Глава 14

(Strange howl)

Our weapons don't work! This thing just won't die!

Aim for its head! We'll see how many hits it can take!

It's too fast! We can't hit it!

Draw its attention! I'll try to hit it from behind!

The mercenary attempts to go around the monster, but one swing of its tail sends him slamming into a rock wall.

None of the attacks seem to have caused any real damage. It flaps its wings, and scorching winds engulf the cave, making the air even thinner.

The ground quakes, and spikes erupt from under the earth, hurtling towards everyone.

Shut up...

I said shut it, you short-legged moth!

(Song-like cry)

The monster immediately locks onto where the damage came from, surprisingly agile for its size.

In the brief time it takes W to reload, the monster has already closed the distance, its fangs nearly grazing her face.

I don't know how you got that ugly mug...

But you'll need a bigger one to eat me!

Chew on this instead, sucker!

*pant*... *pant*...

Is it... dead?

Hard to live with a big hole in its face, eh?

A-Are you okay?

I've always been good at blast control.

I got a theory, W.

There might just be a lost Sarkaz Court called bomb fiend or something, and you're its last princess.

Ha-ha. Very funny.

But what the hell is this? Doesn't look like any animal I've ever seen.

I heard that some of those Columbian crazies sew parts of different animals together. Maybe this is their doing?

Unfortunately, I know a bunch of Sarkaz crazies who do the same thing.

(Under her breath) It reeks of witchcraft. Confessarius monsters? Why out here in the middle of nowhere?

Them being here is no coincidence. There must be something else in the cave.

Did... did this thing eat our guys?

The only way to find out is to cut it open.

We're sure it's dead, right?

Damn, this thing had friends?

They've blocked the entrance! What do we do?

Run!

Forty-eight hours into the operation...

What time is it?

Would it mean anything to you?

Call it a professional habit. I feel better when I know what time it is.

6 PM. Two days since we crashed into the canyon.

Two days... Enough to do a lot of things.

Do you remember, Hoederer? The three of us were on a mission to steal a Sargonian Pasha's treasure. We got the treasure, but also a hundred or so people on our tails.

We hid in a cave for two whole days. We were starving but were too afraid to light a fire or leave.

It was Ines who stitched your wounds up. You wouldn't have made it otherwise.

Ha. I said, the sun's almost up. Just let me bathe in the sun for a little bit, and I'll feel much better.

I must have stopped you. There were enemies outside. We couldn't risk exposing ourselves.

No, you didn't stop me. Ines teased me. She found it hilarious that a Scar Market merc would miss the sun.

Sure, the Scar Market is under Kazdel and never sees the sun.

I became the pilot of this skeleton when I joined the Military Commission's staff as a major.

When I took the young ones back and forth between Kazdel and Londinium, it was like we had outrun the sun.

I can't go back. None of the Sarkaz can.

...Ulšulah?

What's going on—

They're here.

The skeleton is moving?

For a moment, the Feranmut's skeleton seems to be moving, but Hoederer soon realizes it was not the nerve clusters or bones that are moving.

...Nails.

The ship and pilot have always been one.

Lifebone is never merely composed of the Feranmut's skeletons. Rows of long nails are affixed to the massive frame, assembling it into a transport ship.

One of them, infused with her Arts, pierces through the critical section of the spinal column.

She and the skeleton have always linked by witchcraft.

The Arts of the Royal Court's casters have connected to the skeleton. I can sense it.

No need to be anxious. It's not going to wake up yet. But this little bit of connection, and what remains of the Feranmut's powers on this nail, are enough for me to get out of here.

This nail belongs to me. It's linked to my bones. I'm taking it with me.

What happens when a Feranmut's powers are applied directly to the human body? It's not so bad to cut loose once in a while, just like the old days.

The spine is cracking... No!

I told you, Hoederer, that you'll regret not killing me.

Or would you say that this is just another inevitable chapter of history?

Hoederer thrusts his giant sword into the space of the missing nail, barely in time to hold the critical section in place.

But even this fleeting moment is enough for his prisoner to escape her chains.

Ulšulah leaps through a crack in the ribs, disappearing into the fire along with bone and damaged nerve tissue.

Ulšulah!

Ulšulah... the hero drifting among the shards of history, always trying to save others.

Have I ever told you that the name suits you better?

(Angry roar)

How many of them are there?!

It's a dead end ahead!

I wasn't planning to escape from the front; I just needed space for my bombs—

Get down!

Are... are they dead?

Let's hope the rocks I brought down were enough to crush their skulls.

What are they doing here? Are they protecting something?

How am I supposed to know? Do you seriously believe I can talk to monsters?

Ahem... so, I guess we really did find something incredible? It's too bad Crane's team got eaten by these things.

...Not all of us.

You're alive! What the hell happened?

We found a cave on patrol and decided to check it for any potential secret passages.

That's when we ran into those monsters. Tire, Buckler, and Nut got eaten.

The rest of us ran for our lives. For some reason, the monsters wouldn't come this way, but we couldn't get out either, so we were stuck here, until you showed up.

Bloody hell. I'll skin those things and have Ines make clothes out of them.

What did you find inside?

Not much. I've left markers on the way if you want to see for yourself. Go that way, pass a few masked bodies, then take the right fork.

Masked bodies?

A few skeletons that have been there for years. Must have run away from Londinium a few years ago.

The strange thing is... they all cut their own horns off.

Masked bodies? Severed horns?

Their heads were all wrapped up. Maybe some tribal tradition?

Shit! Either you're going crazy, or I am.

Old enemies? Don't worry, they're very dead—

Take me there, now!