“You knew what I meant.”
“How about ‘Let’s make ‘em pay a terrible price for every inch?’ or something?”
“Dat’s what she said,” Bingo called, howling with glee.
Achievement Unlocked:
Inside Joke
Way to be inclusive, guys!
Reward: Pending
“Pending?” I yelled, smacking the side of the cockpit. “Source, what the hell does that mean?”
Helpful as always, the AI’s voice filled my ears. “Webster’s dictionary defines the word ‘Pending’ as follows:”
“Shut up.”
“Fine. The remaining elven archers are repositioning, though.”
For a race that lived as long as they did, the elves were impatient. I couldn’t see much from where I’d positioned us behind the edge of the door, but they looked like they were already zigzagging down the hillside.
Patch was talking, but it wasn’t to us. “She’s jawin’ at da repair teams,” Bingo told me. “Sounds like dey’re dumb enough to be beggin’ ta fix us up.”
“Source, how long until the elves close enough to use those arrows again?”
“Two minutes, if they are unimpeded.”
“Are you planning on impeding them?”
“Of course.”
“Cool.” I looked over to Patch. “Tell the Dregs that they’ve got permission to refit us, but that they have to make it fast and then be scarce. The hangar’s going to be our last stand.”
Patch giggled. “They weren’t asking permission.”
I looked down at the ground and saw that we were already surrounded by Dregs. Illgott was banging something into place, and when his big head was even with me I popped the cockpit.
“Still haven’t fired the Head Canon yet, huh?”
“Nope. I tried on the giant, but I lost my chance. Who knows, I might just end up drinking the Pepsi myself.”
He snorted. “Still cracking wise after all of that? If you had to be on anyone’s side, I’m glad it’s ours.”
“Thanks, man. Now stow the Hallmark card and tell me how bad off the Mech looks.”
He leaned over, running his gaze over the vehicle. “It’s a rental, right?”
“Worse than I thought, then. Is Esper okay?”
“I think so. The magic knocked her out, and I don’t think she’ll wake up for a while.”
“Keep her safe.”
Source’s base mounted turrets chattered into life, and I waved goodbye to Illgott. “Thanks for the help,” I told him.
“I’ll clear the hangar of civilians.”
“You read my mind.” I lowered the cockpit and wound what was left of the harness around me.
“Patch?”
“36%”
“Bingo?”
“I can Redline us when you need some speed, and we’ve got… Hang on…” Even though his compartment was incredibly cramped, he still found a way to flip the cover off a funnel, stand on his seat and enact a lengthy, loud Piss Up into our dry reserves. “We’ve got 22% of jump jet fuel.”
“Gross!” called Patch.
A shower of arrows clattered off the doors, sending one of the turrets crashing to the ground and knocking another one sideways.
“The Dregs are safe,” Source said. “For now.”
I sighed, pushing down on the pedals and storming around the corner at the elves. “You’ve always got to add the last part, don’t you?”
I threw a few hundred rounds at the archers, peppering the hill behind them along the way.
Mech Weapon (Direct Fire) [Indiscriminate]
Roll: 10
Effectiveness: 50%
They were nimble, but I slowed their advance and chunky salsa-ed half of the ones that were left.
The Goblin wasn’t as accurate as it’d been before, and it didn’t fire as fast. It took me the rest of the drum to tag the bastards who’d taken cover, but I managed to do it right before calling for a reload.
“ONWARD!” screamed the sky in Sanguine’s voice. “CHARGE THEM!”
“Subtle,” said Patch.
I braced for a final all-out blitzkrieg, but everywhere I looked on the non-flaming hillsides I saw crowds of Heroes who were too tired, scared or smart to obey her command.
“They’re done,” I told them. “Their hearts aren’t in it anymore.”
“ATTACK!” This time the mandate was accompanied by a wave of magic that swept over the back of the hills and then down the front of them, snapping at the heels of the Heroes too slow to comply.
They died horribly, and their screams put spurs to the rest.
“What da *shhht*uck?”
I perched the Mech on top of the nearest pile of Hero corpses, so that line of sight wasn’t an issue. “Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to scorch the sky. Bitches.”
Venomous Goblin. Rockets. Caustic Sight. Flame Spewer. No matter what I did I couldn’t kill them all, and they were more afraid of the wizardry eating them from behind then the bipedal death-dealer spitting face-melting firepower at them from the front.
I struck them down, and more kept coming. I found myself leaning hard over the joysticks, my face lit by muzzle flashes as waves of protagonists threw their lives away.
The last of Source’s turrets exploded.
There was nowhere to run. I had no choice but to hold the triggers down, spraying the world before me with hot lead, anger, and my own version of justice, even though it looked a lot like mere blood and retribution.
And then we were amongst them.
Sparks and smoke and fire and flame were everywhere, and we were constantly taking hits. It was inevitable. Source couldn’t help much, not with so many targets shooting at us, and my old ‘Space Paranoids’ instincts were all that kept us from being splattered across the Mech bay by slung spellbolts or panzer killers.
“24%”
Some enterprising soul got in behind us and tagged me with a rocket-propelled grenade that spilled the same purple magic as the Smash.
“20%”
We rocked forward, but I caught us before we fell and Voidsaw-ed a quick, crimson circle around us.
Mech Weapon (Melee)
Roll: 5
Effectiveness: 25%
Once we were stable, I let our afterburners spit hot agony behind us for a split-second, barbecuing whoever’d managed to get that shot off before they could fire again.
Every hard hit was making me see stars now, and I moaned, “You guys okay?”. Either I was still bleeding or I was bleeding again. Whichever it was, it was happening.
“Peachy,” Patch said. She was understandably distracted, desperately attempting to push healing hydraulics through our shattered subsystems.
I knew that the infusions she’d done to keep us alive thus far had been nothing short of miraculous, but unless there had a lot more rabbits to pull out of a bunch more hats, the end was well and truly nigh.
I couldn’t take a step without slipping on gore and crunching on corpses, and more than once I had to fire a burst from the jets just to stop us from tumbling over.
There were still hundreds of them pouring through the doors, rabid berserkers with renewed passion and no thought of self-preservation. The stiff staccato of grenades and spellfire was a constant background noise.
I used one hand to slam us hard to the left and then to the right, faking out a techmage missile as big as our cockpit, and cued up some Judas Priest with the other. This close to the base our Wi-Fi was strong, and I cranked ‘One Shot At Glory’ until the music’s fury rattled our innards.
“This one’s a real banger,” Bingo said, grinning like a maniac.
Prophetically, Halford’s screams fought with the rest of the band as the music thrummed through me. I blocked a Knight’s swing and
Mech Weapon (Melee)
Roll: 9
Effectiveness: 45%
gutted him and some of the guys beside him, spewing flame
Mech Weapon (Hazardous Emissio
n)
Roll: 12
Effectiveness: 60%
in a wave of suffering that pushed into the ranks behind them.
“Armor’s at 15%”
How many more Heroes could there possibly be? How long can we withstand this?
Patch was out of her seat now, leaning dangerously into the Mech’s guts and making repairs on the bare components in front of her.
With every blow we took, all of us were showered in sparks, and for a moment I thought I really was dreaming. Was I asleep beneath the badly wired neon sign, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd as Heroes bitch and moan about the charmed life they led?
“No,” I said. I wasn’t going to let them take this chance from us. I didn’t care how many of them there were, how much firepower they threw at me, how much vim and vigor they used to try and put me back in my place.
“No!”
I was never going back, and if all our little rebellion had done was show the Powers That Be that there was still fight in Darkwell, then so be it.
Dodging didn’t exist anymore, not for us. We were going to get hit by the lances and spears and glowing maces, it was just a matter of trying to get them to strike us in less-important areas.
I stomped on the accelerators and we crunched our way forward, flattening wounded Heroes underfoot, kicking or cutting or roasting or smacking anyone in our path.
We were still surrounded, but the flow of fresh Heroes was slowing. I pushed to the threshold and, once I was sure I had their attention, ripped 900 rounds into the fuckers who still had the balls to attack me.
Mech Weapon (Direct Fire) [Indiscriminate]
Roll: 19
Effectiveness: 95%
Even when they were dead, I pounded bullets into their corpses, shoving them across the ground and smearing the hangar with what remained.
Let the rest of them gaze in horror at the fate that awaited them. We weren’t broken, and as the spent Goblin whirred and coughed on empty chambers I stood in the sunlight and raised my gun to the sky.
Not that they’d be able to see me. The magic that had pushed her forces forward was dying off, and purple flames ran through the grass like lilacs. The smoke was so thick that I couldn’t even make out any of the hills.
“We’re done,” I said. “But don’t tell them that…”
I had no rockets left, and no bullets. The Flame Spewer was done unless I dipped into the jump jet fuel, and even though I hadn’t used the Banshee’s secondary effects I didn’t think they’d be enough to turn the tide away from the inevitable.
My ears must have still been ringing, because I was pretty sure that I heard cheering. It was getting louder, too. Even though my peripheral vision was questionable because of the shot I’d taken to the head, I trusted it enough to turn and look when I saw the Dregs lined up at the rear of the hangar.
“Source?”
“Estimated Heroes remaining: less than a hundred.”
“Really?”
“Sanguine’s magic drove them forward, but it left no ability to retreat. They fought and died, or they ran and died.”
“Really?” I asked again, stunned.
“I make no promises Mister Raze, but there appear to be no more Heroes left to die. Her Mages still exist, though they are obscured by the hills from my radar. I can only make out blood and bodies on the field. That, and the new river of magma.”
“Is it over, Raze?” Patch asked.
I shrugged and hooked a thumb at the Dregs, who were still dancing around in glee in the back of the hangar. “They sure seem to think so, and Source agrees. Sanguine’s not dead yet though, and you can bet your sweet ass th-”
I hadn’t touched the controls, but we backed up.
“Shit…” I breathed, sitting up in my seat. “Who bumped something?”
Patch responded first. “Not me!”
“Ain’t us,” said Bingo. “It’s da bodies dat are movin’.”
He was right. The landscape was sliding away from me. At least, the corpses were, and since they covered everything it looked like every surface was shifting, pulling back to the hills and then beyond.
I couldn’t work out why though, so I yanked the goggles up to get a better look. When that didn’t work, I unlocked the canopy and shoved it open so that I could get a better view.
I should probably have been worried about a stray arrow or sword thrust, but if there were Heroes still lurking I figured my death would be Source’s fault for not telling me.
Every body was slipping toward Hallow. They were all moving at the same speed, and the ones that were draped on Mother or hanging from a broken piece of her armor eventually slid off, fell to the hangar and then joined in with the rest.
They were like a sea when the tide goes out.
The corpses were starting to pile up behind us, threatening to trip us or take us with them. I backed us off on to more reliable ground in the Mech bay so that we could work out what was going on.
“Everybody else is seeing this, right?” Source asked. That was a worry, when the know-it-all AI was using my eyes and not his own sensors to verify the truth.
“We see it.” I glanced at the others, “We do see it, right guys?”
“Oh yeah,” Patch whispered. “Whatever this is, it’s happening.”
Realization went through me like electric current.
“Restock!” I ordered, opening up the external comms. “They’re taking our supplies! Grab what you can and salvage it fast.” I turned them off and swapped to the internal line. “Everybody out. Patch, fix the important stuff. Bingo, you too. I’ve got a bunch of things to rewire up here, and I want to make sure that any nonessential personnel have a place to hide.”
I climbed out, and so did the others. Some of the Dregs were still happily celebrating, but the rest were looking past us at the crawling, tumbling, rolling bodies as they headed away from us in a straight line.
I perched on the shoulder beside the Head Canon. The arrows had done a lot more damage than I’d thought. The weapon itself seemed to have stood up to the onslaught, but the parcel of wiring that tied it in to the power supply was frazzled and melted.
If I didn’t fix it now, it sure as shit wouldn’t fire later.
When the Dregs got quiet, I used the speakers to speak to them again. “So far, so good, so what, am I right?”
There were nods of agreement, but most of them had their eyes fixed on the bodies that continued to get suck away toward the mages and Sanguine, beyond the hills.
“This isn’t over,” I said, suddenly surprised that it was me addressing the throng and not Patch. I was even more shocked that they appeared to be listening. “I need everybody to get back inside. Close every door between the Heroes and yourself. Patch has opened a lot of the lower levels, so that might be a good place to hide.”
Nobody moved. Not even the ones I’d labeled as cowards, years ago. “Not going to happen,” Illgott told me.
Fair enough. There wasn’t a hole deep enough to hide from the Heroes, if they did win and then turned their sights on the mountain. “Okay, then. If you’re willing to help us, we’ll accept it.”
I didn’t need to ask twice. Even asking once had probably been overkill. They were beaten down, but not defeated. I might’ve lived in the shadows off the crumbs of the Heroes that surrounded us, but Mother Mayeye’s iron will lay within each of them.
We were worth more than we’d been given, and just because we had to wait to take our turn at the top again didn’t mean that we didn’t deserve it when it came around.
But Mother wasn’t here, despite how much I needed her to be. All I wanted was to sit on her knee the way I’d used to. I’d given up a lot of the chances I’d had by being arrogant, overconfident and naïve in my belief that the sooner I gave up hope, the better off I’d be.
I wired and clipped and soldered faster than I ever had before.
When a stray tear rolled down my cheek, I wiped it absently away with my knuckles, blaming it on the
smoke and not the truth.
“Raze?” It was Bingo. He was hanging from the handholds halfway up the Mech, his mask turned down low.
“I think it rained on my face, or something.”
“Huh?” He peered at me. “Oh. Dat. Right. Well, we’re done.”
“Already?” I looked up. The smoke was clearing out there, and the bodies were almost all the way over the hills. The basin was drenched in blood.
He shrugged. “Dey took mosta da loot wit’ ‘em, so der’s Bingo to scrap. We been salvagin’ ‘eirlooms and inheritances for da past couple a minutes, but now dat’s all used up.”
“Shit.”
“We should get movin’. Whatever’s on da way, we don’t wanna bring it in here.”
“You’re right.” I got up and felt something poke me in the butt. I looked over my shoulder, sure that I’d find Patch there trying to buoy my spirits.
She wasn’t, and when I slapped my back pocket I remembered that I still had my part of Mother’s last message. “Load up,” I told him, taking it from its place as I dropped into my seat and strapped in as best I could.
I tore the envelope open, carefully unfolding the note within. It was an old drawing I’d made for her way back when. The paper was cheap, and it’d gone yellow and brittle with age.
I could remember the day that five-year-old me had colored it for her. So much of the gap between then and now was meaningless and forgotten, but for some reason I could close my eyes and see the shade of the sky and taste the fish-gravied stew we’d had for lunch and hear the song she was humming as I approached her in the kitchen.
I’d done my best to draw the two of us. A stick figure Mother was holding my hand and we were standing in ‘Neath with a swirling Rift above.
For some reason, I was pointing at the mountain, and I’d drawn a crown on my head.
Hallow lay behind us, and there were no streetlights. No Vigilance Committee. No Significant Fraternity, and no gallows, no dungeon, no wanted posters. All of those things were way older than I was, but my childhood imagination had erased them with ease.
Mother had written across the sky in a flowing script. It’s time to be the Mountain King, Raze.
Know Your Roll Page 37
