Exiles in Arms: Night of the Necrotech (28 page)

The tableau was explained in an instant. Taryn was going to be forced to duel the pistol wraith. That was the “experiment” that had excited the necrotech’s fascination.

“We have to get her out of there,” Rutger hissed to Kalder. “She’s good, but nobody can outdraw a ghost.”

Kalder nodded in agreement. “Slip back and send Rex up. We’ll use the ’jack as a distraction.”

Rutger had just begun to turn back toward the tunnel when disaster struck. A patch of darkness near the two men, a shadowy blot that seemed devoid of solidity and substance, suddenly disgorged the necromechanikal horror that had captured Taryn. The metal tentacles of the iron lich flailed against the floor, its three arms clawed at the air around it, and the tip of its metal spine stabbed again and again at the ground. The leering skulls set into the thing’s side, the fleshless faces of the men fused into the machine’s unholy construction, glared banefully at the mortals it had discovered.

“What interesting flesh,” the left skull said. “Distilling souls from meat is always such unique entertainment.”

“They walk right to me, like flies into the spider’s web,” the right skull cackled. “Yes, I must be careful not to kill these too quickly.”

The ceaseless groan of the central skull ended in a shriek of alarm that scratched its way through the dungeon.

Rutger leveled his hand cannon and fired. His shot obliterated one of the skulls. Gunfire barked from beside him as Kalder added to the barrage, striking the other two skulls. Shards of bone and fiery ichor dripped from the iron lich’s injuries. For a moment, it surged toward them. Then the ruined skulls collapsed in upon themselves, disintegrating as the forces maintaining their animation deserted the machine, fleeing in a shimmering stream of shrieking energy. The iron lich’s body drifted back, directionless. It crashed into one of the pillars, then settled against the floor where it writhed and shuddered like some huge metal snake.

The combined arms of mercenary and bounty killer had ended the direct malignance of the iron lich, but its warning wail had alerted everything in the dungeon to their presence. The hag’s bloodthirsty snarls as she ordered her risen to attack echoed through the ancient Orgoth prison. Rutger felt himself grow cold all over as the necrotech reared up on its spidery claws and turned toward the ghastly helljack. Arcane runes erupted around the warcaster and its machine. The necrotech had set its mind into communion with the Reaper.

The warcaster laughed and pointed a wizened claw at Rutger, then ordered the helljack to attack.

Beset from all sides, the two men prepared to meet the overwhelming might of their foes. Neither had any delusions about their chances. Their only aim was to inflict as much damage as they could before the Cryxians dragged them down.

For Rutger, there was one other hope, a desperate prayer that Taryn would be able to escape in the confusion.

Dragging Jackknife from its sheath, Rutger cleaved the first of the risen charging at him, bisecting it at the waist and casting its mangled carcass across the floor. The undead rushing behind the thing stumbled over the ruin of their companion. But before Rutger could close upon them, the Reaper’s harpoon came shrieking across the dungeon. The black-iron spear tore the back of the mercenary’s coat as it passed him. The chain unreeling behind it whipped across his legs, spilling him to the ground. There was a metallic groan as the chain retracted, dragging the harpoon back across the floor toward the monstrous helljack.

Rutger tried to bring his mechanikal sword slashing down against the chain, to sever the link between the Reaper and its weapon. As he scrambled to his feet, however, the risen clutched at him with their clawed hands, pulling him back down. The morbid fingers of the undead tore at his body, blackened nails snapping against the heavy armor he wore. The mummified husk of a face leered down at him. Its pestilent stench made him gag. The undead brought its face still nearer, its rotten teeth clacking together in ghoulish anticipation.

Before the risen could bite into him, it was suddenly flung through the air, impaled by the Reaper’s harpoon. Rutger kicked out at the other risen clawing at him, smashing skulls and snapping arms as he tried to scramble away. The steely groan of the chain echoed through the dungeon once more. Rutger just cleared the path of the thrashing risen spitted upon the harpoon as it was dragged across the ground. Several other undead weren’t so lucky, knocked flat as the chain pulled the creature through their crawling ranks.

The helljack’s eyes erupted with a hateful fire when it saw the risen spitted on its harpoon. It ripped the undead free of its weapon with the pneumatic spike fitted to its other arm, splattering the corpse across the floor. A low, bestial growl rumbled through the thing as it marched toward its intended prey.

The helljack took a few steps, then swung around with an enraged roar. The roar was met by the snarl of steam from Rex’s grill. The huge warjack came charging into the dungeon like an avalanche of iron, smoke billowing from its furnace, steam jetting from its pistons as lubricants vaporized in the intensity of the Toro’s furious rush. Risen were smashed into paste, their carcasses obliterated before Rex’s hurtling bulk. The witch, caught in the warjack’s path, started to evoke her magic. Crimson runes flickered around her, and her body started to assume a scarlet sheen. But before she could complete her spell, the claw of Rex’s foot struck her, tossing her through the air like a rag doll. The witch’s body slammed into the floor with an impact that bespoke broken bones and torn flesh.

Rex’s momentum was broken, however, when its foot slipped into one of the torture pits scattered about the dungeon floor. The Toro’s thunderous drive ended in a shriek of twisting metal as it tripped and crashed to the floor, steam hissing through its cracked hull.

Rutger shouted a warning to the ’jack, struggling to make his voice clear amid the din of battle. “Roll!” he told Rex, watching in alarm as the green glow of the warcaster’s magic flared about the helljack’s hull. The Reaper braced its clawed feet, thrust forward its left shoulder, and launched the harpoon at the fallen warjack.

Rutger’s intention was for Rex to dodge the harpoon. But if the warjack heard his command, it couldn’t obey. The spear slammed into the Toro’s shoulder, ripping through the armor plate and stabbing into the gears beneath.

Then the chain was retracting as the helljack tried to recover its weapon. Rex’s massive hand closed around the retreating chain. For an instant, the scene stood frozen, and then the helljack took a stumbling step toward the fallen Toro. Instead of dragging the harpoon back, the chain was pulling the Reaper toward Rex. Exhibiting an almost living sense of panic, the helljack resisted the second stumbling step toward Rex. It brought its piston-driven spike downward, driving it into the floor to prevent its forward momentum.

The spiked arm groaned. For an instant, it seemed it must buckle under the strain being put upon it. Then the Reaper’s forward lurch straightened, and the chain began to reel itself back onto the spool.

Rex, still clutching the chain with its hand, was dragged free from the pit. In trying to pull the Toro within reach of its spike, the Reaper instead pulled Rex back onto its feet.

Rutger cut down one of the risen and shouted to Rex, ordering the warjack to tear the harpoon from its shoulder before the helljack could pull it any closer. Rex grabbed the length of black iron stabbed into its hull, rocking it back and forth to widen the wound. Once the hole was big enough, the pull of the chain ripped the harpoon free. The Reaper staggered at the unexpected slack, then yanked its spike from the floor. The rest of the chain drew itself back onto the spool, pulling the harpoon back into its launcher.

Again, the grisly runes of the necrotech’s magic rippled around the Reaper, arcane flames licking about the length of its harpoon as the necrotech’s sorcery empowered his creation. The ghastly machine howled and took several steps back, even as its eyes blazed hatefully at Rex. With a metal scream, the harpoon exploded once more from the Reaper’s left arm and hurtled toward Rex.

Kalder had discarded the two exhausted repeating pistols. A half dozen of the risen lay sprawled on the floor. As more of the undead came rushing at him, he drew the sword sheathed at his side and the third pistol holstered across his belly. Taking quick aim, he sent a bullet crashing through the rotten skull of one of the undead, splashing worms and brains across the creatures charging beside it. The undead didn’t falter, but continued their vicious advance.

Kalder shifted the smoking pistol in his hand and fired at the first of the risen to close upon him. The creature’s jaw shattered. It lurched back from the impact. Before it could recover, the bounty hunter’s sword slashed across its belly, spilling its rotten entrails about its feet.

The other undead came at him, their eyes filled with blood, fluid from the gory runes carved into their foreheads dripping down their faces. They attacked with an abominable vitality, pressing the bounty hunter back with clawed hands. When one of their clutching talons raked across his arm, the padded armor beneath Kalder’s coat was nearly shredded down to its quilt lining. Whatever magic the witch had endowed these corpses with, it had made their claws keen as razors. Kalder grimaced as he considered what damage they could inflict on unprotected flesh.

The risen pressed him back. His slashing blade and barking pistol held no terror for the animated dead. They absorbed the injuries he inflicted without a single cry of pain. Unless he dealt a crippling blow, something that broke bones or severed tendons, the risen persisted.

Kalder’s retreat brought his back against one of the pillars. Unable to withdraw any farther, he braced himself for the rush of his undead foes. The risen were hideous with the array of wounds they had suffered, their faces smashed by bullets, bony chests ripped open by his slashing sword. The bloody eyes glared at him with cold, alien loathing.

The crack of pistols broke the final charge. Two of the creatures pitched and fell, the tops of their heads blown off. Two more turned toward their new assailant, but before they could move they too were vanquished. Kalder pounced upon the last, beating it down with the butt of his pistol and severing its head with his blade.

The thrill of his miraculous escape turned sour when Kalder saw what had fired the shots that saved him. The pistol wraith stood watching, its tricorn hat pushed away from the hungry flames glowing in its eye sockets. The ghost wagged the barrel of its wraithlock at the bounty hunter, gesturing at the pistol in his hand.

Kalder’s breath froze in his lungs as he understood what it was the phantom wanted. It must have appreciated his marksmanship or the tenacity with which he’d tried to fight off the risen. Somehow, Kalder had aroused the pistol wraith’s interest. Now the thing stood there waiting, just as it had for Taryn, anxious to test its abilities against another gunfighter.

Kalder reloaded the spent gun, studying his undead adversary as he worked, taking in the antique character of its weapons and costume. An idea formed in his mind. The pistol wraith was an accomplished duelist that had doubtless gunned down many a rival both before and after its own death, but Kalder was gambling it hadn’t kept up with technology.

When the ghost had waited to match its skills against Taryn’s in Vulger’s mansion, its form seemed to flicker between a phantom mistiness and stark physicality. When it was completely ghostlike, Kalder’s bullets had passed through it with no more effect than shooting at a puff of smoke. Only Taryn’s enchanted bullets had dealt it any harm. But when the pistol wraith was ready to attack, it assumed a solidity that could be struck by mundane steel and lead. Only when it set itself to duel a mortal foe did the pistol wraith render itself vulnerable.