Tales of the Wold Newton Universe (37 page)

He could feel her nod. “I am now,” she said softly, and Gribardsun could tell that she was trying mightily not to cry. Rachel clung tightly to him for just a few seconds, then pulled away and looked at him. She smiled and started to say something more, but suddenly pulled away and screamed. Gribardsun whirled around in time to see one of Lynd’s warriors bring up one of those strange firearms and point it in their direction. The guard’s finger twitched on the trigger, but he did not fire; instead his eyes grew wide as the blade of a broadsword suddenly erupted from the center of his chest.

The guard dropped his gun and fell forward, dead. Behind him stood Gribardsun’s erstwhile opponent, who brought a hand up to his forehead in a gesture of salute. Gribardsun returned the gesture, and the warrior drew his sword from the body of his victim before turning to stand against more of his own kind.

Gribardsun turned back to Rachel. “Take these,” he said, handing her both the gun and the key. “Go release Robert and the others. Then you and he go with them back to their village.”

Rachel shook her head. “I won’t go without you,” she told him.

“Yes you will,” he answered, as he gave Rachel a gentle push in the direction of the captives. “I won’t be far behind, I promise.” As she darted away Gribardsun was waylaid from behind. Gribardsun and his opponent struggled as they rolled around in the dirt, until Gribardsun found himself with his back to the ground and a pair of massive hands around his throat. It was at that moment Gribardsun realized he was fighting Lynd, who had regained consciousness and was determined to rend Gribardsun limb from limb.

Placing his hands around Lynd’s wrists, Gribardsun pulled and finally managed to free himself from the large alien’s grip. He brought one knee up sharply into Lynd’s gut, then kicked Lynd up and over his head. As Lynd landed on his back with a thud, Gribardsun rose to his feet. Weakened slightly by the attempted strangulation, Gribardsun nonetheless rushed forward and brought the fight to Lynd again. As they fought, another of Lynd’s warriors rushed forward to join in the fray—but was prevented from doing so by Gribardsun’s newfound ally, who engaged the warrior as Gribardsun and Lynd continued to fight.

Following Gribardsun’s instructions, Rachel and von Billman worked to release the captive Magdalenians, who wasted little time fleeing the campsite. Rachel and von Billman followed behind them, von Billman pausing long enough to turn and fire a couple of shots to cover their escape before running off into the forest.

Angrily balling his massive hands into fists, Lynd swung at Gribardsun several times but failed to land a blow. Gribardsun punched Lynd in the gut, and as the alien fell forward from the force of the blow, Gribardsun brought his knee up into Lynd’s groin. Lynd fell to his knees and Gribardsun drew back his leg to kick him in the face. But Lynd recovered more quickly than Gribardsun expected, grabbing the time traveler’s leg and flipping him violently into the air. Rolling onto the ground in such a way as to avoid broken bones, Gribardsun quickly jumped up and charged his foe.

Lynd stopped that charge with a powerful swipe of his hand, his nails clawing across Gribardsun’s face in the process. The blow knocked Gribardsun aside and drew blood from the gouge marks across his cheek, but failed to knock him off his feet. He darted around and jumped onto the alien’s back, passing his arms under Lynd’s from behind and clamping his hands on the back of his opponent’s neck in a full nelson.

Gribardsun squeezed in an attempt to press the advantage, but Lynd started spinning around in order to break the Earthman’s hold on him. He finally managed to shake free of Gribardsun, who again tumbled to the ground. The alien was on him in an instant, and the pair rolled around back and forth in the dirt as they continued trading blows.

Eventually, Gribardsun managed to roll over on top of Lynd, at the same time retrieving the hunting knife that Lynd had taken from him. Gribardsun held the knife menacingly in front of Lynd’s face and said in a near-growl, “This belonged to my father.” Then he plunged the knife forward into Lynd’s throat. At almost the exact same moment, his ally dispatched the other warrior with a swing of his sword, severing the warrior’s head from his body. With one knee pressed upon his dead foe’s chest, Gribardsun threw back his head and raised his voice to the sky. The sound that issued forth was like the battle cry of a great beast, and the warrior who now stood beside him looked upon Gribardsun with an expression showing equal parts awe and respect.

“Truly you are a mighty warrior,” he said as Gribardsun rose to his feet, securing his reclaimed scabbard around his own waist.

“As are you,” Gribardsun answered, sliding his knife into the scabbard. “I am glad we fight side by side, rather than against one another.” He held out his hand in a gesture of friendship. The warrior clasped it firmly in his own as Gribardsun said, “My name is John.”

“I am Gar Duno,” the other responded. He was about to speak again when they both heard the sound of footfalls racing away from the camp. They looked up and saw three surviving members of Lynd’s squadron running after Rachel, von Billman and the natives. Gribardsun moved forward to give chase, but stopped as his companion placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Gar Duno quickly bent down and snatched another gun from the holster of one of his dead kinsmen. He stood back up and fired at the warriors, deliberately missing but drawing their attention from the fleeing natives. As the warriors turned and started running back in their direction, Gar snapped, “Quickly, we must go!”

The two raced into the forest, heading in the opposite direction from the path that Rachel and the others had taken. Although slightly fatigued from the battle, they continued running for roughly two miles and managed to put some space between them and their pursuers, who continued the chase despite losing ground. Gribardsun could still hear the warriors following them even though they were no longer in sight.

He and Gar slowed down to rest for a moment. Glancing around at their surroundings, Gar spied a natural path through the woods that veered around a large rock formation and back in the general direction they had come from. He pointed out the path to Gribardsun.

“Go this way,” Gar directed. “The natives’ village is about a day’s march from here. If I am right, you should rejoin your friends in less than half that time.”

“What about you?” Gribardsun queried.

In response Gar motioned back toward the warriors who were chasing them. “I’ll remain here long enough to draw them in the other direction, to allow you to make good your escape. I know this area better than they do. In time they will grow weary of the chase, and will return to our city.”

“Good idea,” Gribardsun said. “Once you’ve lost them you can make your way back and join us as well.”

Gar shook his head. “You and your friends may be strangers here, but the natives are your people,” he said. “I am an outcast among my people, but I doubt I would be accepted among yours.”

“I accept you,” Gribardsun told him. “That should be enough.”

“Perhaps, in time, it will be,” Gar answered with a shrug. “For now that should not concern you. When those warriors return home having lost Teran Lynd, most of his command,
and
a new group of slaves, the consequences will not be good for the natives. They will look to you for leadership—and protection. You must convince them to relocate, to find a place where they can be safe. Such a place may well not exist, but you must try. Teran Lynd merely intended to subjugate these people. After today it is unlikely that whoever succeeds him as the emperor’s emissary will be quite as merciful. I fear you have made a dangerous enemy today, my friend.”

“So it would seem,” Gribardsun acknowledged, recalling a lifetime of exploits that had led him to this moment in time—or, perhaps more appropriately under the circumstances, out of time. “I have made dangerous enemies before, and have lived to tell the tale,” he said. “If it is indeed my destiny to remain here among these people, I will do what I can to help them. If I must make war to do so, I shall.”

Gar smiled and clasped his hands upon Gribardsun’s shoulders. “If that day should come, I pray to my gods that Gar Duno is there to battle at your side again.” With that he glanced back in the direction they had come from. In the distance they could hear the pursuing warriors coming closer toward them. “Now go, friend John. Go!” Gribardsun nodded in silent thanks, then turned and began the trek to rejoin his comrades.

* * *

The afternoon sun was just preparing to make its descent when Gribardsun caught up with Rachel, von Billman and the Magdalenians. They had stopped to rest and were discussing the idea of making camp for the night when Rachel happened to look up and saw Gribardsun walking toward them. She stood up and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his muscular frame and hugging him close. She did not speak at first, but the tears she had fought back earlier finally spilled from her eyes.

Gribardsun held her for a moment, then gently released her and stepped back. “I’m sorry about Drummond,” he told her.

Rachel nodded in acknowledgment. “He was a good man,” she said. “We’d had our problems over the past year or so; I think he hoped being part of this project would bring us closer together. I guess we’ll never know...”

Just then von Billman came forward to join them. “Welcome back, John,” he said. As he shook Gribardsun’s hand a sad smile worked its way across his features. “I almost said ‘welcome home.’ I suppose that’s what it is now, isn’t it?”

Gribardsun nodded. “I suppose so,” he said. He told them of how he and Gar Duno had acted as decoys to help the others escape, of the flight into the jungle, and Gar’s admonition regarding the natives’ safety.

A mournful expression crossed Rachel’s face. “What’s to become of us?” she asked.

“We survive,” Gribardsun answered simply. “With the timeship destroyed we cannot return; everything and everyone we left behind are lost to us. As much as it pains us, that is the reality we face. We can accept it and move forward, or give in to despair. The latter has never been an option in my life and I do not plan to make it one now.”

Rachel reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “In that case,” she said, hoping to exhibit a confidence she did not yet truly feel, “we face reality together.”

“Agreed,” von Billman stated. He turned to Gribardsun and asked, “So where do we begin?”

“By leading our new friends to safety, and doing what we can to help them remain free,” Gribardsun said. “Gar was correct when he warned that the slavers are bound to strike back. Simply returning these people to their village will not be enough to keep them out of harm’s way. We must do what we can to assist them: relocate the tribe, teach them to better protect themselves, whatever it takes.”

“But how much can we do, realistically?” Rachel inquired. “There are only the three of us. And any tools or equipment we might have put to use were lost when the ship was destroyed.”

“True,” Gribardsun admitted. “But we still have one very important weapon at our disposal, something that no one else here can lay claim to: millions of years’ worth of knowledge. The crew of the
H.
G.
Wells I
was selected in part because we represented the top minds of our era. What better way to put that talent to use? And in the process, perhaps we can find the answers to the questions we’ve found ourselves faced with. To start with: where are we? I’m not completely convinced we arrived at our planned destination. We all felt something not quite right occurred in transit. But what happened, and why?

“Then there is the matter of the slavers. I agree with your assessment, Robert, that they have come here from some other planet. But from where? And why? And if this is truly 12,000
B.C
., how does a band of invading aliens speak an Earth language that will not exist for thousands of years? Our survival—and that of our hosts—could well depend upon the answers.”

Gribardsun fell silent then, and for the briefest of moments he felt a sense of grief for the friends and family left behind. But the tide of sorrow passed as quickly as it came. “There is much to do,” he told his friends, “but first we must rest and we must eat. I’ll find some food. You two help set up a temporary camp, but make sure our new friends understand that we cannot stay long if they are to remain safe. I’ll be back within the hour.”

With that he drew his knife and turned to march back off into the woods. Rachel took a single step after him, but stopped and called out. “Hurry back, John,” she said as he turned back to face her. “Please.”

“I will,” he told her. Then he turned again and was gone.

Rachel stood there for a moment, looking at the place where she had last seen him and hoping she would be able to summon the courage she knew Gribardsun would expect of her. She took a deep breath and turned to help von Billman, who was already busy trying to explain the situation to several of the Magdalenians.

And thus did their future begin...

In Philip José Farmer’s novel
Time’s Last Gift,
a scientific research team is transported from 2070
A.D.
back in time to 12,000
B.C.
on a four-year expedition. However, at the end of the novel, the leader of the team decides to stay behind and not return with the group. He will meet them again in future, preferring to take the long way back. Thus, the jungle lord John Gribardsun, an immortal, looks forward to 14,000 years of adventure on an uncrowded world, similar to the Africa he knew as a child in the late nineteenth-century.

In his time, Gribardsun was known as the Khokarsan the god of plants, bronze, and Time; as the historical Hercules; and as Quetzalcoatl, among others.

Now Peri, the last of the Guarany Indians, from José de Alencar’s 1857 Brazilian novel
O Guarani,
has been added to the list.

The dosimeter, a small square that would darken in the presence of ionizing radiation, he had made from his cache of photographic film. Quite easy. The fluorescent lamp had been trickier.