Dan Shanahan didn't know how fast he was running. He expected it to be faster than a normal human. He knew he was running as long as any marathon runner as the miles went by.

How long could he keep up the pace? He hadn't expected that to be a question when he first started toward the tower. He thought he might need to get something to eat. He had already gone through the fruit he had filched from the outdoor market.

A wall rose as he ran toward the edge of the plate he was on. He would have to cross another bridge and find a way up that white expanse. Then he could head for the tower.

He had no idea what could cause rough hexagons to form with space between them. He only considered things as he tried to think where he could go when he got Wyndham back.

They would need shelter until he had a better plan than the one he had now. Kill them all meant nothing if he couldn't reach them all.

He needed to recon the area before he charged in. He needed to know who he was dealing with at the tower. He had to figure out ways to deal with them when he knew what their abilities were.

A pistol with plenty of ammunition would be so handy when he did catch up with the other Weapons.

How many of them were bulletproof?

Shanahan saw a small convoy of wagons being pulled by horses toward the edge of the hexagon. He wondered if he could use them for cover to get past the border guards.

He ran until he was close enough to catch them by walking. He joined the back of the train, moving along on foot.

Now he just had to get across to the other hexagon and catch up with Wyndham and her kidnappers.

He walked with the train. He didn't say anything. He didn't want to be too friendly. He didn't have answers to any questions.

And the answers he did have weren't going to make people accept him. He would think anyone claiming to be from another world a fraud himself.

The caravan reached a bridge with four towers. The guards went over the wagons, checking each one for hidden goods. Finally the guard captain demanded a price to cross the bridge. The head of the wagon train handed over a clinking bag.

Shanahan watched everything from the back of the wagon train. His hands were in his pockets. He had decided that if he was accosted, he would try to throw anyone facing him over the edge of the hexagon.

He couldn't afford to be stopped by a bunch of greedy cops who thought they could do whatever they wanted because they had big knives hanging from their belts.

The horses started across the bridge. People walked beside them, hands on their necks. Shanahan figured the natural chasm spooked the horses without someone to lead them.

“Taxes?,” a soldier said to Shanahan as he stepped on the edge of the bridge. “I don't remember you paying anything.”

Shanahan looked at the soldier. The man was close enough to touch.

“You have been paid once,” Shanahan said in a low voice. “Don't get greedy.”

The soldier went for the blade at his hip. A fist to the open face of his helmet froze him in place as the pain shot through the bones in the front of his skull. He staggered back with blood dripping from a mashed nose and broken lips.

Shanahan swept his other arm around. His open hand sent the man flipping through the air.

The other guards went for their swords as their comrade hit the ground on his back. They started shouting, issuing conflicting commands to Shanahan.

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“Hold on,” said Shanahan. He held up his hands. “Hold on. He got greedy. Don't get hurt because someone couldn't control themselves.”

His words did not calm the soldiers down.

The guards formed a semicircle so he couldn't run off the bridge to solid ground on their side of the towers. They held their weapons at the ready. One of them with a sideways hourglass on the front of his armor stepped to the edge of the bridge.

“You will surrender to the authority given me by the Brotherhood,” said the captain. “No one can attack a guard in the course of his duties and escape justice.”

Shanahan glanced over his shoulder. The wagons still rolled toward the other end of the bridge. All he had to do was outrun the guards on this side, and get through the guards on the other side.

Would they drop the portcullis to try to hold him for their counterparts? That was the big question. How much cooperation did the border guards give each other?

He decided to hold on until the caravan got more than halfway across. Then he would try to race down to the other side of the bridge and try to get through the towers on the other side of the chasm.

If they came after him, he would see if the Brotherhood had given them something to let them fly.

Shanahan backed away from the crowd. He wanted them to come out on the stone structure. That would give him an advantage that would squeeze their numbers together while he could move freely.

The captain looked at his soldiers. They knew the risks. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing. Did they want to try to arrest someone leaving their country for another?

None of them seemed to want to try their hand at it.

Shanahan moved away from them slowly. He didn't want to encourage them to keep coming if they wanted to back off.

He snorted black smoke from his nose as he moved away from the confrontation. The soldiers took a step back too.

Shanahan walked down the bridge. He kept an eye on the soldiers on either end as he moved. He felt that he had a handle on things. If any of the powers had been present, it would have been a different story.

The horse he had taken from his enemy had given him an extra something. It wouldn't stop a lightning bolt.

The wagons blocked the other end of the bridge. He could see the soldiers talking to the head of the train. A negative confirmation seemed to be going on from what he could see.

He would have to improvise something now.

Shanahan raced down the bridge, sprinting to the other end. The soldiers for the powers seemed to be moving in slow motion as he raced toward the rear of the last wagon. They were trying to cut him off from what he could see.

He stepped on the right rear wheel of the last wagon. Each wagon was essentially an open rectangle of wood with a bench in the front for the driver to sit on. Some of them had walls and a roof for a mobile residence instead of a simple transport for cargo. The last wagon was one of the four houses on wheels.

Shanahan used the boost to hop on the roof of the wagon. He leaped from the roof to the next wagon. He ran to the front of that, stepping over cargo to get to the driver's bench to run down the backs of the horses to the next wagon. He made his way to the end of the bridge with the soldiers trying to keep pace with him and failing.

He jumped down from the lead wagon and ran for the wall. The soldiers tried to catch him, but he reached the wall before they could get clear of the towers. He started climbing as fast as possible.

He looked down. The soldiers watched him from below. He wondered if they were going to get horses and try to chase him down.

He was grateful no one seemed to have invented the bow. A good shot with an arrow would have ruined his day.

Shanahan jumped and grabbed the edge of the mesa top. He pulled himself up on the flat land and looked for the tower. How long did he have before someone relayed the message that he was in town.

He paused for a moment to look behind him. The soldiers stood below. They waved the wagons through, and pointed them to a wider path further along the edge of the hexagon.

Shanahan pointed himself at the tower and started running. He didn't have long before night fall. He wanted to be in a place where he could look at things before he started planning his break-in.

He definitely needed to know where Wyndham was before he started looking for her inside the tower. He wanted to keep his visibility down until he could get away with killing the others.

Then they had to figure out how to get home. Wyndham would know that better than he did.

She better be alive after all this. He didn't want to break in, and the locals had already killed her.

Shanahan ran toward the trees that hid the base of the tower from him. Once he was moving through that, he would be hidden from view from above. It was too bad about the caravan. He could have sponged some food off of them as long as they hadn't known what he was doing with them.

Maybe he could get something from the tower if he got there and was able to get through their security.

He wasn't that impressed with what he had seen so far. He wondered how long it had been since the rank and file had been caught up in a genuine fight.

He expected the big guys did most of the fighting. When someone could slice through anything with a mental weapon, ordinary guys in armor would have to pile on if they wanted to get out of the fight alive.

He focused on his running and headed into the trees.

He could feel the clock ticking.