Journey Into The Forbidden West Part 3

September 23th, 3040

The Sun had dipped below the far mountain ranges in the west, making for a hazy twilight when Karhn brought Varl, Furahni and their Striders down, finally reuniting the party. In the growing dark, the blue lights of machines began to stand out in the shade, underscoring the urgency of getting to somewhere either defensible, or behind a wall and a gate. Once they were off loaded, the man made a weary gesture of parting and began to slowly crank his way back up to the top of the ridge. Once the group was assembled, and mounted once more, Travis turned to Furahni and asked, “What can we expect at this Chainscrape?”

The woman's face grimaced. “I'm not an expert in these matters west, but I do know of Chainscrape and Barren Light beyond it,” she assured him. “Chainscrape is the newer of the two; built long after the Red Raids. It serves as a mining town and intermediate settlement for the Oseram workers and quarry-men who are rebuilding Barren Light.”

“Rebuilding?” asked Doc.

The Carja hunter nodded at the Ancient Medic. “Yes. Barren Light was captured and destroyed in the Red Raids. It was a prison and staging area for captives taken in the Forbidden West on their way to the Sun Ring.”

“And sacrifice,” growled Olara.

“It was an evil time,” Frahni agreed. “The Tenakth hated it with good reason. Barren Light was heavily damaged by the Tenakth who wanted to raze it to the ground, but didn't have the means to do so. Nor the skill the hold what was left when the Carja army pushed them back into their own lands.”

Buck laughed without mirth. “There's a moral in here somewhere with all this land changing hands back and forth.

“Be that as it may,” Murray interjected. “What about Chainscrape?”

The Carja Huntress shrugged. “It's a mining town. There's a Carja Magistrate, but it's predominately Oseram in character. There'll be at least a few Oseram men calling themselves 'Ealdormen' which is an Oseram rank of standing within the clans of their tribe. How much real authority they have will depend on the Magistrate. There is an inn of fairly large size to accommodate newcomers intent on working the Daunt, and since there are Oseram, there will be a brewery. Beyond that? Anyone's guess.”

Travis nudged Black Jack to the head of the little column, making a point to look each of his party in the eye as he did so. “Well, it's getting dark, so let's be about this. I make it half a mile down this track to Chainscrape, but with this lush vegetation, there will be plenty of ambush spots for machines, or bandits, so keep your eyes open. If we're engaged, Varl, Buck and I will counter ambush. Nakoa will lead Olara, Doc, and Furahni ahead to stage as a reaction force in case there are more than we can handle.” He turned to his wife, over the complaint of the Carja Huntress who held her tongue at a soft gesture from Varl. “Nakoa, I'll leave that counter attack, if any, to your discretion.”

“As you say, husband,” she replied tersely. “Even if we are at least the warriors you three are.”

“Call it Ancient Chivalry,” Buck told her with a grin. “The damsels in distress can come save the knights in shining AR15s.”

“What is a Knight?” demanded Furahni, but Olara only shook her head and rolled her eyes as she made a dismissive gesture.

“My man is being a man,” she confided the Carja woman. “Pay him no mind.”

That settled, the Striders trotted down the track at a spirited pace. The dark only gathered closer, lit by the blue LEDs that surrounded the camera 'eyes' of the Striders. The trail dipped further down into the valley, away from the high cliffs of the surrounding mountains, until only the blue light of Black Jack and Snow Flake lit the way forward and beyond it the golden hue of fires from Chainscrape. The valley held the little stream through it's center and it widened a bit into a mill pond around the wooden palisades of Chainscrape to protect the town itself, and a water wheel that was powering something, possibly a mill, inside the town.

As they rounded the last bend and the last few hundred feet between the gates and the travelers, Buck's basso voice called out, “Contact left! Eleven O'clock!”

Travis' eyes jerked into the direction finding a pair of men, leaning heavily on each other as if wounded. They were fording the stream, to get to the town, but between it and them, staring them down were a pair of Watcher type machines. The machines were the size of a big dog, with snake like bodies held up by a pair of legs in the middle with a long tail to keep their balance. The lights around their single head/eye were bright red, indicating the watchers saw the two humans and were preparing to attack. There were calls of alarm and arrows from the walled encampment, but the machines meant to have the two.

Without a second of hesitation, Travis, and Buck had their ARs up and roaring. Furahni and Varl cried out in surprise, covering their ears, but the Striders took no notice of the rifles. Their rounds slammed into the Watchers, jerking them sideways into the stream. Immediately both machines shorted out in a shower of sparks and explosions. “Nakoa, get everyone to Chainscrape, Buck with me!”

“Follow!” Nakoa spat, urging Snow Flake up to a gallop leading the larger of the group to the Oseram palisade while Travis and Buck rode to the two men. Their uniforms were blood soaked, but still legible as the orange and white striped linen and leather of the Vanguards, the personal soldiers of the Sun King. As the two pulled up, the more wounded of the two, holding his side looked up and started.

“I know you!” he declared to Travis. “Colonel Murray, right?” The speaker was a rugged man stepping between his youth and his prime. His florid complexion had bruises showing through the tunic where there wasn't blood, though his brown Mohawk haircut was still suitably upright. He wore mutton chop whiskers down both sides of his face, but shaved his chin which showed his teeth clinched in real pain.

“How are you, Captain Erend?”

The Oseram mercenary winced while Travis slid off his Strider, into the stream to help him. “Been better,” Erend grunted. “Two ribs busted, I think. That miracle worker Tracy still with you?”

“We'll get you fixed up,” Travis assured him as he took Erends weight from his companion, who Buck was already helping. “Think you can ride on the back of a Strider?”

Erend eyed Black Jack warily as the machine's gaze turned to him. “Think I'd rather walk if it's all the same?”

Murray only chuckled and turned their steps towards the gate. “Your call. Black Jack, follow.” With much splashing and cursing the men arrived at the town's gate, finding it barred before them with Nakoa and the rest of the party fuming on their Striders. Erend went to bang on the gate, but Travis discouraged him. “Buck? Would you mind?”

The big man chuckled and struck his fist three times on the timbers that had them booming. “Open up!” he shouted.

“Who's there?” demanded a somewhat frail sounding voice from the other side.

Erend stood up a bit straighter against Travis so that he could painfully shout, “Erend Vanguardsman! Captain of the Kings Own Vanguard! Open in the name of the Sun King!” There was a moment of muffled conversation, likely one concerning the consequences for disobeying the order. Then the sounds of wood scraping over metal as the gate was unbarred and swung open. In the firelight were a handful of other soldiers who immediately trotted forward to take up Erend and the other man with him. Behind these was a thinner, almost slight man with five o'clock shadow in a tanned complexion and a silk Carja suit that must have been magnificent when he put it on, but was now quite wrinkled and frumpy Over this was scarlet cape with machine parts sewn into as if it was some kind of badge of office and a matching hat that vaguely resembled a baker's cap with metal plates forming an arched ridge, rather like a house, with cords draped under it in a manner that put Travis in mind of patriotic bunting for a Fourth Of July party.

The man started at the machines standing docilely behind even rougher looking strangers and stammered, “Wh...what's the meaning of this? Who are you people?”

“They're the people who saved the Captain of the Vanguard, Javad!” Erend snapped, while actively resisting being 'helped' by his other men. The red cloaked man, Javad, evidently, made a gesture of concession as Erend waved his hand between the groups. “Javad, this is Colonel Travis Murray, who in addition to being a living Ancient, led the defense of the Palace of the Sun King himself during the Battle of the Alight. Colonel Murray, this is Javad the Willing, Magistrate of the Daunt.”

The man blinked, then rushed forward to present his hand, which Travis took. “An honor to hostel one of the Heroes of the Battle of the Alight,” he declared quickly. “AND an Ancient? Truly? Come in, please, ah, Colonel, was it? Are...are those machines under your control?”

“They are, Magistrate. If there's some place we can corral them, that would be excellent. They won't bother anyone if they aren't bothered.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Doc, you take the wounded up to the tavern there, see about treating Erend and his partner. I'll be along presently to settle for our stay.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Javad interjected as forcefully as a man in his position could. “You and your party are guests of the Sun King! I will see to it once, ah, your...machines are taken care of. This way, please, Colonel.”

“That's very generous of you, Magistrate,” Travis assured him. The Colonel and his party relieved their mounts of their saddlebags, most following Tracy up the hill whose Focus was already pulling diagnostic images from Erend and his man. Nakoa fell in step with Travis as he was leading Black Jack who in turn was leading the Striders.

“We're going to have a discussion you won't enjoy,” she warned her husband.

“I know,” Travis replied as the Magistrate led them to an enclosure that looked like a horse corral at first glance, but was lined with people who were cheering on some kind of scuffle within the ring. “What's this?”

Nakoa sniffed in appreciation before wiping her nose with the back of her arm. “A fighting ring. It has more rules than a bar room brawl, so fits of temper can be culled without having to dig a grave after. Or fill up a jail with drunkards instead of true criminals awaiting their sentence.”

“Odurg, if you would?” declared Javad, probably in the most commanding way he was capable of. Odurg, a large man covered in Oseram type armor of rings of various diameter sewn into leather from his head to his feet, nodded and slid off the split rail fence that defined the circle. There was nothing showy about this gear, unlike the Carja armor built into their uniforms, this was the fighting gear of a man who lived his life in combat. What little skin that could be seen through it was a chocolate brown.

“Hold!” he shouted in a voice used to shouting. One of the combatants took advantage of the confusion to land an extra hit, drawing the Pit Master's ire. “I said, 'hold!' scorch it!” he bellowed again, knocking the over eager combatant to the ground with a tremendous back hand.

“What? What did we do?” the other asked in confusion, but Odurg only waived at the Magistrate in answer. Odurg effortlessly picked up the man he'd knocked to the ground and shoved both towards the railed fence behind them.

Javad let himself into the center of the ring and began to slowly rotate in place as he spoke. “Gentles! Subjects of the Sun King! It is with regret that I must declare this fighting ring closed for the night.” Boos and catcalls immediately rose in the air, but Odurg crossed his thick arms across his thicker chest and they fell quiet again. “We have guests of the Sun King! Heroes of the Realm! And they require the use of this ring to hold the Striders they ride. As such, and as they can be dangerous, no one, save the members of this party should enter the ring with the Striders. Those who scoff at this warning, their blood is on them. So declares the Sun!”

With that, the crowd realized the spectacle was finished for the night and began to drift up hill towards the tavern. Black Jack led the Striders into the enclosure, then his lit 'face' turned to Travis for instruction. Travis turned to Javad who asked, “Do...do they require anything else?”

“Water, if it's convenient and if you have some pig slop that would be helpful,” Travis told him.

“Pig slop?” demanded Odurg, as he removed his helmet and held it against his side. “What for? What do machines 'eat' anyways?”

“Strictly speaking, they don't eat,” Travis informed him. “The slop and water is processed into what you call Blaze. It's stored in these canisters on their back hips, here. The Blaze is what they run on.”

“Well, why didn't you ask for that?” Odurg demanded. “Blaze I have.” He walked over to a barrel and removed the lid. “Here, they can drink their fill.”

“Thank you,” Murray assured him, then turned back to Black Jack. “Have each of the herd drink to full in turn, then go into stand by. Do not leave this ring without an authorized user leading you. Defend yourselves if needed.” Black Jack tossed his head in an exaggerated nod, then ambled over to the barrel as the other Striders made a line behind him, where he drank in the Blaze.

“The things you live to see,” Javad whispered.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Travis corrected him.

In the Tavern, Tracy's Focus had already revealed Erend's ribs were only cracked, not broken and she'd wrapped his chest in a nanite infused smart cast that would allow him to move gently, but go rigid if he attempted a movement that might compound the injury. The Innkeeper and Javad had a conversation, that led to the somewhat rotund Keeper to begin to ladle a thick, meaty looking stew into bowls while his daughters drew beer into wooden tankards and his wife began to slice a still steaming loaf of bread for the group. Travis and Nakoa where given their portions, then with a meaningful glance, Nakoa led the way to a quiet corner in the back of the eating area. “We're fighting publicly?” he asked jocularly, only to get a dirty look from her as she sat down.

“We're only fighting if you make it one, Husband,” she informed him quietly. “I have grievance and you well know it.”

Murray put his stew, beer and bread on the table, then his AR15 from across his shoulders that was propped into the corner behind him, after he checked again it was on safe. “Grievance?” he asked softly as he sat down. “Is protection of the love of my life a grievance?”

She sighed with somewhat exaggerated force through her nose and took a drink of her beer to get herself calm. “Grievance may be a strong word,” she conceded, after. “Are we not partners? Why do you insist on being overly cautious with me?”

Murray took a bite of the stew and, finding it a bit bland, removed a salt shaker from his mess kit pouch, and added a judicious amount. “Yes,” he admitted after a second bite was to his liking. “We are partners, though I would not say I am being overly cautious. You are pregnant, this is my first child, and I am already worried about you. Now I worry about both of you.”

“I am pregnant, not ill,” she declared firmly. “I am a Nora Brave, and I'm not even showing yet. Doc tells me there were many women from your time who would be pregnant longer than I am now and not know it. They lived their lives and went about their work without being carried about on a litter!”

“I'm not...”

Her amber eyes came up from the stew, hard and resolute. “I will not be coddled, husband,” she declared flatly. “I will pull my weight in this party. I know my limits, and I am never unaware of our child in my belly. Is any of what I ask unfair?”

“Do you truly resent me for wanting to protect you?”

Her spoon went into the stew with a wet plop! Her face softened, and she reached across the little table to squeeze his hand. “No. I love you because you make me of higher perseverance than your own safety. I love you because you did not hesitate to come to my side the day we met. But for that, you must give me my own say in my life, even as I share it with you, and allow me to do what I am good at!” Her eyes went coy. “Outside of our bed as well as in.”

He smirked at her. “Letting you do what you're good at in our bed is how we got into this argument.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“By the forge!” interjected a new, gravelly voice in genuine pleasure. “Is my luck changing? You come to trade him, Nora girl?” Both Travis and Nakoa's eyes were drawn deeper into the tavern to take in an approaching Oseram woman. She was a zaftig lass, bound in leather and metal that accentuated that she still had a figure, however full it was. On her head was a brown rag doing it's best to contain her black hair, but it was peeking through in errand locks around her head. She wore a linen tank top for lack of a better description under a leather corset that was festooned with metal rings and studs like some kind of cross between the Renaissance and Mad Max. There was a grin on her round face, despite the attire, as she ambled over, a tankard in one hand and her ample breasts desperately trying to escape the corset she was wearing.

“Petra!” the two exclaimed, then Travis continued, “What are you doing here?”

She pulled a chair from another table and sat herself down to make room for herself and the small table Nakoa and Travis were using. “Damn brewery is the only thing you can count on in this place!” she declared with a grin. “Well, after the battle of Meridian, I went back to Free Heap, but realized it was running smooth; didn't need me. I heard about the rebuilding at Barren Light, figured they could use another hammer and here I am! Been scraping by ever since.”

Nakoa leaned in towards the other woman. “Just to be clear, I'm not here to trade my husband.” She paused and shot Travis and gimlet glance. “Even if I'm given thought of it now and again.”

“Hey now...!”

Petra waved off Travis' objection. “Oh that's just Marital Malfunctions! They'll pass, big man!” There was an up swell of the conversation across the bar that was between Javad and other, bigger man, dressed in the Oseram fashion. Petra nodded towards it. “But then, Chainscrape has always been a few tools short of a kit. And right there? That's the biggest the biggest tool of all!”

“Not our land! Not our problem!” the big man declared, jabbing a finger into the Carja Magistrate's chest.

“The Bristlebacks are everyone's problem, Ulvund!” the Magistrate countered hotly. Petra turned back to her table mates and winked.

“He's a story best told over a cold beer! And, lucky for us, we have them!”

Nakoa bent around so she could see the argument, then turned back to Petra. “So, what is his story?”

“It's a long one,” Petra replied. “Let me see if I can mill it down to table size. From what the old timers tell me, Ulvund got here early; even before the Brewery was done! No one knows where he got the shards, but he started buying into every claim worth something. One day the Bristlebacks come rampaging through the valley, like they were blasted out of a forge.” She became maudlin for a moment. “We lost some good people.” She sniffed and turned the maudlin into disgust. “Still, Ulvund was never one to pass up turning a screw to his own enrichment, so he starts spreading that the Carja are responsible for them.”

“How are the Carja to blame?” demanded Travis.

Petra gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, they're not. Nobody knows how the Bristlebacks got into the Daunt. There's only two ways in or out; the Chain Lift or through the gates of Barren Light, and the Carja control both. No way they're letting machine's that big in. But, if Ulvund can make people think the Carja are at fault, he can gin up all kinds annoyances. Labor disputes, work stoppages, all leverage to get Javad to sign his concession decree.”

“His what?” asked Nakoa around a mouthful of beer.

Petra smirked and winked at her. “That's the key to everything. This is Carja land, even though we Oseram outnumber them twenty to one, the Sun King can revoke our mining and timber claims on a whim. Avad doesn't seem to be the type to play dirty with the claims, he's too interested in peace and making up for his father and the Red Raids. But he could. And that freezes up the bank roll back in the Claim to put real money into these operations in the Daunt. A concession, on the other hand, would make Oseram law the defining factor. Everybody in The Claim would be falling over themselves to invest here and Ulvund has stakes in everything. More than enough shards to buy himself the title of Ealdorman!”

Travis cleared his mouth and asked, “There aren't Ealdormen already here?”

“Oh they've come and gone,” Petra assured him. “They get here, see the value, but Ulvund got here first. He's got a claim stake in every operation that will make money, and enough of a stake that the late comers realize it's all just a prettied up scam. They move on looking for greener pastures.”

“Oh,” remarked Travis as he lifted his tankard, “The new world is just like the old. How refreshing.” He would have said more, but Erend came over, using his massive, double handed hammer as a crutch.

“Eh, excuse me, Colonel, can I have a word?”

Petra looked up at the Vanguard and evidently liked what she saw. “You can have more than one with me, Vanguard!” she declared saucily, but stood and gave up her chair. “Come see me when you're done.”

“Oh I will...” he started, then winced in pain as he sat down. “Maybe just a little later.” Petra winked at him and wandered off as Erend slowly turned in the chair to better face Travis and Nakoa. “I, I want to thank you, again, Colonel. For the timely arrival and Tracy's skill. She did me a solid.”

“Any time, Captain,” Travis assured him.

He winced again and laid his tankard on the table. “Uh, I also have a request from Javad the Willing...”

“Here it comes,” muttered Nakoa darkly.

“No, it's my fault,” Erend affirmed quickly. “I was boasting a little loud, about how Tracy patched me up, and Javad overheard. Ran my yap out of turn, about how magical Tracy's skill was and how her Focus could see right into me to fix me up. Javad then wanted to know what else it could see and...”

“And now Javad wants us to look into how the Bristlebacks got into the Daunt so he could get some leverage against Ulvund, right?”

“Er, well, yeah.” The mercenary frowned in confusion. “How do you know about Ulvund?”

“Word of mouth,” Travis intimated. “What's the status of the Embassy?”

“Oh, well, no worries there,” Erend assured him. “I'm the head of the escort conducting 'Studious' Vuadis,” and he indicated a larger, older man in the red robes and hood of a Carja Sun Priest across the tavern from them, “to Barren Light. We're pretty much stuck here until the Bristlebacks are taken care of. No Vuadis, no Embassy.”

Travis looked at his wife who sighed and nodded. “Alright Erend, you can tell Javad I'm willing. Nakoa and I will look into it at first light.”

Later, in their room, Nakoa squatted in Travis' lap, his head in her hands and their eyes locked as she showed her skill and love of her husband. Travis caressed her back as he held her and kept her balance as she slowly rose and fell in his lap and considered himself the luckiest man alive.

September 24th, 3040

Travis had always been an early riser, and now that the entire world was measuring time with events rather than clocks, he found that being out in the world far more to his liking than being back at Fort Carson. He'd arisen just as the dawn was about to brighten the horizon over the Sundom and dressed, gently waking Nakoa when he'd done so. “The sun up already?” she asked sleepily as she sat up in the bed, as he opened the shutters over their window to catch what few rays of light were beginning to bloom in the east.

“Almost,” he told her with a smile as he started prepping his gear for the day. From the pouch of loose, extra rounds in his saddle bag, he topped off the magazine of the rounds he'd fired saving Erend the day before. “I thought you'd like to beat the crowd for breakfast and get an early start.”

She sat up in the bed and stretched, magnificently nude and drawing his gaze. “I preferred the early ending of last night, but work before pleasure.”

“We're going to have a large family, I see,” he chuckled as he watched her fish for her traveling clothes and the armored clothing King Avad had given her before the Battle of the Alight. Some part of Travis resisted calling the leather and metal crop top and bolero style jacket 'armor' but she had explained to him more than once her style of fighting emphasized movement over protection. Leaving her stomach bare let her move more freely while still protecting her limbs and torso.

It was sexy as hell, but he wasn't sure it stood up to being called 'armor'.

Still, both dressed and ready, the pair descended into the tavern to find the innkeeper and his wife and daughters busily baking bread while his two sons were struggling with replacing the massive barrel of ale for the coming day. The couple settled on the bar near where the innkeeper was getting the fire under his grill to his satisfaction. “Good morning, innkeeper,” Nakoa greeted him and he looked up with a smile from his task.

“Well met, heroes of the Alight!”

Travis chuckled and waved off the accolades. “Please, nothing so grandiose. I'm Travis Murray, and this is my wife, Nakoa.”

“Milduf Boarbroiler,” he proclaimed as he got back to his feet and took a basket full of eggs from one of his daughters as she passed. “I'll have eggs, however you like, with fresh bread and bacon. Ale?”

“Hot water,” the couple replied in unison as they fetched the coffee and sugar ration from their kits. “Too early for beer for me,” Travis added. Milduf shrugged and filled a large pot to put on one corner of his griddle.

“I'll have it for you shortly. Eggs? Bacon?”

“Yes, please,” Travis assured him. “We both liked scrambled and I prefer my bacon soft, rather than crisp.”

“Certainly,” the Innkeeper declared, cracking six eggs into a clay bowl to beat into a slurry. Once that was to his liking, he began to grind herbs and other plants into it. “Magistrate Javad tells me you are of the AmSci tribe? A tribe of Ancients somehow still alive?”

Murray chuckled as he spooned coffee powder into his canteen cup. “Yes, it's true, we...slept is the best way to describe it. From the old time to now.”

Milduf poured the slurry onto his griddle that sizzled nicely as he folded the eggs onto themselves, then quickly added several strips of bacon, fresh cut from a pig belly a young man was still butchering. The smell was incredible, even over the faint wiff of stale beer that every bar or tavern seemed to have. “I can't imagine such a thing,” Milduf opined as he expertly managed the eggs and bacon. The water just shy of boiling, he brought the pot over and filled their canteen cups, starting a bit from the black liquid that arose. “What...?”

“It's called coffee,” Nakoa told him with a grin. “The AmSci will make a kings ransom on it once the bushes mature.”

“Really? Astounding. And what an odd aroma.” He put the pot aside and began to dish up the breakfast to his only customers so far that morning. “What else for you?” he asked with a smile.

“Information, if you know it,” Nakoa countered. “The Bristlebacks? Where were they first seen?”

“Oh, that's easy,” he said. “They came down the hills by the quarry. It's between us and Barren Light, you can't miss it. Out the west gate and straight on and you'll come to it. Or, what's left of it. The Bristlebacks were incensed when they attacked, killed or destroyed everything and everyone.”

“So they're a Hunter Killer machine? Like the Thunderjaw?” Nakoa asked, but the Innkeeper shook his head.

“No, that's what so odd. They're Transport machines. Have a huge cargo pod in their belly. I remember seeing caravans of them in The Claim, as a young man. Taking who knows what into the Cauldrons up there. Generally, if you give them a wide berth, they ignore you. These? They're angry.”

Nakoa exchanged a significant glance with her husband and both tucked into their breakfast, which surprised them both with the expert seasonings. They figured they would need the fuel for their day.

Black Jack and Snow Flake were both at full charge when retrieved from the fighting ring/corral, letting them trot out the West Gate of Chainscrape to the gaze of over awed guards that gave the Machine Riders a wide berth. From there, it was a cool ride down the valley with the sun just peaking over the mountains behind them as they did, painting everything in a ruddy gold of light and shadow.

Milduf had been correct to note the quarry could not be missed, it was a deep gouge of red sandstone the size of a stadium cut into the north face of the valley. There had been a rail track to move the blocks down to the river and, likely, thence to Barren Light, but it was mostly wreckage now. In fact, all of the quarry works and cranes had sustained major damage, though there was ample evidence of repairs being in progress. One of the machines had been felled at the edge of the quarry which the two angled over to inspect. It was a massive thing, even twisted in wreckage, perhaps half again the size of a bison and shaped somewhat like a boar or wild hog. In it's 'stomach' was a round transport container that had been pried open and was empty. “What a monster,” Travis muttered as he keyed on his Focus to scan the wreckage to get a better understanding of it.

Nakoa slid off Snow Flake and walked over to it, though she was taking more of an interest in the upturned earth. “There was a herd of them,” she declared from her musing. “A dozen at least.” She pointed up the slope, to the east side of the quarry. “They came from up there.”

Travis turned and judged the terrain, not liking what he saw. “How did something that big get up there?”

The Nora shrugged her ignorance. “That I don't know, only that they came down from there. Shall we investigate?”

“Makes sense to me,” he muttered while she remounted Snow Flake. Following Black Jack up the mountain, the trail, mostly the destroyed track of a stampede, highlighted the Strider's agility as they picked their way up, having to resort to switching back several times before they found the mouth of a cave with destroyed timbers and equipment scattered as the machines must have burst forth. “What is this?”

The two humans dismounted their mechanical horses and poked around the debris at the mouth of the cave. “Looks like a mine,” Nakoa opined from the broken boxes and barrels. “There's no arguing the Bristlebacks came out of here.”

“Why would they be under ground?” Travis puzzled, mostly to himself. “Is there a Cauldron around these mountains?”

“I had a conversation with Blameless Marad before we left Meridan,” she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “For all the known Cauldrons out this way. You mentioned there may be more ammunition in them, so I thought we should plan ahead for resupply.”

Murray reached down to pick up his wife by her leather clad buttocks and kissed her. “God, you're sexy, and smart.”

She smirked at him and rubbed her hands through his short hair. “I knew I picked the right man with you!” she giggled and allowed him to set her down. “But, he told me the closest Cauldron is miles from here, past No Man's Land to the west and south of the Utaru main city of Plainsong. The map he showed me has nothing about Cauldrons to the North of The Daunt.”

He took a flash light off his belt and shined the beam into the opening of the mine. “I don't like the looks of this place, but if it was steady enough for the Bristlebacks to come out...”

“Is no indication it's safe for us to go in,” she finished, giving him the gimlet eye. He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Are you saying I should protect my wife and have her wait outside?”

She took a flashlight from her own belt and stabbed his chest with a finger as she passed him, going into the cave. “You'll pay for that,” she warned him. He chuckled as he followed her into the mine, trying to look everywhere at once for danger. The initial bore went straight for about a hundred yards, then a new shaft broke out to the left and west. “This is where they came from,” Nakoa declared, shining her flashlight down the other tunnel. “And these diggings are new.”

Travis' light found a side tunnel, a bit further down the main track, that had been walled up with timber to make a little office. “Look at this,” he called her as he went over and tried the door, finding it open. It was obvious the main office for the mine, there was a desk covered in papers and receipts, a board of keys on the wall and a box of candles. He keyed on his Focus to translate the various papers and read, “The Crimson Deeps Mine,” he declared then rolled his eyes. “Three guesses who the principal owner is?”

“I only need one,” she replied mirthlessly. “What the fuck?” It was her favorite curse that she'd picked up from the Ancients, though she still used it sparingly. She held up a receipt that Travis's Focus refused to translate.

“I can't read that,” he informed her.

“These are Oseram gliphs. It's a bill of lading from The Claim stating a complete train of Blaze was delivered here!”

Travis frowned as he picked up a second paper which was in Carja that the Focus could read. “How much is that?”

“A wagon is six barrels of Blaze, it's ten wagons to the train.”

Murray held up his paper. “What would a mine that's been condemned as unsafe need that much explosives for?” She took his paper, along with the bill of lading and carefully folded them away into a pouch on her belt.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she informed him as they went out of the office and a short way down the most recent tunnel. They could only go a short way as there had been a cave in that destroyed a Bristleback that was partially entombed under the cave in.

Travis tapped his Focus to take a hologram of the destroyed machine and tunnel, chuckling to himself. “Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do...”

“Who's Lucy?” his wife demanded. He bent down and kissed her cheek.

“A comedienne who's been dead for over a thousand years.” He smiled at her. “Let's go show all this to Javad and see what he thinks of it.”

With a few minutes ride, the bit coming back down the mountain being the most thrilling of it, Travis and Nakoa returned to Chainscrape. The town was definitely up and about now with the morning half gone, though activity still came to a stop as the pair and their Striders ambled up the hard packed earthen streets. An inquiry with the guards by the gate informed them Magistrate Javad kept what office he claimed on a table in the tavern. Not bothering to return the Striders to the make shift corral, they tied them to a beam of the tavern and immediately went inside. The interior of the tavern was considerably dimmer and it took them a moment to have their eyes adjust and find the slight administrator sitting at a table with a number of scrolls and an inkwell in a corner of the tavern. He looked up in surprise at their arrival, smiling in greeting. “My friends! What news do you bring?”

Nakoa removed the papers from the pouch on her belt and presented them. “I tracked the Bristlebacks up the valley to a mine at the back. They stampeded out of it.”

Javad's face gave away his confusion. “The mine?” he asked in a puzzled tone of voice. “How could a herd of Bristlebacks come from there?”

“That, we don't know,” Travis informed him. “But, look here. A massive amount of Blaze was delivered to the mine just a short while ago. And we found a destroyed Bristleback inside the mine, that had been caught in a cave in.”

“The tunnel was blocked, so we couldn't go further,” Nakoa added.

The Magistrate became angry. “For the love of dawn, I told him that mine wasn't worth the risk! That's why it was condemned! Those tunnels run for miles, under ground. Even beyond the Daunt.” He trailed off and became thoughtful. “Now, you don't think...?”

“That Ulvend's blasting opened up a passage to the other side?” Nakoa demanded, planting her fists on her hips. “That's exactly what I think.”

The Carja Magistrate whispered, almost to himself. “Perhaps...yes, perhaps...” His dark eyes came back up the Ancient and the Nora standing before him. “If this is true...we need confirmation. An inquiry, so through, so irrefutable...”

“The papers aren't damning enough?” Travis demanded.

“Circumstantially?” Javad replied. “They are incriminating, but Ulvand's friends and allies are many. I'd need something iron clad.”

Travis crossed his arms over his chest. “Like the opening on the other side?”

“It's a start!” Javad returned with a smile.

“Well, the cave in won't allow that,” Nakoa assured him. “And we can't go around the mountain until the Embassy.”

“Then you're in luck!” Javad told her, his grin widening. “Errand felt well enough to travel this morning and left with Studious Vuadis and the rest of his party a few hours ago. They must be in Barren Light by now.”

Travis shared a glance with his wife who nodded. “I'll go get the others,” she declared, departing towards the Inn's rooms at a trot.

In short order, the little band of Ancients were cantering down the road towards Barren Light. It was discovered that Varl had departed with Errand and his group, evidently eager to catch up with Aloy. The sun was approaching it's zenith when the ruined fortress of Barren Light came into view. What remained of the stone building was scorched by a fire that had been set some years ago. The outer wall had once stood astride the river connecting both sides of the narrow valley, but the arch over the river and the stone works on the far side were all in rubble and had been for some time. A wooden palisade had been hastily constructed on this side of the fortress, probably to keep out machines, not the fearsome Tenakth as this was the 'trusted' side of the building. This encircled a shanty town of tents and canvas lean-tos that were evidently the housing of the artisans and laborers that were rebuilding the castle. Within the palisade and attached to the remnants of the stone wall, twenty or more feet high was a central fort with walls as high as the main defense anchored around a partially destroyed tower that was clad in scaffolding for it's repair.

Even from this distance, Travis and his eagle eyed wife could see a commotion on the battlements. Carja Archers were firing out, into the Forbidden West and suddenly a gigantic explosion rose up from behind that wall. “Trouble!” shouted Nakoa as Travis struggled to get his binoculars from their case. “There!” she pointed at the top of the ridge that overlooked the field below the fortress.

The Zeiss lenses that had been diligently crafted a millennia ago in a country that no longer existed caused the ridge line to leap up to Travis' vision. There he beheld a dark completed woman, in armor composed of machine pieces with a magnificent plumed helmet or head dress, looking down on to whatever battle was raging below her. The armor had been brightly painted predominately in white, red and gold that included some manner of face and body paint that made it difficult to make out where the armor stopped and her skin began. With her were at least a dozen others, similarly armed, armored and painted. Worse, all of them were astride machines, Striders mostly, but also Bristlebacks and the woman stood next to something Travis had never seen, but put him in mind of a velociraptor from it's long snout dominated head and upright posture on two legs with two much smaller arms. “This is bad!” he shouted to his group. “Whoever is on that ridge are riding machines!”

“It looks like the Embassy is a trap!” Nakoa declared. “We must ride to Varl's aid!” Before Travis could yes or no the suggestion, she put the spurs to Snow Flake who took off like a shot from a cannon.

“God damn it!” Tavis swore as he got his rifle around his body in a patrol sling to be able to make use of it quickly. “Weapons free!” he shouted over his shoulder at the remainder of his party. “Charge!” Then he ordered Black Jack up to a gallop and the group thundered down the hill after Nakoa.

The shanty town, and the fortress of Barren Light passed in a blur as they came out through the gate to be greeted with a slaughter. There was a pile of dead warriors that were dressed as the woman on the ridge, broken machines that had been ridden down into this little clearing that was dominated by a lone archway that seemed to be the remnant of a gate house of Barren Light. Among the dead strangers were uniformed Carja soldiers, also slain, and the sun priest, Studious Vuadis, face down in the grass, with three arrows in his back only a dozen feet or so from the gate and the safety he'd been running for.

With a cry of rage, Aloy thrust her spear into the guts of one of the warriors, half again her size. He cried out in agony as the strike forced the air from his lungs and was driven to the ground. The Nora Seeker removed the spear, then struck again with a coup de gras, killing him. With that, a calm settled over the field of battle and Aloy again looked up at the woman on the ridge and shouted, “Your turn! Come down here and face me!”

The woman on the ridge took note of the arrival of machine riders coming out from the Carja fortress, then turned back to Aloy. “No!” she shouted. “It was an honorable challenge you gave to Grudda and with your victory over him you have earned your life!” She raised her hands and addressed the riders near her. “Comrades! Mark this day! Today you have decimated the Marshals! Slaughtered the Carja! So begins our war on Hekkaro!” She gave a final look of disgust at the battle field, then the warriors turned and withdrew, behind the ridge, beyond the reach of even the AR-15.

“Aloy!” Travis shouted as he brought up his rifle as some of the warriors on the plain with them were rushing towards a downed Bristleback to the aid of a warrior pinned under it.

“Stop!” she shouted back. “They're with me!” The warriors paused, fierce eyes staring out of their painted faces, fingering swords, cudgels and mauls that had been fashioned, somewhat crudely from machine parts. Travis raised a hand as he gently lowered his rifle back onto it's sling. He dismounted near Snow Flake and assisted the group freeing the warrior beneath the Bristleback. As he was pulled free, it revealed how badly he'd been mauled by the machine, his left arm stopped just below his shoulder and its Brachial Artery was fountaining blood.

The warrior cried out in pain, but his face was clinched as it wasn't clear if more fighting was in the offering. Though, despite his wound, his face claimed he was ready to give as well as he would take. “Get him to the camp!” one of the others ordered.

“No, wait!” Travis declared as he snatched the tourniquet on his med pouch free from it's holder. “We can help him.” Without waiting for approval, he got the device around the remainder of the man's arm and pulled it tight. He cried out again, at the pain, but the fountain of blood stopped. Immediately, Tracy arrived next to him, opening a packet of Quick Clot and dumping it over the stump.

“I need a fire,” she commanded. “We have to cauterize this. Quickly! As hot as you can make it!”

“Who are you?” demanded one of the warriors, a female, Travis was a bit surprised to see.

“She's a healer,” Nakoa snapped at her. “Probably the best walking this world!”

The wounded warrior looked up at his fellow and ordered her, “Make the fire!” With the bleeding contained, the warriors quickly had a fire going and were fanning it hot. As they did so, Tracy produced a field surgery kit and was frantically repairing what she could of his shattered arm. The wounded soldier showed his mettle by only grunting every now and then at her efforts. Finally, a machine piece was brought over, glowing cherry red.

“I'm sorry,” Tracy told him. “This is going to...”

“Do it!” he grunted through clinched teeth. She pressed the metal against the stump and steaming hiss of it was drowned out by a course exclamation from his throat that he otherwise kept behind his teeth. The smell of burning flesh filled the air until at last she took the piece away. The stump was red, but the bone and muscle were no longer visible. Tracy smeared the stump gently with anti burn cream, mixed with antibiotic, then began wrapping the wound with a dressing. Finally, the man's breathing returned to normal, or at least a more normal rhythm that he was before. He looked down at the stump, and back up at the medic. “You are the greatest Healer I have ever met, and you have my thanks.”

“You have to keep this wound dry,” she told him. And change the bandage every day, making sure the new bandage is clean. Use cloth that has been boiled first.”

“I am Kotallo,” he replied. “Marshal of the Tenakth, Warrior of the Sky Clan. If I live, it will be in victory from your skill. If I die, it will have been from wounds taken in battle. Ask what you will, and I will grant it to you.”

“I don't need anything from you, but you getting well,” she told him. “You've lost a lot of blood. You'll need to rest and drink plenty of water.”

“Actually,” Travis interrupted. “We are on a quest that will take us into your lands. We request safe passage.”

Kotallo looked up at the other man, his ruddy skin covered in a pasty white face paint with dark gray triangles running down his jaw to give the impression of fangs. “What is it you seek on this quest?”

“A malignant...spirit, for lack of a better word,” Travis replied. “Bent on the death and destruction of everyone in this world. We mean to stop and kill it. Once and for all.”

He considered that for a moment and nodded. “Then I grant you safe passage through the lands of the Tenakth. But between us and those lands lie those of the Utaru, and you must beg conduct from them.” He reached down and produced what at first glance was a flint dagger that was actually made from steel and set into a horn handle. “Show them this, and they will know you have the blessing of the Tenakth, which should aid your conversation with them. Any Tenakth will know it as safe conduct.”

“Thank you,” Travis told him.

“No,” he replied as he shakily got to his feet with the aid of another of the warriors. “It is I who thank you and the skill of your healer. Safe travels.” Travis watched them go, then turned to see Aloy helping Varl to his feet, though the young man was not steady and was favoring his right leg.

“You gonna make it?” she asked as she helped him up.

The son of the Nora War Chief winced in pain and finally allowed himself to be aided. “You're going to go on without me, aren't you?” he demanded. Aloy looked down at the wound on his leg, then back up at him, her expression easy to read. “Guess I'm stuck with Errand,” he grunted as they began to make their way towards the Gate of Barren Light. “For now.”

“Come on,” she encouraged him. “I'll take you back to the fort.” Travis watched them pass, then turned to see a cadre of Carja soldiers come out of the gate, gathering their dead, and, to his surprise, one of the fallen Tenakth, but not as a trophy. They were reverent with him, laying him gently on a cart and crossing his arms over his chest.

One of the Carja soldiers, a dark complected man of African descent, turned from overlooking this to walk over to Travis. “I'm Lawan, deputy...well, now I suppose Commander of this outpost,” he greeted, nodding with his head towards a pair of soldiers picking up the corpse of an older man with gray hair in a Carja uniform bedecked in ribbons and awards of rank.

“Colonel Travis Murray, member of the AmSci Tribe.”

A smile lit up the Commanders face, one he seemed used to wearing. “One of the legendary Ancients,” he said, obviously pleased. “Well met. I presume you will be going out into No Man's Land?”

“This isn't the realm of these Utaru?” Travis asked.

Lawan smiled and shook his head as he turned to face the valley, falling away from the mountains through which the small river running through The Daunt joined and continued to the south west. Across the plain there were hundred, perhaps thousands of Scarab and Horus automated war machines, frozen in place from the shut down command broadcast from GAIA hundreds of years ago. Most were rusting and had various types of plants growing on them. A holocaust army, frozen in time. “This? No, this is No Man's Land, unclaimed by the Carja, the Tenakth or the Utaru.” He pointed towards the mountains north and west on the other side of the river. “The Utaru lands are that way, on the other side of the river. There are a range of mountains on the other side of this plateau. The Tenakth claim the passes through them and those lands on the other side.”

“And, down the river?”

“It can be traveled safely, though you must be cautious. It gathers into a large lake that flows towards a dam of the Ancients. Be wary, the water flows very quickly through a tunnel to get past it. If you fall into it you'll be killed.”

“Hoover Dam,” Murray informed him. “In our time, we called that Lake Mead.” He paused, then looked back at the soldiers removing the body of the Tenakth warrior. “Why do you take one of the enemy fallen with you?”

Lawan bowed his head. “That is no enemy. That is the body of Unyielding Fashav, the Sun King's Cousin.”