Finnbogi moaned slightly and his eyes flittered open then closed again. Good, he was starting to come to. Wynefrede scooted closer to him and poked at him with one of her feet, then looked around. The two commandos who were guarding them had automatic rifles in their hand, and were scanning the compound for threats.
“If you spot any of our Royal Season participants, shoot them on sight,” Clinio Lind reminded half of his security team. The other half was circling the compound through the forest, and got the same warning earlier. “We can’t afford to lose them again.”
Wynefrede wasn’t a tiny woman, but she felt like a doll as the commando carried her up the mountain slung over his shoulder. But then again, if their gate allowed them to bring in weapons and military uniforms, then it probably didn’t have any constraints on body types, either. The main Krim entrance gate had a complicated point system for choosing bodies that forced users to make trade-offs between, say, strength and endurance. The commando carrying her didn’t seem to be operating under any physical constraints at all.
“What the hell is this thing?” Ellison weighed the orange plastic gun in his hand. He was standing on the sandy beach, surrounded by Clinio’s security team, the bodies of four of the commandos at their feet. Two were still alive, but wounded.
The commando walking in front of Wynefrede stopped and dropped her down onto the wet rocks. They’d gotten tired of watching her stumble along in her sandals and started carrying her about an hour ago. A rock stabbed her in the side and she cried out, but the commandos ignored her.
“There are six of them,” said Cleeve Freer as the lights on the shore got a little closer. “Or, at least, six of them who are carrying lights.” “Can you guys take them?” Ellison asked.
The Storm Bug sailed into Lamacoln’s protected bay just before a cloud bank rolled in, blocking the light of the moon. The ship’s captain dropped anchor. Ellison had been up on the deck since they first caught sight of the island.
Finnbogi stood up. “We have to get off Krim right this minute,” he said. He and Wynefrede had been sitting behind a rock outcrop, hidden from view, looking at the stars above them and the ocean in front of them. Now his head was visible to anyone who might be looking for them. Wynefrede tried pulling him back down.
