5
Negotiation
Present Time - Day 1
Lincoln dashed forward and picked up the broad-bladed axe one of the men had dropped in a frenzied rush to get back onto his bison.
Four camels came into view, pulling a flat cart flanked by Neanderthals on foot. Seconds later, another camel-drawn cart appeared behind it.
The bison-riding humans were still trying to get situated on their mounts, but their wolves had no such constraints. The four remaining creatures charged toward the newcomers.
Shouting and dashing about in apparent confusion, some of the nandups scurried back, while others rushed forward to meet the attacking wolves. Lincoln then realized the movements were far more coordinated than he’d thought. As he watched, the leading defenders instantly pulled short swords from their belts. Then they each raised one arm just as the wolves closed the last few yards of distance and launched themselves at the nandups. The creatures’ teeth clamped onto the nandups’ arms, which were covered in massively-padded sleeves. The defenders thrust their short swords into the wolves’ chests while agilely stepping to the side to avoid being knocked off their feet.
All four of the wolves were now writhing on the ground and coughing up blood, unable to even yelp or howl. The second line of nandups stepped forward in unison and thrust metal-tipped spears into the creatures to finish them off.
The bison riders, all eight of them, let out enraged shouts and goaded their mounts into charging the Neanderthals. Hooves thundered against the ground as they picked up speed, apparently intending to plow directly into the more numerous nandups and their carts.
Skyra grabbed Lincoln’s arm. “We must run.”
“Go, go, go!” Derek growled as they made a run for the nearest brush-covered hill.
Lincoln turned to look back as he started up the hillside. A tree and several tall saguaros partially blocked his view, but what he did see, as well as the horrifying sounds he heard, indicated the confrontation had become a full-blown battle. Screams of fury and pain intermingled with clashing weapons and pounding hooves. A bison reared up on its hind feet then collapsed onto its back on top of its rider. An axe, like the one in Lincoln’s hand, flew end-over-end and struck either a human or a Neanderthal, resulting in a pitiful cry as the victim fell. Clouds of dust were beginning to enshroud the entire scene.
“Hurry up, Lincoln!” Jazzlyn cried. She and the others, including Ripple, were almost to the top of the slope.
“Wait a second!” Lincoln said as he cleared the crest of the hill. He stopped and took up a position where he could look back without being seen by the nandups or humans.
The others came back and crouched beside him.
Virgil said, “You’re thinking of the T3, aren’t you?”
Lincoln nodded. Whoever survived the battle would see the T3 and the duffel bags beside it. The T3, which was the size of an office desk, had been designed to look vaguely like a natural boulder, but it didn’t match the color of the gravel and rocks here.
“If those bolups kill the nandups, they will come for us,” Skyra said. “We must run far away.”
Lincoln shook his head. “The T3 is our only way out of here. Let’s at least see what happens. Maybe we’ll have a chance to go back, get it ready, and jump to a new place.”
They crouched in silence, watching as the shouts and clanging of weapons steadily diminished. Within a few minutes the area was silent. Lincoln could see figures walking back and forth beside the two carts, but the leafy branches of a tree made it hard to tell what they were doing. One of the figures swung an axe at something on the ground, producing a faint but sickening chunk.
Lincoln studied the weapon he’d collected. Its handle was polished wood, etched with some kind of design. He brought it closer to his face. The design was a spiderweb, encircling the entire handle all the way to the blade. The blade itself was metal, perhaps steel, or at least bronze. Its workmanship was far from perfect—numerous rough spots and blemishes gave it a rustic, almost primitive appearance. One side of the blade was fashioned into a chisel-like stabbing tool, while the other side was a broad axe with at least ten inches of sharpened edge.
He turned the weapon over and looked at the butt end of the handle. Nailed into the wood was a surprisingly-intricate metal ornament. There could be no mistaking it—the ornament was in the shape of a spider.
“I have never seen a khul like this,” Skyra said. She was crouched beside him, staring at the battle axe. She touched the blade then ran two fingers over the sharpened edge. “I do not like this khul. It is too sharp. If I put it in the sling on my back, it would cut me while I am sleeping.”
Lincoln touched the blade edge. “I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep on it. I mean, you could.... well, you’re right. It’s too dangerous.”
“Oh, no.” Jazzlyn said. “Don’t you even think about touching that.”
Lincoln followed her gaze to the scene below. At least a dozen figures were now standing around the T3, obviously curious about it. Several of them kneeled beside the duffel bags and began pushing and pulling as if trying to get them open. It was only a matter of time before they figured out the zippers.
“That’s it, man,” Derek said. “We’re gonna be stuck in this hellhole forever. Or in our case, until we die within the next few hours—or minutes.”
Lincoln silently willed the figures to leave the duffel bags and go on about their business. The chances of that, though, were approximately zero. “Be patient,” he said. “Maybe they’ll be confused by the gear and just leave it alone.”
One of the figures stepped over to the T3 and lifted the end of it off the ground. Faint voices drifted up the hillside as they exchanged words. Then the entire group gathered around the device, picked it up, and carried it to one of the carts.
Derek pounded his knee. “Oh, man. We’re screwed!”
Ripple spoke up. “Those people are nandups—Neanderthals. Perhaps Skyra can approach them without provoking their ire. I can accompany her, with the objective of quickly processing enough of their language to initiate rudimentary negotiations. With any luck, we may convince them to return your property.”
Lincoln glanced at the drone, trying to decide whether to laugh at the plan or give it serious consideration. Whatever he decided to do, it would have to be quick. The Neanderthals would haul away the T3 at any moment.
Skyra turned to Lincoln. “You do not want the nandups to take your T3.”
He shook his head. “If they take it, we’ll never be able to leave this place.”
She rose to her full height, khul in hand. “I will stop them.” She stepped away and started down the hillside.
“I will provide assistance,” Ripple said, following her.
Lincoln moaned and rubbed his eyes. This wasn’t likely to end well. These nandups were appallingly brutal. They would probably kill Skyra before Ripple even began to analyze their language.
“I don’t know about this, Lincoln,” Jazzlyn said. “Maybe we should stop her.”
Lincoln stood up. “Skyra, wait. Let’s think about this.”
She paused and looked back.
Beyond her, the camel-drawn carts started moving.