“We are from the future. Even farther than Louis Le Prince. We are here to help you.”

He could hear the soft murmuring of the men inside, and the rustle of men pressing their ears to the walls of the log house.

“We brought you this castle. We brought you a victory. We brought out the … Tritons … for you to kill. Why do you act as if we are your enemy?”

The murmuring grew louder, such that Atticus was forced to raise his hand for silence. “Your commander sent only eight fighters to help us,” he said. “Some help you are.”

Cade brought one foot forward, shifting from kneeling into taking a single knee. There was no move to push him down again.

“We are few, yes,” Cade said. “But we could not leave the keep with nobody to defend it. If we fail … the world ends.”

Atticus scoffed. “The same lie our own commanders told us. Leading us to our deaths on a foolhardy assault. I keep my men alive. I care not for this game.”

“But if you win, here, you go back to the keep. Win again, and you go back to…”

He struggled with the Latin word for planet, but Marius finished it for him.

“Home,” Marius said simply.

“Yes,” Cade said.

Atticus laughed. “We have been fighting the Tritons for years. How do eight pathetic fighters make any difference at all? This fort is only good for defense. The catapults on the roof are broken, and the ones we used during that first battle did no more than dent their doors.”

Cade had no answer for that. Or at least, not one he believed. “We have knowledge. Knowledge from the future.”

Atticus brought his face close to Cade’s. “If you can break open their fort, or bring the Tritons into open battle, come talk to me. Otherwise, stay out of sight.”

“But we have only five days!” Cade shouted. “Five days, or we are here forever. All of us.”

Atticus froze. “What did you say?”

“If we don’t kill the Tritons in five days, the gods will abandon us here. This is your only chance to escape.”

His words rang out, leaving the longhouse deathly quiet. Any murmuring in the background had stopped.

Atticus stared at him, a look of shock stamped across his face. Then, it turned into a rictus of anger.

“Lies!” he snarled, gripping Cade’s chin in his hand and shoving him back in disgust. “The same lies our dead leaders told us, to rush us into a battle we could not win.”

He turned to the men, and Cade managed a quick glance over his shoulder. At least fifty legionaries had filed into the longhouse. Enough to spread the word throughout the entire camp.

“This boy is here for his own reasons, and he will say anything to get what he wants,” Atticus barked. “He has no Codex. No proof of what he and his friends are doing here. Any soldier who speaks to any of them will be whipped.”