The giant stormed forward, snarling and slavering as the others opened a path around him. A deafening roar went up from the crowd; the sound of thousands of Forgotten cheering with voices that had been rendered more animal than human by the cruel passage of time and the cumulative effects of starfall on their genetic structures. The grotesque sound sent a chill crawling across River’s skin. The others glanced at her nervously.
“Hold your positions,” she said. “Tal’mar, arrows ready.”
River needn’t have said it. The Tal’mar already had their bows drawn. She lined up the sights of her revolver, and touched her finger lightly to the trigger.
“Not yet,” she said in a quiet voice. “A few more seconds…”
Chapter 9
As the giant closed in on the group, River trained her sights on its chest. She had learned long ago that when every shot counted, it was best to aim for center mass. That way, even if she didn’t hit the creature on target, the bullet would almost certainly strike him somewhere damaging.
River counted down the yards: Two hundred… one hundred fifty… one hundred…
River could have fired, but from that distance, the bullet would have a fraction of the energy of a closer shot. Instead, she waited. The gargantuan creature moved closer, one thudding footstep at a time. Seventy yards… fifty…
One of the Tal’mar loosed an arrow. It whizzed over the heads of the Forgotten, and struck the giant in the right shoulder. The missile bounced off harmlessly. River’s eyes widened. She squeezed the trigger.
There was a puff of steam at the front of the barrel, and it recoiled slightly in her hand. The high-energy spring in her revolver sent the bullet whistling through the air at more than one thousand feet per second. The barrel rotated with a clicking sound, automatically loading the next ball. River’s aim was flawless. There was a cracking sound as the bullet penetrated the giant’s flesh and the creature stopped in its tracks, eyes wide with surprise.
The throng of creatures in the vicinity became quiet, still. Violet blood trickled from the small hole in the Forgotten champion’s chest. A low rumble erupted from the giant’s throat. It threw back its head and let out a roar, and began pounding its chest with both fists. A cheer went up among the Forgotten.
“Kerosene!” River shouted. “Dip your arrows in the kerosene.”
The Tal’mar immediately understood River’s plan. They opened the tin and took turns dipping their arrow tips into the liquid. When they were ready to fire, Vann held out a torch and the missiles blazed to life. At once, all three warriors let loose.
The fiery missiles streaked across the distance. A fearful cry went up among the Forgotten as the arrows thudded home. Though they had barely pierced the giant’s skin, the impact was enough to spray the kerosene across his chest. The warrior stumbled back, slapping wildly at the flames. His effort only invigorated the problem, and the blazing kerosene spread to his hands.
The creature howled, whirling aimlessly. The Forgotten backed away, their bulbous reptilian eyes reflecting the horrifying image they saw in front of them. River leveled her sights again. She took a deep breath, and held it while she waited for him to turn. The creature stomped backwards, tripped on something and almost fell.
Frustrated, the giant wheeled around and broke into a run straight at the group. River held her breath, the tip of her finger lightly pressed against trigger. One of the Tal’mar loosed another flaming arrow, and it glanced harmless off the creature’s shoulder, leaving a small patch of burning kerosene in its wake. The monster was thirty feet away.
“Shoot,” Vann said nervously. The distance closed to twenty feet, and then fifteen. “Shoot!” he cried out. “What are you waiting for?”
As the giant came into the ring of torchlight, River squeezed the trigger. There was a loud crack, followed by the hollow smashing sound of a pumpkin under the wheels of a steamwagon. The giant stumbled, plowing through the group as they leapt out of its path. River caught Micah by the collar and yanked him out of the way.
The giant dropped to its knees, wavered there a moment, and then fell flat on the cobblestones. A stream of blood trickled from the empty eye socket where River had shot him. All around, the Forgotten raised a mournful wail that seemed to shake the walls of the cavern.
“Torches!” River shouted. She holstered her revolver and bent over Micah. With a heave, she lifted the halfling in her arms. The others hurried to form a protective circle around her as they proceeded down the street. The Forgotten fell back, their confidence shattered by the loss of their hero. The adventurers broke into a run.
The Forgotten blended into the darkness and shadows, gliding from roof to roof, vanishing into the alleys along the street only to reappear farther down the way. By the time River and her companions came to the end of the street, their torches were burning low. They hurried past the ruins of the library, the clothing store, and at last came to the crumbling inn at the edge of town.
Three giant figures emerged from the shadows ahead of them, and the group came to a lurching halt. The champions rose up out of the shadows, each monster taller and meaner-looking than the last. The giants fanned out across their path, muscles flexing, their snarling lips baring rows of sharpened fangs.
“By all the gods and devils,” Vann muttered. The cook, who was at the head of the group, dropped his torches and drew his cleavers from his belt. He glanced back at the others with a grim look. “Three more, ladies and gents. Looks like this is it for us.”
“How many arrows?” Loren said, glancing at the other Tal’mar.
They had a dozen between them. They spread out around Vann with their bows drawn. River knelt down and placed Micah gently on the cobblestones. He whimpered as she stepped away.
She checked the barrels of her revolver with a grimace. Five shots, she thought. She cursed herself for not bringing an extra bag of bullets. River made up her mind at that moment that she wouldn’t allow the Forgotten to take them alive. She refused to allow her companions to feel the pain of those monsters ripping their bodies to shreds, feeding on them like buzzards. If it came to that, she would kill them first. She was low on ammunition, but one way or another, River would make sure they didn’t suffer that end.
The giants threw their fists in the air and one let out a monstrous roar. The thousands of Forgotten in the street behind them let out a deafening cheer as they emerged from their hiding places. Vann glanced at Loren.
“Light ‘em up,” he said.
Loren dipped the tip of his arrow into the torch, and it burst into flames. He nodded at the other Tal’mar, and they did likewise. River lined up her sights.
“Middle one first,” River said between clenched teeth, and then squeezed the trigger.
The blaze of arrows and gunfire focused on the center warrior. Three flaming arrows burst across his chest and two bullets struck him, first in the shoulder and next in the forehead. The creature stumbled and dropped to its knees. The giant shook its head, confused at first, and then frightened as it saw the flames licking up from its torso. It reached for the arrows, howling painfully. Before it could do more, the creature’s eyes rolled back in its head. The giant dropped face-first to the street.
The remaining two lowered their heads and charged. Vann let out a string of curses as he braced himself for the attack. River fired again, striking the nearest giant twice on the shoulder. The attack didn’t faze him in the slightest. The revolver made an empty clicking sound, and the barrels spun harmlessly. She holstered it and drew her dagger.
The Tal’mar had time to release three more arrows, and then the Forgotten were upon them. The first giant tackled Vann as the chef brought a cleaver down on its shoulder. The sharp utensil bit through the champion’s thick skin, and deep purple blood sprayed across Vann’s face. The giant let out a furious shriek as it bore him to the ground.
River let out a war cry and she leapt onto the creature’s back. It had Vann pinned to the street, and the monster’s fangs were a
n inch from the chef’s throat. Pirate joined the fray, digging his claws into the Forgotten’s flesh and gnawing on the creature’s neck.
River drove her blade into the giant’s rib cage, and the Forgotten instantly forgot about Vann. It leapt backwards, snarling and twisting. The giant caught River in a massive fist and hurled her over its shoulder. River landed hard on the paving stones and stayed there a moment, trying to catch her breath. The giant turned in a circle, howling as it struggled to reach the handle of River’s dagger protruding from its back.
The rest of the forgotten surged forward in a wave. River saw one of Vann’s cleavers lying on the street nearby, and she lunged for it. Armed with the discarded cleaver, she leapt to Micah’s side, brandishing the weapon as the forgotten came crashing over them in a wave.
One by one, the torches and lanterns went out.
River heard the anguished cries of her companions in the darkness around her; the grunting sounds of men and monsters locked in mortal combat. She caught flashes of light here and there: teeth, claws, cold, sharp steel and the dim, distant glow of green at the top of the slope, impossibly far away. She heard Vann’s heavy breathing, punctuated by a non-stop tirade of curses that would have made a Vangar chieftain blush. She slashed at anything that came near her or Micah, hoping that the Tal’mar warriors’ night vision would aid the fight. Even so, River knew it was a futile defense. A few moments more, and they would be overwhelmed.
And then she heard something…
It was a clicking sound at first, soft and distant, barely audible over the din of combat. The sound gradually increased in volume, evolving into a steady rhythmic thudding, like drums crashing in the distance. River sensed confusion among the Forgotten. The tone of their voices changed from that of violent fury to something else, curiosity or fear perhaps.
A cacophonous wailing sound split the air. Instantaneously, a brilliant white light exploded ahead, just up the slope. The Forgotten scattered, hands covering their eyes and ears, crashing into one another in their haste to escape. The light fell on the bodies of the two slain giants. Vann had been steadily whittling away at the second with his cleaver, though -unbeknownst to him- the Tal’mar warriors had already dispatched the creature with their swords in the darkness.
The third giant flew down the slope at full speed, knocking the smaller creatures out of his way as he fled from the piercing light and shrill noise. The adventurers scrambled to their feet, weapons drawn, ready to face this new fast-approaching enemy. As the light came closer, the sound of steel on stone became ear-shattering, and again came that furious wailing sound.
Suddenly, River recognized the sound for what it was: a train whistle. Socrates had activated one of the train’s steamscouts, and had used the vehicle’s whistle and lights to drive away their attackers. The vehicle was designed to travel on railroad tracks, checking for damage and scouting out unexplored territories. When properly equipped, a steamscout could not only repair old railways, but build new ones, and then report the locations back to the engineers. The Iron Horse was equipped with two fully functional steamscouts, but there were several more roaming about the world.
The steamscout lurched to a halt, and the gorilla’s silhouetted shape appeared in front of the scout’s lights. “Everyone get in, now!” Socrates shouted.
River scrambled to gather Micah up in her arms. The others latched onto her, dragging the two of them up the slope. Socrates took Micah from River’s arms and lifted him gently onto the steamscout’s cushioned seat. The ape reached for the controls, and began turning the machine around as the others scrambled to climb aboard.
The steel wheels screeched and threw off sparks as the scout made the climb towards the plateau. When they reached the top of the hill, they found that the crew had built bonfires all along the train, probably in an effort to keep the Forgotten at bay. Socrates leapt from the scout with Micah in his arms.
“Take the controls,” he said to River. “Return the scout to its boxcar, and then get everyone on board. Lock the doors! Loren, come with me.”
River crawled into the scout, pulled the brake lever, and made a beeline for the train. When she reached the scout’s storage car, River backed the steamscout up the ramp, parked it inside, and released the pressure valve. A cloud of steam came hissing out. It fountained up around her and rose to the ceiling, creating a damp cloud across the top of the boxcar.
Using the built-in winch and pulley system, River manually retracted the ramp and slid the door shut with a thunderous rumble. At last, she headed for the infirmary to check on Micah. The halfling was unconscious when she arrived. Socrates was operating on his leg.
“I had to drug him,” Socrates explained. The ape’s internal gears whirred quietly in the silence of the room. “The bone punched through Micah’s skin. After I reset the bone, the Tal’mar will try to mend the injury.”
River nodded. Some of the Tal’mar race were gifted with the ability to heal wounds, but in recent generations this talent had become rare and largely ineffective, due to the fact that contact with iron tended to leach the starfall from their bodies. River’s mother, being half Tal’mar and half human, had been one of the rare cases unaffected by contact with iron. Breeze had a relatively potent skill for healing, but it had taken years for anyone to acknowledge her special gifts.
River had inherited no such talents from her mother, save perhaps for a gift with mechanical devices and engineering. This she credited as much to her mother as to Tinker, the crazy old engineer who had raised her from infancy in her mother’s absence.
“Will he heal?” River said, touching Micah’s forehead. It was cool and clammy.
“I believe so. Micah’s body is not so different from an average human. He has reacted predictably with morphine, and presumably will do so with antibiotics. That should prevent the spread of any infection.”
River nodded, pretending that she understood. Socrates had a library of information stored in his memory circuits. Far more than any single human being could ever learn. This meant that he was capable of dealing with -and planning for- just about any situation. Unfortunately, it almost made him exceedingly difficult to communicate with at times. River thanked Socrates, and turned to leave.
“River, your back,” Socrates said. He stepped around the bed to examine the deep scratches that ran from the center of her back all the way to her left buttock. Her shirt was torn to ribbons, and blood oozed from her open wounds. River winced as Socrates touched her.
“Remove your shirt,” he said.
River rolled her eyes. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“I say that to anyone who needs medical attention in an area of their body that is covered by a shirt,” Socrates said matter-of-factly.
River snorted. “That was a joke, Socrates. You know, a sexual thing?”
“Sex?” said Socrates. “What is that?”
River frowned at him, and Socrates burst out laughing. “Humans,” he said between chuckles. “That was a joke, River.”
“Mmhmm.”
She pulled the shirt off, and Socrates opened a small container of salve. He rubbed it along one of the cuts and River wrinkled up her forehead. She let out a long, slow breath.
“My apologies,” Socrates said. “This will only sting for a moment. It will disinfect the wound and dull the pain as well. You should feel better shortly.”
“I feel it already,” River said, noting the warm, tingling sensation moving across her skin. “That’s nice.”
Socrates frowned. “Perhaps I made this lotion a bit too potent. Shall I try another?”
“It’s fine,” River said.
“Very well. Perhaps, when the Tal’mar are done with Micah, they will have the energy left to check your wounds. Their powers are not like their parents, but-”
“I will be fine, Socrates. I just need to rest. I think I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Good. You will need your strength for what comes next.”
“You’ll do what I order you to do,” he interrupted. “You and every other person on this train are my responsibility. I won’t have you undermine that authority, especially not in this matter. Now go, and rest.”
River wandered down the corridors to her bunkhouse. After stripping off the rags of her shirt and breeches, she slipped quietly into bed. The warm numbing sensation on her back had penetrated her to the core, and River’s eyelids slid shut the moment her head hit the pillow. A serene darkness washed over her, and the world slipped away.
Some time later, a tap at the door roused her from her slumber. River’s eyes snapped open. She sat upright, and glanced out the window. The bonfires had burned low, and a bright green glow filled the cave. The light streamed into her room, illuminating everything. Pirate was curled up at the edge of her pillow, purring quietly like a housecat. The tap on the door came again.
“It’s open,” she said sleepily. River cleared her throat and climbed out of bed, standing nude in the phosphorescent light. The door slid open and Socrates stood facing her, the green light cascading over his midnight blue fur with a purplish glow. His face was dark, almost invisible except for the reflective whites of his eyes and his teeth.
“It’s time,” he said in a low voice.
“Socrates-”
“Now!” he said. He turned away and vanished down the corridor.
River sighed. She dug through the storage drawers, looking for some fresh clothes. The Forgotten had destroyed her one good pair of leather breeches, but she found a loose-fitting canvas pair that were reasonably comfortable, and a white blouse with delicately embroidered cuffs and collar to replace her shirt. The clothes were a bit fancier than River cared for, but they would do for now.
She pulled on her boots and slipped into the hall. Rather than waking Pirate, River slid the door shut quietly behind her, locking the coon inside. She felt guilty about it, but River didn’t want the animal following her around, distracting her for the next few hours. Things were going to be difficult enough as it was.
Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2) Page 7