Draksgollow had been to open pit coal mines that were smaller. The chamber dropped away, forming a valley and looking like a proper Korrish deep layer. There was no telling how deep the piles plumbed below the surface. Colored sparkles caught the eye, as gemstones and craftwork trinkets mixed among the coinage. The wealth of that single room was incalculable.
It was not going to be a quick plundering. Not at all. There was no way they would remain undetected and take one one-hundredth of the wealth from the sea of gold. It was time to bring his army and cleanse the city of humans.
“Why is he going to rush into this?” Gederon asked. The young daruu stood at the viewing frame, face nearly pressed against the wire webwork concealed behind the image. “It’s not as if that much gold is going to wander away on him.”
“You see, Geddie? This is why I took you on. You’ve got a thinker in that head of yours, and not just a bunch of hot steam like Draksgollow.”
“Shouldn’t we warn him?”
Kezudkan chuckled. “Now who’s rushing into things? Let him try. As you said, it’s not as if the gold is going to sneak off on us. We’ll still know where it is. If Draksgollow fails, we’ll still have a chance for it.”
“There must be some formidable defense for the gold to have remained all that time.”
“I agree,” said Kezudkan. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if this world still had dragons.”
The view of the awe-inspiring cache was gone, replaced by the corridors of the human city’s deep. Thirty steam tanks and a hundred hired guns on foot stood ready to receive orders. Everything about them was new, shiny ... untested. The signs of military might from the humans were next to nil, but overkill was the best sort of precaution. A small group of field sergeants had been given instruction on how to handle any rune-throwers they might run into: Keep shooting until it stops moving, then put a couple more bullets into their heads. It was the best Draksgollow could think of.
“You lot are going through to clear out and take control of the building you will enter,” said Draksgollow. “If it’s human, shoot it. If you’re not sure, shoot it. I don’t want prisoners, and I don’t want escapees. No survivors. Understood?”
“YES, SIR.” The workshop echoed with the chorus of replies. Draksgollow felt a little shiver of power hearing so many kuduk soldiers obey him. Steam tanks rumbled as the drivers started their engines.
Draksgollow put a hand on the switch that would open the world hole. “On my mark ... FORWARD!” He threw the switch, and the view turned into a hole to Veydrus—and riches beyond measure.
The halls of the Royal Palace of Azzat filled with the sounds of gunfire, steam tank chains gouging into the stone floors and humans screaming. If the primitive human weapons could have even scratched the paint on the steam tanks, the drivers would never find out. Roto-gun fire hewed down guards like practice targets before they had a chance to get anywhere near the vehicles. There were bumps in the smooth stone of the corridor when the steam tanks crunched their bulk over human corpses.
The stairs were the most harrowing portion of the raid thus far, with the incline tilting the center of mass dangerously close to tipping as the steam tanks swarmed through the human structure. Drivers leaned forward in their seats and prayed to the manufacturers that they had kept the balance point low enough. But one by one each steam tank made its way without fail. The humans fought bravely, or at least presented themselves to be bravely turned into shredded meat. They shouted unintelligible battle cries, with fury in their eyes as they charged, pointy sticks against armored roto-gun vehicles, with predictable results.
The work was growing routine by the time the convoy of destruction reached the main floor. Preventing non-combatant escapees was promising to be the most difficult task the steam tanks
It was not going to be a quick plundering. Not at all. There was no way they would remain undetected and take one one-hundredth of the wealth from the sea of gold. It was time to bring his army and cleanse the city of humans.
“Why is he going to rush into this?” Gederon asked. The young daruu stood at the viewing frame, face nearly pressed against the wire webwork concealed behind the image. “It’s not as if that much gold is going to wander away on him.”
“You see, Geddie? This is why I took you on. You’ve got a thinker in that head of yours, and not just a bunch of hot steam like Draksgollow.”
“Shouldn’t we warn him?”
Kezudkan chuckled. “Now who’s rushing into things? Let him try. As you said, it’s not as if the gold is going to sneak off on us. We’ll still know where it is. If Draksgollow fails, we’ll still have a chance for it.”
“There must be some formidable defense for the gold to have remained all that time.”
“I agree,” said Kezudkan. “I wouldn’t even be surprised if this world still had dragons.”
The view of the awe-inspiring cache was gone, replaced by the corridors of the human city’s deep. Thirty steam tanks and a hundred hired guns on foot stood ready to receive orders. Everything about them was new, shiny ... untested. The signs of military might from the humans were next to nil, but overkill was the best sort of precaution. A small group of field sergeants had been given instruction on how to handle any rune-throwers they might run into: Keep shooting until it stops moving, then put a couple more bullets into their heads. It was the best Draksgollow could think of.
“You lot are going through to clear out and take control of the building you will enter,” said Draksgollow. “If it’s human, shoot it. If you’re not sure, shoot it. I don’t want prisoners, and I don’t want escapees. No survivors. Understood?”
“YES, SIR.” The workshop echoed with the chorus of replies. Draksgollow felt a little shiver of power hearing so many kuduk soldiers obey him. Steam tanks rumbled as the drivers started their engines.
Draksgollow put a hand on the switch that would open the world hole. “On my mark ... FORWARD!” He threw the switch, and the view turned into a hole to Veydrus—and riches beyond measure.
The halls of the Royal Palace of Azzat filled with the sounds of gunfire, steam tank chains gouging into the stone floors and humans screaming. If the primitive human weapons could have even scratched the paint on the steam tanks, the drivers would never find out. Roto-gun fire hewed down guards like practice targets before they had a chance to get anywhere near the vehicles. There were bumps in the smooth stone of the corridor when the steam tanks crunched their bulk over human corpses.
The stairs were the most harrowing portion of the raid thus far, with the incline tilting the center of mass dangerously close to tipping as the steam tanks swarmed through the human structure. Drivers leaned forward in their seats and prayed to the manufacturers that they had kept the balance point low enough. But one by one each steam tank made its way without fail. The humans fought bravely, or at least presented themselves to be bravely turned into shredded meat. They shouted unintelligible battle cries, with fury in their eyes as they charged, pointy sticks against armored roto-gun vehicles, with predictable results.
The work was growing routine by the time the convoy of destruction reached the main floor. Preventing non-combatant escapees was promising to be the most difficult task the steam tanks
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