It had been easy to squeeze the trigger and kill the Cartographer. The single shot had dropped the unit immediately. He wondered how many of these it could take out before the charge depleted. He doubted that it would kill them all, but more than a few.
Part of him wanted to try and sneak away at night and find a place to hide, but he knew that the reality was once he stood, the group would be on him. They would tear him to pieces for making noise or moving. He had two choices. Fight and die, or starve and die. He looked at the green sludge gathering at the bottom and realized that he was likely going to dehydrate before he starved.
Spear sat in the mud for a while. There was no escaping at night. The cannibals would not be staring at the sun, and would be simply waiting for the sunrise. Days from now he would be tired. Weak. Unable to put up a defense.
If he could get up over the edge, and run far enough that he lost most of the group, maybe he could pick a few off in the trees. If he could get away, he might be able to distract them, lead most of them off into the forest and backtrack to the door.
It took him until the sun was directly overhead before he worked up the nerve to move.
Fight it is, he thought. He pushed the wire to the side and left the cutter on the bag. Gripping the hand weapon in his right, he reached with his left for the spear.
Slowly working his way to a crouch, he steadied himself in the sticky mud. It clung to his feet like clay.
Above him, grunting began. Had they heard him?
His mind worked at options as he shifted closer to peer through the crack. He would fight the ones closest, but then would head down the beach. Pull them away.
Maybe if the tide came in when they were tearing apart his body, they would be swept away, leaving someone else to wake the originals.
At the very least he was going to kill a few of them.
There was an echo of footsteps above, and the growing chorus of beastly groans.
“This is it,” he said, standing quickly, and leveling the weapon, he spun looking for the closest, but the defective units were all marching away from him to the treeline. He turned again, looking for stragglers, and dipped back down. They were all moving to a cluster of trees near the entrance.
Confused, Spear pressed his luck and peered over the top of the wall watching. Something in the trees swayed, and wood splintered. A ray of yellow burst forth, arcing across the forest. Smoke billowed, and sparks rose.
Spear shuddered. At least one guard was here. How had they found him? It was impossible! Spear stood now, checking again behind him for a missed aggressor, but they had all moved. They were all attacking the guard.
The weapon arced across the clearing, lopping off trees and setting tinder ablaze. He could see the behemoth crush and stomp the horde as they raked at its legs. Each of them attempted to climb towards the head.
Realizing his luck, he vaulted out of the hole and ran to the first row of ruins, ducking behind a vertical slab of graystone. A straggler limped by ignoring him, focused on the light show, and the carnage.
Spear peered around the edge and could see the heavy metal door easily from his vantage point. It was clear of any obstruction, as long as the Horde didn't kill and dismantle the guard and then look for him.
If he could just get it open, the originals would be able to help. They would save them all.
Staying low Spear clung to a wall of the ruins. Coming to the end, he steadied himself. Taking a look at the distracted horde, he could see them pulling the guard to the ground.
Bracing himself, he lifted his spear and broke out into the open space, charging up the hill. Long strides of his legs ate up the distance. Dirt kicked up as he brazenly poured energy into the sprint.
Spear hurdled over a short wall and continued at full speed. Looking to his right, he noted that he was half way across. He could see the tall sentinel rise from the ground, covered with the murderous bodies. They clawed and pulled, heaving at his metal plating. Their numbers were overwhelming it.
Spear refocused on the run and doubled his efforts, knowing that it would have been him rather than the guard.
The distance seemed to take forever to cross. With each push of his feet, he gained more ground but felt as though time was slipping through his fingers.
A stray blast of yellow drew across the field to his right, sparking fires in the low-lying green. It was far away from Spear, but he knew that the odds were high that before the units took the guard apart, more blasts would head his way.
The curved wall ahead was shaped into a half cylinder built from flat graystone. An overhand at the top curved downwards to create a small protective wall on either side of the door.
Spear could see a safe corner to take cover in and slammed himself into the space, almost out of sight of the guard and rogue units.
The width of his protective cover was only about as deep as Spear was tall, and he pressed himself against the surface. His hand touched the ancient metal door. Its black surface was cold to his touch.
Checking the guard again, he watched as it swung its arms, flinging some of the insane cannibals away into the trees. The yellow light was bursting forth now in carefully focused blasts. The Horde's numbers slowly began to dwindle. Showers of sparks and liquid metal exploded, igniting the underbrush.
Spear could see that the tide was turning. He would have a guard to deal with shortly if he couldn’t get the door open.
He tried to remember his dreams. The memory had seemed so vivid, but he struggled to remember it now. Fear had taken hold. His hands shook as he paced next to the door feeling for a handle, but its large black surface was smooth, save for the rivets and rusting surface. Not even a hinge stuck out.
Traversing back the other direction, he spotted a panel on the side wall. Its symbols looked familiar. Running to it, he peeled the rusted cover off. His hands touched the metal buttons. Something was familiar about them.
There was a deafening crash in the tree line, and Spear turned to look. The guard was nowhere to be seen, but the cutter was firing non-stop beyond the flames that now had grown. The lowest branches of the dry brush had caught, and the tinder was billowing smoke.
He calmed himself and dug deep. There had been a sequence. He remembered there was a sequence. Ignoring the maelstrom, he let his fingers glide over the buttons.
3 - 9 - 3 - 7 …
What were the other symbols?
There was silence now from the forests edge. Turning he checked on the guard. Nothing moved in the burning forest. Not even one of the wayward units. The bright flames licked away, spiraling upwards, candling each tree as they worked towards the treetop.
Spear closed his eyes and relaxed, trusting the memory…
- 4 - 5
Opening his eyes, he waited. Was it the wrong number?
He punched it in again, quickly.
3 - 9 - 3 - 7 - 4 - 5
Again, nothing happened. Why didn’t it work? Why wouldn’t it wake them!
“Why!” Spear clenched his fists.
He turned to the door slamming his fists into the metal, “Wake up!” He thundered his hands against the steel. It shook with each impact, but once he stopped, it sat silent. Unmoving. Uncaring. Indifferent to his needs.
“Why won’t you help!” He screamed kicking the metal before stepping back.
A familiar whine began behind him. The cutter was charging.
Turning, Spear could see the guard. Enveloped in burning coals and yellow sparks emerge from the treeline. It looked directly at him and raised the cutter. Spear flinched backward as the cutter projected its ray narrowly missing the narrow beam of death. The keypad of symbols turned to slag, and the stone in the corner exploded into a shower of hot particles.
Spear’s heart dropped as he pressed himself flat against the wall, just beyond the Guards view. He could hear footfalls closing in, and the weapon was charging again.
Spear leaned his head against the wall angrily and stared at the unmoving door. They
were not coming.
No one was coming.
He was going to die here, outside of a tomb far from those that he loved. His entire race would continue cannibalizing each other until there were none left.
His race would die out, and the green would grow to cover their bodies. They would be even less of a footnote than the originals.
He thought about the Water Carrier. He wished he had been able to say goodbye to her.
Bracing himself, Spear checked the charge on the hand weapon, placed his finger on the trigger and stepped around the corner. Brazenly walking across the smoldering ground, he closed with the Sentinel and leveled the hand weapon.
It burped blue light at the guard with each pull of the trigger. The furrowed armor plating absorbed the energy but knocked the Guard off balance. The blast from the cutter was firing upwards towards the sky.
Spear fired again, and again, stepping forward, pressing his advantage. Each shot
He was within physical striking distance of the guard when movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn. Three flaming units charged out of the nearby fire towards them. Spear watched the guard turn and fire. The world turned on its side as a third enraged unit slammed into Spear from behind knocking him to the ground.
He pressed himself up quickly to see that the two flaming units who had jumped onto the off balance Guard were clawing at its armor.
The Guard leveled the weapon at the entangled target and fired, the blow narrowly missing Spears head. A shower of sparks covered Spear, as the energy weapon disintegrated the upper body of his own attacker.
The guard grabbed one of the latched on units, and peeled it away, throwing it at Spear.
Rolling to the side, Spear dodged the bundle of flaming limbs. Angered, the blazing cannibal rolled immediately to its feet and charged for Spear.
The small weapon in his hand round punched a hole through the unit's shoulder. Tightening his grip and aiming carefully at the burning face, he pulled the trigger again.
Nothing.
He pulled again as his enemy closed the gap.
Silence.
Dropping the weapon, Spear brought up the sharpened pole, and held it firm, driving it into the wild things head. The momentum pushed the lance into the faced and out the back, crumpling the legs. The entire body collapsed to a kneeling position.
Green gel spattered onto the blackened ground.
Standing, Spear took hold of the shaft and jerked the weapon free.
The Guard was on its hands and knees crushing one of the units into the burning ground, while the other was pulling at the armor plating on its back. Spear watched as a plate lifted and came free, and the small unit lifted it growling wildly before smashing it into the back of the Guard’s head.
A large hand reached backward and caught the bundle of thin limbs together in one grip before pulling them over its shoulders to hang in front of it. The guard's back was turned as it reached up and cruelly pulled the unit in half.
Its back exposed, and a large section missing, Spear seized the advantage and charged forward, lifting the sharpened pole he lunged driving it home.
The point breached the thin skin of the missing armor and plunged deep into the body. The effect was almost immediate, as the guard dropped to one knee. The downwards motion pulled the weapon from Spear’s hand. He watched as the towering sentinel tried to stand. Its right side was slow and sluggish, and the machine's right-hand flopped as it refused to close around the metal thorn.
Spear realized that the cutting tool had been dropped, and spotted it nearby. Charging forward he grasped the handle of the device in his small hands and hefted its weight turning it towards the Guard. The equipment was almost as big as he was, and heaving the weight was cumbersome.
The Guard lurched forward, realizing its error.
Spear found the trigger, and wrapped his hand around it, activating the charge. He finished swinging the cutter to point at the Guard, only to feel it crushed into his chest.
The guard's working left hand had sandwiched him between it and the cutter. Spear was pressed face down on the weapon, pinned by the gigantic hand.
It was all Spear could do to keep the hand from crushing him under the weight. He let go of the cutters handle and braced his arms perpendicular to the ground, but could feel the increasing pressure bending them. His metal skeleton groaned as it began to fold.
Spear looked around wildly, trying to find a way out the situation. He was slowly being compacted. Spear caught a look at the Guard and its emotionless eyes. There was no hate, no cruel joy. It was just another task handed out by the Master. Its black armor did not smile or snarl. It’s cold dead eyes just looked at him, waiting for the inevitable end.
Both of Spear's arms were extended braced against the weapon and ground.
The Guard's weight shifted completely on top of Spear's back, and Spear's left arm buckled bending at a steep angle while his right arm slipped. He felt his chest collide with the side of the weapon, and the pressure increase yet again. He was trapped.
The weight was off his arms, but now he lay on the cutter. Unable to provide resistance, the pressure applied to his back began crushing his torso.
No matter how much Spear tried to reassert back pressure, the Guard simply increased. The giant's weight shifted overtop of him. Spear's chest popped and caved. He could see the soft soil around the cutter compressing and begin to crater around the mass.
Panicking, Spear writhed with his free right arm, pressing against the dirt, the cutter, whatever would give him purchase, but he knew what was coming.
It would be over soon.
Struggling to find a grip to fight with he writhed with his good hand, grabbing anything he could. Fingers found purchase on the cutters handle, and through blind luck gripped to the trigger.
Bright yellow energy arced out, cutting through the side of his abdomen, and then on to tear through the guard's thigh shearing off its paralyzed leg at the knee. The pressure disappeared for a moment as the Guard pulled back.
The giant rocked backward, unstable. It coldly assessed the damage for only a moment before renewing the attack.
Spear rolled onto his side as the Guard swung his palm towards him in a final crushing blow. With the weapon close at hand, Spear fired again.
The continuous beam cut through the limb, and it landed next to Spear’s head almost crushing him.
Spear adjusted himself and with his folded arm he clumsily lifted the weapon and reached for the trigger with his working limb.
Spear held onto, waiting for the charging cycle once more as the leaned forward to crush him clumsily with a paralyzed hand.
The blinding light hit the guard in the chest, and for a moment the armor held. It leaned inwards to reach for Spear, but molten metal poured out, splashing the ground with burning rivers of steel and alloy. Passing through the machine’s body, it punched out the other side, firing continually into the sky above. Spear could feel the vibration as the light roared out cutting the falling body in half.
Spear's hands let go, and he stepped to the side as the two halves of the torso crashed to the ground.
The head faced him unmoving.
Angrily Spear stepped forward and heaved the cutter to the side to aim at the neck.
"Never again," he growled.
Tightening his grip he fired one final time, slicing slowly through the neck.
The Guards decapitated head rocked forward, detached from the body.
Kneeling in the dying cinders of the field, Spear looked around. Everything was dead or on fire. He shook his head.
This had to end.
Chapter 34
The door sat waiting as it had for so long.
Its pitch black tomb had held back the light of day back for eons. Inside the structure, the first light in hundreds of years began to grow.
Soon a small red glow began softly. Cherry red heat built until trickles of liquid metal began to flow. They coalesced into a r
iver of molten slag.
The cutting beam carefully moved on, tracing a nearly perfect circular path of heat and smoke. Once its track was complete, the light dissipated as the cutting beam shut down.
The first sounds inside the void were the ticking of the superheated metal as it contracted. Soon afterward a dull thud resonated from the outside, ringing inside from the vibration.
Another collision from the outside rang the circular section. A strong shoulder rang it again and again until the thick steel of the circle shifted far enough to fall inwards.
The sunlight shone inside as the dust rose, and ancient stagnant air wafted outwards, mixing with the smoke and growing breeze of the current century.
Spear dropped the heavy cutter outside the door and peered into the darkness of the chamber beyond. His bent left arm was curled against his chest absently wiping at the ash and dirt which caked his face.
Turning back towards the outside, be gathered up the bundle of branches he had collected, and walked back to the smoldering grass fire near the Guards body. Beyond a forest fire raged billowing smoke and ash into the air.
Spear sparked the torch from the fire of the battlefield. Carrying the flame, he returned to the newly carved doorway and stepped through.
The everything in the first room way was covered by a thin layer of dust, and the strange furnishings and sitting areas seemed to indicate a large waiting room.
Strange symbols were written on the wall above an interior door, and square shaped frames which once held crumbled papers hung empty from the walls or had long fallen to the floor. Inside here the polished floor was covered by a thin layer of dust from the flaking material of the walls.
Spear’s disappointment grew as he walked deeper inside. The ceiling had collapsed in places and cables and conduits lay on the floor or dangled. Moving down the single hallway, he walked past small rooms, filled with piles of rotting material and chairs. The metal shelves seemed to hold something similar to the Archivist's plates, but whatever they were, they had long since disintegrated away.
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