would face.
The ground shook. Once might have been a coincidence, but it shook again and again in a rhythm too like footsteps to be anything else.
Drivers covered their ears as a roar thundered through the palace. The thing that made that horrid scream showed itself, stepping from a side corridor with a form forged from nightmares. It stood easily twice the height of a kuduk, dark as coal ash and made of wrinkled leather. Its head was a nest of horns; its eyes red with a dull glow to them. A wide mouth parted to show fangs like thunderail spikes, and its clawed hands resembled grappling hooks.
The creature spoke, dust falling from the stonework as its voice shook the building. Its words were meaningless, but their intent was clear and unwholesome. Roto-guns fired from all angles, from steam tank and foot soldier alike. The creature threw an arm up to shield its eyes, and faint blue flashes glimmered around its skin where bullets pelted it to no avail.
“Fall back! Keep firing! Fall back!”
The creature cocked its head. “You speak daruu,” it said.
The revelation was of some small curiosity to the fleeing forces. It was far less important, however, than escaping the monstrosity that shrugged aside bullets. As steam tanks backed away and spun on their chains to make their way back to the world hole, spark lanced from the creatures fingers, crackling through the steel vehicles and fusing control sticks, gears, and parts of their drivers as the heat of the unnatural spark melted the metal.
One driver, untouched by the spark assault, sped on his way, but the shaking floor behind him was his only warning before the creature grabbed the roof of his steam tank and lifted it from the ground. Chains clattered in the air as the machine fought to move with no purchase on the ground to make such motion possible. The gunner fired in a panic, but the roto-guns had no angle to aim at any part of the creature. With a snarl, it tore the guns away and threw them across the room. With its free hand, it plucked the driver free of the vehicle by his neck.
“What are you? You’re no daruu.”
“I’m ... kuduk,” the driver replied, gasping for breath.
“What was that?” the creature asked. It relaxed its grip from lethal to merely inescapable.
“Kuduk. I’m a kuduk.”
The creature put its face close and sniffed the driver. Its lip curled in a sneer. “Mixed blood. My children would never rut willingly with the stone folk. You are a foul creature indeed. Where have you come from? How did you get here?”
“Down ... down by the vaults, a hole between worlds.”
“Oh?” the creature’s voice still held a note of anger, but its curiosity sounded almost human. There was that lingering high pitch at the end that could be heard among the slaves, at least when they talked among themselves. “What world?”
“Korr,” the driver replied. It sounded ridiculous. The week before, he had never considered the possibility of other worlds. Now he was giving directions to an otherworldly creature.
“Let us see about this ‘hole’ of yours.”
The creature set off through the halls of the palace, still clutching the kuduk driver by the neck. When he noticed a few paces later that he had inadvertently snapped the kuduk’s neck, the creature let the body fall and kicked it aside.
Draksgollow sat back in his chair, the metallic fingers of his tinker’s hand massaging the muscles of his fleshy one. The last of his troops were through the world hole, and the first of the runners just coming back against the flow of foot and chain traffic.
The runner pressed himself against the corridor wall as the last steam tank drove past, then stepped through and into Korr. “No meaningful resistance, sir.”
“Good. Send the next runner back when you reach the main body. I want constant updates.”
The runner saluted and put his rifle over his shoulder as he hurried back through the world hole to Veydrus to catch up with his
The ground shook. Once might have been a coincidence, but it shook again and again in a rhythm too like footsteps to be anything else.
Drivers covered their ears as a roar thundered through the palace. The thing that made that horrid scream showed itself, stepping from a side corridor with a form forged from nightmares. It stood easily twice the height of a kuduk, dark as coal ash and made of wrinkled leather. Its head was a nest of horns; its eyes red with a dull glow to them. A wide mouth parted to show fangs like thunderail spikes, and its clawed hands resembled grappling hooks.
The creature spoke, dust falling from the stonework as its voice shook the building. Its words were meaningless, but their intent was clear and unwholesome. Roto-guns fired from all angles, from steam tank and foot soldier alike. The creature threw an arm up to shield its eyes, and faint blue flashes glimmered around its skin where bullets pelted it to no avail.
“Fall back! Keep firing! Fall back!”
The creature cocked its head. “You speak daruu,” it said.
The revelation was of some small curiosity to the fleeing forces. It was far less important, however, than escaping the monstrosity that shrugged aside bullets. As steam tanks backed away and spun on their chains to make their way back to the world hole, spark lanced from the creatures fingers, crackling through the steel vehicles and fusing control sticks, gears, and parts of their drivers as the heat of the unnatural spark melted the metal.
One driver, untouched by the spark assault, sped on his way, but the shaking floor behind him was his only warning before the creature grabbed the roof of his steam tank and lifted it from the ground. Chains clattered in the air as the machine fought to move with no purchase on the ground to make such motion possible. The gunner fired in a panic, but the roto-guns had no angle to aim at any part of the creature. With a snarl, it tore the guns away and threw them across the room. With its free hand, it plucked the driver free of the vehicle by his neck.
“What are you? You’re no daruu.”
“I’m ... kuduk,” the driver replied, gasping for breath.
“What was that?” the creature asked. It relaxed its grip from lethal to merely inescapable.
“Kuduk. I’m a kuduk.”
The creature put its face close and sniffed the driver. Its lip curled in a sneer. “Mixed blood. My children would never rut willingly with the stone folk. You are a foul creature indeed. Where have you come from? How did you get here?”
“Down ... down by the vaults, a hole between worlds.”
“Oh?” the creature’s voice still held a note of anger, but its curiosity sounded almost human. There was that lingering high pitch at the end that could be heard among the slaves, at least when they talked among themselves. “What world?”
“Korr,” the driver replied. It sounded ridiculous. The week before, he had never considered the possibility of other worlds. Now he was giving directions to an otherworldly creature.
“Let us see about this ‘hole’ of yours.”
The creature set off through the halls of the palace, still clutching the kuduk driver by the neck. When he noticed a few paces later that he had inadvertently snapped the kuduk’s neck, the creature let the body fall and kicked it aside.
Draksgollow sat back in his chair, the metallic fingers of his tinker’s hand massaging the muscles of his fleshy one. The last of his troops were through the world hole, and the first of the runners just coming back against the flow of foot and chain traffic.
The runner pressed himself against the corridor wall as the last steam tank drove past, then stepped through and into Korr. “No meaningful resistance, sir.”
“Good. Send the next runner back when you reach the main body. I want constant updates.”
The runner saluted and put his rifle over his shoulder as he hurried back through the world hole to Veydrus to catch up with his
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