Without warning, the earth and stones behind him rocketed skyward. The force of the explosion threw him off his feet, but he never hit the ground. Danger set his instincts in motion instantly, and he turned the air to his benefit, soaring up and away to land atop a huge pile of rubble that had once been the dalheim’s barracks, fifty feet away.
Lauro could only watch from there, shocked, as a beast like he had never seen lifted itself up out of the hole it had blasted. It was the size of a giant, taller than many of the Greenwood’s trees, with short, powerful hind legs and long, agile front ones; an eyeless, noseless face, and a jagged maw. Worst of all… it seemed to be made entirely of metal, with plates and gears like the ones on the draiks he’d fought before… only this time, its whole body was a machine.
And it stood there, facing him from across the open space, doing nothing to attack. Why doesn’t it move? He wondered, and then it hit him. Because it’s not the one who’s going to-
“Goodbye,” hissed a gritty voice.
Lauro leaped up in a desperate gamble for safety. A fireball burned through the air where he had been a half-second before, singing his back as he twisted out of the way. Without thinking, he kicked out mid-flip at the shape he glimpsed behind him. As he landed, he was rewarded with a grunt and curse as the thing stumbled back, slipping and falling off the rubble, bleeding from its face.
Without waiting to see what the huge metal monster’s reaction was, Lauro pounced on his foe, pummeling him with fists and blows of wind. He didn’t blink to discover that he was fighting one of the black-hides like the one in the ruined stable; it made sense, after all. Another Pit Strider, trying to kill him like Gramling had, and like the fools in the golden warships had.
Just another enemy to slay. An enemy who could summon fire and burn the blood in his veins with a single thought. Very well. He could handle that. Lauro’s fists fell again and again. He would not give his enemy time for that thought. Fire bloomed, hurling him backwards. His face and body burned, but he pulled his motion into a tight flip, hurling lightning in mid-air.
Stone crunched underfoot as he landed. The Pit Strider was a smoking husk, sprawled at an unnatural angle, one hand still raised from throwing his fireball at Lauro. The prince smirked, snuffing out the flames that licked his clothing with a wave of his hand. Now his enemy was the one who burned.
But he gloated too long. By the time he heard the harsh whining of gears behind him and tried to dodge, it was too late. There was a shuddering BOOM, and the world spun around him blindingly fast, a whirlwind of pain and pressure and falling rock.
Then it was over, and he was laying on his side, arms pinned in awkward positions by the landslide of rock and earth that had been thrown up by the ambushing metal monster. Caught by surprise, twice in one fight, his fevered mind almost laughed at the notion. General Winter would not be happy.
He tried to move, but couldn’t. He felt sharp, deep pains in his ribs and arms; sprained or broken, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he could still escape if… but his legs would not move, and without legs or arms his powers were meaningless.
The golden monster stomped up to hover over him, eyeless face looking almost thoughtful. It looked like a golem from one of the nightmare stories he’d read out of books as a child… books his father had forbidden him to read. Well, I’m certainly paying for not listening, now.
With a grating and shrieking of metal on metal, the monster lowered its face until it was mere feet from Lauro’s. Gears turned and its maw opened wide, blasting the prince with intense heat. There was a glow inside, growing brighter every second: the angry glow of flames.
“No! NO!” Lauro squirmed, trying desperately to get an arm or leg free, no matter the cost to his health. Broken bones wouldn’t matter if he was dead!
Crack! A sound like a miniature thunderbolt rang out through the ruined dalheim. Someplace on the golem’s leg spurted a foul-smelling black liquid that nearly squirted Lauro in the face. The monster emitted a piercing half-wail, half-roar, and wheeled around to see what had dared attack it. Lauro could see a blurry image of his savior through the dusty haze, some sort of wood-and-metal device raised to his shoulder.
Mudlo. Creator bless the man… it was Mudlo, and he was holding what looked like a larger version of Byorne Hallifar’s fire-spitting contraption. As the trapped prince watched, the ranger lowered the weapon and began to fiddle with it, cursing, taking something from a pouch that’d been hidden under his cloak.
With a bellow, the golem spat fire into the air, pawing the ground in rage, and charged. Lauro felt like a fool: his mistake would likely cause both of them their lives now…
…unless he could get free. Turning back to the rock that pinned him, he concentrated on getting free. If he could defeat that, the rest would follow. So he closed his eyes, concentrating. The pain and exhaustion in his head throbbed every second like a heartbeat that would kill him. Without being able to move… no, he would be able to, and he would defeat-
Something changed. It was untouchable, possibly unknowable, but he realized in an instant that a barrier in his mind had broken down, or died, or disappeared. He was free, mentally if not physically.
So he pushed.
The rocks and debris blew away from him on all sides. The rock on his body flew high, bursting into a thousand fragments. A blessed sensation of wind rushed across him and through him, and his pain faded away. Lauro leaped to his feet, throwing his body upward as if it were the most natural thing to do after being nearly crushed to death. Somehow, he knew… this was even more important than learning the wind tunnel, or casting lightning. He had just Sky Strode with his mind!
Whirling, he prepared to Stride towards Mudlo and the golden golem… but it was too late. Faced with the monster’s charge, Mudlo threw his dangerous contraption to the side, desperately raising his bow and pulling an arrow from his quiver. He fired before the golem reached him, and to Lauro’s surprise the head punctured the thing’s face armor- but it did not even slow. That was when he saw the black-skinned creature strung up inside the body of the machine.
“Mudlo!” he called, leaping skyward, “It’s being controlled by someone inside it! You need to get away so I can…” But the grim-faced ranger leapt to the side, barely dodging the jet of flame the golem blew as it charged. Lauro couldn’t tell whether or not he’d heard, but it was obvious he couldn’t make it in time. “No!” he screamed, hurtling through the air, summoning a bolt of lightning. The golem lifted one limb, ready to pound Mudlo into the ground.
Suddenly there was a large dark shape rushing along the ruined wall, leaping, snarling, and throwing itself bodily onto the back of the golem. The larger monster was over-burdened by the smaller, and fell sideways to the ground, away from Mudlo. Lauro almost fell out of the sky in shock.
It was Steamclaw! The draik was less than a fifth the size of the unnatural machine-beast, but it made up for the disadvantage with a hellish ferocity and frequent blazes from its own jaws, blasting its foe again and again, leaping and snapping, trying to keep the thing on the ground. Mudlo was scrambling for his discarded fire-hurler, and Lauro changed direction to join him.
Whump. The prince came down in a gust of wind, landing sleekly and coming up to face the ranger. “Thank the Aura for you, Mudlo. I thought I’d snipped the thread that time, for sure.”
“No talk, just fight,” grunted the ranger, lifting his strange weapon again. Motioning Lauro aside, he pointed it at the battling titans before them, slipping something from a coat pocket into a slot near where he held the thing. It was a red-orange gem, run through with sulfurous tendrils of rock.
“What…?” Lauro asked, but before he could word the question the ranger had knelt and aimed his fire-hurler.
“Just… need… a better… view!” The draik and golem were at it head-to-head, and the larger monster was suddenly on top, blasting Steamclaw with fire and bludgeoning him to the side with both huge clawed fists. The next second it reared up, ready to finis
h the draik off…
-Crack!-
Mudlo had fired. An all-too-mortal howl broke from the golem’s body, and crimson splashed down one of the golden plates. Lauro was sure the sound had come from the thing inside, and not the machine itself. With metallic creaks and grindings, the golem toppled backwards and crashed to the ground in an explosion of rock and dust. It did not move again.
Mudlo turned to Lauro. “I heard what you yelled. All I’m wondering now is, ah… is it always like this around you?” The prince laughed, though his eyes strayed uneasily to where Steamclaw was picking itself up again, covered in burns and soot.
“You should meet Elia sometime, Mudlo. And Gribly. Then you’ll know what excitement is.”
He reached to his back for the weapons he’d never drawn, striding tensely towards Steamclaw. Mudlo trailed behind.
“Wait, Lauro! You didn’t answer my question!”
Chapter Seventeen: Desperate Chase
“IT HAS BEEN LONG, SON OF THE WINDS.” Steamclaw’s voice had the same strange metallic sound, the same raw finality, that Lauro remembered.
“Yes,” he agreed, walking up to face the enormous beast. “It has been.”
“DO YOU STILL REGRET MY COMPANY? YOU KNOW NOW THAT I HAVE KEPT YOU ALIVE THIS FAR.”
The prince’s face grew hard. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. “I do not deny it.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed… could it be? “Correct me if I am wrong,” he added, “But you’re only following me now because you thought Gribly would be the one on this quest.”
The red eyes of the draik blazed. “YOU ARE PLAYING WITH FATE, SMALL ONE. BE CAREFUL YOU DO NOT STRAY TOO FAR, OR YOU WILL SUFFER FOR IT.”
“Suffer?” Lauro laughed bitterly. “Fate has already made me suffer. It has taken my kingdom away from me, Draik! But I’ve defeated it, now. Everything the threads of the Aura have thrown at me, I’ve beaten!”
“ALMOST.”
That one word, coming from a throat not meant to speak language, froze Lauro in his tracks. All at once he became aware of Mudlo’s horrified silence behind him, and of the pride-drunk things he had just said. It was true, too, the blasted draik… he wasn’t done yet. There was still time to fail, as Wanderwillow’s book had shown him he would. But that vision… It hadn’t been like this. He had beaten fate… hadn’t he?
“I…” Lauro felt lost, all of a sudden. His control was fading too rapidly to save. Why did this… this beast unnerve him so?
“ADMIT IT, HUMAN. YOU OWE ME A DEBT. DO YOU SEE THIS CARNAGE? THERE IS WAR IN YOUR LITTLE LAND, AND YOU CANNOT STOP IT ALONE.”
“Aura’s Light, Lauro,” Mudlo whispered behind him, “He’s right. There’ve been rumors among the rangers for weeks now, but this confirms it. Vastion’s at war with the Golden Nation!”
Lauro spun. “The Golden Nation? What in the Blazes is that? What do you rangers keep from us?” He was shocked to realize that by us, he somehow meant himself and his father. The rulers of Vastion.
Mudlo grew defensive. “We aren’t beholden to your kingdom, Lauro. But I’d wager your… that King Larion’s been told. The rangers on the inside of Vastion have been trying to hold off this war for years.”
Lauro’s mouth felt dry and his limbs weak in a way that had nothing to do with his fight with the Pit Strider. His world was being twisted inside out what seemed like every day.
“DO YOU SEE, LAURO VALE? YOUR TEMPTING FATE HAS UNLEASHED APOCALYPSE… EARLY. YOU MUST MAKE HASTE IF YOU ARE TO REACH THE RED AURA IN TIME.”
“But the Giant’s Isle is still some days away,” Mudlo interjected.
Lauro snarled. “And if war had reached this far north, we may be… too late.”
Steamclaw roared, then, shaking the ruins with his fury. “FOOLS! I SERVE THE RED AURA NOW! HE IS MY MASTER, AND HE HAS SENT ME TO BRING YOU!”
“How?” Lauro snapped, a tremulous hope beginning to form in his chest. Steamclaw spoke but one word more.
“RIDE.”
~
Captain Bernarl kept many secrets. It was a tremendous weight off his shoulders to let one of the deepest go.
“What is this all-saving idea you have for catching up to a three-days-gone steamship?” King Gram had asked him, and Gribly had echoed the question. So Berne had showed them his Talent, and they had been as astonished as he had known they would be.
So now he stood in the front of the ship, wind whipping the misty tendrils of his Mist Nymph form, guiding the ship through the currents of the Great Channel with his mind.
Coldness on his left, heat on his right.
“Steer us North, Karmidigan!” The Sea Strider’s powers were growing almost hourly, as were those of his companion Reethe. They were chasing demons, but they were catching up.
Gribly’s voice came hesitantly from behind. “Are you sure this will work?” His tone was incredulous. Berne didn’t blame him… he had kept knowledge of his Second Form hidden so long, after all.
“It will work,” he said confidently, the smooth, airy effect of his Ghost Form blurring the words he spoke. And it would. It had to.
~
The draik slowed to a halt hours later, as night fell once more and the clouds covering most of Vast’s sky grew a darker shade of gray. Lauro and Mudlo tumbled off the beast to land heavily in the grass, sprawled out limply, gasping as if it had been they who had traversed so much of the Greyfeld. Steamclaw looked the worse for wear, too, Lauro had to admit; his red eyes were duller and his fur, where he had any, was matted with sweat.
“So… bloody… fast…” the prince moaned. “Felt like… flying…”
“…Could barely hold on…” Mudlo was whispering hoarsely.
“GET… GET UP, HUMANS! THE RACE IS NOT FINISHED! LOOK!” Steamclaw sounded as close to frantic as Lauro thought he’d ever get. Rolling over and prying himself up off the ground, Lauro looked where the draik was facing, gouging the ground with one patchwork metal paw.
“I don’t see…” he began. But then he did see it, and he swore so violently that Mudlo was up beside him in a second.
“What? Oh… oh, no…”
Fires burned in the distance, illuminating the night with bloody brilliance. So many fires…
“The war is coming,” Lauro said grimly, hand instinctively reaching for the halfswords on his back.
“No,” Mudlo almost whimpered, “It’s already here…”
“TURN AND SEE, HUMAN,” Steamclaw growled. Lauro turned in the opposite direction as the draik ambled slowly away, approaching something large and white that glowed orange in the fire-lit night. It was a bridge… a blasted big one.
“Wait…” Lauro felt as if he was missing something. Something that-
-pop! All of a sudden, it was as if all the sights and sounds of the world rushed in upon him. After the blistering speed and numbing pain of riding a draik down the Greyfeld, Lauro felt alive again; a life that burned and seared, but washed him in cold healing at its touch.
The wind was carrying him news again. The enormous, ivory-sheen bridge in front of him stretched off into the dark oblivion beyond his line of vision, but he knew from what he felt in the skies that it ran on across the water for miles more, until it reached the wind-swept slopes of the Giant’s Isle, a titanic mountain thrusting up out of the sea.
And the sea. He could hear it foaming and washing and spitting defiance at the wind, hundreds of feet below him. Here, past the line that split Vast North from South, the land rose ever higher above the water. They stood almost on the very edge of the longest, highest cliffs he had ever encountered, save past the Rain Caves in the lands where he had fought the pirates in a bygone life.
“This… this is it, then?” he said quietly, feeling small. He felt more than saw the landscape around him, and knew in his heart that the last stage of his quest was near.
“The Giant’s Bridge,” Mudlo said solemnly, joining him. “This is it, all right.”
“COME,” Steamclaw ordered, crouching wearily at the
beginning of the bridge now, some twenty paces ahead.
The dark shape of the draik against the far larger shape of the white bridge only made Lauro feel fainter, but he knew there was no turning back now. One foot in front of the other, he took step after step until he and Mudlo had joined the draik. One last look behind, where Vastion burned from a mysterious and deadly attack…
…and then Lauro Vale, Prince of Vastion, turned away. He strode into the darkness shrouding the Giant’s Isle, intent on nothing but the journey he was bound to finish.
Chapter Eighteen: Twists of Fate
Golden Tide (Song of the Aura, Book Four) Page 13
