12 Miles Below
Book 2. Chapter 24: A taste of blood (T)

To’Wrathh’s wings carefully tasted the air, individual blades moving to catch the invisible currents. Her in-built gravity manipulator did most of the work of course, the wings were more for decoration. Still, they played their part as if it were the most important piece. And so, she approached the human settlement from above.

Humans, as she had learned, had a blind spot. They never looked up. Not unless they’d been trained and conditioned to look up for dangers - such as when they spotted signs of her old nest. Only then would they look up.

Day to day life however? Not a single care in the world.

Far below her, these humans moved around like ants. They scuttled about the hunting lodge, as Tamery had called it. She could make a guess if she cared to, though she left it instead to her subsystems. Recognition software running on the old human CMOS systems powered to life, crunched the data, put green squares on anything that had a high enough percentage match to a human figure. And then tallied up all the squares.

At the start, dozens would be added to the talley as they appeared in and out of tents, exposing themselves to her sight. A few hours into her watch, her software had more or less caught every single human, no duplicates. The count came to a halt at one hundred and thirty three humans. It hadn’t gone up for the past hour since.

Packing up fuel cells on hoversleds, cooking meals for their own, storing armor and weapons in the armory for inspection and cleaning. About fifty relic knights loitered around, some keeping watch over the short metal walls, others milling about a campfire. A handful had spent some time training drills in their courtyard. Telling jokes to one another, laughing all the while. The last caravan had settled into place, the crew going to sleep while the overwatch team made sure all the supplies were accounted for and tied down.

Their encampment wasn’t a permanent thing. It had been constructed to last semi-permanently. No one knew when the mites would decide to visit and tinker with the world, though when they did there was no stopping them. Neither machine nor humans had any chance to stop the pests when they set their mind on something. Mites wouldn’t fight back. They’d simply keep coming like the tide, washing away brick, stone and anything too slow to get out of the way. Small bites taken out of everything. Organic material would be zapped a few times at first, almost like a warning to get out of their territory. Animals certainly heeded the message. Machines didn’t bother letting mites climb on top in the first place. Her own nest had migrated a few times the moment they spotted any column of glowing lights slowly marching in their direction.

Such was the way of the world. As a spider, she’d never thought twice about it. Nor did she care much for what the mites left behind in their trail. Now, however, she could appreciate it.

This particular location was among a wide metal plain, broken apart by geometrically cut rocks jutting out from the metal flooring. Whiskers of silver flickered out of the ground, swaying in the wind. A mite made construction that imitated plants as far as To’Wrathh could see. An invisible current passed through these whiskers, where occasionally those silver lights would shift into bright rainbow colors, all in syncronized movement. Like a wave of color passing over the plain before the glow all returned to silver.

From the ground, it likely didn’t look like much. But from above, she could see the whole picture. The mites had made a painting. A jumbled, mix of colors that made little sense, more of a fever dream than anything artistic.

To’wrathh felt there was a pattern to it, if she spent long enough searching for it. Her subroutines had taken the data, crunched it, and returned no results. Which was interesting, since that same subroutine module had been able to track every single human in camp right down to the way they walked around, all within a few hours of surveillance. And yet, with all that calculating power, it had no idea what the mites were attempting to make. But To’Wrathh felt she could almost understand what the mites had made. Less something cold and hard about data, more something of a feeling to be elicited.

Across these rolling hills, the rocks occasionally turned into something more majestic. Like massive statues that towered far above any, all tilted to some side, half buried. But only the impressions. Stare at any with a closer look and they simply appeared to be rock pillars that happened to tilt over.

At the right angle, they looked almost like weeping robed humans. Faces frozen in time, distorted by the rocks. And only because the pale artificial moonlight gave everything deep shadows. There was no other light besides this silver twilight, the mites hadn’t made any other light sources besides the imitation moon she remained close to.

The humans weren’t here for the art. They had come because this plain was in a strategic location. And had generally an easy sight out all around, at the top of that hill.

They’d created short metal walls that surrounded them like a fortress, with multiple tents and buildings setup closer to the center.

Tamery had explained that knights would rest here, before setting out to hunt machines for power cells. It also made for a good trading post, and a general store for anyone intrepid enough to live in the open territory. There was no safety outside the undersider city walls, but this was a close second.

Turrets appeared across those walls, she counted twenty three. Most were empty. The humans hadn’t encountered true threats for months. And if they did, they’d spot it miles away, pack up and leave before the wave of machines crashed by. Runners didn’t care to break down buildings or loot trinkets, so when the threat had passed by, the humans would return and find all their items left alone.

That would change tonight.

Silently, she fed the data back to her army, giving instructions on what targets to take out first. The full layout of their scattered army was clear in her mind.

The feather then descended down, gliding silently to land before the small fort, right on the path to their simple gate. There, she stayed, waiting for the humans to notice.

“You think they’ll simply surrender? Give up on their duties and vows?” Tenisent asked, by her side. The wraith remained translucent, arms crossed.

“Yes.” She said. “I predict there is a high chance the majority will surrender once they understand the option exists.”

He grunted. “Humans are not so weak. We’re more resilient than you expect.”

She hummed at that. “Perhaps you were. I’ve seen your memories. And I’ve come to understand humans are different from one group to another, even if they all wear the same form.”

“Convinced of yourself.” He tutted. “Never a good sign. Pride comes before the fall.”

“Do you know what I did to prepare for this moment?” To’Wrathh asked. When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I learned. I know their language. Their traditions. The geography of their lands. Which outpost to tame. And which to burn. I know them more than they know me. And I know myself more than they know themselves.”

“Self delusion.” He shrugged. “All you’ve learned, it’s been from books or rats. They will fight, and they will never surrender. I hope it comes at a steep cost.”

“These are not warriors.” She countered, waving a hand to the wall ahead. “They dress like them, act like them, believe themselves to be even. But they come here to hunt small packs of machines for power cells. They avoid larger packs, or true danger. They don’t travel with traders or take escort jobs. You don’t know these people, Tenisent. You’ve never had to know them. They’re no soldiers. They’re simple hunters. And when faced with the threat of death, they will fold.”

“Maybe when your face is pressed up against the metal earth and ground up to scrap under a boot, then you’ll understand humans further. And I’ll thank the gods I will be there to watch you crushed and broken.”

“Charming.” She said. “How do you handle disappointment?”

He remained silent at that. Glaring at the fortress ahead.

It didn’t take them very long to notice her. The wings she kept outstretched made her stand out from the distance, while the rest of her body would surely trigger alarms the moment they paid more attention. The wide halo of metal, floating lazily at an angle above her was just as noticeable from a distance.

She saw them begin to panic, running around the camp, many taking a quick look over the wall to stare at her, before disappearing back down. The turrets powered up. The camp grew lively with shouts.

She remained waiting. The turrets were easily in range of her. Not that those would be any danger to her of course. Still, they remained pointed directly at her. Warning sirens within her mind flashed bright, alerting her weapons were locked on to her form.

It took them another ten minutes before the small gates opened, and a group of ten knights walked out.

One held onto a hastily cobbled white flag, stepping carefully across the path to meet her. The rest remained solem, keeping a sharp lookout around them. Hands on the hilts of their blades.

“Uhh, truce. Truce!” The one with a white flag said as he got closer, stepping out of the group, nervous. “I’ve been sent to f-find out what you want.”

As expected so far, she closed her wings, and drew them closer to her hips. Inside, her countermeasure systems flared to life, easily breaking through the simple encryption these knights were using. This far out, they had been lax with their protocols.

“I am To’Wrathh. A feather in service to the violet lady, charged to take or destroy your city. I was not given further directions on how to accomplish my goal, so it is within my ability to allow for mercy.” She said. Her voice carried to the messenger, and far further past him. Every knight within the settlement could hear her. Every speaker or radio within was broadcasting her discussion.

As for the messenger, he gulped, glanced behind himself for reassurance, then looked around. The plains were empty. There was no army in sight. No attack, save for herself. He slowly turned back to look at her, growing slightly more confident. “Uhh, that’s not going to happen. I don’t speak for the commander, but he’s not going to accept this.”

The other nine behind him shuffled around, as if unsure what to do next. Some glanced at one another, looking for direction.

To’Wrathh tilted her head. “I have not come to debate. I have come to take. I will start with this hunting lodge. Throw down your weapons, kneel, and your life will be spared. I give this offer freely to all who hear this message, to be used at any moment within the next three hours. Any who choose to surrender will be allowed to leave once stripped of equipment. You will return to your city. I give my word of this. All machines in this region obey me. They will not attack nor bar your path home.”

The Feather drew out her weapons. A longsword in her right, inscribed with the fractal of division, the common version. It hummed in the dim artificial moonlight, vibrating softly, whispering destruction. She’d had this one made just for her, while her left hand withdrew a knife with the same power. The soul fractal that housed her artificial soul deep within her flared further into life, reaching out for the captive soul besides her. The fractal of Unity flared to life, and she used it to unite Tenisent’s skills with her own.

Teniscent grimaced at her side, trying to claw her grip away. He held for a moment. Then vanished away, drawn back inside her.

“Should any take up my offer in bad faith, to pretend their surrender, they will be marked for death. This too, I give my word.”

The emissary took a few steps back, dropping his flag, hand reaching out to his own blade as a reflex. “Wai-wait wait wait! Is this some kind of joke? Machines don’t just negotiate, what’s going on?”

The sound of a blade being drawn triggered the rest of the knights to draw out their own. They all took different stances, keeping their eyes on her. Behind the group, far back at the fortress, sounds of chaos suddenly rang out.

And then the screaming began.

Claws filled with occult blue ripped through the metal ground, opening up carefully dug tunnels. Runners sprinted out of the ground, scaling the walls with alacrity. A few knights had the good reflex to open fire. Most were too tied up with the same event happening within their very midst.

The first targets had been the turrets. Those, the Runners rushed, ripping the weapons appart or throwing the operators out. Some had been quick enough to start opening fire, but alone they had no chance of surviving for long. Howls and screams began to ring out from the fortress as more and more machines overran the camp from the inside out.

“Surrender. Or die.” To’Wrathh said. She meant it too.

The ten knights circled around her, each unwilling to be the first one to strike. Each unwilling to be the first one to surrender either.

“Come on you fucks.” One of them sneered. “She’s alone. There’s ten of us. Let’s just rush her, stab her. It’s not hard.”

“Yeah, but she’s a fuckin’ feather man.” Another said, “Deathless fight those things, not us.”

“Yeh!” A third said to the side. “If you’re so sure of yourself, why don’t you go and take the first stab at her?”

A shorter one in the back seemed to be breathing rapidly, chestplate drawing in and out. Then he screamed. “I’m no fuckin’ coward! The hell with surrendering to a fuckin’ scraphead! Steel rusts but the flesh rebuilds, my mind over metal!”

She saw him charge, sword taking a rooted stance in his hand. Saw him close the distance. Saw how the rest of the knight remained behind, a hairbreadth away from joining in.

He was young. While she couldn’t see his face due to the relic armor helmet, she could tell the boy was likely within his early twenties at the latest. The stance he took was sloppy, no focus on his legwork, though he held the sword correctly. He’d been trained, enough to have a semblance of it.

To’Wrathh took a step forward, memories of a different life flowing through her mind. She took upon the stance of Nagareru, flowing like water. Feet light, she reached out to him, watching as he shifted his blade to block. With speed and alacrity, she twirled around the defence, striking out with the full length of her blade across his chest. The shield lit up bright, absorbing the hit.

The Feather followed through, twisting a knife into his back, further breaking down his shield. The boy tried to swing back at her, a large overly telegraphed attack she had no trouble ducking under, while her sword flashed out again. This time, the boy’s shields cracked, the Occult blade cutting through a corner of his chest. Metal and flesh vanished behind the blade.

He took a step back, as if surprised. His head turned down to look at his wound, watching as the red blood began to pour out staining the metal, before his reflexes warned him. He had just enough time to look up as To’Wrathh’s sword ran right through his helmet, in and out, without the slightest resistance.

The body slumped down on its knees and then fell to the right with a dull clunk. The fight had lasted a few seconds at most, with the majority of the time being spent on that short pause just before she’d ended his life.

There was silence among the undersider knights, many of them taking a step back.

She’d killed humans before when she was a spider. Many in fact. There hadn’t been a single one that had ever escaped her once she’d claimed them as her’s.

All except for one, but she would deal with him soon enough.

This, however, was beyond what her old body had been capable of. To’Wrathh felt powerful.

“Surrender.” She said to the surrounding knights. “Or die.”

A wave passed through them. Then, as if there was some unworded command, several charged forward as one, swords reaching out to her. To’Wrathh licked her lips as she hunched down slightly, feeling a thrill come alive inside. The lady had made her kind to be killers at heart. This… this was what she had been made to do.

Her blade sung through the air, her leaps brought her all the space she needed, wings stretching out as she jumped. They tried to follow behind, using their own armors to leap far higher than humans were ever meant to do. And inside her domain, they quickly realized their mistake.

She killed the second before he landed back on the ground, once more her blade neatly punctured a hole in the helmet, while she pushed the dead body back down with her sharp legs.

With lightness that lied about her weight, she landed without a sound on the ground as the rest of the knights hit the plains like metal paperweights.

“Surrender.” She told them again. “Or die.”

Fury took them. They charged again, yelling incoherently, desperate to at least do some amount of damage.

To’Wrathh was faster. Her eyes saw weakness to exploit in every move. Their schools of combat were too generic. Made to tackle a wide range of possible shapes and monsters, and highly off-key against a foe like herself. Undersiders didn’t fight each other with the same ferocity that the surface dwellers were forced to.

They might laugh at the barbaric surface dwellers, who lived miserable lives of poverty, always hungry, living in tight cramped spaces, never truly warm.

But it was well known that only the imperial knights or a puritan blade-priest could stand and defeat surface knights.

Everyone knew surface dwellers were not to be messed with. Child soldiers who live and breath combat, wild, feral, and taught to kill without hesitation. Thieves at best. Emotionless murderers at worse.

Not completely inaccurate.

The third one she killed had tried to tackle her to the ground. She’d twisted under him, flowing away, all the while raking his side with the dagger. The shield broke, and her blade whipped through the air, penetrating from the back of his neck and driving straight up through his head and out. The body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as she withdrew the blade.

The fourth was killed a moment after. He’s tried two swings at her, which she had dodged all the while stabbing out with knife and blade. The moment his shield broke, panic ripped into him, his stance faltered, he tripped backwards falling flat on the ground, raising a hand up to shield his face, screaming in terror the whole time.

It made no difference of course.

Her occult longsword pierced right through the palm of his hand and dove down through his helmet. The body jerked, that outstretched, now limp, hand cut itself free from her blade as gravity brought it back down.

The fifth had been smarter. He’d tried to strike at her back.

The surface dwellers had dozens of different counters to exactly that situation. It was such a drilled in instinct, none of the three combat schools placed any of these moves above basic instruction. Any novice should know these counters by heart within the year.

And of course, with her stolen skills, she claimed all of that knowledge for herself. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ n0vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

To’Wrathh ducked and weaved around his ill-thought strike, leaving her blade positioned to catch his chest. Disbalancing him with a tap of her dagger and a well placed trip. His own inertia had him run and push against the longblade. He flinched back, realizing his shields were rapidly draining as the blade remained firmly in contact with his armor.

A snakelike strike from To’Wrathh, tapping his sides, whittled away the last of his shields as he continued to backtrack.

The man lifted his arms straight up, letting his occult blade go free, yelling all the while, “I surrender! I surrender, please, oh goddess, please! Don’t kill me!”

The feather halted her strike at the last moment, the longsword tip hovering with a slight quiver, right before his helmet, mere inches away.

She tilted her head with curiosity, withdrawing the blade back slowly. “I accept.” To’Wrathh felt satisfied. Now the humans had seen how real and present the threat she posed to them all was. All the speed of a machine. All of the skill of Tenisent Winterscar. No undersider had a chance against her. And they’d also seen a way out.

The rest of the knights stared at the sobbing man, now collapsed on his knees, hyperventilating at how close he had come to dying. They gawked up to To’Wrathh, now wiping the gore off the flat of her blade, with little hurry. The unasked question lingering in the air of who was next.

The realization that this was not some well practiced hunt flooded through their minds. How one moment, they would be here and alive, and the next, find a blade slipped through their skulls and then nothing.

Occult longswords clattered on the ground. Hands slowly raised up, hesitantly, as the survivors all took a few steps back.

The Feather nodded, sheathing her weapons. Tamery had been right. She peered over to the fortress in the background, where smoke and fire had already begun to rise. All sounds of clashing blades and screaming had come to a stop. Only the sound of burning tents and campfires.

The first of many.

Next chapter - You should gloat

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