82,200 words.
Table of Contents
Title Page
DogForge
CHAPTER ONE | Fury
CHAPTER TWO | Chase
CHAPTER THREE | Chalk
CHAPTER FOUR | Glow
CHAPTER FIVE | Snow
CHAPTER SIX | Green
CHAPTER SEVEN | Dreams
CHAPTER EIGHT | Charge
CHAPTER NINE | Trial
CHAPTER TEN | Pain
CHAPTER ELEVEN | Wait
CHAPTER TWELVE | Ball
CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Plate
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | Drop
CHAPTER FIFTEEN | Pulse
CHAPTER SIXTEEN | Lineage
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | Strike
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | Pinch
CHAPTER NINETEEN | Choices
CHAPTER TWENTY | Garbage
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | Decisions
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | Breach
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | Bridge
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | Life
DogForge
by Casey Calouette
For those who keep me going, Walt and Jen.
Copyright 2014 Casey Calouette
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Justin Adams
Edited by Max Booth III
You can find more at http://caseycalouette.com
CHAPTER ONE
Fury
The explosions in the sky warned them that this would be an amazing day.
The pack looked up into the night sky at the flashing lights. Booming echoed down into the dirty hovels. Pups whimpered in the dark.
Samus scanned piles of metal and saw his bounty for the year. He would offer two things to the machine gods. One was scrap, and the other was the young. Old enough to not be pups, but young enough to lack the bristle of an adult. The whining of his own pups reminded him of his duty.
He felt a ripple of excitement: more marauders. If they survive, he thought. If they survive. He looked up again and hoped whatever was happening in the skies wouldn’t create any issues. More marauders, then, he could strike.
Karoc howled a primal roar and darted across the camp. His hair prickled up, as if charged with static. “The men have come.”
“It’s just a storm,” Samus replied. He didn’t want to argue with the old shaman, not so close to the reckoning.
Karoc huffed and scratched at the dirt before laying down with his scarred muzzle on his paws. He breathed heavily, nervously.
A sound started out low, like a distant thunderclap, and rose in intensity. The clouds parted in the distance with wreathes of flame and electricity dancing through the lofty peaks. A noise hammered through the air, clacking against the hard sides of the ruins. A silence seemed to reign for just a moment, and then the violence came. A torrent of wind slammed out in gouts of mist and smoke. It tasted of ozone and char.
“Men!” Karoc howled again and jumped up.
Could it be? Could they really be alive? No, long and dead.
He pushed the thought away and focused on the now. He cocked his ears. The shaman ranted about men and howled into the sky.
Fools. Fools.
Samus ran away from the hovels and crested the ridge above the camp.
The sky boiled with light and flame. All was shrouded in mist, with just hints of the terrible fury inside.
Samus was sure it wasn’t a storm, but he had no idea what it was. He howled and dodged a flaming strut of metal. His eyes cast up into the dark clouds. He sniffed and took in the air: storms, rain, fire, dogs, a caribou, and a tang he’d never smelled before. He looked to his side and saw something amazing.
The bulk of the shape came in as a dart of light and splashed on the horizon in a million sparks. Dull glowing objects exploded away into the darkness of the forest. The pieces hung in the air before disappearing into the dark.
One piece sputtered white light and rose. Metallic edges glinted in the flames and it hovered, trying to gain altitude before heading directly towards Samus. His heart thudded and he turned to run, but stopped himself. No, he glanced down the hill at his pack, they’re watching.
It slammed into the bracken covered hill with cascades of debris, stone, and greenery rocketing into the sky. It lurched forward and plowed earth and rock before settling. Creaks and groans drifted through the air like ghosts of old.
Samus crouched down and felt hot embers burn into his skin. He barked down into the hollow of the valley and squinted into the distance. He sniffed once more and caught nothing of the hunters. They’d be in soon enough, he thought. His hackles rose and he scanned for the bluish lights that came when death did. “What are you?” he said to the wreck in the distance.
Grat pushed himself up the steep rise. He was panting by the time he plodded next to Samus. He didn’t look Samus in the eyes but instead gawked up at the sky. “What?” he growled in a low tone, voice crackling.
“There,” Samus said, and nudged his nose towards the wreck. His eyes snapped towards Grat. “Get the marauders.”
A boom sounded high in the sky and Grat jumped to the side. The flares glinted in his eyes and he smelled of fear.
“There?” Grat’s eyes, drooped and wide, focused on the mass of debris.
“Go!” Samus whipped his head towards Grat with canines bared.
Grat ran back down the hill as fast as the bulk of his body would allow.
Samus didn’t wait and bounded off the edge of the rise and into the fragrant leaves. He sniffed and scanned and watched for the blue lights that bore proof of the tenure of man, only the infernal devices remained. They always came when old-tech was dug up. Always.
A part of him wanted the bots to stay away so he could explore the crash. He was curious. Had they returned? But most of all, he saw the bounty in scrap, it would earn so much... he could almost taste the rewards.
Clouds wreathed the valley with the stink of burning plastic. A metallic tang hung in the air and it was like nothing Samus had ever known. He pushed past the gnarled roots of the hemlocks and felt safe in the purity of the darkness and the forest. Behind him, the low howls rose and his pack followed. He still didn’t wait. There was pride to be had in being first.
The thing was like a slab of stone, but smoother, polished and warped. Heat rolled off in waves like a stone in the sun. He stepped closer and sniffed. Hair singed and his nose crackled. He sneezed, sat back on his haunches, and waited. Maybe his pride was getting the best of him.
He sniffed the cooler night air and tried to decipher the smells rolling in the thermals. He knew not to trust his nose, but he could smell familiar things tinted with the unknown. There was a smell of spice, of machine oils, of cooked foods, and things he did not know. He smelled a smell he did know: dogs. That was enough to set his mind. He would be going in.
A great seam in metal popped and sang and opened wide. A hiss of smoke rolled out that smelled like burning pitch. He sneezed again and listened to the howls. He could tell his own pack but also something else. He shifted his rigid ears and listened closer and heard howls from inside. Howls of agony. Howls of sorrow. Howls of rage.
Grat came first into the clearing and skidded to a stop with his tail against his leg. Moments later his marauders came, three dozen, each broad in the shoulders and thick in the snout. Grat stood larger than the rest of the pack but seemed dulled compared to the crisp edge of the Samus.
They all waited behind Samus. The hull moaned like a falling tree and was silent.
Samus looked back to the pack. “Get the pups ready. We’re leaving as soon as we strip it.”
“Mine are too small to go—” Calus, a male with brindle shoulders snapped back.
“Then go back and help your mate,” Samus said without turning. The fear was so
thick on Calus he could almost taste it.
Samus stood and scratched his claws into the dirt. It kicked up a cloud that he could taste in his mouth. He sniffed once more and tasted the fear.
“We should go!” Karoc howled and nudged his nose towards the unknown thing. His face was a mass of scars and wrinkles. He wore a loop of green corroded wire around his neck. A single corroded block hung low and rested on his chest. “Men,” he said in a low growl.
“There are no men,” Samus replied.
The pack murmured and whimpered. Karoc stood taller and bared his teeth.
“Serve! Disturb not the men, respect—”
Samus spun. His hackles stood on edge like a mass of quills. He slammed into Karoc. The older dog rolled onto his side. He tried to kick his legs out but it wasn’t enough. Samus’s teeth, sharp daggers of steel and alloy, hung on the very edge of piercing skin.
“There are no men,” Samus said through clenched skin. He’d grown up listening to the tales under the broken moon, saw the bones, sniffed through the ruins. There was once men, that he knew, but no longer.
“Heresy!” Karoc wheezed. “It is our place to serve.”
“We serve nothing but our pack,” Samus growled.
Karoc thrashed and tested the grip. Samus bit down and savored the whimper from the shaman.
“What if there are men?” Karoc said as loud as he could manage.
Ears perked up and the pack shifted uneasily.
Samus knew he didn’t have much time, any of them could challenge him and the moment would be lost. “If we find men, then I leave.”
“Exile,” Karoc howled out.
The words caught Samus like a heavy whip and he released Karoc. “Exile,” he said in a low growl. He stood and showed his back to Karoc.
Lose everything, the sight, the thought, the voice, even the teeth. The thought of being an exile, a failure, sat heavy in his soul. Feral.
Murmurs and low growls whispered from the pack. Exile. Exile. A slur, a whisper, a curse. Samus heard it and knew it. There were no men. “Now is the time! We go!”
The pack skirted the edge of the mass. Thermals settled and the structure was merely hot, no longer sizzling. The dogs, large and dominating, were dwarfed by the structure beside them. Samus led with Grat just a step behind.
Samus, second in size only to Grat, looked back to his pack. A mass of scar tissue crested his shoulders like a jagged ridge. Grat was a head taller than Samus but had a gentle plodding, his ears seemed to droop with every step. Only his size kept the rest at bay.
They moved not with a measured presence but with cautious steps of the hunter, and of the hunted.
Grat sniffed and snorted. His eyes wrinkled tight. “I don’t think—”
“—No, you don’t,” Samus snapped back and stepped closer to the rift in the hull. “Afraid?”
“No.” Grat lowered his head.
Another dog bounded out of the woods and stopped next to Grat. Teats, swollen like pears, hung down through her black coal colored coat. She looked up and raised her nose at Samus. “What are you doing? This is foolish!”
“This isn’t your place, Barley,” Samus said slowly, with a hint of contempt in his voice.
“I’ll decide my place. I’ve no pups.” Barley glanced to Grat.
Grat stood silent as if he didn’t hear.
“We’re going inside.” Samus said to the pack. “The rest of you keep them out when they come.”
Eyes glanced from side to side. A whimper sounded from one. “They’ll come, they always come when we dig.”
“Munin,” Samus called out. A sallow faced dog stepped out from the pack and sat on massive haunches. He flexed and lines grew along muscles and tendons like silver rivers diving through the fur. “Lead them until we’re out.”
Munin clacked his teeth and sent the rest of the pack out.
“I’m coming, too,” Barley said and walked past Grat.
“No,” Grat said, before Samus could speak.
Barley’s eyes burned with a fire as fierce as the ones raging on the horizon. She turned closer to Grat and rested her head against his chest. “I can’t lose anything else,” she whispered.
Grat wrinkled his brow and rested his head on hers.
“Enough!” Samus called and bounded two leaps to the edge of the object. “Come now or send a pup in your stead.”
Grat moved with slows plodding steps and stood next to Samus. Barley came close behind.
“Stay behind me,” Samus said softly. He turned his head and blocked the light from the fires. He could see something inside, a light, a light that was pure like a star. He saw that it wasn’t that deep blue of death and stepped past the jagged edge.
* * *
The floor felt odd on his paws and he picked up his foot. He set it down once again and watched as Barley leapt back. He’d never felt anything so smooth, his claws clacked with every step. Behind him Grat growled and plodded on, his massive paws nearly silent.
Inside it smelled richer, deeper, with the burn smells more intense like incense in a closed room. Wires hung like iron snakes drooping down to the floor. The tunnel lead deeper inside with only a thin band of light pulsing from ahead.
It was enough to show that this was unlike anything Samus had ever seen. He had crawled through the ruins as a pup and snuck out bones to gnaw on and cans to chew into. His metal teeth tingled at the thought and he was tempted to try them once again on the metal around him, but decided not to, not now.
The three moved slowly and tucked close to the outer wall. The floor was at a slight tilt, a mass of wires blocked the entrance. A howl came from deeper inside, a mournful sound with cries of anguish.
Barley whimpered and stepped back. Grat stood next to Samus and nudged at the mass of wires.
Samus felt the fear coming on, that deep seated animal adrenaline moment telling him to go. Run. Flee. Gnash your teeth, snarl and get out! But instead he pushed it back and forced himself through the wires and into the space beyond. The wires were tight on his fur and he felt pinpricks and scrapes on his hardened hide. He opened his eyes on the other side and yelped.
A cavernous space opened with crinkled and crumpled steel hanging at odd angles like sheets of broken ice. Starlight streamed through holes in the ceilings and smoke rose in slices of gray. Lights danced on wide white fixtures but it was like they just couldn’t quite catch. The floor was a mass of corpses. Dogs.
They were all shapes and sizes. Small dogs, large dogs, lanky things, dogs in sleek suits of armor with heavy legs, and dogs in armor bulky and strong. Not a single one moved.
Samus smelled death. His eyes took in the sight and his brain balked at thought of going towards it.
Grat huffed next to him and looked down his wide snout. “Dead,” he said, as if to remind himself.
Barley pushed through and whimpered. Her legs shook.
“Get anything you can,” Samus said quickly. “This will be tribute for years.” He saw things they could use, the armor looked perfect but he had no idea how to get it off. His eyes locked on a lance and he set off towards it. He tried to pull it away, but it seemed fused to the armor.
Creeping metal and thermal expansion echoed through the hold. It was like the moaning of the dead, but it was just steel losing its temper. A single bark sounded from the darkness deeper into the hold. It ended with whimpers and cries.
He needed to keep the fear away, he could taste it in his mouth, thick and rich. Just like in the ruins. They would dig out things, metal things, things they didn’t know, but things that kept them in favor. They would dig until the bots came. Then, they would run.
Scraps for the machine gods. Blood for the blood god.
Grat walked with stiff legs on the corpses and tossed back machinery and scraps. Barley piled it on the edge of the room. She looked at the floor and she avoided the piles of corpses. Samus stalked the edge and whipped back what seemed useful or interesting. He didn’t know what it was, but he kn
ew what the machine gods liked.
There was a familiar click and all three froze. Samus turned his head and saw it.
The skelebot’s body was steel with a prominent rib cage that sang with chrome. A dim blue light echoed from beneath, a mechanical light, a harsh light, a light like a dying star. Its pelvis was narrow with legs that pivoted and hung with the tension of a kangaroo. But the face was ghastly. Wide, like an inverted banana, kaleidoscope eyes and a pincer-beak for a mouth. A flicker of light danced on the edges of its body like raindrops on a window. It had no hands, simply metal claws that clasped a jagged axe. It tilted its head, focused, and leapt forward.
Samus knew what it was. As a pup, he ran. As an adult, he could take down a wounded or wrecked one. They found them stuck in the ruins and gnawed on them with metal teeth. But mostly they ran from the dirty blue lights and the death that came with it.
But this, he knew, was different. It wasn’t as old as the ages, it was new. He didn’t have to relay orders to Grat or Barley. They knew, they’d done this before. Except never inside an unknown space against a fresh skelebot. Samus’s heart pounded harder. Now the fear seeped in.
He powered towards the skelebot and juked to the side. His claws screeched on the chest armor of a fallen dog. Turn! He pushed behind it. The air swooshed and hissed. He felt a slice on his rear hind quarter and a searing burn on his tail.
The skelebot slammed the axe down on the floor with a crash like an explosion. A spray of hair and a slice of blood spurted out from Samus. It spun and sprang out like a coiled spring. It threw a stiff arm behind and slammed Barley aside. She yelped, rolled, and tumbled over the corpses. She stood with a snarl.
Samus rebounded off a sheet of steel and felt a tearing snap. The bot gripped his tail tight. He yelped and fire burned through his spine before he was free. The adrenaline was now something more, he could feel it focus, tighten every joint, and push him faster. A stub of tail dropped from the skelebots grasp and tumbled to the floor.
He ran. With every leap he could hear it behind him. Close. So close. The claws clacked and the axe sang through the smoky air. He needed to hide, do like a pup, and get somewhere small.
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