“Probably.”
“I am the new Herd Father,” Qadan said.
“Congratulations,” Horngore replied sardonically.
“My people have lived on these plains for centuries, yet you thought you could drive us away?”
“I don’t give a damn how long the Centauri have been here!” the Feran warrior spat. “We’re here now and we plan on staying.”
Holding the mace in both hands, Horngore twirled it like a pinwheel, the electrical arcs forming a circle of dancing light.
Qadan, unimpressed, charged with his spear leading the way. The Feran pivoted, allowing the Pellion to gallop by. Qadan made a wide circle, dodging between the bodies like an agile colt as his armor clanked together with each stride. Lining up for another assault, he aimed the tip of the spear at the center of Horngore’s chest.
With a shout, Qadan bounded forward but again the Feran side-stepped. This time, with a great upward motion, Horngore swung his mace, the head meeting the spear along its shaft, smashing it into splinters. Qadan’s front legs bent beneath him, sending him rolling head over tail across the muddy grass. When the Pellion regained his footing, he was holding nothing more than a shattered length of wood. Between him and Horngore, the rest of the spear was stuck into the ground.
The warriors moved simultaneously, both dashing toward the spear: one to arm himself and the other to deny the other.
With two extra legs, Qadan reached the spear first, but only just in time to parry a blow from Horngore’s mace.
“The last Herd Father died by my hands,” the Feran snarled. “Now it’s your turn!”
Horngore made two quick swings, but Qadan blocked each of them. The Centauri warrior also noticed blood pouring from his opponent’s wound.
“Somebody’s gotten to you before me!” Qadan said, gasping for air.
“Your green knight took a crack at me,” Horngore replied, eyeing the gash as well. “When I’ve healed properly, I’ll pay him another visit!”
The Feran lifted the heavy mace once more but, perhaps feeling the weight after losing too much blood, hesitated and left an opening for the Pellion. Qadan thrust his shortened spear, lodging the tip into Horngore’s chest. Gathering power in his rear haunches, he launched forward, driving the spear through to the other side.
The Feran warrior, his mouth gaping, drew in a long breath, exhaling a long, tortured groan. The mace still in Horngore’s right hand fell dully to the ground, the energy sapped away into the wet earth.
Qadan pulled the spear out, letting the dead Feran topple face first.
Snatching a hatchet from a dead Pellion, Qadan hacked at his prize until the head came loose. Jamming in the spear, he hoisted his trophy high above, the rain and blood mixing in the air before dripping across his flank. With his victory on full display, he trotted triumphantly back in the direction of his people’s camp.
The storm broke with the coming of the dawn, the morning light falling through the clouds in a glow of orange and red. Sir Golan and the rest of the party trudged out of the mud and into a wide expanse of grass untouched by the battle from the night before. The stench of decay became less noticeable, the merciful wind having shifted, now blowing away from the group.
While Doric and Maycare, along with their butlerbot, remained several paces behind, the green knight and Squire took the lead. Although Sir Golan’s robot remained damaged, he tried his best to keep up.
“Sorry to slow you down,” Squire said.
“Not at all,” Sir Golan replied. “The others are far slower than you.”
“I meant to thank you for saving us last night. That Feran warrior was a brute. He surely would’ve smashed me to bits if you hadn’t intervened.”
“Well, I only wish I could have finished him.”
“You’re limping slightly,” Squire noted. “Are you injured?”
Instinctively, Sir Golan quickened his stride. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“That electrical mace of his...” the knight said. “It may have done some nerve damage.”
The robot nodded, at which point his left eye dropped out of its socket, swinging loosely by a wire.
“Good grief!” Sir Golan said.
“What? Oh, sorry about that,” Squire replied, popping the eye back in. “I’ll be glad when we find this Henry fellow so we can return to civilization. We could both use some repair.”
The steppes, a landscape of gently swaying green, stretched into infinity with only low hills breaking the monotony. In the distance, a speck appeared atop one of the hills, only to disappear again.
“What was that?” Sir Golan asked.
“I don’t know,” Squire replied.
Straining his eyes, the green knight peered at where the thing had been, only to see something much larger appear. It too, however, vanished shortly thereafter.
“There!” Squire said, pointing. By this time, the others had caught up with the knight and his robot.
“What’s going on?” Doric asked. She had tied her hair back to get the wet strands out of her eyes.
Far off, the smaller speck reappeared, exhibiting the vaguely gangling limbs of a human.
“Is that Henry?” Doric asked.
The person seemed to sink into the grass, while something else appeared immediately after. Massive, the second thing rose up and then back down again.
“Did that thing have two heads?” Benson the butlerbot asked.
“Well, that can’t be good,” Maycare remarked.
Sir Golan pulled Rippanna from its scabbard. “Come on!”
Henry wasn’t sure how long he had spent in the cavern with the two-headed giant, but he knew it was too long. His friends would probably be missing him by now. Professor Doric would wonder if he was alright and Lord Maycare would comfort her. His broad shoulders were ideal for comforting, Henry thought, whose own shoulders were narrow and bony. He imagined Doric, her eyes soaked with tears, resting her head against Maycare’s chest...
Henry needed to get the hell out of there.
The giant, however, would have nothing of it. Every time Henry edged toward the only exit, the creature would roar and throw various dead animal parts at him.
How many skulls and femurs can one giant have? Henry asked himself.
The constant singing, while pleasant, never stopped and started grating on Henry’s nerves. He couldn’t understand the words and the melodies were on a continual loop. He began questioning his sanity.
What kind of music does Maycare play for Jessica? Henry wondered. I bet it’s the kind that lulls you into falling in love with him.
Eventually, the giant’s mouth widened into a gaping yawn. The two-headed behemoth stretched out over a pile of furs and fell asleep. Within a few minutes, a nasal trumpeting echoed off the cavern walls and Henry knew this was the chance he had waited for.
Cautiously, Henry started making his way toward the entrance, just past the giant. Henry glanced at him just for a moment, taking his eyes off where he was going long enough for his foot to catch the shell of a dead turtle on the cluttered floor. Henry caught himself by grabbing the closest thing he could find which, in this case, was a wooden frame holding up a cooking pot over the central fire. The frame and the pot toppled over, spilling the liquid contents onto the flames, which produced a loud hissing along with plumes of smoke and cinders. One of the cinders landed on the giant’s bed, catching it on fire.
“Ah, for the love of–” Henry swore, scrambling back to his feet.
The giant’s eyes opened, followed by his mouth from which a roar erupted as he frantically patted at the burning bedding around his legs.
Henry rushed past and out into the blinding daylight. Stunned at first, he shielded his eyes while stumbling forward. The ground quickly rose in a gentle hill, which Henry quickly crested and came down the other side. This cycle repeated again and again until Henry felt like a bobber rising and falling on the waves of a green ocean.
Henry did
n’t need to turn around to know the giant was close behind. Even with the music still playing in his ears, Henry could hear the stomping of heavy feet pursuing him. If the creature wasn’t going to eat him before, he would certainly be hungry enough now after chasing him across the countryside.
Just about the time his eyes were finally adjusting to the daylight, Henry spotted the armor of Sir Golan glinting in the sun. Henry changed direction, aiming toward the knight. Getting closer, he made out the other figures in the party, including Doric and Maycare. Henry was pleased the two were not embracing in their grief about his supposed demise. Instead, they stared at him with dumbfounded amazement.
The two-headed creature continued to chase Henry, directly into the path of Sir Golan. While the others scattered out of the way, the giant swung his massive arms at the knight who proved too nimble and simply dodged. With a quick thrust, Sir Golan sliced at the giant’s belly, causing a nasty wound which began gushing blood. With a shout of pain, the creature curled his hand against the cut.
“Stop!” Henry heard himself shout.
Sir Golan halted his next attack. “What is it?”
“Just wait,” Henry replied.
The giant, not hesitating, turned and stumbled back in the direction of the cavern, leaving a tail of blood behind him.
“He’s getting away!” Maycare yelled.
“Let him go,” Henry said.
Doric approached her assistant and put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, Henry?”
“I’m fine,” Henry replied, “but there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I think I found what’s causing the music...”
Henry led the others back to the cavern. Although they protested, Henry insisted that he go in alone.
“Be careful,” Doric said.
Compared to the light of day, the cavern interior seemed pitch-black, even with the central fire still burning. It occurred to Henry that he might be putting himself in terrible danger, but somehow he felt that the giant was never a threat, at least not to him.
His eyes slowly adjusting, he heard a low breathing. The music, which had been faint where Henry first reunited with Doric and the rest of the party, was now as loud as ever.
“Hello?” he said, but no one answered.
The smell of wet cinders and spilled soup hung in the air. On the pile of furs and skins, the giant lay on his back, his chest slowly heaving. Henry stepped in a pool of liquid at the foot of the bed, which he assumed was not soup.
The giant opened his eyes but only barely. His complexion was ghostly pale.
“I’m so sorry,” Henry said.
The giant muttered something incomprehensible and coughed several times, wincing in pain.
Henry felt utterly helpless. He knew there was nothing he could do, or anything he could offer. He stayed with the giant until the massive creature died. Perhaps that was enough, Henry thought, but it didn’t feel sufficient.
Once the giant’s chest stopped moving and he drew his last breath, something happened that Henry hadn’t expected.
The music stopped.
Thinking for a moment, an idea appeared in Henry’s head like two puzzle pieces that finally fit. He crossed the cavern to the other side where the glowing device had been, except now it was no longer glowing. The lantern-shaped relic, which the giant had refused to let Henry touch, was dark and silent.
Henry hesitated, but after collecting his courage, he picked up the device and held in in his hands. Taking a quick final glance at his former captor, Henry carried the object out to the others who waited for him outside.
A version of this story will appear in the upcoming novel, The Robots of Andromeda (2020)
About the Author
W. (William) H. Mitchell was born in Omaha, NE and graduated from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln with a degree in English. He lives with his wife and cats outside of Kansas City.
Read more at W. H. Mitchell’s site.
The Imperium Chronicles Collection, 2nd Edition - Stories Page 24