"Huh?" Floyd caught his jaw dropping, so he snapped it shut.

The city was still there. A living city, where lights now winked into being, and little dark shapes moved over an endless array of bridges, criss-crossing a void that must have been deeper than the Mariana Trench.

It sure looked that way—turquoise mists around the edges and a deepening blue below, as if a black hole had fallen into the ocean.

Muffled noises drifted across from afar, laughing and the shuffling of many feet. What looked like a caravan of people carrying packs on their backs was on the move, headed for the glittering maze of buildings.

"Huh," said Mul. It sounded satisfied, even slightly amused.

The big man stomped past the dying fire to the cave's ledge and waved at Floyd to follow. He swung around. Leela was still sleeping, her head on her smooth arms, a slight smile curving her lips.

Was she dreaming of protocols and life on Mars?

What's there to smile about?

"I can't leave her." Floyd pointed at the snoozing Mars mission commander. He bent over and picked up the last remaining log, which he then dumped onto the fire. Embers sparked and smoke puffed up.

Mul stomped back to Floyd's side and issued what sounded like a string of throaty consonants chasing each other's tails.

"Sorry?" Floyd asked.

On the bed of furs, Leela stretched, mumbled something, and turned her back on the fire.

Despite his apparent age, Mul crouched without effort, looking like a hairy boulder. He might have been rolling his eyes, but with the shadow thrown by his brow ridge, it was hard to tell what was going on in the wizened face underneath.

He pressed his hands together just like El had done.

Floyd tensed.

Uh, oh.

From between the old man's hairy paws rose a delicate tendril of opal smoke, gyrating like a translucent dancer. The smoke swirled and curled into a ball made of moving mists that threw a gentle glow on Mul's face.

The old man stood, opened his hands, and tossed the ball at the ceiling of the rock shelter. There it stuck, pulsating gently.

Mul then returned to the lip of the shelter, where the golden city still filled the view in Escher-like confusion. Bridges and stairs everywhere, crossing each other, leading to—that wasn't a city. That was a monstrous cliff dotted with glittery openings and slashed by horizontal ledges.

A bit like a super upmarket version of the Anasazi cliff dwellings laced with a hefty dose of surrealism. Some of the square structures slotted into the ledges looked like pastel-tainted Bauhaus mansions. Others bore rounded domes, like Greek churches in the Aegean sea. They weren't blue, though.

A seagull screeched past the shelter. So, presumably there was some sea around here somewhere.

A throaty hum filled the shelter, and it took Floyd a moment to suss that Mul was singing.

The seagull returned. This time, it shot straight into the cave.

At least, that must have been the intention. The bird rammed into an invisible obstacle and flumped to the floor.

There it sat, blinking in avine confusion.

Yeah, pal. You and me both.

Mul grinned. He pointed first at the bird, then at the ball.

"Is that a force shield?" Floyd asked. "How did you do that? We still can't make them happen."

Mul tilted his head. He tapped first his lips, then his head.

"You can't understand me? Well, we're in the same boat, then."

El had spoken his language. Odd that this guy couldn't when he could create force shields. With his hands. How cool was that?

An uncomfortable thought ignited in the recesses of Floyd's mind, took shape, and rose to the surface.

"Are you a magician or something? Shit, you still can't hear me."

Mul took a few measured steps and came to a stop. Up close, the guy really was enormous. But he didn't give off threatening vibes at all. Some of the serving crew in the canteen back at the training compound had been scarier, and they'd only been armed with ladles, not magic.

He also smelled...interesting. Of soil, mushrooms, and dried herbs with a bit of sweat mixed in, sure, but it wasn't old. And since Floyd had taken no shower yet, he doubted he'd be as fresh as lilies.

A cold blast buffeted Floyd, accompanied by a faint hissing and an even fainter klaxon screeching something about proximity alerts. Then it was gone.

"He's asking for permission to access your mind," a voice said behind him. It sounded snarky and no, it wasn't Leela's.

Slowly he swung around.

El was warming her hands at the fire, furs, heels at all. From her elbow dangled a small red handbag.

****

"Oh, now you show up," Floyd said.

"Would you like me to disappear again?"

"Not before you explained a few things. Like this." He pointed at the shelter. "And this." He pointed at the glowing city. "And while you're at it, you might introduce me to Mul. He's been a lot more polite than you. And keep your voice down. Leela needs her sleep."

El exposed her strong white teeth. "How sweet. I feel quite the matchmaker"

She swung around and sashayed over to where Mul stood, looking slightly perplexed.

That was interesting. It appeared the two Neanderthals didn't know each other. Fair enough, he didn't know every Tom, Dick, and Harry on this damned overpopulated Earth.

El let rip another endless string of consonants that crawled on top of each other until there was nothing but a verbal tangle.

Mul's response was just as knotted. He kept piercing the air with his index finger and his face flushed dark.

Someone wasn't happy.

El fished in her handbag and handed over something wrapped in a white paper. Mul hesitated, but then ripped off the paper and gulped down whatever she'd given him.

"Having problems?" Floyd asked.

"No," El said.

"Yes." Mul said, sucking on something which didn't help with his pronunciation.

"Ah," Floyd said. "Now it works."

El closed her handbag. "It's much easier to use potions than manipulate reality all the time. Less strain on the system."

Mul huffed and stood at the edge of the shelter. He spoke over his shoulder. "Just because you're from the future, it doesn't mean you're right. Looking at you gives me a pain in the butthole."

"You don't like my handbag?"

"Mammoth dung. I don't like you."

That made two of them. What did the guy just say?

"She's from the future?"

"Yes. So are you, correct?"

"I'm not sure we're from the same future."

"Of course not. You're a plainbrain. You're stuck in reality. Our people left for the Dream a long time ago. Well, seen from your perspective, they did it a long time ago. You witnessed the event last night. I guess that's why she sent you over here." Mul hooked a stubby thumb at a grinning El. "Not sure why, though."

"Because there was one teensie-weensie problem with us entering the Dream, Wiseman Mul."

"And that would be what, Wisewoman El?"

El pursed her mouth and spewed forth another incomprehensible hotchpotch of words.

"Oh," Mul said. "That's...not good."

For the first time, since Floyd had met the high-heeled Neanderthal woman, she looked worried.

"No, it isn't."

(1164/17352)

https://youtu.be/H2rSsyslIig

This chapter is dedicated to fellow ONC author @KellyJBurke whose "Chasing Valhalla" takes Norse myths to a different level.