Chapter 2

Quest: Rescue the Convoy

The horizon had taken on the promised glow, but Bea was far too exhausted to appreciate it. Just as she was too exhausted to really take note of the ruins that had sprung up around them like ancient tombstones. Every muscle in her body had finished protesting long ago and now just trembled and threatened to give out at any second.

At first all she felt was relief when the cry went up from the front of the line. She stepped back from the rear of the cart and lifted a trembling hand to push back the hair that had escaped her scarf. Behind her Ebla and Cortur were carefully lowering the arms of their cart, rolling their shoulders wearily as they left the road to get a better view of what had halted the caravan.

Bea trailed in their wake, still unconcerned as she sucked in lungfuls of freshening evening air, resting her fists on her hips as she finally took a moment to admire the skies now striped with orange tinted in gold. Then an almost deafening roar shook the very air around her and her head snapped around, confusion quickly turning to rising panic. Up ahead, towards the front of the convoy, she caught a glimpse of hulking metal and when the machine let out another mechanical roar it sounded horribly close and frighteningly familiar. Her feet sank leadenly into the sand, lethargy seeping insidiously into her limbs.

Screams and shouts arose all around her and in the midst of it she heard Ebla voice behind her shout, "Behemoth!" Chills swept up her spine but she couldn't make her body respond. She was only vaguely aware of the others as they began to run, scrambling towards the relative safety of a nearby ruin. Of course they'd come across machines previously on their journey, some they had passed by quite closely. Any that took special notice of the convoy had been dealt with easily by the guards. Darold had been sure to keep them well clear of any truly dangerous machines, often adding extra hours to the trip in order to keep the cargo and its human escort safe. So how had a Behemoth, a lumbering mound of machinery, managed to get this close?

Crashing and crunching noises caused her breath to first tighten painfully in her chest, then erupt in panicked pants as she watched destruction descend on her in a wave. The Behemoth was charging down the line of carts, its triangular head lowered close to the ground as it ploughed into one wagon after another, tossing them aside like children's toys. The ground vibrated beneath her boots, sending tremors up her legs until her teeth chattered.

"Bea! MOVE!" But her feet remained stuck in the sand, Cortur's frantic voice blended in with the other shouts and screams until she was certain she'd somehow been flung back in time and thrust into the Sun-Ring where a faceless crowd howled for blood.

Hot air lifted the strands of her hair as the mountainous machine passed, close enough to touch. The cart she'd been pushing, the one that held her precious cargo, flipped neatly upward and sailed over her head, spraying trunks and boxes as it went. One of them caught her neatly along her side and the world was sent spinning.

Erend stepped out onto the balcony, automatically finding his usual spot and leaning his forearms against the cracked and faded wood as he took his first decent breath in what felt like forever. As he looked out over the camp he felt some of the tension ease in his chest. This was his favourite time, when the heat began to dissipate and the lights of the old city became clearer as the sun sank to the horizon. The sky was awash with the colours of the forge and all around him Hidden Ember took on a peaceful glow. All he needed was a mug of scrapper sap in his hand and the evening would be perfect. Or as near to it as things got these days anyway.

Behind him he could hear people winding up for the day, laying down tools and talking quietly amongst themselves as they followed their noses to the cooks corner to see what was for dinner. Soon it would become rowdier when a few cups of ale had been drunk. Singing and an argument or two were sure to break out, this was an Oseram camp after all.

The Tower of Tears, while undoubtedly a ruin, was the only building that currently provided any kind of shelter and had naturally become the heart of the new settlement. Stemmur, Morland and Abadund had set up shop on the ground level when they first arrived and it continued to be where a great majority of work was being done to get the fledgling village up and running. Months had passed and it still didn't look like much, basically a bunch of tents erected around a dilapidated tower, but Morlund had big plans for this place. Plans that would take a great leap forward once the long awaited supply convoy finally arrived. The first of many.

Erend sighed, a frown creasing his brow as he looked around at the men and women working so hard on a dream that was literally being built on sand. He still had trouble wrapping his brain around this place when he thought about it too hard. The trio of showmen knew exactly what was coming down the line, Erend had been straight with them right from the get go. He desperately needed their help to get the word out to the many far flung Oseram tribes and he hadn't been able to find any way to sugarcoat it, being the blunt instrument he was. War was coming and their odds were not good. Yet, even with an apocalypse looming, they still insisted on continuing with Hidden Ember. Out of the three Morlund made the most sense, being a die-hard dreamer as well as a tinker and performer, but the fact that Abadund was going along with all of this still made him scratch his head. The guy was the tightest shard counter in history, yet he was willing to sink everything they had into a city that would take years, decades to build when quite possibly all they had was months…

Thoughts of Nemesis had him looking skyward. The stars weren't out yet but he could always feel them looming overhead. His time at Base had been a whirlwind of information, he'd spent most days literally cramming as much as he could into his thick brain, and while a lot of it had been fascinating, most had been frightening. He'd chased Aloy all over the bloody map, offering his help at every turn, and when she finally accepted he'd damn near had his brain blown out his ears. Elizabet Sobek, Project Zero Dawn, spaceships, other planets, Far Zeniths and a vengeful AI that was bent on the destruction of Earth. It was a lot to wrap his head around and more than enough to make him wish he was back in the time of the Blood Raids when life was simple.

"What's he yelling about now?" Erend started as he was pulled from his thoughts, turning his head to blink at Abadund who'd materialised beside him seemingly out of thin air. The guy had a perpetual long suffering air that Erend was painfully familiar with, although coming from the showman-turned-shard counter, it was rarely aimed in his direction. Abadund saved his most vexed expressions and tones for Morlund.

Following Abadund's gaze had him looking skyward again and, sure enough, floating far overhead was the contraption Morlund had named the 'great elevating orb'. An enormous balloon filled with hot air with a basket tethered beneath. Erend gave a shudder. No matter how many times the overly enthusiastic tinker had tried to convince him to take a ride he always declined, very little would persuade him to go floating around in that death trap. He didn't care how great the view was from up there, his boots were going to remain on solid ground. He'd seen far too many Oseram inventions explode, not to mention the fact that this thing's maiden voyage had almost seen Aloy and Morland both eaten by Glinthawks. Hard pass.

"Is he…did he just say convoy?" Concern tinged the edges of Abadund's tone, knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the railing. "As in the supply convoy carrying essential supplies accompanied by much needed workers that was due to arrive this very afternoon?" The two men squinted upward in concentration at the tinker who was waving his arms wildly, gesturing dramatically towards the north then cupping his hands around his mouth to yell again.

Erend held his breath and finally managed to catch a snippet of Morlund's voice over the low rumble of the burner. He nodded once, turning to Abadund with a grim expression. "I heard it too. Something's definitely happening to the supply convoy and, judging by his flapping, it's nothing good."

"Well, don't just stand there!" Abadund's expression had turned frantic, he began shoving at Erend's shoulder, prodding him towards the ramp that led down to the sand. "Go! Go rescue the convoy!"

"Keep your britches on, I'm going." Erend growled, reaching for his hammer and slinging it over his shoulder as he roared for his men to join him. Immediately a flurry of activity erupted around the tents and inside the tower as the freebooters jumped up, abandoning food and conversation in favour of their weapons, leaping to follow their captain. As they shrugged on armour mutterings passed between them and, by the time they fell in behind Erend, a basic understanding had been reached that they were embarking on a rescue mission.

"Want me to call in the men on patrol?" Aldur was right beside Erend as he clomped heavily across the sand in the direction Morlund had indicated.

"No time," Erend grunted as he broke into a run, a dozen fighters right on his heels. The exercise felt good after too much time sitting on his arse lately. And if a small grin of anticipation pulled at his mouth…well it had been a long, boring day.

The next thing Bea knew she was spitting sand, ears ringing as she tried to breathe against the pain that lanced through her torso. She lifted her head and through watering eyes saw that the caravan, or what was left of it, was now a good few paces away. On the other side of the wreckage was the Behemoth, its stubby legs churning at the sand as it charged towards the crumbled ruins of an old world building, a familiar mechanical whir giving warning of impending impact. She sat up a little, blinking to clear her vision, and saw that a continuous stream of arrows was peppering the machine from within the safety of the structure. She could hear the cries of the freebooters and mercenaries as they called to each other, Darold's familiar shout carrying over all as he screamed out orders.

Then her eyes widened as, from around the side of the building, a second machine leaped into view, sand spraying out in a wide arc as its claws scrabbled for purchase. The Ravager emitted a high-pitched whine and a split second later an explosion of blue light arced out, wriggling sharply over the soft ground and up the walls of the Oseram's shelter. The fast moving machine was pure death and the sight of it finally set her limbs in motion, adrenalin dulling the pain in her head and ribs as she stumbled clumsily to her feet and looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. Two of them, there were two killing machines attacking the caravan.

Her attention caught on one of the overturned carts lying drunkenly in the sand a few dozen paces behind her and she staggered towards it, darting around strewn cargo as she made for cover. It was almost completely turned over and wedged heavily into the soft ground but, as she neared, she saw that the back end was lifted so that there was a gap she could crawl under. The raised edges kept the base of the cart high enough that she could crouch beneath and she almost sobbed with relief as she scrambled into the small space within, curling in on herself and closing her eyes as she listened to the sounds of fighting that continued to rage outside her hiding place.

Time dragged on but the battle didn't seem to be winding down. Occasionally a spray of laser fire would arc past her hiding place, a sharp metallic whine that snapped overhead and had her trying to wedge herself deeper into her hiding place. Every enraged roar from the Behemoth caused her breath to jam in her throat, she could feel the heavy shockwaves reverberate through the air around her as it engaged its gravitational field and flinched in anticipation of the sounds of destruction that followed.

So, when a different clicking and whirring sounded close by, her eyes snapped open of their own accord. Something outside her hiding place made an inquisitive, almost purring sound. A rapid succession of beeps followed by a rhythmic pulsing. Bea's focus narrowed, all her attention drawn to the opening created by the raised edge of the cart. She leaned forward ever so slowly, trying to get a better look without giving away her hiding place. What she saw had her freezing all over again.

Just a few steps away from the cart was a burrower, likely attracted by the sound of fighting. As she watched its lithe body turned this way and that, the one huge eye set into its bulbous head glowing amber as it looked around curiously. It was so close she could see each claw on its stubby front legs as it raised up on its haunches and began scanning the debris that littered the area. She froze, every atom in her being locking in place. If the little machine sensed her it would attack immediately. In her mind's eye she could see it diving into the sand as easily as water, before coming up beneath her to tear her apart.

The burrower fell back to all fours, letting out another series of chirps. An answering call sounded from somewhere just out of sight, then another, and her stomach sank even further when she realised that a pack of them had come to see what all the noise was about.

As slowly as she could, Bea shifted to get a better look in the other direction, back towards the fighting. She could see that the Behemoth and Ravager still had the Oseram pinned down, the two giant machines worrying at the building like rats as they tore furrows into the ancient walls, blasting it with electrical bursts, laser fire and boulders. The men and women within were holding their own though. She could see that the Ravager was limping, favouring its front right paw and missing its cannon. The Behemoth wasn't faring much better, spitting sparks as the archers worried at the protective plating that kept its storage unit attached. It was taking time, but they were in a good position to walk away from this alive.

Her own safety was heavily in question though. Bea turned her attention back to the burrower that had her pinned as she began to carefully withdraw deeper into the safety of the overturned cart, keeping her movements slow and careful so as not to draw its notice. There was no way she could venture out into the open, she was utterly defenceless even against these small machines. She didn't have armour or a weapon and she couldn't flee, even if she knew which direction to go she was incapable of outrunning the burrowers. No, her best option was to stay put and say a prayer to whatever gods were out there listening.

When the amber light of the burrower's eye suddenly flashed red, a wave of dread caused cold sweat to break out on Bea's brow. She fully expected it to turn its gaze on her, sure that it had somehow sensed her despite her care to stay low and quiet, but instead it dropped into a defensive crouch, seeming to focus on something outside her line of sight. A decidedly human roar erupted nearby, growing in volume and culminating in a heavy crunch that she instantly recognised as metal hitting metal. Her eyes widened as a wave of shrapnel blew past the opening of her hiding place and she let out a small cry, immediately clapping her hands over her mouth in fear that the burrower would hear her. She needn't have worried, the machine was completely distracted by whatever or whomever had just arrived. It flinched, dancing backwards as it was peppered with a rain of parts from what she could only assume was the remains of one of its comrades. Then it let out a low, angry chur as it danced from side to side, tail thumping warningly against the ground.

"C'mere you little spit," a rough voice growled and in response the machine began to turn in a tight circle as it readied an attack. But, before it could complete the spin and lash out with its tail, the heavy head of a giant hammer crashed down, diving its head deep into the sand. There was a crunching pop as its large eye shattered and the burrower convulsed once before shuddering to stillness.

"Ha! Now it's your turn!" The man called out again, sounding extremely pleased as he addressed the remaining machine. The hammer was lifted again and disappeared from sight shortly before a huge pair of boots came into view, unhurriedly kicking aside the carcass of the burrower then planting themselves deliberately in a wide stance facing away from her.

Bea lowered her hand from her mouth, curiosity somehow overtaking fear as she angled her head in an attempt to get a better look at her rescuer. When all she could make out was long leather tassets over brown pants she scooted closer without thinking, needing to see who had just completely destroyed two hostile machines with a few swings of a maul.

As she got into a better position Bea craned her neck, this time able to see that the man standing just outside her hiding place was tall, heavy set and broad shouldered. She instantly recognised his plated vest and armoured gloves as vanguard steel, the thick belt and orange striped shirt identifying him as Oseram even though the belly plate that would identify his specific clan was currently hidden from her. He held the war hammer casually across his body as if it weighed nothing, rolling his shoulders as he called out to the burrower that skipped angrily back and forth a dozen or so paces away. "C'mon, don't be shy!"

The machine obliged, whipping around and scooping up a buried rock at the same time before launching it straight at the stranger. With a loud cry the man ran forward, slamming the keg sized rock right out of the air then reversing the swing as he leapt forward, collecting the burrower in the side and sending it somersaulting away. It rolled to a stop and attempted to leap back to its feet but was barely able to stagger a few steps before the man was on it again, raising his hammer high then bringing it crashing down on the canisters bristling from its back. Once more there was the sound of glass shattering and the little machine slumped to the ground,dead.

All other sounds seemed to fade away. Bea watched, awestruck, as the man turned and she finally got a good look at him. Her hand came back to her mouth as she finally got a look at his face, a sense of familiarity gripping her. Grey eyes beneath dark brows, a strong chin framed by a thick moustache and sideburns. His head was shaved except for a flattened mohawk and she could see the sun glint off the thick loop that pierced his right ear.

Seemingly unaware of her eyes on him, the man leaned on his hammer, panting a little as he surveyed the damage he'd wrought with a wide smile. After a second he straightened, his expression sobering as he seemed to remember something. He began looking around again in earnest, gaze running over the area as though searching for something. After a moment he raised one gloved hand and gently tapped one thick finger against his temple. A circle of blue light appeared where he'd touched and Bea was surprised anew, what on earth was that attached to the side of his head?

Swinging his hammer up onto his shoulder once more in an unconscious show of strength, the man frowned at the ground at his feet before letting out a satisfied sounding "Ha!" as he seemed to spot what he was looking for. He lifted his chin and suddenly she found herself pinned beneath his gaze as he looked right at her. Without meaning to she drew back a little. How could he possibly see her in the darkness beneath the cart from that distance?

"Hey," he called out, holding his free hand palm out in a reassuring gesture as he advanced on her hiding place. "It's ok, I got these little ones and my men are helping to take care of the big guys right now. You can come out."

Bea couldn't move, she just watched as he came right up to the opening, walking slowly as though approaching a frightened animal. When once again all she could see was his boots she heard the dull thud of him leaning his hammer against the side of the cart, then he was right there, crouching down and blocking out the light as he peered in at her. His eyes aren't grey, she thought to herself in wonder, they're the lightest blue.

"Hi," he said simply, his deep voice gentle as he extended his gloved hand to her with a smile. She hesitated, hardly able to believe what was happening. Had she conjured him out of thin air? Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his hand, only one way to find out. She reached out and took the hand of Erend Vanguardsman.