Aurora Wolf

 

The Wargod’s Chariot

by Billy Wong

It waited amid darkness and silence, a soulless force of destruction with no mind for the centuries it had rested.  No need for food or air or company programmed into it, it was content to inspect itself without end.  Though nothing else was there to listen, it spoke as it often did, its emotionless voice echoing from the walls of its prison.  “Scan complete,” it said.  “No errors detected.  Awaiting input…”

#

     Rhona the Wild Axe dragged herself back to her feet, blinking to clear away the blood that dripped into her left eye.  But she could do nothing for the swelling of both eyes from absorbing countless punches.  Her opponent closed in across the dirt ring, and she raised heavy hands to defend.  The huge man’s fist slammed against her bruised ribs, then his right blasted into her face and threw her sideways from her feet.  Grimacing with the ache in her jaw, she got her arms beneath her and instinctively began to rise.  Then the horn blew and the crowd erupted into cheers, and her mind registered that she had lost.

     “You all right?” her victorious brother asked, extending a hand to help her up.  “Hope I didn’t hit you too hard.”

     Rhona took his hand and stood rubbing her throbbing head.  She hurt all over above her waist, her hands from punching people, everything else from getting punched.  “I’m fine, you know how hard I am.  Thanks for not holding back.”

     Then she moaned, “It wasn’t fair, though.  I got smashed to a pulp by that giant Angus last round, and you only had to beat a guy who got as far as he did by paying his opponents to lose.”

     “Luck of the draw.  Besides, for a coward he could punch.”

     “But could he take a hit?” she asked in a sardonic tone.

     “I suppose not.  I did put him down in one.”

     Rhona smiled.  Her loss aside, Colin was clearly enjoying himself, and that was what really mattered.  Good thing she had managed to convince him to take part in the Greathill Games; a welcome diversion after his failure to find his kidnapped son. 

     Leaning against each other, they went to the ringside trough to wash the blood and sweat from their faces.  Colin looked somewhat dizzy, no doubt from Rhona’s punches.  She had at least acquitted herself well.

     “My neck’s stiff,” she said.  “We should have a rematch sometime.”

     “Maybe we should.”  He grinned.  “I’d win again, though.  I am twice your size.”

     She shrugged.  “Angus was bigger, and I knocked him out.  Ready for your next match?”

     I don’t know,” he admitted with a look around.  “He has beaten every man he’s faced within ten seconds.”

     “Has he even met a quality fighter yet?”

     “The man he defeated in the quarter-finals was last year’s champion, Rhona.”

     “Well, we weren’t here then.  But it would be embarrassing to have our return marred by a loss to that foreigner.”

     Colin sighed.  “He is good, I’ll give him that.  But I don’t see why he had to invade our turf.  I wouldn’t travel so far to win a giant fake key.”

     “Maybe he just wanted to fight the best.”  She recognized a faraway voice and turned.  “Look, there he is.”

     He followed her gaze across the bustling field to a lanky man of average height, with thick lips and slanted eyes.  Mo Ming, the foreign fighter who had demolished his way to this year’s finals.  His bulky robe made him look larger than he was, and Rhona thought the pins holding up his long hair less suited to a warrior than a noblewoman.  His posture erect and confident, he headed towards the siblings.  “What terrible savagery,” he said as he regarded their cut, swollen faces.  “In my country, honorable men do not strike their sisters.”

     Familiar with such insults, Rhona summoned her usual anger.  “I’m a warrior, and I wanted him to strike me.  You think I can’t hold my own?  I gave him most of those bruises on his face, and I’m of a mind to give you some too.”

     “You take me the wrong way.  There are female warriors where I come from too, and I treat them with the respect due their skill.  But still, their brothers would not strike them.”

     “It’s called competition.  I was in the contest; he either had to hit me, or give up and lose.”

     “This fist fighting of yours is too brutal to be treated as a game.  Such violence should only be resorted to for defense, not in the name of sport.”

     Colin scowled.  “And yet you’re here, aren’t you?  Why don’t you just withdraw yourself, if you find it so improper?”

     “Don’t say that,” Rhona said.  “He could twist it around to make you out to be a coward!”

     “I have no interest in verbal warfare.  As for your contest, though, I have no choice but to win–and I will do so.”

     Ming walked off, leaving the siblings to ponder his words.  “No choice?” Rhona mused.  “That sounds extreme, even for a driven fighter.  You think it means anything?”

     Colin shrugged.  “I don’t know.  But while he may not think he has a choice, I know I do.”

#

     An hour’s break later, Colin noticed Rhona watching them as the finals got underway. Ming and Colin stood across from each other in the ring, the audience voicing their loud support of the latter.  It made him feel both proud, and worried about disappointing them.  His body felt dangerously sluggish, and it was difficult to keep his eyes open.  The fight with Rhona had taken everything out of him.  A horn blew once, and the fighters closed. 

     Colin’s fist hammered down in an overhand punch and missed, Ming ducking it neatly before unloading with a series of blows to the belly and solar plexus.  The power behind them was staggering; their impact seemed to penetrate deep into his body.  Colin stumbled back, trying but unable to give himself some breathing room.  Ming drove him to the edge of the circle, nearly into the arms of the crowd.  He shoved Ming back and rushed swinging wildly.  Ming darted aside and landed a punch to the base of his skull.  He saw a white flash, then for a moment could not see.  His legs buckled, and he fell to his hands and knees.

     He lurched up a moment later, blinking and shaking his head to clear it.  Perhaps he should have waited a moment longer to rise, he thought as Ming went back to battering his torso.  His head was still ringing, and his legs unsteady.  Still, he tried to fight back.  He attempted to grab Ming in a clinch, but the man kept one arm free and punished his middle with repeated blows.  He pushed him away and flailed desperately with his fists.  Ming took two weak punches on his forearms, then stepped in and snapped Colin’s head back with an uppercut.  His teeth clacked together, and his brain seemed to go numb.  He fell to his rump, gasping, and fought not to pass out.

     “Come on, Colin!” Rhona yelled.  “You can do better than that!”

     Swaying where he sat, Colin considered dazedly what Rhona would say if he lost.  She would surely claim she could have done better, with her great speed.  But he had beaten her, and besides his pride would never let him concede that.  He stood unsteadily.  Slow to raise his fists, he caught a punch which mushed his already shredded lips against his teeth and reeled away.  Ming advanced after him, unloading with punches.

He’s so much smaller than me, Colin thought on the brink of losing.  One more knockdown and it was over; not that he thought he could get up again, anyway. Damn his speed! If only I could hit him… well, as long as he isn’t as sturdy as Rhona.

     Almost at the edge of the ring again, a hard blow to the cheek spun Colin around.  His legs turned soft as stew beef, and he started to fall.  Then he heard Rhona shriek and summoned his last shred of energy.  He caught himself and continued his spin with speed.  As he turned to face Ming again, his fist drove hard into the foreigner’s belly to lift him from his feet.  An instant later, Colin’s uppercut launched him through the air.  He landed on his back in the center of the ring and did not rise.

     Upon being sure that he had officially won, Colin collapsed.

#

     “That was too close,” Rhona said as she dabbed at Colin’s face with the wet cloth.  “I would have won more decisively.”

     “Sure, sure,” Colin said, his headache too fierce for argument.  “But at least I managed to win the prize.”

     Rhona looked to the bronze sculpture under his arm, fifty pounds of molded metal in the shape of a key.  Not a great weight for either of them, but a cumbersome burden indeed.  “That thing’s not much.  It’s what we did that counts.”

     He nodded, and then gazed past her as he spotted Ming.  The proud fighter now walked gingerly, steps cautious as if to keep from falling.  Colin wondered how his head was feeling.  Ming stopped in front of the siblings and stared down into Colin’s eyes.  “I require your trophy.”

     “What, you need it to lie about beating us?” Rhona replied.  “Too bad; we won it, and you can’t have it.”

“I won it,” Colin reminded her, “and I’ll decide whatever happens to it.  But why do you want it?”

     “I need it for the sake of my daughter.”

     “Save your daughter with that?”  Rhona scoffed.  “What are you going to do with a fake key?”

     “It is slightly complicated.  My daughter was taken by a mighty enemy, who has agreed to return her in exchange for the key you hold.”  He looked bemusedly at the ungainly object.  “Yes, it is a real key, and said to unlock a great treasure.”

     Colin frowned.  Having had his own child taken from him, he sympathized with Ming’s plight.  On the other hand… if he won this treasure himself, the extra wealth could certainly prove useful when he resumed the search for Jesse.

     Before he could choose his words, Rhona essentially asked his question for him.  “So you’re saying this key could make someone rich, and you want us just to hand it over to you?  What do we get, in return for giving up the treasure?”

     Ming smiled.  “I had suspected you would ask that.  But only a select few people know where the treasure is located; and I’ll hardly tell you if you intend to steal it.”

     “Steal it?  The key is justly ours.”  Her eyes narrowed.  “And I could make you tell us, one way or another.”

     Colin put a hand on her shoulder.  “Relax, sis.  The key is mine, but it wouldn’t do to attack him unprovoked.”  He turned to Ming.  “I understand your need, but it does seem a bit unfair to ask us something for nothing.  Isn’t there something you could give us in return–like part of the treasure?”

     Ming’s hopeful eyes bode well for a compromise.  “The particular item my enemy desires is in one piece, which cannot be divided.  But I expect there would be other treasures in the same location, though you would have to come with me to retrieve them.”

     Colin had no objection.  Without any current leads as to his son’s location, he had no pressing engagements.  “Will your daughter’s captor mind if you deliver the treasure personally, instead of the key?”

     “I doubt it will make a real difference.”  Ming grinned.  “If anything, it may put me in a better position to negotiate.”

#

     Weeks later, the trio was making the rough descent into Blossom Basin.  Bright with sun and a vibrant rainbow of foliage, the lush valley yet invited many a fierce and perilous wind with its high walls.  Though accustomed to braving steep climbs and unaccommodating weather in the highlands, Colin was less than pleased about their schedule.  On the side of their latest sheer cliff face, he said, “We better be close.  You never told us we’d have to leave the country.”

     Rhona responded before Ming could.  “What are you complaining about?  Bran hasn’t even found any leads on your son, so you have time to spare.”

     “Who knows if he still hasn’t by now?  It’s been forever.”

     Ming shrugged.  “You think I didn’t travel far for the key?  What I would like to know is why must I carry it?”

     “You were less battered than us when we left,” Colin said. 

     “You’re the one who wanted it,” Rhona added.  “Well, now you have it.”

     “It’s heavy.”

     Halfway down to flat ground, Colin felt his rope give way.  He heard Rhona yelp, and realized hers too had failed.  Blood pounded in his veins as he fell, but after twenty feet caught himself on the cliff’s natural handholds.  He looked up to see Rhona also safe, having stopped her fall a body’s length above him.  Luckily, they had not really needed their ropes.  Ming even clung to the rocks at nearly the same height they had broke. 

     Rhona made the obvious conclusion.  “Somebody must have cut them!” she yelled, just before green-painted faces peered over the ledge above and spears started to rain down.

     Colin growled as he closely hugged the wall, a javelin passing near enough to feel on the hairs on his neck.  With little other choice, he climbed downwards with haste–only to feel the sting of an arrow in the back of his thigh.  He looked down to see archers emerging from the bushes and scowled. 

     “I’ll take care of the ones up top,” Ming said, and to Colin’s disbelief broke into a run up the sheer side of the cliff as if scaling invisible steps.  Eastern magic?  He disappeared over the top, and moments later unearthly howling and panicked shouts filled the air. 

     Rhona leapt her way towards the ground, passing Colin quickly as she covered ten feet or more with each jump.  Arrows stuck in the back of her shoulder and hip, but hardly slowed her.  For his part Colin began to scramble down like a backwards spider, though he could not match his sister’s speed.  Arrows snapped against the rock around him.  Rhona reached the ground, immediately laying into the closest archers with axe and shield.  Colin felt another sharp pain in his upper arm, and decided to throw caution to the wind.  With only twenty feet left to descend, he threw himself from the face and onto the enemy.

     He bowled two over and came up fighting, gritting his teeth against the pain of the arrow lodged near his elbow as his axe sheared away the top of a skull.  He ripped open both felled men’s faces with a wide swipe, and then rushed the nearest standing archer.  The ponytailed warrior raised his shortbow and fired, but Colin beat the shaft aside and slammed bodily against him.  He bowled the lanky archer over and drove the butt of his axe down, crushing the sternum.  Another man rushed in, sword flashing down in a mighty chop.  Colin sidestepped and swung, splintering his ribs into the lungs and heart. 

     Three more advanced, spreading out in a loose semicircle to flank him.  The air was full of Rhona’s feral shrieks while she slaughtered other enemies.  Colin fixed each foe in turn with a deadly stare.  “Not what you had in mind, is it?  You must have thought your plan the perfect deathtrap, and so it is–for you.”

     The men rushed as one, two axes and a spear closing in like steel teeth.  Colin spun, parrying the spear with his axe haft and gutting an axeman in the same move.  The second axeman came in, chopping at his neck.  He ducked and let go of his axe with one hand, thrusting his arm between the man’s thighs.  Then he heaved, throwing his opponent overhead to land on his head.  A loud crack split the air, and he did not move again.

     The spearman had recovered by now, and with a scream of rage jabbed at Colin’s face.  He slapped the point off course, hissing when the edge cut his hand and stepped in.  The enemy tried to back up, but he grabbed the spear shaft and pulled him forward into a haymaker punch.  The man’s face seemed to warp on impact and he fell like a hewn tree, senseless or dead.

     An arrow struck Colin in the calf.  He felt a dull burn, but nothing more as the pain was dulled by his battle fury.  The archer shot again, but he leaned aside and it passed inches from his face.  He broke into a limping charge, but a huge warrior jumped in front of him and slashed a great sword at his face.  He blocked, but the impact drove his tired body to its knees.  The archer notched another shaft, and Colin saw his death (in/as) the arrowhead lined up with his eye.  He glanced around for Rhona, but she was nowhere in sight.  The man loosed…

     Colin shifted under the big warrior’s sword, just saving his life as the arrow grazed his temple instead of driving through his eye and brain.  But the swordsman took advantage, shoving against their locked weapons and pushing Colin to the ground.  He pulled the blade up and away, raising it for the deathblow.

     Colin kicked the man in the stomach, driving him back a step.  He recovered quickly, his sword whooshing down, but Colin’s axe whipped up from the side and crashed into the descending blade, which exploded in a spray of sharp shards.  Colin covered his face with a forearm, grimacing as steel tore into his flesh.  His opponent was less prepared and fell away howling while he clutched his shredded face. 

     Eager to deal with the annoying archer, Colin sat up–and caught an arrow in the mouth.  The wedge-shaped head sliced through his lips and lodged against his teeth, and the taste of warm blood rolled over his tongue.  He spat the arrow out and closed his mouth tight, trying to hold his mangled lips together. I’m ugly he thought distantly. Then again, I never was that pretty.

The archer met his gaze as he stood and charged, and Colin watched the nerve flee his eyes.  He dropped his bow and ran, and Colin cursed.  He was unsure of his ability to catch the smaller man, especially with the wounds in his legs, but hungered to avenge his pain.  He pulled his dagger from its sheath and hurled it at the archer’s back, but he ducked and it sailed over his head.  Colin ran after him.

     His downhill chase led him past many a tree, but Colin only gave passing thought to the fact he was leaving his companions behind.  Suddenly the man tripped over a jutting rock and fell, and with an opportunistic burst of speed Colin threw himself atop his back.  The archer rolled to his back and tried to rake at his eyes, but he grabbed the hand and wrenched it backwards, snapping the wrist.  He screamed in agony.

     “Look upon the face of death,” Colin snarled through torn lips.  He held his balled fist up before the archer’s eyes, watching the terror grow in them for long seconds.  Then he punched down, caving in the face with a wet crunch.  Standing up, he spat on the corpse and flexed his aching hand.

     Just then Colin heard a high-pitched battle cry accompanied by deeper shouts of fury and turned to see Rhona burst from the trees a few yards away, driving before her a trio of foemen.  That they had both managed to end up here was a pleasant surprise.

     Her axe swept through the air as he watched, shattering a sword and forcing her enemies back.  But the third man let her swing pass and stepped in.  She reversed her cut with fearsome speed, shearing right through his skull and continuing on to rip away another’s face.  The last man turned to run, but she picked up the broken sword and threw.  It went home neatly between his shoulder blades, and his limp body flopped to the ground.

     Colin staggered towards her, weariness replacing his spent battle fury.  New arrows protruded from her chest, side, and thigh, but she seemed to be fine–or no worse off than him, at least.  “That was some ambush, huh?” she said.

     He spat blood and sighed.  “Yes, it was.  Let’s go find Ming.  This will have been some waste if he’s dead!”

#

     They found Ming waiting quite unscathed at the base of the cliff, and treated their wounds before resuming their journey.  Colin grew upset to see Rhona’s face taut with pain, and his own injuries were rather bothersome.  It hurt to move every limb save one arm, and his sliced lips made eating torture.  “Were those men sent by your daughter’s captor?” he asked through the side of his mouth as they walked.  “How did they know we would be here?”

     “Yes, they must have been.  I suppose she doesn’t trust me.”

     “Her?” Rhona asked.  “This enemy of yours is a woman?”

     “What of it?  Women make for enemies as well as for warriors.”

     “Are we almost there yet?” Colin snapped. 

     “If I remember correctly, we should be just about there.”

     “Remember?  Shouldn’t you have brought a map?”

     “And risked letting you steal it?” Ming replied, and Rhona pouted mischievously.

     They soon came upon a small pool against the canyon side, its surface light yet too opaque to see through.  Ming stepped forward, holding out the key.  “What are you doing?” Rhona asked.

     “Watch,” he said, and dropped it into the pool.  An intense bar of light moved across the water, and then there was a click followed by a mighty grinding as the earth shook under their feet.  When it was over, the rock wall gaped open before them.  They walked down a sloping tunnel along which ran what looked like veins of steel, and shortly widened into a vast chamber.  At its center stood a wheeled metal vehicle the size of a keep, like a great armored carriage bristling with shiny tubes. 

     Colin blinked.  “That’s the treasure?”

     Ming could hardly contain his delight.  “Yes–the Wargod’s Chariot, Dreadstar!”  

     “Where’s our cut?” Rhona asked.  “I don’t see anything else in here.”

     “It seems you’re right.  Nevertheless, I’ll have the funds to repay you soon enough.”

     Hearing the construct’s name, Colin realized it to be some kind of weapon from ages past.  Warrior of warriors he was, it automatically disturbed his sense of honorable combat.  “You plan to give that to your enemy?” he demanded.  “Do you know what she would do with it?”

     “What does it matter?  As long as I get my daughter back, nothing else is important.”

     Colin shook his head, though he wondered if he would be a hypocrite in the same predicament.  “This thing must be capable of terrible destruction.  How many other people’s daughters are you willing to sacrifice?”

     Ming met his eyes.  “You can trust me.  I won’t give Dreadstar to anyone, but use it to save my daughter myself.”

     “What?  That won’t solve anything!  Just to unleash it into the world would cause great and unnecessary danger.”

     “Unnecessary for who?  With Dreadstar’s power, I could smash my wife’s armies and take back my child!”

     “Your wife?” Rhona asked suspiciously.  “Does your daughter even prefer to be with you?”

     “She… it doesn’t matter!  It will be best for her.”

     Colin shrugged.  “I don’t know who’s in the right in your conflict.  But we can’t let you take Dreadstar.”

     “But I led you here!  You wouldn’t even be here if not for me.”

     “We came for treasure,” Rhona said, “and haven’t even gotten any.  Besides, you might have fallen to your wife’s men if not for our aid.”

     “Unlikely.”

     “Then it was your mistake to bring us.  As Colin said, that thing stays here.”

     Ming drew his sword, its pommel molded into a screaming face, and a literally painful howling split the air.  Colin longed to cover his ears, but kept both hands on his axe.  Ming grinned.  “You know why I asked you here?  Because I needed the key, and didn’t want to draw undesired attention by killing you for it.  But there’s no one around now.”

     “I beat you before,” Colin said.  “What makes you think the two of us won’t?”  He charged, and their weapons met.  To his shock, Ming’s sword cut right through his axe and deep into his shoulder.  He stumbled back, blood gushing down his chest.

     “This is the Banshee Sword.  It cuts through anything.”

     Rhona darted between Colin and Ming, who slashed furiously at her.  Knowing her weapons could not stand up to his; she ducked and dodged, grimacing from the proximity of the howling blade as he drove her across the room.  Colin rushed

Ming from behind, but he leapt straight up, allowing Colin to pass below him, then kicked into the back of his head and knocked him into his sister’s arms. 

     “I cannot lose!” Ming cried, a hard backhand with the sword causing the siblings to moan as blood leaked from their ears.  Another swing brought them to their knees.

     Rhona flung her arm forward, slinging her shield at Ming.  The Banshee Sword flicked out, slicing it in half.  She followed it in, her axe coming down in a deadly arc.  Ming’s sword chattered to the floor, still gripped in his hand.

     “Your sword may be invincible,” she said as he stared at the spurting stump of his elbow, “but you aren’t.”

     Clutching the ghastly wound, Ming ran.  “I may have lost to you,” he gasped, “but Dreadstar won’t!”  Reaching the colossal machine, he ran up its side and to the metal pedestal at its helm.  “But how to make it work?”

     Colin climbed up after him, but when he reached the top Ming picked a disk off the pedestal and hurled it at his throat.  He dropped back, and it sailed over him to shatter on the ground.  Rhona pried the Banshee Sword from the severed hand, then raised it and threw.  It struck the pedestal and went through, to impale Ming as well.  He convulsed as electricity coursed from Dreadstar into his body, roasting him to a crisp. 

     “Looks like it really does cut through anything,” Rhona mused.

     An instant after he stopped twitching, a cool female voice issued from the machine.  “Available Portals upgrade detected.  Now installing…”

     “What was that?” Colin asked.

     Rhona shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Probably doesn’t matter, though.  But we didn’t get any treasure, damn him!”

     “You want to take his Banshee Sword?”

     She considered for a moment, then frowned.  “No.  Don’t know if it’s made with that eastern demon magic, and I want no part of that.  Let’s just check around for anything else and go.”

#

     They found no secret treasures, and fished the key from the pool just to not waste anything more than they already had.  The canyon side rumbled closed, and they headed home with nothing to show for their trip but about a dozen new scars. 

     They had not gone far before the sound of crunching rock filled their ears.  Turning, they saw the wall smashed open, Dreadstar looming in the hole.  It surged forward, and not understanding they ran and scrambled up onto a high ledge. 

     Ming’s irate voice thundered through the valley.  “Think you can escape?  You will not deny my revenge!”

     “How the hell?” Colin spat, glancing at Ming’s charred body still pinned in place.  “You’re dead!”

     “I transferred my spirit into Dreadstar.  Now I will kill you, and take my daughter back even if I am a machine!”           

     “Big words, but can you reach us?” Rhona asked.

     A crazed glee entered his voice.  “Perhaps not, but my weapons can!  Before me I see a… menu, of choices for the method of your destruction.  Ah, here is one: Heavenly Flame Missle!”

     One of the tubes atop Dreadstar swiveled towards the siblings.  They tensed, preparing to dodge or die.

     Nothing happened, and the female voice from before announced, “Error: Program does not support current version of Portals.  Portals cannot open launchmissle.exe.”

     “What?!  All right… Mountain Cutting Beam!”

     “Error: Program does not support current version of Portals.  Portal cannot open firebeam.exe.”

     Colin and Rhona stared.

     Excitement turned to frustration in Ming’s voice.  “Is it the upgrade?  Hmm, ah… System Restore?  Let’s try that… must be restarted?”

     There was a brief silence, followed by a whirring sound and a beep.  “System Restore could not restore your settings,” the female voice said.  “Error: Portals cannot open explorer.exe.  You must reinstall Portals.”

     Colin and Rhona continued to stare.

     Ming now stuttered with panic.  “R-reinstall?  Ugh… confusing interface… setup…”

     “Please insert Portals installation disk to begin.”

     “But I threw the disk away… and have no hands…  Retreat!”

     “Error: Program cannot be run in SOS mode.”

     “This can’t be happening,” Ming whispered despondently, and fell silent.

     Rhona looked at Colin and began to laugh.  “Looks like he’s done.  Should we go down there and finish him off with the Banshee Sword?”

     “No need.  With the… disk destroyed, he should be stuck for good, and it’d take forever to carve that thing up with a sword.”  He paused.  “Though, it almost seems too cruel to leave even him trapped forever.  And what if someone figures out how to fix it?”

     “So you agree with me?”

     Colin sighed.  “I suppose.”  And they climbed down to begin the arduous task of dismantling Dreadstar.