The tunnel beyond the smithy, considering the width and height, must have transferred large equipment from one place to another before the terrons moved in. Thin metal pipes ran up the sides and to the ceiling, where they connected with tech lights, providing plenty of illumination. The ground contained rutted dust, and the rushing lizards kicked up enough of the powder, Lapis teared and coughed on the stuff. Brander shoved his buff up his face, and Tearlach held his arm across his mouth and nose.
Cassa plastered her jacket over her face and ran faster.
They passed terrons fleeing to the main cave, eyes wide and terrified, making huffing, whining sounds. None looked injured, but fright might keep them from realizing their pain until they reached safety.
The air became heavier with water, and the scent of wet soil and green plants mingled with the dust. The tunnel ended, and the way sloped down into a bowl-shaped, flat-bottomed, open-ceiling space filled with rows of rail fences that fanned away from the ramp. Within the enclosures, crops crowded into every conceivable place a plant could grow; berry bushes, vines curling up tree branches stuck in the earth, fluttery grains and yellow-pebble stalks, several fruit trees with their produce scattered in the soil below or sitting in baskets near the trunks. Most of it looked like wild growth, rather than the tamed fields humans plowed.
In the lanes between plots, lizards rushed towards those standing firm and fighting khentauree, who clambered over the jagged lip of a hole in the wall and whisked over the broken rock just below it. Others hid as they could, behind bushes and trees, shuddering, calling, heads frantically whipping about. Whimpering cries tore at Lapis’s chest; their fear, sour, dank, coated the fresh atmosphere, and she had to help.
The fighters slashed at the khentauree, aiming for the cyan spheres in their chests. The machines held an odd weapon, something that looked like a jousting lance, only shorter. They poked the terrons, hard enough to puncture human flesh, though they did not punch through the scales. The secretion Cassa mentioned kept them safe—for now. Lapis had no idea how long they could maintain the defense.
Still, she wondered when they might deploy their tech. One of the khentauree she, Faelan and Rodas had first seen, shot a cyan beam at them. Her uncle thought it a scan, but even if it was, the bright cyan light could blind an enemy. Why not use it?
Too many khentauree; they poured through the hole, stepping on each other and wobbling about for balance. More and more came, and when one inevitably stumbled and went down, the others paraded over them, uncaring which part of the body they stomped on.
They had an intent, one more important than their fallen buddies.
“We need to evacuate the rest,” Cassa said. She shoved her fingers in her mouth and whistled, loud enough the khentauree paused. The terrons smacked them in the torsos; they tumbled back, losing their footing, and the lizards’ heavy claws smashed their spheres when they fell. In unison, they returned to their assault.
Lapis took a position at the base of the ramp and triggered her blades, trying hard not to gag on the burnt feces odor. How much worse did it affect those with better noses? She did not envy the fighters, who needed to step in the oozing stuff.
Brander stood on the other side, knife in hand. The edge glimmered red; the Minq undershanks used similar weapons. She initially assumed the color marked which syndicate the wielder belonged to, but she now wondered if the sheen meant tech. A typical-looking blade with a surprise would come in handy during chases. She needed to remember to ask him about it.
Cassa and Tearlach helped two bluish-green terrons calm workers so afraid they trembled behind bushes and trees, hunched, unmoving. They prodded them into motion and guided them to the ramp. Once they hit the incline, they raced up, eager to attain the safety of the other cavern.
The khentauree maneuvered around the fighters, intent on the fleeing workers. The bowl shape, combined with how high on the slope the ramp sat, allowed Lapis a good view of everything happening, and her confidence in the situation crashed into despair as she realized the enemy numbers. At least four mechanical creatures to every terron, with more pouring into the space.
Several bushes to her far left, halfway between the first khentauree to break the line and the ramp, rustled. A small wine-red terron, perhaps half Tovi’s size, popped out, stumbled, and looked up at the roar of warning from an adult. They hunched and froze, like a cat suddenly too afraid to move.
Dammit.
The desperate fighter pivoted and barreled into the lead khentauree while others jumped the fence and trampled the plants to skirt them. The lizard’s tail lashed out, and while it struck the enemy, the blow did not hinder them. Lapis raced to the little one. They started and whipped around, staring at her in dread.
“Come on, come on, let’s get you to the ramp.” Lapis stuttered to a halt as one of the machines broke through the railing. Its face dipped, to look at the young one; Lapis jumped between them and raised her blades. The lance rebounded off her left gauntlet and the khentauree lost its grip; the weapon spun and landed in a puff of dirt behind it.
The machine did not retrieve it, simply used its fists. It struck fast; she barely avoided each blow. A couple glanced off the gauntlets, jarring her with their strength. She sliced back; the edge of her left blade cut deep into the right metal bicep, and sparks burst from the damage. The khentauree looked at the injury, and she took advantage, shoving the tip into the sphere; it cracked and the foul liquid poured out, coating her weapon. It wobbled and went down on its knees before tipping over; the lizard protecting the lane slid backwards and stepped on the head, smashing it; the body went limp.
Wincing at the desecration of her gauntlet, Lapis sheathed her blades and scooped up the frozen young one before the larger bowled them over, and awkwardly ran with them to the ramp. She felt as if she carried an eight-year-old street rat that weighed twice what she expected. Cassa rushed to her and took the terron; good. The scientist could calm the child far better than she.
The numbers of khentauree pushed the terrons back, towards the ramp.
Tearlach ran up it and leaned against the railing before taking off his pack and digging inside. He withdrew a box that unfolded into a tech weapon similar to Patch’s small crossbow, but larger and without the string. He set it against his shoulder, sighted, and pulled the trigger; a blue beam shot from it and nailed a khentauree in the sphere. It exploded, splattering its oblivious compatriots with the rancid cyan stuff, and the machine collapsed.
The last of the non-fighters hastened up the incline; she, Brander, and the two lizards who helped evacuate spanned the base. She would do her best to prevent any of the mechanical monsters from reaching the next cavern, though she suspected the terrons possessed a greater defensive capacity. She triggered her blades and winced as her left did not extend properly; the stuff had gunked up the workings. What might it do to the edge?
The twenty-three front line protectors retreated to the ramp, and khentauree filled the lanes between plots, two abreast, marching in not-quite unison. Nathala and Vali were the final two, and they stopped, waiting. The terrons fanned out behind them, each pointing to a separate lane, with another eighteen as solid back-up. They froze in place, but for the twitching of their tails.
The front machines were two to three steps away from clearing the plants when Nathala flung her head back and roared. Lapis slapped her hands over her ears as the sound reverberated around her, shaking her eyes enough, she squeezed them shut to keep from being sick. The ground quaked; she peeked.
The lizards barreled down the lanes, smashing the machines under their powerful front legs and chests. Others followed in their wake, shattering the spheres with their claws and smooshing their heads until sparks burst from them. Only the two who helped with the evacuation remained at the ramp, their tails vibrating. Once all enemies fell, the terrons stomped back through, obliterating anything that moved.
Lapis looked at the tunnel opening; empty. Vali leapt over the fallen and peered inside, then turned to Nathala and signed.
“She says she doesn’t think there are any more, but they need to investigate to make certain,” Brander said, edging to her while squinting at the conversation. “The odor from the sponoil is covering up any other scents.”
She looked up at him, then back at the tunnel.
“Do you think this was the group we saw enter Ambercaast?”
“I don’t know. I have the impression that no one got a headcount. Looking at the numbers, though . . . maybe.”
“The sponoil is going to foul the ground, maybe the water,” Cassa said, hastening up, worried.
“Is the little one all right?” Lapis asked.
“Yes. I gave her to her mother. She wants to thank you, for saving her little girl. That will need to wait, though. I spoke with your uncle; he said he’d contact the workstation and see if they can spare anyone to help with the cleanup. This is a large food source, and they can’t lose the harvest.”
“I don’t think there’s a terron small enough to fit in that tunnel,” Tearlach said, trotting to them.
“We can offer to help,” Lapis said.
Brander pointed at her blade. “That doesn’t look good.”
She raised her left hand; the substance crept down the metal, which meant the gears and inside workings were useless. “I had trouble drawing it after I hit the sphere,” she said.
“The smithy might have something to clean it with,” Cassa said, eyeing the stuff with a sour grimace. “I can take it to them. And it looks like the quicker, the better.”
Lapis unclasped the gauntlet and handed it to her; it was not effective in its current state anyway, though she detested being under-armed.
