Chapter Sixty-seven        

K ulchirran Sem-Kaucha waded through the cold river water to the bank, his cloak dragging behind him. When he reached dry ground, he stopped to observe the scene.

It was dark except for the light of a waxing moon. Ahead of him, Cyr and the other Franks spread out along the bank to encircle the three little wooden buildings. Most of them carried torches, and all held either a sword or spear. Those with swords—Cyr and his comrades—were mercenaries from Burgundy who had arrived in Paris too late to engage in the battle. The others were various miscreants and adventurers Cyr had rounded up the night before they embarked. Kulchirran didn’t have time to be picky; as it was, this band of ruffians had cost him the rest of their gold. His gamble had paid off: the spacemen had led him directly to their secret base.

The three shacks didn’t look like much, but that was to be expected. This was likely just a façade; the real base was somewhere else, probably underground. That’s why not much had shown up on Cho-kaltarr ’s infrared scopes. His plan was to kill everyone in the buildings except one or two of the settlers, on whom he would use the shock glove until they told him where they others were hiding.

“Cho-kaltarr , this is Kulchirran,” he said into his comm unit. “Are you there?” If his calculations were correct, Cho-kaltarr would just be coming over the horizon .

“Hail, Kulchirran. Sahchem of Cho-ta’an ship Cho-kaltarr responding. We see that you have arrived. Have you made contact?”

“Not yet. Please give confirmation of number of humans in the three buildings near the river.”

“Infrared indicates number remains constant at six. Two in each building. All appear to be asleep.”

“Good,” Kulchirran said. “Proceeding according to plan. Will update when humans are subdued.”

“Acknowledged.”

Kulchirran terminated the connection and proceeded up the bank. As he did, the Franks converged from all sides on the buildings. There was no sign that anyone inside had noticed them. Could the humans really be this oblivious? He knew they were tracking them from their ship in orbit, but according to Sahchem, the infrared scope clearly showed six humans sleeping in the buildings. It might be a trap, but would they use their own people as bait?

Cyr had reached the door of the nearest building, and still there was no sign the humans had seen the torches.

“Sahchem, do scopes indicate any movement inside buildings?”

“No movement, Kulchirran.”

“None?”

“No movement, Kulchirran,” Sahchem repeated.

Cyr opened the door and slowly moved inside. Two more men were right behind him. At the same time, others entered the other two buildings. Kulchirran said nothing, but his intuition was telling him something was wrong. It shouldn’t be this easy. They had been set up.

As he opened his mouth to order the men out of the shelters, Cyr exited the building. His sword was in its sheath. In his left hand was a torch. He held his right hand with the palm up, as if showing something to Kulchirran. “Sand,” he said, letting the grains slip between his fingers. “Just clothes filled with warm— ”

By the time Kulchirran saw the string lying on the ground go taut, it was too late. He fell backwards, raising his arm in front of his face as the three buildings erupted in fire.

*****

Sand and pebbles rained down on Gabe as he threw aside the shield over his head. He’d been waiting, crouched in the tiny foxhole, for nearly two hours, and it took him a few seconds to straighten up completely. By the time he got his bow aimed, Áengus, on his left, and Eckart, on his right, had already fired arrows at two of the men running from the burning buildings. Áengus hit his target in the thigh; Eckart’s arrow stuck in the sand just behind another man. Gabe loosed an arrow, striking the man Eckart had missed in the chest. The man fell to the ground.

Scanning the area, Gabe saw about a dozen Franks on their feet. Most of the others were lying on the sand, injured, dazed, or dead. A few stumbled around or rolled on the ground, their hair or clothing on fire. Debris from the explosions lay scattered all over the area; some of the planks and timber fragments were still on fire, casting stark shadows in all directions. More men—Sten and his miners, as well as Helena, Nestor and Dorian, all of whom had some experience firing a bow—had popped up from shallow foxholes in a rough semicircle around the three buildings.

They had taken a big risk, betting that the Cho-ta’an’s ship’s infrared sensors wouldn’t penetrate two inches of sand and gravel on top of the shields—and also that the sand they’d heated over a fire would retain just enough heat to mimic body temperature by the time the ship passed overhead. It paid off: the Franks had walked right into the trap. Those who weren’t already dead or maimed were rapidly being cut down by arrows. A few men got past the archers, running any way they could away from the burning debris, but Sten and his men made short work of these with their axes and spears.

After dropping two more men with arrows, Gabe stopped to scan the area. At last he saw what he was looking for: an abnormally tall, lean figure draped in a cloak, making its way to the river. He ran after it.

As Gabe ran down the rocky bank, the figure reached the river and turned left, toward the village. The Cho-ta’an moved quickly, even in the relatively strong gravity of Earth, and unless this were a particularly slow specimen, Gabe would have a hard time catching it.

He pursued the Cho-ta’an for nearly a quarter-mile along the bank, slowly gaining on it. But Gabe was beginning to tire, and the Cho-ta’an showed no sign of slowing. He was almost ready to give up when the alien slipped, momentarily falling to all fours. As it got up, Gabe slammed into it, knocking it to the ground. A few feet from them, the river rushed past. While the Cho-ta’an pulled itself onto all fours, Gabe rolled on his back, trying to catch his breath. By the time the Cho-ta’an got to its feet, he managed to get a hold of one of its ankles. He pulled hard, sending it sprawling again. Dazed, the Cho-ta’an slowly got up and stumbled away. Gabe struggled to his feet and went after it.

“Coward,” Gabe gasped.

The Cho-ta’an stopped, turning to face him. “Idiot,” it said.

Gabe couldn’t help laughing. “Outsmarted… you.”

“Childish ruse. Your project will fail.”

The Cho-ta’an didn’t even seem winded. Gabe’s only chance was to keep it talking until he’d caught his breath.

“We will… succeed. We… will beat you.”

The Cho-ta’an made a choking noise. It was what their race did instead of laughing. The alien was walking toward him, its left hand outstretched in front of him. Gabe heard the crackling of static. The shock glove.

Gabe struggled to his knees, realizing he’d been foolish to run after the Cho-ta’an. The only weapon he had was a sword, and he’d never get it drawn in time. One touch from that glove could stop his heart.

As the alien drew closer, Gabe smelled ozone in the air. He got on the balls of his feet, tensed his muscles and hurled himself at the Cho-ta’an. They fell together toward the river. There was a shock of cold water and a surge of pain, and everything went black.