He had to make the time, dodging the first swing, and driving a fist sharp and hard into the man’s midriff. When the commander doubled, Michael set a boot against his shoulder and shoved him butt-first into the dirt.

  “Later,” he said. “Don’t make their deaths in vain.”

  Two of the man’s remaining Mark grabbed their commander, dragging him back even as they helped him to his feet.

  “Later,” the man snapped, shaking himself loose.

  Turning to his men, he barked the orders to get them moving, and headed further into town, his men in tow. The caravan appeared not long after Michael had resumed his second-floor position.

  This time he did not let them stop. Signaling Michelle to join him as the trucks and jeeps jolted carefully down the scree, he jogged into the street ahead of the lead vehicle.

  “Headman, follow us,” he ordered, afraid that if he let the caravan come to a halt they would not reach Caroline in time. As it was, she would soon complete the ceremony of opening, and he did not want to miss the rendezvous. They had lost ten years already.

  “Wait,” the headman said, then, out loud, “Wait!”

  Michael ignored him, jogging ahead of the caravan down the wider streets, trying to pick the route easiest for the vehicles to negotiate. Caroline was waiting. He had almost forgotten the sandrunners when the first of them skittered past him toward the hill.

  “Headman, tell your people to get off that hill. Tell them now!” he demanded, stopping to send an image of the sandrunner across the link.

  From the back of the caravan came a startled shout and the sound of sudden hard acceleration. Michael tensed, waiting for the sound of an explosion that did not come. More sandrunners scuttled past him, mandibles clacking in warning at any of the villagers who came too close.

  Down the center of their segmented backs ran two rows of pulsing light. Red, blue and yellow, the lines formed a trio of parallel ribbons leading from the sandrunners’ tails, to where they divided at the skull and ran individually to the tip of each antenna. Their multi-faceted sensor arrays, usually a midnight black in the light of day, glowed a dull cherry red in the gathering dusk. Most people stepped away as they approached.

  Knowing his people were clear of the runners and the slope, Michael turned and began jogging toward the Lower Docks. Behind them, under the shale and sand of the ridge overlooking the town, the sandrunners laid their mines, creating a barrier the Scorpions would not be able to pass without cost. As Michael jogged, he linked to the Hawk Mark leader.

  “Route?”

  “We’re clearing it as we go.” The commander sent him a map of the path they had taken.

  To Michael’s relief, it was the route he had chosen, He studied it, looked for a faster route and found none.

  “Good work, commander.”

  He rounded a corner and patched through to Simeon.

  “Report,” he ordered.

  Simeon was too tired for words, but he sent Michael his coordinates, along with an ETA for the docks. The Lions and Suns would reach the Lower Dock, but they would come in later than the caravan. The gamble had paid off, and the raiders had broken off their pursuit shortly after the Marks had changed course for the town.

  Whether the Scorpions believed it was another diversion to lead them away from the caravan, or whether they possessed another reason, Simeon didn’t know. He was just relieved the shooting had stopped, and he could bring his men to safety.

  Michael resisted the urge to tell the commander to step up the pace. He was sure the Sun’s Mark commander was doing his best to reach the rendezvous on time, which left the caravan as his sole focus. Simeon would not thank him, if he lost the villagers, now.

  The low rumble of engines grew louder as the caravan entered the street behind him. Turning, Michael waved to catch their attention, and signaled the headman over.

  “I have the route,” he said. “Hawk’s Mark is clearing the way, but Chelle and I have to secure the meeting point.”

  “Meeting point?”

  “We have a way out of here.”

  “Caroline?”

  “She will meet us there.”

  “It’s true then? The offer was real?”

  Michael shoved his anger aside, forced the resentment at ten years’ needless separation to one side. Some of it must have registered in his expression for the headman looked apologetic. He drew in a breath, but Michael shut him down before he could speak.

  “There is no time. You need to get your people to the meeting point. Here is the route.”

  He sent the man his map.

  “Chelle and I will try and keep Caroline safe, and the portal open until you arrive. I should not have to tell you to hurry.”

  Michael didn’t wait for a reply. Signaling to Michelle, he jogged away from the caravan, deliberately taking a path too narrow for any vehicle to follow. Staying close to teetering walls, and keeping as much cover between himself and the ridge, Michael hurried towards the river and the Lower Docks. Caroline would be nearing the end of her dance and the ridge wasn’t the only route into town, just the quickest.

  Once the Scorpions worked out the ridge was mined, they’d find other ways to reach them. As if in answer to his thoughts, a dull crump boomed out from the ridge. Its echoes skittered and bounced through the town, not fast enough to avoid the echoes from the second and third thumps, which rapidly turned into chain of noise that rolled over the deserted buildings like thunder.

  Dust blew in on the desert breeze, and shards of stone fell like sharp-toothed rain, clattering on rooftops, or the bare-to-sky floors of buildings that had fallen to disrepair long ago.

  Cover was no longer important. The explosions would provide a diversion, and the brief storm of sand and debris would reduce the visibility long enough for him and Michelle to reach their goal.

  Michael broke into a run. Michelle kept pace beside him. They could move more quickly, now they could take to the wider streets. Michael leapt a fallen tree trunk. Michelle followed. Together they turned into the last street, a drunken street sign reminding them of its name: Wharfside Avenue.

  Dodging darker patches that signaled unrepaired pot-holes and washouts in the pavement, the pair ran toward the last dock on the lower side of town. This had been the only dock at which the big ships could safely berth. It was situated on the deepest part of the river, where the water had once flowed wide and deceptively slow, concealing the dangerous currents that sped beneath its surface. The water had dried up long ago.

  The Lower Docks stood closest to the mountain valley lakes, the High Docks closest to the narrow cliff-edged rapids leading through the foothills to the sea. As it passed through the town, the river grew shallower, picking up speed until it hit the waterfall and the gorges below town. Traders from the coast had always braved the desert.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Caroline was nowhere to be seen when they reached the Lower Docks. The only sign she was anywhere near was the faint glow seeping out from under the door of a building that stood opposite the dock itself.

  The building was barely wider than its door, and appeared to have been wedged between a ground-floor tavern and a popular restaurant. Apartments on its upper floor gave both buildings greater height, making the space between them easy to overlook.

  Michael slid up to one side of the door, while Michelle took the other. From inside, came the sound of singing, a lullaby Caroline had used to sing both her children to sleep.

  Michael eased open the door, surprised to find it led to a space that ran the full length of its neighbors. Banks of computers lined the walls, and somewhere above them a generator hummed. Here and there a screen displayed read-outs related to the touchpads at its base.

  Caroline sat in an alcove to one side, her face partially shielded by the screens hanging before it. Michael hesitated.

  “Come in, Mike, and close the door behind you. The raiders will see the lights if you don’t.”

  He entered, Michelle following closely behind, and pulling the door shut as she cleared the threshold.

  “Don’t touch anything.”

  Caroline settled back in her seat and closed her eyes.

  Around them, screen displays changed and lights flickered. The whir of power increased. Light seeped under the door, belying the night outside. When it reached an intensity that was almost painful to watch, Caroline opened her eyes, and slipped out from under the screens.

  “It won’t remain open for long,” she said. “We haven’t the power. Tell me your people are almost here.”

  Michael tried to touch the headman’s mind, but felt only static. The flare of white noise had him opening his eyes and shaking his head.

  “I’ll need to go outside,” he said and indicated the light coming in beneath the door. “I don’t think we need to worry about the raiders noticing this place with whatever is outside.”

  “No,” Caroline agreed, “they’ll just have to follow the portal to find us. Still, I’ll lock up and hope for the best.”

  “You don’t want me to set charges?” Michael asked, allowing her to usher him outside.

  “No. If the guild wants to destroy the station, they can do it from Beershaba.”

  Michelle slipped past them, finding cover in the shadow of a stack of crates, as she glanced up and down the street.

  “How long do we have?” his daughter asked.

  Another series of explosions rumbled down from the ridge.

  “If they blow the mines instead of going the long way round, they’ll be here in half an hour,” he said. “Going ’round, they’ll give us an hour and a half.”

  “How far away are your people?” Caroline repeated.

  Michael closed his eyes and reached for the headman’s mind.

  “Ten minutes,” he answered, after speaking to the village chief. “He says thank you; they can see just fine now.”

  “I’ll bet they can,” Michelle muttered, looking around the boxes at the half-moon of light hanging at the end of the dock.

  It glowed silver-bright, illuminating the streets and the town, completely obscuring the view of the other bank. Another series of explosion came from the ridge.

  “They’re not going to take the long way,” Michael said, and reached for Simeon.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “We can see the light.”

  “How far out?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes, but…”

  Michael glimpsed the injured in Simeon’s mind, caught a touch of the heartbreak the man faced. From the end of the street, he heard the rumble of engines. The villagers had arrived.

  “Give me their position,” he ordered. “I am coming.”

  “Michelle,” he said. “Defender. Stay here. Make sure the villagers and the gatekeeper get through. Send Hawk’s Mark through first to secure the other side. Do not wait for me.”

  He did not wait for her to protest, but laid a hand on her shoulder, before kissing Caroline lightly on the lips.

  “I will try to be back in time.”

  Michael was downloading the coordinates for Simeon’s wounded as he hurried toward the headman. He almost didn’t hear Caroline’s soft response.

  “Don’t make me wait for you, again.”

  The sadness in her voice made him want to weep, but he refused to look back. There was no promise he could make that he could guaranteed to keep.

  Instead, he hurried to where the chieftain was walking with the Hawk’s Mark commander. Both men looked up as he approached, so Michael wasted no time.

  “Chief, I need the lead car.”

  When the man hesitated, Michael added, “There are wounded.”

  He didn’t need to say more. The men in the vehicle were out of it before the chief could speak. Michael made a brief gesture towards his daughter.

  “Defender Michelle is in charge. She is with the gatekeeper.”

  He didn’t give them time to argue or protest, but swung into the driver’s seat and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The dry river bed was his best hope of reaching the coordinates Simeon had sent.

  Michael took the nearest boat ramp with a speed bordering on reckless. Simeon had delegated those fit enough to move to his second in command, and refused to leave the injured.

  Michael passed the incoming soldiers as he found the trader’s fjord five clicks north of town. He almost rolled the headman’s jeep making the turn, but managed to get it to drop back onto four wheels in time to take the next. It took him ten minutes to find Simeon, five for them to load the wounded and strap them in. Michael wondered if they could just drive the jeep through.

  He’d ask Caroline when they returned.

  Simeon had driven his troops to exhaustion, and taken himself beyond it. In spite of that, he climbed in the back with his men. Michael started driving as soon as the Sun’s commander was inside. This time, he drove more carefully, trying to minimize the amount of bouncing while going as fast as he could.

  “They’re coming.” Michelle mind-touched him as soon as she saw the jeep. “Keep driving.”

  He disobeyed, of course. While the villagers had disappeared, presumably through the portal’s shining surface, the men from the Sun and Lions’ Marks had obviously only just arrived.

  Michael pulled the lead car to a swift halt.

  “Simeon, you need to drive,” he called, and ran to where his daughter was directing the others through.

  Stopping had been a bad idea for the exhausted soldiers. With safety a scant few meters away, more than a few of them had collapsed to the ground. Michael ran to the first one.

  Behind him, he heard Simeon giving orders, then the jeep’s engine growled and the vehicle edged into the light. The rest of the Mark parted to let it through, then followed after. Michael looked down at the soldier, and then pulled him to his feet.

  “Come on, mate. You can’t stop there,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

  When he’d gotten the man stumbling forward, Michael let go of him and reached for the next one.

  “Come on. Up you get. Make sure your mate gets through the gate. Come on. Up then.”

  With the second man up and moving, Michael turned to the third. He had just noted the blood pooling around the man’s torso, when he felt a presence by his side.

  “Shit.” Simeon’s voice was quiet with disappointment. “He never said he was hit.”

  “Get him up,” Michael ordered. “He’s going to need some help getting through the gate.”

  Instead of obeying, the Sun leader, peeled open the man’s shirt to find the wound, then ripped a self-adhesive dressing from a pocket on his fatigues and slapped it over the injury. He didn’t bother closing the shirt, but lifted the man across his shoulder and ran with him to the gate.

  “Can I get back?” he asked.

  Michelle shook her head, and Simeon hesitated clearly torn between taking the injured man to safety, and seeing to the rest of his Mark.

  “Go!” Michael shouted. “I’ll see to the rest of your men!”

  “But I—” Simeon started to protest, but Michelle came at him from the side and shoved him into the glow. He was gone with a startled shout.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Michael yelled, pulling at the next man until he stumbled forward at a run.

  His daughter echoed him, slapping the next man on the back.

  Slowly, too slowly, they got the men moving and through, helping the wounded to their feet and supporting them to the gate. The town, the Scorpions, all were forgotten as the Defenders worked in concert, chivvying exhausted men through the shifting surface.

  When the colors grew watery, the pair only moved faster, determined that not one of the Mark would be left behind. Not on their watch.

  Ripples were running through the gate’s surface by the time Michael lifted the last of the soldiers and draped him across his daughter’s shoulders.

  “Take him through,” he ordered. “I’ll follow.”

  He did not tell her he had seen shadows moving amongst the buildings, that the Scorpions had arrived with their hounds, but she hesitated when he unslung the headman’s sub-machine gun.

  “Go!” Michael shouted. “Get him through. I’ll cover you.”

  Michelle made a face as if to protest, but remembered her duty and obeyed, carrying the soldier out along the dock and up to the swirling pattern of light. Michael heard her parting words as she stepped backwards.

  “Mama is going to kill us both.”

  He would have laughed, but he was watching the shadows’ approach, seeing them coalesce into individual men and beasts. He willed his daughter to hurry and wished he’d had time to place explosives where the dock joined the wharf. But he hadn’t.

  Approaching the portal’s threshold, Michelle shifted the man’s weight as though thinking of throwing him through, but her burden was too heavy. She hesitated, catching Michael’s eye as he glanced over his shoulder to monitor her progress.

  “I love you, too,” he said, bringing the subby up and firing a short burst at the darkness between an old fishmonger’s shop and a pub. A yelp, a shout of dismay and silence rang back. He’d bought more time.

  “Go,” he said. “I’ll follow.”

  “I’ll be back,” Michelle replied, and he sensed her leave.

  The dock behind him felt surprisingly empty, the night a sad place now all those he loved were on the other side of the portal. Michael glanced back at it, noted the pallor of its colors and the instability shaking its surface. He shifted back the last few paces to the gate’s brink and went to his knees.