Creak.

A dented piece of the skyshroud’s black hull squealed against the stone of the cliff as the wind pummeled the side. Wires and lighter whatnots flapped in the current, some tangling, all clanging back to the surface when the gusts died.

The length, if standing upright, would top a five-story building, but it was only a small bit compared to the bulk of the sundered ship sitting further up the mountain. Lapis laughed to herself. Only a small bit, but it would easily smoosh them into the ground and continue to the river.

“I can’t believe I’m back here doing this shit,” Patch muttered, eyeing the mounds of softer dirt and snow downslope. The end of the piece had plowed into the ground, creating a hill of earth that stopped its momentum before it rammed into the wrought-iron fence of the mansion they saw Seeza at during their escape. The top had fallen against the eastern cliff, and now rested in creaking glory, a reminder that a quake could knock it loose. “You know what’s more boring than waiting for a noble to get ready?”

“Listening to a leadcommander wax poetic about the might of the Dentherion army.”

Lapis smashed her lips together to withhold a giggle as Patch pursed his lips at an unrepentant Jhor.

“There is no poetry in a leadcommander,” Sanna buzzed, annoyed. “Their hearts, their souls, sit vacant while they attempt to reclaim the breath of life.”

The khentauree’s eyes glowed a subtle cyan, then the light narrowed; Jhor settled his hand on her cloak-draped arm with a chuckle. It had surprised her that the rebels had cloaks to offer the mechanical beings, but apparently they had the Minq to thank for them. Jo Ban Jano’s modder had tested different fabrics for the terrboss, hoping to find something lightweight but warm enough to keep the man comfortable. He discovered that clothing made from the long strings of processed roundnut shells conducted heat but did not catch fire easily, so knitted a series of wires within. Midir believed the khentauree, as their chassis became sluggish in the cold, should wear them, and neither Sanna nor Path rejected the offer.

Lapis wished she had one, too. The chill played havoc with her wounded and aching shoulder, and having a punch of warmth while spying on the activity around the wagons would soothe her frustration and pain. It would recede once they encountered danger, but she did not envy her future self the ache that would follow.

“It is strange, that these humans returned to a mansion in danger of skyshroud fragments to retrieve this cargo,” Path said. She leaned over her front legs, her knees digging into the fallen trees that formed a barrier between them and the building, and peered intently at the blotchy shadows moving just outside the last wagon’s lantern light.

“It is,” Patch said. “We passed this place while escaping the ‘shroud. Seeza had the city guard loading crates containing a reddish-yellow rock onto the wagons, and they had Mesaalle Kez’s business logo on them. We showed up, and they ran instead of finishing the job. Looking back, they were probably expecting another enemy and fled before they ended up in a pool of blood. Seeza must be back to get those boxes. I’m curious, if Kez is forcing her. Seeza likes her skin quite a lot, and being up here jeopardizes it.”

“They can replace rocks,” Sanna said darkly. “They return for the khentauree.”

“There is something strange about the etak,” Path buzzed.

“Yes,” Sanna said, and did not elaborate.

“Strange?” Jhor prodded. “Strange like how? Dangerous strange? Corrupted memory strange?”

“There is violence in his words,” Path admitted. “He is a guard, so perhaps that is why.”

“He is military,” Sanna said. “Violence and arrogance befall him because of his programming.” 

“Doesn’t that make the head at the House a military guard?” Lapis asked. She had dealt with khentauree designed for combat, and she did not want to face more without Tuft’s icy help. They, with stealth, speed, and code that told them humans were the enemy, could take them out in a matter of moments.

“Yes. Why she hid this, I do not know.”

“They work against their code,” Path said. “That is strange, for combat khentauree. They usually insist that they must follow human orders, for it is in their design, their minds. It is their purpose.”

“The ones at Torc Bedan were having problems because they couldn’t connect with the console that issued orders,” Lapis said. “Tuft said they were unsafe.”

“These came later. Their reliance is on human voice, not static console.” Sanna adjusted the cloak as the wind played with its corners. “Later than me. Perhaps akin to Chiddle. They use aquatheerdaal instead of drabela, and their weapons are more potent because of it. But as Path said, combat khentauree listen for orders. It is their purpose. These do not, and they listen to no one.” Her buzz ended on a sour note.

Tia tapped the top of the trunk and pointed to the fence with a claw before bending lower, her fuzzy snow gear blending with the night’s shadows. Upon beholding her at the mansion, Lapis wondered what material the terrons used for cold weather outerwear; it covered every inch of her but for her face and feet, with black, feathery strands puffing up as if attached to a downy duckling. She looked somewhat odd, an elongated, scaled head sticking out of the fuzz, but from her lack of shivering, the clothing kept even the farthest reaches of her tail very warm.

They quieted as a shadow stepped fully into the last wagon’s lantern light. He wore a mottled grey uniform with a black pack and boots, knives strapped to his hips on one side, and what looked like a sheathed handheld tech weapon on the other. He pointed a larger firearm towards the sky as he motioned, and another, dressed in a large grey cloak, hastened to clamber up onto the driver’s box.

“Those are the mercs Midir warned us about,” Lapis whispered.

“Aren’t the Minq and Rams requiring identification papers to get through the blockades?” Jhor asked.

“Yeah, and that’s probably why the fighting happened—the Minq wouldn’t let them through,” Patch said. “Even if Seeza’s with them, she wouldn’t out herself like that. As the city’s last knight, she’d be detained on sight.”

The wind picked up, pelting them with needles, bits of snow, and other loose debris. The ‘shroud part creaked louder but did not shift. Lapis adjusted her mask as the biting cold swept past, then winced as her shoulder ached in response to the movement. She wanted to ignore it, but the throbbing did not cease. Had the painkiller stopped working already?

Tia tapped on the trunk to capture attention and signed. The skin-tight gloves she wore had rough padding to help with slipping, and a stripe down the bottom of each claw that glowed just enough to light the words she formed. The design proved terrons took functional cold weather wear seriously.

“Interesting.” Patch glanced at her and Jhor. “Tia says she smells a theerdaala mineral the terrons know as grimdal. The rocks have a reddish-yellow hue and a nasty burnt pine scent. Must be the same ones we saw a few days ago. She also smells the metal used in khentauree chassis, but it’s mingled with something else.”

“Like an oil or astringent?” Jhor asked. Tia shook her head and signed.

“No. It reminds her of sweet pack pepper.”

“Sweet pack pepper?” The modder sucked in a disbelieving breath. “The Dentherion army uses honey pepper mixed with a couple other compounds to prevent oxidation in long-term stored metal. If sweet pack pepper is honey pepper, then they’re using it to preserve the khentauree parts.”

Beams of light flashed above the broken iron fence, and they all shrank down. Shouts rose, strained, and men hastened to the back wagon, four pulling cargo tied onto two sleds with metal runners, four carting wooden boxes. They hefted the larger crates up and slid them in first, then set the smaller containers in front of them; Lapis swore she saw a faint glow of cyan through the loose boards of the third one.

“The etak is in a box,” Sanna buzzed, low enough to blend with the gusts. “Their distress is sharp as the cold.”

“Do the other boxes have heads?” Patch asked.

“Yes, but they remain silent. Chassis parts are in the crates. They are made from the alloy used for younger military khentauree.”

“So we need to steal the entire wagon?” Lapis asked. That was going to be tough.

“No—” Sanna began, before the night lit in an orange explosion.

The men dropped the sled handles and raced away, leaving the vehicle and the frantic driver, who yelled after them. He hopped down and scurried to the next wagon. That driver jumped down as green and blue tech beams brightened the darkness.

“Now or never,” Patch said. “Tia, keep guard. The rest of you, put the crates and boxes back on the sleds.”

They surged towards the wagon.

The drivers’ attention snaked to them, and both screeched as they beheld Tia; they fled, screaming, as another explosion rocked the air. The terron planted herself to the side, a shield for them as they lined up along the backside.

Lapis grabbed a small box, lowered it as Patch set another on top, and backed away, wincing in pain as the two khentauree hefted the larger crates back onto the sleds.

“The etak wants out,” Sanna said, her tone sharp. “He promises harm, if we do not free him.”

Tia rumbled and lifted her hind leg. The khentauree set a third small box beneath it, and the terron crushed the wood with a resounding snap. Lapis put the smaller boxes at the end of the first sled and retrieved the head from the broken boards. Red powder fell away from it, staining the snow a dark crimson. She brushed at the remaining dust, smearing it around rather than removing it.

The metal was a dark grey rather than silver, forming a head the size of her torso. Instead of a smooth surface with faint lines of a panel that opened into the interior, a plate sat above his brow, three rows of rivets keeping it in place. A second curved over his head, a thin line of cyan glowing in the center. His cheeks were sharply chiseled, his nose straight and long. Lines ran from the edges of his lips and curved under his chin, reminiscent of a puppet’s mouth. Khentuaree spoke through electronic sound boxes, so she found the design odd.

His eyes blazed cyan, and Sanna buzzed, harsh, indignant. Whatever she told him, the glow faded from his eyes, but not the line in his forehead.

“He is stubborn,” Sanna whispered. “He does not think we save him, so I asked, would he like to return to the box? If so, we will leave him here and tell his etak he did not want to reunite with her.”

Guilt worked wonders with khentauree, it seemed.

“Ask him if he wants the language module,” Jhor told the khentauree as he tied ropes around the crates. “It will be simpler for us to communicate directly, rather than through you or Path.”

“They scan for bad code,” Path said. “But they will install because their etak told them to.”

“Are they all awake now?” Lapis asked, peering past Tia. No guards rushed them yet, but the battle intensified, so they were busy. Hopefully it stayed that way until they left.

“Yes, but their resources dwindle,” Path said. “Only Noisy has enough power to remain up and active.”

“Noisy?”

The head’s voice crackled. Both Sanna and Path buzzed at him, and the noise lessened.

“I say noisy, for you are,” Path scolded as she and Sanna put the last crate on the sled. Patch and Jhor finished tying the ropes, and the two khentauree grabbed the handles.

“Get them to Lord Adrastos’s mansion as fast as you can,” Patch said. “Don’t worry about us; we’ll be right behind.”

Sanna’s head swiveled, and she stared at the building. Noisy’s eyes glowed a brilliant cyan.

“ENZ is still inside,” he said.

More orange, with a green after-burst, brightened the area.

“Gods and chains, what’s exploding?” Patch muttered. “The grimdal?”

Tia rumbled agreement and signed.

“If wagons are catching fire, we need to go.”

“It must be unstable,” Jhor said, pulling the fur-lined hood of his woolen coat over his head. “Theerdaala minerals often are when impure. If all these crates have grimdal in them, we need to leave before this place becomes a crater.”

A thunderous crack reached them; the hair stood up on the back of Lapis’s neck. What broke? Did she want to know?

“Sanna, Path, you need to get the other khentauree to Adrastos’s,” Patch said. “Tia, they’ll need a guard. Lanth and I will find the other etak.”

“They are on the second floor, to the east, in a smaller room.” Sanna swiveled back from the mansion and took Noisy from her. “Jhor, they are attached to machines. You must free them.”

“Tell them we’re coming. We don’t want a beam between the eyes.” The modder tapped his brow ridge.

“When you find them, tell them Sanna sent you,” the khentauree said. “Then they will know you rescue them.”

Battle beams increased; without another word, they separated. Sanna and Path pulled the sleds down the path Tia trampled to reach the wagon, the terron behind, and Lapis wished them a speedy trek to Lord Adrastos’s estate. Hopefully she, Patch and Jhor would get in, get out, and maybe even catch up, depending on how fast their frail human legs could run.