New Enemies

  Chapter 17

  Chain heard the shipment carriage shortly after crouching behind the boxes. She gripped her axes tighter, ready to strike. Her wounded side throbbed. Almost flat to the ground, she couldn't see who led the shipment, but heard them talking hurriedly. Their voices started as murmurs. As they approached, she could make out what they were saying.

  “This is bad. This is really fucking bad,” someone said. They were young, terrified, local. “Look at them, they've both been fucking attacked. There's only one person who'd–”

  “Shut up,” another hissed. She recognised the voice, but couldn't place them. “I can see what happened to Grain and Twist. Let us wait until we get there to see how bad it is.”

  The carriage came to a stop, and two people jumped from it. The Heretics cautiously knelt beside their bound allies. Rustling like silk, Grain took a deep and much-needed breath.

  “Twist is out,” the local boy said. “There's no way he'll be talking for a while.”

  “We can get a Doctor on the way,” the familiar speaker replied. “What happened, Grain?”

  “It was the Contegon,” Grain whispered. “It was Chain. She attacked us, took us down, and then she... she treated us, damn it. I’m so sorry, I—”

  “Shush, Grain, it's okay,” the familiar speaker said before kissing her. “You did all you could. This was a Contegon after all. What happened after she treated you? Did she look in the boxes?”

  “She just took off. I couldn't see what direction she went in. I'm so sorry. We were supposed to–”

  “I said it was okay, damn it,” he replied with a tut. “Look, we have gotten enough out of this place. I'll pack you with the stuff and we'll move on. There'll be other places, other towns, other schemes. Just like we talked about?”

  “Yeah. You and me. You and me.”

  “Get her in the back,” he said to the younger Heretic. “Lay her down on a blanket or something.”

  “What about the boxes? Shouldn't we do them first?”

  The familiar speaker tutted again. “Yeah, fine, move them.”

  The young Heretic walked toward Chain's hiding place. His feet crunched lightly on the flattened grass. His breathing was controlled now, but still betrayed his fright. Chain identified him as an administrative Merchant in the Family Mine, one of those Par had trusted to watch the Mine's perimeter, but she couldn't put a name to his face even when he stepped into view.

  Then he would die unnamed.

  Chain leapt and slammed an axe into his stomach. Strong armour cased the blow to bounce away, not gut him. He doubled forward, though, which exposed his neck. Chain span and brought her axe down below his hairline, strong enough to cut through his spine: he fell to the floor, limp. Blood gushed from the wound.

  Someone applauded, booming claps in the silence. It was Shovel, the Stationless young man. Thick armour, like a Disciple’s, covered him from crown to toe. A door built into his helmet revealed his smiling face, and the protection around his hands made his applause a strange drumming.

  “Well done, Contegon. That was astonishing! Under didn't stand a chance, did he? I can see how you took down Grain and Twist so easily.”

  Chain raised her axes. “I'm not interested in a Heretic’s praise.”

  “No, of course not. To make this easier, yes, I work for the Disciples. The Disciple Babbage brought me north from Call and showed me such wonders, buying my loyalty. I ran the smuggling of their materials for them, and I killed Side and Tissue.”

  Chain slowly approached, wanting to be close when she attacked. “Why tell me this?”

  “Because you killed a Babbage during the Battle for Aureu,” Shovel said, forming a fist. “You. A mere human. You had help, sure, but you did it. As such, I want you to fight without restraint – besides that wound in your side, of course – because you are the best the Contegons have to offer. And I want to kill the best.”

  “Pitiful,” Chain said.

  Shovel closed the door across his face, protecting him entirely. His grizzly eyes shone in the mix of Lun's cruel light and the torches attached to the carriage. “Let's get to it, shall we?”

  He burst forward at an impossible speed and shoulder-barged Chain. The impact sent her tumbling, but her training let her land on her hands and knees. Once she halted, she rolled aside, narrowly avoiding Shovel planting a knee into her chest.

  Having missed, his leg buried itself deep into the earth. This should have left him immobile, but he pulled himself away without effort. Chain jumped back to avoid a kick and fell into a rhythm of dodging: Shovel’s gauntlets were blunt, but they would do serious damage if he landed a hit. She ducked, wove, span away from attacks which could break her.

  The man moved too quickly, punched too powerfully, to be anything but a Disciple creation. It was amazing that he had mixed amongst Buckle without being detected. Had she not fought for her life, she would have stopped and panicked.

  Shovel laughed and tried a haymaker, but it – she wouldn't think of Shovel as human – telegraphed the attack, allowing Chain to easily duck it. She used the brief opening to slam both axes into its face, hoping to damage the clasp that held that facial armour closed. But her blades just chipped when they struck, much weaker than the Disciple metallurgy.

  This monster span to plant an elbow into her chest. Chain dodged the worst of the blow, but was still hit. Jarred, she stepped back, her teeth rattling. Shovel used the opportunity to grab her shoulders and throw her into the boxes.

  Chain managed to arc her body and land on her feet. Bending her knees, she absorbed the impact, but it ripped her wound back open. She allowed herself a scream before she rolled away from a foot-first tackle from the monster. Shovel's momentum carried him past her and into the delivery, smashing a box open. Some strange, dark material with the consistency of pork jelly was inside, strong enough to reflect Shovel's power and fire him back.

  That was her opportunity. As he pinged away like a rubber ball, Chain grabbed her Baptism – it was a miracle it had survived so far – and threw it at Shovel. The bladder landed on its back with a satisfying splash. The acids sizzled, but didn't eat through the armour as rapidly as she'd expected.

  Shovel stood and laughed. “A Baptism? Nice try, but this armour has been coated with... ah, it doesn't matter. It won't work. If that was your main card, then you're going to lose. And die. How pathetic you are, the best the Contegons have to offer.”

  To a small extent, he was right: Chain had no more cards to play, no more plans. She looked around for something to help her, scanning the floor and the boxes, everything.

  “I had hoped the Baptism would work better,” Chain admitted to buy herself time.

  “We adapt, Contegon. The Disciples adapt. You have no idea how quickly we can, have, and are changing to kill you all. And, well, you'll never see how it happens.”

  Her eyes moved across the boxes, Grain's watching form, Twist's unconscious one, everything and anything. She decided to hold Grain hostage, buy herself time as the thing seemed to have feelings for her. When Shovel's attack came in, she feinted to dive one way, but leapt toward Grain. As she rose, she placed her axe against the Cleric's throat.

  “Oh, what's this?” Shovel asked. “A hostage?”

  “Surrender and she lives, Shovel,” Chain said, allowing her chipped axe to cut Grain.

  “Shit, shit!” Grain howled. “Fuck, she's going to kill me. She's going to kill me!”

  Shovel shrugged in that heavy armour. “Then she's going to kill you.”

  “What?” Grain shrieked.

  “What?” Chain asked, her stomach dropping.

  “The mission comes first,” Shovel said calmly and easily. “The Disciples come first. I like you Grain, but I won’t step aside for you.”

  Chain tutted, unhappy that her gambit had failed. She lowered her axe.

  “I knew you'd stand down,” Shovel said.

  “Only because I'll need her as a witness after I've killed you.”

/>   Shovel clapped again, laughing heartily. “That's the spirit, Contegon. That's the vim and power I expect from one raised to fight for Sol. Though you’re truly pathetic, I will do you the honour of no longer playing with you. I'll end you now.”

  Chain threw Grain at Shovel and stepped aside to put the boxes further between them. It walked around the delivery, and Chain continued to use the boxes to prevent it charging her.

  “I am faster than you, Contegon,” Shovel said. “Running around the boxes won't work.”

  She knew it was right, but each stolen second gave her chance to save herself. Keeping going, playing an almost-childish game, she looked around, prayed for Sol’s luck to open up to her.

  Shovel sighed and ran at full speed, getting to her in a second. Fast as it was, Chain's reactions were better: she rolled away from fists with the power of a stampede. The Heretic hadn't been completely right about its armour: the Baptism had eaten through the metal, leaving a deep splash across his back. One she could break with her axes.

  The Disciple span to tackle her. She jumped away, avoided being grabbed, but not being struck: the attempted tackle winded her, nearly broke her hip. Chain landed a crumpled mess. When she tried to stand, her body denied her. All she could do was hurt.

  “There. Finally,” Shovel said as it walked over. “Finally, you're down. I've changed my fucking mind. You're going to suffer, Contegon.”

  It knelt, holding her down with its weight, and stretched her right arm out. The monster was too powerful to resist as it put the limb flat and stomped on her upper arm with all its strength.

  Chain’s bone crumbled under the blow like ancient paper. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything she had ever felt. It blinded her, consumed her, turned the world into a bright flare of madness. She bucked and thrashed, tried to escape the Disciple's grip. Instead, the vile thing stomped again, destroying what might have been her elbow. She couldn't tell. The pain was too great. Then it went further down, ground her forearm flat with its armoured boot.

  Her Contegon training kicked in and she didn't faint. She might have given anything to just end this pain, but she had to fight for Buckle and Carmen, who would surely be a target for Shovel's rage. Chain concentrated, teeth gritted, and excluded her arm from the world as her hand was crushed.

  “Hey, you're not giving up on me, now, are you?” Shovel asked with a laugh. “I'm only standing on your arm. You've got another one!”

  Chain looked up, tears in her eyes, and hissed, “Lun take you.”

  “Still so full of fire! It's no wonder you killed Babbage.” It shook his head. “I'll tell you, I–”

  A war hammer slammed into its head then, knocking it back only because the monster hadn't expected the blow. Chain looked up and saw Side at the other end of the hammer, his pale face filled with panic. He was clammy, sweating, but had the strength to knock the Disciple over.

  Shovel growled. “That was a mistake.”

  The Disciple launched itself at Side. The Miner didn't have her training or conditioning, or his health, so it picked him up and slammed him against its knee with a sickening crack. Side's spine snapped.

  Shovel laughed and threw him away. Side fell to the ground like a rag doll. The Disciple monster gave Chain a quick look, checked she wouldn't attack it with its back turned. She feigned weakness, wept, and it readily believed she was done, not knowing that fury and anger that powered Chain. When it turned, she used her working hand to stand. For its piece, Shovel did to Side what it had done to Chain, starting with his right arm.

  Holding her breath, being silent, she readied herself to charge. She would only have one chance to strike. With the strength of Sol, of a mother, of a friend who had seen an ally felled, she ran and slammed her axe into the weakened splash across its back.

  The Disciple stopped attacking. Black blood splashed from the wound. Its hands fell to its side, its body sagged. Chain screamed, attacked again and again, hacking through the wounded armour and into its back. Shovel didn't move, didn't react. She saw why when her axe broke the skin: silver threads running through its muscles had been severed by her blows, and they sizzled where they had been disconnected, This Disciple technology must have allowed it to move the heavy armour. Without these connections, it was trapped in its protection.

  Chain kept hacking until her rage was spent. The pain in her arm, dangling uselessly by her side, was all that stopped her. She dealt Shovel's back a tremendous kick, furious, and then walked around its form. It was still alive, trapped in its armour and bleeding out.

  She threw her axe into the soil and opened the clasp that protected its face. Gently, she opened the door. Shovel spat bloody phlegm at her and missed.

  “Fuck you. You will be dead in a year,” it hissed.

  “And you will be dead in a second.”

  Chain picked her axe back up and gripped it in her good hand, her only hand. Reaching back, tensed, she smashed it into the bastard thing's face, just below the eyes. Its nose was cut in two, and its dark blood sprayed out into the night. She sliced and cut and gouged until those white, cruel eyes turned glassy and lifeless. She hadn't realised she was screaming until she stopped. After a deep breath, she stumbled over to whatever remained of Side.

  “Contegon?” he whispered. He had landed face-up, staring into the night sky. He turned his head slightly, a look of pathetic relief crossing his face.

  “What are you doing here?” Chain asked, grateful and furious.

  The Miner smiled. “I couldn't stay away. I knew... you'd follow the delivery. When I came to, I fled and I came… for you.”

  “Well, thank you. Thank you,” Chain said, wincing in agony. She tried not to show it, for Side’s sake. “Sol drove you here, of that I’m certain. Now, I need to get you back to Marsh.”

  “How? Your... your arm is ruined.”

  Chain looked up at the carriage. “I know how.”