by Ste Sharp
Li tilted her head.
‘I will kill whoever brought me here.’ He looked up into the dark clouds and clenched his jaw. ‘They have nothing else they can take from me… and I will make them pay for taking me away from my son.’
***
John walked with his eyes fixed on his feet. A brown boot, a silver foot, a brown boot, a silver foot. His feet swung through the dry grass with different sounds: the boot swished through, while the metal of his Lutamek foot tinkled against the grass stems.
John looked up and saw Mata’s large frame bobbing with each step. His back was covered in thick grass blades that nodded with brown seed cases. The Maori had gone missing yesterday morning and had been found curled up in a hollow, covered in bees. Nobody had seen the flowers but, like John, Mata didn’t want to talk about it.
Ahead of Mata, the Sorean skipped and loped through the grass with Olan and Jakan-tar in the lead, while, out of sight in the vanguard, the huge Lutamek robots scouted for trouble.
To John’s left, the group of soldiers that had arrived in the night trotted on their steeds. Crossley had been talking to a Spartan who said the horses were called ‘tocka’, but John thought they looked like starved racehorses. The group’s leader, a sour-faced Mongolian, had given five tocka to Mihran as a tribute. Some wore a metal coat, or was it their skin? Lavalle rode one of them, looking splendid in his pitch-black armour.
To John’s right, Mihran rode his tocka at the head of a group of soldiers, with Millok floating above Li in her energy-field prison. John had tried to talk to the Brakari, but she’d only twitched in response, and John felt a twinge of regret when he saw her trapped body.
John recognised the shape of the hills ahead. ‘Not much further,’ he said to no one.
‘What’s that?’ Crossley was behind him.
‘Not much further to the battlefield,’ John said.
‘Right.’ The American’s face turned dark. ‘Just when I was getting used to all this walking.’ Crossley’s face lightened. ‘Hey, did I tell you about the robot I spoke to yesterday? Five-seven?’
John shook his head.
‘So, I was walking the perimeter when I found him, I guess it’s a him? Anyway… I found him drawing.’ He paused for effect. ‘He was the one who drew the pictures in the ruined castle.’
John glanced at Crossley.
‘He was drawing Brakari soldiers and humans, just scratches in the soil, but they looked good. So, I asked him about the castle and, eventually, he got to telling me how the Platae beat them. You know? Those flatworms?’
John nodded.
‘There were too many of them. They bred right in front of them and, if you shot one, you got two! They kept coming and when they landed on a Lutamek, they got in them.’ Crossley’s eyes were wide. ‘They wriggled inside and ate their organs… the organic parts. Without those, the Lutamek were just machines. Nothing controlling the mechanical parts and nothing making decisions.’
John winced. That was how he felt right now. He was becoming more machine by the day. He glanced at Millok, trapped in her floating prison. She’d been good to him: saved him from a painful death. He should save her. He owed her that.
‘I need to speak to Mihran,’ John said and sped off across the grass.
‘Wait!’ Crossley shouted but didn’t follow.
John focused on Mihran, riding his steed, as he quickstepped through the grass with alternating swishes and tinkles. He would change Mihran’s mind. They needed Millok to fight on their side. They needed all the help they could get!
‘Mihran!’ John shouted. ‘Commander!’
Scores of eyes turned to John and Mihran brought his tocka to a standstill. John blocked out the staring faces. He would never have done this during his war but a fire in his chest powered him now. ‘Mihran, I need to speak to you.’
Mihran waved a finger and the line carried on past them. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s about Millok.’ They both watched her grey body float past. ‘Something she told me… I think it’s a trap.’
‘A trap?’ Mihran scowled at John for a moment then said, ‘Walk with me.’ He patted his tocka and it moved on.
‘Millok told me about what the Brakari leader can do. Belsang,’ John said. ‘He’ll push us where he wants us to go.’
Mihran replied, ‘Belsang, yes, the Lutamek told me about him. I will not underestimate him. You have nothing to worry about. I have received word from Althorn.’ Mihran tapped his temple. ‘He has shown me the Brakari army and they are weaker than the Lutamek said. Fewer troops, less well armed. They are slower too, so,’ Mihran pointed beyond the grey smudge on the horizon, ‘we will be beyond your valley and onto the plain before they reach us.’
‘Althorn told you that?’
‘Yes, he thought-cast the images to me.’
Maybe it was true? They would make it past the valley and fight the Brakari on their own terms. But why did John’s stomach still feel tight?
Ahead, a set of grey shapes loomed up.
‘The Lutamek say it’s an abandoned fort,’ Mihran said. ‘Stone pillars mostly.’
That’s where we should fight them, John thought. Somewhere with shelter. Not out in the open.
‘What about Millok?’ John asked. ‘We need every soldier we can get.’
‘No.’ Mihran looked away. ‘I have plans for your Brakari friend.’
Chapter 17
‘I’m glad you brought it to me before your interrogations were complete.’
Althorn listened to the words with his eyes closed and instinctively pictured a tall man with a wide mouth and thick neck speaking.
‘Yes, Dominus.’ A new voice spoke, not as deep, but something in the way he pronounced every syllable made Althorn shiver.
‘I see you have tested its armour,’ the leader said.
‘These humans have no natural armour as such.’
Who was speaking? And where was he? Althorn tried to recall his recent memories.
‘Any information?’
‘Yes. It told me of its adaptation and of those within the human army.’
Memories were coming back to Althorn: sharp blades; fire; pain; a large blue creature looming over him. He tried to move but he lost consciousness again.
When he came to, he felt an odd sensation.
‘You’re sure this will wake it?’
‘It worked last time, Dominus.’
‘Don’t waste water on it. Turn it.’
Althorn felt the world spin. He clenched his teeth as what felt like a thousand cuts screamed across his body. He breathed heavily but refused to yell out.
‘It’s awake, Dominus.’
From what he could feel with his hands, Althorn was tied to something hard and coarse.
‘I sense it. Very easy to manipulate despite the cranial barrier,’ the deep voice spoke. ‘One simple tweak and I drained its energy.’
Althorn had to open his eyes, but feared what he would see. He stretched his legs and forced his eyelids open. Something was wrong. The colours looked fine but how near were the shapes? He focused on two creatures: a dark-blue scorpion-like beast and a powder-blue caterpillar of a creature. Althorn looked from side to side. Brakari soldiers were everywhere, resting, eating and wrestling.
‘These simple neural patterns are easy to copy. I was able to send a message to the human commander,’ the larva said, in deep tones, and Althorn realised this was the Brakari leader, Belsang.
‘And your message?’ The well-enunciated tones belonged to the huge shelled creature that had tortured him. Was this the same Brakari who had cut off John’s leg?
Belsang gave a low chuckle. ‘I sent simple lies. Soldier numbers, position, strength. Whatever they wanted to hear.’
‘So they will be unprepared.’
‘And will meet us on a field of our choosing.’
Althorn struggled against his ropes. He had to send a message to Mihran to warn him. A sharp sensation stabbed at his head and a voice spoke. Y
our attempts would be futile.
Althorn looked at Belsang, who turned to meet his gaze and flicked a white ball from claw to claw.
You can still see me?
Of course I can see you… Althorn stopped his thoughts. Antagonising the enemy would not benefit him.
‘It appears,’ Belsang spoke aloud, ‘that both human eyes serve the same purpose. Imagine that!’ Belsang’s body rippled as he chuckled. ‘One pair of eyes – both absorbing the same frequencies.’
Althorn blinked and fought to control his thoughts. Surely he could think inside his head without projecting the words? Or was Belsang constantly in his mind, reading every thought?
‘What a limited life these creatures have,’ Panzicosta replied. ‘In many ways we will be doing them a favour when we destroy their species.’
Belsang stopped laughing and asked. ‘Any regrowth?’
The huge Brakari stepped forward, clamped Althorn’s head in one of his claws and stared into his face. ‘None I can detect, Dominus. But if John Greene were recaptured we could see if he has the ability.’
‘Yes,’ Belsang snorted and pulsed a darker blue, ‘Millok will pay for her insurrection. After all we did for her.’
The torturer moved away, leaving Althorn’s nostrils stinging from his foetid breath. He felt energy coming back as his anger rose and he pulled against the restraints.
You haven’t worked it out yet , have you?
Althorn watched Belsang casually flick the ball from claw to claw. As it spun in the air, Althorn caught a glimpse of blue. Was it? No, it couldn’t be, surely he would feel pain if…
You humans really are quite slow. Yes, it is your eye.
‘No!’ Althorn shouted.
The Brakari soldiers either side of Belsang lunged at Althorn with their bladed claws and he jolted in shock. He had to calm down. He couldn’t risk losing his other eye.
Belsang giggled, sending ripples of colour across his tiny, bloated body. ‘General.’
The large Brakari stepped forward. ‘Yes, Dominus.’
‘The human has served its use for now – put it with the injured slaves, I may have a use for them during the battle.’
‘Yes, Dominus. Victorio Brakarius!’
Althorn didn’t fight back when the guards carried him away, and they didn’t cut him from the plank when they threw him into a festering pit of dying creatures. Seconds later, he passed out.
***
When he came to, Althorn felt a rocking motion. In any other circumstance it would have sent him to sleep, but this movement disturbed him – a bumpy, side-to-side motion that reminded him of the rafts. Was he at sea? No, he could hear axles grinding and… was that a Lutamek sparking?
The smell of rotten flesh and bloodied fur lay thick about him, but he could deal with it. He opened his eyelids and raised his head. Here were the countless species of doomed soldiers captured by the Brakari. They were weak and broken, not yet finished but saved for some awful purpose. He remembered seeing these carts in the Brakari throng when he had been scouting and had assumed they were carrying food and tents, not bodies.
The thought of food made his stomach rumble.
He turned his head to get a better view and saw he was resting on the corpse of a Sorean soldier. Its vacant eyes were still open, staring up at the ever-clouded sky. Althorn pulled his arms in frustration, testing his restraints, but he was stuck tight to the plank. If he managed to free himself he could run clear of the Brakari army, but would he be quick enough to get out of Belsang’s reach? He would have to wait, regain his energy and then – what was that sound? He could hear a rhythmic, knocking noise, but it wasn’t coming from the cart or its wheels. He tilted his head and scanned the bodies. Past the white limbs of a groaning Frarex, two yellow, animal eyes stared out of the shadows.
Althorn met the gaze and the knocking stopped.
The eyes blinked and another pair appeared above the first. A four-eyed creature wasn’t a surprise, but the sight gave Althorn an odd feeling.
One pair of eyes closed, followed by the other.
Althorn twisted his head, looking for movement, but only saw broken bodies. Then something vibrated beneath him, sending ripples up his arms. Without a sound, the pressure on his arms released.
‘Don’t move, One-eye,’ a crackly voice whispered somewhere near Althorn’s right ear. ‘They watch us, and he listens with his mind.’
Althorn held his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to attract Belsang’s attention.
‘You are free, One-eye, but stay still a while longer.’
Althorn felt movement beneath him and scanned the bodies for a sign of who had untied him. Five arm-lengths away a set of brown scales slipped between two bodies, like a snake in the undergrowth. Althorn looked around and noticed a new head. Small, with a pointed muzzle and, Althorn admitted, quite cute. Towards the nape of its neck he saw a set of soft scales.
‘Thank you,’ Althorn whispered and the creature’s nose wrinkled in response.
A new voice spoke in Althorn’s ear, making him jump. ‘We accept your thanks.’
Althorn turned to see that the dead Sorean had been replaced by a brown, scaled creature identical to the one he had thanked. No four-eyed animal, but two, two-eyed captives.
‘What do they want with us?’ Althorn asked.
The brown animal lay still, but its mouth moved. ‘Who knows? It doesn’t concern my brother and I.’
‘Why?’ Althorn whispered.
‘We won’t let it get that far… not for those who can still fight.’
Althorn felt an energy rise in his chest. He was not alone. ‘Are there more of you? Of us?’
‘Some.’
‘And me? What can I do?’ Althorn asked.
‘My brother and I will help you.’
‘Help me?’ Althorn asked. ‘Escape?’
‘No.’ An eyelid opened a notch and a yellow eye stared into Althorn’s remaining eye. ‘We will help you kill the Brakari leader.’
***
John’s mood switched between anger and despair. He wanted to free Millok from her prison so she could convince Mihran the army was walking into a trap but, when the heat of frustration subsided, John felt the immensity of what he had to do afterwards: how could he fight whoever had brought him here? He thought of Joe and his good hand slipped inside his shirt for the tin soldier. Finding nothing, his stomach tightened, his gun-arm clicked and his anger rose again.
The cycle continued as they passed the tall, grey remains of what Li said was an abandoned fortress. The place looked like a hundred smokestacks to John: all chimneys and no factory. Grubby and dark, but a good place to hide.
Soon it was behind them and, in his insular state, John would have forgotten about Crossley if he hadn’t seen him hanging back by the grey columns with a couple of soldiers and a stack of boxes. John didn’t wonder why because they were nearly at the valley. One slow climb and they would be there.
He had to do something fast.
John scanned the rows of soldiers, hoping someone would be able to help. Mata would listen and John could talk to Lavalle and Euryleia, but what good would it do? Nothing would change Mihran’s mind.
As they closed in on the ridge of the hill, John saw a flash of metal where a Lutamek scout patrolled at point. The Lutamek! Didn’t Mihran say they had to stay out of range of the Brakari? Without the shield generator Althorn had gone to retrieve, the robots would be enslaved and turned against them.
John spun around to where three Lutamek pulled carts loaded with limp humans and Sorean. He recognised one and ran downhill.
‘Two-eight-four!’ John called out and the large metal head flipped in his direction.
The Lutamek remained silent, its huge shape dwarfing John as he walked beside its elephantine legs.
‘Two-eight-four, I need to talk to you, I…’ John found himself lost for words. What was he going to ask? ‘Listen, I need to ask a favour and–’
‘I owe you no
thing.’ Two-eight-four cut him off.
‘But this is about you and your… people. It’s important.’
Two-eight-four looked at John.
‘I think we’re being led into a trap and the Lutamek need to be out of range or…’
‘We will be enslaved? Yes, we are aware of the risks, but the Brakari army has not been sensed on any frequencies. We are safe.’
‘No – it’s not true.’ John felt his anger rise again. Why would nobody listen to him? ‘Millok told me the Brakari want to drive us into their first battle site and that’s where we’re going. It’s just over this hill.’ John pointed. ‘We have to stop!’
‘You want me to trust the Brakari who maimed my comrades and I?’
John wanted to say ‘yes’ but held his tongue.
‘Would you trust General Panzicosta – the Brakari who tortured you?’ Two-eight-four asked.
John raised his eyebrows. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘So.’
John wasn’t going to give up. ‘But that doesn’t mean we’re not in danger, I…’
An explosion on the ridge made them look up. Lights flashed where huge silhouettes sped along the horizon like immense puppets being dragged by impatient handlers.
‘Lutamek against Lutamek?’ Two-eight-four spoke quietly. ‘It’s not possible.’
But that was what they could see. Rockets, lasers and a host of weaponry John had never seen before were being unleashed by the Lutamek on each other. The tocka stopped and the human soldiers looked to Mihran for answers.
‘What’s happening?’ John asked Two-eight-four, whose head flashed with lights. But John knew the answer. Millok had warned him. ‘It’s the Brakari, isn’t it? They’re here. I knew it!’
John charged off towards Li and heard Two-eight-four behind him. ‘We must retreat. Retreat.’
Up ahead, Mihran was holding his head, while the battle on the ridge raged with incandescent showers. John cast a look back to see Two-eight-four bounding away, abandoning its trailer of injured soldiers. Elsewhere, other Lutamek did the same.
‘I warned you!’ John shouted at Mihran. ‘But you didn’t listen. They’re here!’ He pointed at the hilltop. ‘The bloody enemy are here!’