23.

It wasn’t a living, thinking thing. A war golem shaped of flesh, muscles and sinews straining tightly over the top a metal frame and powered by infernal means. It was strong and brutal and knew not pain or fear. His every blow did naught but cause more blood to flow over the stone ground and it continued to swing its mighty arms about like a drunkard.

A drunkard who fought in a simplistic pattern. Erak was a trained and thinking thing and he figured out the rudimentary attack pattern in only a few cycles. If he could do anything about it was another matter entirely. He gritted his teeth as he dove into the windmilling arms.

He ducked under a swiping arm and jumped to the left to avoid a downward swinging arm. He rushed forward and twisted right, slashing his spear along another outstretched arm. Muscles and tendons separated with an audible pop but it didn’t slow the war machine down.

He was underneath the machine now, inside of its long arms and it could do little but punch straight down ineffectively. It only had the two legs, both oversized and grossly misshapen, but there was a joint he could attack. Erak pitted his rare grade spear against the machine.

He believed that the golem was a sum greater than its part. The dead stripped of dignity and molded to simple metal joints and frame, powered by common power sources, all held together with dark magiks. Erak put the entirety of his body weight behind his blow, piercing muscle and fat and clanging off the metal superstructure. He wiggled the speartip, trying to find a seam and then the spear plunged further in.

Erak twisted, putting his back and legs into pulling the spear towards the gate and away from the soldiers. There was immediate resistance but Erak kept pushing, tendons popping in his neck as he ground his teeth and prayed that the spear outlasted the metal spars.

All resistance disappeared and Erak staggered back, nearly falling down as the front of the golems' knee exploded outward in a geyser of gore. A round orb went sailing away, hitting the stone and bouncing with a clear ping that sounded over the screams and cries of battle.

The golem sagged and collapsed down, barely missing Erak as it fell forward, catching itself at the last moment with its four arms. It was bowed down, giant boxy head near the ground and its back only at neck height. Erak jumped up and clambered to its back, the squishy materials crushed under his weight. Pools of blood formed with every step as he staggered up its back.

If he remembered correctly there was a joint…right here. Erak stabbed down, feeling with the spear as he wiggled about. Something hard clinked and Erak began to cut and leverage as the big golem tried to get up with its ruined leg. Without the power core though, it seemed the leg was inoperable.

Sammus came running up now, Nevia and her team behind him. The prince ran and leapt in a smooth motion, long dagger appearing out of nowhere to stab an arm. He began to climb, moving up the arm with quick motions.

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“Right there, you highness,” Rutledge’s voice came booming out over the battle. The Prince began to cut, sawing away at the flesh in a shower of gore that quickly coated him. Erak redoubled his pace as the rest of the soldiers began to climb up and over, looking for ways to help with their own knives.

The golem was weak now that it was grounded, its great weight and strength rendered useless under sharp knives expertly applied. Erak pried the second core out while Sammus got his first. Nevia wasn’t far behind with her own and the golem began to wilt, flesh sloughing off in greasy blankets. Parts of the frame became visible as Podzki claimed his own orb and then Constance one. Erak looked toward the center of the massive chest and knew what he had to do.

He inhaled deeply, pulling in the tainted air to fill his lungs, and then he cut. Flesh parted along the back where the spine would run and he was worming his way down. His feet twisted and turned, grinding away suddenly rotting flesh, and then he was up to his chest in the machine. He exhaled and breathed in again, filling his lungs even further as he closed his eyes and left his spear buried in the machine.

He wiggled down, further into it. The darkness pressed all around him, hot liquid filled his helmet as he moved by memory. The half constructed machine appearing in his mind as he grabbed struts and pulled his way through liquefying flesh towards where he hoped the core was.

His chest burned and his face was wet. The warmth of the golem pushed through his armor, heat rising as he got closer. His fingers grasped metal and he pulled himself along. He couldn’t feel for the life of him as he worked further and further in, the thick metal of the gauntlets leaving nothing for his tactile senses.

Worry began as his chest burned further. Salt and iron were faint on his tongue no matter how hard he squeezed his lips together. Erak kept searching, the flesh firming to a spongy resistance that parted with more and more effort.

The urge to breath was becoming all consuming. Claustrophobia wormed in his mind as the heat was rising, blanketed in pressure all around in the pitch black.

His hands touched something round and firmly latched into the machine. He tugged and pulled himself towards it. He tried to find something to brace on and finally hooked his feet around struts and began to pry slowly increasing his strength.

The thin metal bands began to bend around him, he could feel it even through the armor. Rage evaporated the panic. Hot and burning it powered him as he thought of the murdered who formed this monstrosity.

Mothers and fathers and children all. Plastered together to form this machine of nightmares. This inefficient waste of resources. The dishonoring of their bodies to build something so pathetic and weak.

Muscles trembled as he yanked harder and he felt the orb begin to shift. The heat crept higher and higher and he began to feel pain even through his suit. Something strained in his chest and shoulders and a roar of pain slipped free. Blood rushed into his open mouth and he gagged, fighting the instincts to heave.

Then the orb was free. Something broke, audible even in the golem, and the orb was against his chest. The heat faded away and then there was a rush as the flesh of the golem came apart completely.

Light streamed into his eyes and Erak spewed blood and bile out as he gasped for fresh air as he dangled upside down with his feet hooked into twisted metal struts. The explosion of rotting flesh rode like a wave over the handful of defenders, blanketing them.

Erak swung above them all like a metal bat, the oversized core clutched in his arms. His spear fell past him, landing in the stone and piercing it with ease to wobble as he swayed back and forth. The blood was rushing to his head as he tugged at his helm to release it and its contents to splatter on the ground.

“Someone should help him down,” Sammus said. Nevia sighed as she sheathed her sword and began to scuttle up the side of the structure, two soldiers behind her. The ground began to shake again, deeper and with more power. Erak twisted back to look at the still glowing tunnel and saw more of the flesh golems entering.

He hoped Nevia would hurry