Wordless, unable to speak, Craig again embraced her.
Only then Bukal was talking, breaking in upon them. "The ourobos come closer," he clipped. "There's no time to waste. My people need me."
Spinning their discs, the three took to the air and ranged north till they reached the river and the village.
The village. Tension crawled through it now, lined on every face, reflected in every movement. Men, women, children—they crowded round as the trio stepped from their discs.
Bukal searched the frightened faces. "What is it?"
"New nests of ourobos!" a man burst out; and another croaked, "Already, the djevodas are in flight. By tonight—"
He broke off. There was no need to say more.
"Then ... we have no choice." Bukal shrugged, bronzed shoulders heavy. "We must join the others along the barrier."
"Must we?" This from a woman. "Must we, Bukal—when we hold Zenaor's daughter as our prisoner?"
Taut silence echoed, sudden as summer thunder.