by Marc Watson
A large chunk ripped through to the cargo bay, taking with it numerous crew and vehicles in a blinding fireball. Although most of the crew were mindless automatons, those that were alive (vagabonds and ne’er-do-wells from one walk of life or another who had opted to bet on the winning pony) couldn’t help but think that this career choice was not the stable employment opportunity they were looking for just before their painful and ultimately fruitless deaths.
HOME listed to the port side briefly with the impact, sending anything that wasn’t nailed down sliding across the floor. Papers and parts flew everywhere. Soldiers lost their footing and numerous planes on the top deck slid off into the ocean. Eventually it righted itself as the smoke from the impact wafted into the sky, but by that time, the damage was done.
Izuku looked at the chaos and seethed in silence before he flew into a tirade of orders and commands. His mechanical hand pointed and enunciated his shouting as his human hand tightly gripped the handle of his precious weapon, ready for the first sign of weakness from his living crew or attack from his enemies. As long as his massive vessel remained afloat, their destination was clear and he would be waiting. No conversations. No reveling. No wasting of time. The wrath of the blade forged from the Est Vacuus would be swift. He doubted even the mighty sword of Nixon Ash could stand against the power he had now. No time like the present to find out.
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Rapidly approaching from the east was the dark specter of the being known as Eleotherios Duo model 0901, or E2-0901. Eleotherios had finished his duties with the weak human known as Boroha Sharp in the expected period of time. Now, with the aid of his leg-mounted RAMjets, he would be returning to HOME in a matter of minutes.
Eleotherios spotted the smoke in the distance. It was a very smart machine. It surmised what had happened and rerouted its destination to a nearby unmanned attack ship, where it could await further instructions or begin to deduce its own next move. It had that ability, and if an unfeeling machine could be said to do so, it enjoyed the opportunities it got to exercise it.
It landed. It waited. It was the Liberator by Madness, most advanced of its kind. Much blood and sweat was shed in its creation. It would not rush so quickly into a dangerous situation.
There it would stay until called, even if that call was its own.
Chapter 20
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In the Shadow of Death
The first week down the mighty Paieleh River Valley had been as trying and draining as any week in the memory of the two from Tan Torna Qu-ay. Esgona had mastered the Turtle and was now its full-time driver. Johan was much better since his death-defying dive into the Thunder Head, and as he recovered his hearing slowly and his strength slower still, he had more and more time to ponder the image of the dagger in the rock and how it was possible that it was so.
Well, that said, he spared it a thought whenever his time wasn’t taken up by one Seraphina Langley, who had been a shadow to him ever since he had the strength to walk unaided and resume his normal duties.
She was with him constantly now, helping him with meals and tending even the smallest of wounds. It made Johan uncomfortable at first, but eventually he saw it wasn’t some kind of subservience she was showing since she had proven herself more than independent and strong enough, but an honest need to show him how appreciative she was. She had shown herself to be a very capable and smart young woman. Johan was a proud man, but even he wasn’t immune to her and her need to be with him. Something terrifying had happened to them both, and now it was a bond they shared.
Well, that and the heart-stopping attraction.
As they had spoken to one another, they realized that they had much in common, and just as Seraphina was attracted to Johan’s bravery and good looks, Johan was attracted to her independence and family-first attitude. If she wasn’t helping him, she was with her father. He never saw her alone or looking for something to do. An ethic worth its weight in gold to him.
The road the band followed was not as forgiving as they’d hoped. Although warned by the Riders that it was not for the faint of heart, Johan had secretly hoped it was simply a long, flat, slowly descending piece of road whose main obstacle was time. Alas, this was not the case. Although hard and long, centuries at the base of a cavernous ravine had led to rock falls and erosion to the poorly traveled path to the point that there were numerous times the party feared they would have to leave something valuable behind.
It was for the best that they were so well-stocked. The road offered no animals or vegetation. They had hunted what they could early on, knowing the pickings would be slim in time, but not even a mouse had been seen in two days. The only saving grace was the Paieleh River. Its waters were dangerous, but clean and refreshing after a hard day of travel. Whenever it allowed, they filled canteens and barrels and let the livestock have their fill. They carried grasses and hay enough for both horse and folme and had yet to meet an unbeatable obstacle.
That was exactly what worried August Stroan.
He was in tight with the Tan Torna Qu-ay boys now. He spent his off hours with one or both of them, finding their company preferable to that of the older officers and their cliquey ways. He was still green, and a small part of him enjoyed the respect from Johan and Esgona.
One evening he sat with the three others (Esgona had decided to join them on and off at times, and naturally any free moment Johan had demanded the inclusion of Seraphina) around a small fire. He had shed his armor, and if not for the short hair and clean face, any passerby would have simply thought him a regular part of their party. Noticing the man being much quieter than usual, Johan asked him what had put him in such a mood.
The answers they could get back were plentiful, and the story of this possession of the advanced technology with allies ahead hung over each of them as they questioned the necessary evil of the possibilities, but Johan had a feeling this was something else.
“I think we’re being followed,” he said, looking at each of them to show his seriousness. They believed him at once. As a Rider of the Inja Army, his word was not to be taken lightly. Besides, Johan had seriously considered this possibility for himself.
“What makes you say that?” Seraphina asked. Her indoctrination into this small clan had been rather painless. Any man from Tan Torna Qu-ay was raised to respect and honor women for their strength, guile, and intuition. No good ever came from underestimating the ferocity of a woman. But Seraphina Langley was a very easy person to like. She worked hard and was wonderful at deep conversation. She had proven to be more than adept at helping figure out alternative courses of action to issues the party had encountered.
“I think…no, that’s not even fair, I know something is out there somewhere, because we’ve done nothing but come up against rockslides, massive boulders, and heavily washed-out road conditions from the first step we trekked into this valley.”
“It is a pretty big valley, Stroan. I wouldn’t say these things were out of place,” responded Johan while stoking the fire, getting what heat he could from it in this chilly, walled-in expanse.
“It is out of place, Johan. It’s out of place because we had two full parties bigger than this one head this way not a week before we set out. Parties that would have dealt with many of these issues. We’ve still heaved massive amounts of rock out of our way and wedged boulders into the river. They should have gotten to them first and cleared the path. Something is out there, following us, trying to ward us off, and I’m not the only one who thinks so, am I, Esgona?”
Esgona was his quiet self until this point. Now, spotlight thrust upon him, he went red and tried to shy away from the conversation as best he could.
“What does he mean?” Johan asked with a harsh tone in his words. “Do you know something?”
Esgona softly nodded. “Two days back while I was driving the Turtle, I was looking at the valley walls and saw what looked like a dark shadow moving with us. Ahead of us, actually. It
would stop and continue, never getting too far out of our range. I only saw it for a moment, but whatever it was, it was fast and very large. I told Rider Stroan about it shortly after, but I haven’t seen it since.”
“But the rumor is that we have,” Stroan added. Johan was upset by Esgona’s seemingly integral involvement in the Inja Riders once more. “Scuttlebutt is that some of our sentries have seen something similar for days, mostly on the move at dawn or dusk. Some say tricks of the eyes, some say a very large Stalker, and some say spirits of the dead who have ventured into the valley. Until we get something concrete, we’ll never know. But I’m telling you all to be aware that this situation isn’t right.”
The topic changed to other, lighter things, though the terrors of the unseen above them or ahead were so close they could each taste them. Soon each went their own way to bed. Eventually, each was asleep and readying for the day to come.
By the time the moon was high, the rumbling began.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” was the shout that awoke Johan and Seraphina.
Johan looked around, eyes still heavy from sleep and blurry in the darkness. He had no idea what time it was, but there was still no sign of light over the ravine walls.
The waning moon provided something to see by, as did some remaining fires set by the night patrols, but what he saw was still confusion everywhere. Men and women were up, running to or from something.
They got to their feet, looking for anyone who could help. As if on cue, Stroan emerged from the hue and found them. “We’re under attack,” he said calmly, as if the scene did all the talking for him. “A few minutes ago we began getting pummeled from above by rocks and boulders.”
“How do we know it’s an attack?” Johan asked, strapping his knife to his side and trying to gather his things into some kind of order.
Impatiently, Stroan looked at him, sending the message before he spoke. “Because random rockslides don’t systematically take out all of our patrol Riders followed by individual attacks on our most well-stocked carts. Now get moving!”
The two took off behind Stroan, who was still in his casuals. Seraphina left to her father and family while Johan headed off to see what use he could be.
Chief Rider Wyndam called to Johan out of the darkness, his beaten armor rattling as he moved around. “You, go join your friend on the Turtle and get it out of here. Head farther down the valley road and don’t stop until we send word for you to do so!”
Not bound by the Inja Army chain of command (and mildly incensed at someone calling Esgona his ‘friend’), Johan protested at once. “No!” he shouted, turning the elder Rider’s hard gray eyes on him in an instant, shocked at the refusal. “Haven’t you heard of ‘divide and conquer’? If this is an organized attack, taking the most well-protected and heavily stocked thing we’ve got away from the rest of the group won’t help anyone. Plus, it looks a whole lot like you’re sending us up the fuckin’ river without a paddle, sir!” He punctuated the last word as if to prove defiantly that he was not bound by the rules the older man held so closely.
The gray eyes narrowed, clearly about to tear this sprout of a man a new one, when a fresh rumble echoed behind them. They turned just in time to see one of the larger carts pulled by a four-folme team get devastated by a humongous rock. It slammed into the side of it, blowing apart the soft wood deck and making a wreck of the wheels and lashings that held the folmes in place. As the rock careened off to the side, its damage done, the now-ruined cart was sent sliding backwards, down the side of the river embankment and into the rushing water below. Cart, supplies, and helpless beasts of burden were swept away before anyone could even think of reacting.
Wyndam instantly forgot the chewing-out of Johan and ran off to assist his men with any multitude of things. Johan went to a cluster of carts at the back he knew contained the supplies of the Inja Riders. The confusion had meant that no one was left to guard the arms and supplies held there, but the hard carbines and handguns weren’t what he was looking for.
After a few minutes of searching, smaller rocks began raining down yet again. He knew that at any moment another of those giant haymakers was going to hit the Turtle. If that happened, Johan and his blatant defiance of Chief Rider Wyndam’s orders were likely to be set in chains for the rest of the trip, if not outright tossed into the Paieleh in a fit of blind rage.
After looking into several crates and wooden boxes, Johan found what he was looking for, pulled it out, and ran back to the Turtle, its sides now taking a heavy beating.
In the darkness above, the familiar rumble was heard. Johan knew what was coming.
The Turtle was empty of people, but still fully loaded with fuel and supplies. If it was hit, they’d be lucky if the whole thing didn’t go up like a powder keg. Esgona was nowhere to be seen. Figures, he thought as he ran to the front of the machine. Some things never change. A second later, Johan’s hand was up, the Ark 1 already charging.
Straight ahead of them, he saw it; dark and gray, the largest one sent down yet. He suddenly questioned if this was going to work on something so large. Too late now, he supposed, and pulled the trigger.
Though Ark 1s have no recoil (a benefit of their design), the sound they make can be enough to startle anyone pulling the trigger for the first time. Couple that with someone who had recently experienced some very serious ear trauma and you had the equivalent of sonic head-punch the second the trigger was pulled.
The pop as it went off sent Johan back against the Turtle. A second later, the crushing bang sounded, and the boulder exploded in a sudden flash, sending chunks in each direction. They hit the Turtle, but with much less impact than the original boulder would have dealt.
Johan’s ears rang as he waited for the Ark 1 to recharge, desperate to stop another attack.
Then the rock barrage fell silent, and the attack ended.
The damage report was not good. The cart and folmes were lost, but worse than that, so were six Riders who were on patrol at the time; three ahead and three behind, lending credence to the fact that this was a calculated attack and not a random event in the valley or something concocted in the spur of the moment by an unseen assailant. It was planned and it was executed with purpose.
The cart lost was a well-stocked one, containing many canned goods found in Huan and two large kegs of water. Now they’d have to begin rationing foodstuffs and making more stops for water. With the increasing danger of the valley and the apparent enemies it contained, stopping more often was not a welcoming prospect.
The three had not seen Stroan since the end of the attacks. Chief Rider Wyndam had ordered teams into the higher grounds but each came back empty as far as useful information was concerned. They found places where rocks were dislodged, but no sign of the perpetrator. The size and scope of the attack, coupled with the attack on Huan, made it clear who and what the enemy they faced was.
The following morning the three were left to their own ponderings without Stroan to aid them, and it was made very clear any man or woman not being a Inja Rider was to stay with the carts and tend to those and only those.
Johan opted to break the silence and turn attention to the problems at hand. “We can all agree it’s a Ruskan that’s to blame, yes?”
Nods and silence.
“And we agree they attacked Huan? Possibly the two caravans ahead of us as well?”
Same response.
“Alright then, why throw rocks?”
They looked at him questioningly, wondering where he was going.
“Why attack from far away? They clearly don’t care about making a rush for it and causing as much damage as possible. What makes this group so different? Why not just pounce off the valley walls and be done with us?”
It was a good question, but Esgona, who was revealed to have been rather selflessly aiding others when the Turtle was attacked, was certain he already had the answer. “The Ark 1?”
Johan was ready for the answer. “No, it’s not that. Th
ey never would have known we had it until last night after the attack began. And can we honestly say a Ruskan Stalker in this world is smart enough to know what it is and the damage it could do? Stalkers are old, tough and smart, but I’d hate to think they’d be so worldly.”
They didn’t jump up and agree right away, but it seemed the truth. Silence again as each of them considered the possibilities and the reasoning behind each. They sat there for the better part of the day, the three young travelers lost in their own deep thoughts.
After a lunch no one really ate, Rider Stroan returned with the new orders. “Well fellas…oh, and lady…” A nod of thanks from the lone female. “We ride out in an hour, and then we don’t stop unless something stops us. We go, day and night, until we make it to the Blood Sea and whatever awaits us there. We’re spreading the word to one and all that we go and go hard.”
It seemed a reasonable idea. The plan would, in theory, cut the remainder of travel time in half, leaving only another week in this dark and unforgiving valley.
Another thing to speed them along, thought Johan. If Aryu was still following as he hoped he was, each step further from the plan was a step away from him. At night, fires and smoke would have told him if they were below, but what now? A few lanterns to light the way? Not promising if he wanted to find them at night.
If he was on his way at all.
It had been more than two weeks since their separation in the mountain town, and Johan was getting more and more confident that if he hadn’t shown up yet, he likely wouldn’t show up at all. He quickly pushed the thought from his head.
“First though, we have another matter to attend to,” continued Stroan. They looked at him, wondering. Sadness on his face, “We need to bury our dead.”
The service was quick. Traditionally, a fallen Rider of the Inja Army would be set alight on pyres. Wood being a commodity they couldn’t spare at this time, they opted instead for graves of rock higher up the valley wall on a flat plateau. Quick words of honor spoken, tears wept by many (yet none by any other Rider or man from Tan Torna Qu-ay), and the party was off again, this time at as full a tilt as they could manage, the Turtle and its hobbled driver leading the way.