comrades. Draksgollow blew a long sigh as he found himself alone once more. Shouldn’t be long. First things first though. It was sorely tempting to start a crew plundering, but he wanted to be sure to clear the building first. Better to hold it as a defensive structure than worry about anyone coming upon their salvage crew directly. Caution. That was one of Kezudkan’s words, though he meant something different by it than most kuduks Draksgollow knew. The old daruu wanted things thought through, not rushed into half-assembled. His caution still allowed for using a machine in its technological infancy to conduct cross-world raids. Heeding the old daruu’s advice seemed to be paying dividends though. The human structure would be fully within his control before long and the vast treasure vaults free for the taking.
The first of the flood of soldiers quashed Draksgollow’s hopes. The distant sounds of gunfire and the gentle hum of far off steam tanks grumbling were drowned out by an awful bellow. Draksgollow had not been to a zoo since he was a boy, but he could recall no animal that could make such a noise, and he had seen no machine in Veydrus that held such a sound within it. His hired soldiers scrambled through the world hole with wide eyes and heaving chests. Most had their rifles, but not all had bothered bringing their weapons with them in flight.
“What’s going on out there?” Draksgollow demanded.
Heads shook. Shoulders shrugged. “I ain’t heard nothing like that before,” one soldier admitted. “Weren’t stayin’ to find out what it was.”
As more of his troops returned, including steam tanks that had backed their way down the corridors, Draksgollow plied his men for information, but nothing concrete was forthcoming. “I heard the order to retreat, so I did.” It was the best answer he got.
The sounds coming down the hallways were horrible. Kuduks screamed, the human screams having long since ended. Spark crackled. Metal smashed against stone. A tinker’s imagination held a variety of sounds and could piece them together into scenes of what might cause them. Draksgollow’s could put nothing together that allowed him to diagnose the situation.
One last soldier rounded the corner, blood slicked feet sliding out from under him. The soldier scrambled on hands and knees until he was able to regain his feet. Though the world-ripper insulated Draksgollow’s side from the vibrations in the floor, he could see the corridor floor shaking and heard the ram-piston footsteps approaching.
Draksgollow reached back for the switch to close the world-hole. The kuduk soldier still had several paces to make the world hole, and Draksgollow wanted to give the man a chance. When the creature came around the corner, Draksgollow’s guts clenched. It was a nightmare wrapped in flesh, the sort of creature meant to chase poor sleepers through a shadowed dreamscape, only to wake them screaming when its claws tore into their flesh. This creature was nothing imaginary. Its horns threatened to scrape the ceiling; its claws were drenched in blood; it was faster than the kuduk soldier but did not appear fast enough.
Draksgollow gritted his teeth, rooting silently for the soldier to make it through in time. The creature paused in its tracks when it saw the gathering on the Korrish side of the world hole.
“You will pay for my children’s lives,” it roared. Its hands came up, claws pointed through right for Draksgollow, or so it felt to the kuduk tinker.
The soldier was two paces from the aperture when Draksgollow opened the switch. The hole turned back into merely a view of a distant world. Flames poured silently from the creatures outstretched hands—if those clawed appendages could even be called such—and tore down the corridor. Draksgollow and the few kuduk troops who had made it back to Korr looked on in horror as the stranded soldier was burnt to cinders before their eyes.
There were sighs of relief, and a few
The first of the flood of soldiers quashed Draksgollow’s hopes. The distant sounds of gunfire and the gentle hum of far off steam tanks grumbling were drowned out by an awful bellow. Draksgollow had not been to a zoo since he was a boy, but he could recall no animal that could make such a noise, and he had seen no machine in Veydrus that held such a sound within it. His hired soldiers scrambled through the world hole with wide eyes and heaving chests. Most had their rifles, but not all had bothered bringing their weapons with them in flight.
“What’s going on out there?” Draksgollow demanded.
Heads shook. Shoulders shrugged. “I ain’t heard nothing like that before,” one soldier admitted. “Weren’t stayin’ to find out what it was.”
As more of his troops returned, including steam tanks that had backed their way down the corridors, Draksgollow plied his men for information, but nothing concrete was forthcoming. “I heard the order to retreat, so I did.” It was the best answer he got.
The sounds coming down the hallways were horrible. Kuduks screamed, the human screams having long since ended. Spark crackled. Metal smashed against stone. A tinker’s imagination held a variety of sounds and could piece them together into scenes of what might cause them. Draksgollow’s could put nothing together that allowed him to diagnose the situation.
One last soldier rounded the corner, blood slicked feet sliding out from under him. The soldier scrambled on hands and knees until he was able to regain his feet. Though the world-ripper insulated Draksgollow’s side from the vibrations in the floor, he could see the corridor floor shaking and heard the ram-piston footsteps approaching.
Draksgollow reached back for the switch to close the world-hole. The kuduk soldier still had several paces to make the world hole, and Draksgollow wanted to give the man a chance. When the creature came around the corner, Draksgollow’s guts clenched. It was a nightmare wrapped in flesh, the sort of creature meant to chase poor sleepers through a shadowed dreamscape, only to wake them screaming when its claws tore into their flesh. This creature was nothing imaginary. Its horns threatened to scrape the ceiling; its claws were drenched in blood; it was faster than the kuduk soldier but did not appear fast enough.
Draksgollow gritted his teeth, rooting silently for the soldier to make it through in time. The creature paused in its tracks when it saw the gathering on the Korrish side of the world hole.
“You will pay for my children’s lives,” it roared. Its hands came up, claws pointed through right for Draksgollow, or so it felt to the kuduk tinker.
The soldier was two paces from the aperture when Draksgollow opened the switch. The hole turned back into merely a view of a distant world. Flames poured silently from the creatures outstretched hands—if those clawed appendages could even be called such—and tore down the corridor. Draksgollow and the few kuduk troops who had made it back to Korr looked on in horror as the stranded soldier was burnt to cinders before their eyes.
There were sighs of relief, and a few
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