Samas sat against the back of the cave with a clear view of the exit ahead of him. Despite the imminent danger it felt cosy, with the light from Li’s visor giving the shelter a warm ambience. He watched the soldiers cleaning blades, repairing armour or repacking belongings, and wondered why Sakarbaal, the tattooed fighter with the trident, was rubbing his tattoos with the skin of a purple fruit.
‘Where is he from?’ Samas asked Li, who sat nearby projecting shapes onto a wall.
‘He’s a Canaanite or Phoenician, as you would know his people, possibly Carthaginian or Punic? A North African empire – before the Romans wiped them out, of course.’
‘Romans?’ Samas was confused by Li’s endless list of people and places he had never heard of.
‘It’s a long story…’
‘Another one I won’t want to hear, no doubt.’ Samas shook his head and watched the Assyrian archer Marodeen pluck a bird, selecting the best feathers to replace shabby flights on his arrows.
‘Hey, nice work there.’ The archer with the longbow joined Marodeen. ‘It’s good to meet an archer who can actually fletch.’
The Assyrian remained focused on his work. ‘Professionals know their weapons.’
‘I’m Mark Bowman.’ The English archer held out his hand. ‘But you can call me Bowman.’
‘I’m Marodeen.’
Bowman hovered. ‘Any chance I can have some feathers?’
Marodeen didn’t look up. ‘I need them all.’
‘Right.’ Bowman backed off. ‘I’ll just have to catch one myself then.’
Samas watched Bowman stalk off like a scolded child, sending a hurt glance over his shoulder at Marodeen. It wasn’t good to let bad feelings stew like this, Samas thought. They were only beginning to understand the challenges this small army would face and they needed to be a solid fighting unit if they were to survive. He started thinking of ways he could improve the morale in the group… games maybe, or pairing the soldiers up? Competitions during training had always worked well but they didn’t have time for drills here as they marched for the silver gates. The ideas slowed as he became drowsy, his eyelids closed and he fell asleep.
Samas sat up and stared at the cave mouth, just visible in the early-morning light. Something had woken him, but what? A deep rumble shook the ground, and he looked around: the other soldiers were stirring, weary eyes searching for answers; dust and small stones fell from the cave roof like snow. Samas had felt earthquakes before, knew they could flatten cities, so he jumped up and grabbed his weapons and shield.
‘Get outside!’ Samas shouted, as an almighty thunderclap shook the cave. ‘Come on!’ He shook the nearest warriors awake and pushed the soldiers in his way.
Blocks of rock were falling from the cave ceiling and cracks were running up the walls.
‘Move!’ Samas shouted in his battlefield voice and held his shield over his head as the stones rained down.
A large block slipped from the cave mouth wall and Samas leapt out of its way just in time. He pulled a swordsman out of the rubble, bruised and dusty, then caught his breath, brushed the dust off his armour and counted his men: three were missing as far as he could tell.
‘Li!’ he shouted and ran over to where the Chinese soldier surveyed the landscape. ‘We’re missing three men.’
‘In the cave,’ Li replied and put a hand on Samas’ shoulder.
He shook it off and fought his urge to run in and save them. ‘Then we have to–’
‘We must wait for aftershocks,’ Li said.
Samas cursed under his breath, knowing it was the right thing to do.
The oncoming dawn lit glades of cacti as the Night Watch neared the end of their night journey. Not one to hold grudges, Samas didn’t blame Li for the loss of three men, but felt he could have saved one if he had been quick enough.
‘We must be near the golden hills,’ he said to Li.
‘It would appear so.’
A shout from the left flank caught their attention. It was Olan, the Viking, and Samas was soon beside him.
‘I’m fine – I tripped.’ The Viking brushed himself down and picked up the offending item. ‘Feels like metal.’
‘It looks like a shield.’ Li’s visor cast a light on it. ‘Possibly Roman.’
‘One of the day travellers?’ Samas asked.
Li nodded. ‘It has to be.’
‘Did you say it was Roman?’ Sakarbaal interrupted.
‘Yes.’
‘Dido’s pelt!’ He laughed. ‘I knew there’d be good news soon.’
Samas looked at him, unsure how to respond.
‘Believe me,’ Sakarbaal grinned his malicious smile, ‘one less Roman in the world is a good thing. Is there blood? If only I could have been here to see the dirty bastard die!’
Samas took the crushed piece of metal from Olan, cursing the lack of moonlight. ‘Are these toothmarks?’ He fingered the holes, picked out a tooth and handed it to Li.
‘Seems to be a shark tooth. But how did it get here, on the edge of this forest?’ Li asked.
‘We must be near a sea,’ Samas said.
‘No,’ Li said.
‘An animal with similar teeth?’ Samas asked.
‘What if it’s still here?’ Sakarbaal lifted his trident.
‘No,’ Mihran replied. ‘If the shield belonged to the Day Watch, the attack happened hours ago.’
‘Still, we should get out of the forest,’ Li said, ‘into the open.’
As they wound out of the forest, Samas came across a golden chest plate covered in eagle motifs.
‘I’ll swap!’ Olan snatched the breastplate before Samas could protest and handed him a Roman sword. ‘Looks like gold.’ Olan tried it on, tightening the leather straps over each shoulder.
Samas shrugged, happy to keep the peace.
‘Quiet!’ Li hissed. ‘Something’s coming!’
Samas sprinted into the open with Olan at his side.
‘Archers ready.’ Samas spoke in a low voice, and his men responded with a series of squeaking strings and bows.
‘What is it?’ Mihran asked Li.
‘A shark – Carcharodon carcharias – and it’s swimming through the air,’ Li replied matter of factly.
The unmistakeable silhouette of a shark slipped out of the trees and headed straight for them.
‘Loose!’ Samas yelled and a small cloud of arrows flew at the shark, most glancing off the tough skin. Marodeen’s arrow missed by a distance and veered into the dark sky.
‘Draw swords! Spearmen ready!’ Samas shouted.
Samas eyed Marodeen then looked back to his wild arrow, which had flipped back on itself. Samas had never seen anything like it. Was it the wind? The arrow wavered then headed straight for the shark, speeding up before plunging into its eye.
‘Good shot!’ Samas shouted in surprise, leaving Marodeen rubbing his thick beard.
‘Impressive,’ Bowman nodded.
The shark’s scream pierced the evening air as it thrashed about, snapping the arrow against a tree.
‘Loose!’ A second volley of arrows scratched and irritated the shark.
‘Captain, I can see thermal residue in the ground.’ Samas realised Li was talking to him. ‘It looks like the Day Watch used explosives to scare off the shark.’
‘Can you?’ Samas gestured to the laser rifle.
‘Sure.’ Li unclipped the slender gun and fired a series of fireballs at the flying predator.
The first explosion left a burning blue light in Samas’ vision. The rest he didn’t see but heard clearly enough. When he regained his sight the shark had disappeared into the trees.
‘Good work!’ Samas said and rubbed his eyes.
‘Uphill!’ Mihran ordered.
‘Archers to the rear,’ Samas commanded. ‘Signal if it returns.’
‘Why didn’t you attack with the first wave?’ Mihran asked Li.
Samas heard Li sigh, but doubted Mihran had noticed. ‘After killing the elephant I assumed I was to hold back.’
‘No,’ Mihran replied, ‘no more holding back.’
Li nodded and they walked on.
Why couldn’t he talk to Mihran like that? Samas thought. He had little time for Mihran, but if they were to lead together, they needed a better relationship. The trouble was, every time Mihran spoke, Samas pictured a general from his Persian army: haughty and ungracious. He had been high-born too, Samas thought. Power was the one thing Mihran took for granted. He would have been given the right to subjugate others from birth and would never give that up. Here, away from the safety of the structured world of his tribe and army, those rights were not certain any more, and Samas threatened his power.
With that thought, Samas walked a little lighter on his feet.
‘This is far enough . ’ Lavalle spoke to the group with weary eyes. ‘We should make camp.’
Althorn appeared by his side in a blur. ‘I have found shelter,’ he gestured and sped off again.
John tightened the strap holding his arm and longed for somewhere dry to lie down and sleep. Night had fallen hours ago and the winding forest path that ran up and downhill had made their journey hard going but Althorn insisted the river was just one day’s walk away. No one mentioned Mata and the wolves, but it hadn’t stopped John from thinking about it. Images of whipping green tendrils revisited him as he walked. John had tried to make eye contact with Mata, but he kept his distance.
‘The land drops away from here . ’ Althorn appeared and pointed to a sandy cliff lined with rows of caves, which were clearly not natural. ‘So it’s a great view when light.’
‘Looks like these were made for us!’ Crossley shone his torch into the first few caves, which stood six feet tall and ten feet deep.
‘Are these ruins?’ Euryleia asked and touched a wall.
‘They definitely look man-made . ’ John inspected a wall. ‘But why six sides? Why not square or arched?’
‘Who knows?’ Lavalle pushed past and settled in the first cave. ‘What I need is sleep.’
Euryleia followed the crusader, and the other soldiers leapt at the next few caves, pushing past one another like children trying to get to the best dormitory bed. Lavalle’s glare told them his cave was full.
‘We’ll only get three in at the most,’ someone grumbled.
‘Don’t worry – there’s plenty more . ’ Crossley lit the long row up with his torch.
John watched Mata walk to one of the caves furthest from the group, so he joined Althorn and Randeep. He curled up with his bag for a pillow and was asleep in seconds.
‘Who’s there?’ John’s voice boomed in t he small cave .
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was light outside and t he cave was silent . What had woken him? Possibly Althorn when he left, seeing as his place was empty .
Beyond thehexagonal cave entrance,John sawa mistrising through the forest canopy,which lay below the cave’s vantage point. The hazy sun’s mellow heat warmed the shelters,and John felt a feeling of contentment washover him. Despitethe danger of this land, hepreferred itto the destroyed towns and flooded trenches of Belgium and France.He glanced athis gun-arm, which lay bare since he’d ripped off the shirt sleeve. It had changed again: the corners of the muzzle looked softer, with organic curves,and his wrist was more metal than fleshnow. He had tried fitting the discus-shapedmagazineback in,in caseit could stillfire bullets, but the hole had distorted, making it useless. He could feel the gun though. Not the ghost presence of his fingers, as an amputee would, but he could sense the inner components of the gun instead, which felt comforting.
John crept out onto the earthen platform in front of the caves where the trees had been deliberately cut down. A distant bird sang a fluting tune and he instinctively searched for the creature: he’d learnt any sound could be a threat here.
‘The caves are definitely man-made . ’ Crossley appeared from behind a tree, zipping his fly.
John felt his heart jump.
‘You can see the marks where the builders used some kin d of slicing tool to carve them out of the lime stone,’ the American continued .
John pointed at the stumps. ‘They’ve cut these down too.’
‘I’m telling you – there has to be someone else living he re, ’ Crossley said.
‘You think other soldiers were here before us?’ John asked .
Cros sley shook his head. ‘Who knows? I would have said no, but this place is kinda strange.’ He sat next to John and gazed out as the dawn light spread across the tre e tops . ‘ Knowing this place , they were probably built by some kind of weird monkey or overs ized crab! ’ He laughed.
‘A bit like the Lost World, this place, ’ John said.
‘You read the book?’
‘No . ’ John wasn’t a big reader. ‘Some of my mates in the barracks tal ked about it – they’d read it. D inosaurs and monkey men in South America .’
‘Yeah, i t’s a good yarn. I guess you wouldn’t have heard of Asimov or Heinlein, or read any of the sci-fi mags we’ve got in the US, but I reckon this place is more like something H . G . Wells would have dreamt up.’
‘I’ve heard of him . ’ John smiled. ‘The lads were talking about The Time Machine the other day . ’ His face lit up. ‘Do you think that’s how we got here?’
Crossley shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ He looked around. ‘This could be Earth in the future. Maybe humans are extinct and we’ve been brough t in to repopulate the planet, or protect it?’
‘So, people in our future brought us here but didn’t stay to talk to us ?’ John asked with a wry smile.
‘No, it doesn’t sound too convincing . ’ Crossley rubbed his temples and smiled. ‘We could have been put in hibernation though – no time machine needed. Don’t know by who, but that’d work.’
‘Now you’re just guessing . ’ John looked out across the woodland. ‘Whoever brought us here must have had a bloody good reason to go to all this trouble .’
The sound of a snapped twig made them turn to see Lavalle exiting his cave.
‘A nice little love nest over there, hey?’ Crossley whispered to John.
‘Good morning . ’ The muscular knight stretched as he greeted the men. ‘Damn cramped in that cave – not good for my back.’
Crossley raised his eyebrows at John , who shook his head, imploring him not to tease Lavalle .
‘Too cramped for you to get your sword out and try some lunges?’ Crossley asked with a straight face.
‘Yes, of course . ’ Lavalle gave the American his u sual look. ‘Why would I want to? ’
John turned his laugh into a cough and stood up. ‘Sorry, cold air on my chest.’
Crossley sta rted to say something else but a shout caught their attention. It was coming from Mata’s end of the caves.
‘Help!’ The cry was muffled.
The men ran towards the yell, past sleeping soldiers, to a blood-splattered cave. A decapitated body lay on the floor near a Chinese soldier , who struggled with two enormous blades swip ing in and out of the back wall .
‘God’s mercy!’ Lavalle leapt forward with his sword to f end off the sharp blades.
Crossley and John rushed in but co uld do little in the cramped spac e.
T wo large compound eyes could be seen through the torn wall .
‘It’s a giant bug!’ Crossley shouted and pulled an orange toadstool from his bag .
The huge insect snapped and tore at the Chinese soldier with its razor-sharp mandibles. With a lunge, it caught him around the waist and sliced him in two, spilling his intestines onto the ground.
Lavalle jabbed his broadsword into the insect’s eye.
‘Get back!’ Crossley grabbed at Lavalle . ‘Or you’ll be next… s tand clear!’ Crossley shouted and lobbed a toadstool into the cave.
The explosion was magnified in the small chamber and sent a blast of debris over them , but John had turned in time to avoid a face full of stones.
‘What did you do that for , you imbecile?’ Lavalle roared, dusting himself off.
‘W e had to kill it , ’ Crossley replied.
‘Well now you’ve woken up the whole damn nest.’
John looked up to see row after row of hexagonal caves lin ed on top of one another , leading up the entire cliff face . ‘There must be hundreds of them.’
More screams could be heard and John rushed to Mata’s cave in time to see a pair of glistening jaws pierci ng through the rear of the cave .
Lavalle bellowed , ‘ Everyone out of the caves and into the forest as fast as you can. ’
A low humming sound was coming from the giant colony , so John grabbed his bag and ra n, catching glimpses of jaws and clawed feet bursting through the wall s of each cave he passed .
‘Bloody giant wasps, ’ he heard Crossley muttering ahead. ‘What’s n ext? A troop of groundhogs with machetes?’
‘Downhill!’ Lavalle led them into the forest.
The humming noise was getting louder . With a glance back , John saw a line of wasps the size of fighter planes streaming out of the nest .
They were at the forest edge when the fir st insects attacked , grabbing the stragglers and stabbing with their stings.
‘Don’t stop!’ John shouted to a medieval lancer who struck out at the flying beasts with his long spear.
‘I’ll hold them off ! ’ The lancer jabbed one attacker in the abdomen, sending it falling to the ground in a wild panic of thrashing legs and pincers.
The buzzing grew louder in response.
‘You’re just making them worse!’ John shouted, but it was too late.
T hree wasps descended and pierced the lancer with their metre-long stings.
‘John!’ Crossley shouted from the forest edge. ‘Hurry up!’
Once again, there was nothing John could do and h e sprinted int o the safety of the dark forest .
‘We’ve gotta keep moving . ’ Crossley pointed into the forest.
‘Aye, they’re tenacious beasties,’ said the Scottish warrior. ‘They won’t give up.’
‘Right then,’ said Lavalle , ‘ follow me!’
Althorn appeared between John and Mata. ‘You’ll need to be quick – they’re crawling in. ’ He vanish ed and appeared next to Lavalle . ‘Get deeper into the wood.’
What felt like an age later, t he line of soldiers filed out of the forest and onto a long , sandy beach.
‘Wow, ’ John said, squinting in the light.
Small waves folded softly into the sand and palms sway ed in the breeze.
John dropped his bag and fell to his knees. ‘This is beautiful.’
‘Wait a minute . ’ Crossley’s loud voice pierced the serene moment. ‘That’s no river – it’s a sea!’
Althorn looked blank. ‘What’s a sea?’
‘Are you serious?’ Crossley growled.
Althorn shrugged.
‘Great, so now we have to cross – ’
‘Q uiet! ’ Lavalle shouted and pointed to the sky .
John looked up and shiel ded his eyes with his good hand to see a line of dark silhouettes descend ing from the clouds .
‘I want to talk to you about the future,’ Samas said to Li as they walked ahead of the main party.
‘Go on,’ Li replied with no emotion.
‘What was war like in your time?’ Samas asked.
‘To be honest, we fight over the same thing – power. Power over trade, water or oil. But the fighting is very different from your time. We fight in cities, not on plains. Anyone in the open would be killed by tracker robots or vaporised by cosmo-tanks…’
Samas frowned as Li’s words made no sense.
‘Automated fighting machines,’ Li explained.
Samas nodded, picturing wooden constructions firing exploding spears. ‘And in the cities you fight with guns and explosions?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hand-to-hand combat? Face to face?’
‘Yes.’
‘And they let women fight?’
Li paused. ‘Yes – in fact, where I come from, the best soldiers are women.’
Samas waited a few strides before asking, ‘When are you going to tell the rest of the group you’re a woman?’
‘I’m not,’ Li answered quickly. ‘The last thing we need is more disruption.’
‘But you will tell them eventually?’
Li didn’t answer.
The path eventually stopped at a cliff edge.
‘There’s a rough track down there.’ Bowman stood at the edge of the two-hundred-foot-high cliff in the hazy dusk light. ‘It zigzags down. It’ll be tight.’
Samas couldn’t see any path.
‘After you then, sure-foot!’ Sakarbaal patted Bowman on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry – we’re right behind you.’ He laughed.
Bowman made tentative steps down the narrow ledge, avoiding the piles of scree and loose stone.
‘Careful there!’ Samas shouted.
The rest of the Night Watch stared down, holding their collective breath as the Englishman picked out a safe route.
‘It’s fine!’ he shouted back up from a ledge. ‘Come on!’ he beckoned.
‘Why not?’ Sakarbaal stepped down onto the precarious path, using his trident for balance, followed by the rest of the group.
Samas studied the cliff. Rocks jutted out, capturing soil for shrubs, whose roots secured the meandering path. Samas’ turn came, and he cautiously positioned his sandalled feet on the dusty path which had been flattened by the first soldiers. He kept one eye on the path and another on the men up front.
‘Woah!’ Olan steadied himself after a slip that sent shards of rock into the forest below.
‘This bit’s a bit hairy,’ Bowman shouted up.
‘Dido’s pelt!’ Samas heard Sakarbaal join Bowman at a resting point. ‘We’re not even halfway down.’
The air cooled and an evening mist rose from the thick forest below.
‘We should have made ropes,’ Samas mumbled to himself. ‘Don’t rush – take your time!’ He called down and took his eyes off the path. With a twist of the ankle, he slipped… the weight of his shield pulled him away from the cliff and he fell.
Down.
Through thin air.
It felt like time stood still as Samas saw shocked faces above him – Li; Mihran; Bowman; Sakarbaal – felt a wave of calm wash over him, found himself staring up the cliff face and into the dark clouds above. He stopped thrashing his arms and legs. What will be, will be, he thought. Then he slammed into a ledge with an explosion that shook his bones and darkness consumed him.
His next sensation was pain. It came in the form of light. He saw a low, grey light pulsing. Was that his heartbeat or his pounding head? Then a lightning strike ripped across his vision. What was that? Samas could feel something sticking into him. He tried to move and the lightning flashed again. Where was the pain? He moved his legs, then his arms. They were stuck but if he… there was the flash again.
This wasn’t good.
He tried to open his eyes but they remained stubbornly closed. What was he afraid of seeing? He’d seen worse in battle. He heard voices and a spray of stones clattered near his feet.
‘He’s down here!’
Who was that? Sakarbaal?
‘I can’t get across to him.’
‘I can make it from here,’ another voice replied.
Samas forced his eyes open and craned his neck but couldn’t see either of them. Was it Bowman? The pain in his arm throbbed, so he tried to shift his weight but was pinned down. Why couldn’t he move?
‘Samas!’ Bowman came into view, sliding down to where he lay.
‘I–’ Samas tried to move, but the pain made him dizzy. He held his breath, trying not to vomit.
‘Are you hurt?’ Bowman asked.
‘My arm…’
‘If that’s all, you got away lightly – it wasn’t a race, you know. No prizes for getting down first.’
Samas started to laugh but a pain in his side stopped him. ‘Maybe my ribs as well.’
Sakarbaal was beside Bowman now. ‘We’ll have to lift him out – sit him against the cliff.’
‘Easier said than done. It’s lucky these plants broke your fall,’ Bowman said. ‘And having your shield on your back.’
‘My shield!’ Samas would be lost without his weapons. ‘Has it broken?’
‘Don’t worry, let’s concentrate on you,’ Bowman answered. ‘Ready?’
Sakarbaal nodded. ‘Ready. One arm and one leg each… easy… come on.’
The men carefully laid Samas on the dusty ledge.
‘I could have predicted it would be you.’ Mihran appeared, wearing a look of distaste.
Samas stared back and said nothing. If I can face an army, he thought, I can face you. And if I can face you, I can face this pain. As if in response, a shot of pain darted along his wrist, causing him to wince. I’ll fight again, he thought.
‘We’ll see,’ Mihran said, then turned to Sakarbaal. ‘Make a stretcher.’ He ushered the rest of the soldiers along. ‘Keep moving.’
Samas looked at Mihran in confusion. Had he just replied to what Samas had been thinking? No, it must have been a trick of the mind, he thought, I must have said it out loud.
Sleep took Samas again.
When he woke, Li was scanning his body. ‘You’ve got bruising on your lower back which will heal with heat-wave treatment.’
Samas’ eyes widened as he envisioned red-hot coals.
‘Your main issues are the broken ribs and arm.’ She motioned towards Samas’ left arm, which he cradled.
Samas looked at it, wondering how Li would fix it.
‘Is it a clean break?’ Mihran asked.
‘Yes, both bones, no shards or fractures.’
‘Then we must put a splint on it and let it heal naturally,’ Mihran suggested, to Samas’ relief.
‘We can use clay to make a cast,’ Li said. ‘The clay in the cliff is high in gypsum and sand.’
Mihran nodded. ‘Make it quick – we must keep moving.’
Li gave Samas a sedative before setting his arm, and the next time he woke he was lying in a bed of ferns by the shore of a lake. His arm felt tight and a tingling sensation ran down his side but he didn’t move for fear of setting off more pain. He looked up: dusk was coming.
‘Something’s happening down the coast.’ Bowman appeared and Mihran stood up with a flourish of red robes. ‘I heard shouts and…’
‘What is it?’ Samas asked but Mihran held up his hand.
Li scanned the forest canopy. ‘I see a swarm of large hornets in attack formation.’
‘When you say large, how large?’ someone out of Samas’ view asked.
‘Taller than a man,’ Li replied.
‘Target practice?’ Bowman smiled at Marodeen, who didn’t look impressed.
Li followed the line of flight. ‘A group of soldiers are being attacked on the beach. What shall we do?’
All eyes turned to their injured battle leader, Samas.
‘I think I’ll sit this one out.’ Samas smiled at Mihran. ‘Commander, it’s over to you.’
The giant wasps swarmed over the rocks where the Day Watch hid and fought sword to pincer. John was pinned down in a gap, his feet slipping in the sand as he struck out at a snapping insect. He gripped the metal body of the gun with his left hand and jabbed the muzzle at the wasp’s eye.
‘Get away!’ he shouted and threw a handful of sand.
With a wild shriek, the wasp leapt back, revealing the hazy sky. Shaken but still fighting fit, John peeked over a rock to see the wasp writhing in the sand, clawing at a spear in its abdomen.
‘Finish it off!’ A cry came from behind John and Randeep leapt out to deftly decapitate the wasp with his curved sword.
John tapped his gun-arm and said to Crossley, ‘If this bloody thing was working, I’d have killed twenty by now.’
Crossley shrugged. ‘Twenty’s nothing.’
‘A brief respite and they’ll be back,’ Lavalle said, catching his breath.
John stared at the yellow gore dripping off the knight’s broadsword.
‘Where’s Althorn?’ John asked.
‘Deploying ammo to the archers,’ said Lavalle.
‘Where from?’ John asked.
Crossley pointed to a faint blur criss-crossing the battlefield. ‘He’s picking up missed arrows.’
The buzzing noise was getting louder again.
Lavalle rallied the unit. ‘Same again – heads down, aim for the waist or eyes. Crossley, you and John finish off any brought to ground.’
The sky darkened as two lines of wasps descended.
‘They’re throwing everything they’ve got at us!’ Crossley shouted.
John could make out a spray of arrows and quivering spears flying out of the palms where Euryleia’s group lay hidden, but only a couple of wasps were hit. He tensed his hand and rubbed his gun, wishing he could use it again as the wasps arrived, diving in sting first.
‘Gotcha!’ The Scottish warrior cut a sting in half with a swipe of his blade.
The wasp shrieked and scrambled on the rocks in pain where, in a flash of blue, Randeep leapt up to slice the beast’s head off and kick the flailing body onto the sand.
He was a true hero, John thought.
Another wasp attacked and John ducked down as its long sting darted past, scraping the rock by his head. For some reason, his grandfather’s words came back to him from the day he’d practically frogmarched John to the army office: ‘You defend your people, you defend your land. Every man able to walk should be fighting tooth and nail!’
John looked around. Everyone was swiping, jabbing or blocking with all their strength. What if someone died when there was something he could have done? He looked at Crossley, who was throwing stones at the nearest wasp. John’s hand dropped to feel for stones on the ground but felt the satchel instead.
‘Oi, Crossley!’ he shouted and held up the bag.
Crossley grinned. ‘I thought we’d run out!’
Leaning on a shoulder-high rock, John breathed in deeply, took out a toadstool and counted. ‘One, two, three…’ He lobbed the first one like a hand grenade and rolled over the rock onto his feet. ‘Come on, you bastards!’ he yelled as he ran, throwing explosive fungi with his good arm.
Crossley was soon beside him. ‘Give ’em hell, Johnny!’ he shouted as his pitching arm delivered a devastating throw: de-winging a wasp and sending it crashing into two others.
‘Don’t call me Johnny!’ John shouted as he ran across the sand with no destination in mind.
One toadstool missed its target and blew a crater out of the beach, covering Crossley with sand.
‘Hey, watch it!’ he shouted.
Wasps detached themselves from the main fight and followed John, but were met with balls of fire. Wings, striped abdomens and heads lay scattered along the beach next to human limbs and corpses. After two minutes of running and dodging, John was disorientated. A few throws later, his gun felt twice as heavy and the wet sand pulled at his feet. He stumbled and panted hard as his lungs grew heavy.
‘Come on!’ Crossley beckoned towards the palms where the archers were hiding, but John’s legs were slowing down.
His vision started to blur, so he stopped for a second. His head was thumping with all the noise: the buzzing; shouting; explosions. Visions of one of his old battles tried to invade the space behind his eyes, but he was too drained to concentrate on them. He strained and tensed his muscles, forcing his body to move, and felt a click in his gun-arm as though one of his lost tendons had pulled an internal mechanism.
With a solid thump, a wasp landed on the sand in front of him, followed by two more.
‘Oh shit,’ John mumbled and stepped backwards.
He thrust his hand into the satchel but only one toadstool remained. One throw might injure two wasps, but others would be on him in a second. He had to get to the palm trees, he thought, as a new wasp hovered menacingly overhead, swinging its sting at John’s shoulder.
‘Get back!’ John shouted and swiped his gun-arm, but the weight of the gun pulled him over and the wasp’s sting scratched his right shoulder, tearing at his shirt.
‘Damn it!’ He threw the last toadstool and watched it fall short, showering the advancing wasps with sand, infuriating them.
They charged at John with pincers gnashing… but a line of light, brighter than the sun, tore a smoking hole through one head, then the other. Both wasps collapsed in the sand. John stared in disbelief and turned to where the beam had come from. Scores of soldiers were advancing along the beach, surrounded by a wave of fire and green light.