Daveth stepped out of the compound, eyeballing Arcene, laying on a cot near the corner, eyes clenched tight against the pain, curled in almost fetal position. In the deserts of Bel-Arib, Aurene had told him that the Wolfsblood had incredible powers of regeneration, but Daveth had his doubts. Arcene had taken several heavy shots that had punched through her plate armor almost as if it were tissue paper. You just couldn’t take that sort of damage and walk away from it unless you had some extremely potent mage healers close at hand.
The Tross had been brought inside the Manufactorium and into the building they were using as a staging ground to clear out the rest of the facility. He dispatched the scout squadrons to pull all the squads back to the staging area. Information would be gathered, collated, and maps would be made.
Alysia and Lynnabel were crossing swords; Daveth noticed that they were using the blades that had been stripped from the mechanical skeleton. The blades didn't have a crossguard or even a proper handguard or hilt; they simply wrapped leather cordage around the tang as an improvised grip.
Well, if they were happy with it, who was he to complain?
“Why are we tasked with cleaning these up?” Orelia approached him, holding a handful of ammunition. “They do not seem particularly useful.”
She handed over a number of long brass cartridges.
“Oh, they’re valuable, all right.” Daveth replied. “Arcene took several of these and they went right through her armor.”
“But the weapon they’re used in is destroyed.” Orelia disputed.
“We’ve got several of those weapons on the landships we sent to the mines. Likely we’ll need to resupply them when we meet up with them.”
Orelia nodded at that, thumbing her chin thoughtfully.
One of Audra’s scouts ran up and saluted with a tap of a fist to his chest. “All teams present and accounted for.” He paused and glanced to the side, “we lost two men and a horse to one of the golems that fired on us.”
Daveth looked at the collapsed remains of the mechanical skeleton that was a bit more than twice as tall as he was.
“Not one of those, I hope.”
The man eyed the thing, but shook his head. “It was smaller. Carried a massive sword, but never once used it. Just... boom, and two of our men went down.”
“Shit.” Daveth returned. “You able to take it out?” He asked, and the man gave him a bewildered look.
“How? Our arrows bounced off the thing like we were tossing cotton balls at it. No way someone could hit it with something that could even dent it.”
“Shit.” Daveth repeated. “You fall back?” He asked, and the man nodded. “Brought this back.”
He hauled out a chunk of lozenge-shaped steel, roughly the size of your average loaf of bread. Daveth hefted it. “Heavy. Where’d you get it?”
“It’s what got shot at us.” The man reported succinctly.
“Son of a bitch.” Daveth barked wonderingly. He turned to Orelia. “Can you do what I did? Throw this hard enough to punch a hole in it?”
She glanced up at him.
“I daresay this sounds like a prelude to an insult.” She remarked, eyes flashing.
“It’s a question of what you can and can’t do.” Daveth disputed patiently. “I’ve only got a couple more cannonballs left. I’m the only one that can kill these things from long range. If the two of us can do the same thing, then that doubles our chances of survival. Stop being a bitch and making everything out to be a competition between the two of us. You know you can’t beat me, you’ve been trying for the past three months on the trip over here. Stop working against me and start working with me.” Daveth argued, and grabbed Orelia’s arm and slapped the steel into her hand. “Can you do it, or not?”
She gave him a complicated look. “It might be possible... at least a few times.”
Daveth nodded. “Good; let’s find out.”
He turned to the scout. “Has the map been made yet?” He asked, and the man shrugged. “Need to ask Aldric.”
Daveth took a moment to think. “Nah. You take us there.”
The man gave a queasy sort of nod, as if he’d been given a particularly unpleasant dish to eat.
“Get the horses. Orelia’s gonna practice a little bit.” Daveth ordered.
He turned to the baby-faced blonde woman. “Take a rock, and try hitting the doorway on that building. Try for the left side, chest-high.”
He drilled her the same way that Audra had drilled him. She had the strength for it, but her aim was unpredictable. The Order of the Wolf was used to melee combat, human wave tactics. They didn’t have much skill in ranged weapons, even thrown spears.
He admired their focus, their dedication, and their unswervingly straightforward attitudes, but frankly, they needed to learn more diversified tactics.
“The golems are heavy; pay attention and see if you can pick them up moving around. Something that heavy’s gotta have a lot of weight in its step.” He called out, and gestured for the scout to lead on.
Audra had seemingly commandeered all the scouts into her own informal file. The girl had spunk, he was sure. For a self-professed mountain village bumpkin, she had a handle on effective scouting and tactics to be sure.
She’d said her father was an ex-soldier. Where’d he serve? The Anglish wouldn’t have taken him, and they controlled just about everything on Hesperia. The Merchant Cities, maybe? Nauders had no deep love for the elves, except for the winged ones up in the Eyrie, guarding the Spine against monsters and frost knights heading south, and power-crazed mages drawn north. Maybe he served abroad somewhere, and only retired in her village? Daveth had no idea, but he really wanted to know where her skills came from.
He dismounted, lost in his thoughts, moving to the wall of one of the smaller cubed buildings. Likely inside he’d find a dwelling place for one, with a bed, a fireplace, and a privy.
Without thinking about what he was doing or why, He leapt and grabbed the edge of the roof and hauled himself upwards, while the scout and Orelia stared at him, baffled as to why he’d do such a thing.
He strode across the roof quickly, muffling his footsteps as best as he could. There was a narrow alleyway between this building and the next; Daveth headed towards it as quickly and as q1uietly as he could, mind still contemplating the mysterious origin of Audra's skills.
He dropped down on the back of the golem from the roof, catching his hands on the collar of the breastplate. The golem staggered, one stubby arm waving, the other carrying a twin to the giant sword the other had carried. It reached back to dislodge him, but he twisted with each movement. He planted his heel on the back of its head and pushed with his foot and heaved with his hands; the metal monster’s armor groaned and warped under the strain.
He wondered what would give first; the thing’s head, its armor, or himself.
“Lord Commander!” Orelia’s voice cried out behind him, and the thing pivoted quickly, nearly tossing Daveth to the side as it lined up its shot. It fired, the first two shots going wide; the third shot caught Orelia straight in the chest, bowling her over and sending her body tumbling backwards.
Daveth yanked on the plate armor, and the groaning of the metal turned into a persistent shriek as it tore.
Inside the thing, pistons churned, cogs spun, thick tubes throbbed with the pressure of strange liquids flowing through them.
The thing pivoted again, and this time Daveth was unable to maintain his grip; he flew off with a startled yell and hit the building directly beside him; the one he’d dropped down from. As he sagged to the ground the thing tried to hit him with its sword, but in the narrow confines of the alley between the two buildings the blade clanged and clattered harmlessly and impotently against the walls of the buildings.
So, the things weren’t smart enough to understand that you didn’t bring a giant sword into a narrow alley. What sort of intelligence lurked inside that lozenge-shaped head? Daveth wondered, as he struggled to stay conscious.
An arrow clattered against it; the thing didn’t notice. A second arrow hit, and then a third, but still the thing tried to hack away at Daveth in the alley where it didn’t have the room to do so. The blade clanged and clattered against the stone of the building, scattering stone chips into his hair, scattering across his shoulders, sifting into his lap.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Daveth struggled to keep his eyes open, to move, to lift a finger, but everything hurt and it was difficult to breathe. Had he broken a rib? His arms felt stretched and rubbery.
He tried to move but discovered he couldn’t; his back flared in searing pain. He looked up at the head of the thing, which was bent and warped, staring down at him with an expressionless face, rectangular eye slits and a gash for a mouth that belched foul-smelling smoke. The head seemed to be warped, distorted. It glared at him with an insensate, implacable fury.
He tried to shake his head, the world swam in a smear of blurry pastels and he realized he was about to pass out again. He concentrated, focusing, but all he could see was the lidless eye of the cannon’s gunbarrel pointed directly at his face, as black as midnight in a mineshaft; the cold darkness of the Void of Oblivion staring him directly in his face.
*****
When Aurene had returned to Wolfshome Keep, she was all laughter and smiles, a complete roundabout from her earlier frosty, dignified attitude of honor and duty, the same attitude that had been beaten into all the other Wolfsblood from birth.
She’d regaled the Golds with her tales of her travels with the Seventh Seal and Daveth in particular. Even his casual, contemptuous disregard for the proper and dignified ways of valor brought smiles to her face. She told them of the times that they had sparred and he’d defeated her again and again with ease and indifference. She laughed when she told them she’d discovered that he’d been holding back the entire time, despite it being a slap in the face of everything the Wolfsblood stood for.
Pride, honor, valor. Strength.
Aurene spoke with pride about her commanding officer, but Orelia couldn’t stand it. She hated him on the spot. Every story drove the hatred home even more. Aurene was pure, dignified and honorable fury on the battlefield, and was only matched by Orelia and the Matron Herself. To see Aurene reduced in such a fashion was an affront of the highest order.
So when the Seventh Seal came to Wolfshome by way of the silver sisters, Orelia immediately agreed on the spot. She would defeat Aurene’s commanding officer. It would return Aurene’s honor and strengthen her own. She would defeat the monstrous brute that’d stripped away Aurene’s rightful place.
A formal challenge could only be demanded from one wolfsblood sister to another, and yet the first words out of her lips when she laid eyes on the behemoth were the ritual words of Challenge. The bastard had accepted, and a moment later her head was pounded into the deck over and over again until her cheekbone cracked and unconsciousness claimed her.
She threw herself at him again and again during the long trip by sea, and over and over again she was beaten down, pounded down, casually, easily, indifferently. He thought it was a game, she was sure of it.
She tried recruiting her Silver-blooded sisters into accompanying her on her path of honor, but Alysia flatly refused, Lynnabel pointedly refused to participate in the conversation, and Arcene replied with a need to do her best to acclimate to how the Seventh Seal performed their operations.
Orelia should have known better than to ask Silvers for help. They relied on strategy, on planning, delaying what should be a simple matter of combat and turning it into a parade of move and countermove.
Daveth was irreverent of duty, laughed at honor, spat in the face of her pride, and... his strength terrified her. He was a walking engine of destruction, and the only reason that she could discern why he didn’t simply tear everything in his path apart was that he simply chose not to.
She opened her eyes, feeling the pain of two broken ribs, gauntleted hand exploring the massive dent in her breastplate. She looked up from where she was sprawled and could see Daveth in the alley, facing down the golem. The back of the metal giant had been wrenched open, the metal itself giving way to that massive, unbridled strength. Things whirred, churned, and throbbed in that beast’s innards. She picked up her sword from the ground, feeling the sheeting agony of her broken ribs grating together. Her body was conditioned to fall into the deep coma-like sleep that would bring healing; she struggled against it, and took a wobbling step forward, and then another.
As she got closer, she could see him shoving the thing’s cannon arm away from his face with all his might. Desperation was etched across his face. That was an expression she hadn’t expected to see from him. He always carried himself with a sort of calm sense of amusement, as if he was privy to a secret joke that no one else knew.
Lynnabel had spoken of a time when he’d picked up a donkey and beat them into unconsciousness with it, and then hurled them several hundred feet away. Alysia told Orelia of the time that he’d picked up Alysia and used her to pound another foe into the dirt. Aurene had told her of a battle where Daveth had single-handedly slaughtered literally hundreds of foes.
Desperation and fear did not belong on a face so noble. She struggled forward, yelling at herself to move faster. Was she not the second-strongest in all of Wolfshome? Did she not carry the honor of the Order of the Wolf?
Daveth struggled against the cannon pointed right at his brow; a launch this close to his face would be instantly fatal. He had no strength left; desperation and adrenaline were all that kept him going, forcing his body to move, forcing his weight against the cannon.
The point of a sword split the golem’s chest; an amber-colored liquid coated the blade and tricked down the front of the armor plating. The blade was yanked out, and the strange chugging echoing from the thing’s chest hitched and died. The cannon went limp and slipped out of Daveth’s surprised grasp, to hang limply, pointing at the ground.
“Can you walk, Lord Commander?” Orelia peeked out from the other side of the golem.
Daveth shrugged. “I’ve no idea if I can even stand up.” He complained.
“Try. I can’t carry you.” She urged, and he looked up at her. “You’re looking pretty pale; are you all right?”
“I think I’ve got some broken ribs.” was her pained reply.
The trip back towards the forward operating base was done in complete silence, except for a single statement from the scout that’d come with Orelia and Daveth. “I think the scout corps needs something with a bit more punch than a horsebow, Commander.”
*****
“Lord Commander?” Alysia prodded the sleeping man.
“Don’t be stupid. Peace is just the prelude to the next conflict.” Daveth disputed, and then his eyes opened and he gazed up at Alysia, seeing her but not seeing her.
The wolf-blooded woman blinked at his statement. “Lord Commander?” She repeated, and his eyes focused on her.
“Alysia?” he hazarded, and rubbed his face with his hands.
“Sir.” she responded crisply.
“Shit.” He muttered, and then said something else in a language she didn’t recognize. “How are we situated? We ready to move out? Weapons prepped? Horses fed?”
She nodded.
“Fantastic news.” Daveth replied sarcastically, and sat up from his bedroll. Off to the side, Audra stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping irritably, expression sour.
As he pushed himself to his feet Aldric appeared, waving a scrap of paper. “We’ve had word from the Brotherhood; they’ve entrenched like we asked. Apparently they’ve seen some shit peeking out at them, but nothing that stays in the range of their guns.” He paused, and added, “Hopefully we can keep that hole plugged.”
Daveth nodded and limbered up, feeling his muscles complain with the strain. He was so sore he didn’t want to get out of bed for at least a week.
“So what’s the score?” Daveth asked. “We sweep and clear this place and then nip over to the Crucible, right?”
Aldric nodded. “We’ve just about mapped this place completely, with the exception of that ziggurat. We’ll clear that out today. Hopefully it’ll be useful shit like gold and ingots and weapons and not fucking mechanical beasties like those things out there.”
“Maybe they are weapons.” Daveth suggested thoughtfully.
Aldric looked like he was about to object, but changed his mind. “You’re probably right. I’ve been going over the maps the scouts put together. The golem things seem to move in a set patrol. That’ll be useful for avoiding ‘em.”
“Should we avoid them? I think Orelia and I stand a chance of taking them out. Even if we’re not there, we stand a chance of taking them down with traps.” Daveth offered.
“...traps?” Aldric muttered.
“They don’t seem too bright. I think we can rig some simple pit or tripwire traps in their patrol routes. That oughtta fuck them up.” Daveth suggested. “It beats ripping them apart with my bare hands.”
Aldric gave Daveth a sidelong glance. “Don’t tell me you did that. There’s gotta be a rule, a law, something that says you can’t possibly be that strong.”
“I’m not that strong.” Daveth affirmed. “Everything hurts right now because I thought I was.”
“Beats being dead.” Aldric replied, thumbing his pipe full of tobacco.
“You sure? Do you feel pain in death?” Daveth asked, kneading one of his shoulders with his off hand.
“I’m not willing to find out.” Aldric replied primly.
“Lord Captain.” Orelia piped up. “I have a question.”
“Fire away.” Aldric replied, pulling out a wooden box of lucifers as Daveth began tamping tobacco into his own pipe.
“What happened to the First through Sixth Seals?”
Daveth clapped his hand over his face and dragged it down, Aldric grinned nastily and chuckled. One of the great unsolved mysteries was the company’s name, and on that one, Aldric wasn’t budging. There were suspicions, of course. The rumor mill ground through all sorts of ideas, justifications, hazarded guesses, but nobody asked Aldric directly. Anyone who asked got tossed in the stocks for a week- or they could volunteer themselves for latrine duty for two weeks.
“Shit. I... just remembered I need to check on the disposition of my files. Audra, you’re with me.” Daveth muttered, and began striding towards the door quickly.
“I... think I will accompany you, Lord Commander.” Alysia volunteered, her voice shaky. Daveth gave her a baffled look. “What are you talking about, soldier? You’re part of Aldric’s files.”
Alysia gave him a hot look of anger. “I’m accompanying you on my way to speak with my sister.” She insisted.
“Okay.” Daveth agreed indifferently.
The building they were using for a forward operating base was both broad and long, and looked to be where the giant metal skeleton had actually been assembled. The place had been packed full of strange tools; all of which Aldric had squirreled away somewhere after finding the correct set of diagrams and tools necessary for the Wolf Sisters to get their new swords.
“Audra, I’d like you to drill Alysia, Lynnabel, and Arcene on the need to throw weapons with accuracy and power. Arrows bounce off these things, but a sufficiently strong weapon used with accuracy and power seems to be pretty effective.” She nodded at that; he kind of missed her ridiculous salute. “I’ll be tracking down Stronghammer and we’re going to go over some drills. Maybe the old tactic of using heavy maces against armor will help out.”