Emerging from an ancient civil war with only a patchwork of once-powerful technologies, the Qurls are threatened by new weapons in the hands of old enemies. Driven by the guilt of a comradeís death, Mikial reaches out through her own divided heritage to discover the humans behind the guns. The one enemy she didnít expect to face was her own people. The one ally she didnít plan on being saved by was human.
"Ease back," Dalen gasped as they sank. "My stomach canít handle this anymore than the airship can! Look at the right wing."
She did. As Dalen said, there was a ragged puncture dangerously close to the engine nacelle. Behind her, Mikial saw something else that shot hot energy through her body. "Dalen! That little building! It...itís rising off the ground!"
He wrenched around. "What?"
Jagged rock and clumps of greenery shot by beneath them as Mikial swooped for the beckoning brightness of the canyon mouth. "Iím seeing things, right?"
His reply was a shocked monotone. "Itís coming."
"How can it?"
His hand gripped her shoulder hard. "Mikial, do something! Itís right behind us!"
Insane as it seemed, the thing hung just off her tail. What she had first assumed was a tarp pulled over some truck was actually the thingís hull. It looked like a bubble someone had sat onóa bubble made of a dull green metal. It had skids instead of wheels. She saw neither wings nor propellers. There were two figures visible through a sloping windshield. They wore helmets.
"Someoneís opened a side door," Dalen said, his eyes wide. "They have a gun!"
"Surprised?" Mikial hissed as she made a sharp turn, the harness biting into her shoulders as her head rocked to one side. The thing followed.