Escape

The escape from the camp was nothing more than a whirlwind of snap decisions in a frantic flight from the towering golem. From behind, the creature slung fireballs and unleashed rivers of flame that forced Avii to weave his way through mounds of rubble in an attempt to keep himself and Vivat from becoming like Aindes. Luckily, the power and speed of the Maldainian MULE made it hard for the beast to land a killing blow. Then, rounding a final turn, with mere seconds to spare before the creature caught up, Avii managed to recover Ostave’s unconscious body. Finally, with both survivors in his grasp, he kicked off, making his way to the exit as he looked to put the blood-soaked base behind them once and for all.

Thrown into chaos, the camp was easy enough for the operator to flee. At that moment, the Koviks cared more about holding off the invaders than they did the prisoners caught in the middle of the fight. Even nearing the edge of the camp where gates had been closed to halt the progress of the golems, Avii merely needed to lower a shoulder and charge through the weak defensive line before the wicket door. And while a few fired his way, their weak magic doing little more than scorching the edges of his armour, the majority turned their attention to the golems that had joined the pursuit after him.

Splintering the wood as he burst forth, Avii listened to the screams that followed his wake. He relished the knowledge that he had pulled such a large group of enemies together. That the yells and cries he heard were those of massacred Koviks being dispensed justice for their cruelty. And what made the thoughts sweeter was that he could enjoy them from beyond prison walls.

But, in the end, the problem Avii would face wouldn’t come from escaping the horrid camp. Instead, he would need to find a way to shake the pursuing golems that cleared the boundary walls as though they were nothing. The creatures that continued to pursue him like hungry hounds. The monsters that would stop at nothing to end him.

For two full days the golems remained on Avii’s tail and in that time, he had not stopped running. Pushed beyond what his weak body could manage, his legs moved by the power of the suit alone. Without sleep or water, his body grew ever more fatigued, ready to collapse the moment his MULE did. And, as he glanced down at the red glow of the arcanzcore, he knew it could be any moment.

Shifting his head, Avii looked over his shoulder at the pursuing metalloid monstrosities. In the two days since the chase began, they had fallen enough behind that the magic they possessed could no longer reach Avii. Though this did little to stop them from trying, as, every so often, a flash of light from behind drew his attention to fireballs erupting some hundred or more feet in his wake. But, no matter how hard they pushed, they could not catch the MULE.

As Avii began to look away from the golems, he caught sight of Vivat’s resting face against his shoulder. The MULE, meant for transportation of various cargoes, had always come equipped with a multitude of handlebars and footrests for all situations. More than once a lifetime ago he had given rides to his wife and brother, taking them to town or back from errands. As such, over time Avii had convinced technicians to include magical means to keep objects or people attached for long periods of time. That was why the moment they had cleared enough distance from the golems, Avii switched the healer to his back. There she had been resting comfortably ever since, finally falling asleep with the dim magical glow of telekinesis holding her in place.

Avii felt his heart stop as he stared at her tranquil, resting face. He eyed the bags under her eyes and the sad expression that hung on her cheeks even while she slept. Her youth had been taken from her in the Kovika camp, leaving nothing more than the remains of a woman broken. But even at that, the man still saw a girl in her. A girl not much younger than his daughter would have been had she lived. And though he didn’t know Vivat’s age, he couldn’t imagine her much younger than thirty. An age that would have been within ten years of Jeanine. Merely a child compared to him.

He fought the urge to comfort her. To place a hand to her head and tell her everything would be alright. To give her sympathy akin to what a father would give his daughter.

But then, he felt something shift in his arms.

“Mule?” A voice weakly spoke, drawing Avii’s vision forward.

Held firmly in place against his armour, the body of Ostave had rested in Avii’s arms for the entirety of their two-day escape. Over that time, Vivat had done what she could to heal them both, using her limited magic to first mend the wounds of Avii before moving on to the knight. Though the man had insisted the priestess use her magic on the orc, she protested, prioritizing the healing of the mule’s shattered arms, which made it easier to carry them both. After that, she moved on to the puncture wounds across his body, sealing them up and giving him more stamina to push forward. Only then, after Avii had been properly healed, did she use all her remaining magic for Ostave.

But his wounds were more than she could fix in a single prayer. As such, he had remained unconscious as she healed him, his mutilated body needing time to repair. That was, until that moment.

“Knight,” Avii answered, looking down at the man. “You’re finally awake?”

“Ostave,” Vivat mumbled groggily, shifting against Avii’s back. “Sire?”

“I live?” He groaned, moving his body so that he could look up at the two. “We all live.”

“Yes,” Avii replied simply, his feet continuing forward, following the treeline that marked the eastern edge of the Forest of Bones. “We made it out.”

“And Aindes?”

“Sire…” Vivat whimpered at the mention of his name, her body slinking down Avii’s back.

Avii knew that the priestess struggled with the loss even though she remained quiet. She had struggled with every loss thus far, her kind soul not meant for frontline warfare. So instead of waiting for her to speak up, informing the knight of their latest casualty, the mule did so without question.

“Gone, Sire.”

“I see,” Ostave responded, taking a moment to think as he reached down at the nubs that marked the extent of his regrowing legs. “And…Sebastian?”

“Gone…” Avii replied coldly, taking a moment to think—to remember—the image of the blood filling the grinder and submerging the man. “Sire.”

At the words, Avii felt the knight’s body relax even more into his arms. It was as though the thought of the traitor being finished lifted an immense weight from Ostave’s shoulders. Avii watched as the relief the orc felt washed over his body in the moments before he raised a hand up to touch first at his healed face and regrowing tusk before shifting to look at the mule. With a huff, he adjusted his posture once more, squirming in Avii’s grasp to get a look around his side.

“Sire, please,” Avii asked, doing his best to maintain hold of Ostave and continue at a pace that would keep their distance from the golems. “We’re still being pursued.”

“Koviks?”

“The golems!” Vivat cried out, rejoining the conversation. “Ostave, they’re worse Marx said. Towering monstrosities with terrifying magic.”

Tension rose as Ostave once again became rigid in Avii’s grasp. He felt the man shift, glancing around the side of the mule’s plated arm before settling back into place. The knight thought for a moment, weighing a response before answering.

“The golems?” Ostave questioned, looking between Avii and Vivat. “You mean to say they breached the Kovika line and assaulted the camp?”

“Yes, I saw them coming from fissures underground as we fled. Marx never mentioned fissures. I thought they dropped from the sky?”

“Well, their insertion was always a subject of debate…”

Becoming quiet, Avii listened to the two as they argued over mission details that came along well before he did. Talks about golem attack patterns, infiltration techniques, and even their rate of mobilization. And while he had never heard of the magical machines that now pursued them, it became apparent that Estaria was no stranger to their existence. In fact, the way both Vivat and Ostave spoke on the subject, there was no doubt in Avii’s mind that their quest into Kovika-controlled Maldain was in no small part concerning the magical contraptions.

The longer he listened, the more Avii’s blood began to boil. As a slave, he had been given no right to the information, which he understood. Yet the thought of being on the outside at that moment irked him. He had saved them. He had sacrificed for them. And, as such, there was something that needed to be asked. Something that he deserved to know.

“What are they?” Avii eventually spoke up, interrupting the conversation between the two. “What are these war machines that pursue us, that hunt both sides of your conflict without regard for life?”

Ostave became quiet as he looked up at Avii and, for the first time, the mule could have sworn he saw regret in the man’s eyes.