookout point, General Kinya warned Ben that wind singers could filter sounds like the marching army to hear anything within a quarter of a mile of them. Thus, the small group was silent the entire time.

When they arrived at the stand of trees where they had hidden their horses, two babiakhom waited for them. Ben untied his mare from a tree and joined the loose circle the others formed. One babiakhom, wearing a Kerman wind singer uniform, stood beside Prince Tambal. Another of the ape-like wind singers stood next to General Kinya and wore civilian clothing, matching light blue pants and a shirt. The top had slit sides to accommodate the creature's wings.

A familiar breeze cooled Ben’s forehead. It signaled that one of the babiakhom had placed a sound barrier around them. Not even another wind singer could hear what was said inside the dome of silence.

“The horde is formidable,” said Prince Tambal, his Aaruan words translated to English in Ben’s ears.

General Kinya sneered, “You’re not scared, are you, little brother?”

Hatred flowed from the Prince’s gaze as he replied, “Only a fool would not fear facing that army.”

The general tensed and stepped toward his brother, but Ben snapped, “Enough. We have work to do.”

The broad-shouldered general spat on the ground, breaking his staring contest with his half-brother. “Will our plan work?” He pointed skyward. “With so many flying sentries, can our wind singers even reach the main column?”

“Ram and his sharpshooters will punch a hole through the screen. Our wind singers don’t need much time.” Ben’s mare nuzzled his shoulder, pushing him. He took a half step back before patting her nose. “I’m worried the riflemen will be exposed as they retreat. Our wind singers must draw the ripvor flyers to them.” Ben jutted his chin toward the prince. “Are we sure about the timing? We must attack the rearguard before they leave the hills.”

The Prince placed a hand on the shoulder of the babiakhom next to him. “My lead scout assures me that the reapers will stop for the night.”

The oversized lips of the babiakhom beside General Kinya moved in that strange approximation of human speech. “At the edge of the hills, two Umman forts guard the road. The reapers’ vanguard will reach those fortifications soon. I agree they will rest tonight and attack in the morning. The Ummans will not hold long. An hour or two at most.”

Prince Tamal nodded. “If the reapers begin moving into the Deshert before noon, the rearguard will reach these hills about the same time.”

“Captain Ben. If my men are going to be in position before dark, I need to get moving.” Lance Duffadar Ram saluted.

Ben returned the salute. “Go. But no unnecessary risks.”

The slender Kalari master flashed a sly smile that Ben knew meant, I’m about to kick someone’s ass.

“Yes, sir.” The Lance Duffadar led his horse toward the dense woods where fifty of Ben’s 1^st Kerman Rifles had picketed their horses.

“We also have a lot of work to do before tomorrow. Let’s go.” Ben waved the prince forward and fell in line, making sure to put a buffer between the two warring brothers.

Chapter 20

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 79

Esther marched along the dirt field where Kermans held contests and theatrical plays toward her mother’s quarters. She’d expected the summons earlier. The 4^th Stratia arrived the morning before, but it had taken the better part of two days to get the fifteen-thousand-man army settled into quarters inside the city’s walls. With all the ongoing defensive preparations, the Kerma City was bursting. Thousands of stirithy had taken most of the city’s available housing, forcing all the other allied troops to be quartered outside the walls.

For the Alexandrians, though, Queen Nabra had insisted they stay within the city. Esther thought that a reasonable precaution to counter the lingering Remulan threat. As the old saying goes: My friend, the enemy of my enemy.

Thus, the Alexandrian army encampment occupied all the open space around the coliseum near the government and temple district. One of the two guards outside the tent of the Polemarchos opened the tent flap upon her arrival.

It took a moment for Esther’s eyes to adjust to the lamp light inside. She was surprised to find Prínkipas Archimedes ben Solan i Draco, Basilius Phillip’s brother-in-law, the ambassador to Kerma, and Masako’s granduncle sitting at a table beside her mother.

Not an enemy of my enemy, she thought, trying to gauge the level of animosity between the older man and her mother. As far as she knew, her mother and father had dethroned the ambassador’s brother-in-law.

Esther’s mother held an open hand toward the ambassador. “Good. Lachagos, I believe you know the ambassador.”

Being addressed by a new rank caused Esther to hesitate a half-beat on her next step. Had she been promoted? It was just the kind of thing her mother would have done without consulting her.

Esther snapped to attention before the table and saluted with her fist over her heart. “Polemarchos, reporting as requested.”

The Polemarcho’s chin pointed toward an open chair. “At ease. Sit down and give us a report of your time with the Earthlings.”

Esther sat and folded her hands in her lap as she began recounting the last several months since leaving the 4^th Stratia at Axclatca Pass. “The Earthlings are working to help produce enough guns and ammunition to arm an additional 20,000 riflemen. As my first report from Grrommerrk indicated, there has only been one time where I almost enacted the backup solution. That was during our stay in Nippur. Since coming to Kerma City, I made the decision to allow the Earthlings to help the Kermans against the Remulans. Dr. McGehee’s plan allows them to help without divulging the main secret.”

“It’s good you didn’t act. We will need every advantage the Earthlings can provide to survive the reapers. You did well.” The Polemarchos gave her a tight-lipped smile.

The ambassador frowned. “What is this about a backup solution?”

The Polemarchos turned to address the ambassador. “We had a contingency to eliminate Dr. McGehee before he could fall into the hands of an enemy. He is the only one who knows how to make ammunition for the guns. My husband and I have taken steps to ensure that Alexandria will be the first nation to manufacture a version of the Earthlings guns that does not depend upon his knowledge. Our weapons will not be as powerful as the Earthlings’ current ones, but we will produce enough to defeat the Remulans and ensure our nation’s survival.”

“You do not need to remind me of your treason. I do not know how you expect to get away with your coup.”

“Archimedes.” Esther’s mother patted the older man’s hand. “It is not a coup. Your brother-in-law is still king, and when the Remulan threat is over, we will release him. Our family has no desire to rule, but we could not ignore Phillip’s missteps while dealing with the Remulans.”

The ambassador pulled his hand from under the Polemarchos. “Do you think there will be no consequences for your actions?”

Esther had seen that glint growing in her mother’s eyes only a few times. Death usually followed. Esther’s shoulders tensed, anticipating violence.

Instead, the Polemarcho’s words were icy, “If there are reprisals against the ones I love, I guarantee that Alexandria will need to find a successor for Phillip.”

The two power brokers shot silent arrows back and forth for several seconds before Easter decided to change the subject. “I have one last item to report. I believe it is imperative you know.”

The polemarchos and the ambassador took a second longer to break eye contact and then turn toward Esther.

“Go on,” the Polemarchos said.

“Dr. Ben is no longer the sole source of knowledge. He has been teaching their individual soldiers various parts of the process. He is still the only one with the combined knowledge, but a small group of their soldiers can manage the entire process without him.”

“How did you? Ah. I heard you took an Earthling as a lover.”

Esther’s eyes darted away from her mother’s. Had there been motherly questions in that look? It should not have shocked her that her mother knew about Umrao. She was the head of an entire army, for Adonai’s sake. Those other questions would need to wait until the ambassador was not present. Right now, Esther was a mere captain reporting to her superior officer.

She put steel into her gaze as she looked back at the Polemarchos. “Yes. At this time, Dr. McGehee and Sowar Umrao are with the small force sent to turn the reapers toward Kerma City. The other Earthlings are managing the production of ammunition.”

The ambassador’s animosity seemed to have subsided when he said, “Interesting. Once the lamentations are over, what does all this mean?”

“Once we defeat the horde, we must be prepared to achieve two goals. Stop the Remulans from taking the city and preventing them from obtaining the Earthlings' secrets.”

The ambassador leaned forward. “How do you expect to accomplish all that?”

The Polemarchos’ face turned grave. “More blood.”

Chapter 21

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 80

Goose flesh covered every exposed part of Djoser’s body, and his teeth chattered as the frigid wind burned his face. I’ll need more aloe salve when I get back.

Born in the jungles of Pastruus, he felt at home in hot, humid climates. He enjoyed flying in the arid currents near the Deshert, but because of what he now thought of as his serfitude to the emperor, he was flying as high as he could without risking frostbite.

Maybe it was the reptilian part of a ripvor’s biology that kept them from being able to handle colder altitudes. Regardless, Djoser was grateful. He’d take the cold to avoid getting punctured by reaper bolts.

He checked the sound threads of his shadows. The reapers knew he was there and kept three wind singers in a holding pattern a thousand feet below him. The whooshing sounds of their lines of flight had not changed. He would have plenty of time to adjust if they attempted to fly within crossbow range. Several thousand feet below his trackers, weak slivers of smoke and ash drifted skyward from the burned-out husk of an Umman fort.

Djoser twisted his hands and changed direction, sliding over the currents toward the second stronghold. As he drifted past the road between the two fortifications, packed formations of reapers marched between the dead and dying ramparts, heading into the stark white sands.

Dozens of fireballs made of flaming pitch arched toward the last defiant outpost. Patches of fire dotted the fortress while flames licked at the central hold. The men manning the walls were mere dots from this distance, but somehow, Djoser’s mind filled in the blanks, a phantom stench of charred flesh even turning his stomach.

A useless sacrifice. Fools.

Giant wood panels, the reaper equivalent of a ladder, leaned against the curtain walls, and a swarm of red armored ripvor flowed over the rampart. As a child living in the jungle canopy, Djoser had been terrified at the pain and destruction wrought by a colony of army ants when they overwhelmed a doe and her fawn. Those dying deer's once-forgotten cries brought fresh tears to his eyes. The salty water froze on his cheeks in an instant.

So much death.

With a tilt of his arm, he made a sharp turn and headed toward the ambush point. His ripvor shadows altered their flight paths with him. He really should have worn a face mask against the biting wind. Just stay alive, he thought, but his mind still drifted to daydream about his future.

When this war was over, Djoser had prayed to Shai that the determiner would allow him to change his fate. He had promised to take his Remulan money and set up a noodle shop at the top of a pleasant tree in Pastruus. The wheat and rice-based noodles, staples of poor people across Yuhi, became his favorites. He liked them so much that he spent an entire winter learning to create the perfect noodles and broth from a master.

As he neared his target, Djoer turned in a wide, slow circle around the ambush area, his anticipation rising by the minute. The emperor and General Kinya expected him to take meticulous notes of the coming battle. Both men wanted to understand every detail about the tactics used by their reluctant allies now that the Kermans had access to the Earthlings’ guns and the improved version of hand-held bombs.

Far below, the last ripvor soldiers in the horde’s rearguard marched by the hills where he knew the Kermans waited. As if choreographed for Djoser’s viewing, rifle flashes flickered like fireflies from the woods at the top of several hills, the rifle blasts unable to reach him. A half dozen ripvor flyers dropped like downed birds while several others spiraled out of control. Djoser winced, remembering the wound he’d taken from an Earthling sniper. It hurt like hell and came close to killing him.

More tiny flames erupted far below, and again, reapers dropped from the sky. In bunched groups of four, Kerman wind singers flew low over the surrounding hills, closing on the road. As they crossed over the snipers' location, the Kerman flyers arched higher, climbing out of spear range from the ripvor outriders in the valley below. These flanking reapers still whipped their long tails, flinging their javelins skyward in futile attempts to protect the main body of their army. Unphased, the Kermans raced toward the enemy soldiers.

Sparks continued flashing in ones and twos from the same wooded hilltops, killing or wounding the closest enemy flyers. Dozens of enemy wind singers were flying toward the fray from the other side of the valley. These enemy reserves dove at the low-flying Kermans. More and more injured or lifeless ripvors smashed into the ground, never to move again. The attacking Kerman wind singers weren’t helpless. They used hand-held guns to shoot down the few enemy flyers who made it past the Kerman sharpshooters’ well-aimed shots.

Boom. Boom. Djoser flinched as the arm and wheel of a trebuchet blasted skyward. Like stalks of scythe-cut wheat, dead reapers lay in rings around scorch-marked soil from the black powder explosions. More blasts detonated up and down the column of marching ripvor as ballistae, catapults, and trebuchets turned to splintered messes.

The first set of four Kerman wind singers turned toward another target when a black cloud of bata dove upon them without a sound. Ripvor wind singers flew within the writhing mass of furry, flying carnivores, masking the approach of the swarm. The four flyers in red didn’t have time to defend themselves as the little devils slammed into the Kermans.

Damn. I need to remember that trick—time to go.

Djoser flew straight toward where most of the Kerman and Remulan army waited. The ambushing wind singers who had survived fled in the same direction. All the nearby enemy flyers and a good ten thousand bata chased after them.

__________________________

“One minute out. Reapers and bata in pursuit.” Ben jumped. Like a ghost yelling an inch from his ear, the English words came without warning.

The trap had been sprung. Ben licked his lips, his apprehension rising.

We’re ready, he told himself.

He tried to settle his nerves by bouncing up and down a few times. After raising his binoculars, he focused on the horizon. Babiakhom and human wind singers in red Kerman uniforms popped into view from behind the farthest hill as if launched from a cannon. They raced toward Ben’s location with a posse of several hundred flying ripvor and a swirling swarm of giant bats fast on their heels.

Two decades ago, Ben faced waves of bayonet-wielding blue coats and held his ground. That experience did not prepare him for the cold terror rising from his soul when he saw the tidal wave of bata flesh. Even the beast within, the one that lusted for battle and death shook with fear. Run, it screamed.

I will not! To run meant certain death, and he channeled his terror into anger, whipping the beast into a rage. Fight, coward!

A primal part of him, the part that controlled his fight or flight reflex, realized its back was against the wall with no chance of avoiding the coming clash. His instinct to survive summoned his resolve, bringing forth his bloodlust. With his humanity walking the border between control and berserk, he took a deep breath and put the binoculars away. Lord, keep Ram and his men safe. Strengthen this fence and lend me your courage.

Ben spun toward the nearby soldiers and bellowed, “Stand firm. We are safe inside.” He locked his fiery eyes with those men until they showed resolve. Then he turned to the men holding the gate open. “Hold until our men are inside.”

All along the hilltop, his soldiers relayed his command while others brought rifles to their shoulders. More men stabbed arrows into the ground or checked their spears one last time. Every pair of eyes he met showed the same escape or stand-your-ground debate he had just had.

Come on, you bastards.

The allied flyers streaked toward the hilltop. They aimed at marked gaps between the twenty-foot-tall trees. Ben placed the barrel of his rifle on the branch he’d picked for stability. He tucked his chin, resting it against the well-worn stock of his Winchester, and aimed at one of the enemy wind singers, closing the gap between the Kerman singers it chased.

With the ripvor at the edge of his rifle’s range, he lined his sight up on center mass, measured the speed and moved his sight to lead the creature, blew out a slow breath, and squeezed the trigger. His target kept coming.

He cocked Agnes and aimed again. The trigger resisted his pull until his steady squeeze slammed the hammer down. The reapers’ manufactured wings wobbled then dipped, the long-necked creature’s head hanging lifeless as it spun toward the ground.

The carbines of the 1^st Kerman Rifles boomed all around while green-fletched Remulan and red-fletched Kerman arrows sprung toward the living tornado bearing down on them.

Ben worked the lever again and focused on his next target’s hawkish face. The reaper's head snapped back, and the miniature dragon nose-dived into some trees at the bottom of the hill.

The first Kerman wind singer swooped between trees and began arresting her flight. Ben’s eyes darted between the allied wind singers and his next target. The enemy never slowed.

It’s working. Wait for it, Ben thought as a second and third allied singer flashed through. One of the last Kerman flyers took a crossbow bolt in his leathery wing and crashed in a heap a few yards outside their wired enclosure.

A soldier stepped past the wire to assist him but was yanked backward by his comrades. The men working the gate pulled the barbed wiring across the opening, leaving the wounded babiakhom to his fate.

One blue-clad ripvor and a wave of writhing bata were thirty yards away. Light from An became diffused as the reapers and their pets closed to within twenty yards, blocking most of the Aaruan star’s rays.

Ben found a target and went to work, counting each trigger pull. At five, the screeching swarm of bata slammed into the quilt of woven barbed wire in a slapping thud. The savage sound made him step backward, his eyes darting to the fencing. He gulped, praying the metal singers had made it pliable and strong enough.

The mesh bent inward but held. The spread wings of the creatures blocked all light from Ben’s front. A little sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above, casting the scene in macabre shadows.

Barbs built into the mesh tore at bat flesh as the creature’s nasty-looking mouths and razor-sharp teeth chewed at the metal braids. Above the blood-curdling bata screams were the constant whack, whack, whack as more dachshund-sized bodies crashed into the backs of their flock mates.

Ben had never imagined a nightmare like this. Hatred pulsed from the mass, and an overwhelming claustrophobic panic washed over him. Some men fell to the ground, covering their heads, mouths opened in silent screams.

Lord, help me. Our Father... A stillness flowed through him as he recited the Lord’s prayer.

Ben had a job to do and stepped closer to the screen, its thin wires keeping death at bay. He aimed between the metal gaps to avoid causing their protective layer to fray.

At fifteen shots, he put Agnes aside and pulled his long knife and a revolver. Packed so tight that the dead creatures couldn’t fall, Ben walked within a foot of the writhing mass of fur and stabbed anything that moved.

Bata climbed over their brethren and soon hissed down at them from above. The dome of wire that Ben’s troops had constructed worked to perfection. Almost.

With each pull of a trigger at the animals on top, blood and guts rained down. Ben didn’t know how long this nightmare lasted. His clothes became soaked in bat blood, and rivulets of viscous maroon ran off the brim of his hat. In that hell of blood, bullets, and deafening animal screams, he felt as if God’s presence had abandoned him. On the verge of losing his mind, he made a desperate attempt to keep his sanity by relinquishing control to the beast.

From a disembodied place, he watched his arm stabbing through the wire like a piston of death. The inner beast’s lustful battle cries drifted to him as whispers while its terror-filled rage protected him like a mental shield.

“They’ve had enough,” boomed in his ears.

Ben tried to wrest back control. Only his shaky legs and the lagging strength in his arms allowed the human to reappear as the monster sought rest. Dappled light brightened the inside of their cage as more of the surviving bata flew away from the top. He fell onto his butt, too exhausted to appreciate their victory or care for anything but having survived.

Anvil-weighted arms protested every movement as he unscrewed the lid to his canteen and splashed water on his face. Desperate to wash away the feel of parched sand in his throat, Ben swiped at the mess around his lips, flicking gore away. After rinsing his eyes and mouth again, Ben took a drink. The cool, refreshing goodness of the water reminded him that God still existed.

__________________________

“Ram, what do you think?” Ben twisted to look at his second in command.

The corner of Lance Duffadar Ram’s lip twitched up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You are insane, and we are going to die.”

Ben shook his head. “Besides the obvious, what do you think about the plan?” He lifted his pork pie, the hat’s felt material still tacky to the touch despite him scrubbing it in a forest stream for several minutes after the battle. With his last clean bandana, he wiped his forehead, waiting for the lancer’s reply.

“Plan’s simple. It has that going for it.” The skinny man’s face lit up. “Just walk up to the bully, punch him in the nose, and run away. Simple.”

“You forgot, don’t let the bully catch you.”

The small man’s smile faded. “That part’s a little shaky. Don’t you think?”

Ben turned to stare down the Ancients’ miracle road. The eons-old highway showed no signs of wear, even after an army of half a million giant lizards marched over its soft, almost spongy turf.

He peered through his binoculars at the horde. Thousands of ripvor filled the lenses. The enemy’s rearguard had stopped and turned a battle line ten ranks deep toward Ben and his three hundred dragoons. “We have to bloody them until they can’t ignore us.”

Despite the ripvors’ losses during the initial attack, scouts reported that the horde continued marching in the opposite direction. They were not turning to face Ben’s much smaller army. He had hoped against all expectations that they would. Most of his past enemies weren’t very accommodating to his plans either. These bird-brained lizards were no different.

After allowing the men to clean up and rest for several hours, Ben and Ram led the 1^st Kerman Rifles through the hills, chasing the tail of the reaper army. The Remulan horse archers and the Kerman chariots moved into supporting positions to help Ben’s mounted 1^st Kerman Riflemen during what he hoped was a tactical withdrawal, not a full-on rout.

Ben swept his binoculars to his left and then to his right. Four out of every five of his three hundred soldiers had dismounted and formed firing lines. The fifth man still rode his horse and held the reigns of five other men’s horses. Each horse had another riderless horse tethered to it to allow them to hopefully outpace the reapers when they retreated. Sowar Umrao Singh came into focus, and Ben watched him for several seconds as the youngest lancer organized his squad of riflemen into ranks.

Ben had made sure that Ram placed the Umrao closest to their escape route. The young man had been shaken by the nightmare battle with the bata swarm. He prayed the young man’s nerves recovered when the fight resumed. Ben made one more sweep of the enemy and then put the binoculars away. It was time to make the ripvor hurt.

He pointed to the enemy’s flanks. “Tell the troops to focus their fire on the flanking units. They are the fastest.”

In Aaruan, the Lance Duffadar barked orders to two of the six messengers that followed behind Ben. The riders galloped in opposite directions, only stopping to speak to each squadron’s commander. Ben thought again how much he could use a babiakhom to relay messages. Then again, they needed every wind singer in the air. The expedition lost twelve of the flyers during the ambush.

About ten thousand reptilian creatures formed the middle of the ripvor formation. Four regiment-sized units of green-armored, sarissa-toting hoplites anchored the center of the line. Another two regiments of red-armored, heavy infantry stood to either side of those. At least a thousand lightly armored outrider-style ripvor stood on each flank. Ben had come to think of these types as light cavalry, and they organized themselves into squadrons of both red and green.

A high-pitched squawking war cry rose from the reapers. All the hairs on Ben’s neck stood as if nails scratched down a chalkboard. With perfect precision, the enemy army stepped forward. The reapers let out a strange, whistled cadence with each stride.

It was all very annoying, and Ben shook his head.

His sharpshooters opened fire when the distance between the two forces shrank to 1000 yards. Dozens of the reapers’ light cavalry dropped in their tracks. After five partial volleys and a hundred dead, the ripvor commanders recognized their danger.

One flank trotted forward. A few seconds later, the other flank sped up. The units at the center of the ripvor line kept their regular cadence. As the light cavalry closed to eight hundred yards, two hundred and fifty stirithy made martini-Henri replicas fired in unison. At least a hundred streaking lizards tumbled face-first to the dirt, their bodies flipping over their bowlegged, rotating legs.

Ben shuddered, an eerie chill running up his spine. Most of the dying reapers had not made a sound. The boom of the coordinated volley echoed between the rolling hills to either side of the road. The surviving ripvor light cavalry screeched their anger and charged at full speed toward the Kerman riflemen. Ben pulled his Winchester from its saddle holster and rested the butt of the rifle on the ground. He needed to stay above the fray as long as possible.

The riflemen, standing and kneeling in two ranks, took turns firing. Every five seconds, a hundred bullets flew toward the charging reapers. At five hundred yards, only half the light cavalry, their legs churning like pinwheels, still raced forward.

A fog of black powder drifted from each group of riflemen. The slight breeze pushed the mist toward the charging foe.

At three hundred yards, a quarter of the reapers still lived. Yet on they came, hawkish beaks leading the way. The bird heads bobbed and swayed from the end of long necks stretched out in front of their bulbous torsos. Each creature held a bundle of spears close to their bodies. Their long tails flicked and bounced back and forth, a spear standing upright in the curled tip of the creature’s tail.

At one hundred yards, less than a hundred remained. The leading reaper’s tails whipped to the side and upward. Spears flew toward the bunched riflemen. Most fell short, but a few of the javelins broke a squadron’s ordered ranks as men scrambled out of the way.

With the riflemen no longer firing in booming volleys, the echoes changed to a constant crack and pop of individual rifle fire. Behind the enemy’s doomed light cavalry charge, the ripvor’s main battle line changed pace to a trot. The last enemy cavalry lizard let out a garbled squawk and spun to the dirt as disciplined blocks of the predators behind them charged. Their straight ranks began to bow as the war scythe carrying heavy infantry outpaced the center creatures carrying the unwieldy sarissa spears.

Ben yelled in Aaruan, “Sound the mount call.”

The young Kerman beside him lifted a lengthy horn to his lips using both hands. He blew three short notes. Bet it’s hard to play that thing on the move. I need to get Ssherrss to make some bugles.

The squadrons moved through the practiced process of retrieving the reins to their horse and mounting.

With most of the men on their horses, Ben called to the horn man, “Volleyfire.”

His mounted troops faced the charging wave of green and red. Fire spit from twenty rifles at a time, Each squadron firing at their own pace. Holes appeared in the enemy line. Each dying reaper tripping two or more of those following it.

When the enemy charge reached three hundred yards, Ben yelled at the horn man, “Retreat at the trot.”

The horn let out one long note, then a quick one.

“Is this the don’t get caught part?” Beside Ben, Ram spun his stallion. “Good luck.” He yelled over his shoulder as he spurred his horse forward.

Ben shook his head and followed him. Every few seconds, he peeked over his shoulder. The enemy let out a full-throated warble that boomed in the small valley. The unadulterated passion in the sound made Ben’s skin crawl. Is that a victory cry? Or kill the weaklings?

The distance between the armies narrowed to two hundred yards.

“Signal, to the gallop.”

The horn let out two quick but shaky blasts. Ben thought, Definitely, need bugles.

Ben patted his mare’s neck as he urged her to a gallop. As he leaned over his saddle horn, he looked under his arm. The distance to the reapers no longer shrank, and within a minute, the gap grew.

An abrupt, raspy squall followed by a hissing growl boomed behind him.

Damn right. This prey is getting away.

Another warble rose, and he looked over his shoulder. The ripvor’s disciplined formations lost shape as individual reapers picked up speed and the gap shrank.

Spoke too soon.

Ben waved to the men on his right and angled his mare a little in the other direction. His riding riflemen, the very definition of dragoons, followed his lead. They needed to reach a narrow gap between the hills on his left before the gap became too close. A winged ripvor slammed into the ground a few yards from his horse. He glanced up and then behind. Dozens of Kerman wind singers zoomed in loops and arches through the sky, intermingled with even more reapers. No bata.

Thank you, Lord.

Ben spurred the mare’s haunch, asking her for more speed. She whinnied and added a little velocity. The riderless stallion tethered behind answered with a neigh and picked up his pace.

The angle of their ride cut the distance to the fastest reapers, the ones in red that Ben deemed to be heavy infantry, which moved to within a hundred yards of the dragoons following him. The first of his troops disappeared into a ravine between two rocky hills. Ben stayed high in the saddle, leaning over the horn until he passed into the shadows. He slowed to navigate the creek bed, and the irregular gullies cut into the bedrock from eons of runoff.

He had to trust that the troops behind him had made it as he followed Lance Duffadar Ram’s two horses to the box end of the small canyon. Pebbles and small rocks bounced down the slope as several hundred horses scrambled up. His horse was lathered and breathing hard by the time she broke over the ledge. To the left and right, his soldiers had lined up, and shots flew down range, over the heads of the last of Ben’s retreating dragoons.

Ben didn’t stop to look. He needed to get his horse to the rally point and out of the way of those coming behind. A hundred Kerman archers, the ones who rode in the chariots, were lined up on one side of the rim. He dismounted, tossing his reins to a designated horse handler. He pulled Agnes from the rifle holster and sprinted back toward the ledge.

Like a mass of red-carapaced cockroaches, the ripvor heavy infantry flowed into the ravine. The corkscrew strides of the front-running creatures were so strange, creating an almost hypnotic motion in Ben’s eyes. He forced his eyes away from the reptilian legs to gauge the effectiveness of the arrows, bullets, and boulders raining down into the gully.

One of Ben’s main concerns turned out to not be an issue. Mists of green followed the strike of a bullet, and a fine sheen of the green stuff soon coated the red armor of nearby reapers. That armor seemed no more effective than that worn by a Remulan legionary.

Creepers, as Jeevan would say. Ben chuckled, knowing his friend would have loved to have been right here in the thick of this.

The occasional bird cry of pain spoiled the unnatural silence of most of the dying creatures. Close enough now to see the aliens’ amber eyes, Ben found nothing but a fearless killing focus in the creature’s golden orbs.

Ben didn’t feel quite the same pull from his inner beast. As if fighting and killing these unfeeling beings didn’t feed the darkest parts of Ben’s soul. Whatever the reason, he focused on the sight at the end of his rifle. He’d line it up on the the head of a charging ripvor, move it forward a bit, and then pull the trigger before moving his barrel to the next hawk-like face.

Relentless, reapers scrambled over their fallen and kept coming despite the hail of bullets. A few red armored troops stopped and laid hands or tails on fallen comrades. Ben assumed these were life singers, but he couldn’t find anything about their appearance to denote their life singing abilities.

He could not consider the topic anymore as his eyes flew to a peculiar spectacle. A few of the more determined bird-lizards ran up and along the canyon’s stone wall to bypass the bodies and ranks of reaper infantry pressing at the backs of those in front. Ben moved his barrel toward the wall-runners with the best chance to break through.

When Agnes clicked empty, Ben blinked in surprise. Had he really pulled the trigger fifteen times? He stepped back and tried to appraise the overall situation. Lizard bodies were piled at least three deep in the ravine with no end in sight to the wave of red charging reapers. The riflemen were burning through their ammunition and needed to disengage.

Lance Duffadar Ram was directing fire on the other side of the ridge. The company's horn blower kneeled beside the lance duffadar, firing his carbine. Ben stepped behind the lines of prostrate, kneeling, and standing Kerman riflemen arrayed around the edge and jogged to where he had seen Ram.

A wind singer broadcast went out. “General McGehee.” Sounded in the ears of every man on the ridge.

Ben hoped it hadn’t disrupted anyone’s aim as he answered, “Yes, what news?”

It was disconcerting, yet incredible, to Ben that just by Ben’s speaking, the wind singer could locate and then isolate his voice to communicate with him alone.

“The enemy is attempting to work around you on both flanks.”

“Understood. Tell Prince Tambal and General Kinya to begin the controlled withdrawal.”

“Will do.”

Ben squirmed through a rank of marksman, making sure each man near him was aware of his presence. The last thing he wanted to do was to die by friendly fire.

He tapped the trumpeter on the shoulder and leaned toward his ear to yell. “Call for grenades. Then call for retreat.”

The man nodded and slung his carbine over his shoulder before reaching for the horn tied to his belt that hung below his knee.

Should have just had the wind singer tell everyone. Ben needed to remember the abilities of his soldiers.

Ben waited for Ram to expel a spent cartridge before getting the lance duffadar’s attention. He started to scream but paused, his mouth open, when the trumpeter let out three loud blasts. All around him, the firing lessened as every third man stepped back and began lighting the fuses to a grenade.

Another two horn calls and the firing dropped off more as first the prone men disengaged, then the standing line of riflemen stepped back. A coordinated bird screech made Ben glance into the ravine. Encouraged by fewer bullets flying at them, the red armored ripvor renewed their efforts. For the first time, a few reapers closed within twenty yards of the slope leading to the ledge where Ben stood.

He knelt beside Ram as the grenadiers swung the hourglass-shaped bombs overhead like slingers. Ben had seen the troops practice this, but having dozens of armed grenades flying around made him more than a little uneasy.

The projectiles began to fly, and Ben marveled at the distance they flew. Several of the bombs landed in the middle of the mass of lizard-birds. Muffled thumps punctuated by flying lizard parts showed the effectiveness of these throws. Even more of the grenades exploded while airborne, causing hundreds of projectiles to rain down over a larger area. Each golden red explosion caused mass casualties amongst the ripvor pressed into the ravine.

Packed tight, most of the dead lizards didn’t fall. They just stopped wiggling a moment before they stopped all movement.

Ram pulled on Ben’s sleeve, drawing his attention from the terrible enthralling scene. Ben shook his head and jogged after the lance duffadar toward the rally point and his horses. Most of the men and horses had disappeared around a nearby hill ahead of him. Those in sight were moving at a fast but controlled pace.

His and Ram’s mounts were the last ones being held by the already mounted Kerman rifleman. The man gave them a broad smile, handed them the reins, and then spun his horses toward the retreating men.

Ben stepped into the stirrup on the stallion and hauled himself into his saddle. The horse minders had already switched the horses, so Ben’s mare was now tethered behind the stallion. He nudged his horse into a walk and looked behind him. The riflemen in the final line were sprinting toward their horses.

Fifty yards behind them, a reaper scrambled over the ledge. A ripvor officer wearing a helmet with horizontal feather adornments let out a loud warble. Another reaper topped the ledge, raised his war scythe high, and released a raptor-like high-pitched cry. Ben didn’t need to see what followed. He faced forward, kicking his horse into a fast trot to catch up to Ram.

“General McGehee,” called the unseen wind singer.

“Yes?” Ben replied.

“General Kinya.”

“Yes.”

“Prince Tambal.”

“Here.”

“Our scouts at the front of the horde have confirmed that the reaper army has stopped and is turning back. We believe they are coming after you.”

Prince Tambal’s words echoed in the background of the English translation. “Good. It worked.”

“Don’t feel too happy, little brother. They will be chasing us for the next two weeks,” General Kinya taunted.

Ben ignored the verbal jousting from estranged siblings and asked, “Is the first advance team ready?”

The wind singer replied, “They have the next ambush prepared. The second team has started work on the next position.”

It’s going to be a near thing. If the expedition simply ran, it could outpace the horde, but the reapers would reach Kerma City days too soon. And there was no guarantee the ripvor would keep pursuing them if they broke contact. They had no other option than to zig-zag their way back to the city, taking bites out of the reapers like a gnat on a bull’s ass.

Warning: Professional editing will come but its not here yet. Read at your own grammatical risk. Also, the contents of these chapters will be altered during the editing process so some events/scenes may change drastically.

Chapter 16

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 76

Abu helped Miss Louisa put down the large, heavy bag she carried. He wiped the mist from his eyes and readjusted his waxed poncho to protect his face better. The roar of Tefnut Falls overwhelmed every other sound as they unpacked their supplies.

It had taken them most of the morning to load everything they needed for their Seba experiments onto the horse. Two of the three lancers accompanying them stayed with the animal. They waited far enough down the cliff path to be well away from the giant falls spray and out of range of the Seba’s transfer dome. The lancers would observe the effects of the beam and track the time between transfers.

Sowar Negi helped Miss Louisa put out the sandbags. Abu thought the sowar, out of the three lancers helping them with the experiment, must have drawn the short straw. Last night, he spent several hours with Abu learning to operate the Seba.

Common sense told Abu to avoid universe-traversing travel unless necessary. Even knowing that someone had to test the new settings. So here he was, a test subject along with the reluctant sowar.

Abu hoped that after today, they would have enough information to halt the testing process. If the small dome’s radius could accommodate the entire party, they’d only need one round trip.

“Abu, please lay out the Seba and make sure to set the destination to take us back to our last campsite,” Miss Louisa shouted into his ear. “We don’t want to show up in the canyon and get captured by the villagers.”

With a nod, Abu moved to do as instructed and then had a moment of panic. What if the Seba couldn’t hear his voice command to display the different selections? He didn’t want to march back to the horse just to be heard.

Just have to give it a go, he thought.

With his pants soaked through, Abu wriggled from discomfort as he paced off to the middle of the tiny plateau. He located the device far from the giant metal doors set into the cliff, so when he activated it, the beam of light struck the roof of water rushing over the rock overhang. Abu laid the four spheres out in the correct pattern.

Here goes nothing, Abu thought as he raised the diamond-shaped object to his mouth and shouted, “Squawk, squawk.”

“Praise Allah,” he muttered as the floating characters appeared.

The column of Ancients’ symbols kept floating above the double pyramid as he placed it on the ground in the center of the square formed by the spheres.

Abu poked the characters that stood for the destination, and a lifelike globe popped into existence, replacing the lines of the Ancients’ text. He spun the ethereal Earth around with a hand until Egypt came into view. More significant than the other white pinpricks, the brighter light glowed inside the imaginary borders of Egypt. The other pinpricks around the globe didn’t make sense. What’s different?

Rotating the blue planet around, Abu peered at each spark. It wasn’t until he saw the two lights near his hometown of Aleppo that it hit him. The Egyptian lights represented multiple destinations bunched up together. Abu moved his head an inch above the Egyptian light but still couldn’t make out the differences. How do I look closer?

A tap on his shoulder caused Abu to yelp and jump. Louisa laughed at him as she moved her mouth close to his ear. “What’s wrong?”

“There are a lot of lights in that one location. We need to get lower to the ground over Egypt.”

She nodded, her mouth forming a frown. “Ask it to get closer.”

Abu shrugged. It worked to bring up the options, so maybe it would work. It took him a moment to remember how to say ‘closer’ and ‘bigger’ in the Ancients’ tongue. Going to his knees, he bent below the globe and put his mouth near the diamond object.

“Caw,” he shouted. Nothing happened. “Tweet.” Again nothing.

They’d hit a real roadblock. Abu couldn’t just press the larger light, hoping to get lucky. What if they appeared in front of the villagers? That would be a disaster. He stood, held his hands open, and bobbed his shoulders, trying to signal his lack of options.

Miss Louisa tapped a finger on her chin, a drop of water falling from her nose with each tap. She spread her hands wide and hugged the ball of blue. With a hand in the Pacific Ocean and another in the Atlantic, she squeezed the representation of Earth like a balloon. To Abu’s amazement, the planet shrunk, staying inside her grasp. She pulled her hands apart, and the sphere of the planet stayed small. Miss Louisa’s chest heaved a sigh.

Grabbing the blue ball again, Miss Louisa dug her fingers into the apparition and pulled accordion-style. The ball grew and kept growing until she let go. Twice as big as it had been when it first appeared, Abu didn’t even need to bend to see the features of the landscape over Egypt. Miss Louisa dusted off her wet hands with a look of smugness.

Abu leaned in and yelled, “Great job.”

She pointed to the section of the map about two inches by two inches. A light pulsed outside the mountainous terrain at the center of the Sinai Desert. Two more lights blinked nearby. One lit up inside a miniature box canyon, while another sparkled next to the crescent valley where the tiny temple stood. Abu poked where she pointed. That spark became bigger and brighter than the other lights.

Miss Louisa waved Sowar Negi to them, and they put their heads together.

“We’re ready.” Miss Louisa turned around, pointing to the concentric circles of small apple-sized sandbags surrounding the device. They would measure the width of the dome.

Sowar Negi nodded and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Here we go,” Abu yelled as he picked up a sphere and pushed the first symbol in the Seba activation process.

Planet Earth disappeared from the heavy mist, and the Ancients’ symbol pulsed to life on the gray metal. Onward, he moved, pressing symbols on each of the four spheres. When the final step in the instructions remained, he glanced to Miss Louisa, who jutted her chin in ascent. Abu pressed the glyph on the double pyramid and let go. The object floated. The four cantaloupe-sized objects rose into the air.

Light beamed from the spheres connecting the four into a bright square. The diamond zoomed through the square and stopped several feet about it. More flashes came, lashings of light tying the five objects together. The Seba began to spin, an impossible pyramid of light. Translucent blue light rose from the center point. A bowl formed, filling the space under the water sheet spilling over the high cliff.

The spin became impossible to follow until the glowing pyramid looked solid. Abu marveled as the drops of water in the air suddenly froze in place as if time had stopped. In that instant, a giant beam of white exploded upward, and Abu fell. He became the beating heart inside a bolt of lightning.

__________________________

Both hands went to Louisa’s head. Ugh! Another hangover, she thought as she squeezed down harder on her eyelids. She had hoped her second trip across the void would end better than her first, but no luck. At least the roar of the falls had disappeared.

Panic shot through her like the chills accompanying the fast-moving, cool breeze blowing over her soaked clothes. Where are we?

With effort, she opened her eyes. She stared at a half-moon and a sky bursting with stars. Her fear fled with her recognition. They were home. It was her sky. Her moon.

Is it really, though? Home? Louisa questioned herself.

Abu’s shadow appeared in the moonlight, holding out a hand. “Need some help?”

Louisa pushed herself up with her elbows before grabbing his hand. On her feet, she wobbled with the same loss of equilibrium she felt the first time she had done this.

She placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder to balance herself. “Don’t you have a headache?” Her finger and thumb rubbed at her temples. “And aren’t you dizzy?”

“No, ma’am.” Abu shrugged. “I was a little queasy when I first woke up, but that went away quickly.”

Louisa's teeth chattered as she said, “We need to document these physical symptoms. Maybe age contributes to the disorientation,”

Next time I need to bring a jacket. Neither Louisa nor Abu accounted for coming back during a colder desert night.

From behind Abu, Sowar Negi said, “I have a headache, but I wasn’t dizzy this time. I’ll go check the measurements so we can get started back.” He jogged away, dodging several large dark lumps Louisa assumed were boulders.

She felt like herself by the time the sowar returned with the answer. The third circle of sandbags did not cross the universe to Egypt. With at least a fifty-foot diameter, the smaller Seba dome could accommodate everyone, along with extra luggage. Even Chetak fit, though he needed more room. No one wanted to awaken, buried under the mighty warhorse’s haunches.

The smaller setting also allowed them to make more trips on a single charge, though Louisa wasn’t too concerned about that issue. She’d brought all the needed equipment to make returning to the Ancients’ waterfall facility less complicated.

Abu began realigning the device’s components on the barren, hard-packed soil. Rubbing her arms against the cold, Louisa and the sowar watched the young man work in the dark. It took very little time. As Abu asked her permission to get started, the answer to the question troubling Louisa for days struck hard.

The Seba, she thought, holding up a hand to pause the young man. “Abu, how fast could you lay out the Seba and then do all the steps to activate it?”

“Less than a minute. If I practiced for speed, I could do it in thirty seconds.”

Excitement replaced Louisa’s chill as the plan took shape. Her words relayed her mood even if Abu couldn’t see her smile. “Great. Go ahead and take us back.”

Abu asked, “Why’d you ask how fast I could do it?”

Louisa’s mind had moved on to the next problem in her growing plan. “Oh. Just something I’m working on.”

“That usually spells trouble.” Abu pushed the first symbol. It flared to life, lighting up his furrowed brow.

“This time, it’s for a good cause.” She held up a finger. “Though, I’ll need your help.”

Shaking his head, Abu pushed another symbol on the surface of the next sphere, and his face glowed. “Don’t you usually?”

Chuckling, Louisa replied, “I’m pretty good at getting into trouble on my own.” She waved the back of her hand at him. “Let’s get back. I have to climb the cliff and recharge the Seba today.”

Confident the next piece of the puzzle would come to her while clinging to the rock, Louisa hopped from foot to foot as Abu worked the magic. He picked up the double pyramid to finish the sequence. Her mind had already moved on from the headache to come. Focused, she pondered how to get Abu and herself invited to meet Emperor Octavius. The moment before her world flashed white, she thought, We’re coming, Masako. We’re coming.

__________________________

Flames shot from the end of the metal tube and for half a second, momentum built. Tiny vibrations caused the rocket to shimmer on its support rod until it whooshed up and away. Ali tracked the trajectory until it crashed with a crunch into a fallow field almost a mile away.

He counted. At four, an explosion sent a shower of dirt in the air.

“The fuse was too long again.” He rubbed the end of his pencil against his chin. “It’s a fine line. If I take out too much, the operator will be limited on the angle of fire.” Ali penciled in the results, then turned to his assistant Ebony. “Tell them to shorten the warhead fuse by a quarter.”

With blond fur that bordered on white, the female stirithy nodded and said in Greek, “I will, but I agrree. A delayed explossion is betterr than exploding too ssoon. Anything elsse?”

“How is the Hale design going?” Ali watched a Kerman soldier place a thin pole topped by a lashed three-foot rocket into the grooved board. By changing the angle of the V-shaped launch board, the rocketeer controlled the rocket’s trajectory and thus its distance.

“Needss worrk. It won’t be rready in timme,” Ebony’s snout opened and closed with each syllable like a sock puppet.

Glad I went with Dr. McGehee’s Congreve design, Ali thought. “Keep a skeleton crew on testing the new model. Reassign every other metal singer to production. I hope the black powder team will have enough to fill them.”

Ebony made a note on a piece of parchment.

The soldier stepped to the side of the launcher. He stretched out a thin stick topped by a small flame to light the long wick-like fuse hanging from the bottom of the metal-tubed rocket. In seconds, another missile whooshed skyward. Ali monitored the rocket’s flight path. It landed within fifty feet of its target, well within the acceptable area. As the warhead exploded, he nodded his approval. The first models of the missile they built were as likely to turn and fly toward the rocketeer as toward the target. Progress indeed.

The stirithy tapped Ali on the shoulder. With her black-masked face, she waved toward a dark-skinned man wearing a brown tunic standing well back and to the side. The man nodded in acknowledgment. Ali handed his notebook to the assistant and hurried to his spy.

With eyes darting in every direction, the man leaned toward Ali and whispered, “The Earthling woman and the boy took some of their soldiers back up the cliff to the location of the Ancients’ facility under the falls.”

What are you up to, Miss Louisa? Ali could think of only one thing to send the troublemakers back to the power station. “Are they still there?”

The spy shook his head. “They stayed for almost five hours. When they left, I came straight to you, but something unusual happened while they were there.”

Ali waited for several seconds, but when the spy didn’t continue, Ali’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, man.”

The spy chuckled. “The falls themselves had an unusual hiccup. The Earthlings had been there for about an hour when water shot up at the top of the falls, and several small rainbows appeared near the disruption. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The Seba? Could they have gotten it working? Ali’s thoughts tripped on the ramifications. “What were they doing when that happened?”

The man shrugged. “I couldn’t get close enough. They posted two guards on the cliff path.”

Did he want the keepers to know about this? If they did power the Seba, why hadn’t they gone home? He needed to convince them to include him in their plans or regain possession of the device. If Ben didn’t let him in, he’d go to the priest and take the Seba by force.

Ali patted the spy on the shoulder. “You did well. Make sure to report to Hem-netjer Rashida. Let him know that I think the Earthlings are searching within the facility again. That they are desperate to go home before the ripvor arrive.”

The man clasped hands with Ali, their matching yellow pinky rings moving up and down. “Understood Keeper.” He walked toward the city, which stood three miles away.

Ali formed a scheme as he moved back to the testing. He would confront Abu first to see if he could cause the young man to slip and give him a hint about what he and Miss Louisa had been doing. Until then, he had plenty of other responsibilities. Ali smiled as a five-rocket barrage exploded down range, carving substantial gouges into the target area.

The reapers’ artillery didn’t stand a chance.

Chapter 17

Nation of Umma, Zoru, An 5660, Day 77

Ben turned in his saddle—the double column of infantry-turned-dragoons extended out of sight, winding through the range of rolling hills. A wall of dark, threatening clouds hung in the distance. After a day and a half of floating on barges down the Tefnut River, their allied forces disembarked. They had ridden hard, trying to intercept the horde. Thankfully, the rain had stayed behind them, or the dirt road they traveled on would be a muddy quagmire.

Ahead of them, they chased a different cloud. A filthy one made of dust and ash. Wind singer scouts reported their expedition would catch the ripvor in two days at worst. Ben turned his focus forward as a commotion rose within the ranks of the Remulan horse archers leading the march. A ripple of noise followed a rider galloping past the legionary auxiliary unit and racing toward Ben.

Twenty yards out, the horseman pulled hard on his reins, and his horse, nostrils flaring, stuttered to a stop. In Greek, the man said, “General McGehee, General Kinya requests your presence at the front.”

“Any other information?”

“No, sir.” The Remulan saluted with a fist to his heart and trotted past Ben.

Ben assumed the rider would deliver the same message to Prince Tambal, who rode with the chariots in the rear detachment.

Lance Duffadar Ram and Umrao pulled up to either side of Ben’s mare. Ram asked, “What do you think?”

Ben removed his hat and wiped his forehead and nape with a bandana. “Not sure. I’ll take Umrao with me and go see what’s happening.”

The lance duffadar saluted, and Ben kicked his horse, clucking his tongue. His mare picked up her gait, and Umrao matched his pace next to him. They passed the thousand Remulans and topped another small hill. In the shallow valley below, wisps of smoke rose from the charred husk of a sizable village. The trail rations he’d eaten that morning soured in Ben’s stomach.

Slapping the reins, Ben pushed his mare into a gallop. He and Umrao slowed near the edge of the ruins. Black wooden supports smoldered within piles of stone rubble where modest houses once stood. They encountered the skeletal remains of a large hound. Or, Ben thought, is that a stirithy?

He described it as a body, but that word was too generous. It was nothing but a canine skeleton. The bones lay sprawled on a walkway that had once led past a small yard to another destroyed building.

Ben’s mare whinnied, her eyes going wide. He patted her neck and whispered, “Shh,” into her agitated, twitching ears.

Crows screamed at one another. They jousted to poke and jerk at the tiny scraps of meat left on the otherwise bare bones. Ben tied his bandana over his face, attempting to block out the smoke and the smells. As they moved deeper into the town, they found human bones and more varied types of scavengers––rats, a kind of ant the size of Ben’s hand, and the ever-present murders of crows, all of which sent Ben’s skin crawling.

During his years at war, he’d never seen anything like this. His mind didn’t want to accept the truth of what he saw.

As the road transitioned from dirt to cobblestone, they passed more and more human, humanoid, and animal remains. Dozens of empty eye sockets followed them as they moved deeper into the slaughtered village. The horses clopped into the center of the square where General Kinya waited. Ben dismounted, leading his horse by the reins toward the traitorous general. Behind the general lay a massive, haphazard stack of bones as tall as Ben’s waist. Swallowing, Ben forced down the bile rising in his throat.

An unkindess of blue-black ravens held court, hopping between femurs, tibias, and skulls of all types on the bony berm. He stepped before the general, trying and failing to look into the man’s eyes instead of staring at the mass grave made of skeletons too small to be adults.

A tear ran down the hardened general’s cheek, and he waved behind him. “This is what we fight. Like locusts, the ripvor kill and eat everything in their path.”

Behind him, someone wretched, liquid spattering the ground. Bent over, Umrao heaved, tears dropping like rain. The lancer held a young girl’s bloodstained hair bow.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dispel the horror before him, but knowing these scenes would follow him into the nightmares that stalked him. He turned to the general before choking out, “What do you think happened?”

The general’s eyes drifted to the ground. “They hid the children inside the temple.” His helmeted head angled toward the massive pile of hand-cut stone on one side of the square. “The reapers pulled them out and.” The general’s jaws clenched. “Feasted.”

Lamentations don’t do this justice. This is apocalyptic, Ben thought. How do you fight such unholy creatures?

General Kinya pointed up another road that led away from the square. “We will head northwestward from here. My scouts have marked the fastest way through these hills that can support the supply wagons. By tomorrow night, we will catch and pass the horde.”

Ben pulled out his folded map and flipped it over, holding it between him and the general.

General Kinya pointed to a section marked with mounds and said, “We must turn the ripvor before they reach the Ancients’ road to Abydos. There are no places to ambush them in the Deshert.”

“This looks like our best bet.” Ben’s finger moved to the last low bumps before a straight-as-an-arrow road. “Tomorrow night, we will lay our traps. The next morning, it begins.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder at the children’s graveyard, an icy rage rising deep within.

Chapter 18

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 78

Abu flipped the page, and the columns of hieroglyphics blurred together. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if his reluctance to face Ningal was worth the frustration of reading the ancient language himself. When they awoke on Aaru, Abu was a novice in pictorial-based language. Since then, his skill had grown daily, on a slow upward trajectory toward mastery. Too slow. He’d been muddling through today, but with each passing hour, the press of the coming battle grew heavier.

Desperate to contribute to the war effort, Abu hated being fourteen at times like these. Each time he asked Dr. Ben to let him join the Lancers, his guardian refused. Frustrated, Abu doggedly continued his research about past Lamentations and the ripvor. Without a native reader, even that effort had become as helpless as he felt. Ningal read the ancient script with ease, which allowed him to consume three to four times as much information as his current pace.

When he'd first been given permission to peruse the Kerma City Royal Library, he’d thought about asking for her help, but he just couldn’t. Since their last conversation, she’d avoided him as much as possible, even though they couldn’t help but cross paths on the small campus. When that happened, she’d acknowledged him with a fake smile and a nod. The hurt in her eyes generated a fresh wave of guilt at his role in that pain.

Miss Louisa tapped on the page that Abu had been staring at without seeing. “Is there anything you need? I’m going to find some snacks.”

Abu smiled and shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

She smiled back, ruffling his hair before walking down a row of bookshelves toward the enormous library’s main entrance.

As soon as she’d disappeared, Professor Mousa rapped twice on the table.

Abu looked over several short stacks of books toward the far end where Ali sat.

“Any luck?” The academician, who seemed to grow facial hair at a prodigious pace, leaving his face perpetually stubbled, raised an eyebrow.

Wary of the professor’s timing and the man’s intentions, Abu closed the book before him and reached for the next one on top of the nearest stack. “Nothing. What about you?”

Professor Mousa shook his head. “No. Of course, I should have known there wouldn’t be too many Nipponese books on the subject that had been translated.” He picked up a new book from his pile.

“Looks like we have opposite problems. You’ve got little to no information on the use of gunpowder on Aaru, and I have hundreds of volumes to dig through. It’s like looking through the hay wearing a blindfold and not even knowing if there is a needle to find.” Abu chuckled.

“True. True.” The professor laughed, but then his voice turned serious. “I heard you and Miss Louisa returned to the facility under the falls.”

The hackles on the back of Abu’s neck rose. Miss Louisa warned Abu to be on guard as soon as the professor invited himself to their research party. He’s not even being subtle.

“Don’t remind me.” Abu tried to add disgust to his following words, “I need to stop complaining about all this reading because I’d rather read a thousand books than get soaked to the bone for hours on end. I even rubbed my thighs tender again on the walk back down.”

Professor Mousa gave him a sympathetic smile. “That sounds rough. What were you doing that whole time?”

“Miss Louisa wanted to climb back up to the air vent. She hammered metal hooks up the wall so it would be easy to get up and down. When the war is over, she plans to return and search the rest of the facility.”

“Is that right?” The professor’s mouth twisted with doubt.

Abu nodded. Hurry up, Miss Louisa.

“What else happened, Abu?”

Abu tried and failed to stop his eyes from widening. He stammered, “Nothing.”

“I’m not your enemy. Not anymore. I really want to help all of you get back home.”

Abu’s mind whirled with different strategies, and he tried to send the professor on a tangent. “You don’t want to go home?”

Professor Mousa’s leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never thought it was possible. All my life, I’ve been preparing for a one-way trip.” He frowned, and his voice took on a melancholic tone. “The way it happened, I couldn’t say goodbye to my parents.”

Abu squirmed in his seat. “I’m sorry about that.” His regret over his part in sending them to Aaru got the better of Abu, and he rushed to say, “Dr. Ben and Miss Louisa will figure it out. You’ll get to see them again.” He looked down and stammered out. “I’m sure of it.”

Professor Mousa’s head tilted as he straightened in his seat. “Abu, look at me.”

Crap, Abu thought. He raised his gaze but could not meet the professor’s intense glare.

“I can already go home. Can’t I?”

Aallah yusaeiduni, Abu thought.

His nervousness rose. Abu grabbed his forefinger in his other hand and rubbed his thumbnail back and forth, scratching faster as his nervousness grew. What do I say?

“Don’t worry, Abu. I’ll keep it a secret. Just tell me what’s going on.” His calming voice grew stern. “If you don’t, I’ll have no choice.”

Abu’s eyes locked with the Professor’s.

“I’ll have to tell the Keepers. And. They will take the Seba.” The Professor shrugged his hands palms out. “They might never let you go home. It will be out of my hands.”

Abu scrambled to find a way to get himself out of the pit he’d dug. Intrigued by what the professor said, every fiber of his being told him not to trust Mousa, but still, he listened. Maybe Abu could turn their former enemy into a real ally, not just an antagonistic spy. He forced his face to stone as he said, “You're wrong. The Seba doesn’t work.”

Professor Mousa scowled and began to say something, but Abu cut him off. “But. Let’s say hypothetically, we did get the Seba working. Why would you keep that a secret from your masters? What’s in it for you?”

The scruffy man visibly relaxed. “If the Seba can be repowered, it changes everything. The Keepers’ very reason for existing goes away.”

“Why?”

Professor Mousa grinned. “I’ve made many mistakes in this process, and one of the biggest is that I’ve been slow to understand the ramifications of introducing new technology to Aaru. The Keepers’ sole job is to make sure the device can be used to bring back warriors from Earth to fight in the Lamentations. If we can defeat the ripvor this time, they will never again be a credible threat. Aaru will be so transformed by Earth’s technology that the next ripvor invasion will be wiped out almost immediately.”

Abu’s mind raced. They had been so busy fighting for their lives or scrambling to find a way home that they hadn’t considered what came after. Dr. Ben had instantly seen the ramifications of modern guns being introduced to a society with medieval-level warfare. Still, none of them had taken the time to consider other technologies. The printing press, steam-powered ships and trains, and the telegraph- all of these would transform the people and the politics of this planet.

Professor Mousa nodded at Abu, who felt his face flush at the possibilities. What might happen when you combine the Ancients’ magic with all of Earth’s scientific knowledge? In a hundred years, could Aaru surpass Earth’s capabilities? What would happen if one of the Earth’s powers, for example, the British Empire, got hold of the Seba?

Abu’s heart raced, and a sense of panic descended upon him. They would turn all of Aaru into an imperial colony. Whoever controlled the Seba could change the fate of both planets. Abu shook his head and whispered, “Maybe the Keepers should lock the Seba up and ensure no one gets it.”

“Now you are beginning to understand.”

Abu did, but instead of putting him at ease with the professor, it made him even more uncertain, and he thought, What are his motives?

“I bet you’re about to tell me that you’re the man who will benevolently control all the coming change.”

Professor Mousa laughed. “I don’t want to rule the world if that’s what you think. If I did, I’d destroy the Seba and eliminate everyone who might be able to compete with my technological knowledge.” He shook his head. “I’m not smart enough to do this on my own. There’s too much I don’t know. I need the Seba to bring the books and the experts needed to revolutionize Aaru.”

Abu slammed his palm on the table. “Again, why are you the one to do it?”

The older man put his elbows on the table and brought his fingers together. “We can do it together.”

Like a hammer had dropped on his head, Abu sat stunned as the professor continued. “This time, the changes can happen slowly and in a controlled manner. Think of Earth’s chaotic history and how science has changed it. How painful each transition was. I want to create a new organization. The Builders will take on the responsibility so that Aaru skips the messy parts of new breakthroughs.” The Professor flashed an innocent smile. “Will you join me, Abu?”

Abu recognized the merit in the Professor’s words as all his arguments kept falling short. As intrigued as he was, Abu needed to end this conversation before Miss Louisa returned. “When the Lamentations are over, and we recharge the Seba, I’ll consider your proposal. Until then, let’s drop the subject.” He waved past the professor. “Get anything good?”

Professor Mousa twisted to see Miss Louisa bringing a picnic basket their way. He returned his gaze to Abu and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

__________________________

After a light lunch, Abu returned to reading a book written in an old Norse language. Mercifully, the work included a Greek translation on the back of each page. The tome chronicled the lamentations that took place when the Norsemen were brought to Aaru. This was the first volume on that topic, which mentioned the legend of the Vikings finding the cave where the Keepers had hidden all the Ancients’ artifacts. In this account, the historian described a few of the devices the dwarves found in the cave. He claimed there had been more than one Seba device in the cavern.

“Check this out.” Abu waited until both the professor and Miss Louisa looked in his direction. “It says that the cave. The one the dwarves found in the jungle, where all the artifacts were hidden, held several Seba devices.”

“I thought all those rumors were just that rumors.” Professor Mousa pushed his lips to one side, his face doubtful.

Miss Louisa stood and leaned over to see the book. Abu twisted it so she had a good angle. She read for several minutes before saying, “That’s amazing. I wonder where they go.”

Abu hadn’t thought about the devices going anyplace but between Earth and Aaru. He felt silly at having been so short-sighted. The ripvor had a Seba that took them from their home world to Aaru and back. Then there were the home worlds for the stirithy, hysakas, and babiakhom. The Ancients had visited those planets more than eight thousand years ago.

Just how many more worlds had the Ancients visited? Unfortunately, the description of the cave and its contents didn’t provide any more details. If they ever found more Seba devices, Abu knew he could identify the ones that went between Earth and Aaru. He mentally kicked himself because he realized he’d been assuming that all the devices used Aaru as one of the two destinations.

“These Sebas could be going anywhere,” Abu vocalized his thoughts.

“True, but wouldn’t it be fantastic to have another Seba.” After Abu’s eyes darted to the professor, she winked at him. “When we figure out how to power the device, we can keep one of them and give the other back to the Keepers.”

Ali shook his head. “As interesting as that is, it won’t help us defeat the reapers.”

“No. You're right.” Abu frowned. “I’ll keep looking.”

Miss Louisa patted his arm. “You’ll find something.”

He flipped the page in the thick tome and went back to work.

Ali had been gone from the library for over an hour, and a librarian had just warned them that the building would soon close when Abu found it. The elusive pin in the haystack didn’t register on the first reading because his dazed eyes were going through the motions. His subconscious saved him, shooting up a flare, telling him he’d missed something important.

On his second read through the passage, he focused on every word. The text described the Norsemen’s first battle with the ripvor. The Viking army from Earth had yet to gain their superior strength and were on the verge of being slaughtered as they fought their way into Kerma City.

With all hope lost, Ragnhild, Thoresten’s ancestor, used a trumpet carved from some animal’s horn to signal the retreat. Nearby reapers dropped their weapons at each hornblow and shook their heads in pain for several seconds. Seconds that the Norsemen used to break the ripvor line. Ragnhild blew the trumpet until they entered the city.

His voice rising with excitement, Abu said, “Miss Louisa, read this.” He placed the book on top of the one she’d been reading.

“Where?”

Abu jabbed a finger on the page. “Start here.”

He fidgeted with anxious energy for a full minute, waiting for her to finish. As her head rose, Abu started talking as fast as he could, “What do you think happened to the horns? Do you think Thoresten knows? He didn’t mention the horns when he told us the story of his people. What if we’re able to make more of these special trumpets? We’d kick their butts.”

“Slow down.” Miss Louisa laughed. “This is very exciting, but it’s been over a thousand years since that battle occurred. The horns may be gathering dust in some store room, and we would need one to know how to make more. Let’s go see Thoresten and see if he knows anything. If not, I’m not sure who to ask.”

Abu jumped to his feet, his chair teetering back and forth before settling to the floor with a loud thunk. “Let’s go.”

Miss Louisa stood and pointed toward the front of the library. “Run ahead and ask the librarian to put these books aside so we can return later and pick up where we left off. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Abu jogged between the rows of bookshelves.

“Slow down.” Miss Louisa yelled from behind him.

Abu slowed to a fast walk.

__________________________

Sweat flew in a wide arc from Thoresten’s kimono as the dwarf whirled, chopped, and slashed, practicing his sword forms. Louisa stepped back to avoid being sprinkled by the man’s perspiration. Her body dripped with enough of her own. Abu had pushed them hard on his quest to locate the dwarven samurai. She kept making him slow down. With evening shadows getting long, she understood his impatience, but still, she didn’t see the need to run from the palace pyramid complex to the college campus.

As if he sensed their presence, the dwarf stood straight, flicked his sword to the side, and then sheathed his weapon in what appeared to be a polished ritual.

Abu didn’t let the man finish turning toward them before he spoke in Greek, “Thoresten, we need your help. You’re the only one who might know.”

The stoic samurai rumbled a chuckle at the young man’s raw enthusiasm. “Tell me.” His mirth-filled blue eyes flicked to Louisa, who shared a knowing nod with him.

Abu’s words tumbled out in a verbal avalanche. “I’ve been researching the lamentations to see if I can find anything to help us defeat the reapers. I thought there might be some long-ago tactics that could help. But I found something even better.”

Thoresten held up a hand. “And this something has to do with my first elders?”

“How’d you know?” The youngster’s eyes widened with bewilderment.

Louisa touched Abu’s arm and answered. “Yes, and since you are the only dwarf we know, we came to you. It’s about Ragnhild and his special horn. The history book said that when blown, the horn caused the ripvor pain.”

Thoresten stroked his beard while looking thoughtful. “I’d forgotten that detail, but I remember now. There were two horns.”

Abu bounced on his toes. “Do you know where the trumpets are? What are they made of? Do you think we can make more of them?”

“Hmm.” Thoresten’s lower lip jutted forward as he continued to stroke his beard. “You won’t be able to make any more.”

Abu’s shoulders slumped.

“They’re made out of a horn from some beast back on Earth.”

“Do you know what the beasts were called?” Louisa asked.

The broad-shouldered dwarf held up a finger. “It was called a corpse whale. Narwhal in the old language.” He rumbled another laugh. “Supposedly, my ancestors used to catch these giant fish, and some of them had these long horns. They would sell them to fools who believed they were actual unicorn horns.” He laughed harder. “Too funny.”

Abu didn’t seem to see the humor in it all. His face scrunched in dismay as his voice filled with irritation. “Do you know what happened to the horns after the lamentations?”

The rumbling laughs ended in a cough. “Well. Yes.” Thoresten stiffened. “One was gifted to Hurra for helping grow the ships they rewarded to our first elders and sending hundreds of hysakas to serve the new nations. They gave the second to Grrommerrk for the same reason. They donated the metal for the three fleets and provided a group of stirithy to go with each new nation.”

“Anything else you can remember?” Louisa grabbed hold of Abu’s collar, stopping him in his tracks. He had turned, she assumed, to leave and find Rrummblinss.

“The ripvor adapted after the horns were used effectively during the next two battles. After that, many reapers covered the holes in their heads where their lizard ears are.”

Abu spun around. “Did that stop the horns from working?”

Thoresten shook his head. “Sorry. That’s all I can remember about the legend. Most of what we know of the story is passed down through the songs and stories of our dwarven biwa hoshi.” He must have seen the confusion on their faces because he added, “You might call them bards.”

Louisa bowed her head. “Thank you, Thoresten. You have been a great help.”

“You’re welcome,” the dwarf rumbled.

Abu’s face had turned a brownish red. “Yes. Thank you so much.” Then he turned pleading eyes to Louisa. “Can we go find Rrummblinss now?”

“Yes. But please don’t run. I’m tired, and it’s been a long day.” Louisa waved to Thoresten and gave him an exasperated roll of her eyes.

The boulder of a man shook his head and waved.

__________________________

“When will she be back?” Abu sighed, his patience thinning as he squirmed in the puffy chair.

Rrummblinss twirled his dagger around his four-thumbed hand as he paced in front of the fireplace. “Patiencce young zehorrg.”

Abu narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant golden-furred stirithy. “Isn’t that the fat, furry, flightless bird that tastes like bacon?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

“They arre known to leap arround with boundlessss enerrgy. Jusst like you.”

“If you say so.” Abu shook his head. He always enjoyed his adventures with Rrummblinss, but sometimes became flustered by the stirithy’s big personality. Like Casanova reborn into the body of a four-foot-tall walking, talking, swashbuckling fox, Rrummblinss used as many Aaruan idioms while speaking as he had pickup lines.

“Thank you for waiting for me.” Miss Louisa flowed into the sitting room of the house. She plopped into the empty of the two chairs near the fireplace and sank into its deep cushions. “I sent a message to the Queen asking her to request the Hurrans bring their horn to Kerma City as fast as possible. I expect to hear if she has sent the message by tomorrow afternoon.”

Rrummblinss sheathed his dagger and made a swooping bow to Miss Louisa. “How mmay I help you Mmissss Louissa? Abu ssaid it wass urrgent.”

Miss Louisa smiled at Abu and nodded.

About time, Abu thought before racing to tell the stirithy soldier the story of the narwhal horn. When he finished giving every detail he knew, Abu asked, “Do you know anything about the trumpet? It might help us defeat the ripvor.”

Rrummblin’s ears bent down, and his eyes grew wide with sadness. “I’mm Ssorrrry, Abu. I’ve never hearrd of the horrn.”

Abu’s stomach dropped. The day had been so full of highs and lows, but he wasn’t ready to give up. If anything, he’d prepared to go on an epic quest to find the horn. “If we return to Grrommerrk do you think you could find it?”

“Mmaybe. It would take uss two and a half or thrree khonssu to go therre, find it, and get back.” The stirithy showed them a sharp-toothed grin. “I rremmemmberred. I have a lovely frriend who worrkss in the arrchivess. Sshe can help uss.”

“Of course you do.” Abu rolled his eyes.

Miss Louisa leaned forward. “Did I hear you say us and we?”

Abu looked at his feet, trying to find the right words. She has to let me go. Instead of speaking, he nodded.

A pleasant smile grew on Miss Louisa’s face. “I think that is a wonderful idea. Now that the Remulans are no longer guarding the river, I believe Ben would agree.” Then she turned serious as she addressed Rrummblinss. “I am trusting you to keep him safe.”

The fox-like tail swished as he placed his hand on his stomach.

Miss Louisa held up a hand. “I know, on your honor. Bring him back in one piece, or else.”

“Yess Mma’amm.” Rrummblinss snapped a perfect salute.

“I’ll start packing.” Abu jumped to his feet, visions of unicorn horns and Zanna’s beautiful brown eyes swimming in his head.

Chapter 13

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 72

Ben stood as Queen Nabra entered the room. “Your Majesty, thank you for meeting with me.”

Her babiakhom translator slid in behind her and made her way to the corner of the room.

The queen turned and shooed her massive bodyguard out of the room. “I’ve trusted this man with the safety of the entire city. I’m safe.”

The Ancients' indoor lighting reflected off the chiseled man’s filigreed breastplate as he shot Ben a warning glance. Ben gave the man his most disarming smile as the soldier backed outside.

When the door closed behind her, Queen Nabra addressed Ben. “It must be sensitive if you wanted to meet in private.” She sat in one of the four chairs arranged around a round table. She waved him to his seat.

Ben settled and asked, “How much do you want to defeat the ripvor?”

The Queen's frown intensified, and her forehead creased. “I’ll do anything to ensure that my city survives.”

“Let the entire Remulan army inside your walls?”

“Except that.”

Ben gave her a crooked grin. “I understand your reluctance, but I’ve gone over our options and don’t see another way.”

The queen leaned closer, placing her elbows on the table. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re thinking before I tell you no.”

Ben chuckled. “If the reports are correct, we are outnumbered three to one. I can assume each soldier armed with a gun can equal seven or eight ripvor. That means our weapons can account for about 150,000 reapers.” Ben’s lips drew into a line, and he shook his head. “Even with the city’s defensive walls, it’s not enough.”

“Go on.” The queen’s penetrating stare deepened.

“If we draw the ripvor into a trap, we might be able to tilt those odds in our favor.”

The queen tilted her ear toward him. “A trap?”

“A big one. I’ve spoken to your weapon masters about how much gunpowder they can produce in the next eight khonsu. Even after we complete millions of bullets, there will be tons of black powder left over.” Ben leaned toward her. “We lure the reapers into the Remulan forts and then blow them up.”

She leaned back, the fingers of one hand flexing back and forth over the surface of the table. “How do you lure them into the trap if the Remulans are in the city?”

“They won’t be inside.” Ben flashed her his off-kilter grin. “Not at first. The legionaries will man their fortifications. Once engaged, they will slowly withdraw using tunnels that lead into the city. When the ripvor overrun the forts, and the Remulans are gone, we will blow them up. If we’re lucky, we can kill a huge part of their army before we even bring our guns into the action.”

“And after we defeat the reapers, how do you propose to kick the Remulans out of my city?” The lowest points of the queen’s frown twitched with agitation.

Don’t blow this, Ben thought as he nodded. “We set up a staging area for the legions to assemble near the main gates. As soon as each legion gets reassembled, they will be sent outside the walls to destroy what’s left of the ripvor.” Ben held up a finger. “Did I mention that the holding area will be a giant pit with a single ramp that exits at the main gate?”

“And if they don’t march out?” Queen Nabra’s sarcastic words had been expected.

“Then we blow them up too.”

The Queen's head snapped back. “What?”

“If Octavius thinks the lamentations are won, he might be tempted to have some legions climb out of the pit and attack the city.” Ben shook his head. “The floor of the staging pit will be mined as well.”

The queen’s frown twisted into a sinister smile. “And you think you can arrange all of this and do everything else that needs to be done?”

“The biggest challenge will be diverting metal singers from other duties. We can’t spare any of them, so you must ask Grrommerrk for more. I’ll let you work out how many it will take to dig the giant pit and solid tunnels to each Remulan fort.”

“I’ll take care of that, and then I’ll propose the plan to Octavius. The fool will jump at the chance. We will build the staging area last, so he won’t have time to change his mind.”

Ben could hear the queen’s vengeful thoughts as if she were yelling them. Ben shook his head. “One last thing. My men will control the explosions. I wouldn’t want there to be any accidents involving our new allies.”

Queen Nabra narrowed her eyes at Ben, and then she laughed.

Chapter 14

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 74

Abu felt guilty. Despite Dr. Ben, Umrao, and Lance Duffadar Ram leaving to chase the ripvor, his worry didn’t outweigh his relief. On multiple occasions over the past two days, he’d been embarrassed by walking in on Dr. Ben and Miss Louisa canoodling. Not just a morning or goodbye kiss, but every bit as amorous as any necking that Abu had ever done.

He shook his head. Where is their sense of shame? I’ve never done that where someone can see me.

Dr. Ben gave Miss Louisa one last hug and mercifully only a peck on the lips before he mounted his horse. Turning in the saddle, he said to Abu, “Hold down the fort.”

“You can count on me.” Abu waved.

Dr. Ben nodded and clucked his tongue. The mare stepped off. Abu returned Lance Duffadar Ram’s salute and then looked down the line of cavalry toward Umrao.

Bent over, the tall lancer kissed Esther with passion. Abu rolled his eyes. The couple separated, and Esther handed Umrao a golden Star of David. Even at a distance, Abu saw the young woman’s anguish. She clutched him in a desperate embrace. They kissed once more before she turned and marched away, tears in her eyes.

A rueful smile touched Abu’s lips. Umrao wasn’t sure, but Abu had no doubt. Esther loved the youngest lancer. Abu pondered the irony of it all. Even amid all the madness that Abu and the rest of the Earthlings had been through, even during an apocalyptic war. All around him, he found love growing.

Then Abu saw Jeevan standing beside Thoresten, reminding him that sometimes love dies. The column picked up pace, and Abu refocused on the parade.

“Take care of yourself,” Abu implored Umrao as his horse clopped by.

His friend smiled, “Don’t worry. You won’t be there to get me in trouble this time.”

The two shared a laugh.

Abu felt a hand on his arm as the last wagons pulled away.

“Have you had lunch?” Ningal asked.

“No.” His mind raced at her touch, and he tried to steel his resolve.

“Good, I know just the place.” Ningal smiled and grabbed his hand with hers.

She led him toward the second primary entrance to the campus. As they exited onto one of Kerma City’s crowded streets, she asked, “Are you worried?”

Abu stared at the stones of the sidewalk. “I am. They’ve been in danger before, but this is different. I should be going with them.”

“I understand. That’s one of the reasons I came here. I didn’t want to be so far from my father when he faced.” Her words trailed off.

Abu caught the gaze of her enchanting amber eyes. “Makes sense.”

“You know that’s not the only reason, right?” Ningal poked him in the side and giggled.

His smile stayed flat, not wanting to fuel her flirtations.

After a few blocks, she directed them to the dining room of a small inn. They made small talk over a meal of lamb and rice. The food reminded Abu of home. He pushed his plate away, his hunger satisfied, but with his homesickness growing.

Ningal grabbed his hand, her face flushed. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Abu, I have a question for you.”

Abu twisted his lips to one side, confused. “What’s wrong?”

Ningal’s golden eyes flashed to Abu’s for a heartbeat, and her voice trembled. “Nothing’s wrong.” She swallowed and then hurried to take a sip of wine.

Always confident, Ningal’s nervousness made Abu unsure of what to say, so he waited.

Her eyes followed her cup to the table, and she stared at it for a long moment. When she lifted her head, Abu saw a courageous glint, and she took his hand in hers. Small tremors transferred from her to him.

Ningal’s voice grew more confident with each word. “Abu. I want you to make love to me.”

“Uh.” Speechless, Abu sat stunned. A few days ago, he set out to pursue Ningal, hopeful to hear these very words.

Her eyes drifted to their clasped hands. “I’ve never done this, Abu.” Her hand tightened on his. “I care about you.” She found his eyes again, a hint of pleading in them. “I know we can never be more, but you are the first man I’ve met who makes me feel this way. I trust you, Abu.”

Abu’s heart broke. This beautiful young woman had laid her heart bare to him. Made herself vulnerable, trusting him with this most precious gift. A gift he could not accept.

He lifted her hand, caressing it in both of his. “I’m honored.” Ningal’s face relaxed. “But I can’t.” She sucked in a quick breath. Abu wanted to look away, but she deserved better, so he forced himself to see the hurt growing in her eyes.

“It’s her. Right?”

Abu nodded. “Ningal, you’re amazing. I enjoy every moment we spend together, but.”

Ningal pulled her hand from his, her eyes growing hard. “Do you love her?”

“I do.” Abu shook his head. “I hope you can experience that feeling with someone, but we both know it’s not me.”

She reached back for his hand. “Do you think you can ever love me like that?”

Abu chuckled. “Maybe. I don’t want to give you false hope. Besides, as you said, we’re nothing but a moment. A pleasant breeze that comes and is gone just as quick.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

“Trusting me. Are we still friends?”

“It will take me a few days to get over this, but we are much more than friends, and you know it.” She grinned. “I might be immortal, but just like you, this is my first time figuring out life. Unlike humans who only get one frantic go at living, welves instill patience in their children. If you can’t get something right away, wait. Everything changes.”

Abu tilted his head, not understanding.

Standing up, Ningal pulled him to his feet. “Abu. I might not become your first, but you can still be mine. Even if our time together takes forever and lasts only as long as a spring breeze, I will wait.”

__________________________

Louisa turned the sealed scroll around in her hands. Unsettled by Ben’s leaving and already missing his arms, she’d returned to their house to think. On the porch, she found a messenger. The Alexandrian soldier saluted her with a fist to his chest and said he had an urgent message from the Ambassador.

What message could Masako’s paternal granduncle have that required a soldier to deliver? The wax seal was imprinted with Alexandria’s altered Vergina Sun. Unlike the ancient symbol from her home, this sunburst held the Star of David at its center. Pushing her thumbs together, Louisa broke the wax in half and unfurled the scroll. Something fell, clattering to the wood floor.

Louisa bent down, and her heart stopped. Her hairpin, the one topped by a single pearl, lay on the floor. Her thoughts racing, she snatched up the pin and read the Greek letter.

Miss Louisa Sophia,

I return Princess Masako’s hairpin to you with a heart full of sadness and trepidation. The pin arrived late last night with a message from the Ambassador of Yuhi. As Princess Masako was leaving Kerma City, they were intercepted by the Remulan Emperor and taken captive. Apparently, the Remulans have spies in all the city’s embassies.

A few days ago, the ambassador saw the princess. She looked healthy but did not speak to the ambassador. The Yuhi Ambassador has been trying to secure the princess’s freedom since her capture. This is his excuse for giving us such late notice of the emperor’s transgression.

Before she left, Masako made me promise to deliver the pin back to you if something should befall her. I assure you that I am doing all I can and hope to begin negotiations soon. As awful as it sounds, the lamentations have given us a window to try diplomacy. The Yuhi government is also working on the problem.

I will keep you appraised if anything changes.

Prínkipas Archimedes ben Solan i Draco

Alexandrian Ambassador to Kerma

Louisa sat at the dining table and laid the scroll down. Visions of Masako came as a deluge, Louisa’s melancholy and fear growing at each remembrance. That poor girl had been through enough. Anger followed, and she focused on a different face, a man she had just met. Octavius, she fumed. You’ll pay.

Louisa pondered how to free the young girl. She had broken into many secure locations but had never tried to sneak into a legionary fort. Maybe Rrummblinss could dig a tunnel. But how would they find where they held Masako? Could a wind singer fly over the emperor’s fort and map it out?

Despite her experience and even considering Auran magic, Louisa couldn’t devise a plan that worked. After going in circles for a time, she decided she needed help but didn’t want to tell Abu until she had a reasonable plan. The young man didn’t need the worry. She’d start with Khepri and Rrummblinss. If necessary, she’d consult Thoresten and the twins.

When that little girl left, she took a piece of Louisa’s heart. She’d made a promise to Masako that she meant to keep. The princess deserved to live the life she chose.

I will free you, Louisa vowed.

Chapter 15

City of Nippur, Zoru, An 5660, Day 75

“Governess, you asked for me?” Commander Shanesha stood at attention, staring down into the golden eyes of Innana, the Governess of Nippur, who lounged in an overstuffed leather chair behind a desk piled high with scrolls.

Innana flicked some loose strands of her fire-blaze-red hair over her shoulder. “Yes. I have a sensitive mission for you. You cannot divulge this information to anyone until the time is right.”

Shanesha tilted his head. “Not even your daughters?”

“Especially the twins.”

Warning bells chimed. What was the Governess up to? “As you wish. How may I be of assistance?”

A perfunctory smile breezed across Innana’s face and disappeared just as fast. “Kutha’s Council of Governors has received an interesting proposal from the Remulans.”

A chill ran down Shanesha’s spine. Like being asked to wrestle with a cobra, Shanesha waited for the kabuah kick to come.

“Despite the lamentations, the emperor is determined to conquer all of Khemet, but he has also admitted that Kutha is too well protected to defeat. Thus, he has instead suggested an alliance.”

Shanesha’s eyes narrowed. “What would we gain from helping those zealots?”

“He offered to help us end the elves.” The sinister smile that grew on her face told Shanesha where Nippur’s governess stood on the proposal.

As much as he disliked elves, Shanesha didn’t have the same loathing and hatred as the survivors of the Origin Wars or the generations of welves that came during the first few thousand An after the so-called truce. Innana and most of the other rulers of Kutha’s city-states came from those early generations, and he could see how this offer might appeal to them. Yet, younger welves might think the coming losses too great a price to pay to wipe out the elves.

The politics of immortals consisted of rules almost as immutable as the length of their lives. Change came at a glacier’s pace. Opinions shifted by the millennia. A welf’s outlook on life usually reflected that of others born within the same one thousand An. Nippur’s recent three-way struggle for primacy came down to two older political factions and another of younger welves born after the Phantom Lamentations. Allying with Remus was a double-edged sword, and Shenesha wasn’t sure which side of the decision he fell.

He’d follow orders for now, but he still had questions and asked, “Why are you keeping this from the twins?”

“They have become too close to the Earthlings, and the Earthlings may become an obstacle that needs to be removed.” Innana picked up a scroll from the desk. “Memorize the details and then burn it. It says you will exploit the twins’ relationship with the Earthlings to access their manufacturing facilities. Map it out, and document the comings and goings. Send regular reports to the embassy. They will send the information on to the Remulans.”

He grabbed the scroll. “I assume the emperor will try to steal the Earthling’s secrets once the reapers are defeated, and we are to avoid direct action against the Earthers. If an attempt on the facility fails, we cannot be held responsible.”

Innana shook her head. “Yes and no. If the Remulan attempt succeeds, I want you to intercept everything they steal. Then, if it looks like the legionaries will take Kerma City, I want you to capture any remaining Earthlings and bring them back.”

Shanesha’s eyebrows shot up. “We are to double-cross the Remulans?”

“The council hasn’t decided, but is it not better to negotiate from a place of strength?”

He nodded, amazed at the deviousness of the governess and her fellow rulers. He still had one concern and asked, “And if the twins side with the Earthlings?”

“Hurt them if you must. But do not kill them.” A joyous sparkle lit the governess’s eyes, and she shrugged. “If the dwarf dies. He dies.” She stared at him with a burning intensity. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Governess. Completely.”

Chapter 10

Outside Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 70

Masako stopped drawing, her undivided attention going to where Emperor Octavius met with the visitor at the center of the tent. A man with a top knot, wearing a gray silk kimono, bowed to the emperor. On her knees, she inched toward the men, stopping when her minder raised an eyebrow. She settled back and tilted her head, trying to hear better. Thankfully, Benu, the emperor’s wind singer, did not hide the conversation from her.

His voice scratchy, the Yuhi Ambassador to Kerma said, “Your Majesty. I’m sorry for the delay, but it took time to locate the only shinobi clan working on the continent of Kemet.”

“That’s odd. Why would such a valuable resource not work directly for the Shogun?”

The ambassador shrugged. “The shinobi are a world unto themselves. Often, the clans war with one another. A long time ago, one of them, facing destruction, fled to Kemet.” He held his arms wide, palms out. “As you know, the Shogun has never interfered in Kemet’s politics. But.” He stopped and let the word hang.

The emperor narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying that has changed?”

“I am still waiting for the Shogun’s response to the fact that you are holding his granddaughter hostage.” The ambassador gave a slight bow of his head. “I implore you to release her to me immediately. This misunderstanding can still be rectified.”

The emperor leaned forward and waved toward Masako. “The princess is free to leave once you deliver what I want.”

The ambassador’s head turned toward her with a grim smile. She mouthed, ‘Pin?’ in Nipponese. The older man blinked his acknowledgment before turning back to the emperor.

Please, be true, she thought, hoping that Miss Louisa had received her message.

“And what do you want?”

A condescending smile flashed over Emperor Octavius’s face. “Soon, the Earthlings will deliver the weapons needed to defeat the reapers. When that happens, I want your assassins to sneak into the Earthling’s manufacturing facility.” His smile disappeared. “They are to steal the secret to making these things called bullets. In addition, they should bring me anyone involved in the production process.”

The ambassador sighed. “Is that all?”

The emperor turned a fiery gaze on Masako. “Kill the rest of the Earthlings.”

Death shot from Masako’s stare, and Emperor Octavius sneered in response.

“You are asking for the impossible.”

Sneer still in place, the emperor’s eyes flicked back to the ambassador. “You must not value the princess as much as I thought.” He shrugged. “I wonder how the Shogun will take your indifference.”

The ambassador’s jaws clenched. “I will do as you wish. Send word when the weapons are delivered. I will take my leave now.”

With a less deep bow, the ambassador spun and stomped out of the tent.

Masako picked up her charcoal stick when a babiakhom stepped before the emperor. She picked up her clipboard and piece of parchment.

“Hail Octavius.” The babiakhom bowed his head for a second. “You requested me.”

The emperor stepped off his temporary high stool throne and stretched his arms wide. “Djoser, you will go with General Kinya’s expedition. The Earthling’s leader, Dr. McGehee, will lead the Kerman contingent. Learn the man’s habits. Be ready to kidnap or kill him on my word.”

Masako clenched her fists. How much more of this man’s evil would she be forced to witness? Once again, she reached out to the unseen force she doubted existed. Still, if, by chance, there really existed an eternal, righteous being who sat in judgment of everyone, then it would not hurt to pray for the emperor’s death once more.

Djoser asked, “And when this mission is complete? Will my contract be fulfilled? I did not sign up to fight reapers.”

The emperor chuckled. “You were hired, along with Iskur, to bring me an Earthling or to deal with them permanently.” He spread his arms and looked around the tent. “Where is my Earthling?” He thrust his finger at the babiakhom. “You’ll hold up your end of the bargain or pray you die trying.”

The babiakhom stepped backward, his large lips pulling into his mouth and coming out glistening. “Understood. I will do as you command.”

The emperor brushed him away. After Djoser left, the emperor began walking her way. Masako scrambled to grab her sketch, attempting to flip it over.

“Hold,” the emperor commanded.

Masako froze. Her eyes darted to her drawing of the emperor. At eight, she wasn’t a good artist but wasn’t bad either. The portrait showed a disfigured man with three horns sitting on a stool. The demon-like-man’s forked tongue flicked from his mouth. She was most proud of that tongue.

Emperor Octavius’s gaze lit upon her sketch, and he clucked his tongue. He ensured that Masako’s eyes were on him, and then he slapped her minder across the face.

The middle-aged woman fell to her side. With her nose bleeding, she began to cry while groveling at the emperor’s feet. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Sobbing, she tried to bury her face further in the carpet. “I deserve to die. Allow me to be an instrument of your light.”

“Princess, this woman’s life is now in your hands. Mock me again, and you will watch Shemush make her beg for release.”

Masako shuddered. Memories of the pain inflicted on her by the giant wolf-man caused a whimper to escape her lips. Masako had no love for this woman, but no one deserved to feel that kind of pain. No one except for the Emperor of Remus.

Her eyes drifted to the ground, and she nodded. “I’ll be good.”

Chapter 11

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 71

Louisa grabbed Khepri’s thick wrist and tugged at her. The massive wolfwoman didn’t budge. “Let’s go Khepri. I need to work out some frustration.”

Khepri’s heavy hand patted Louisa on the head. “Calm down. We’ll get there with plenty of time. I just need to check if Hemmetrre needs anything.”

It wasn’t a coincidence. At first, Louisa thought it happenstance that Khepri sometimes treated her the way a human might treat his pet dog. Now positive her big friend did it to amuse herself, Louisa knocked the black-padded hand off her head and frowned at the hysakas.

Khepri chuckled and gave her one of those unnerving canine winks. Then she turned and yelled in Greek down the hall, “Pack sister, is there anything you need me to pick up while I’m out?”

Hemmetrre’s brown-furred head, with her black mask and unique eyes, one blue and one brown, poked around a corner. She said in Greek, “I’ve got anotherr one of thosse crravingss.” She lifted her foxlike snout and sniffed three times. “Missss Louissa, you need to mmate that mman of yourrss. Even I can smmell the frrusstrration.”

Khepri growled. “Leave her alone Hemm, and stop being so crude. Now, what craving are you having this time? I’m not sure I can find any pickled azorric fish.” Khepri leaned down and whispered to Louisa, her lips curling in disgust. “Stinks like fresh bata dung.”

“But it tasstess like sspiccy peachess, Big Siss.” The handless stirithy waved her stump in a shooing motion. “Don’t forget like lasst timme.”

Khepri shook her head. “She never lets me forget.” Then to Hemmetrre she said, “I won’t. Be back in a few hours.”

Louisa huffed and led the way outside. “We’re going to be late.”

Her giant friend’s feet slapped the cobblestones, and in seconds, she caught up with Louisa, who began to jog to keep up with the hysakas’s long strides.

Moving her arms faster, Louisa picked up the pace. She needed to warm up anyway, and a good run would help. She wasn’t sure she could calm herself enough to do the yoga forms. That blasted man. No man made her wait.

In ten minutes, they’d crossed the former college campus and entered the area set aside for Kalari training. Even with all that had been going on, Louisa insisted on reinstating her martial education a few days after the battle. With Ben and Lance Duffadar Ram soon to leave, the Kalari master assured her that one of the other lancers would continue to lead her lessons.

The Guru Ram motioned her to one of the six sparring circles where he stood. Others were already grappling or trading blows. Esther and Umrao were going at it hard while Abu walked through some moves with the young welven girl Ningal. And next to the guru stood the source of her agitation. The Good Doctor, Louisa spat the thought.

Ben hadn’t been to one of the practices for several weeks. Khepri moved to the side of those sparring and folded her arms. She never participated and only came to help heal any injuries.

Ben waved as she jogged into the ring, and he said, “Good morning.”

Louisa narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Is it? I hope you’re ready.”

“I won’t ask you to take it easy on me.” Chuckling, Ben stepped over the sandbags that marked the circle.

Lance Duffadar Ram said, “I’ll leave you to it.” He started shouting instructions toward one of the other pairs of pupils.

Louisa thought, He won’t be able to ignore me today, as she went into her fighting stance, placing her left foot a little in front of her right. “I’ve been waiting for this,” she hissed.

“Waiting for what?” Ben jumped back as she launched her first series of strikes.

Louisa’s foot came back from just missing his midsection. Always shorter than all her opponents except Esther, she knew she needed to get in close and rushed toward him. She led with a front kick, which he blocked. Stepping forward, she bent low and aimed a right hook at his hip. Ben brought his elbow down just in time to thwart that strike.

He countered with a half-hearted left jab, and Louisa bounced back, bobbing her head under the second weak jab. He is playing with me, she seethed inside.

She darted in like before, but instead of carrying out her blows, she swept his leg with hers, sending him stumbling. Rolling over her shoulder, she came up next to his supporting leg, which she grabbed. With a yank, he sprawled in the dirt. As he struggled to rise, she hit his scar with a right cross, and a jolt of satisfaction flowed through her at the contact.

Ben’s head recoiled from the blow, and he grunted, his eyes glazing.

Still on her knees, she tried to wrap her legs around Ben’s arm. With his eyes narrowing, he twisted faster than she could follow and bounced back to his feet. He shook his head, and those blue eyes that had been making her beyond mad sparked back to life.

Louisa hopped to her feet and sneered at him. Did that hurt? Not enough.

With a rush, she closed the distance again. An angry snarl rose in her throat as she slung the toe of her booted foot toward his thigh. Ben stepped forward, but instead of wrapping his arm around her leg from the top, he came under her knee and lifted her leg up, pulling it to his side.

About to be dumped on her head, Louisa grabbed his shirt and jumped up and forward, wrapping her other leg around his waist. The surprise in his eyes urged her anger forward. Intent on ending the fight, she bobbed her head back and let it spring forward, aiming for his nose.

An intense pain jerked her head back. She tried again, but Ben’s fingers, embedded deep in her hair, held her in place. A cocky crooked grin spread across his face. She slapped that grin away.

His cheek burning red, he unlocked her leg and, with his now free hand, grabbed her wrist, twisting it to a stop. She pulled back to hit him as hard as she could with her unencumbered fist.

Ben fell forward, his whole-body slamming Louisa onto the sand. The breath whooshed out of her. Eyes bulging, she tried to breathe, tried to move as he unlocked her hair. While she lay stunned under his weight, he wrapped up her other wrist in his hand.

Sweet air entered her lungs, and she sucked in a huge breath. She headbutted Ben’s chin, and his grip on her wrists loosened. Like a snake flowing through rocks, she squirmed from under him, freeing one of her arms. She scrambled to get away, but he pulled her down, jerking her arm behind her back. With both on their knees, she replied using a three-finger jab straight to his ribs. Ben grunted and pulled her jab arm around his waist, then clamped it tight under his armpit.

Louisa bobbed her head back to headbutt him again, but with his hand now free, he snagged her hair with his fingers. “Argh,” she yelped.

She thrashed back and forth, trying to weaken his hold. All the while, she tried to knee his manhood, but Ben didn’t seem to notice.

That a man restrained her like this made her feel helpless and brought back one of her worst memories. He grinned, but his eyes were still an angry blue.

This will not stand, she thought as she pinched his back and side hard. Ben grimaced, and she said, “Ready to give up?”

Grin returning, he yanked on her hair, holding her head all the way back. That horrible moment from long ago crashed into her. The memories of the pain and terror that crazy bastard had caused her a decade before sent her into a rage.

Ben leaned in, and his breath brushed her ear. “Surrender.”

No! Louisa twisted her head, accepting the pain of her hair being pulled from its roots. She bit his lip. Hard. Her rage relented, and her teeth unlatched only when she’d elicited a painful moan from Ben. She blinked, staring into blue eyes full of hurt, not the sadistic brown of her long-ago tormentor.

His head pulled back, lips bloody. The sight of the injury washed away all of Louisa’s fight. What have I done?

As his watering stare solidified to ice, the corner of his bleeding mouth turned up on one side while the other stayed flat.

“On your feet,” Ram shouted. “Enough.”

The angry blue in Ben’s stare softened to something else. Something that she desired to emote from him even if she didn’t understand what it meant.

Superfast, Ben let go and jumped. He left her on her knees as he backed away, two fingers going to his mouth. He inspected the blood for a second, then peered down at her, searching her eyes. Louisa rubbed her wrists, then the back of her head. Ben didn’t fight fair, but neither did she. Where has this passion been?

“I think that’s enough for today. I have work to do.” He held his hand out, helping her to her feet, then went to Khepri.

After the life singer mended his lip and other unseen bruises, Ben headed toward his office in the main academic building. She stepped beside Khepri, watching him go, and thought, What must I do to keep your attention?

A big hand-paw went to Louisa’s shoulder. Khepri’s warm healing magic flowed to every ache and pain, wiping them away.

“I hope the two of you mate soon. That was frightening to watch.” Khepri, her mouth jaws opening and closing with each syllable, chuckled deep in her throat.

Louisa narrowed her eyes as Ben disappeared. “Mate? I’d be happy with a kiss. At this point, I’d settle for holding hands.”

Khepri’s snout swung back and forth. “Men.”

Chapter 12

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 71

Ssherrss grumbled, “We will have five rrollss of wirre rready to go with you.”

Ben pointed at Jeevan’s notepad, “Please ensure the Kermans give us enough wagons to carry all the supplies. We need two teams of horses for each one.”

The duffadar’s head bobbed up and down. “Will do.” He finished scribbling and looked up. “Anything else?”

At the far end of the table, Abu stared at a wall, his gaze empty as he licked his lips. Disinterested? Distracted? Ben couldn’t tell and chided himself for not checking on his son enough.

Before he could feel too inadequate as a parent, lemon, and lavender tickled his nose. Since the morning’s sparring match had devolved into a real fight, Ben tried to understand what had happened. He stole a look at Louisa. Sitting as close as their chairs allowed, she pursed her lips and glanced away.

Like a bolt of lightning turning sand to glass, his understanding of the problem crystallized. She had been trying to get his attention. Her sharp tongue and near-constant anger towards him these past days mimed the little boy who pulled the ponytail of a girl he liked.

Bad analogy, Ben thought. I was the one pulling hair this morning.

The truth of this realization spurred his heart to race. He had to find the proper way to respond to her frustration. If only he knew what to say. He’d have to hit this problem head-on and hope the words came when needed.

Ben blew out a nervous breath and forced himself back to reality. “Progress on our special project?” Ben asked, looking at Lance Duffadar Ram.

The skinny man grinned. “We had our first successful stress test yesterday. The training crews had a few suggestions to better stabilize the gun’s carriage. We should be able to go into full production in five days.”

Ben’s mind raced with the implications. This one advancement might be the difference between victory and defeat. Slow down, cowboy. Ben drummed his fingers on the table, continuing to think. There are hundreds of variables that might determine the outcome, and these new guns won’t matter if we don’t have enough of them.

“Ssherrss, how many can your teams build? Ram, how many crews can be trained in the timeframe we have?”

From across the table, the stirithy yawned, showing his sharp foxlike teeth. “Ssorrrry, not ssleeping mmuch. Ass ssoon ass the otherrss arrrrive from Grrommerrk, I will expand the teamm.” Two of his thumbs scratched behind a pointy, brownish-red ear tipped by black whiskers. “Fifty.”

Jeevan scribbled on his pad as Louisa put her elbow on the table, touching Ben’s arm in the process.

Lance Duffadar Ram said, “I’ll be hard-pressed to field fifty crews. It’s not just the men. It’s horses, too.” Ram rubbed the thin triangular tuft of beard on the bottom of his chin. “If I put Umrao in charge, we can do it.”

Louisa raised an eyebrow. “He’s your youngest. Why him?”

A sly grin formed on Ram’s face. “Dimaerites Esther has had an incredible effect on Sowar Singh. He is my most focused and driven soldier now.”

Louisa chuckled. “Men and their egos.”

It was Ben’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

She shook her head and patted his forearm, her voice patronizing. “Men can’t stand coming in second to women. Especially their woman.”

Ben harumphed and whispered under his breath. “Says the biggest ego in the room.”

Louisa’s head twisted a smidge, and she eyeballed him from the corner of her eye. “Did you say something?”

Ben painted virtue on his face and laced his reply with innocence, “Nope.” He smiled his best, crooked grin as he stared into those gorgeous brown eyes so full of ferocity.

Pursing her lips again, she narrowed her eyes at him for a beat before her tight mouth eased into an amused smile.

God, I love that smile. With great effort, Ben pried his gaze from her to address the table, “Can Chib do as good of a job as Umrao? Umrao has been training the dragoons and should come with Lance Duffadar Ram and I.”

Ram frowned and said, “Yes. Chib can have the crews ready.”

Ben nodded. “Good, let’s move on. Bullet production is going well. Compartmentalization is working, and we should double the amount of primary chemicals needed by the end of the week.”

“How much will you make?” Louisa asked.

“We’ll only keep enough inventory to make a million bullets after this initial run. We’ll keep making bullets, but just enough to replace what is being used. If the facility is seized and they know the final recipe, they’d have an advantage, but it wouldn’t be unstoppable.” Ben lowered his voice. “We’ve also taken measures which would destroy the processing facilities and storage tanks in that scenario.”

Ssherrss pushed back from the table and hopped off his too-tall-for-him chair. “It’ss late. I musst check on the fammily and get a few hourrss of ssleep.”

Looking spryer than he should, Jeevan smiled and stood. “I have a few items to take care of myself.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “Make sure you get some shut-eye. Understand.”

Jeevan snapped a salute. “Yes, sir, Captain Ben. I’ll be in bed shortly.” He winked at Ben before following Ssherrss and Lance Duffadar Ram out of the meeting room.

Ben blew out a long, frustrated breath. Jeevan’s carousing brought out a false bravado and cockiness in the duffadar that Ben needed for the fight to come. As much as he didn’t like it, he preferred this to the heartbroken, hungover version of the man,

Louisa’s fingers tapped louder, and Abu woke from his daydream, a faint smile still lingering.

A thought occurred to Ben, and he wrote some new to-do items in the small notebook he kept in his pocket. His almost unreadable scratched handwriting made him wish he’d worked harder on his penmanship during elementary school. When he wrote in Greek, he had to write every letter with slow, deliberate strokes to make it legible.

The tempo of Louisa’s tapping picked up.

“I need to go back to the library,” said Abu as he stood.

“Alright, don’t be too late. Miss Rabia wasn’t happy last night because we didn’t eat while the food was hot.” Louisa waved.

“See you soon.” Ben smiled and bent back to his to-do list.

Within seconds of Abu walking out of the room, Louisa put her hand on his wrist to stop his note-taking. “That can wait.”

Mid-word, Ben stopped his pencil. His gaze still locked on the notebook, he breathed in her scent. I agree, he thought. There is something I need to address.

He placed the pencil on the table above the small book and covered her hand with his as he met her fierce brown eyes. Olive cheeks reddening, Louisa’s face grew stern, and her grip on his wrist tightened.

Ben reached for her chin with his finger and thumb. She jerked her head away.

When she glanced back, her eyes smoldered, a glow that did not match the anguish in her voice. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

“Sometimes, I’m an idiot.”

“Sometimes? Are you blind as well? I’m not sure I could be more obvious.” She blushed and looked away.

Ben again took hold of her chin, lifting it until her eyes locked onto his. With all the conviction he held in his heart, he said, “Louisa Sophia. I love you.” Her eyes sparkled at his words, and her lips parted as he said, “May I kiss you?”

Her lips quirked at the corners, and she touched his scarred cheek. “Benjamin Moore McGehee. Don’t you ever make me wait this long again.”

Ben leaned in without caring if she meant the words, the kiss, or both. His hand moved to her face, palm covering her cheek and ear, his fingers burying themselves into her midnight hair. Louisa’s mouth rushed to meet his, their lips coming together in an inebriating swirl of love, tasting of dates and honey. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.

Frustrated that the chairs kept them apart, he stood, stooping to keep his lips on hers. His free hand went to the small of her back, helping her to stand. He twisted his head to the other side, her tongue seeking out his as he crushed her against his body.

__________________________

Abu shook his head. He’d been so lost in his excitement–– or was it nervousness ––to see Ningal that he’d forgotten one of his books on the table. After learning about Abu’s lamentations research, Thoresten gave him a copy of another Aaruan treatise on the subject. The need for translation help was the excuse he needed to see her. It would be too obvious if he showed up without it.

Turning around, Abu headed back to the meeting room. All the while, his thoughts churned at taking that next step with the gorgeous welf. As soon as he started feeling confident in his decision, doubts or thoughts of Zanna reared their ugly and beautiful heads.

He cracked open the door and stopped, rooted to the floor, his eyes bulged. Dr. Ben held Miss Louisa in a passionate embrace. They were kissing. Not just kissing. They were full-on necking. Abu darted behind the door jamb, putting his back to the wall. Embarrassed, his face flushed warm, but his heart soared.

Miss Louisa and Dr. Ben deserved to be happy. His book would need to wait. At least he now had an excuse to tell Ningal. And it would make her smile. Her smile made his stomach flutter. The sooner he left, the sooner he could see that smile.

Abu started to leave but spared another glance through the opening and paused again. Still in each other’s arms, the couple had broken apart. Abu could see Miss Louisa’s face tilted up, and he heard her breathy words.

“You’ve made me wait long enough. I wasn’t sure before. Scared maybe. But now I am.” She swallowed. “I want you to be my first.”

Dr. Ben began to reply but went speechless.

Miss Louisa rushed forward at his awkwardness. “I can’t get pregnant. Khepri’s magic paused my cycle.”

Dr. Ben and Abu’s heads bounced backward in unison. Abu felt double the heat rise to his cheeks. He’d never thought he would hear such intimate things discussed by the two most important adults in his life. He needed to give them their privacy and turned away when he heard Dr. Ben’s reply, and Abu froze.

“You deserve more.”

Abu couldn’t help himself and spun around.

They’d stepped farther apart. Dr. Ben held both of Miss Louisa’s hands in his. “Let’s wait.”

Miss Louisa’s back stiffened, the pain of rejection on her face. She broke free from his hands and pointed toward the door. “Go.” Her voice rose. “Get out. You have more important things to do.” She turned her back on him.

Abu held his breath.

Dr. Ben reached for her shoulder, and she spun around, tears on her cheeks.

In a low whisper, she said, “Go.”

Dr. Ben stepped forward and grabbed her hands again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her face and shoulders slumped, but he continued, his voice soft and firm. “Look at me. Please.”

Sad eyes looked at Dr. Ben as he said, “I want more.”

Miss Louisa’s brow furrowed. “I’m not enough?”

“You are more than I deserve. My love for you. My desire.” Dr. Ben grinned. “Right now, I feel like I’m going to combust. That’s what you do to me.”

She whispered, “Then.”

Dr. Ben shook his head, stopping her words. “My dream is to be more than your first. I want to be your only, and I want you to be my last.”

A soft gasp escaped from Miss Louisa as Dr. Ben continued. “You are too important to me to give you anything less.” He leaned down, brushed his lips to hers, and pulled back. “When we’re safe, I want to make your dreams and mine come true.”

“But what if?” Miss Louisa’s voice cracked.

With a rueful smile, Dr. Ben said, “Then, it wasn’t meant to be, and that honor should go to the man God deems worthy of your love.” He flashed a cockeyed grin. “Enough of that.”

He kissed her again and paused, staring into her eyes.

Nodding, Miss Louisa, her voice husky, said, “And until the war is over?”

Dr. Ben’s answer was a kiss as he pulled her closer.

Head reeling, Abu eased the door closed and rushed outside.

What did he want? Dying a virgin seemed so unimportant right now. It hadn’t occurred to him until he heard Dr. Ben's words. If he took that next step with Ningal, she would become his first. Would he be her first? He thought so. If there could only be one first, was she the one he wanted to hold that place of honor for the rest of his life?

No, Abu thought, his heart belonged to someone else. Zanna.

I want to be her first and for her to be mine.

Abu shook his head. But I can never be her only.

Loving an immortal had a real drawback in that way. It didn’t make sense for her to be Abu’s only or his last. Besides, he’d probably never see Zanna again. He turned onto the path to the library, his emotions still in turmoil, unsure how he would deal with Ningal.

Regardless of all his uncertainty, he stood firm on this one decision; until he loved another girl as much or more than Zanna, Abu reserved that corner of his heart for her.

Chapter 7

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 69

Ben sat back and listened to a wind singer’s translation while Queen Nabra and Emperor Octavius took care of the pleasantries. Inside the canvassed pavilion raised for the meeting, the two monarchs sat across from each other in the large circle completed by the other participants. Prince Tambal stood a little behind the queen while an older man and General Kinya flanked the emperor.

In a rare display, the queen smiled, her voice pleasant and sincere. “Emperor, thank you for allowing my wind singers to scout for the ripvor.”

In the two days since the battle ended, Kerman wind singers had been allowed to seek out the reaper’s army. With a relay system that reminded Ben of the Pony Express, the Kerman flyers reached the horde late yesterday, and their confirming message crossed the hundreds of miles back to Kerma City in a few hours.

“Of course, your Majesty.” The emperor returned her smile. “I know it’s difficult to put our animosity aside, so I appreciate you honoring this parlay. Our scouts estimate the horde to be well over half a million reapers. Given the threat to Aaru, we have no other choice. To show my sincerity to work as allies, I’ve ordered the two legions stationed above the falls to withdraw.”

“I appreciate your sign of good faith, and of course, I agree.” The Queen nodded. “I would also like to thank the representatives from other Aaruan nations.” She waved to the group assembled around the circle.

Ben sat between Louisa and Jeevan, who was still mad at the woman. They sat on the side of the half-circle with Ki, Lil, and Thoresten, who acted as welven ambassadors, along with Masako’s uncle, who represented Alexandria. The opposite side of the virtual round table consisted of a Babiakhom ambassador from Pastruus, the elven ambassador from Ur, Rrummblinss representing Grrommerrk, and Hem-netjer Rashida, the head of the Keepers of the Seba in Kerma, acting as the ambassador for Hurra.

The emperor’s eyes flicked to Jeevan, then lingered on Louisa for a long moment before locking stares with Ben. “Let us not forget our allies from Earth.” Like the biggest toad in the puddle, the Remulan leader puffed up, his eyes never wavering from Ben. “I’m anxious to work with the people responsible for the only two military setbacks I’ve ever experienced.”

What kind of deviltry are you up to? Ben thought, his eyes narrowing.

The emperor made a circuit with his gaze before stopping back at Ben. “Let us not waste time. Everyone here knows that beating the ripvor will be easier if our soldiers are armed with the new weapons from Earth.”

So, this is your play. Ben thought before saying, “I’m not sure we have enough time to make that happen.”

Prince Tambal stepped into the ring. “Dr. McGehee. Our wind singers indicated the horde could be here in two weeks if they turned toward Kerma City. How much time do you need?”

Ben had all eyes on him as he answered, “That’s a difficult question. Besides making more guns, we need millions of bullets and time to train the soldiers who would receive the weapons.”

The older man standing next to the emperor raised a hand. “I suggest we discuss each of those items one at a time.” He spread his arms wide. “For instance, what do you need to make more guns?”

Ben rubbed his chin a second before he said, “We would need a lot of metal singers to make the metal parts for the rifles, revolvers, and bullets.”

The wind singer translated a stirithy’s purr-like speech pattern to perfect English as Rrummblinss said, “I can have a messssage to Grrommerrk in two dayss. We can have half the ccity worrking on the partss you need.”

Ben nodded. “That’s good, but we will need thousands of metal singers to come to Kerma to assemble the weapons and the bullets.”

Rrummblinss held up three equidistant thumbs with his fourth folded into his palm. “Is thrree thoussand enough?”

Ben chuckled at the sight, then began working out the calculations. With the stirithy citizens working on the metal parts and the massive number of needed shell casings, that part of the equation wouldn’t be the limiting factor. The real problem, the creation of enough mercury fulminate, restricted the timetable. He worked out how many primers his team could create in three weeks and worked backward to the other estimates with that in mind.

“Rrummblinss, if you can bring four thousand by the end of the week, we might be able to do it.” The stirithy nodded, and Ben held up a hand when everyone began to speak with their neighbors. “What I mean by that is we can create twenty thousand new rifles and enough bullet casings for the twenty-two thousand guns we will have. That will take three weeks, not two. We’ll need a plan to slow down the ripvor, but we’ll work that out later.”

Ben looked toward Queen Nabra. “There are a few other considerations. Black powder, for instance. Do you have enough raw materials to make three hundred tons of black powder? It must be from scratch.”

The queen leaned in and whispered with Prince Tambal, but General Kinya spoke, “With the siege lifted, the amount of existing raw materials inside the city plus what the closest quarries can provide, it should be enough.”

The queen glared at the traitorous man while he spoke, but when he finished, she gave Ben a curt nod.

“Good. Then this last issue isn’t a deal breaker, but it would be nice.” Ben looked toward the hysakas priest. “We need wood stocks for the rifles. Otherwise, we must create ones made from the lightest possible material the metal singers can mold.” Ben pointed to Jeevan. “Can you show him your carbine?”

Jeevan hopped off his seat. “Sure thing, Captain Ben.” He retrieved his rifle and took it across the circle to Hem-netjer Rashida.

The giant wolf held the gun like a man might have a toy. He turned the carbine in different directions, bringing the wood close to his face. “It will take two weeks to grow twenty thousand of these.” He turned to the babiakhom. “Ambassador Heru, would your wind singers be able to shuttle them back to Kerma?”

The greenish-colored, hairless baboon with a pink and yellow-colored snout pursed his lips. “Yes. We have plenty of non-combatants who can help. It would take a couple of days.”

The emperor stood. “Wonderful. We can arm two of my legions.”

Queen Nabra shook her head, and her constant frown turned severe. Just because I need to work with you does not mean I have forgotten your nation’s crimes or the treachery of your new dog.”

General Kinya stepped forward, and the emperor put a hand on the man’s breastplate, stopping him.

The queen jabbed a finger at Emperor Octavius. “You will receive five thousand guns. Five thousand will go to my troops.” She pointed to Masako’s grand uncle, the Alexandrian ambassador. “The Alexandrians 4^th Stratia is marching over the mountains right now and will receive five thousand guns upon arrival. The Hurrans will receive two thousand, the welves two thousand, and elves a thousand.”

The emperor chuckled and grinned. “Queen Nabra, I’m providing two hundred thousand legionaries to Kermas fifty thousand soldiers. Don’t you think you are being short-sighted?”

The queen snorted and glared first at General Kinya and then the emperor. “I see quite clearly, and when the Lamentations are over, I will personally feed your souls to Ammit.”

__________________________

Ben drummed his fingers against his desk. Despite the contentious ending to the parlay, he left feeling hopeful and determined to carry out his marching orders. This meeting would be one of many he needed to attend before leaving to scout the reapers. His curiosity about the enemy they faced required him to see the threat firsthand.

Jeevan closed the door to Ben’s office and sat beside Lance Duffadar Ram and Ssherrss, facing Ben. “Jeevan, the training will be more work than we can shake a stick at. What are your thoughts?”

With his mouth in a tight line, a concerned duffadar stroked his beard. “The non-commissioned officers of the 1^st Rifles will need to step up and take over training for all the new troops. Ram and I will meet with the Remulan legion commander and General Kaa this afternoon to create a training schedule.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Where will the new troops drill? I don’t want a Remulan anywhere near this campus?”

The wiry Lance Duffadar Ram leaned forward in his chair. “Outside the city. The undamaged parts of the wall can be the backstop for multiple ranges. That way, we can separate the different allied regiments. Keep certain groups from being too close to other groups.”

Ben put his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together. “Great idea. Ram, put your best man on overseeing the training after the initial meetings.”

Lance Duffadar Ram tugged at his ear lobe. “What will I be doing?”

Ben smiled. “You and I are going to scout the enemy. We’ll have two objectives. Force them to turn toward the city so they do not rampage into the helpless nations. Then we must delay them from getting here as long as possible.”

Jeevan shook his head. “Captain Ben, I still think I should go on that expedition instead of you. You have plenty to do here.”

Ben refocused on Jeevan. “Now that Sowar Betigeri can do the final step in the primer production, I’m not as needed. You, General Nahal, will hold down the fort while I’m gone. When do the elven and welven troops arrive?”

Jeevan’s infectious grin turned down. “Ki said the welven unit will arrive in three days. With news of the Lamentations, the opposing political faction in Nippur changed sides. The one made up of lamentation skeptics joined forces with Governess Innana. She is once again in charge of the city.”

“Great. And the elves?” Ben asked.

The duffadar shrugged. “As far as I know, most of them come from Grrommerrk or live in Kerma City. Ur is pretty far from here.”

Ben nodded. “If they don’t provide a full battalion of soldiers, spilt the extra guns between the Kermans and Alexandrians.” He turned to the stirithy, who sat in silence, swinging his legs back and forth. “Ssherrss, are the Kermans ready to create the black powder to our specifications?”

Ssherrss’s black-masked-fox-face lifted, and his legs stopped moving. “I jusst mmet with the weaponss mmassterrss. They arre confident. I have alsso finisshed the biggerr chemmical apparratussess.”

“Excellent. Just make sure to quality test each batch of powder the Kermans give us.” Ben beamed. “The lancers assigned to chemical production are doing a wonderful job.” His smile faded. “More importantly, by keeping the manufacturing compartmentalized, the Remulans can’t steal the process without capturing at least five lancers.” His voice turned to steel. “Which reminds me. I want to double the number of riflemen guarding the production facility.”

Jeevan’s eyes widened. “Are you expecting trouble?”

Ben’s jaws clenched several times before he nodded. “Working with the Remulans makes me feel like the frog who gave a scorpion a ride across the river.

__________________________

Two of the lancers removed the British Indian Army flag from the coffin. With reverence and military precision, the two soldiers folded the blue flag. It had a small Union Jack in the upper corner and the Star of India above crossed swords on the field of blue on the right.

“Sowar Gian Singh died a hero, doing what he loved.” Duffadar Nahal choked up a moment. “Gian worked hard to be the best soldier possible because of his love for his brothers in the 13^th Lancers. We will honor his memory and those that have gone before him by living and fighting for each other just as he did.” Jeevan nodded to the men standing next to the coffin raised upon a pyre of firewood.

Lance Duffadar Judge lifted the glass of the oil lamp he held and lit a torch. He joined the flame to Sowar Negi’s torch, and together, they set the pyre ablaze.

The flames grew, and Sowar Jadav began to sing his version of Rabindranath Tagore’s poem ‘Journey Home.’ Abu wiped the tears from his cheeks and sniffled. Once again, one of Abu’s mentors and friends would not return to his family. That he died protecting innocent people did not lessen the hurt, but it hardened Abu’s resolve to live his life the same way.

To stand up for those who can’t protect themselves. Even if it cost his life. Everyone Abu had ever lost came to him then. His heart ached for his parents, then Ganju and Gian. But the living people, the ones he’d never see again, who filled his eyes to the brim of overflowing. He missed Masako. He missed Zanna.

As the gathering broke apart, Abu excused himself from Ben and Louisa. He wanted to be alone. They held the ceremony in the part of the college’s park, which they’d turned into the 1^st Kerman rifles training grounds. A few of the park’s original trees still stood at the border of the open field. Abu wandered through the thicket of oaks that surrounded a small pond.

Blossoming water lilies added tiny bursts of color to the dark green water. Abu stepped to the pond’s edge and wondered how many students had come here to study. How many young couples had fallen in love on the shores of this hidden bit of nature amidst the hectic city? He stared at his reflection within the still water, his mind a morass of unfinished ruminations and confused emotions.

“A copper coin for your thoughts,” said a familiar yet unexpected voice from behind.

Abu spun and, in an instant, became entranced by Ningal’s hypnotic amber eyes. With a tight-lipped smile, she regarded him with the same touch of sadness and longing he’d seen when the two of them said goodbye in Grrommerrk.

He eked out, “Ningal. What are you doing here?”

The young welf stepped forward, wrapping him in her arms, and pulled his head to her shoulder. “I’m here for you,” she whispered into his ear.

Her arms pulled tighter, and he forgot everything, letting the grief flow out of him like the salt water from his eyes. Each sob freed more pain, and his arms went around her waist, clutching the young welf like a life preserver.

Abu had no idea how long they stayed like that. Through it all, Ningal patted his back, silent. When his agony began to numb, Abu croaked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I want to help.” She squeezed him again and stepped back.

Reluctant to leave the safety of her warmth, Abu sniffled as he unlatched his arms.

“I missed you, Abu.” Ningal’s pink lips parted into a beautiful smile.

Familiar emotions stirred in Abu’s gut, and he said, “Uh, I. Uh, missed you too.”

Even at such a low point, this young woman’s presence turned him into a fumbling, sex-addled adolescent. As he calmed himself, his last words registered, and he felt guilty. Until she showed up, he had not missed Ningal.

Only Zanna, he thought.

Still, it was nice to have a friend here. To not be so alone. He flashed a rueful smile. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

“What are friends for?” She returned a pleasant grin.

As if his burdens lightened, his spirits lifted. “Why are you here?”

The young welf nodded, “My father is speaking with the twins. He’s in charge of Kutha’s soldiers.” Her smile turned mischievous. “He will be stationed outside the walls for training, but he insisted I stay here with Ki and Lil.”

Warning bells gonged in Abu’s mind. Having the beautiful welf so close could be real trouble. He kept the concern from his voice as he said, “That’s smart. It will be safer here.” He pointed toward the main campus buildings. “We should probably get back.”

She grabbed his right arm. “All right. Can you escort me to the twin’s house?”

With tingles shooting up and down his body, Abu gulped. “Sure.”

As he guided Ningal out of the woods, Abu couldn’t remember Zanna’s face, no matter how much he tried.

__________________________

Louisa stood from the desk chair and directed Abu to join Ben and Jeevan around the office desk. “Good, we’re all here. Do we know where Professor Mousa is?”

Jeevan’s lip curled in disgust, and he turned away from Louisa to address Ben. “He’s at the Hurran embassy. I have one of my best Kerman soldiers keeping an eye on him. He knows to report to me when the professor returns to campus.”

Louisa ignored the slight. She would make amends, but it would not happen now based on Jeevan’s attitude. She said, “Right. Abu, your turn.” Louisa pointed toward the five pieces of the Seba positioned on top of the desk.

Abu’s face scrunched with concentration as he said, “Squawk, squawk.”

Nothing happened.

Louisa said, “You missed the slight warble on the second word.”

He squinted, his eyes becoming slits. “Squawk, squawk.”

This time, several lines of the Ancients’ script floated above the double diamond object, which sat in the middle of the four round objects of the Seba.

Ben pointed at the rows of symbols. “Run through these quickly.”

Abu obliged and poked at each line in turn. While the young man described the different settings to Ben and Jeevan, Louisa forced herself to listen without giving in to her growing irritation at Ben. She added her comments when Abu answered Ben and Jeevan’s questions. When the controls for changing the size of the Seba’s transfer dome came up, Ben pushed on the symbol for small, and it glowed brighter than the other selections.

He looked between Abu and Louisa. “Two questions. How do we test it to determine how large this area is?” He grimaced. “We don’t know what happens if someone is half in and half out of the dome. Second, can we activate the Seba without everyone seeing a giant flash of light?”

Abu held up a hand. “We can use the same steps as the temple ceremony you described. If the dome comes out during the final step, we could measure it.”

Jeevan shook his head. “I don’t remember the blue light at the temple.”

Louisa nodded with Ben and said, “I think we must travel back to Earth to test it. We can set up some small rocks or sacks of grain in circles of various widths to see what goes back home with us.” She smiled. “I’ve been giving your second question a lot of thought. The light can’t be going in the direction between the start and destination points.”

Ben leaned on the desk. “Why can’t it be the travel path?”

Louisa scooted closer to Ben and placed her hand beside his, their pinkie fingers touching. A jolt of energy shot through her, and she watched him, expecting to see a reaction. Nothing.

Louisa’s agitation went up another notch. Was he that oblivious? She pushed out a disappointed sigh as she returned to his question. “Too many variables. The planets are spinning while going around the sun. Those two factors, alone, would change where the light goes. But the one time we lived through it, and in the two written accounts, the light always goes up.”

Ben cupped his elbow while tapping his thumb against his lips. Louisa felt disappointment when his hand moved away from hers, but her irritation grew at herself and him as she stared at his mouth, thinking about the kiss. Stop it. He didn’t even notice you. Focus.

When Ben returned his hands to the desk, he brushed her hand. Again, warm ripples spread inside her stomach. Her face flushed. What is wrong with me? No. What’s wrong with him.

Ben said, “So the explosion of light is a way to dissipate the massive amounts of energy it takes to cause, for lack of a better word, the transfer.”

“That’s some pumpkins,” Abu said.

Jeevan’s eyes sparkled. “Impressive.”

Louisa bit the inside of her lip, forcing herself back to the problem. “Right. Unless you want to destroy a building, you probably shouldn’t activate the device inside, but what about underwater?”

As if he had bitten into a lemon, Jeevan pursed his lips. “Do you mean to activate the device submerged?”

Louisa touched Jeevan’s arm, and he jerked it away. “Not quite. If we returned to the Ancients’ facility under the falls, we could activate the device outside the big doors but under the rushing water.”

“It might work.” Ben nodded. “Worst case, there’s a huge explosion of water, and some light escapes, but the water might diffuse the light. When can I test it.”

Louisa frowned, her irritation boiling over. “Like hell you will. I got us into this mess, so it’s my responsibility.”

Ben’s face fell, and he started to say something. Louisa shot one eyebrow up in challenge, and he paused.

After several seconds locked into a staring contest of wills, Ben acquiesced with a nod. “Fine, but you must take someone who can operate the device. In case something happens.”

Jeevan slapped a hand on the desk. “You’re getting ahead of yourselves. We need to speak to the lads. Suppose they want to go home. Then we’ll put the dome in the middle setting, and everyone, huh, transfers back to Egypt. No testing necessary.”

Ben asked, “What would happen if the dome took some water from the falls?”

Louisa said, “I hadn’t thought of that. We’d probably wake up in a whole bunch of mud.”

“Alright. Let’s find out what your men decide. Lead the way.” Ben motioned Jeevan toward the door.

The group found the remaining sixteen lancers lounging on their beds, cleaning guns, or polishing their boots in the dormitory's main room.

As Jeevan entered the makeshift barracks, Lance Duffadar Ram bellowed, “Attention.”

The men dropped what they were doing and jumped to stand in front of their bunks.

Louisa looked at the men who had been their protectors and helpers during this crazy adventure, and a sickening feeling struck her. The same foreign sensation she’d only experienced a few times before, brushing aside her self-righteousness. Its cause: guilt.

She took a deep breath, trying to settle the roiling in her gut, and thought, Guilt is for the weak.

The emotion had descended upon her each time she, as a little girl, disappointed her mother. Louisa’s most recent affliction with the sentiment came when she caused them to land on Aaru. Ben’s disappointment caused the same gnawing pit she felt in her stomach. That moment had been short-lived because, like most men, he proceeded to say something dumb.

But these men. They had been nothing but loyal. To the point of giving their lives for their brothers, the innocent people of this city, and yes, even her. An ache grew in her chest, joining her upset stomach.

Jeevan saluted and gave them his broadest smile. “At ease.”

Louisa stepped beside Jeevan and tugged on his sleeve without really understanding why she did it. “May I speak to the men?”

Jeevan’s eyes widened in bewilderment before his face shifted back to his serious duffadar face. “If you must.”

Louisa met his stare and pulled her lips into her mouth to wet them. She nodded, and he motioned for her to continue.

A gulp later, Louisa straightened her back and put as much strength into her voice as possible. “I owe each of you an apology. It’s my fault that we are here.” She paused. All the men had their eyes on her. Too late to change her mind, she forged ahead. “It’s my fault that we’re on Aaru. I stole the Seba and accidentally activated it.”

There were a few murmurs and a couple of laughs before Sowar Betigeri said, “We know.”

Louisa hadn’t expected that and asked, “How long?”

Abu’s friend, Umrao, said, “Since the first day.”

None of that made what she had to say next any easier. Louisa took a deep breath and said, “When I was in the Ancients’ facility under the waterfall, I was able to power the Seba.”

The men shared looks, and she rushed her next words before they could ask questions. “I wasn’t sure it had worked until just before the battle, but.” She hung her head, staring at her boots. “I lied to all of you.”

Be brave, she thought, raising her face to meet the lancers’ eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She met the gaze of each man. A few faces twisted with anger or frustration, while others shook their heads in disappointment. Despite their reactions, or maybe because of them, the boiling cauldron in Louisa’s stomach eased to a simmer.

After taking each man’s silent rebuke, Louisa looked into Ben’s blue eyes and said in a loud voice, “You all deserved more, and I’ll do better in the future.”

Ben’s almost imperceptible nod gave his answer, and the pressure on her chest disappeared. With pleading eyes, she turned to Jeevan. Asking for forgiveness that she didn’t deserve.

The duffadar’s stiff shoulders relaxed, and he gave her a single nod.

The mouthed the words, “Thank you,” then turned to address all the men once more.

“I promise.”

Sowar Chib asked, “What does this mean?”

The men turned expectant faces to Jeevan, whose beard split into a jovial grin. “It means that we can go home.”

The room erupted with shouts of joy. The men jumped around, hugging each other, some crying.

Jeevan’s smile evaporated, and he held both hands up high before patting the air. The men grew silent. With order restored, he said, “Lads. You have a choice. You can decide to return to Egypt tonight and rejoin the Pelusium garrison. There is no shame in that. Or you can choose to help the Aaruans fight the ripvor.”

The lancers’ eyes darted around the room, asking each other silent questions.

Jeevan stood straighter. “I am staying until the ripvor are defeated, but each of you has your own decision to make. Some of you have families back home.”

Lance Duffadar Ram stepped into the center of the room. “Duffadar. I have been a soldier for ten years. Other than fighting to protect my brothers, the battle with the Remulans was my first time fighting for a cause worth dying for. I’m with you.”

To the last man, the 13^th Bengal Lancers vowed to fight.

Chapter 8

Outside Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 69

Emperor Octavius leaned against the table, pondering the map of the Remulan Empire and its surrounding territories. “Aquila, send word to the capital. Marshall the Empire’s reserves. Have the militia garrison our cities’ walls while every standing legion moves to the hills of the Gelan region here.” He pointed to one section of the map.

In his calm, ingratiating, and grating voice, Aquila asked, “What about the legions guarding the passes between Remus and Alexandria?”

Octavius rubbed his chin. “It would be a waste to lose the pass. Keep that legion in place, but pull the one guarding the coastal strait except for a skeleton crew.” The emperor could have sworn that he saw Aquila’s lip twitch for a split second.

“Very well, Imperator.”

More and more, Octavius felt his decisions falling in line with the wishes of his first counselor. It’s infuriating that the man seemed to be two steps ahead of him all the time.

General Kinya shook his head. “Even if they have time to prepare, those legions cannot stop the reapers. Once past those hills, the horde will ravage the heartland of Remus.”

The emperor rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to General Kinya. How had he come to surround himself with a viper and a jackal? He had to remind himself that they were just tools for reaching his and, by extension, the Empire’s goals. The emperor frowned at his newest confidant. “That is why you must not fail to bring the ripvor to us.”

“I shall do as you command.” The general pulled his shoulders back. “What happens afterward?”

“Regardless of what happens, the legions positioned at Gelan will march for Kerma City as soon as the reapers' army is committed.” Octavius moved his finger from the hills up the straight line representing the Ancients’ road through the Deshert to the abandoned city of Abydos.

His finger turned, following another Ancients’ road between the ruins and Kerma City. “If the ripvor defeat us here, they will be much reduced. The Empire’s remaining legions will end the threat. If we destroy the reapers' horde, these fresh legions will take the city.”

The general smiled. “And the Earthling’s guns?”

Aquila sneered. “I have put out feelers with the welves. To see if they might be open to an alliance.”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “Why would they deal with you? You plan on conquering the whole world.”

Octavius shook his head. “They can keep the mountains. Trying to root them out with their night vision would be too costly. Besides, I can help give them one of their greatest desires.” The emperor jabbed his finger down on the edge of the map. “Together, we will conquer Ur and help them eliminate their immortal enemies.”

Aquila smiled his nauseating smile. “Emperor, I will ensure messengers are sent to Remus within the hour. Then I will contact my welven sources to see if the negotiations have progressed.”

“Any word from the Yuhi ambassador?” Octavius inquired.

“None. Your Majesty.” Aquila lowered his eyes.

General Kinya raised an eyebrow in question.

Octavius looked toward the corner of the tent where Princess Masako leaned against some cushions, reading a book. “If the ambassador comes through, I may have a way to eliminate the threat from the Earthlings.” He smiled. “And all it will cost me is one annoying little girl.”

Masako peered over the top of her book toward the three men standing around a table and map. She could see their mouths moving but heard nothing. Benu, the emperor’s babiakhom wind singer, sat behind the men, her singing blocking everything they said. Unlike Masako’s minders and the legionaries in charge of her, Benu seemed to sympathize with her plight. She brought her candies and other treats whenever she could.

Thus, it frustrated her that her only friend did not let Masako hear their plans. After escaping, she had hoped to give Dr. Ben and Miss Louisa important information. She’d do anything to help upset Emperor Stupid Face’s plans. Every time she thought of the nickname she’d given Octavius, Masako giggled. No matter. The little scraps of information she had picked up would have to do. Tonight, I’ll be free.

__________________________

Peeking from a slit in one eye, Masako scanned the darkened tent. A few feet away, Cylia, her night minder, lay on her back, eyes closed. Drool oozed from her gaping mouth down her chin, a drop threatening to fall to her chest between wheezing intakes of breath.

Her legionary guard came in and out of view again as he walked his usual circuit around the tent. Masako began to count. She had to admire the man’s dedication to staying awake. Then again, he had plenty of motivation. One of her previous guards had received thirty lashings for napping.

The guard came into view on the far side of the tent as her count reached nine. Every move she made in the next few minutes had to happen between the counts of three and nine. That was when it was most probable for the man to have his back to her.

The count began again, and she bundled a blanket and stuffed it under her covers. At nine, she froze. Start again, a second blanket turned into a pile and hidden before becoming a statue. On the next one, she positioned the doll’s head to look like she’d turned on her side and faced the tent wall. While the guard made two more circles, she waited, ensuring he did not see anything amiss.

He came into view, and she tensed, ready to squirm through the small hole under the canvas, where she’d loosened one of the tie-downs while she leaned against it reading. At the count of two, she almost let out a squeal when Cylia turned onto her side. Her minder returned to her wheezing snore, and Masako waited for her count to start again.

Three, Masako shouted in her head and squirmed into the opening, the flap falling back in place at a count of nine. She stood in the dark space between the main pavilion where Emperor Smelly Face held court and the smaller tents surrounding it. Those were used by Octavius as sleeping quarters for him and his people. Lanterns on poles lit the pedestrian causeways on the far side of where she stood.

Masako edged down the noisy canvas alley toward her destination. There were conversations, men arguing, and snoring, but she wrinkled her nose as she passed a tent with sounds of kissing and moaning. She waited in the shadows near the main entrance to the emperor’s pavilion, which opened onto a broad avenue running through the tent city.

Even late at night, Remulan soldiers moved up and down this main thoroughfare doing this or that errand. Masako’s anxiety grew and grew until she heard the familiar sound of the trash cart coming toward her. It took a few more minutes for three slaves to pull it into view. Piled up to the edge of its sideboards, it looked like the wagon couldn’t take much more.

Masako placed her hand on her chest, trying to slow the rhythm of her heart, which felt like it might burst.

Two men entered the pavilion while the third moved toward a pile of trash on the other side of the road. Masako glanced in both directions. Soldiers approached from each direction, but none were close.

Trembling, she dashed from the hiding place to the wagon's side. She had climbed the most giant tree on the planet and hadn’t shaken like she did as she pulled herself up the sideboards and eased into the wagon bed.

Eww. Masako’s hand squished into something soft and sticky. She wormed under the first layer of refuse. Ugg. The smell of something dead slammed into her, and she dry heaved. It took every bit of her will not to bring her ick-covered hand to her face.

Whispers announced the slaves approaching, and she went still. A bucket of half-eaten fruit and the other leftovers from dinner spilled over her, splashing her face with a mixture of something wet. Some of it seeped into the corners of her mouth when she tried to sneak in a breath. It tasted like soured milk.

Every bit as nightmarish and disgusting as she’d thought it would be, Masako still had not imagined the terror washing over her now. More trash piled into the wagon, and her mind screamed, I can’t breathe.

Fighting her panic, Masako held her breath. The garbage collectors walked away, and with her lungs burning, she started counting. At fifteen, she sputtered, spitting a rind away from her lips.

She twisted her head and, finding an air pocket, sucked in a relieving breath that brought more goo into her mouth. Control the fear. Masako heard Miss Louisa’s words, and she began to say a silent mantra; You are alive, You are free, over and over.

The wagon rumbled into motion as the trashmen pulled them forward. They’d gone for a long time when Masako heard men call out and then heard a loud creak, which she imagined were the main gates. The wagon started forward when she heard a scream, and the cart jerked to a stop.

No. No. No. Masako squeezed her eyes tight as trash began to move above her.

A calloused hand grabbed her ankle, and visions of the drowning legionary pulling her under the water caused her to screech out loud, “Leave me alone,” as more spoiled milk ran into her mouth.

Another hand grabbed her wrist, and then both jerked her free of the trash. Hanging sideways in the air, Masako stared past the furious eyes of her night guard. Twenty yards behind him, the gates of the legion fort lay open. She’d made it outside. She’d almost been free.

Nooo, she screamed inside, her mind reeling with disappointment and her stomach souring like the milk in her mouth.

The legionary sneered and cursed at her in Latin. The man leaned closer and opened his mouth as if to say something else when Masako retched. The contents of her dinner spewed forward, and the man sputtered as the liquid struck his face. The grip on her ankle and wrist came free, and she fell, slamming into the ground with a thud.

Chapter 9

Kerma City, Zoru, An 5660, Day 70

As he lengthened his stride, Ben glanced at his schedule. He needed this morning’s meetings to stay on track and end early so he could do the actual work required to save this city and maybe this planet. The colossal weight of his responsibilities and the constant feeling of being behind caused him to think accusatory thoughts about Louisa. As he turned the corner, he wondered how much time he’d wasted because of her usual tardiness.

Outside the conference room door, a stunning Greek goddess wearing a royal blue chiton awaited him. All his worries and thoughts flew to the heavens. Louisa’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips did nothing to detract from an almost primal jolt of desire coursing through him.

The forcefulness of his emotions took him off guard. That he felt no lingering effects of her lie meant that after her apology to the lancers, he really had forgiven her. Another harsh realization came upon him as he fought not to take her into his arms and crush her to his chest. He’d been so busy trying to save the world he hadn’t stopped to process what had happened at the end of the battle.

Louisa had accepted his confession of love, sealing it with an ascendent, passionate, loving kiss. She did love him. Didn’t she? She hadn’t said the words out loud, but that kiss. Then again, he had been concussed at the time.

Still, Louisa’s kiss took top billing as the most romantic moment of his life, and he’d followed it up by planning for a war. Given this emotional tidal wave of love and desire threatening his self-control, he needed to understand how to proceed in this new stage of their relationship. Somewhere, in the farthest reaches of his mind, the heart-scarred portion of the man he was continued to be wary, but the rest of him celebrated having this opportunity. And that part of him needed to thank God for prayers fulfilled.

“You’re late.” Louisa’s fierce eyes softened, and she repeated something he’d said to Abu a few days earlier using a gruff voice. “If you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late.”

Ben stopped in front of her. “Mea culpa.” He leaned down, wearing his crooked grin. “And you’re early. For once.”

Louisa punched him in the arm. “Whenever I arrive, that is on time. Remember that McGehee.” She grinned and flicked her eyes to the door.

Ben chuckled and opened the portal for her. “After you.”

“Thank you.”

Louisa led the way but waited for him to pull the chair from the table before sitting. Ben nodded to Jeevan as he sat next to her.

The Duffadar shut his bloodshot eyes and tried to stifle a yawn as he said, “Hello, Captain Ben.”

“Out late again?” Ben asked, knowing the answer. The duffadar had been out carousing each night this week with his new drinking partner and heartbreak buddy, Thoresten.

Jeevan gave him a sly smile. “In bed early. Dendera didn’t allow me to get much sleep, though.”

“Duffadar Nahal, you forget yourself.” Louisa narrowed her eyes at the lancer.

Embarrassed, Jeevan looked down. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

Ben cleared his throat. “We all have a lot to do today. Status report.”

Jeevan licked his lips. “Ssherrss installed the new distilling equipment, and the first larger batches of chemicals are now in process.”

“Good, any concerns?” Ben moved visiting the processing buildings to the top of his list.

“Nothing so far. As long as the raw materials keep coming, we should be good, and the Kermans assure us they can provide the greater amounts.” The duffadar licked his finger and turned a page in a small notebook on the table. “Training is picking up. We had some delays because of early skills testing. As before, some of the potential troops who tried to shoot were skittish, and we had to turn them away.”

Ben thought of the ubiquitous nature of firearms on Earth and how he wished the Aaruans would never get used to them, but guns were here to stay. They didn’t have time to allow the Aaruans to adjust. With so few weapons, they could afford to turn good soldiers away and go with those faster to adapt.

Ben said, “Understood. Test as many as it takes to find those with the best chance to be sharpshooters. A well-aimed bullet is worth ten poorly aimed ones.”

An irritating screech cut off his following words as Louisa scooched her chair closer to his. Ben looked at her as she placed her hand on his wrist. A jolt ran up his arm as she asked, “What about the grenades? Is there anything that I can do to help?”

Jeevan’s beard split, showing his blazing white teeth. “Ssherrss has a full team working on the production. That is going well, but I know they could use some help testing the fuse issue.”

Louisa smiled. “I’ll find Ssherrss after my other meetings and help set up some proper experiments. They need different timed fuses to drop from different heights, correct?”

“Exactly.” Jeevan’s eyes lit up. “If the wind singers can effectively drop the grenades while out of bow range, we can destroy their siege engines before they know what’s happening.”

“And the wind singers, anything else they need?” Ben wished he knew the full capabilities of these singers to see how to use them best.

“I met with a babiakhom that works for the Remulans. Djoser. I think he’s a mercenary.” Jeevan shrugged. “He described a fight that he and some Kerman wind singers had with flying ripvor when they went to verify the invasion. The enemy is not as nimble in the air because of their arms, but they employ small handheld crossbows, and he asked for revolvers for his men.”

Louisa jumped in with a question. “What’s wrong with a ripvor’s arms?”

Jeevan laughed. “They are as long as ours, but the placement of their arms and joints don’t let them go wide.” The duffadar laughed harder as he put his elbows on his chest and wiggled them around.”

Ben and Louisa laughed along with him, and then Ben said, “Louisa and I need to get going, or we are going to be late for our next meeting.”

As they rushed out the door, Louisa grabbed Ben’s arm in a tight hold and pulled him to her side. The strange position slowed his pace. He turned to protest but held his tongue. Her intense eyes displayed the same emotions he’d felt a short while before.

Ben wanted to bonk his head. He’d been so worried about his feelings that he hadn’t even considered how such strong emotions might affect the often standoffish and much less experienced Louisa. It had been decades since his first love. How had he acted back then?

Consumed.

In his adolescent years, he’d found it hard to think about anything other than the young lady. They only saw one another on Sundays and Wednesdays during church events, but he had thought of nothing but her the rest of the time. From the touch of Louisa’s hand and the look in her eyes, he saw the same longing he’d felt all those years ago.

The overwhelming weight of the world’s safety and the responsibility of caring for Louisa’s heart caused Ben to remember that it wasn’t all on him. When he wasn’t able, God was. Ben just needed to be willing. He patted Louisa’s hand and adjusted his gate, his shoulders feeling lighter for the first time in days.

__________________________

From across the map-covered table, Prince Tambal leered at a sneering General Kinya. The half-brothers looked ready to kill one another. Ben needed to break up their current face-off before it came to blows.

“Settle down, boys. When we’re done, you can kill each other.” They ignored his babiakhom-translated words, and Ben slammed his fist on the table. The two men twisted their heads toward Ben as if slapped. “Good. Can we get back to planning?”

Prince Tambal, the younger brother, sighed. “Fine. General McGehee, what is your plan.”

Ben hated his new title, but it came with commanding the 1^st Kerman Rifles regiment. Of course, having a special designation didn’t mean he had any military answers.

He shook his head. “I only have overall goals for the expedition. You two know the regional geography and the best way to accomplish those goals.”

General Kinya cleared his throat. “I will take one thousand horse archers to harass the reapers until they turn toward Kerma City.”

Louisa reached past Ben, leaning over the map, and pointed toward the line of red blocks representing the marching ripvor army. She seemed to go out of her way to touch as much of him as possible. Ben pushed his rising thoughts back down as he inhaled her scent of lemon and lavender.

She tapped the lead block. “Will it be that easy? Shoot a few arrows, and they will come after you?”

Prince Tambal said, “That won’t work. Unless we deal with the Bata, anyone who gets close, even on horses, will be overtaken and destroyed.”

“How bad is it?” Ben picked up four smaller black blocks and placed them on either side of the ripvor column. “These will represent the enemy’s flocks of Bata.”

General Kinya rubbed his chin with his free hand while holding his legionary helmet under his other arm. “Scouts estimate they have twenty thousand.”

“Even with guns, they’d overwhelm any force less than two to three thousand.” Ben waved toward the prince. “How many men are you bringing?”

Prince Tambal answered, “One hundred chariots, each with a driver and archer, but both can shoot when not moving. We will also bring five squads of wind singers.”

“With my three hundred riflemen, we’ll have exactly fifteen hundred.” Ben tapped his fingers on the map for several seconds. “I have an idea, but I must speak to Ssherrss first. If he has enough singers, we can prepare a nasty surprise for those giant bats.”

Louisa nudged him with her shoulder. “Going to give us a hint?”

Ben smiled. “Wire. We’ll make some barbed chicken wire.”

The brothers glanced at each other in confusion before remembering their hatred and glowering at one another.

Louisa moved some blocks from Kerma City toward the line of ripvor blocks. Again, she reached across his body, her breast brushing his arm. “It’s like cloth made of wire. You can stretch it between some trees, for example, and the Bata won’t be able to get to you, but the wire must have holes big enough for you to shoot through.”

Ben swallowed, hiding his face as she moved back to stand beside him. His cheeks heated with desire and embarrassment.

“Ah, hum. Right.” Sheepish, he bit his lip, not making eye contact before looking back to the brothers, “She’s right. It’ll be like shooting birds in a barrel.”

Louisa’s eyes narrowed at him as she pointed to the new yellow, blue, and green blocks. “How long will it take you to reach them?”

Prince Tambal pointed to the river on the map. “We’ll travel by river to here.” He moved his finger to a bridge marker. “That will save us several days. My chariots will set the pace. I think catching the horde will take two to three days.”

“Given the reaper’s pace, they should be approaching these hills near the Via West. If they reach the road, they will reach the borders of Remus in a week.” General Kinya picked up the lead block of red and pushed it to some hills near one of the Ancients’ roads marked on the map. He nodded to Louisa. “If this wire can do what you say, this is the best place to use it.”

Ben nodded. “Alright, there’s a lot to do. I’ll let you know today if we can build the wire. If not, we’ll need to bring more men. Start preparing your smaller strike force, but have an additional two thousand men and horses ready just in case.”

After ironing out a few more details, the meeting broke up. As they left, the angry brothers elbowed and jostled one another like petulant schoolboys, fighting to be first through the door.

As their attending wind singers followed them out, Louisa thought, Good, alone at last.

Ben frowned. “Those two are going to skunk up the whole works.”

Louisa cocked her head at him trying to interpret his latest frontierism.

Ben chuckled. “It means to make a mess of things.”

“Ah.” She usually loved the silly, tilted grin he gave her. But once again, he’d ignored her overtures. Determined to be so bold that even he could not ignore her, she placed her hand on his chest. Looking up, she blinked in what she hoped was an alluring manner while feeling the thump of his heart.

An off-kilter smile grew on his face, and butterflies materialized in her stomach, becoming more frenzied the broader and more lopsided his grin became. His hand touched her cheek. The butterflies caught fire. She leaned into him, chewing at the corner of her lip, trying to calm the quivering inside.

“I wish I could stay.” Soft, concerned blue eyes stayed locked with hers as he said, “But, I have to speak with Ssherrss right now.” Like stones, the butterflies dropped along with her hopes. His hand disappeared, but the heat remained. “Please tell Ram to pick the best three hundred riders and prepare to march in three days. See you soon.”

In a flash, he bent, pecked her forehead, and walked past her.

Argh, Louisa screamed inside. Is that man daft?

Her longing twisted into anger as his back disappeared into the hall. In just a few days, he would go to war. Again. Not once had Dr. Do Good given her a real kiss while he’s had his wits about him.

Louisa clenched her fists at her side. If he doesn’t get himself killed, I’m going to. She stopped.

The man she loved. The only man she’d ever desired to be with might die, and all she could think about was not getting what she wanted. Mon Dieu, but I want him.

But, of course, he needed to prepare. That way, he could come back to her. Ben had to come back so she could give him her love. Her everything. Benjamin Moore McGehee, you will not die without loving me as you promised.

Louisa nodded and marched out the door. She knew what she wanted, and she would seize it tomorrow, even if she didn’t quite know how.

__________________________

Abu put volume one of the Complete History of Lamentations back on the shelf. I’m not sure if I can read much more from this author, he thought as he pulled out volume two of the books.

His Aaruan wasn’t good enough to read any of the books in hieratic, so he read the campus library’s one history in Greek. He settled back into the wooden chair and flipped the cover open, thinking that when the battle ended to have Ssherrss build them a printing press. He flipped the page, and a shadow fell over him. As he began to twist in his seat, a pale face almost collided with him.

“Oh, Noble Falcon, what are you reading?” Ningal’s amber eyes captured Abu’s.

Her pink lips were mere inches from his, and Abu could smell her citrusy breath. He swallowed. “Researching the Lamentations.”

Ningal smiled, and Abu’s heart rate shot up. “Can I help?” She licked her finger, leaned over him, and turned a page in the book. “My history teachers made me read this one. If I weren’t immortal, I would have died from boredom.”

“It is dry.” He nodded.

She giggled. “A desert is dry.” She pointed at the book. “That is parched.”

He laughed. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

Ningal stood, and the tension in Abu’s body eased. He took a deep breath. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his. She moved around the table with a fluidity and grace that kept Abu’s eyes locked on every subtle movement.

She is so beautiful. Zanna’s frowning face popped into his mind, and he looked away. Then, like a bee drawn to a blooming flower’s nectar, his eyes returned to catalog every feminine movement. Ningal ran her finger over the spines of the handwritten books made of vellum, and he thought he had never seen anything so elegant.

A distant, nagging guilt kept trying to get him to stop, but Zanna had told him to move on. Besides, he’d probably never see Zanna again. So, he would. Move on, that is. He blocked out a vision of her, shaking her head in disappointment.

Ningal reached high, attempting to remove a thick book from a high shelf. Abu jumped to his feet. “Let me get that for you.”

He hurried around the table and pulled the tome from the case. Ningal smiled as she took the book and began thumbing through the pages. She opened it wide enough for him to see. The Aaruan cursive script had been written by a master scribe. Abu made out a few words, but he looked at her.

She said, “This is about the second to last real Lamentations.”

“The one that brought the Romans and the Sassanians?” Abu asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I can read it out loud for you.”

“That would be very helpful.” He grinned down at her. Abu had grown another inch or two since he’d seen her last. “Thank you.”

For the next three hours, Ningal read and answered every question he had. He learned how the Romans and Sassanians joined forces and tactics. They taught the Aaruans how to combine Roman legions and Sassanian heavy cavalry to achieve devastating results. This new way of fighting overcame the ripvor, which had adopted the less mobile Greek phalanx from the previous lamentations. That seemed to be the common theme across each of the alien invasions. The ripvor would have adapted the previous lamentations innovations but never showed up with anything new of their own.

By the time Abu had learned this lesson, his teenage self-control strained to its breaking point. At every opportunity, Ningal flirted with him. Blatant, she used body language and innuendo to drive him crazy. She hinted at wanting to take their relationship to a physical level it had yet to go. Abu’s leg began to cramp from the constant bouncing, and his mind raced almost as fast as his heart.

“I’m hungry, Abu. Let’s have lunch.” Ningal’s lips pouted. “Research is hard work.”

Abu blinked at those lips. He wanted so much to kiss them, but he felt so out of control and thought he needed to step away to calm down. Maybe he should seek some advice.

Abu put on his most sincere frown. “I’m sorry, Ningal. I forgot I’m supposed to meet Umrao, and I’m already late.”

Her pout deepened as disappointment touched her eyes.

Allah, preserve me. He thought and patted her hand. “We’ll share that meal later. I promise.”

Abu fled the library, trying to compose himself.

__________________________

“What’s the problem, Abu?” Umrao scraped the blade of his sword over the wet stone at an angle. He stopped and looked up with a grin. “You can lose your virginity, and there is nothing bad that can happen.”

Abu frowned at the almost-twenty-year-old man.

Umrao nodded. “Humans and welves can’t have babies. Even without the magic of life singers, immortals don’t have diseases.” With a lude sneer, he lifted his sword, thrusting it through the empty air three times before putting it back down. “You’ll have the time of your life for about that long.”

“Grow up,” Abu growled, narrowing his eyes. “I hope you’re not this immature with Esther.”

Esther’s name wiped away Umrao’s glib smirk, and he grew serious. “Sorry, Abu. You’re right. It’s a serious matter even if there aren’t those other consequences.”

“Do you love Esther?” Abu cocked his head.

Umrao’s lips grew into a tight line, and he nodded. “I do, but I’m not sure she loves me.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll be fighting again soon. We’re not sure how much longer we have.” He looked at his sword. “That’s why we don’t talk about the future.” He caught Abu’s gaze. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

“So, what should I do?” Abu asked with sincerity.

Umrao sighed. “I can’t answer for you, but if I don’t make it, I’ll die without any regrets.”

“Thanks a lot.” Abu couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Umrao’s advice to live without regrets fell into the same common-sense category as; look both ways before crossing the street. He walked away disappointed. What had he expected from the nineteen-year-old who was almost as clueless about girls as Abu? Then again, if Umrao died tomorrow, he wouldn’t die a virgin. That was more than Abu could say.

As he neared his house, someone yelled his name. Abu turned and thought he might fall over with shock. Here he was, thinking about being with Ningal and worrying about Zanna’s feelings. Then, out of the blue, Zanna’s father shows up. Was this one of those instances Dr. Ben told Abu to look for? Where Allah spoke to him through others. If so, what did it mean?

“Maskim Garza, what a surprise,” Abu said in Greek.

A tall, handsome elf, who looked to be in his late twenties, strode forward and held his arm out to Abu, who clasped it. “It is good to see you, Mr. Saqr,” said the Maskim–– sub-ambassador ––from Ur to Grrommerrk. He let go of Abu and dug into his tunic, producing a small scroll. He held it out. “Zanna asked me to deliver this.”

Abu took it, handling it with reverence. “Thank you. How is Zanna?”

“Upset with me.” The elf shook his head. “She wanted to come, but I wouldn’t let her.”

Abu nodded. “I’m glad. She’s safe there.”

“Exactly. Maybe you can include that in your reply. I would appreciate it.” The tanned elf’s dark-brown eyes twinkled as he laughed. “I must run. I’m in command of the elven troops.”

Abu held up the scroll. “I understand. Thank you for this.”

The sub-ambassador touched his finger to his forehead, giving him a half-wave-half-salute, and headed toward the campus exit.

After watching him disappear, Abu untied the string on the scroll and pulled the ends apart. He had to rotate it to read Zanna’s Greek.

Dearest Abu,

It took almost a month, but my tears have finally stopped. I hope you know how much our time together meant to me. Even still, there is an emptiness that persists. It lingers around me, this melancholy.

I miss my friend. I miss the dream of what could never have been.

I pray that this same malaise has not beset you. That you are happy and sleeping well. Yesterday, I laughed. The sound caught me off guard, but I quickly imagined I could hear you laughing with me.

I need you to know that I love you enough to want your happiness in all things. Enough to want you to forget about me while you search for a way back to the stars. I will be fine. Remember, a month is but a minute to me, but time does not work the same for you. You can make me happiest by living your life to its fullest. To become the man that I imagined you’d become.

I shall never forget you, my first love from across the universe.

Zanna

Abu didn’t know what he’d expected as he unrolled the scroll, but he hadn’t expected that. For Zanna to be her happiest if he lived his mortal life to the fullest. And who but Allah knows how long his life might be?

The faces of Gian, the always serious sowar, and Ganju, the happy-go-lucky lancer, came unbidden. In times like these, life felt even more precarious. Abu had never considered it before, but with Zanna’s letter squashing his guilt, he realized a personal truth in Umrao’s advice. A truth he felt deep in his bones.

Abu didn’t want to die a virgin.

Chapter 4

Kerma City, Taru, An 5660, Day 67

Louisa knocked.

“Who’ss therre?” Purr-growled a grumpy stirithy who could only be Ssherrss since most of the fox-like aliens were beyond amicable.

“Ssherrss, it’s Louisa.”

“Come in,” Khepri’s voice boomed through the wood.

Louisa opened the door and walked into the living room of the small cottage Khepri’s family called home on the campus turned garrison.

Ssherrss almost ran into her. “Good morrning, Missss Louissa. Lot’ss to do. Got to go.” The reddish-brown stirithy brushed past her with a canvas satchel grasped in his four-thumbed hand.

Louisa waved. “Have a good day.”

As the door shut behind her, she found Khepri sitting on an oversized–– for humans anyway ––stuffed leather couch.

The big wolf-woman’s hands worked with two giant wooden needles, knitting thick blue yarn. Without looking up, Khepri said, “Louisa, how are you?”

“Good, Khepri, but I need your help?”

The needles stopped moving. The giant wolf’s eyes locked with Louisa’s as Khepri lowered her work onto her lap. The canine sniffed twice and shook her head. “You need to take that up with Ben.” Her eyes smiled at Louisa. “From the fire, I’m smelling, that must have been quite a kiss.”

With her cheeks growing warm, Louisa tried and failed to push down thoughts of Ben’s lips. “You’re right.” She shook her head. Despite being raised Orthodox Greek and then Catholic, confession went against all of Louisa’s training. Still, she needed to say the words. “I think I love that man, and it scares me how he keeps creeping into my thoughts.”

Why didn’t he kiss me good morning? Louisa couldn’t express her disappointment out loud, but just as fast, she thought how silly she was for considering it. The man was busy.

Khepri panted as her snout bounced along with Louisa’s words. “And?”

And what? Louisa pondered her friend’s query in earnest and knew the answer. Vocalizing the words challenged her. As the master of her own fate, she didn’t like needing anyone.

Always accept the truth, she told herself, and she laid her heart bare for her friend. “I want to be near him. I want him to touch me. To kiss me.” Louisa’s voice turned breathy.

“And?”

Louisa paused. Did she want to take that ultimate step? “I’m not sure about that yet. This is all so new to me. I’ll climb that mountain when I’m ready. She shook her head. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Khepri tilted her head and waited.

“I want to talk to you about what Ben said last night. When we got home, the three of us had a meeting, and Ben slipped up and said we were a family.”

“That’s wonderful.” The wolfwoman pumped her knitting needles into the air.

Louisa tried to dampen her friend’s excitement. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be an instant mother. What do I know about fourteen-year-old boys?”

Khepri put her project on the small table beside the couch and stood, her head only inches from a ceiling beam. “You are ready. I bet you know much more about what Abu needs than he does. Children are idiots until they grow up.”

Louisa felt her doubts slipping away. “I guess.”

“Besides, your new family is normal compared to mine. My situation keeps getting stranger.” Khepri’s amber canine eyes locked with hers, growing serious.

So true, Louisa thought as she pictured Khepri’s strange pack of a family. The giant wolfwoman was spouse to the diminutive and grumpy fox-like stirithy, Ssherrss, whom she now shared with a second wife, the stirithy, Hemmetrre. Louisa chuckled. “You’re right.”

The wolf’s eyes narrowed, sparkling with mischief, and she winked at Louisa without saying a word.

Louisa blinked with confusion. “Wait, what are you not telling me?”

“In six months, I will start calling you Auntie Louisa.”

“Auntie…” Louisa caught her breath.

Khepri rolled her sharp-clawed hand as if that would help Louisa understand.

It clicked, and Louisa yelped, “That’s wonderful.” She threw her arms around Khepri’s waist. “You’re going to be a mother.”

Khepri said, “Technically, Hemmetrre is, but yes. I am.”

Absent the elation Louisa expected in Khepri’s voice, she pulled back and looked up. “What’s wrong?”

The wolf-woman’s brow furrowed. “The timing isn’t optimal.”

Children were suboptimal at any time, but Louisa got her friend’s meaning. To raise a child while the whole world descended into madness had to be terrifying. She wanted to think of something to reassure her friend, but the fight ahead of them promised them nothing but uncertainty. The Aaruans overcame the ripvor during previous lamentations, but past results did not guarantee the future.

A solution grew as she thought about her uncle’s rules for being a good thief, Always have an escape route.

Louisa took Khepri’s hand-paws in hers. “Ben, Ssherrss, and the Lancers will win, but no matter what happens, I’ll make sure your pups are safe.”

Khepri’s head tilted and reminded Louisa of a regular dog trying to comprehend its owner’s indecipherable speech. “How can you guarantee that?”

Louisa shook her head. “Let’s just say I have a backup plan if everything goes to hell.”

Chapter 5

Nation of Umma, Taru, An 5660, Day 68

A hundred yards above and to the right of the squadron of Kerman wind singers, Djoser scanned the horizon toward the setting sun. Unlike the human wind singer flying with them, his transparent inner eyelids allowed him to see without squinting or wearing goggles against the rushing wind. He glanced down—thousands of feet below, intermittent fields of prairie grass and cultivated grain flowed by in quick succession.

Full of life, the pattern soothed Djoser’s nerves with its normality. Much different than the sands of the desert and the rocky crags of the southern hives they’d flown over most of the day, but even those landscapes––belonged. The scar ripped into the land did not. The destruction behind the horde looked as if a million rutting hogs ate every blade of grass above before gobbling the grubs below.

Once again, he regretted reporting Iskur’s capture to the emperor. That decision cost him his immediate freedom and could soon cost him his life. Little more than a well-paid indentured servant, he raced toward the reaper army while every instinct screamed to fly as far away as possible.

For Djoser, reapers were little more than ghost stories that his mother told him to make him behave. Ghosts did not stir up a dust cloud so vast that the flyers could see it from thirty miles back. After a quick singing discussion, Djoser and the captain in charge of the Kermans agreed to do a single fly-by.

Refugees from Marad, a large city in the nation of Umma, said the reapers appeared two days ago in the east, a short march from the city. The populace fled while the city’s ten thousand soldiers manned the walls, hoping to give the civilians a chance to escape.

An Umman wind singer who watched the assault described an unstoppable reptilian tsunami washing over the city defenses in minutes, but the sacrifice worked. The marauders paused to loot and then raze the city. Nothing remained.

After the destruction, the ripvor army marched east before going north and then east again to skirt the Eastern Hives. With the sun at their backs, the wind singers would stay a mile north of the army while flying by.

The five Kermans moved into the famous geese-like V formation, hoping to disguise their approach. Each second, the writhing patchwork of red, blue, and green drew closer. Djoser tilted his arm down, gliding behind and to one side of the Kerman’s pattern, making it uneven.

His listening song went out in all directions, seeing where his eyes could not. He ignored the marching reapers and scanned the soundwaves for undulations, signaling unknown flyers. With no unusual noises, he focused on the endless train of marching military formations, each unit wearing one of three colors—red, green, or blue. Like an endless quilted scarf lying over the countryside, the reptile army stretched miles ahead.

Djoser began to count, dividing the numbers by color. He wondered if the colors had any significance. Singing ability? Tribal?

They had traveled a few miles alongside the reapers when an abnormal whooshing sound reached his listening ring. Djoser twisted his arms. He performed a slow roll to find the source. From a few hundred yards above, four blots of white and brownish green closed the distance. He locked onto the threads of sliced wind that the four ripvor made.

Djoser assessed the situation in the time it took to complete his flying roll. The attackers had the advantage of height and speed. He could not outrun the reapers without a battle. Djoser tried to avoid fighting as a matter of principle. If it had to happen, he made sure to never lose, especially in his domain. He owned the sky.

Let’s see what these monsters can do.

“Under attack. Above and behind. Break formation.” Djoser scream-sung to the others. He completed his roll and peeled off to the left. He lost altitude, gaining speed as he pulled harder into the turn.

“Scatter,” The squadron leader said, icy calm.

Djoser focused on the four strings of sound he’d identified, blocking out the atmospheric disruptions from the Kermans.

A dart from a handheld crossbow flashed by a few feet to his side, and his arm flinched away on instinct. He wobbled and pushed his arms back to right himself. He thanked Shai for not bringing Bastet with him. The caracal’s sling would have destabilized him more.

He mentally spun the strings of sound into flight patterns. Three attackers pursued the Kermans while one attempted to turn with him to stay within striking distance. Fifty yards above him, that reaper flew past, going in the opposite direction. The ripvor wind singer leveled out and tried to come around.

Djoser pulled into a climb. When he had gained a hundred yards of altitude on the reaper, he went vertical, pulling in his arms. As his momentum faltered, he sang the air to circle him, the self-made twister spinning him one hundred and sixty degrees. The precise number needed to align with his enemy’s new trajectory. He bent at the waist, stretching his arms wide as he sang air into his patagium, the skin stretching from his arms to his body, before diving toward the reaper.

Pain screeched in Djoser’s ears as loud pops echoed back to him. The Kermans singers had brought some of the Earthlings’ small guns. Djoser manipulated the listening song, blocking out those frequencies as he got his first good look at a reaper.

Fifty yards ahead and twenty below, the brownish-green creature, its neck almost as long as its tail, flew using manufactured wings like a human wind singer. Unlike the humans on Aaru, which used material attached to their arms to simulate babiakhom flight, the wings were fixed to ripvor’s back using a special vest. This made it very difficult for these singers to perform the acrobatics of their Aaruan counterparts.

A memory tickled. Something about the giant lizard’s arms being unable to go all the way out to its sides. That didn’t keep the damn demon’s neck from twisting like a snake to look behind and upward, straight at Djoser. The raptor-like beak went wide, screaming a challenge.

With an unexpected suddenness, the creature barrel rolled. Djoser’s eyes bulged at the small crossbow in the reaper’s hand, held away from his bulbous body. Djoser had a second to twist and pull in his wings as the reaper took aim. Another small bolt flashed by mere inches from his left shoulder.

Djoser spread his arms just a little, forming a small v while leaning into his dive. The reaper finished its roll, and Djoser focused on his target. He had a few seconds before the reaper reloaded its weapon. Then again, those clawed feet and hands were all the lizard needed to defend itself if Djoser allowed the creature to bring them to bear.

A quick song played in Djoser’s mind; pushing the buttons on his wrist holders and two six-inch blades popped out, the handles, tethered to the wrist sheaths, rested against his backward pointing palms. He gripped the knives, the thrill of the dive and the anticipation of coming violence bringing a jolt of energy. He focused because, in aerial combat, the timing meant life or death.

The gap closed to twenty yards. The ripvor turned right. Djoser adjusted with a tilt of his left arm. Ten yards. The hysakas-sized lizard began to roll.

Now! Djoser’s hands shot forward as he sang the circle song, spinning him. A yard from the creature’s rotating wing, the drag of Djoser’s patagium stretching wobbled him a bit, but his circle song kept the flap of skin as close to his body as possible.

The reaper screamed and twisted its long neck toward him, but Djoser’s blades tore through the cloth-covered, wooden wing of the enemy flier. As he shot past, a giant beak snapped a mere foot from Djoser’s leg. The blow against the reaper’s flying apparatus sent Djoser spinning away.

The circle song ceased with a thought, and he stretched his arms. The loose skin puffed full, and he pulled up to gain altitude. His eyes darted toward his opponent. The reaper plunged toward the ground, its mangled wing flapping behind it. Something strange happened then. The ripvor cut away its vest and wings. Then, a big umbrella-looking cloth shot from the creature’s back. It popped open full of air, and the damn thing began to float down, the ripvor hanging from lines attached to the umbrella.

Djoser shook his head, thinking, I’ve got to get one of those.

He turned on all frequencies and found the other flyers nearby. Four of the Kermans were still in the air.

Djoser asked, “Status?”

“Lost one. Enemy all down.” The section leader replied.

“Time to go. Regroup to the northwest. You must report what you’ve seen.” Djoser relayed the rally point as he adjusted his flight path.

Djoser replayed the fight. He’d been lucky he hadn’t taken an arrow from the reaper. With a shake of his head, he pondered not returning to Kerma City. Considered changing course and flying to the continent of Rastis. That is until he remembered that the Empire’s assassins were everywhere. Unable to escape his fate, he decided that he’d obtain one of the Earthling’s small guns, no matter the cost.

Chapter 6

Kerma City, Taru, An 5660, Day 68

For several hours Louisa waited at the dining room table, a plate of food ready for Ben’s return. What had he done to her? She shook her head as she again looked for a clock that didn’t exist. Aaruans and their reliance on their moons for telling time frustrated her almost as much as her own foolishness.

Like one of those love addled fools in her friend’s romance novels, she pined away for the man. There wasn’t an hour that did not go by that she did not think about his crooked grin, or their kiss. Tonight, though, her frustration with herself soon found another target.

Ben’s tardiness made it plain that he didn’t appreciate the chance he’d been given. Besides, she never allowed anyone to waste her time. She wasn’t going to start now.

Louisa sighed. Enough, she chided herself.

The man needed to prepare for the coming fight. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to be with her.

The door opened; startling Louisa whose years of training kept her from flinching but her eyes did widen. Ben hung his cavalry hat on a peg by the door as he closed it. His eyes sagged from weariness, and he scuffed his boots on the wood flooring as he moved to go up the stairs, not even seeing her. The way he looked made her feel guilty at her irritation which caused her to get angry at herself and even angrier at him.

“It’s about time.” Louisa caught herself saying, not able to hide the testiness in her voice.

Ben’s head swiveled to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Good evening.”

An exasperated fire grew in Louisa’s belly. She tried to douse it, but her words still came out hot. “I’m sure you’re hungry. I fixed you a plate.” She stood and walked toward the stairs.

“Uh. Thank you. You’re not staying?”

“I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning,” Louisa shot over her shoulder. She didn’t know why but she just could not be in the room with him right now.

“Alright. Sweet dreams.” Ben pulled out a chair, scraping the legs on the floor.

Louisa kept herself from stomping up the stairs and headed to bed, wondering if tonight’s dream would be sweet or as sour as she felt right now.

Chapter 1

Outside Kerma City, Taru, An 5660, Day 66

Out of tears, Masako cowered into the canvas wall of the tent, hugging a pillow. Since being dragged away from the fortress wall, she had cried for Abu, Miss Louisa, and Dr. Ben. Around the time she’d cried herself out, the creaking, swooshing, thumping sounds of the catapults throwing stones stopped as if they had also run dry.

Are they dead? Am I cursed? She didn’t dare to hope. Everyone who had ever cared for her had died or had been lost in some way. She thought of leaving her grand uncle, whom she had only met but who had shown her more love in those three weeks than she’d ever known.

Emperor Octavius had been so confident of victory as they watched waves of legionaries storming through the breach in the giant wall protecting Kerma City. Masako had been shocked by the man’s vicious words, telling her that her friends were going to die because they dared to stand up to him. She felt numb. Resigned to misery, she closed her eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe she wouldn’t wake up.

A slight breeze told her that someone had come into the tent. She winced at the sound of the emperor’s Latin words and squeezed her eyelids tighter shut, too afraid to see the joy on his face. The wind in the large tent stirred again.

This time, the emperor’s babiakhom translated the Aaruan words from General Kinya. “Why the hell did you call off the attack? Damn the Ripvor. We were moments away from overrunning the Earthlings, and the city would have been mine.”

His words didn’t make sense for a long moment, and she repeated them in her mind.

The Remulans lost. Are they still alive? She thought as she opened one eye.

The emperor took a long pull from his wine glass. He seemed to regard the rage-contorted face of the Kerman general the same way he regarded Masako when she tried to stab him. She and the general were too unimportant to stir the man’s emotions, much less his actions.

With each passing second, the general looked close to losing control. His dark hand gripped the pommel of his sword so hard it lost several shades of color.

The emperor passed his glass to a beautiful slave woman who knelt beside his chair. “I do not share your optimism. The Earthlings dispatched the Star Knight along with most of the men equipped with Seba shields.”

“But,” Kinya started.

A raised hand stopped him short.

The emperor said, “Besides, we will use the Earthlings’ guns to defeat the Ripvor.”

They’re alive. Masako’s second eye popped open as rekindled hope evaporated her weariness like water splashed on hot coals.

“We don’t need them to defeat the reapers.” Spittle sprayed out with the general’s words.

“But it will be easier. And when the lamentations are over, Kerma will be but the start of the nations who will fall to the empire.” The emperor smiled. “All I ask is for you to have a little patience.”

The bubbling tension in the general’s stance eased to a simmer. “I will turn my attention to this new threat, but I expect you to apprise me of the preparations to take the city as soon as I am victorious.”

An eyebrow shot up from the emperor. “I’ll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it.” The Remulan stood and glowered at the Kerman. “Remember, the army I allow you to lead. That army will die for me.”

Taking a step back, General Kinya snapped to attention and slammed his fist over his heart. “Imperator, I understand. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. It won’t happen again.” He brought his arm down to his side but stayed at attention. “Is there anything else?”

At the slight shake of the emperor’s head, the general said, “Hail Octavius.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the tent.

The emperor watched him leave. Faustulus, the emperor’s head servant, came forward to stand at Octavius’s side. The fingers on one hand rubbed up and down on the sides of his toga. “Your Majesty, the wind singer you asked for is outside.”

“Send him in.” The emperor sat on his chair, his face a mask of concentration.

A babiakhom made his way to the center of the tent. He bowed and, upon coming up, said, “Your Majesty, you asked for me?”

Octavius’s eyes turned from where they stared at nothing and lighted on the wind singer. “Djoser. The Kermans will surely demand to see the reapers with their own eyes. You will escort them and, at the same time, get an accounting of the enemy.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“Steal one of those hand-thrown bombs the Kermans used to destroy my siege engines. That’s all for now.” The emperor flicked his fingers in dismissal.

“I understand your Majesty.” The wind singer bowed again and walked out.

When the tent flap fell back into place, the emperor’s gaze flashed on Masako. She held her breath, not wanting to be seen. He looked away from her, taking the wine glass from the kneeling woman.

After a large gulp, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Princess. Your friends still live, but it is only a short reprieve.” Masako wanted to jump up and cheer, but he turned to face her, and his words made her shiver. “I made a vow and will keep it or die.”

She buried her face into the pillow she hugged. It had been almost three weeks since she gave the ambassador the pin with the pearl. Would Miss Louisa ever receive her message?

Her best hope of escape had always been Miss Louisa, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to free herself. Reticent about her one good plan, she chose to push forward despite its disgusting nature. If her timing were right, they’d throw her out of the fort with the rest of the trash.

Chapter 2

Kerma City, Taru, An 5660, Day 66

Ben’s scar twitched with nervousness, and Louisa touched her lips without thinking. Even with the world coming to an end, she remembered the kiss. She wanted another. And a bath. She needed a bath in the worst way. The dirt and acrid smell of burnt black powder that had seeped into her clothes didn’t bother her, but the horrors she’d seen during the battle made her want to scrub her skin with a wire brush.

Can those memories ever be washed away?

That would need to wait, and she consoled herself by taking a drink from a proffered canteen. With her eyes still locked on Ben, she swished the warm water around and swallowed. Her thoughts flowed back to the end of the battle, How was that an hour ago?

Ben and the Lancers had conducted a desperate defense to save the city of Kerma from being destroyed by the Remulans’ legions. With the momentum turning against them, Louisa joined the fight. She’d made a mad dash across the battlefield to save Ben and killed the bullet-proof Star Knight using the Ancient’s tool.

Ben proclaimed his love, and then they kissed.

All thoughts screeched to a halt, and she pondered the words she had spoken only to herself. Do I love him?

She retraced those last desperate moments when she thought Ben was going to die. Reliving that memory caused her stomach to sink, and she had to stop a sob before it escaped.

Incongruous and as incredulous as it might be to Louisa, she was in love. She’d long resigned herself to life without romantic love, one without demands and expectations. This unnatural feeling urged her to run away. She ignored that first instinct and asked herself a question she could not answer. Now what?

Would he still love her once she told him her secret? A sudden doubt wormed into her mind, and the canteen’s lukewarm water churned in her stomach.

Ben’s lips moved, bringing Louisa to the present. “Queen Nabra. Prince Tambal.”

Followed by an honor guard of heavy infantry, the queen and heir to the throne joined them in the shade of the Lancer’s defensive wall.

“Is it true?” the queen asked.

“If we can trust General Kinya’s words.” Ben pointed toward the breached wall. “He said the emperor would like to meet with us to discuss the Lamentations.”

The queen’s perpetual frown deepened. “I’ll send a messenger to the Remulans. We will need independent confirmation.”

Louisa asked, “How will you achieve that?”

“Once we work out the details with them, I will dispatch a wing of wind singers to see for themselves.” The queen rubbed her chin between two fingers. “Did he say where the reapers were?”

Ben shook his head. “No. He didn’t give any details. Just said that the Lamentations have begun.”

Queen Nabra turned to the prince. “Make sure the messenger knows to gather as much information about the ripvor as the Remulans are willing to share.”

With a nod, Prince Tambal said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Louisa considered the perils of such a meeting before saying, “If it’s true, where will we hold the parlay? I don’t trust them.”

“I agree with you. We will gather in the field between the city wall and the Remulan forts.” The queen pointed to the babiakhom behind her. “In situations like this, each side sends a wind singer to the other’s camp. The wind singers stay in constant contact with their side as the two parties come together. That way, they can’t send a dummy and then bombard the meeting point.”

“We must keep our guard up until we receive confirmation.” Ben waved Jeevan over from where he spoke to Lance Duffadar Ram.

While she watched him, Louisa wondered how long she could delay telling Ben that she had figured out how to power the Seba. That there had been a way home before the battle began.

The one-time squadron leading duffadar, now a general in charge of a battalion of the 1^st Kerman Rifles, jogged over to Ben. The duffadar’s always smiling face was ashen. “What do you need, Captain Ben?”

“Rotate the men for rest, four hours on and four off.” Ben put his hand on Jeevan’s shoulder. “There’s something wrong. What is it?”

The duffadar took a deep breath, and his voice cracked. “We lost Sowar Singh.”

__________________________

As the Kerman contingent left the Lancer’s wall, Ben gathered Louisa, Jeevan, and Abu for a private meeting. In Louisa’s eyes, he found uncertainty instead of her usual confident intensity. He hadn’t yet been able to follow up on his concussed admission of love to have an actual conversation with her.

Given the circumstances, such a discussion would need to wait until tonight. Ben’s responsibilities to the troops preceded his feelings for Louisa.

But damn, how can she be so beautiful?

Cheeks covered in layers of black powder. Forehead smudged with dirt, and her hair’s tight bun a half-untangled mess. During Ben’s inspection, their eyes locked, and an emotion he swore he’d never feel again threatened to make him forget all the rest. Ben forced himself to turn his gaze away.

Jeevan’s expectant face brought back the reality of the situation. As he started to speak, an agitated Abu jogged up.

On the verge of tears, Abu asked, “Dr. Ben, is Gian dead?”

“I’m sorry, Abu.”

Ben didn’t get to finish as his son bent over, putting his hands on his knees. Jeevan stooped beside Abu and put his arm over Abu’s drooped shoulders, which jerked up and down with each shattered heave. “Singh was a good soldier. We will miss him, but he wouldn’t want us to grieve while there is more to do.”

Abu went to a squat, trying to compose himself. He spoke between big gulps of air. “How did it happen?”

“He was up top, helping clear the wall of Remulans when the enemy artillery struck,” Jeevan reported with tight lips.

Ben’s heart ached, wishing to relieve Abu’s pain, but he hesitated. If they were to survive–– if Abu were to survive, he would need to become hardened against trials like today.

Abu bit his lip. “I’m all right.” With sluggish movements, he came to his feet and wiped his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

Ben patted his son’s arm and nodded, then turned to the group. “Let’s discuss what comes next.” His voice grew grim. “Our situation seemed bleak this morning, but we had hope. If the Remulans are telling the truth, we’ve gone from having a puncher’s chance to facing impossible odds.”

His eyes drifted down, watching the toe of his boot scratch at the ground while he tried to find the resolve to make the only natural choice open to them. Finish the fight. He lifted his head and looked at each of them in turn. “There are only two choices. We fight or run for it and let the Kermans face the ripvor alone.”

From the corner of his eye, Ben saw a red-faced Abu give Louisa an accusing glare. She shook her head. The boy’s face grew more stern, resolute even.

Louisa gulped and raised a reluctant hand. “We have another option.” She hesitated.

Abu growled. “Tell them.”

“When I was in the facility under the waterfall, I powered the Seba.”

“What?” Ben and Jeevan exclaimed.

Jeevan’s face twisted in rage. “Why the hell did you not tell us?”

With pleading eyes that appeared full of remorse, Louisa said, “I wasn’t positive that it worked until right before the battle began.”

“This is outrageous.” Jeevan, his eyes on fire, fell silent, jaws clenching as he tried to gain control of his emotions.

Stunned, Ben couldn’t make sense of what he heard. We could have gone home. Why would she hide that from us?

Memories of Louisa’s conversation about staying on Aaru if they found a way home rushed back like a slap across the face. His thoughts stumbled over this one fact. She never plans on leaving.

“She’s telling the truth. At least, about finding out that the Seba was charged.”

Ben and Jeevan looked at the teenager.

Abu sounded like all the fight had left him when he said, “Doesn’t excuse Miss Louisa for not telling us she suspected she had done it. At least we would have had a choice to fight or not. Gian might still be alive.”

Louisa looked betrayed, and instead of asking for forgiveness, she stiffened her shoulders and glared at Ben and Jeevan. “Would you have run away? Could you live with yourselves knowing the Remulans were going to kill or enslave everyone in this city?” She punctuated that question with an icy stare, challenging the men’s courage.

Jeevan jabbed a finger at Louisa and snarled, “Your excuses mean nothing. What you did is unforgivable.” With an angry growl, he turned and stomped away.

Louisa recoiled from the rebuke and looked to Ben with scared eyes.

Ben expected to be enraged at Louisa but found only the foul taste of utter disappointment.

This is who she is. I can’t love a woman I can’t trust. Flashes of the man he became after Nannie’s betrayal made him question his sanity, but he couldn’t help but think, God help me, but I already do. I love this woman. But can I accept and love these broken parts of her?

Not if he could not trust her. He could not let her lie go unaddressed. He would need to have a private discussion about that, but right now, he needed to focus on their survival.

“We’ll deal with your,” Ben paused to regain control from the anger rising while he looked at her remorseful face. “Lies. We’ll deal with your lies at home.” He pointed toward the direction of the campus. “In fact, you should go and wait there.”

Shock, then anger, replaced the contrition on her face.

Ben put his back to Louisa and asked Abu, “What did you do to confirm that it’s powered?”

Louisa sputtered out, “I am not a child. You cannot dismiss me.”

The young man swung a finger toward Louisa and then back to himself. “We figured out you needed to ask the Seba for help.”

Ben’s lips tightened. “I asked you how you figured it out?”

Abu glanced to Ben’s side and swallowed before he said, “Yes. We laid the Seba out in the correct pattern, and then I said, ‘Squawk, Squawk,’ and the Ancients’ symbols floated in the air above the Seba. Each word showed different settings.”

“Like what?” Ben asked.

Louisa rushed to answer. “One lets you decide where you would go on Earth.”

Ben held his hand up and did not look back at her. “I didn’t ask you. Continue, Abu.”

Abu’s eyes went wide.

Louisa scoffed, “Like you’ve never done anything wrong.” She snorted. “Dr. Perfect, you are a kólos.”

She brushed past Ben, elbowing his arm as she stormed off.

Ben watched her stiff back for several seconds before he returned his attention to Abu.

A miniature grin turned up the corner of his son’s mouth. “First fight?”

Ben’s eyebrows scrunched as he recalled his and Louisa’s first argument. Then he remembered how that contentious meal in Cairo had ended with Abu kissing the young hostess in the alley behind the restaurant. Ben chuckled. “Nope. It’s not even the first time she’s called me an asshole. Tell me about the Seba.”

Abu laughed as he shook his head, and then the scholar part of Abu took over. “You can choose any place where the Seba was activated. Places like Denmark, Japan, and others in the Ottoman Empire. We think it will work the opposite way as well. We can pick where to come back to on Aaru. That means if we go to Earth from here, we can return to Kerma instead of the Fields of Eisodos.”

“Alright, anything else?”

“You can also set the size of the area that is scooped up.” Abu held up his hands about six inches apart, and the gap changed with his words. “There is a large, medium, and small option. The size of the travel dome also changes how many times you can travel back and forth.”

“Show me when we return to campus. No, do it tomorrow.” Ben frowned. “I need to find out if the Lancers will help fight the reapers or want to go home.”

__________________________

Who the hell does that kópanos think he is? Louisa continued pacing with her hands behind her back. She understood Jeevan’s anger. He had just lost one of his own. But Ben confessed his undying love for her just hours before, and now, he treated her like a child. She made another turn. Should I have told the truth? Probably, but if he loves me, shouldn’t he forgive me?

Why was this man so damn aggravating? Why did his disappointment affect her like this? Louisa’s mind raced. Her irritation grew with each turn. At a breaking point, she said out loud. “I don’t need him. I don’t need any man and will tell him as much.”

The front door opened. She spun, ready to raise hell, and stopped short. An exhausted Abu came in first. He gave her a weary smile and headed for the stairs.

The target of her anger came behind the young man, looking just as tired.

“Hold up, Abu. We need to have a quick meeting,” Ben said.

Not able to hide the anger in her voice, Louisa said, “Yes. Yes, we do.”

Abu shook his head. “You don’t need me for this.”

Ben’s eyes flared. “This won’t take long.” He carried his stern gaze to Louisa and began tapping his boot against the wooden floor.

Is he going to make me say it twice? Louisa seethed inside. She pulled back her shoulders and clenched her fists. “I’ve already apologized.”

“No. You didn’t.” Ben threw at her.

Louisa’s head snapped back, and her eyes rose to the side. Didn’t I? She replayed the moments after the battle when Abu made her tell them the secret. At no time did she say sorry. As much as it irked her, she dampened the flames of her irritation. I’ll apologize, then let him know how much he messed up.

She returned her gaze to Ben, locked eyes with him, and gave a clipped reply. “I guess I didn’t.” She pursed her lips, and her face softened, trying to find an approximation of conciliation. “I’m very sorry for not telling you.” Louisa’s eyes searched Ben’s face, and when she didn’t find what she sought, she added, “I messed up. I know it.”

“And?” Ben’s face hadn’t changed a bit.

Her brows furrowed, the anger returning to her voice. “And what?”

Even drained, Abu chuckled. “You’re terrible at this.”

Confused, Louisa tilted her head toward the young man.

“Apologies. You stink at them.” Abu shook his head. “You are supposed to say that it won’t happen again.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?” She shrugged. How do I say it won’t happen again while keeping my options open? She turned back to Ben, trying to put as much sincerity as possible into her words. “Nothing like this will happen again.”

With an exasperated sigh, Ben said, “Let’s get this straight so we don’t have to revisit this conversation.” Ben’s eyes flashed to Abu, including him in his following words. “If you can’t tell your fam.” He cut off, a panicked look coming over his face.

Abu’s startled expressions matched her own uneasiness at the half-word.

Family, Louisa thought. That’s a stretch. I don’t even like you right now. But did she love him? And did he really see her that way? Did he want to create a family with her? Is he thinking about marriage?

Louisa shuddered and held up a hand. “You might need an ox for that cart.”

Ben set his shoulders and said, “What I meant to say is that if you can’t tell your friends the truth, who can you tell?”

Louisa narrowed her eyes at Ben. “Friends. Is that what we are now?”

The air went out of Ben, but then his eyes turned icy blue. “What we are is up to you.”

Very confused, Louisa thought, What does that mean?

Ben meant it. If they were to become a family, continue courting, or go their separate ways, the decision belonged to Louisa. It didn’t surprise him that his thoughts did not include friendship, even if it was the word he used out loud. They would go forward, or they would go nowhere.

This last betrayal of his trust hit his most vulnerable place. Every instinct told Ben to close himself off. To protect his heart. He never wanted to become that man again. Only his faith kept him from pushing her away. In asking for the Lord’s help in winning Louisa’s heart, Ben committed himself to the possibility of immeasurable pain. As hurt as he was now, he was still willing. He needed her to understand the stakes.

Full of anger and hurt, Ben’s body stiffened. “I will not be made a fool of. Moving forward, you will tell me the truth no matter the situation. Or whatever this is.” He waved his hand between them. “Is over.”

Louisa bit her lower lip. She’d never seen so much anguish in Ben’s eyes. It made her heart ache. That kind of pain could only come from a profound loss. He wasn’t telling her something. Something in his past. Some other woman?

The thought of Ben loving another woman raised the hairs on her neck in annoyance. Part of her needed to know that part of his life. Another part of her wanted to never know. She pushed all that aside, needing to lessen his agony.

Louisa stepped toward him, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Ben. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Ben’s eyes darted from one of her eyes to the next, trying to divine the truth in the depths of chocolate brown. “But you knew you were going to. Didn’t you? You decided that what you wanted was more important than hurting me. Hurting everyone.”

Louisa’s face fell. “I wasn’t ready to go home, and I was almost certain that none of you would have abandoned this city to the Remulans. But you’re right. I didn’t trust you enough. What I did was selfish.”

Ben hesitated, afraid of her answer, then asked, “Have you ever trusted anyone enough, loved anyone enough to put them first?”

Louisa smiled. “I don’t have many friends, but for the.” She paused and stepped right up to Ben, touching a hand to his heart. “For the friends I love, no one is more loyal than me.”

Abu shuffled his feet.

Ben said, “Am I one of those friends?”

Louisa’s chin dipped in almost imperceptible affirmation.

Ben added granite to his voice. “Prove it.”

“I will,” came her breathy reply.

Abu cleared his throat.

Her cheeks flushed, and Louisa stepped back, removing her hand from Ben. “I deserved that. But I also need you to understand something.”

Ben shook out the tension in his shoulders and leaned toward her.

Louisa’s soprano voice came out low and menacing. “Friends respect one another. If you have a problem with me, be man enough to confront me, yell at me if you must, but never dismiss me like that again.”

Ben took a sharp breath. “If that’s how you prefer it.” His eyes shifted to light upon Abu. “And you?”

Abu pointed to his chest.

Ben nodded. “You didn’t hide it long, but you had the opportunity to tell me before the battle.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Ben. I should have said something, but I thought Mrs. Louisa was correct. Telling you and Duffadar Nahal about having a way home right before the battle would have been a distraction.”

“Don’t care. I need the truth to make the best decisions. No matter how inconvenient the timing. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Abu said.

Louisa interjected, “I need a bath in the worst way. I’ll see you, gentlemen, in the morning.” She moved up the stairs.

When she turned the corner on the landing, Abu asked, “Did you mean it? Do you think we can become a family? The three of us?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I would have said yes before I found out about this lie. Now, I don’t know. I can’t go through that again.” His voice trailed off for a second. “I hope we can overcome this. We’ve gone through a lot together and need each other to overcome the challenges ahead.”

Abu let the words sink in, then asked, “Do you think Miss Louisa will ever be ready to be part of a family?”

Ben’s scar tugged half his grin off-kilter. “While she decides, I guarantee we won’t suffer from boredom.”

Abu raised a hesitant hand. “I’m not sure I can take too much more excitement.”

Ben nudged Abu with an elbow. “When I think she can’t astound me more, good or bad, she proves me wrong.”

“And when she disappoints you again?” Abu tilted his head at Ben.

Ben gave him a rueful smile. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Abu’s lips pulled tight. “And in this case, a third and fourth one too.” He chuckled.

Ben laughed along with him.

Growing sincere, Abu said, “Good luck, Dr. Ben. I’ll pray for both of you.”

__________________________

“Hem-netjer Rashida, you asked to see me?” Ali gave a half bow to the humongous hysakas priest behind the double-sized desk.

“Keeper Mousa.” The wolf rumbled. “I am impressed. Your plan to manipulate the thieves into building weapons. Ingenious. It might overcome your failure to keep the Seba safe.”

Ali wasn’t sure how to respond to the high priest’s backhanded compliment. He chose to ignore it and dive into the plan’s flaws. “If they refuse to make bullets or if Dr. McGehee dies, the weapons will soon become useless.”

The wolf scratched behind his head with a clawed finger as he digested Ali’s words. “Then you must make sure that doesn’t happen.” The hysakas pushed away from the desk, stood, and walked around the table to tower over Ali. “Can you not make the bullets?”

With his head craned back to look the priest in the eye, Ali replied, “If we had enough time, maybe. I will continue trying to learn the processes, but the thieves do not trust me.”

As any human might do, the hysakas leaned against the desk. Then more dog-like, his head jerked down as he bit-chewed at some itch on his hairy arm before saying, “Ignoring the gun issue, what other advancement can you provide to help against the ripvor?”

Caught off guard by the question, Ali did not respond for several moments. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Still formulating his response, Ali said, “It never occurred to me. I was so busy trying to get Dr. Ben to build guns that I didn’t stop to think about what I could have contributed.”

“Take some time to do so. With what is coming, even a small advantage might make the difference between survival and extinction.” The wolf’s snout bobbed up and down. “Tell me what you need.”

Energized by having a purpose, Ali’s words were enthusiastic, “I will. Thank you, Hem-netjer Rashida. I won’t let you down.”

As he walked away, hundreds of mental tumblers fell into place in Ali’s mind. A new future for Aaru opened before him as he thought of all the technological possibilities. He would focus first on military advancements to save them. Then, he would turn his attention to transforming his new world.

Chapter 3

Yuhi, Taru, An 5660, Day 67

Hundreds of flaccid, square sails fluttered to life, then puffed full as each ship’s compliment of wind singers added their magic to dwarven-powered oars. Like an armada of floating centipedes, the Sygnafylki fleet churned up the blue-green waters off the gentle slopes of Maan Alu’s coastline. Hojo Sadayuki, the 17^th Shogun of Yuhi, stored away that image of his homeland, unsure if it would be his last.

No looking back, he thought as he turned away from the spectacle to stare over the bow of the lead ship toward the way forward—a vast, empty ocean.

As soon as he read the message from Yuhi’s ambassador to Kerma, Sadayuki began to prepare. The grandchild he’d thought lost along with his precious daughter had been found and then lost again. And to that welp of a Remulan emperor, no less.

The shogun vowed to retrieve the princess or make the Remulans pay for their greed with blood. The might of Yuhi and her dwarven allies rallied to his call. So many came that he had to send all but the best away. Had there been enough ships, he could have burned Remus itself. Instead, he brought enough to bludgeon the emperor but insufficient numbers to defeat him. He hoped it would not come to that, but Sadayuki had prepared his entire life to pay any sacrifice for his family's honor.

His ability to picture his third daughter’s face had become murkier with each passing year, and he wondered at the eight-year-old Masako’s appearance. Does she look like Yoshitoki?

King Hrafn Ytra, the leader of the Sygnafylki, stepped beside him. “Sadayuki. What do you give the odds of this coming to blows?”

The Shogun didn’t rush to answer and contemplated the question in earnest. A decade ago, he had met Octavius’s father and found the man reasonable. Somehow, the old emperor kept those fanatics from succumbing to their militaristic urges. Then again, he considered Aquila.

Ambitious and unscrupulous. That’s how Sadayuki had described the former emperor’s right-hand man at the time. Keeping such a schemer as his primary advisor showed poor judgment on Octavius’s part.

With a sigh, the shogun gave the logical conclusion to his ruminations. “We face an inexperienced ruler who takes advice from vipers, so the odds are good.”

The old dwarf’s protruding belly shook, his rumbling glee bringing a smile to the shogun’s lips. When the laughter subsided, the two-hundred-An old boulder of a man said, “Only an idiot would take the Shogun’s granddaughter hostage. Then again, I also heard Emperor Octavius is a shrewd strategist.”

“I will not underestimate the man or his legions, but even monkeys fall from trees.” Sadayuki put his hands on the railing and leaned into the wind, the cold spray wetting his face.

“Old friend, as much as I want you to get the girl back, I want to fight more.” The dwarf’s low-bass voice cut through the lapping waves and the drum beat that kept cadence for the rowers.

The Shogun faced the dwarf. “Seeking Valhalla?”

King Ytra nodded. “If Oden blesses me so. Soon, I will be too old to hold a sword.”

The Shogun chuckled. “Then, may Susanoo no Mikoto allow our journey to be swift. I wouldn’t want to keep you from a glorious death.”

“Hah! Keep your god of storms away from my fleet.”

“That’s what I just said.” The Shogun shook his head. As much as the Sygnafylki had adopted many Nipponese traditions, they stayed true to their original religion.

“Ah. The next three weeks can’t pass fast enough. At least one of us will be happy when we reach Kemet.” the dwarven king said.

Sadayuki closed his eyes, savoring the bracing sting of water lashing his cheeks, and said, “Tomorrow’s winds will blow tomorrow.”

The picture above was taken by Francis Frith and Co. sometime in the 1860s-1870s. The port city would have looked like this for Louisa and the Clan of the Dissipated when they arrived by ship.

See the red circle in the picture? That’s the small penthouse apartment that my wife and I stayed in during the Porto portion of our April 2022 tour of Portugal. Below is a picture I took of the same scene 150 years after the first.

Here is a view from that balcony going in the other direction. If you want to book that apartment, here is the link: PortoSense Ribeira. It is the perfect spot for two to experience the city’s unique history.

During our stay, Ranger Football Club fans from Scotland took over the square and sang their drunken songs for two days and nights. If anything, it added even more charm to the view.

As you can see, not much has changed in a city I would describe as well-worn, hard-working, and full of hidden gems. In Louisa Sophia and a Legion of Sisters, most of the Porto scenes in the book take place inside Bolsa Palace. Don’t let the outside of the building fool you; this is a must-visit on any Porto itinerary.

In chapter 15, Louisa and her friends attend a dance in the palace’s grand ballroom. During that ball, Louisa experiences the most traumatizing event of her life while visiting the most fantastic room this author has ever stepped foot in, and later she meets Gustave Eiffel.

Unfortunately, the day we visited the palace, the ballroom was serving as an exhibit hall, so many of my descriptions of the room in the book came from online pictures.

But the real jewel in any visit to Bolsa Palace is the Arab Room. In 1874, the room would be only partially finished. I describe it as if the back half of the room were complete while the rest was partially done or unfinished.

See the backlit door on the left? My research discovered most of those doors lead to closet-like rooms with lights or, in the case of the book, lamps. Louisa was fooled into thinking that each door led out of the room. She tried in vain to escape out one set of those doors.

This second photo shows the detail of one of the columns, and you can see the intricate design on the wall behind it. It is absolutely stunning. That it took a decade to complete the room is understandable.

Gustave Eiffel, yes, the architect who designed the tower in Paris, has a cameo appearance in chapters 17 and 18. During our guided tour of the palace, they showed us his office on the 2nd floor. This is a detail that I doubt I would have found without visiting the location in person.

Mr. Eiffel worked there while designing the Maria Pia Bridge across the Douro River. If you are an Eiffel aficionado, you might tell me that he did not office in Porto until 1876, and you would be correct. I fudged his appearance in the book by two years. I just couldn’t pass up the chance to add him to the story.

In Chapter 17 - Waltz of the Djinn, Gustave plays a small but pivotal role in the aftermath of what was for both the story’s heroine and the author who wrote the chapter a traumatic event.

It was the most emotionally difficult chapter I have ever written. I hope it does not bring up old wounds for anyone reading it but inspires women to act like Louisa. To resist and, when necessary, fight back against sexual assault predators like the book’s villain, João Lopes Gomes.

Last, I will leave with my very favorite Porto travel tip.

That’s a different João, the host of CHAMA, and me after too much wine and bagaceira, the Portuguese version of grappa. CHAMA is the best restaurant in Porto and possibly my favorite restaurant in the world.

Despite enjoying the fruits of my obsession, my wife doesn’t always appreciate that I’m a foodie. But I’m not one of those Michelin star food snobs. No, everywhere I go, I am looking for the trifecta.

1. Great-tasting food made with quality ingredients.

2. An incredible experience.

3. And finally, an affordable price.

CHAMA serves farm-to-table tapas, based on a set menu that changes every night. They only have about 20 seats, and tables are set close together. With João as emcee, we befriended the couples nearest us while enjoying 8-10 small courses over the three-hour meal.

Have I loved the food more in other places? Yes, but not by much. Have I experienced a local culture to a greater extent somewhere else? Probably. But I have never walked out of a 5-star experience in food, friends, and atmosphere while only paying such a paltry sum.

It was so wonderful that I asked João to work us in for a second night during our stay, but don’t try to wing it. Book well in advance. Click the link to their website and email them your travel dates.

I wish I could clone CHAMA, but it really is one of a kind.

I’m a little obsessive about the history I incorporate into my books, but I’m not that obsessive. Absent a time machine, there are things you will not be able to find out about people, places, and, in this case, a ship, but I try to make it so that the experiences my characters have are possible no matter how improbable.

Thus, I spent a lot of time looking for a passenger ship that might have sailed from La Havre to the United States in 1874. That ship turned out to be the Lafayette. Christened in 1863 as a paddle-wheel steamship, the boat was converted to screw drive engines in 1868. After many years on a different route, in May of 1874, she resumed Havre - Brest - New York sailings and made three round voyages, the last starting on 12th Feb.1876.

This was perfect as the tour would have been traveling during the summer break 1874. Possibly even the end of May. The only fictional change I made to the history of this ship was adding a slight detour to Porto before continuing to New York.

If you have read the chapters, the scenes discuss or occur in different parts of the ship. Louisa even climbed one of the vessel’s masts, but the most exciting area to write about was the fancy interior of the ship. Here is where my research came up short. I could not find any photos of the interior of the 1870s version of the boat.

I did find some great pictures taken in 1915 of the ship’s replacement by the same name. I ended up using these as the inspiration for the scenes.

Undoubtedly, the first Lafayette, forty years younger than the images you see, would not have been up to the same level of luxury. I took this license with the story to enhance the descriptive details of the scenes.

One thing I could not change on a whim was the toilets. I once again dove into the past to ensure that the original ship would have installed flush toilets by 1974. You are thinking: Why? Why does this guy do so much bathroom research? What’s his problem?

Maybe it’s because one of my greatest anxieties is running out of toilet paper (but doesn’t everyone have that phobia?). Still, in reality, it’s because I’m writing about a period when that technology was brand spanking new, and it was adopted slowly, causing the terminology to be in flux.

My favorite room, which is mentioned in passing in Chapter 12, is the ship’s puppet theater, seen below.

Shipboard entertainment has come a long way since then, but at the time, this was an ingenious distraction for the children enduring the long transatlantic journey.

As captain of the SS Louisa Sophia Adventures, I hope you have enjoyed this little history tour of chapters 12 and 13. If you want to keep learning more, make sure to subscribe.

Now, back to our yummy research. In this scene, I wanted Louisa to buy gifts for herself and for her friends to help better define the girls’ different personalities. That Louisa used the ten Francs she pocketed while performing her Robin Hood-like heist in the last chapter was, well, so her. On a side note, if you have read any of the Lamentations and Magic series, you might have also picked up on her buying a lemon and lavender perfume, a scent often referenced in the series.

In addition to her friends, I needed Louisa to gift herself something both French and sharable. I immediately thought of candy and went on the hunt. Finding one of the oldest continuously operating confectioners in France took me a little research. Since 1827, Maison Boissier has been wowing its customers with beautiful, tasty treats that are expensive. Today, a small tin of the little hard candies runs about $20.

For Eugénie’s gift, I desired to display her introspective side and thought that making her an artist would be a good touch. It also reinforced the curriculum at Saint-Denis, where all the girls are required to take art, sculpture, and music. Thus, I set out to have Louisa find Eugénie some drawing pencils.

To include this simple item in the book, one needs to make sure of three things.

1. Were colored drawing pencils even invented in 1874?

2. Were they available in France?

3. How much would they cost?

The Staedtler Pencil company was around off and on for over a hundred years before the founder’s great-grandson invented the colored pencil. Staedtler was a German company, which made it probable that the art supplies were available in France. Pricing of the colored pencils remained elusive, so I decided that eight colored pencils costing two Francs would be an expensive gift since they represented a dock laborer’s daily wage. With this compromise to accuracy, I moved forward with gusto.

You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence, for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It is not merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating his omelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. — Brigadier Etienne Gerard

Now, we get to the primary purpose of the chapter, which is to introduce Brigadier Etienne Gerard. If you are a Sherlock Holmes fan or an aficionado of Sir Author Conan Doyle, you might have heard of the French General, but maybe not. He was one of Doyle’s most successful characters outside the Holmes franchise. The link above will take you to a free version of a compilation of his stories. As a former soldier in Napoleon’s Grand Army, the brigadier recounts his exploits, which invariably show him to be a pompous, womanizing braggart whose bravery outweighs his intelligence.

While researching the Louisa Sophia and a Legion of Sisters, I looked into French adventure books written during the timeframe. I was seeking a famous French book or character that I could reference to add a little bit of French-only history. Instead of a French book, I found the renowned British author poking fun at the French through the brigadier.

After reading a couple of his short stories, I knew I needed to include the now public domain character— Brigadier Gerard — in my book. I did make one significant change for my Etienne. Given when the book takes place, he could not have served under Napoleon I, and instead he served during the reign of Napoleon III.

I think you may enjoy the character arc of Brigadier Gerard, and I hope that Sir Author Conan Doyle gets a nice chuckle at his French foil’s newest adventure.

In the chapter, Sunny Above, Cloudy Below, Louisa discovers an injustice being done on the river barge the Last Chance Tour participants use to travel from Paris to the port of Le Harve. The three deck hands on the barge are playing a dice game, and one of the men is cheating.

Ethically challenged Louisa isn’t upset at the man’s transgression until she understands that one of the men cheated out of his money is intellectually disabled. Louisa might be a thief, but she has standards. She decides that she and the Clan of the Dissipated must right this wrong.

You might think to yourself; it doesn’t sound like there would be much history in such a black-and-white scene, but au contraire. For this simple Texan, there were two significant challenges. First, I needed to understand everything about French francs as they related to the scene.

What did they call a dime or a penny? A quick Google search educated me on the décime and the centime, but what were those worth in 1874? And how much did a barge worker make back then?

This information took a while longer to find, but I discovered some great information with the help of a useful resource hosted by the University of Missouri. They have links to US government reports that cover several hundred years. These scanned documents contain information on daily labor wages from many countries and for a plethora of occupations.

It took a little digging to find a French reference to an occupation related to barge workers. The closest I could find was an 1871 reference from France showing dock hands making the equivalent of $0.97 a day.

How many francs is that?

If you use the price of gold in francs and dollars in 1874, you can calculate a rate of 5.5 francs per dollar, but I just rounded that up to 6 francs per dollar.

Using all my gathered info and estimations, a barge worker in my book makes $30 a month or 180 French francs. To put that living wage into context, in 1871 Paris, a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread cost a 1/2 franc each while a kilo of top quality beef cost 2 francs.

Once I understood the value of the French franc, I moved on to the other hole in my knowledge. What gambling game did they play back then?

I’ve only been to Vegas a handful of times, and my favorite game is craps. Every time I think about gambling on the streets, I envision some guys squatting toadlike and tossing dice. In 1874, craps hadn’t quite come into its own, but its predecessor, Hazard, was well understood.

You can read the link to understand the game’s rules. If you do, I bet you’ll see the similarities and how Hazard inspired the modern game. After hours of research, my characters were finally ready to place realistic bets and for the scene to make sense.

Given the length of this article, you might have already realized that it took me as long to research as it did to write the chapter. And that is the plight and pleasure of the historical fiction author.

Born Feb, 20, 1845

Birthplace Fanon County, Texas

Parents

Father - James Moore McGehee

Mother - Agnes McCubbin

Education

• Homeschooled by his medical doctor/surgeon father until age seventeen. Taught to read Ancient Greek and Latin.

• Attended the University of Georgia from 1865 - 1868, receiving a Bachelor of Science in Civil Engineering.

• Attended University of North Carolina from 1868-1870 and received a Bachelor of Arts.

• ​Moved to London, England, and attended the Imperial College of Medicine from 1870 - to 1873, receiving a Medical Doctor degree while also attending University College London to receive a Master of Philosophy.​

Favorite Quote

For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of victories - Plato

Favorite Sayings

God's able if I/you/we are willing.

Favorite Weapon

Winchester 1873 .44-40 carbine, named Agnes.

More Research Notes About Ben

When creating Ben’s historical background, I cheated a smidge by using some of my ancestorial history. My fourth great-grandfather, James Moore Cowdrey, was a surgeon in the Civil War. He was married to Agnes McCubbin, and at least three of his sons fought in the war.

I fictionalized most of his other family details.

That said, I conducted extensive research to ensure a living person could have accomplished those details during the time in question. For example, all the schools listed above, offered Ben’s actual degrees. For example, Georgia offered a civil engineering degree in 1868.

My need to make sure the real history matches my imagined story is a bit obsessive, but filling in these little details for my characters has led me to heaps of rich material.

Who was the physical inspiration for Ben?

I tried to use the picture of a soldier from the Civil War. He was quite a handsome fellow, but the sketch based on him didn’t feel right and I ended up using this guy. At least he is a fellow Texan.