Cyrus opened his eye as someone shook him. “Cyrus!” Carmina whispered. “I think it is done!”

  “Mm,” he grunted, and clicked the shotgun’s safety on, before taking it off his lap and struggling to his feet.

  “How did you sleep through THAT?” Carmina asked. “There were gunshots and explosions and all sorts of noise! I thought you hated explosions!”

  Cyrus opened his mouth, and shut it again. He didn’t understand it himself. It was… easier, when you were in hostile territory. His mind expected explosions, so explosions didn’t bother him as much, not while he was here. But home was supposed to be safe, so hearing loud noises or things that belonged in hostile territory there bothered some part of his mind he couldn’t control.

  “Lots of practice in Korea,” Cyrus finally said, half-fibbing. He checked his holster to make sure his Colt forty-five was seated properly. “I didn’t mean to sleep, though. I guess I was just tired.” Come to think of it, he’d been constantly working on things ever since he got here. No wonder I conked out. It was odd that his body wasn’t complaining as much as it normally did, though. He felt fewer aches and pains than normal and he’d been sleeping on stone, for Christ’s sake. More oxygen in the air, maybe? Or slightly lower gravity, like Barsoom?

  Hell, for all he knew, it was just plain magic.

  Cyrus glanced around, found a figure missing. “Where is Henri?”

  “Palmer told me to go get him and you. Henri went first while I was waking you. A man went down, and the Captain wants to talk to you now.”

  “Shit.” Cyrus took the stairs as fast as he could, and blinked his eye in the green sunlight. He took a dozen precious seconds to adjust, and after he trusted his sight again, he followed the sound of voices to the leaning pillar that served as the border between points Bravo and Charlie.

  Over toward the fallen slab that Cyrus had dubbed the Altar, a uniformed private was thrashing around as Phillips and Holden held him down, and Henri fiddled with the man’s head. The poor guy grunted louder and louder, his pain clear and obscene, until—

  SNAP!

  Oh, that sounded like bone. The kid left off grunting and sagged, breathing hard.

  “There, that’s done it!” Henri Guiscare declared.

  “Is he gonna live?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yes, but his jaw is badly broken. I set it, but between a twisted ankle and what’s probably a minor concussion, he’s out of action for a while. I’m goin’ to have to dope him up.” Henri produced a syringe, and slid it into the private’s arm.

  “All right,” Cyrus said, taking a minute to collect his thoughts. “Captain. What’s the uh, situation?” God damn, Cyrus hated being in charge.

  If Phillips noticed any hesitation, he took it in stride as he answered. “We killed eight. The rest fell bak, carrying a couple of wounded. This was nowhere near their full force. Sergeant Holden estimates two dozen.”

  “And the main group’s what, at least fifty?”

  “Mossjaeger estimated fifty to sixty, sir,” Phillips nodded.

  “All right.” Cyrus squeezed his eye shut. “What have you got people doing? And will we be enough to hold this spot?”

  “As to what I’ve got them doing, I’ve got them displacing, mostly.” Phillips turned and glanced around the ruin. “The enemy used a smokescreen to get into Point Alpha. No reason to think they won’t try it again, so we’ve shifted around to hide our new positions. I’ll have Keaton, Steiner, and Smith up at the firing points at the edge and I’ll be with them; we’ll engage further out when they push in earnest. Holden’s going to fall back to Delta.” Phillips nodded to the big man, who had been sweating in the heat. “Get moving, Sergeant.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Sir, yes sir.” Holden said, hustling north along the gallery.

  Phillips continued. “Mossjaeger’s trapping the entrance. We’ll put up a token fight there, if they come that way, but I’m expecting them to hit the flanks. So I’ll want you and Mossjaeger at Charlie, ready to handle the task I had assigned to Steiner and Smith last time. Think you can do that, sir?”

  “Me? Oh…” Cyrus’ eye widened. Then he grinned. “I’m a Texan. If I couldn’t handle that, my Dad would disown me.”

  “Good,” Phillips nodded. “At some point we might retreat past you. Just keep that in mind.” He shifted to look at Carmina. “We’ll want you and Guiscare hiding in the HQ again. If things go wrong, I’ve got a report in this map case. Deliver it through the breach at exactly eighteen-hundred tomorrow—”

  “No.”

  Phillips stared at Carmina, eyes wide and furious at her refusal. He raised a slightly trembling hand and palmed his face, took a couple of calming breaths. “I don’t have time for this, and by God I’m not gonna get a kid killed,” he said, voice low and heavy.

  “You will not,” Carmina replied. “But this time they will send the wizard. This time they will send the elves.”

  “Yeah, well, they’ll send two less elves.” Phillips’ lips were a thin, satisfied line. “That crazy asshole Mossjaeger took out the two that tried to infiltrate to the north.”

  “Como?” Carmina’s eyes grew huge. “How? They must have been elven rangers!”

  “And he’s an Army Ranger. Though for what it’s worth he said it wasn’t easy. But we don’t need to risk you out in the open, so I’m ordering you—”

  “I’m safe now,” Carmina shook her head as she spoke, fast and urgent. “I know how they think. Elves, I mean. If they just lost two to one, they won’t risk any more until they’ve talked it over. They won’t be back, so if I use magic to hide then only the wizard might see me. And you need my help to survive Jadar! I am not lying, por favor, please believe me! Without magic? Against her? Muerte.”

  Cyrus watched Phillips’ face contort, as the officer listened, holding back fury while Carmina begged.

  “We have no way of stopping Carmina from hiding and doing this anyway,” Cyrus pointed out.

  Phillips’ scowl lengthened, flexing his chin, making the scars there dance.

  “Fine. But you stay the hell behind us young lady. And when sh— stuff hits the fan, you follow orders. Understood?”

  Carmina glared up at him. “I understand.”

  “Good. Now you two, help me get Potts to the HQ. After that I’ll need you to open the gate. We’ll send the report through.” Phillips grabbed Potts under the shoulders and lifted smoothly, keeping the private’s head braced as Cyrus and Guiscare got his feet.

  On the way back, Guiscare spoke up. “Why don’t we send Potts back with the report? We gon’ be opening a gate anyway, it’d get him out of the fire.”

  “We can’t.” Phillips said, sweat rolling down his face as he picked his way carefully through the rubble, keeping Potts as steady as he could.

  “Why not?” Cyrus asked.

  “The portal’s trapped on the other side,” Phillips shook his head. “If anyone comes through it from this side and it’s not between 1800 and 1803, our time, they will die. A report will get through. A human will not.”

  Cyrus almost dropped Potts. “The hell? Why wasn’t I told of this?”

  “On the record, it’s to ensure no enemy wizards infiltrate the facility, or peel that secret from your mind. Off the record, it’s because the CIA is running this op and they don’t like sharing secrets. Even with allies. You don’t like it, you can take it up with Palmer.”

  Cyrus paused as they got to the steps down. “Can’t say that I like the idea that we’ve got such a narrow window to work with. I might have a talk with Palmer. What do you have him doing, anyway?”

  “You tell me,” Phillips said. “I sent him to get you.”

  Carmina looked between them, confused. “But he told me to wake you, Cyrus, and bring you to the Captain. Then he left.”

  Cyrus felt a cold lump start to solidify in his gut. “Palmer? You down there?” he called down the steps.

  Palmer wasn’t down there.

  Neither was the spare gate key.

  Or the scope.

  “That fucker!” Cyrus felt rage shake through his frame. “He had you take me to Phillips instead of him, just to get us both out of there. He had a clear run at stealing everything!”

  “He can’t have got far,” Guiscare said, scowling as he arranged Phillips on a spare cot.

  “We don’t have time to track him down,” Phillips said through clenched teeth. “All we can do is hunker down, prepare for the fight. That sunovabitch played us, and all we can do is hope he didn’t set up any other little surprises.”