Bifrost

I continued to watch from my sandskimmer at a safe distance. The mainland tourist who made himself comfortable in the seat beside me had slumped over minutes ago for snooze. Thank goodness for small favors. I could not let anything distract me from what transpired.

It was a breathtaking sight. The sands shook from the thunder of the radiant velocipedes as they roared from the shining column of silver. Twenty-four of them stopped in unison in tight formation as the column from which they escaped blinked out of existence, leaving a momentary trail in the eye like a bolt of lightning that struck close-by.

Instead of opening their vehicles, they dissolved into light and then nothingness around them as they stood. Most of them had black outfits, save for a few of the visibly attractive ones who were clad in white. But all of them had veins of energy in primary colors coursing over their clothing, matching the vehicles they had driven. They also had glowing discs fastened to their backs, which I conjectured were their power sources. The one with the crimson suit stood taller than the rest. Before he lifted his visor I recognized him as my creation.

Bloodwing had created an image of himself in the center of where the aperture stood. Even though he was in fact disassembled and spread around where the aperture had been. All of the newcomers, including Ash, knelt before their liberator.

"Welcome to Earth, brave Digital Knights! I shall graciously..."

I was distracted by a blast of cold air. Huge snowflakes pressed to my skin and stung as they melted. But we were in the desert of Cala Mondrago! What sorcery was this?

One of the knights stood and turned away from the Elder, and drew a baton that crackled with power. "Recognizers spotted!", he shouted in a voice so modulated it was barely decipherable.

What on Earth was a Recognizer, I thought. The tourist woke with a start and pointed upwards.

"Dude! Spaceships with giant chicken legs and laser guns!"

I flipped the switch on my console, engaging the twin Tesla turbines in the rear of the sandskimmer with a flash and a hiss.

"How astute. Please put on your seatbelt."

I floored the accelerator. Mr. Bishop was trying to make another observation at the top of his lungs, but I was too busy weaving madly through metallic claws and angles of burning light to ask him to repeat.