by Travis Perry
Stopping instantaneously, the way a charging horse cannot, clearly having seen me, the metal thing cuts inward and upward away from my attack, back towards the camp, dodging me. I wheel Gallant around over treacherous white ground, his footing surer than I have any right for it to be.
Riders pour down the mountain slope and those behind close in. There is a route for escape, straight down the mountain, straight east. Black legs move in a flurry that direction as the black whatever-it-is scrambles that way. But whatever purpose it had been built for, speed did not seem the primary one. Black legs with a metallic ring churn through ice and snow, seeking escape. But the riders of Ascraeus attack before it can.
Carson, the place his nose had been now covered with cloth, is the first to strike a blow as his mount gallops the fastest at the machine. He aims low, for the legs on his side. One of them breaks as Sir Carson’s sword likewise shatters, a sound not unlike the breaking of ice. The thing stumbles. Two other riders from uphill thunder by, slashing. The black shape falls.
I’m on fast approach. I veer Gallant off from other riders charging in and I jump off while still at a full gallop, hitting the ground in a hard roll, the way the Brotherhood of the Shield taught me in riding school.
I’m now on my feet as several riders thunder towards at what I realize is a machine. It cuts back my way to avoid them. Its legs are longer than mine so its roundish body is just below my eye level, like a tall spider. One covered in lenses, one of which seems fixed on me.
I slash, and my tough bronze blade separates a leg joint of the device without shattering. The machine scrambles away from me, downhill again, apparently first seeing me as less of a threat than the mounted warrior, now seeing me differently. I slash and destroy rear leg. It falls but quickly scrambles up again.
The thing scrambles uphill again on four remaining legs, but now it’s far too late for it. It’s very much a machine—I see it is, I hear metal swords impacting its metallic body. Yet the lunges it makes towards safety, its scrambling mangled legs, its obvious goal of preserving itself, makes it seem somehow alive and terrified. I feel pity for it. I feel pity even as I run forward, even as I catch up, and even as I join five or six other riders in hacking it until it moves no more.
Warmth from the morning sun touches my face as I face eastward, panting steam from the morning battle. Less than an hour later, after I have recovered Gallant, Madam Susan examines the wreckage. Many riders at first began to gather around her in a circle, but Sir Isaac shouted at them, “Set an outer perimeter in your assigned squads! There may be more of them!”
As I had no assigned squad, I lingered near the machine, feeling some guilt at not doing my part. But curious enough to want to stay and see. Sir Isaac gives me an icy glare, but says nothing to me.
My lord Pederson is on hand, as are Sir Isaac and Sir Michael (and me) as Susan looks over the machine. Sanchez stands nearby as do several hands he assigned to assist her as she removes the mangled top with the aid of a strange set of devices she calls “screwdrivers.”
“Roger, as I told you, this is a surveillance robot of some kind. Clearly the property of the Olympians.”
A robot. Such creatures of the past were legendary terrors. Though of course I already knew that’s what it was. But the confirmation chilled me nonetheless.
“Has it given away our position? Is there any way to know if it has?” My lord asked this with the most anxiety I’ve ever seen on his face—which in truth was still not much.
“Let me see what I can find.” Over the next two hours she systematically disassembles the machine—as much as the collapsed sides and interior gashed open with sword blows allows her to do.
“My lord,” she finally says. “I think I was wrong.”
“How so?”
“See these devices at the bottom of the machine body? These are drills and chambers for taking geological samples. This robot was not built for surveillance. Not mainly. Its design shows it was intended to be a scientific tool. Though it seems clear the Olympians were using it for surveillance.”
Govnor Pederson ponders this, his eyes turning upward. After several seconds he asks, “What does that mean, practically speaking?”
“Well, it means it wasn’t designed to trigger any kind of systematic alarm. That to warn the Olympians it would have to send a message. It’s equipped with two forms of communication, a connection to orbiters of Mars, ‘satellite uplink’ they called it. And I don’t believe the satellites have worked in a long time, not that I know of anyway. The second form of communication is a type of invisible communication the ancients called ‘radio.’ This kind it has requires line of sight to work, based on the frequencies it carries. In other words, the machine would have to walk back to where it would be lined up with an antenna—a receiver of its message—before it could send it.”
My lord rubs his chin. “How far away might an...antenna...be?”
“I have no way to know for certain, my lord. But I would think any receiver would be either in the caldera or at the south entrance to the mountain. Either of those locations would be out of line of sight from here due to the curvature of mountain.”
Govnor Pederson considers this for a few seconds. “So you do not believe this ‘robot’ has signaled our presence.”
“No, Roger, I do not.”
“Are you certain of that?”
Susan smiles. “No, my lord, I am not.”
“Well,” he smiles in return, “We shall find out, I suppose. All we can do is press on. If the seven hundred Olympians show up, we’ll deal with that problem when it comes.” He turns his head to the right, “Sanchez, strike the camp.”
So we continue on our way. After a week more of travel southwest, the ice is so thick and ragged that we must dismount. Gallant struggles with his footing, even without me on him. Even in the brightest and warmest part of the day, it’s quite cold. Riders are supplied with cold gear, not the suit I saw in Lady Susan’s tent in what seemed to have been another world of warmth down below, but the normal mountain gear Ascraeans regularly wear. The air is so thin now, it is as if we were in the caldera of Ascreaus. But Olympus is taller yet. We have yet higher to climb.
It occurs to me the horses cannot possibly go with us all the way. The route is too treacherous. Sooner or later, a horse will fall. Yet we have many kims to go, how many exactly is unknown to everyone because our exact position is uncertain, even though Susan doing her best to trace our progress on the map.
I wonder how I will tell this problem of the horses to my Lord Pederson. Perhaps I should not tell him at all. Surely he must know. And would not Sir Isaac and others be angry at me for speaking above my rank? I consider the matter while I walk along a flat area between two higher ridges on either side of me, an ice shelf. But I didn’t know it was there.
It collapses under the horse in front of me, Sir Josiah’s horse. The horse slips immediately down into a ravine, screaming a horse scream. Josiah, who had been walking to the right of his horse, leaps sidewise, grabbing at the edge of the ice of the rise next to him, struggling to hang on, slipping down but trying to dig in. He cries out, “Help me!”
I want to help my friend but a crack has formed in the ice under my feet and its widening races back toward Gallant and me. I pull the reins hard to the left as I jump up on a bent bundle of ice, the size of a large round hay bale. I pull Gallant’s reins as I climb the chunk of solid-frozen and slick water, sharp with icicles. I shout, “Jump! Jump, Gallant!” Dear God, let him jump!
Gallant bravely scrambles upward, never afraid of heights. But his hooves slip on ice and ice opens up underneath him. He plummets downward as the ice shelf collapses. For a brief moment I retain grip on the reigns. But soon, by the inexplicable mercies of God, they are yanked from my hands, taking my gloves but not my whole body with them. And my horse, Gallant, always afraid of water but not heights, is killed by a conspiracy between the two of them, initiated by the frozen version of his nemesis, as his body is b
roken forty meters below me by the heights. He lies at the real bottom of the ravine we unknowingly had wandered onto. At the same moment I absorb this reality, Sir Josiah slips down too, his last shouted words, “Dear God!” The forty meters kill him, too.
I stand in shock, my heart beating hard. Feeling shame in fact that at this moment I do not know which death bothers me more.
Soon I hear Sanchez’s voice shouting behind me, “Make campment here!” Some part of me wonders where they can on this slope, but the rest of me does not care. I stand in the same place for I don’t know how long, on the same ice knoll over the ravine, looking down, ice building up in the snow mask material below my eyes. I’m only vaguely aware that my hands have turned numb.
Eventually a hand touches my left shoulder and a voice speaks, “Evan.” I turn and the Govnor of Ascraeus is behind me. “Come. My tent is ready. Come speak with Madam Susan.”
I turn numbly and follow my lord. My feet squeak in the icy snow and it occurs to me my face is coated with ice.
My lord ushers me into the tent but does not join me there. The table and a chair is set up on the inside but nothing else. The air is still cold in the tent; my breath forms a floating white cloud in front of my face. The ancient magic lamp casts white light from the table. Nothing else is in the room. I stand here and I breathe.
Behind me I hear motion. I do not turn. Hands of women pull my arms and Susan’s voice says from my right side, “Come sit down, Evan.” I let myself be directed to the chair. I see on the other side of Susan is Rebecca. She carries a pail of water with steam rising from it. With a cloth dipped in the water she begins to thaw the ice on my snow mask below my eyes. Susan rubs my hands. “You are so cold,” she says. Her dog is nowhere in sight.
“My husband was a rider,” Rebecca adds, her eyes wide with concern. “Who fell to his death on the west flank of Ascraeus in a skirmish with a bandit. I’ve lived five cycles without him now.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I only lost a friend. And a horse.”
Susan says, “No rider takes losing a horse easily, Evan.”
“I’ve lost one before. His name was Megiddo.”
“That was in combat, wasn’t it? Ceraunius Tholis? When Lord Pederson came to your rescue?”
“Yes. An attack along the Pilgrim Road. He was making pilgrimage himself and joined into a battle that was not his own to save innocent lives. After that day I made my pledge of allegiance to him. I was glad to be alive that day. But today it seems somehow...wrong.”
“I’m glad you’re alive,” says Rebecca. And hearing her say that, a small part of me begins to be glad, too.
Soon my mask is off. And my hands, Rebecca is rubbing them with the warm wet cloth. “It does not seem frostbite has set in for you, Sir Evan. Thank God for that.”
As Susan lights the heat lamp in the tent. I find myself asking Rebecca, “Why have you never married again?”
A smile touches her lips but it is not matched in her eyes. Her lovely hazel eyes. “Riders always want someone younger, Sir Evan. And I was never able to bear children.”
“I wouldn’t let that bother me. If you wanted to marry me.” Our eyes meet each other’s and we share a long moment of feeling need and the answer to that need in one other. The moment ends as Susan laughs, “One minute you want to die and the next you want to marry. Young people change their minds far too fast for an old bird like me!”
Rebecca smiles, now, both eyes and mouth, and I smile, too. Until I remember how my hands not only could not hold up poor Gallant, they did not even do me the service of plunging me down after him.
Susan hands me a fresh face mask. One dry and clean. And new gloves. I notice the oil fire of the heat lamp does not burn very well at this altitude. I stay seated in a small wooden chair and Rebecca wraps a thick goatwool blanket around me. Oddly, I begin to feel how cold I really am as I start to warm up.
From nowhere, Leftie runs into the tent, panting and wagging his tail. Rebecca pets him. He eventually comes my way and licks my hands. I find some joy in rubbing his ears before he wanders back to who is clearly his owner. She must have rescued him after his injury.
I’m not sure how much time passes before my lord enters the tent. He removes his gloves and mask and walks over to my chair and hunches down to my level before speaking. “Evan, I would have a word with you of a personal nature. Perhaps Rebecca can be excused?” He looks up expectantly at Susan.
“Sir Evan may not want her to leave. He just said he’d like to marry her.”
“Really?” Govnor Pederson looks from me to Lady Rebecca, who flushes slightly pink. “I did not even know Evan knew your name. Do you approve, Rebecca?”
After a pause, she replies, “It’s rather sudden, but I know Sir Evan well by his reputation. Besides, Leftie likes him. Yes, I approve.”
“Well, that settles the matter. I’ll conduct the ceremony myself if our Lord Jesu allows any of us to survive this war. Does that meet your approval, Sir Evan?”
“Ye-Yes, my lord. Though I find myself surprised at the suddenness, like Lady Rebecca herself. And unlike her…I, um, don’t know her reputation at all…”
“But you know she appeals to you? Believe me, Evan, that means a great deal in the practical consideration of the matter.”
“I do believe you, my lord, and I’m not afraid to marry. But it’s just, um…”
“Don’t worry, Evan. I assure you Rebecca is woman of the finest character. I say so not just because she is my cousin.”
I look to her and back to him. I had no idea.
Govnor Pederson looks at Susan. “Well, that settles part of the matter, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve told you that I thought Evan is simply a bit shy.”
I look to my lord and then to Susan. And back. “Er, excuse me...my lord?”
“Evan, this matter touches on my intended purpose to speak to you now. You see...for a variety of causes, some certain persons in the govment have proposed you could be a spy.”
“A spy?” I feel my face flushing. “Who would I be spying for?”
“The King of Olympus. I must say I have not believed it, but I’ve ordered Madam Susan to get to know you and examine your motivations. She finds no fault in you either.”
Now I understand why Susan favors me. And why I was singled out to test the cold suit, missing the information given out to the rest of the riders. Why I was the last to come up the rope. Why some eyes would not meet my own around the great fire. Perhaps even why Sir Isaac hates me.
My mouth is dry. “I…I suppose it’s because I was not born on Ascraeus.” I turn back to Susan, who frowns at my discomfort. Rebecca, standing next to her, smiles to encourage me.
My lord clears his throat, and I turn back to face him. He is standing up straight now, still in front of my chair. His short reddish beard, streaked with white, adorns a face itself reddened and thickened by decades of exposure to sun, cold, and wind. But perhaps his cheeks are a touch redder now.
His voice does not show it. “That is not all, Evan. It is the fact you never sought to marry, that you kept to yourself, that you were always so devoted to nothing but duty. That made some wonder if you never really were one of us. As if you were holding back because your loyalties lay elsewhere.”
My head hangs and my hands move up to cover my face. I feel sick to my stomach. “No one ever asked me about marriage…but I loved Gallant. And Josiah was my friend. I was not holding back...” My voice trails off.
Hands touch my right shoulder. Without looking up, I realize they are Rebecca’s, standing behind me. She says, “Evan, I meant what I said about your reputation. I have only heard good things about you. If some question you, they must be very few.” A warmth spreads from my shoulder to my chest. I realize how much I need the touch Rebecca gives me freely. And even more, what she said about me. That some believe I have done wrong weighs heavily on me. But with her, my honor is unspotted.
I move my hands from my face and meet my
lord’s gaze. To my surprise I find that tears well up in my eyes. “I was not holding back.”
His voice is a bit lower than before. “I know, Evan. I saw what happened today. If there was any doubt for me yesterday, it’s gone now. This is why I’m speaking to you. Though it seems those who doubted you haven’t seen enough yet.”
My hands cover my face again, this time to hide my anger. “What more do they need? Me to plunge to my own death?”
Low laughter rumbles from his throat for a moment. “Well, that certainly would resolve it in a way, wouldn’t it? But that is not what I want to happen. And by the right of my ancestor’s election and my lawful succession in his place, I am the leader of Ascraeus, not them.”
I consider what he tells me and an unusual notion passes through my mind as my hands drop back to my lap. “Why tell me about this at all, my lord? Even if you are convinced, not telling me the suspicions of others allows them to watch what I do without me knowing about it.”
The Govnor of Ascraeus smiles. “If you were an actual spy, you would suspect everyone was watching you at all times already. So there is no advantage in not telling you.”
“Oh. I see what you mean.”
“Plus I want to bring you into our war council, Evan. You’ve spent more time in this region than any of the rest of us. Perhaps some of our discussion will bring to your mind some bit of memory that will help us, something you would not think of otherwise. Though to bring you into the council, I believe you should know in advance that some of my other riders will not be glad to see you there. But only a few will have trouble, Evan.”
“I see, my lord.” I reach behind me, gently remove Rebecca’s hands from my shoulder, and stand up. “I am ready to go now, sir.”
He laughed again. “We are not quite so ready as you, my faithful rider. I shall return when I am prepared.”
The next moments blur together as I engage in often awkward but delightful conversation with Rebecca. Susan laughs and enters our wordplay at times, but mostly it is just Rebecca and Evan, she and he, as if Eve and Adam in the Garden of Eden. With a sled dog that Rebecca mentions she had rescued, who would have been put down for the loss of the eye, but she saved him. Leftie interrupted us from time to time, but we welcomed him, petting him. Adam and Eve in the garden of friendly animals.
