Rachel’s expression was one of both fear and defiance of this monster who claimed her as his bride. Her face first seemed to brighten as she saw Gribardsun, but that light faded and her shoulders sagged as the realization of what was about to happen hit home.
Lynd peered up at the prisoners but said nothing. Instead he gestured toward their escorts, who reached behind and drew their broadswords from the scabbards strapped across their backs. After handing their swords to the prisoners, the guards turned and marched to opposite ends of the clearing to stand with their comrades.
Rising from his chair, Lynd took a step forward and addressed the prisoners. “Soon enough, the gods will feast upon both your souls,” he said softly, before stepping back again and holding one arm up over his head. Looking around at his followers, Lynd announced loudly, “Let the battle begin!”
He dropped his arm, and Gribardsun barely managed to sidestep the blow as his opponent brought up his sword and swung it down at Gribardsun’s skull. He swung again, and Gribardsun parried and caught the blade upon his own. He stuck one leg out, causing the other to stumble and drop down to one knee. At first the fall seemed to have little effect as he and Gribardsun exchanged blows, sparks flying as their swords crashed repeatedly against one another. Because of his greater height, the kneeling alien stood eye to eye with Gribardsun; it was only due to his own extraordinary strength and prowess—the product of his unique upbringing and a lifetime of experience—that Gribardsun was able to hold his own in the face of such a formidable adversary.
Eventually, Gribardsun managed to press a slight advantage, pushing his crouching rival further backward as he held his blade against the other. Then Gribardsun’s blade slid up toward the tip of the other sword. His opponent used the shift in weight to drop below Gribardsun’s sword and roll to one side, his elbow striking the back of Gribardsun’s knee. The action knocked Gribardsun off balance, allowing his adversary to jump back to his feet and assume an offensive stance. Gribardsun whirled and quickly brought his blade up to meet the other at mid-swing.
For several minutes they battled back and forth, and Gribardsun thought he saw remorse in the other’s expression. “I have no wish to kill you,” the alien warrior told him.
“That is good,” Gribardsun answered as they continued exchanging blows, “for I do not plan to die.” He brought his sword up over his head and swung down, only to have the blow parried again.
“You do not understand,” the warrior said. “We will both die this day.”
“Perhaps,” Gribardsun conceded. “But if it is to be, let it not be at the whim of one such as Teran Lynd.” He took a step backward and lowered his sword. “I have no fight with you,” he said. Then he threw down his sword, turned and began to walk back toward where Lynd was sitting.
His opponent stood there for a moment, unsure how to react, and a roar of disapproval swept through the group of spectators. Lynd leaned forward in his chair and frowned. “It would seem that your champion is a coward after all,” he told Rachel, who merely closed her eyes in despair but said nothing.
Gribardsun had taken nine or ten steps when he suddenly stopped and gazed forward, his eyes locked on Lynd’s. For a moment the corners of Gribardsun’s mouth pulled up into just the slightest trace of a smile. He took one step backward and broke into a sprint, leaping forward and knocking Lynd out of his chair. Rachel and the other women managed to jump aside just before impact. Lynd fell to the ground and was knocked unconscious when his head struck a rock. Gribardsun quickly jumped to his feet and found himself facing the two guards who had been at Lynd’s side, both of whom darted forward with daggers drawn to protect their leader.
But Gribardsun was too fast for them. He grabbed one guard’s wrist and swung him around, forcing his dagger deep into the chest of the other. As the second guard fell dead Gribardsun twisted the first’s arm behind his back, breaking the limb in the process and pushing him to the ground. Gribardsun then spun round and retrieved the dagger from the other guard’s chest, taking time to also grab both the guard’s firearm and the keys.
Gribardsun rose and fired the weapon in the direction of the warriors who had been watching the fight, felling four of them in rapid succession. In the ensuing confusion the other warriors drew their own guns, but because of their close proximity to one another they were unable to return fire without the risk of hitting their own comrades. Several of them instead drew their daggers and rushed forward to battle Gribardsun hand to hand, but the time traveler fought with a ferocity none of them had anticipated.
Gribardsun drove his sword into the chest of one of the warriors, pulled it out and swung around to sever another opponent’s leg just above the knee. The wounded warrior toppled into the path of one of his comrades, knocking him off balance. Gribardsun seized the moment and sliced through the warrior’s torso, his sword moving upward from just above the right hip to the left shoulder.
The two halves of the body fell in opposite directions. A battle roar issued from the throat of a fourth warrior as he charged in Gribardsun’s direction. Gribardsun picked up the leg he had severed earlier and threw it at the charging combatant. The soldier dodged the detached limb but stumbled over part of the body that had been cleaved in two. He landed on his face and rolled over in time to see the tip of Gribardsun’s sword driving downward into his face.
In rapid succession Gribardsun dispatched three more warriors, two with his sword and the third with the gun as he dodged a death blow from that fighter’s blade. Gribardsun whirled round to face yet another opponent, but stopped short when he realized the latter was the warrior Lynd had forced him to fight. At his feet lay the soldier whose leg had been cut off, the sword Gribardsun had earlier tossed aside protruding from his chest. Without a word the warrior withdrew the sword and held it out toward Gribardsun. Shifting the gun to his other hand, Gribardsun took back the sword, and together the two of them continued battling against Lynd’s troops.
After running his sword through one of the warriors, Gribardsun turned and caught a glimpse of Rachel cowering by one of the nearby trees. He sprinted in her direction and she rushed forward to meet him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling herself close. “Are you all right?” he asked.
He could feel her nod. “I am now,” she said softly, and Gribardsun could tell that she was trying mightily not to cry. Rachel clung tightly to him for just a few seconds, then pulled away and looked at him. She smiled and started to say something more, but suddenly pulled away and screamed. Gribardsun whirled around in time to see one of Lynd’s warriors bring up one of those strange firearms and point it in their direction. The guard’s finger twitched on the trigger, but he did not fire; instead his eyes grew wide as the blade of a broadsword suddenly erupted from the center of his chest.
The guard dropped his gun and fell forward, dead. Behind him stood Gribardsun’s erstwhile opponent, who brought a hand up to his forehead in a gesture of salute. Gribardsun returned the gesture, and the warrior drew his sword from the body of his victim before turning to stand against more of his own kind.
Gribardsun turned back to Rachel. “Take these,” he said, handing her both the gun and the key. “Go release Robert and the others. Then you and he go with them back to their village.”
Rachel shook her head. “I won’t go without you,” she told him.
“Yes you will,” he answered, as he gave Rachel a gentle push in the direction of the captives. “I won’t be far behind, I promise.” As she darted away Gribardsun was waylaid from behind. Gribardsun and his opponent struggled as they rolled around in the dirt, until Gribardsun found himself with his back to the ground and a pair of massive hands around his throat. It was at that moment Gribardsun realized he was fighting Lynd, who had regained consciousness and was determined to rend Gribardsun limb from limb.
Placing his hands around Lynd’s wrists, Gribardsun pulled and finally managed to free himself from the large alien’s grip. He brought one knee up sharply into Lynd’s gu
t, then kicked Lynd up and over his head. As Lynd landed on his back with a thud, Gribardsun rose to his feet. Weakened slightly by the attempted strangulation, Gribardsun nonetheless rushed forward and brought the fight to Lynd again. As they fought, another of Lynd’s warriors rushed forward to join in the fray—but was prevented from doing so by Gribardsun’s newfound ally, who engaged the warrior as Gribardsun and Lynd continued to fight.
Following Gribardsun’s instructions, Rachel and von Billman worked to release the captive Magdalenians, who wasted little time fleeing the campsite. Rachel and von Billman followed behind them, von Billman pausing long enough to turn and fire a couple of shots to cover their escape before running off into the forest.
Angrily balling his massive hands into fists, Lynd swung at Gribardsun several times but failed to land a blow. Gribardsun punched Lynd in the gut, and as the alien fell forward from the force of the blow, Gribardsun brought his knee up into Lynd’s groin. Lynd fell to his knees and Gribardsun drew back his leg to kick him in the face. But Lynd recovered more quickly than Gribardsun expected, grabbing the time traveler’s leg and flipping him violently into the air. Rolling onto the ground in such a way as to avoid broken bones, Gribardsun quickly jumped up and charged his foe.
Lynd stopped that charge with a powerful swipe of his hand, his nails clawing across Gribardsun’s face in the process. The blow knocked Gribardsun aside and drew blood from the gouge marks across his cheek, but failed to knock him off his feet. He darted around and jumped onto the alien’s back, passing his arms under Lynd’s from behind and clamping his hands on the back of his opponent’s neck in a full nelson.
Gribardsun squeezed in an attempt to press the advantage, but Lynd started spinning around in order to break the Earthman’s hold on him. He finally managed to shake free of Gribardsun, who again tumbled to the ground. The alien was on him in an instant, and the pair rolled around back and forth in the dirt as they continued trading blows.
Eventually, Gribardsun managed to roll over on top of Lynd, at the same time retrieving the hunting knife that Lynd had taken from him. Gribardsun held the knife menacingly in front of Lynd’s face and said in a near-growl, “This belonged to my father.” Then he plunged the knife forward into Lynd’s throat. At almost the exact same moment, his ally dispatched the other warrior with a swing of his sword, severing the warrior’s head from his body. With one knee pressed upon his dead foe’s chest, Gribardsun threw back his head and raised his voice to the sky. The sound that issued forth was like the battle cry of a great beast, and the warrior who now stood beside him looked upon Gribardsun with an expression showing equal parts awe and respect.
“Truly you are a mighty warrior,” he said as Gribardsun rose to his feet, securing his reclaimed scabbard around his own waist.
“As are you,” Gribardsun answered, sliding his knife into the scabbard. “I am glad we fight side by side, rather than against one another.” He held out his hand in a gesture of friendship. The warrior clasped it firmly in his own as Gribardsun said, “My name is John.”
“I am Gar Duno,” the other responded. He was about to speak again when they both heard the sound of footfalls racing away from the camp. They looked up and saw three surviving members of Lynd’s squadron running after Rachel, von Billman and the natives. Gribardsun moved forward to give chase, but stopped as his companion placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Gar Duno quickly bent down and snatched another gun from the holster of one of his dead kinsmen. He stood back up and fired at the warriors, deliberately missing but drawing their attention from the fleeing natives. As the warriors turned and started running back in their direction, Gar snapped, “Quickly, we must go!”
The two raced into the forest, heading in the opposite direction from the path that Rachel and the others had taken. Although slightly fatigued from the battle, they continued running for roughly two miles and managed to put some space between them and their pursuers, who continued the chase despite losing ground. Gribardsun could still hear the warriors following them even though they were no longer in sight.
He and Gar slowed down to rest for a moment. Glancing around at their surroundings, Gar spied a natural path through the woods that veered around a large rock formation and back in the general direction they had come from. He pointed out the path to Gribardsun.
“Go this way,” Gar directed. “The natives’ village is about a day’s march from here. If I am right, you should rejoin your friends in less than half that time.”
“What about you?” Gribardsun queried.
In response Gar motioned back toward the warriors who were chasing them. “I’ll remain here long enough to draw them in the other direction, to allow you to make good your escape. I know this area better than they do. In time they will grow weary of the chase, and will return to our city.”
“Good idea,” Gribardsun said. “Once you’ve lost them you can make your way back and join us as well.”
Gar shook his head. “You and your friends may be strangers here, but the natives are your people,” he said. “I am an outcast among my people, but I doubt I would be accepted among yours.”
“I accept you,” Gribardsun told him. “That should be enough.”
“Perhaps, in time, it will be,” Gar answered with a shrug. “For now that should not concern you. When those warriors return home having lost Teran Lynd, most of his command, and a new group of slaves, the consequences will not be good for the natives. They will look to you for leadership—and protection. You must convince them to relocate, to find a place where they can be safe. Such a place may well not exist, but you must try. Teran Lynd merely intended to subjugate these people. After today it is unlikely that whoever succeeds him as the emperor’s emissary will be quite as merciful. I fear you have made a dangerous enemy today, my friend.”
“So it would seem,” Gribardsun acknowledged, recalling a lifetime of exploits that had led him to this moment in time—or, perhaps more appropriately under the circumstances, out of time. “I have made dangerous enemies before, and have lived to tell the tale,” he said. “If it is indeed my destiny to remain here among these people, I will do what I can to help them. If I must make war to do so, I shall.”
Gar smiled and clasped his hands upon Gribardsun’s shoulders. “If that day should come, I pray to my gods that Gar Duno is there to battle at your side again.” With that he glanced back in the direction they had come from. In the distance they could hear the pursuing warriors coming closer toward them. “Now go, friend John. Go!” Gribardsun nodded in silent thanks, then turned and began the trek to rejoin his comrades.
* * *
The afternoon sun was just preparing to make its descent when Gribardsun caught up with Rachel, von Billman and the Magdalenians. They had stopped to rest and were discussing the idea of making camp for the night when Rachel happened to look up and saw Gribardsun walking toward them. She stood up and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his muscular frame and hugging him close. She did not speak at first, but the tears she had fought back earlier finally spilled from her eyes.
Gribardsun held her for a moment, then gently released her and stepped back. “I’m sorry about Drummond,” he told her.
Rachel nodded in acknowledgment. “He was a good man,” she said. “We’d had our problems over the past year or so; I think he hoped being part of this project would bring us closer together. I guess we’ll never know...”
Just then von Billman came forward to join them. “Welcome back, John,” he said. As he shook Gribardsun’s hand a sad smile worked its way across his features. “I almost said ‘welcome home.’ I suppose that’s what it is now, isn’t it?”
Gribardsun nodded. “I suppose so,” he said. He told them of how he and Gar Duno had acted as decoys to help the others escape, of the flight into the jungle, and Gar’s admonition regarding the natives’ safety.
A mournful expression crossed Rachel’s face. “What’s to become of us?” she asked.
“We survive,” G
ribardsun answered simply. “With the timeship destroyed we cannot return; everything and everyone we left behind are lost to us. As much as it pains us, that is the reality we face. We can accept it and move forward, or give in to despair. The latter has never been an option in my life and I do not plan to make it one now.”
Rachel reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “In that case,” she said, hoping to exhibit a confidence she did not yet truly feel, “we face reality together.”
“Agreed,” von Billman stated. He turned to Gribardsun and asked, “So where do we begin?”
“By leading our new friends to safety, and doing what we can to help them remain free,” Gribardsun said. “Gar was correct when he warned that the slavers are bound to strike back. Simply returning these people to their village will not be enough to keep them out of harm’s way. We must do what we can to assist them: relocate the tribe, teach them to better protect themselves, whatever it takes.”
“But how much can we do, realistically?” Rachel inquired. “There are only the three of us. And any tools or equipment we might have put to use were lost when the ship was destroyed.”
“True,” Gribardsun admitted. “But we still have one very important weapon at our disposal, something that no one else here can lay claim to: millions of years’ worth of knowledge. The crew of the H. G. Wells I was selected in part because we represented the top minds of our era. What better way to put that talent to use? And in the process, perhaps we can find the answers to the questions we’ve found ourselves faced with. To start with: where are we? I’m not completely convinced we arrived at our planned destination. We all felt something not quite right occurred in transit. But what happened, and why?
“Then there is the matter of the slavers. I agree with your assessment, Robert, that they have come here from some other planet. But from where? And why? And if this is truly 12,000 B.C., how does a band of invading aliens speak an Earth language that will not exist for thousands of years? Our survival—and that of our hosts—could well depend upon the answers.”