when I was picking them off.”
The bodies of Harald and Inny were lying near the portal and Athena was searching through their belongings. Having found what she was looking for—the tracking device—she stood up and pointed.
“He’s over there to the north. Probably a good way off, because the signal is fairly weak.”
“The scout that came into Saga, you mean?” asked Ghost.
“Right.”
“I think I see a road, or a river, where there’s a gap in the hills.” B.E. was looking through the telescopic sights of his pulse rifle in the direction Athena was pointing. At this, Cindella rummaged in a pouch and produced a small box, the velvet-lined interior of which held two large glass lenses. More magic, evidently, for soon after she put them on, Erik was able to give a report.
“It is a road. And there are people on it; more of those barbarian horsemen, riding this way.”
Before anyone could respond, a distinct droning sound, like that of a bee, could be heard from the same direction.
“Milan, Athena, get back into Saga now, please. I think the rest of us should move out of here.” Ghost looked about them for some cover to hide in.
“I want to stay,” said Milan determinedly.
“Me, too.”
“Thanks, both of you, but look.” Ghost pointed at the shattered bodies of the avatars of Inny and Harald. “That could be you.”
By now there was a dark spot visible in the section of the sky from which the ominous deep sound was coming. It was moving fast.
“There’s more coming! A lot more,” cried Erik. “Tanks and personnel carriers full of soldiers are right behind the riders. We really have to run for it now. Milan, Athena—Ghost is right; you should go back now while you can.” Cindella began to move toward a line of trees, but paused because Milan was not budging.
“Look, Ghost, we’ve been through a lot together. I like you pretty much more than anyone else I know—with the possible exception of Athena—and I owe you. So if I die, I die, but I’m coming along.”
“And while I agree with those sentiments”—Athena raised her voice—“the real case for us staying is more pragmatic than the words of this romantic. You might need our skills.”
“Please. Go back,” urged Ghost.
“Get down!” shouted Anonemuss, ducking in beside a truck. Frighteningly swift, the black dot in the sky had become a plane, diving straight toward them, with a new sound audible despite the angry roaring noise of its engines: that of bullets hammering out and tearing up the hill in lines that rushed toward them.
Only Ghost remained on her feet, concentrating, slowing time. Two impact lines came racing along the ground at the ferocious speed of the airplane. But just as they seemed set to smash into her body, the bullet tracks disappeared. While the noise of the plane’s machine guns was still loud in her ears, the bullets were no longer hitting the ground; instead, they were streaming through the air, curving away above her. Ghost turned, the wind from the passage of the plane blowing her hair all around her head, and guided the lines of bullets on up into the sky with movements of her arms. A moment later the plane blew apart in a ball of flame: its bullets, redirected by Ghost, had found the fuel tank. Debris fell around them as the brightness of the explosion slowly faded from her eyes.
“Whether we stay or go, we have to move right now. There will be more of those.” Anonemuss began running down the hill toward the nearest cover: that provided by a copse. Milan and Athena ran after him. Cindella was hesitating.
“What is it?” asked B.E. “We need to move.”
“Inny. If we let them take the portal back, she’ll never get through.” Erik spoke with heartfelt regret. “The same with Harald.”
“We’ve no choice.” B.E. shouldered his pulse rifle and began to run after the others. A moment later, swift as a diving hawk, Cindella raced past him.
It was hard for Ghost to accept Milan
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