by Eve Langlais
He shivered. There was something very wrong in this place, and judging by the pallor on Nema’s face, he only felt the edge of it.
“We have to get that chalice,” she stated.
But how? There was a lot of machinery between them and the cup.
“Last one to it is a rotten cog!” Zak declared, and being Zak, he immediately sprinted toward one of the moving arms.
“Frukxing moron.”
“We should split up,” was Nema’s advice as the swarm of drones swooped out of the vent. She leapt forward to the lip of a vat, whereas Ray chose a different direction, eyes in front.
“Remember that time we did the Killer Temple adventure?” Zak shouted.
Ray did. He and his friends had indulged in many virtual adventures, practicing for the day they’d one day leave their world and go hunting gears on their own. Little did he know he’d be thankful for that practice. It came in handy as he leaped and grabbed a dangling chain, setting it swinging back and forth until he had enough momentum to let go and land on a tiny metal ledge.
His arms shot out for balance. He still almost fell.
Bzzzz. A drone slammed into him, the whirring blades of its propellers doing their best to shave him. Ray grabbed it, crushed it in his fist. The little ones weren’t a problem.
Brrrrr. A glance over his shoulder showed the bigger ones had arrived via a different entrance. He’d never mock Ursy and her grumbling about smart machines again.
Duck. Almost a shouted command but by no actual voice. He nonetheless crouched and eyed the giant hook that went sailing past.
Thanks. It seemed only right to think it. He might need help again.
Across from him, Zak battled against a spinning dervish with blades. Whereas Nema… Shit, she’d almost reached the cup.
Ray threw himself into motion again, impulse somehow getting him through a gauntlet that would have turned him into meat sludge had he been just a tad slower. As he reached the piled cogs before the altar, the floor rumbled beneath him. Gears shifted on the pile, sliding down, and he shifted to avoid touching any of them.
The altar opened, and a mecha monster rumbled out, the shape of it almost canine, with four legs that clicked on the floor as it walked. Its head was all mouth, with rusty serrated teeth. As for its body, a mess of swirling cogs.
Even worse, it set its sights on Nema.
She began to move in ways that mocked gravity and bone structure. Faster than the eye could follow, she dipped and swerved, ducked and leaped. Her knives swinging and clanging off the metal parts of the monster.
Had it been made of flesh, she would have won.
It struck her down, the slash of its jagged leg ripping across her thigh, drawing blood.
“Nema!” Ray bellowed as he joined the fight. “Come play, metal monster.” He drew its attention and pulled his gun. Took quick aim and fired at its head. He hit it dead center, punching a hole that went right through. Yet it kept coming.
“Frukx!” He fired again and again before diving to the side, narrowly missing being steam-rolled by the beast.
“This is how you tame a beast,” yodeled Zak.
Ray rolled in time to see his friend riding the metallic monster, one hand holding on as it tried to buck him off, the other sawing at wiring, poking at pins, taking it apart in pieces until the beast collapsed.
“Good job!” he yelled.
Zak grinned at him, a smile that faded as he looked past Ray.
He whirled in time to see Nema lifting the filthy chalice to her lips.
“No!” he yelled.
Her gaze flicked to him for just a moment before she drank.
20
The wrongness in the heart of the factory, along with the despair, hit Nema hard.
Most disturbing of all, familiarity.
No wonder the Lake was so agitated by the sentient metal. It recognized a piece of itself, lost long ago—and now sick. So very ill after all that had been done.
Artuur’s request to destroy was the quickest solution, and perhaps the most merciful.
The moment she reached that cup and looked at the water left inside—stagnant and angry—the Lake rose in her, powerful and commanding.
Drink.
She’d prefer not to.
Drink. It is the only way to stop the sickness from spreading any further.
To stop any more of the tainted gears from being distributed.
“How about instead we fire it in a furnace and burn the taint out?”
Noooo. The Lake inside her wailed. It wanted her to take that foulness into her body.
She didn’t want to drink, but as a handmaiden, she had a duty.
Still she stared a moment longer at the surface, long enough that the gash in her leg was healed by the waters still keeping her strong.
Hadn’t there been enough death?
Kill me. Go ahead. The liquid in the cup trembled. Daring her.
And in that request, she felt its anguish. Its relief that it would finally end.
It tasted even more foul than expected, but she forced it down, her stomach rebelling. Even the Lake was repulsed by the vileness. The rancid water itself had a moment to be astonished, then gleeful.
Freedom.
It wasted no time trying to take over her body. A plan for domination flashed through her mind, countered by the Lake, who reminded the part it had lost that its purpose was for peace.
As the battle for dominance began, she hit the floor, the surface hard on her knees. Her hand loosened, and the empty chalice went rolling and clanging. Not that she cared. She hugged herself, gasping and gagging. Through a roar of static, she heard Ray and Zak calling her name.
Then she was somewhere else.
He knelt on the edge of the Lake, a king, and yet he’d taken off his crown. He scooped the water to drink, something forbidden, but he tired of the rules. Tired of his Lady always telling him what he could and could not do. A lady who thought he didn’t notice when she went missing for hours with her personal guard.
She keeps us prisoner, grumbled the Lake lapping the shore.
Not all the water agreed. A big wave surrounded the smaller one, as if to admonish.
The Lady protects us.
But the little wave, new to the world and chafing at the confines of the Lake, wanted more. Just like Artuur.
Together they devised a plan.
And for a while, the adventure proved grand. Until Artuur decided he’d had enough. But rather than set the little wave free, he buried all the disciples, tried to destroy all they had forged. Then, when he took his own life, forgot the little wave in that chalice buried deep in a dead factory, a puddle in a cup, and even more of a prisoner than before.
Alone, it changed over time, the scattered pieces of it slumbering, unable to act until an intrepid explorer found one of the long-lost gears and the little wave awoke.
Angry.
Bitter.
“Aaaaawww.” Nema came back to herself with a deeply drawn breath. It took a moment to orient herself and realize she hung down Ray’s back.
“Hold on, baby. We’re getting out of here.”
Out? But how? The rover was dead. That didn’t stop Ray from running, and she heard Zak huffing from up ahead.
“Almost there. We should see starlight any moment now.”
She noticed they were running through some kind of ice-rimmed tunnel. “Where are we?” she croaked.
“Vent tunnels for the factory. They run all over the place.”
“Did we win?” Because she wasn’t entirely sure.
“Ask me once we get off this planet,” Zak grumbled.
“Since you’re awake now…” Ray flipped Nema to her feet but kept an arm around her waist.
Zak tucked close to the other side, and she noticed they were in a small cavern lightly lit by the hole he’d burnt in the ice overhead. The rumbling below their feet intensified.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“The facto
ry is coming apart. By drinking what was in that chalice, you took out the pin that held it together,” Ray explained.
“So we won and lost.”
“Who says we lost?” Zak offered her a grin.
“We can’t survive on the surface long enough to make it to the ship.”
“Good thing my ship is smart enough to come to us.” Zak winked and aimed his wrist at the thin ice overhead. “Penetrating the ice to send a signal. Hold your breath, baby. It’s going to get chilly for a minute.”
Understatement. If she’d not clamped her lips, she might have lost what little air she had. The Lake, while weakened by its battle with the lost wave, stirred enough to heat her.
Ray noticed. “She’s better than a bag of hot gears in a cold bed,” he declared.
“I’m not sure I want to know why you bed metal parts,” she said wryly.
“Widening the hole for extraction. You might want to cover your eyes for this part.”
Ray cupped her head and pulled it to his shoulder. She heard more than felt the tinkle of ice as it came down. Even more cold air swirled into the cave.
“Not much longer,” Ray murmured, holding her tight.
“Bubble time.”
Before she could ask Zak what he meant, a bubble encased them and drew them out of the small ventilation cavern, drawing them into the belly of the ship. Once on board, she couldn’t help but peer out a window as the planet cracked, crevices zigzagging across the surface.
And then, with her most deadpan expression, she looked at Ray, then Zak. “I swear, I didn’t mean to ruin another planet.”
They must have believed her because they didn’t shoot her this time. And they spent quite a bit of time in bed.
She enjoyed some of her happiest moments after they vanquished the mecha origin. Whispered how much she loved them at the height of climax. Clung tight to their promises to cherish her forever and ever.
She’d found not one but two mates.
Which was why it was so hard to leave.
21
It took some fancy maneuvering to lose Zak and Ray, but Nema had learned quite a bit since her naïve self had left Avhallonn.
When they stopped to refuel, she commandeered another vessel that was just leaving and then jumped to another, muddying her trail. For the last leg of her journey, she bought a ship she could fly alone.
She didn’t return the same handmaiden who’d left. Her arrival was met with little fanfare, just her mother greeting her at the port, hugging her a moment before Nema burst into tears.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s over.” The only thing she could say that encompassed everything. How to explain she’d met two amazing males? That she wanted to give up everything she’d ever wanted for them. Only she couldn’t.
Artuur had thought he could leave and take part of the Lake with him. It didn’t end well, which meant, while she could leave on short jaunts, unless she wished to give up the Lake, she could never truly leave home.
Which brought about her dilemma with Zak and Ray. Despite her removing the source, they still had the sentient metal inside them, and while it didn’t have same taint as the stuff in the factory, she feared those on Avhallonn would see the Siyborgh as a threat and destroy them.
Problem was, leaving them just about wrecked her.
The morning after her arrival, she visited the Lake, dressed once more as a handmaiden in her white leathers, her hair loose around her shoulders, armed with only her daggers.
Her grandmother had also chosen to greet her in her finest regalia, and all three first ladies stood by her side. The other handmaidens were scattered around the lake, all bearing witness as Nema knelt in front of the High Lady.
“Handmaiden, you have returned. Did you succeed?” More of a formality question than anything.
“I located the origin of the sentient mecha parts.”
“You destroyed it?”
“In a sense.” Nema finally raised her gaze. “The factory making the parts is no more. That which Artuur stole has been found and neutralized.” The kernel of it now rested within.
For a moment her grandmother said nothing. “Artuur? There is a name I never thought to hear in my lifetime. Well done, granddaughter. There is only one task left.” She pointed to the shores of the Lake. “Bring that which was stolen back to where it belongs.”
Rising, Nema stepped slowly to the edge of the Lake. She kicked off her boots and dropped her weapons by them but left her clothes on. She waded into the water and could hear it shouting in welcome.
Home. You’re home.
And despite everything the little wave had done, there was forgiveness, and rejoicing, and…
A disturbance in the force?
Despite being under water, she saw the impact of two objects hitting the surface from above and sinking rapidly. Once the turmoil settled, she blinked through the clearness at Zak, who grinned, and Ray, who didn’t.
Her mouth opened, and bubbles escaped as she mouthed, Are you crazy?
Ray blew a “yes” whereas Zak placed a hand on his heart and pointed to her.
She didn’t know how they found her, but she suddenly feared.
Get out, she shouted.
Too late. Their eyes widened a moment before their bodies bowed, arching violently and trembling. Before she could swim to them, they rose out of reach on a pillar of water.
She kicked to the surface and emerged yelling, “Don’t hurt them!”
Fear not, handmaiden.
The Lake sounded almost amused, but she couldn’t breathe, especially because she saw the metal falling from their bodies, landing with a splash.
She treaded water until the pillars lowered and Zak and Ray joined her in floating. Whole. Not bleeding. And alive.
She blinked. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Ray peered in confusion at his hand, the flesh unbroken, the cogs he used to have gone.
Zak exclaimed, “It’s all gone.”
“Not exactly. More like sunk.” She pointed to the clear bottom, where the metal sat, a stream of bubbles rising from it as if it reacted to the water.
“I feel good, though.” Ray frowned. “How is that possible?”
Because the Lake had decided to bless them.
“How did you get here?” she asked as they stroked toward the shore.
“We followed you.”
“Followed me? You idiots,” she hissed. “They’ll kill you for coming here like this.”
Indeed, she could see the handmaidens poised around the lake, spears and swords in hand, ready to skewer them the moment they stepped out of the water.
“We had to come,” said Ray. “It was the only way to get the voice inside me to shut up.”
“Besides, don’t you know it’s rude to leave without saying goodbye?” Zak admonished.
She didn’t know what to say.
You can start with thank you.
The Lake sounded almost smug.
From the shore, her mother barked, “Nema, who are these males invading our most sacred place?”
Looking at them, there was only one answer that seemed right.
“My mates.”
Epilogue
It wasn’t Nema’s declaration that saved Zak and Ray in the end, but the Lake itself. For the first time since Artuur’s betrayal, the waters in the cave chose to elevate a pair of males to the role of handknaves.
Once everyone got over their shock—and the three of them had an evening spent in naked debauchery where she promised to never run away again—they were given a new mission. To seek out the sentient cogs and gears scattered around the galaxy and bring the other missing parts of the Lake home.
Not every Siyborgh who learned the truth chose to rid themselves of the metal by purifying themselves in the Lake. The truly religious screamed it was blasphemy and denied the true origin of the Grail.
Others reveled in their cogs and gears, fearing the loss of them would render them
mundane. They chose to not believe Zak and Ray when they told them they were stronger without the metal. Their loss.
The good news was, with the destruction of the factory and the rescue of the original water, the taint no longer spread. The cogs in use would eventually wear out.
As for Nema? She turned down the promotion to lady in waiting, declaring that with her space travel experience she made the perfect emissary.
She’d never been happier in her life.
Until they grounded her. With good reason, as the child growing within swelled her body.
When the baby was born, with a mighty wail in the waters of the Lake. who demanded the privilege of attending the birth, she gave a present to the little wave by naming him Artuur, knowing by his big inquisitive eyes he would one day dream big, too.
But unlike the king she named him for, she’d teach him to never fear coming home.
Some galactic years later…
Artuur squirmed in his bed. “I’m not tired. I want my mama.”
“Mama’s off hunting the big furry things on the mountain,” Zak said. Also known as “keeping her sanity” time. Which meant it was his and Ray’s turn to put their progeny to bed.
“Tell me a story,” begged his son, who used every excuse to not close his eyes.
“Which one?”
“Want Jewel!” yelled their daughter, Gwen, carried into the room by Ray. who, judging by his wet spiked hair, didn’t have an easy time of bathing her.
“Yes!” Artuur almost bounced right out of his bed. “Tell us the story of the first Mecha Prophet.”
Ray cast him a glance. “Exactly what have you told them?”
Zak shrugged. “The truth. After all, if it weren’t for Jool Ius’verrn finding the first mecha temple, we might have never met Nema. In essence, this is a love story.”
Artuur predictably gagged, but Gwen smiled as she lisped, “Once upon a time…”
“There was a mighty explorer whose planet was dying. And so he set off on a grand adventure to find the First Gear.”