Whoosh.

Snow blew past Firril as she looked down the slope into the docks. Beside her, Runa stood, hand on her cane and bent forward, her warm winter coat wrapped around her and her face hidden by her silvered goggles and scarf. Gary stood out in front, his massive sword balanced on his shoulder as he looked over the snowy haze.

The port's ruined buildings were just grey shadows in the fog, and even Firril's mechanical eyes could not see them as more than dark boxes. The ship had landed out inside the storm. She had heard it in the silence between gusts of wind. Now, they only waited for the intruders to come out from the icy mist.

Crackle.

Snow shifted in the distance as the wind calmed. Firril clenched her fist tight as she tried to peer through the mist. Four distinct shadows approached, the largest of them carrying an object over its shoulder. Firril looked over to Runa and saw the old woman drawing a metal box out of her coat pocket and holding it up with one gloved hand.

"Time to see if these old machines still work," she whispered with a smirk as she pressed a button on the device.

Hmm.

Electricity hummed to life in the snow, and two domes rose. Scuffed metal reflected what little light came through the clouds above as panels opened on the two turrets and long barrels extended out. They were pointed directly at the intruders.

"Wait," a man whispered from the fog, holding up a blob that Firril assumed was his hand.

Click.

Lights clicked on either side of the turrets, illuminating the area partially. Most of the light reflected off of the snow that still fell across the area, but instead of barely visible blobs, Firril finally saw the intruders' forms in the bright white lights.

Four people, dressed in red and black heavy coats, their eyes covered with goggles and their faces wrapped in masks, approached in the snow. The largest one held a bundle over his shoulder, but they were otherwise unarmed. The second smallest of the figures stood at the front of the group, his hand in front of him and open as they stood frozen in the lights.

"That's far enough," Runa said, the wind dying down for a moment to let her voice carry. "You folks better turn around and go back where you came from. We don't want any MPs on this island."

The strangers looked at each other before the one in the front spoke, still holding his hand up.

"We're not with the Military Police," he said, a trail of white vapor coming out from his scarf. "Our ship had some problems, and we needed to land on your island. From our ship's records, it was abandoned."

"Well, it isn't," Runa said, coughing a few times before she continued. "Go back to your ship and limp out of here. We don't want any trouble."

She held her finger on the button to activate the turrets. Firril knew several were hidden in the island, long deactivated and unused. She wasn't even sure if they all worked. However, since Gary was standing in front with his sword, she wasn't worried. Even if the turrets didn't work, Gary would be able to deal with the strangers.

"Alex," a woman said next to the man.

"Don't worry. Everyone get ready."

The big man sat down his bundle, and Runa sighed. Firril knew Runa didn't want to hurt people, but the island had to be kept safe. Firril held herself still and wished she had eyes to close as Runa pressed the button.

Click. Brrt. Click. Brrt.

The turrets warmed to life, clicking bullets into place before shooting out a stream of smoke and fire. If Firril had ears, they would have echoed with the sound of gunfire, but instead, she only flinched at the sound. Snow jumped up in a line as the turrets tracked up, but something odd happened when they reached the intruders.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

The bullets ricocheted off and away from the group like a bubble of force surrounded them. Firril moved without thinking, standing in front of Runa as a few bullets whizzed back in their direction. After a few moments, the turrets ran out of ammunition.

Click. Click. Click.

"Well," Runa said, clicking the remote again. "I didn't really expect that. Gary!"

"On it." Gary hefted his sword in both hands, raising it above his head and carving a path through the snow with his feet as he charged.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Sayed!"

The largest of the group charged forward, drawing two swords from his back and catching Gary's sword as it came down. The snow around them parted from the force of Gary's swing. For a moment, Firril was sure that the swordsman had been crushed.

Ding.

"You seem like a strong opponent, metal man," Sayed said, pushing back against the blade. "Besting you in a fight would be worthy of a grand tale!"

Firril had no idea what was happening. She could never have imagined someone stopping Gary's sword. He was an automaton built to fight despite his delusion of being human. He practiced daily with his blade, and it easily weighed enough to crush a person in one swing.

"What do we do, Runa?" Firril turned back to Runa, but she had her eyes on something else.

"Is that..." Runa whispered.

Firril followed her gaze to where the large man had sat down the bundle. The bundle moved slowly in the snow, like a cone with legs, as it walked toward the man who still held out his hand. Blue eyes flickered in the blowing snow as it watched the fight, and Firril realized that whatever it was, it wasn't a human.

"Gary!" Runa said, hobbling forward on her cane past Firril and into the fight. "Stop."

Gary pulled back on his sword immediately, stepping backward but still ready to take another swing. The big man did the same, holding his two swords at his side but not continuing the fight. A cold wind blew snow across the area as Runna hobbled forward and past Gary, right toward the blue-eyed figure in several layers of heavy clothes.

"M.A.R.I.," she whispered, falling to her knees in the snow in front of the figure. "Is that you?"

"This unit is now designated 'Mari,'" the figure said, looking down at Runa.

Runa looked up at the figure as she knelt in the snow, white mist coming out from her scarf as another burst of cold wind blew across the area. Runa mumbled, but Firril couldn't hear her. Firril trudged forward in the snow, clearing a path, hoping that she could hear what Runa was saying.

"It's been twenty years," Runa whispered. "Is it time?"

Cough.

A hacking fit came over Runa as she gasped for air and collapsed. She curled in on herself, and Firril hurried over to her, her body clanking as she knelt next to the old woman and rested one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes assessed Runa's face and found that she was running a fever. The warm clothing certainly heightened her temperature, but Firril knew she needed to get Runa back to her room.

She shouldn't have come out into the storm to begin with.

"Well," the man in front said, putting his hand down as he stared at Runa. "I'm not sure what to do here, but is she okay?"

"She is sick," Firril said. "Please just leave, like she asked. We need to get her back up to the keep."

"I can't do that." The man sighed, kneeling to be at eye level with her. "How about this: We get her back to your home together and talk about it out there. As easy as it would be for us to blow past the three of you, I don't want to do that. We can't talk it out here, so you get grandma here safe and warm, and then we can talk about what's going on here someplace that isn't freezing cold."

Firril tilted her head, her eyes roving between Runa and the man. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but it might have been uncertainty. She picked Runa up from the snow, taking care as she cradled the old woman in her arms. Firril turned to Gary.

"Can you watch them?"

"I can." Gary's electric voice warbled through his scarf.

"Then you can come with us," Firril said before marching through the snow.

The strangers followed behind her, and Firril was uncertain. She didn't know what the strangers wanted, but they hadn't attacked Runa, even after the turrets had shot at them first. That brought a certain level of trust in her mind. At least, that was what Runa had programmed into her.

----------------------------------------

Alex nodded to Erin before they all began to follow the two machines up the path. He didn't know where they were going, and in truth, he could barely see the world around them. The heavy wind and constant light snow from the clouds above obscured any thought of seeing beyond a few meters around them. The machines could be leading them to their death in the snow, for all he knew.

However, he trusted his instincts.

Not far down the road, he spotted a machine that was only just starting to be covered with snow. It was a metal minecart on a barely hidden track with a wheel and seat at its front. The basket on the back was large enough to carry a massive amount of materials down to the docks. Considering the tunnels into the mountain, Alex guessed it was used to ferry ore down to the port for export. He could even smell the earthy mineral smell of the rocks that it had once carried as they got close.

"Get in," the machine carrying the old woman said, gesturing at the cart and setting the old woman inside before climbing in herself.

The large sword-wielding machine sat in the front chair, his large frame comically dwarfing the wheel but still managing to balance in it. Alex turned back to the rest of the group and shrugged but got in all the same. Their winter gear and the cold wind were making conversation difficult, but they managed to coordinate scrambling over the walls of the cart nonetheless.

Clank. Whir.

The cart's engine warmed to life and started down the track. Alex took a moment to notice the rust on the sides of the cart. The port had been in ruins, and the carts were stained with rust. He had been surprised when the turrets had fired at all. Everything on the island looked like it had been abandoned for the last two decades, which was what he expected out of a quarantined island.

Except for the two machines piloting the cart. From what he could see of the sword-wielding one, they looked almost new and shiny. The old woman had been taking care of them for however long she had been on the island.

Creak. Crack-Boom.

The cart creaked over the tracks as they came up the hill, right as a streak of purple lightning lashed out from the clouds above and struck against the side of the mountain. Alex had to pull up his goggles and rub at his eyes, and the cold bit at him the moment his skin touched the icy air outside. He suppressed a curse as he slid the goggles back on.

"Once we get to the tunnels, we'll be safe from the wind and the lightning, " the machine said, her hand on the old woman's shoulder as they rode on.

Once he blinked the spots out of his eyes, he looked ahead, noticing the tracks disappearing into the open dark maw of a large tunnel. The cart sped up as they approached the tunnel, and the sword-wielding machine leaned forward on the handle as they passed through the tunnel entrance and into darkness.