By the fourth day in the cave, we had more or less settled in.
I sat on the cold stone, leaning my back against Zeno. His chassis was barely warm—the reactor was working in "smoldering" mode. Ephraim, by some miracle, had cleaned the wound of pus and shreds of tissue using boiling water and some bitter root. Now there was a dark crust on the shoulder, where the steel mounting pins went in.
"Eat," Ephraim handed me a piece of fish baked over coals. "This is the last of it."
"Zeno," I called.
"Yes, Iron," Zeno replied. "March estimation: twelve hours."
"The City of Bridges is three hundred and forty kilometers away," I chewed the dry fish. "If we do twenty kilometers a day, that’s seventeen days."
"Logical solution: search for an alternative carbon source," Zeno slowly turned his head. "My combustion chamber can process charcoal or peat. Efficiency will drop by 60%, but it will allow continued movement."
Ephraim’s face darkened sharply. He stood up, went to the cave entrance, and looked for a long time at the snow-covered firs below.
"When I was fishing today, I saw a mark," he said without turning. "A fresh notch on a pine tree. A 'Black Cross'."
"Order trackers?" I asked.
"The very ones. If they found the drag marks by the stream—they’ll be here by sunset."
[THREAT ANALYSIS]
Probability of detection: 89%
Status: High risk
Recommendation: Immediate change of position.
"We have to leave now," I tried to stand. "Zeno, march mode."
"Iron, my left knee is locked due to mechanical damage to the servo drive. Mobility is limited," Zeno began to rise slowly, bracing his hands against the cave walls. Dust and small stones showered from the ceiling. "I will use my arms as additional supports. Energy consumption will increase by 15%."
"I don't care about the consumption. We can't stay here."
Ephraim quickly gathered our meager belongings into a sack. He hid the Inquisitor's map under his jacket.
"Ephraim, strap it to the belt," I pointed at the prosthesis. "So it doesn't dangle. It’s throwing off my balance."
He silently pulled my arm tight with a leather strap, pressing it against my ribs.
The frost wasn't strong—about ten degrees—but because of the humidity from the stream, our clothes instantly turned stiff as boards. Zeno threw his long arms forward, braced his fists in the snow, and pulled his damaged leg along.
"Can’t we be quieter?" Ephraim hissed, looking around.
"Friction of metal on metal in the jammed joint produces acoustic noise of 80 decibels," Zeno responded dispassionately. "Lubrication is absent. Surfaces are deformed."
"We're easy prey for these trackers," the old man muttered, catching me under my left arm.
We moved along the slope, hugging the dense underbrush. Zeno sank up to his waist, which forced him to literally dig himself out with his hands.
"Stop," I raised my hand.
We had only gone a kilometer, but I was already breathless.
"Zeno," I approached him.
"Clarify request, Iron."
"You're putting too much load on the surface area. Simply put, you're sinking. Ephraim, cut some spruce branches. Make shields."
While I sat on a fallen trunk, trying to stop the trembling in my knees, he quickly cut the branches and, using the remains of the ropes from the sled, fashioned two large fans. We tied them to Zeno’s feet and fists.
"Analysis... contact area increased by 3.2 times. Immersion depth in snow reduced to ten centimeters. Efficiency increased."
"Keep moving."
We walked for four hours. The sun disappeared. Shadows grew long and sharp. At some point, Ephraim stopped and crouched, pulling me down with him.
"Quiet..." he exhaled.
I followed his finger. On the top of the neighboring hill, about three kilometers away, a light flared up. It blinked three times and went out.
"Signal fire," I whispered. "They have a magic compass. They’re tracking us by our thermal trail."
"Iron, my core radiates a thermal signature that is impossible to hide in this climate," Zeno froze, standing out as a dark mass against the snow.
"No time for rest. If we cross this ridge," Ephraim pointed to a steep slope ahead, "we’ll hit the Valley of Winds. There’s always a blizzard there. It’ll hide our trail, and the snow will cover Zeno’s track in ten minutes. But the climb… kid, you won't last. And he..." the old man nodded at Zeno.
I looked at Zeno: "Can you do it?"
"Probability of successful ascent at current energy and damage levels: 14.8%. Probability of critical system failure: 85.2%."
"Still better to die on the climb than by the Inquisition," I walked over to him. "Lift me onto your shoulders. Mind the working shoulder only."
Zeno slowly lowered a manipulator. His fingers wrapped around my body. He lifted me and sat me on his nape, directly over the reactor compartment. I threw my left arm around his neck, pressing my cheek against the armor.
"Let's go, Ephraim. To the Valley of Winds."
Zeno bit into the slope. His "snowshoes" made of branches had long since broken; now he just slammed his fists into the icy ground beneath the snow.
[WARNING: Core temperature critical. Threat of wiring meltdown.]
[Skill "Will to Live": Active. Extension of cognitive functions...]
"We’re... almost..." Ephraim crawled alongside, clutching at roots.
When we reached the crest, the wind hit with such force that Zeno nearly toppled over backward. I gripped his neck tighter. Before us lay the white abyss of the Valley of Winds. Ten paces ahead, nothing could be seen. Snow flew horizontally, blinding us and filling our mouths.
"Down!" I shouted, over the roar. "Go!"
We tumbled down the slope.
When everything stopped, I was lying on something hard. Zeno lay nearby, his "face" buried in a snowdrift.
"Ephraim!" I tried to shout.
"I’m here..." a hand appeared from the snow nearby. The old man emerged, shaking himself and coughing. "Ribs seem intact."
I crawled to Zeno. "Hey... turn on."
Silence. The wind howled above us, rolling waves of snow.
Zeno’s eyepiece suddenly flickered dimly.
"Power... 0.4%," the speaker whispered. "Systems... entering... standby mode..."
"No, no, no!" I started pounding on his armor. "You can't now! We need shelter!"
"Iron... ahead... five hundred meters... stable... thermal anomaly. Cave... or... artificial structure. Go... to my... beacon..."
From his chest, a thin laser beam shot out, cutting through the blizzard and indicating the direction.
"Ephraim, grab his arm!" I jumped up, forgetting the pain. "We have to drag him!"
"Are you crazy?! Carry him! In this wind!" Ephraim looked at me as if I were insane.
"You have the artifact! So just pull!"
We gripped his manipulators. We dragged him through the storm, following the fading laser.
After the beam finally went out, we bumped into a wall. One made of smooth metal.
"What is this..." Ephraim touched the surface.
I looked up. Looming above us, vanishing into the white haze, stood a colossal support.
"It's..."
The First Bridge of the Progenitors.
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