Chapter 11: That Is A Mecha!

Day bled into night.

Summers in Wyrmrest Hollow were supposed to be balmy, the kind of nights when the air was thick and warm, and the only sound was the hum of cicadas. But ever since the drought began, the nights had grown unnervingly sharp and cold even in the summer, as though the land itself was withering.

Four nights after everyone saw Aina going insane at Old Man Jine’s home, she now sat at the table in the yard of her home, working on a piece of wood. A shard of stone served as her knife, shaving curls of wood from the length she cradled in her hands. Beside her, her son Tallo and daughter Vila kept a watchful eye. Ever since she lost herself to madness several days ago, her children had not allowed her to stay alone, convinced she might try again to leave them forever.

Aina herself didn’t really understand what happened. She could only guess that the madness wasn’t hers, but something that belonged to the woman whose body she now inhabited. Rinia. The rope marks still scored her neck, evidence that Rinia’s death was not accidental but she had instead hung herself in the house. No wonder her throat felt like sand when she crawled out of her grave.

Since then, there was always someone staying by her side. Rhielle in the mornings, Tallo and Vila in the afternoons, and the elder boys whenever they returned from foraging. At first Aina thought the constant supervision would suffocate her, but to her surprise, it felt strangely comforting. She didn’t need to be afraid of losing herself again. Having someone nearby at all times allowed her to work without fear of losing control, and to fall into the rhythm of creation with her whole being. This was what she was good at.

Cooking? Impossible. She didn’t recognize the ingredients of this world. Foraging? A disaster. She couldn’t tell poison from medicine. Even hauling water left her weak and exhausted, thanks to the missing flesh in her thigh. But building something, that was her forte. Tools, contraptions, small machines that no one else could understand, those poured from her fingers as naturally as breathing. She didn’t even need sketches or design schematics. Her mind designed the blueprints and changed them as she saw fit.

Tonight, with Tallo and Vila watching, she assembled a hunting tool. Her fingers moved with careful precision, fitting the last pulley into place, every piece carved on the lathe she had already built. Tallo leaned closer, his eyes wide with interest. He didn’t recognize the strange contraption forming before him but he was excited to see the finished product.

Anyone from her world would have probably seen one, and could tell what it was from just a glance. A bow fixed to a stock. A wooden rail running its length. A pulley at the end to help draw the string of the bow all the way back to the nut that caught and held the string. To anyone who knew what it was, they would know that she had just made a crossbow.

Aina lifted it in both hands, testing the weight. It was heavy, too heavy for her thin arms to hold steady for long. Yet this was actually already lighter than yesterday. She had tried shooting the crossbow with the bolts that her son Varn made the day before, but found that the crossbow was too heavy and she could only hold it level for a few minutes at a time.

But the balance was what really mattered. Modern crossbows had sights that added weight in the end, but Aina didn’t have access to glass so the ‘sights’ were just a piece of wood with hash marks for estimating distance, so its rear part wasn’t as heavy as she wanted. She needed to ensure that the back part was heavier than the front part, without reducing durability.

Being a robotics engineer, she knew the importance of balancing and determining where the balance point should be. For something that you would hold horizontally, the balancing point should be closest to your hand, otherwise, it would be tiring to hold it for long periods of time. So every time she shaved slivers from the stock, she would balance the crossbow on her fingers near the trigger part, then shaved more, until the weapon rested almost perfectly level on her finger near the trigger.

“What are you making, Mother?” Tallo asked, his little voice brimming with curiosity.

Unlike his other siblings, Tallo was very curious and loved to watch his mother work. He felt her handiwork was mesmerizing and profound, and the results were nothing that he could imagine or anticipate. Tallo had wondered many times, from the time his mother made the woodturning lathe, to the scooter, to the lacquerware and now to the thing in front of him, why for the seven years of his life his mother never made anything like it.

“This,” Aina said, smiling faintly, “is a hunting tool called a crossbow. Like a bow, but easier to use. Even your sister-in-law could fire it.”

“Can I try too?” Tallo’s eyes lit up.

Aina scratched her temple with a dry smile, “Technically yes… but no, you’re too young. Wait until you’re at least your brother Varn’s age.”

“Awww…” Tallo deflated in disappointment.

The gate creaked and the older boys entered, carrying their meager forage. “We’re back,” Irek called. The sun had already slipped behind the western hills, the yard only lit by the torch Tallo had dutifully set alight. Aina was startled to see that she had been working in such low light conditions, that she wondered if she had developed night vision. Meanwhile, Vila had dozed off on the table, her cheek against her arm

“Look at this girl,” Irek muttered, nudging her. “I asked her to watch mother, and she fell asleep.”

“It’s fine, husband” Rhielle said, brushing dirt from her skirt. “Tallo’s been watching.”

The boy puffed up and threw his fists up in a guts pose. “Un! I watched Mother work the whole time!”

Aina chuckled but turned alarmed when suddenly the earth lurched beneath their feet. The ground beneath them suddenly shook, throwing Rhielle to the ground. Irek caught her, then nearly lost his own footing as the ground heaved again.

“Earthquake?” Aina asked, but no one answered.

Something big and heavy fell and with a deafening crash, their house caved in before their eyes.

“My fucking house!” Aina shrieked. Dust and grit rolled over them in a choking wave. From within the haze came another sound, the sound of metal striking metal in booming, echoing blows.

Then the house next door too collapsed. More wave of dust washed over them. More choking coughs were heard. Luckily, the people who lived next door had all deserted the village.

Then Aina heard it. Oh, she knew that sound very well. The high-pitched whine of servos, the hiss and thump of hydraulic pistons, the heavy stomp of mechanical feet. Her blood boiled, thrilled at knowing that something she had yearned for was right in front of her.

Aina wanted to take a look, to make sure she wasn’t just imagining it. The sound of metal striking metal told the part of a tale she had only read in mangas and watched in anime. But there was too much dust for her to see anything. The dark moonless night wasn’t helping matters.

“Cover your mouths!” she barked, muffling her own nose and mouth with her sleeve. Herding her children, she shoved them toward the road, stumbling through the smoke and dust. They were barely out of the yard when another massive weight crashed down where they had been standing.

Aina caught sight of the wreckage and screamed. “My fucking scooter!”

The vehicle she had built, piece by piece, in stolen hours in the darkness of night. Her pride and joy flattened in an instant. Anger seared her chest hotter than the loss of her home. The home could be rebuilt, but that scooter was like her child!

“That’s it!” she roared, sleeves shoved up to her shoulders. “You want a fight? Come on. Let’s take this outside, damn you!”

Her children stared, horrified, while the metallic din grew louder, closer.

“Mother, let's run!” Irek shouted, his voice breaking in between coughs. “That’s a mountain beast!”

“No,” Aina whispered, her voice audible only to herself. Her eyes went wide, her heart hammering with wild excitement as the shadows in the dust loomed tall and hulking.

She knew those sounds. She knew that silhuette. She knew that presence.

“That,” she said, her voice trembling with equal parts excitement and anger, “is a mecha.”