Chapter 26 – Like Clockwork

  When Besson didn’t join them at dawn, Cole had Howie take him out to the forest where he’d spoken to the K9. They left the gate along with the flux of traffic from the field workers and lumberjacks. Most of them stared at the pair of Kickers that towered head and shoulders above the crowd, but Cole brushed them off. It seemed even humans born native to a Lewis Field could be small and frail when they lived life barely scraping by. They reached the edge of the crop fields, where the impaled fungal zombies they’d seen the night before were already dead and burning, along with about fifty kilos of crops they’d touched.

  “Damn,” said Cole, looking at the masked farmers poking at the pyre with long wooden poles. “These guys don’t mess around.”

  “No kidding. How many of those hungry mouths would those crops have fed?”

  Cole leaned over the fence and ran his hand over the plant growing within. “None. This is flax. It’s for clothes.”

  Stretching to pull a bud toward him, Howie made an ‘ah’ sound. “I guess the Georgia boy would know crops. Makes sense, why they’re all in rags if they have to keep burning their textile plants. Smart, in a way, though. The zombies ruin these before they ruin any sustenance crops. Not that it matters.”

  “Why not?” asked Cole, looking over.

  The younger Kicker shrugged. “Genetic diversity. You need a certain population threshold to keep from interbreeding to the point where genetic diseases start rearing their ugly heads. I’m pretty sure Last Fall Hold ain’t got it.”

  “Probably best we keep that between us,” said Cole, lowering his voice. This world really was amidst its death throes; a slow bleed-out over years or even generations that would leave nothing but fungal zombies walking the woods and plains of Curahee.

  The pair walked to the wood line and out into the trees. Howie had to check himself a couple of times, but eventually led them to a tall tree. But there was no sign of Besson or Nutmeg. They went back to the tree line, and Howie re-traced his steps.

  “I swear this was the tree,” said Howie, looking around. “Maybe. Ninety percent.”

  Cole looked up at the trunk and the low branches. Tightening the improvised paracord sling on his new rifle, he hoisted himself up into the tree. Climbing up to where a split in the trunk made for a natural platform, he looked out through a gap in the canopy through which he could clearly see the gate house.

  “Like, seventy-five percent,” said Howie, chewing his lip.

  “I believe you,” said Cole. This was the spot he would have chosen, as well. It wasn’t a bridge too far to think Besson might have gotten impatient or antisocial and left ahead of them. But Cole didn’t think it was that simple. Besson might be a loner, but he wasn’t the type to just abandon people. He looked around the platform. On a bare piece of trunk, he found several scratches left with a knife. A pair of outward-facing curved shapes and an arrow. Cole ran his finger over the curves.

  Horns, maybe? Ram’s horns?

  It was difficult to carve curved lines with a knife. The arrow was clear, at least. It pointed north, past the village and up the slope toward the path to the top of the mountain. Ram-head had gone past the village then. And Besson was tracking him with Nutmeg. It might be a big assumption, but it was the worst-case scenario and thus, the safest to operate from. Cole swung back down to the ground. If there was one person in Curahee, other than Cole himself, good enough to track a high-level warrior without being noticed, it was Besson. If he could throw a monkey wrench into Ram-head’s plans or get a warning to them, all the better. But that didn’t change his 500-meter target.

  “Besson’s gone on ahead. He’s following our boy,” said Cole.

  “You mean that armored guy?” asked Howie. “Shiiiit. Alright. What’s the play?”

  “We stick to the plan. Up the lift and into the Spore Druid’s castle. We’ve got a little less than nine hours until the first portal opens. If we can leave, we leave. And then we bring the cavalry back with us.”

  The gate soldiers waved them back in, and they found Ludwig with the others outside the Kicker waystation. The healer, Clara, and Morganstern were there, too. Morganstern looked about as weak as a newborn kitten in her camo jacket and soft armor underneath—no plates, from the way she moved. Just the inserts might have been too much extra weight for her to bear. She had a sidearm, but Cole gave her even odds of being able to steady it enough to hit anything. Just the fact that she was mobile by her own power was a boon. They needed her experience, and they needed Roxy ready to fight, not hauling 140 pounds of unconscious proctor.

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  “Is this everyone?” asked Baron Ludwig. “I was given to understand you had another companion I had not yet seen."

  Cole shook his head. “Just us.”

  “Very well, then. Follow me.”

  Ludwig led them to the northwest side of the town, just to the side of the waterfall that poured down into a pond at the base of the cliff. The waterwheels churning in the runoff were connected by belts and pulleys to a mill at the base, and the excess water ran off through a culvert along the perimeter wall where the locals washed clothes, and finally out of the town through a drain. A platform connected to the cliff was fixed to a track, separated from the mechanical power system by a disconnected clutch. A lot of people from the town had turned out to stand at the water and watch.

  “It’s been some years since we had cause to use this,” said Ludwig. “The mechanisms still work, though I admit, it is not much to behold.”

  Morganstern looked at the device with some skepticism. Apparently, she wasn’t in a state to survive another cliff jump like he’d watched her do on his first day in Curahee. Though just to be on the safe side, he preemptively lowered his falling speed as low as it would go, getting slightly lighter on his feet in the process. It seemed like the fall speed of his Meteoric Valkyrie passive was actually tied to gravity’s effect on him, slightly reducing or increasing how much it pulled him toward the ground. He stepped up onto the platform. He wondered how long it would be until he could pull the trick of taking a backwards swan dive off a cliff without worry.

  One by one, the others followed him. Ludwig stayed on the ground, looking wistful. “I wish you well, pilgrims, Dame Morganstern. I’ve seen the Spore Druid’s keep once before and have no desire to do so again. May our paths cross in peace, should you ever come back this way.”

  Roxy waved. “Bye, Baron!” she said.

  “Thanks for the help,” said Morganstern. “Tell Clara I’ll bring her something next time I’m proctoring tryouts.”

  Ludwig’s muscles bulged as he threw a switch that connected the clutch on the cliff face. The water wheel stuttered, and several of the brass mechanisms realigned themselves, diverting the flow of the waterfall to a central, high-torque system connected to the lift platform. The main wheel slowed under the increased load until the buildup forced it to move once more. When it did, the platform under their feet started to lift with a grinding ratchet-belt sound like a roller coaster climbing to its apex.

  “That’s not terrifying at all,” said Howie, looking anywhere but down at the ground dropping away.

  “Just think of it as a ride,” said Ken, grinning. “First the climb, then the drop.” He raised his hands in the air and mimicked riding, complete with whispered “Ahhhh!”

  “Not. Helping.” Howie ground out through clenched teeth.

  They rose past the point where the waterfall emerged right out of the cliff face, and it took about twenty more minutes to reach the top of the cliff, leaving Last Fall Hold as a dark shadow amidst the thick morning mist. Once it finally stopped, they stepped off onto an old, dilapidated platform strewn with discarded gear and old, moss-covered otherworld armaments that hadn’t made the cut. Much of it was overgrown with fungus, and the walls of the castle were clearly visible.

  “Since we’re alone, now, and nothing’s rushing to attack us,” said Cole, “You should know that the Ram-helmeted guy is either on his way up, taking the scenic route, or he’s already here. Besson started tracking him when he did recon on the hold. But I don’t know how late or how early that was. Could have been an hour ago, could have been six.”

  Morganstern grimaced. “Figured something like that must have gone down when you came back without him. Alright. Since this tryout is fucked anyway, you all should know what’s coming our way. This castle was where some idiot druid unleashed a fungal curse that screwed this entire world up. Ludwig probably mentioned they might be the last humans here. We flew an MQ-9 around for hundreds of kilometers in every direction, and as far as we can tell, he’s right. Every city that isn’t covered with mushrooms is just burnt to the ground. Millions of dead-heads with the late-stage fungal fevers, bark-men, you name it.”

  She pointed up the mountain. “It all started in there. And that’s where Bricker hacked that bastard druid to pieces. But that keep is ground-zero, and the dead-heads in there are stronger than anything you fought in the valley. Take all the anti-fungals you’ve got left before we move out. Finding a way inside the walls and finding the throne room where the portal home opens is supposed to be part of the tryout, but fuck all that. As far as I’m concerned, you all passed when you rescued my ass and put a 7.62x51 bullet through the skull of a hostile mage.”

  Ken raised his hand. “Technically, Han and I did not do any of that.”

  “Credit by association,” Morganstern said.

  Ken nodded, satisfied.

  The wounded Kicker continued. “A klick and a half around the south side of the outer wall, there’s a sally port that can be opened from the inside. One person can get up and over the wall and let the others through.” Morganstern wiggled her eyebrows at Cole. “Isn’t that right, mama mia?”

  Cole’s face reddened. “You saw that?”

  “Bet your little red hat I did. Assuming you didn’t blow your charge already, Airborne.”

  “I’ve got two charges, and no, they’re both up,” said Cole. He considered. “I can burn both to take someone up with me. Should I bring backup?”

  “Really? That’s good to know. But no. If you’ve got two charges, it’s better to hold one in reserve and just lower a rope for Roxy, instead. It’s too cramped in there for more than a couple people. Besides, charges fill from a split between your own soul and filtering latent Lewis Field energy, so holding a charge makes the others cool down faster. You might need the ability to escape if you find something you can’t handle. If that’s the case, we’ll try an alternate ingress point. Good?”

  Roxy grinned at him. “Ready when you are, Cole.”

  The plan sounded solid, and Morganstern knew the castle. Cole took out the rest of his anti-fungal tabs and downed them all at once. They threatened to stick in his throat, filling his entire mouth with their metallic taste, but he choked them down. Hopefully, that would be enough for the worst concentration of the fungal disease consuming the mountain top.