Beyond the Wall of Time by Russell Kirkpatrick

portal?”
    Kilfor nodded. “Someone believes me, at least,” he said. “Except we weren’t carrying it. We’d put it down to change places.
     Heavy thing, a corpse. Almost as heavy carrying as lugging my father to bed after one of his drunken debaucheries. Soon as
     it hit the ground, the thing shook itself, got to its feet and ran off, faster than thought.”
    Lightning flashed, illuminating the entire party. Lenares groaned, at what Noetos could not say.
    “Dead bodies shamble,” Stella’s guardsman said.
    “Seen many, have you?” Kilfor replied to his friend. “Or are you going by the night-stories the old man used to tell us? Remember
     ‘The Shuffling Dead’? Well, this wasn’t like that. The body seemed more alive than when it was alive, if you get my meaning.”
    “I don’t feel well,” said Lenares.
    A young woman stood. For the moment Noetos could not remember her name; she was one of the Falthan party, a quietly spoken
     lass who spent most of her time close to Phemanderac. A scholar like the old Dhaurian, that was as much as Noetos could recall.
     Pretty, though, in a bookish kind of way.
    “So Dryman’s corpse is missing,” she said in a precise voice, “and two men claim to have seen the body come to life. Another
     touched it and blood came off on his hands. Given where we were and what has been happening to us, I see no reason not to
     suspect that Dryman is now alive again.”
    Murmurs from around the gathering. Noetos waited for a lightning flash, just like the story of the seaman’s ghost, but the
     dark sky did not cooperate.
    “What we do not know,” she went on, “is what this means. Is the god back in charge of the body? Or is there some power in
     the House of the Gods that undoes death?”
    Now the sky flashed and the air roared. Around them the rain eased off somewhat. Lenares moaned and put her hands to her head.
    Kilfor smiled gratefully at the woman. “Thank you, Moralye,” he said.
Ah, Moralye
, Noetos thought. He didn’t remember ever hearing her name. “At least someone believes us—uh.”
    The man’s hand dropped to his stomach, where an arrow shaft protruded.
    “Down!” Noetos cried, but people were already moving. Even as the plainsman cried out and slumped to the ground, the others
     dived for whatever cover was available.
    “It’s the hole in the world!” Lenares cried out, then screamed as an arrow took her in the leg.
    They are shooting at sound
, Noetos realised, as Duon called out: “Poisoned arrows! Everyone quiet!”
    Flat on the ground, Noetos heard two shafts whistle over his head, but no thunks. The captain had hopefully been lucky. His
     turn to chance to luck.
    “Into the House of the Gods!” he cried, and dragged the nearest person to her feet. Arathé.
    Lightning flashed, illuminating the entire party. Lenares moaned. Dizziness tickled Noetos’s mind.
Something… is wrong.
    “Dead bodies shamble,” said Robal irrelevantly.
    Come on, man, move, there are poison arrows!
Noetos wanted to shout at the guardsman, but he couldn’t form the words. Time itself felt greasy, stretched out. Broken.
    “Seen many, have you?” Kilfor said. “Or are you going by the night-stories the old man used to tell us? Remember ‘The Shuffling
     Dead’? Well, this wasn’t like that. The body seemed more alive than when it was alive, if you get my meaning.”
    What? This is the strangest feeling.
He knew they were in danger… something about arrows… but he could not quite remember…
    A young woman, Moralye, stood. “So Dryman’s corpse is missing, and two men claim to have seen the body come to life. Another
     touched it and blood came off on his hands. Given where we were and what has been happening to us, I see no reason not to
     suspect that Dryman is now alive again.”
    For some reason Noetos was reminded of the story of the seaman’s ghost. He hadn’t thought of that story for years—or was it
     moments? Why did he feel as though he had