“No, we can’t run yet,” Pehr said, but he began to walk with her again. “I don’t want you missing something you should see and losing track of where we are.”
“Then let us at least keep walking,” Tasha pleaded, and Pehr nodded.
Side by side, the two continued their journey to the center of the city. As they walked, the last vestiges of sunset began to fade from the sky.
* * *
When the first of the things appeared before them, both Pehr and Tasha stopped short – not in fear or awe, but simply out of curiosity.
Only moments after the last of the sunset faded behind the edge of the mountains, something scurried from a low, dark hole in the gutter at the edge of the street. It was small, perhaps the size of a rabbit, and made of metal, but it had six spindly legs. These limbs moved asynchronously, and Pehr found the effect oddly organic and highly disturbing; spiders moved like this, their legs not really in sync, and there was something about it that was profoundly alien and repulsive to him.
Tasha must have felt it, too; standing beside him, she drew in a quick breath and, in a voice barely more than the sound of air passing her lips, whispered, “Oh … how awful!”
The thing took no notice of them, at least not to begin with, and Pehr watched as it clambered up, skittering across the stone expanse between the street’s edge and the grass that surrounded the nearest structure. When it reached the grass it stopped, its body bobbing gently up and down on its long legs. Short, sharp blades sprung out from its underside. These began to whirl, creating first a faint hum and then a high-pitched whine.
The thing began marching in a straight line along what must have been the edge of the property. Any blade of grass that had reached a height greater than that of the thing’s thorax – Pehr couldn't stop thinking of it as some strange metal insect – was lopped off and cast aside. As they watched, it reached the end of its march, turned, sidestepped, and made its way back toward them, moving neatly alongside the swatch it had already cut.
This went on for a minute or two, the thing lumbering back and forth, and then Tasha turned to Pehr and said, “I don’t think it cares about us …”
Before she had even finished her sentence, Pehr knew it was a mistake. At her first word, the thing stopped dead in its tracks, legs bent, body held low to the ground. It swiveled to face them and began making a high-pitched chirruping noise that clearly communicated disapproval.
“Oh, no,” Tasha said, and then the little metal bug charged them, its blades still spinning furiously. When it reached the edge of the curb, it leapt. It flew through the air, legs thrown back, leading with the sharp blades that whirled below its belly. Pehr found himself scrambling backward, pulling with frantic urgency at the cord that would release the club bound to his back.
The club came lose and Pehr grasped its handle with his right hand. Just as the thing began its descent from the apex of its leap, he brought the club around in a wide arc from behind his back, catching the creature. The thing’s chassis caved inward. Pehr saw a flash of light come from inside it and smelled something acrid in the air even before the creature hit the ground and shattered into dozens of pieces. One of its tiny metal blades went whickering past Pehr and he heard Tasha cry out. Turning to check on her, he saw that the piece of metal had sliced open the side of her throat. It was not a vital wound, but he did not doubt that it was painful.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
Tasha nodded, holding her hand against her neck. Pehr could see blood seeping through her fingers. “It hurts, but better this than having that … that thing land on my face!”
“There will be more of them,” Pehr said, and even as he spoke he heard the first chirrups of others, coming from every direction. These first sounds were soon answered by others, and still others, and the creatures’ alarm was evident. Intruders had been discovered and they represented a threat.
“We need to be going,” Pehr said.
“Yes, all right,” Tasha said. She took her hand away from her throat and stared at the blood in surprise and alarm for a moment before rubbing it on the hide breeches she was wearing.
“We won’t be safe in these ruins,” Pehr said. “We must get to the stone buildings in the city center.”
“Yes, we—”
“Can you run?” Pehr asked, looking out into the dimly illuminated street past her.
“Of course, but I thought you didn’t—”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Pehr said, and he pointed. Tasha turned to look behind herself and cried out in shock. Emerging into the street was not one or two more of the creatures, not a dozen, but a throbbing mass of hundreds.
“Oh, no …” Tasha said again in a breathless voice, and then Pehr grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around in the right direction.
“Go!” he shouted, and taking her hand, he began to run, pulling her along. Behind him, the things at the front of the pack sounded a shrill noise of alarm. Pehr could hear the sound of their blades spinning up, and the noise of their tiny, asynchronous legs skittering along. Picking up speed. Beginning the chase.
Chapter 19
Certain death clambered after them. The things were small but startlingly fast, and there were so very many of them. Every time Pehr looked back it seemed as though their number had doubled, and within only a minute or so of running he was sure that a thousand or more of the creatures were chasing them. The whine of their blades filled the entire night; the only other sound Pehr could hear was his and Tasha’s breathing. Pehr gave silent thanks to the Gods that both of them were in excellent shape and good runners.
This is what happened, he thought. This is what happened to the ones that Tasha called parasites. These little metal insects rebelled against them one night, and they had no choice but to flee.
He could see it in his mind’s eye. Children, the elderly, the sick and infirm falling behind and being slashed to ribbons by constructions that had previously existed merely to cut the grass. It was sick, and insane, and almost funny in its grim way; the parasites had inherited the technology from some distant and long-departed ancestor race, and they’d been unable to do anything when the creatures stopped functioning as expected. The loss of this huge and beautiful work of man and all that it held … because of some ill-tempered gardening insects. If Pehr could have spared the breath, he would have laughed out loud at the very horror of it.
“Left!” Tasha cried, and they veered around the corner of a building, the walls of which must once have been made of the substance that lay in tiny crystals at its base. The street ahead of them was empty, and at the far end of it he could see the domed building with the pointing statue atop it. Pehr risked a look back and saw the first few creatures rounding the corner, making excited chittering noises, the whine of their spinning blades ever-present. He thought that he and Tasha might be able to gain some space now that they had a straight line—
“Pehr! Pehr! Pehr!” Tasha shrieked, and he swung his head back around to see that the street ahead of them was flooding with metal insects. Within moments, the way forward was completely blocked, the advancing mass only a hundred strides ahead.
“Down there!” Pehr shouted, and they turned into a tight and claustrophobic space between two buildings. Pehr had an instant of terrible premonition – he had led them right into a dead end – and then shoved it from his mind. They ran, twisting and turning through the dark and trying to keep their footing. It came as some relief when Pehr saw a purple-white glow ahead that told him this path exited back out into the streets.
They emerged from the alley and instinctively turned in the direction that would continue to take them away from the mob in pursuit. After a moment, Pehr realized this was a problem, and in another instant Tasha voiced his concerns.
“We’re going the wrong way!”
Tasha was right, and Pehr knew they had change course. The domed building was back and to their left. If they acted quickly, they might be able to circumnavigate the
growing mass of gardeners.
“Turn here!” Pehr shouted, and Tasha obeyed. Pehr could hear a chorus of chirrups from not far away; the mass of creatures had nearly caught up with them. He could see the front-runners beginning to fill up the street ahead of them.
“I can’t … run like this … much longer …” Tasha panted.
Pehr was tiring, too. His lungs were beginning to burn, his muscles to ache.
“It must be now!” he cried. “Give it all you have, right now, or we’ll never break through!”
They were running directly at a group of perhaps thirty of the deadly little things, but there was no choice; the buildings at the city’s center were sturdy enough to shelter them. The ones by which they now ran were not, as was evidenced by the growing number of gardeners pouring forth from the ruins.
“This is mad!” Tasha cried, but even so she charged forward, running as fast and as hard as she could, her breathing loud and ragged. Pehr began to sprint as well, overtaking her, holding his club at the ready. When the first of the creatures leapt, Pehr batted it away without stopping. He glanced over as he heard Tasha cry out. She narrowly avoided a leaping gardener, ducking at the last moment and continuing to run.
Then they were within the mass, surrounded by the whirring, shrieking noise of what seemed a thousand spinning blades. The metal creatures flew through the air about them and skittered underfoot, as if they had plunged into the midst of a cloud of gigantic, homicidal grasshoppers. Pehr knocked more out of the air, stomped on others, and saw Tasha doing the same, flailing her walking stick around like a weapon.
Something hit his back and left a streak of pain there, and he shouted. Tasha, too, cried out, and Pehr saw that one of the creatures had opened a cut on the upper part of her right arm. She lost her grip on her stick and it clattered to the ground. Tasha gave a wail of despair but made no attempt to turn around. Her precious keepsake would have to stand sacrifice for the sake of their lives.
He wondered how long it would be until a gardener timed its jump right and landed, blades-first, on his face, but in another moment they had broken through. Pehr risked a glance behind him and saw that the creatures, now being joined by the bulk of the horde, were turning themselves around and beginning pursuit anew.
Tasha made a noise of agony and Pehr spun to look at her, slowing just a bit. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Can’t breathe!” Tasha gasped. She, too, slowed from her top speed but managed to find the strength to continue running. They turned twice and were back on the street leading to the domed building, now tantalizingly close, but the mass of creatures had followed and was gaining ground. Both he and Tasha were flagging.
“Just a little further!” He managed, hoping to encourage her to use the last of her reserves. He could see the doors on the domed building, large and heavy and intact. They would keep the gardeners out. They must.
“Look out!” Tasha managed, pointing wildly, and Pehr glanced over just in time to see a handful of the creatures leap from in between two buildings. Whether the things had lain in wait or simply gotten lucky Pehr couldn't say, but their timing was impeccable. He hauled the club around, already knowing that he was too late.
The lead creature sprung at Tasha, and Pehr had no choice but to stick his other, closer hand out and swat it away. The blades cut into the side of his palm, and his hand felt suddenly as if he had stuck it into the middle of a burning fire. He snarled in anger and pain, but kept moving.
“Help!” Tasha cried, still running as well, slightly ahead of him. A screeching, buzzing metal insect was already in mid-air, set on a course that would take off half of her face. Pehr swung his club, its length just barely enough, and dealt the creature a glancing blow that knocked it off course. It hit the ground in front of Tasha’s feet, and she stomped on it with one heavy, leather boot as she ran.
There were three more still to deal with, one almost upon them, but Pehr was now locked in on it. When it leapt, Pehr came to a complete halt, swung the mace two-handed, and caught the thing in mid-air. It went rocketing off into the black night, and Pehr had to fight the urge to stop and watch, satisfied, as it disappeared from view.
The other two metal insects were still running parallel to them, but hadn't attacked. It seemed almost as if they were waiting for an advantage, and Pehr wondered exactly how much intelligence the people who made these things had imbued them with.
Pehr was nearing the end of his strength, and could see that Tasha was doing no better. She was grimacing, panting, but still running, and he found himself impressed. He wondered if she still believed that she would survive this night. He could easily prove her right by stopping now and turning to put up a fight. It would buy Tasha all the time she needed to make it to their destination. The idea of being swarmed by cat-sized metal insects, each bearing a plethora of razor-sharp blades, didn’t much appeal to him.
“No!” Tasha cried, clutching at her side and stumbling. Pehr, a few steps behind her, realized that the girl had reached the end of her reserves. Her body was cramping, desperate for water and rest. He caught up with her, wrapped an arm around her for support, and kept her running.
The final two creatures sensed their opportunity and veered toward the struggling couple, each giving a triumphant screech. Pehr turned to meet the attack, protecting Tasha with his body, still forcing his feet to move. His club was still in his right hand, but he had little leverage with his left arm wrapped around his friend.
The closer of the two creatures jerked, as if leaping into the air, and Pehr swung his mace. Yet the thing never leapt; it had faked its attack. In the moments before his club came down and smashed to pieces on the hard, rock-like surface of the city street, Pehr wondered again just how smart these creatures were. He stumbled, bending forward, nearing losing his balance.
Now the little gardener leapt, and there was nothing Pehr could do but jerk sideways, saving his face but providing a clear path to the back of Tasha’s right calf. The creature hit her leg full-on with its spinning blades, tearing several deep gashes that began to pour blood in torrents. Tasha shrieked, tripped, and fell to her knees. Pehr fell with her but rolled on his right shoulder, abrading the flesh there but managing to make it back to his feet in one motion.
The last of the nearby metal insects launched itself at Tasha’s head even as she was pulling herself up from the ground. Pehr voiced a roaring cry of rage and denial and, without thinking, he punched out with his right hand at the creature as it soared through the air.
By some miracle the blow not only landed true, but it avoided the metal creature’s spinning blades entirely. Pehr’s knuckles were bruised terribly, but the little gardener was thrown far off course, landing on its back in the street. Before it could right itself, Pehr stomped down on it and again saw that bright flash of light as something within the creature exploded.
“We’re going to die!” Tasha wailed, trying to stand but unable to support herself on her wounded leg.
“We are not!” Pehr roared, spinning around and coming up underneath Tasha’s right arm, supporting the injured side of her body. “Now run with me, Tasha, because I will not let either of us die here in this terrible city, murdered by a bunch of Gods-damned grass cutters!”
He shoved forward with his body, propelling them both forward on his two good legs and Tasha’s one. There was blood everywhere. His hand and shoulder and back, her knee and arm and leg, all were pouring crimson. It didn’t matter; they were within twenty yards of the domed building, and Pehr was certain that if they could just make it inside, they would be safe. He believed this as fervently as the most devout of priests believed in the Gods. He believed this as if his very life depended upon it, because of course it did.
Twenty yards, but the swarm was less than five behind them. The thing that had cut Tasha’s leg had been overtaken by its brethren. What had started as a small group had now become a surging tidal wave of metal that filled the street. The individual clattering of legs had becom
e a roaring cacophony; the combined sound of countless whirring blades made a high-pitched shriek that seemed to threaten their very sanity. Pehr pressed on, pumping his legs, holding Tasha up. He could hear her ragged breathing in his ear, could smell her fear, could taste the salt of her sweat in the air as he drew breath after burning breath into his lungs.
It will not end here! He thought, and he gave one last, great shove with his legs, beginning their ascent up the domed building’s staircase. They reached the top by momentum more than effort, and it was here that Pehr lost his grip on Tasha. She collapsed upon the cool marble of the landing, and Pehr shouted her name, turning, sure that the huge wave of metal gardeners would fall upon them now and reduce them in a matter of moments to nothing more than a grisly splotch of red on these clean, white steps.
The metal things had stopped at the base of the stairs, clustered at the edge, bobbing on their legs and giving the impression of a vast black pool. The air was still filled with the whining of their blades, but they made no further motion. Not a single creature climbed so much as the first step, and Pehr stood now twenty-five feet above them, at the top of the stairs and only a few feet from the gigantic doors which allowed entry into the hall.
He supposed he should have laughed, or screamed out in triumph, or done some other thing equally befitting a warrior who has, through wit and strength and speed, outrun a force of immensely superior numbers. Instead he only coughed once, and then fell back into a sitting position next to Tasha’s prone, heaving form. He thought for a moment he might be sick, but the feeling passed.
Pehr leaned forward; hands wrapped around the back of his neck, he sat there gasping for breath, and it was some time before either he or the girl with the purple eyes could find the strength to drag themselves to those great stone doors, open them, and slip inside.
Chapter 20
Inside the domed building there was nothing but darkness. Pehr lay on his back, still panting, feeling the pain of his wounds as a distant, faraway thing that served mostly to remind him that he was not, in fact, dead yet. He slowly became aware of Tasha sobbing somewhere beside him, and when he felt her searching hands touch his chest, he took them, and he pulled the girl against him. She lay there in the dark, crying into his chest, and Pehr closed his eyes. Nani’s face came to him then, as it often did in difficult times, a comfort no matter that she could never be his.
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