I sat behind a rocky outcrop fifty meters up the trail from the mill.
"They have entered visual contact zone," Zeno said.
He stood further down the slope, hidden by the shadow of an old alder. He hadn't moved for three hours, conserving the remains of his charge.
I peered into the forest.
Between the trees, three floating spheres of blue light flickered a meter above the ground, illuminating the path. People walked behind them. Three of them. Two in light leather armor with short swords. And one in the center, in a gray hooded cloak.
"You're done," I whispered to myself.
They reached a fallen tree. Under a layer of pine needles lay my first "pipe." A copper shell stuffed with the gray junk Ephraim and I had been boiling for three days.
I yanked the thin cord tied to the friction fuse.
P-s-s-s-sh-sh…
One of them instantly raised his staff; the sphere above his head flared brighter, ionizing the air.
CRACK.
The copper tube ripped along the seam, and the accumulated pressure blasted a stream of searing gas into the pursuers' faces, mixed with sharp gravel and fragments of old nails.
"My eyes!" one of them screamed, falling to his knees and covering his face with his hands.
The second managed to jump back—but his left leg plunged into a deep pit Zeno had dug the day before. A bone crunched. He shrieked and tumbled onto his side.
The mage reacted fastest of all. A "Radiant Field" unfolded around him—a translucent dome designed to reflect spells.
"Good luck against a cloud of thick, caustic white smoke that has already enveloped the trail," I said.
His "Light-chasers" began to dart around in the smoke, reflecting off every particle of soot and sulfur.
"Now."
I slid down the slope and landed heavily.
[Warning: Traumatic shock. Level: low. Mitigation—]
I flew out of the smoke straight at him. He heard my footsteps and threw up his hand. A beam of light struck from his fingers.
The smoke acted as a dielectric, scattering part of the discharge, but the rest hit me in the chest. I was thrown back, the smell of burning leather and fur hitting my nose. If not for the steel plate I'd taken off Richter and hidden under my jacket, I'd be dead already.
The mage stood five paces away. He began raising his staff for a second strike.
"Die, scum!" he spat.
I realized I wouldn't have time to stand up. My left hand slipped on the wet grass.
I rolled onto my side and hurled my prosthesis forward. Centrifugal force dragged my body after it. The claw—stiff from the frost and frozen grease—slammed into the mage's shin.
Crunch.
He screamed, losing his balance. His spell went into the sky. And he collapsed into the mud next to me.
But even so, he tried to poke his staff into my eye; I wheezed and pinned him down with all my weight.
I grabbed his throat with my left hand, and placed my iron one on his chest.
"Drop... the barrier..." I wheezed.
He tried to say something, but I pressed harder.
At that moment, Zeno stepped out of the shadows.
His appearance was quiet, but terrifying. Every step was accompanied by a strained, whistling screech.
The seeker with the broken leg tried to draw a knife. He stepped forward, and his foot came down on his arm. The seeker lost consciousness from the shock without even a cry.
Zeno stopped next to us. His lens blinked dimly with green.
"Energy consumption: fourteen percent in two minutes," he boomed. "Friction in the joints exceeds permissible parameters by two hundred percent."
I let go of the mage. He lay there, gasping for air, with crushed ribs.
"Zeno, we need to leave. The main forces..."
I fell silent. In the ensuing quiet, a strange sound echoed.
Click. Click.
Zeno tried to take a step toward the mill, but his left leg froze mid-step. A sharp metallic screech cut the air, sparks showered. The golem swayed, barely catching himself on the rock.
"Jammed," Zeno stated. "Gunpowder residue mixed with the grease. My knee joint is locked."
[Status: 8%. Critical fatigue. "The Will to Live" is holding consciousness at the limit.]
Ephraim appeared from the darkness by the mill, running with a torch.
"Help me," I said. "Grab Zeno by the arm. We need to drag him back. We have an hour before the rest arrive."
"Zeno," I pressed my forehead against his cold armor. "Do you have a plan B?"
"No," he said.
After a brief silence, I said:
"Ephraim, haul all the fat we have left." I began unbuckling the prosthesis straps to give my back a rest. "And my toolbox."
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