Part 34 (1/2)

The snow he crawled through changed from red and muddy, to pure white, trodden only by the heavy boots of stampeding Kolts.

He left his own trail of blood, but a Kolt did not look back, not unless- Sol heard the voices and shuffled around, half hidden by the deep snow. If he'd had feet, he would have stood and run at the voices. Something emerged from his mouth that might have been a chuckle. But he felt no mirth.

He saw them emerge from the snow shower to his right. They carried something bright, an object that might burn, but he would not turn away. Somewhere deep down he recognised the woman's face. It was a kill that he must make.

The pair paused close to the slew of dead people, and Sol seethed at the disgust on their faces. His daemon urged him to crawl at them, take them down, slash them apart. But something of his human nature remained as well, and that told him that he would never reach them as he was.

So he slumped down amongst the torn bodies and waited until one of them drew closer. Then he lifted himself on his left arm, plucked a throwing knife from his belt with his right hand, and flung it. His aim was true, and the woman fell with the handle protruding from the side of her head.

Sol screeched in delight and started crawling, hand over hand, ignoring what his hands sank into, and dragged his body across. Some of it was still warm. But he was focused on the woman he had dropped and the man running to her aid, because they were still fresh and alive. The thing she had been carrying had fallen into the mud. Its brightness forced against him, but his determination blinded and numbed him to its pain, his daemon madder and hungrier than ever.

The running man reached her first, glancing nervously at Sol as he went. But Sol did not pause to a.n.a.lyse threat or intent. He dragged what was left of himself forwards, and as he reached them he brought his sword around in a killing stroke.

The man stepped in front of the woman and lashed out with his spear. It connected with the sword and knocked it aside, but Sol's grip was solid. He struck the ground and rolled, then he threw himself at the man again. Sword and hardwood clashed, then the man's foot followed through, aimed at Sol's chin.

Sol dipped his head and felt the boot shatter one of his front teeth as it entered his mouth. Then he bit down hard, tasting mud and blood and snow in the boot's grip. He thrust up with the sword and heard a grunt, then started slas.h.i.+ng left and right, his view blocked by the man's foreleg before his face.

Something hit his arm and drove it down against the ground. Sol bit harder, and the man screamed. Glancing to the left, Sol saw the spear through his hand, his arm pinned like a collector's insect.

He let go and rolled, hoping that the momentum would pull the spear free. But he felt and heard the crackle of breaking bones in his hand.

Lying on his back, Sol reached for the short knife he kept in his belt.

Gasping, foot and thigh wet with blood and hot with pain, Bon staggered against Leki and tripped backwards over her p.r.o.ne body. He fell hard and heard her grunt, relieved at least that she was still alive.

But the knife is in her head!

He had little time, no time, because the legless monster that had been her husband was even now trying to rip himself free from the spear, mutilating his hand even more as he lunged towards Leki.

'b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' Bon shouted. He was shaking from the pain and fear, and now anger added to the rush that heightened his senses, pulsed through his muscles. He stood and looked around for a weapon, seeing a wide-bladed pike covered in blood and muck. Leaping for it, Bon was already swinging it as he turned back, bringing it around in a wide arc just above Leki's body.

The blade whispered through flesh and growled across bone as it opened Sol's throat to the elements.

His mouth fell open as he slumped down, but no sound emerged. Blood spurted from Sol's wound. He dropped the knife and tugged at the spear pinning his hand again, but his strength seemed to be leaving him. Each gout of blood made him weaker. He writhed, kicking with the ragged stumps of his legs, and Bon smashed the pike once more across his face.

Leki groaned, started shaking, hands and feet kicking against the snow-covered ground. Her groan went on and on, and Bon knew he needed to tend to her. But Sol was still alive, and still struggling.

Bon stepped past Leki and kicked Sol down. As he lifted the pike he felt a warm touch against his knee. Sol, weakened, was gripping him there, pulling himself upright and trying to bite his way into Bon's thigh.

He lifted the pike with both hands and brought it down hard onto Sol's shoulder. It entered at the base of his neck and Bon leaned with all his weight, driving the point down through the Kolt's chest and out of his stomach. Bon let go and stepped back, and Sol tipped onto his face in the snow.

His twitching decreased, and eventually he grew still.

Bon stepped around Leki and knelt by her side so that he could keep Sol in view. Then he saw for the first time the extent of what had happened to her, and all the breath went from him. Winded by confusion and grief, Bon cried out loud when Leki's hand found his, and squeezed.

'Bon!' she said. 'Get me to the Engine!'

The knife had entered her head just above her left ear. Only the handle and a finger's width of blade protruded. She still shook, and her left eye was filled with blood. But she was talking to him.

'Leki ...' he said.

'Engine.'

'I'll help you,' he said, and he could not hold back the blurring of his vision.

'Bon ... Engine.' She squeezed harder, insistent. 'Help me up. Guide me. And the heart ...'

Bon picked it up from where it had melted a pool of snow, wincing at the heat against his hand.

'Tell me what to do,' he said. He eased her up and Leki stood, holding onto his shoulder but supporting her own weight. She raised her hand towards her head, and Bon held it, forced it gently back down.

'I can't feel.'

'Don't touch,' he said. 'We can't touch. We mustn't.'

Leki turned to look at the Engine, and the movement made her unsteady.

'There's a way in,' Leki said. 'Help me find it.'

You should be dead, Bon thought. Your brains should be ruined, your skull shattered, your eye is full of blood. But to say any of this might invite the inevitable, so he helped her walk cautiously across to the machine.

It sang and growled, its voice almost too deep to hear. If it weren't for Leki's courage, Bon would have turned and fled, running from this place until he dropped. Everything wrong with the world was here, and here stood the woman he loved with a knife in her head. He knew that Leki could drop at any moment.

Close to the Engine, she let go of Bon's hand. She stumbled only a little as she went forward, leaning against the metal construct for support. She nursed Aeon's element against her breast like a baby, then turned slowly to look back at Bon, her left eyelid drooping to hide her blindness.

'A way ... in,' she said.

Bon nodded and circled the Engine. He stepped over bodies, picking up another spear in case some of them were still alive and ready to fight. But they were motionless and dead. Twenty steps later he had circled the Engine, and Leki looked even worse.

She leaned against the construct with her head tilted to one side by the weight of the knife. Her left eye was swollen with blood pressure, the lid almost completely closed, and her mouth hung open at an angle. She was shaking. But she was still alive.

'I can't find anything,' Bon said. The Engine had contours and seams and attachments and sockets, but nothing that resembled any sort of access. Each step he took, he'd felt that it was watching him. 'Is it initiated?'

Leki started to shake her head, then swayed. 'No ... but ...'

'But?' Bon prompted. How long until she can't talk? How long until she falls?

'Crex Wry ... is pus.h.i.+ng.' Leki leaned her forehead against the Engine. 'I think magic might ... come through ... soon ...'

Bon stared at the Engine. It sees me, he thought, and compared to Aeon's glare this thing's scrutiny felt deep and dark.

'Top,' Leki breathed.

Bon climbed up, hating the feel of the thing a the metal was warm, and gave the impression of giving, like a fleshy body a yet fighting against it. With each handhold or foothold he cursed what it might contain. Muttering old Fade curses under his breath felt good, and in a strange way invoking the names of G.o.ds he did not believe in gave him comfort. Perhaps it took him back to his childhood, when there were no dangers and he always felt safe.

On top of the Engine he had to crawl carefully, avoiding short spikes and longer antennae that seemed to thrum as if recently struck with something metallic. At the Engine's curved apex he found what he was looking for. Snow melted the moment it landed there, and the metal was slippery and warm, like something just born. The hatch bubbled at the edges.