*
An hour later they set off from the sheltering timber, heading in the direction of the setting sun once more. With Maloch helping Kingston walk, they were soon out of view, and therefore did not see the tree shimmer and vanish. Nor did they see the sudden downpour of rain which doused the flaming Voxner, which soon sank into the earth and disappeared for good.
After a few hours of silent walking, they stopped once more. As they had walked, the sun had continued to sink towards the horizon, bathing the land in light. Barsch’s stomach rumbled as he desperately tried to convince it that food was coming soon. Dropping down towards a small, clear pool half-hidden in an outcrop, he drank greedily. Even Alza, who was normally a pillar of fortitude, was eyeing the liquid hungrily.
Wiping his mouth he asked, “Maloch, how far away are we?”
“The village of Wareven lies a few hours to the north-west. Unfortunately, the cóyotl that attacked us seem to have come from the same direction.”
Kingston grimaced as he remembered the brutal attack, but decided to continue on nonetheless, as the village was the only shelter for miles. With a weary sigh, he packed up his belongings and filled his flask. His bandaged chest shuddered with every movement, but he endured it. He would not be the one who slowed them down.
After a moment, Alza and Barsch followed, with Maloch bringing up the rear. As they walked, the landscape became more lush and vibrant, with several verdant trees appearing.
Eventually their progress was halted by a fast-flowing river, which led down to the lower plains. It lay between them and Wareven, another obstacle to be added to the list. The river was fifty feet wide at the bend, and several feet deep. Countless half-submerged boulders created a myriad of unreadable currents, which were most likely strong enough to drag a man under in seconds. The greenish sheen on the water surface told of a hidden miasma, and the fast flowing stream appeared to be devoid of all life. Downstream lay the remnants of an old steel bridge, its cables sheared and its girders corroded.
“Sky bridge: Fell through. Wooden bridge: Collapsed. Steel bridge? Not a chance.”
The golden disk above was nearing the distant mountains, robbing the plateau of light and warmth. A slightly more infuriating sight was the low profile of the village, which lay a few miles from the opposite bank. Kingston’s mind had been filled with images of warm beds and hot food for hours, and the sight of such luxuries just out of reach almost brought him to tears.
The three humans watched the swift river with a group weariness. They had faced hypercanes, plane crashes and monstrous sandstorms and survived each one. And now, they were stumped by a simple river.
The only entity not mired in depression or anger was Maloch, who lacked the necessary emotions for either. In fact, he seemed oddly relaxed, as he sat by the riverside, making calculations in the sand. With the temperature dropping and hopes disappearing, he suddenly stood and announced, “Geo-mapping complete. Water currents calculated. Flow variables configured. River crossing plotted.”
“What are you going on about?” asked an irritable Kingston.
“Pardon my brashness. I was merely announcing that I have plotted a course through the river, using natural depth variations and counter-currents. If I have your permission, I will begin ferrying you across to the other side.”
“Well I’ll be... Wait a minute, are you sure you can do that in your... um, condition?” His gaze took in the multitude of scratches and holes in the self-sacrificing re-mech, along with the corrosive river behind him.
“I have calculated that my chassis has a one in ten chance of complete degradation, though my programming assures that the rewards, i.e., your safety, outweigh the risks. By comparison, our previous… experiences, have been much more dangerous.”
“I know, I know. If I had a choice in the matter, I would go the long way around, but with those cóyotl in the area and night approaching, I have to agree. I’m sorry for asking this of you once again, but please help us.”
“Authorisation received. Your sentiments are understood and appreciated. Mistress Alza, would you please climb up?”
In one deft movement, Alza reached up and clambered atop the mechanical giant. Slowly he turned and entered the raging water. His presence caused several new eddies to form around him, turning him into a walking whirlpool. As he walked, the water rose higher and higher, from feet, to knee joints, to chest, before levelling out just beneath where his neck would be if he were human. Alza was forced to stand on his shoulders, while displaying a remarkable level of balance for someone in the middle of a torrent. More than once, Maloch miss-stepped and dropped a foot into some unseen chasm, leaving Alza apparently standing on water.
After five minutes of heart stopping worry, Maloch began to rise from the surf. Inch by inch, he reclaimed height. Without waiting for him to kneel, Alza jumped from the seven-foot tall re-mech. She landed like a cat, with both grace and poise. Immediately, she began to survey the bank for potential enemies, her shining eyes scything through the deepening gloom.
After making sure she was okay, Maloch turned and headed back across the treacherous estuary. A few minutes later, he was back among them, though his dimming eyes told of a weariness that could not be hidden. When questioned about it, he muttered something about still having plenty of battery remaining before setting to work on securing Kingston to his back. It soon became apparent that the initial pose was unfeasible, so Maloch was forced to carry the injured old man in his hands, holding him high above his submerged frame.
His aquatic journey was even worse than the first, and he seemed to stumble and fall at every turn. Both re-mech and man were quite drenched when they finally reached the opposite bank, but neither veteran uttered so much as a whimper of displeasure. Once more, after making sure Kingston was okay, Maloch crossed the eroding brook. By the time he made it back to Barsch, he was almost crawling.
Ignoring the youth’s concern for his wellbeing, Maloch firmly placed Barsch on his waterlogged shoulders. On his first attempt to stand, he fell to his knees. On his second, he managed to take three steps before collapsing.
The light in his eyes was almost out, when he said, “Warning, battery levels critical, imminent charging advised. Error, charging failed. Error, systems starting to shut down. Accessing power management options. Disabling all non-essential systems... systems disabled. Power levels stable. Error. Unknown back-up program activated... codename: Undying Soldier. Time to full activation... thirty minutes. Attempting to shut down unknown program. Error. Access is denied. Program is encrypted with enigma key. Time to bypass security measures... infinity plus one second. Rerouting all remaining power to mobility systems. Warning, guidance systems will be severely limited. Warning overridden.”
As if he had been hit with a turbocharger, Maloch’s eyes began to glow brightly, cutting through the dusk gloom. On his third attempt to stand, he was successful, though he wasted no time on celebrations. With a furious pace, he charged into the freezing water, his core fighting to keep him operational. Barsch could do nothing except hold on and pray the re-mech would not run out of steam before they made it across.
However, for all his zeal, the crossing was slow-paced, as the virtually blind re-mech fought to stay on course. Every step was a struggle, and try as he might, they were slowly swept downstream, towards the jagged remains of the bridge. Still, Barsch did not give up, trying to will the bank closer, as Kingston watched with anxiety stark on his face.
They almost made it.
Another few feet; a more sturdy piece of riverbed; a slower current, if they had had any of those they would have made it. What they did have, unfortunately, was a riverbank just out of reach; a crumbling underwater ridge; and a current that surged at the same moment the ridge gave way. They were dropped, unceremoniously, into the turbulent, frigid waters.
Immediately, all thoughts of a cosy bed and a cooked dinner were ripped from Barsch’s mind, as the rapids tried their hardest to tear him li
mb from limb. After a few seconds, he realised that he was not in fact floating down the river, on his way to a jagged end. Using the last gasps of air in his burning lungs, he pondered why. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the reason for his continued existence: Maloch. In the split-second it had taken for the ridge to collapse, the re-mech had dug in his over-sized feet into the soft riverbed, anchoring Barsch in place. He was still in imminent danger of drowning, but at least he was stationary.
However, his joy was to be short lived, as he could already feel the ice-cold water begin to numb his fingers, which had impulsively wrapped themselves around Maloch’s outstretched arm. With his chest tight and his vision swimming, he was in no shape to pull himself to safety. Judging by Maloch’s inactivity, it was taking the re-mech everything he had to remain where he was.
He could not save them.
As he was wasting his oxygen pondering his seemingly inescapable fate, Barsch felt a change in the current. It was slight, but to his panic stricken senses, it was massive. At first, he looked to the most likely culprit, but Maloch seemed to be just as surprised as he was. The pressure changed once more, and Barsch swore that it was getting easier to breathe. Suddenly, he felt a ray of dying sunshine hit his soaked head, causing him to look up. With his free hand, he wiped away the accrued salt from his eyes and blinked rapidly, hoping that what he saw was not a near-death hallucination.
Along the width of the river, the water was receding, as if a giant had just sliced the stream in two. The gap widened, as the water was pushed back, which left Barsch coughing and spluttering on the exposed riverbed. Maloch, no longer fighting to stay still, fell over as if struck. With the river parting around them, Barsch could only sit and stare at the biblical spectacle that had saved him. He was so wrapped up in his awe, that he failed to hear the tortured scream from somewhere above him. The second scream snapped him out of his daze, and he quickly turned to its source.
Alza sat at what had only moments ago been the water’s edge, arms firmly planted in the loose dirt. Her hair was buffeted by an unseen gust and her eyes shone like two miniature suns. However, dropping his gaze from her entrancing eyes, he saw the rictus of pain in her clenched teeth. Squeezing one word out at a time, she said, “Hurry... up... I can’t... hold... on!”
Realising his folly, he quickly rushed over to the fallen re-mech, urging him to rise once more. The water was already starting to reclaim lost ground when he finally succeeded, and they barely managed to stumble up the bank before the river was whole once more.
Barsch, still coughing and spluttering out a river’s worth of water, sought out his saviour. As he watched, she fell forward, her eyes losing their shine as her ivory framed head hit the soft earth. Scrambling to her side, he hastily asked, “Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay!”
This was directed towards Kingston, who had begun to move before her body had even hit the ground. After a few painfully long seconds, he answered, “She’s alive, but I doubt she’ll be on her feet anytime soon. Not that I’m surprised, mind you. Parting rivers should be left to the gods.”
Barsch tried to think, but his body was still trying to recover from its freezing plunge only moments before. His skin felt cold and clammy, and his body cried out for sleep. Fighting off exhaustion and hypothermia, he stared in the direction of the distant village. He then looked at Alza, noting her chest rising and falling slowly. Too slowly.
His closing eyes took in Maloch, who was watching him with dimming eyes, as well as Kingston, whose breathing had grown ragged and slow. He shut his eyes, trying to think of a way to get everyone to safety, whilst knowing that someone would have to be sacrificed. He shut his eyes even tighter, trying to block out the harshness of reality.
With a heavy heart, he turned to Maloch and said, “Maloch, would you mind carrying Kingston?”
“I don’t need to be carried like some infant, boy!” Kingston’s outburst was clearly fuelled by pride and perhaps a hint of embarrassment. If everyone wanted to reach the village alive, there could be no room for either.
“Yes, you do,” Barsch replied, trying his best to imitate Alza’s cold demeanour. It was the only way, he told himself, until he believed in his own lie.
“Humph!” snorted Kingston, who looked ready to waste precious time on a unjustified rant. Thankfully his speech was ended before it even started by Maloch’s firm grip. Hoisting the protesting hermit into his secure embrace, he began to walk towards the village.
Barsch was about to copy the re-mech when a familiar howl pierced the awkward silence. The howl was soon joined by others of its ilk, until the sound seemed to come from every direction at once. To Barsch, the howls were filled with menace and hunger, and, to his deepening despair, they were coming closer. Mentally forcing himself to stay awake, he gently scooped Alza into his protective embrace. She was strangely light, which was a worry for a less dire time.
Ignoring her ethereal weight, he set off at a slow trot, which was the fastest he could manage without falling over from exhaustion. Maloch strode ahead of him, his gleaming eyes creating a path of light to follow. Together, they ran onwards, praying that the distant village would offer some safety.
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