Of Silver and Beasts by Trisha Wolfe

open.
    Massive metal machines roll down the streets, their giant cogged wheels kicking up dust. Steam billows from copper pipes on their backs, and gears turn along their bodies, stacking cannonballs into tube chambers.
    Another boom rattles my eardrums as cannons fire on the city.

 

     
    I continue to stare in mute silence as the giant war machines roll downtown. Apparently the Otherworlders were spending their time building up their offense instead of becoming extinct like we thought. They’re not the dumb brutes the Cavan Council led us to believe.
    Otherworlders march behind the steam-powered machines in rows, their weapons held to their chests. They will annihilate Cavan in as little as an hour if we don’t stop them.
    Dipping toward the ground, I scoop a handful of sand and rub my palms together, scrubbing the sweat and blood away. I stand and grip my hilt, twist my palms until I get a good hold, and then move.
    As I maneuver along the side of the street, hunkering behind buildings and dodging the stomping, grunting Otherworlders, I pray to Alyah to keep my mother safe. My apartment isn’t too far from here, and it looks like the Otherworlders’ mission is the mercury plant. They’re tearing down sections of buildings in their wake, but not looting. They’ve come for mercury—and for slaves. It’s possible they’ve skipped our crummy apartment building completely.
    But do they mean to take over and stay, or are they bent on destruction and a power source only? I can’t process anything right now. I shake away my cluttered thoughts and head deeper into downtown, avoiding their army.
    When I turn down Straver street, I spot a group of Otherworlders wrestling citizens into one of their war machines. Shit. I can’t overpower five of them.
    Rolling my shoulders back, I suck in a breath and groan. Then I charge. If I’m going to die today, then I’ll at least take as many of these ugly bastards as I can with me. One’s head snaps in my direction and a wicked sneer splits his face. He raises his sword and our blades clang together.
    The Otherworlders behind him ignore our fight as they continue to chain citizens and force them into their machine. Thankful for their lack of appreciation for the protectors of Cavan, I smile and slice a deep cut into the Otherworlder’s arm. He balks, grabs the wounded flesh, and growls.
    I spin and jab my elbow into his rib cage, then raise my sword and angle the blade toward him. Before I connect with his stomach, he twists and grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back.
    “Let’s carve something into that pretty face,” he says.
    Struggling against his hold, I swing my sword left to right, trying to make contact. He pulls my back to his chest and captures my sword hand.
    I scream and snap my head backward, clocking him in the forehead. My skull splinters with pain, but I ignore the ache and send my heel into his groin. He releases me. Spinning, I turn my blade flat, and hack his head from his body.
    The Otherworlders look up and snarl. I run the back of my arm across my face, wiping it clean from blood and sweat.
    Two race at me as the remaining two jump inside the machine and order the vehicle forward. Its wheels turn as it lurches into a grinding and clanking motion. I know I can’t allow it to leave with the captured inside, which means I have to end these two quickly.
    I lift my sword, preparing for the impact.
    A rumble quakes the glass windows of the building beside me and I freeze. The Otherworlders halt their advance, and I look up. An army Cury-craft ripples the air around us as it lowers from above. It lands behind the Otherworlders’ war machine. Protectors spring from the side of the Cury as a low hum intensifies to a piercing whir. Then a zip of blue light blasts the back of the Otherworlders’ machine.
    The giant vehicle tips and rocks, smoke billowing from its back. The protectors surround it and then pry the metal doors open. They pull the