The First Book of Ore: The Foundry's Edge (25 page)

“Especially for business-mehkies such as yourselves,” she stated flatly.

“Precisely. Why jeopardize our livelihood and endanger future contracts with the Foundry?” Mr. Pynch asked.

“Because you know this is wrong.”

“Wrong? The world be wrong. And it not be our obligation to fix it all.”

“Of course not,” she answered. “Because there's no money in it for you.”

Dollop looked from Mr. Pynch to Phoebe, unsure.

Mr. Pynch growled. “Master Micah, resolve this. Or we will abscond with yer payment and abandon you here.”

Phoebe had heard enough. She turned and marched away.

Mr. Pynch puffed up, and the Marquis narrowed the shutters of his opticle. They swept around Phoebe from either side and blocked her path.

“Me apologies, but we cannot allow it.”

Every muscle in her body went taut.

“Outta the way, Tubby!”

A purple light flared as Micah cut in, wielding his Lodestar. The two mehkans took a wary step back. Phoebe looked at Micah, astonished.

“You're right,” he said to her, shrugging. “Ain't gonna say it twice.”

There was no time to thank him.

“Be reasonable,” gritted Mr. Pynch, his wonky eyes fixing on the Lodestar. “Me associate and I be trying to prevent yer unwitting suicide and—”

“We're doin' this whether you like it or not,” Micah said.

“Then our deal be terminated.”

“Heard you the first time! Let's go, Plumm.”

“Me too!” Dollop cried and scampered up beside them.

Her spirit soared.

“Good man!” Micah clapped Dollop on the back, making his already shaky joints rattle. He clutched his Lodestar tighter, staring hard at Mr. Pynch and the Marquis. They faced off for a long, tense moment.

Finally, the pair of angry mehkans stepped aside. As Phoebe and her two friends strode past, Mr. Pynch unleashed an accusatory streak of Rattletrap at the Marquis, who planted a hand on his hip and flashed back a bright, curt retort.

Phoebe left them to bicker among themselves.

There was work to do.

 

limbing up the Vo-Pykarons had been far more difficult than falling down them. Phoebe, Micah, and Dollop tried to use the blue undergrowth as handholds, but the prickly mountain foliage seemed unwilling to help. Giant scalloped petals created an unstable surface, and sticky hoops snagged them as they descended to the valley floor.

The trio raced toward the herd. Thunder rattled so powerfully it felt like they were standing on a kettledrum.

“Time to knock some heads,” Micah spouted gleefully.

“No,” insisted Phoebe. “We're here to save the liodim.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “How?”

“The Mesmerizer. We have to stop it.”

“Copy.” He pointed at the rucksack. “Better lose that.”

She slipped the bag off her shoulders and stashed it behind a stand of cobalt growths.

“You all right?” Micah asked Dollop.

“I—I—I—I—I—I…Bu-bu-bu-bu…Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma…” The mehkan was too petrified to speak.

“Just try and keep up,” he encouraged.

They ran deeper into the valley, hiding among the vegetation that cluttered the lowlands. Vast, open mountain bases rose on either side, shadowy caverns with plenty of places for danger to lurk. As Phoebe and the others approached the liodim, the Mesmerizer's hum bored into their guts. They listened for Cyclewynders but could hear none.

The herd didn't even acknowledge their presence. The brawny mehkans were about twenty feet long, with segmented shells that extended and retracted ever so slightly with each breath. Clustered beneath their massive forms was an interlocking mess of gears that powered muscular tank-tread legs. Their armored heads were low and wide with drooping ears, and each of them had a silver-slatted jaw that looked like the baleen comb of a whale.

Their deep-set eyes were closed as they listened to the hypnotic drone.

The three rescuers pushed through the liodim to where the Mesmerizer sat on a low, circular platform with readouts and flashing indicators. A big drum was embedded in its center, rotating like the barrel of a music box.

“Keep a lookout,” Phoebe instructed Dollop.

The mehkan nodded nervously and slipped out of the ringed herd to survey the valley ahead. Micah took out his wrench and searched for a panel or a power source, anything that might shut the Mesmerizer off.

“
‘Sibilance, timbre, frequency…
'
” Phoebe read, trying to decipher the displays.

“Nothin',” Micah said, scrunching up his face. “Must be controlled remotely.”

“So what do we do?”

Micah bit his lip. He climbed on the platform and jammed his wrench into the drum. With a quick crunch, it ground his precious tool to a nub. He stared at the useless thing, fuming.

Every passing second multiplied her anxiety. Phoebe fumbled through her sniping supplies and found a tube of Speed-E-Tak cement. She tore the cap off and squeezed it onto the Mesmerizer. No effect at all. She started to sweat.

Frustrated, Micah cranked up his Lodestar and braced himself. The weapon flared as he shot out a magnetic wave. The barrel sped up for a moment, raising its pitch, and then returned to normal.

“That's it!” Phoebe cried. “But reverse it. Slow it down.”

He gave the weapon a second to recharge, then switched the polarity and pulled the trigger again. This time the Mesmerizer slowed to a crawl, hampered by the magnetic tug. The liodim stirred.

“More!” she insisted.

They saw movement between the surrounding beasts. Dollop was squeezing through the herd, scrambling toward them in a panic. His face was frozen in a mask of fear, too terrified to say the words. But they understood.

The Watchmen were coming.

Dollop raced past, but Micah grabbed his arm to hold him back, and the limb popped off in his hands.

“Wait!” Phoebe hissed. “Over here!”

Micah returned Dollop's arm, and the two of them followed her as she squeezed between the shells to hide among the tranquilized liodim. The soft purr of Cyclewynders approached. Crouching to peer through the legs of the liodim, she saw glimpses of Watchmen speeding past. If any of them paused to look closely at their livestock, all would be lost.

They were trapped.

Thunder clanged. Peering up, Phoebe's knees went weak. The sky was a craggy metal asteroid threatening to crash down at any moment. Micah shot bug-eyed glances in her direction, no clue what to do. Dollop held on to his parts, trying to keep himself together. Phoebe looked around, her mind scrabbling for a solution. Her eyes fell upon her big lumpy boots.

It came to her in a flash. She tore at the shoelaces.

Micah and Dollop looked at her as if she had lost her mind. She ripped off her boot, dug inside, and pulled out the torn wads of hand towel.

“Get ready to run,” she whispered as she yanked the boot back on.

“What are you—” Micah started to ask, but she was gone. Phoebe sidled up next to one of the liodim's wide, fishlike heads. With shaking hands, she balled up some of the rags and crammed them into the beast's ear. It twitched a bit but otherwise did not react. Realization flickered on Micah's face.

Staying low and looking out for Watchmen, she sneaked around the front of the passive creature and stuffed the remaining rags in its other ear.

Lids flashed open. Golden mehkan eyes met hers.

It roared. Not the sound of pain that had alerted them to the roundup—this was rage, and her ears rang with it.

Cyclewynders revved as Watchmen approached the disturbance. Phoebe and her friends slipped toward the back of the herd, twisting to weave between their shells. The crackle of prods rang out, so close they could smell the acrid smoke. The herd was growing tense, shifting and slamming together, and paths around the trio opened and closed.

Phoebe checked to make sure Dollop was keeping up. He was right beside them—or his legs were, at least.

“No!” Phoebe hissed.

Dollop's knock-kneed lower body quivered. His remaining pieces lay scattered among the agitated liodim behind them.

Micah rushed back, spied a scrabbling arm, and scooped it up. Phoebe saw another piece flopping between two lumbering beasts. She wedged between them and snatched it as one liodim collided with the next. The impact rippled through the herd, heading toward them like falling dominos. Micah yanked her free just as the massive shells slammed together.

The liodim with the plugged ears came into view, ignoring the shocks of the Watchmen as it rammed the Mesmerizer. The Foundry agents launched long, tethered harpoons into its hide and reversed their Cyclewynders to restrain it. The crazed beast reared up on its hind legs.

Dollop's head lay on the ground beneath the mehkan.

Throwing caution to the wind, Micah raced for the enraged creature and pointed his Lodestar. A purple bloom flashed. The berserk liodim came crashing down on the Mesmerizer, which crumpled in a detonation of sparks.

Dollop's head flew to the Lodestar.

The drone was gone. The liodim awakened.

The air was sundered with mad howls. Electric prods hissed. One of the beasts plowed into a Watchman, flinging him like a rag doll. Three others crunched together, roused and growling. Another Cyclewynder wove away from the uproar, only to get sideswiped and smeared beneath treads. The herd was out of control. Some liodim were rampaging, others were breaking away, charging for freedom. Phoebe felt a surge of exhilaration.

They turned to flee as a panicked Dollop finished reassembling himself.

A Watchman on a Cyclewynder darted forward, driving his crackling prod at Phoebe. In a purple flash, Micah fired the Lodestar and blasted him from the bike. But other Watchmen spotted the light and steered away from the herd.

They ran.

Phoebe heard a ricochet, felt a sharp blow on her shoulder. Something hot sizzled past her face. Were they being shot at?

She glanced back just as the Watchman that Micah had struck was pulverized by an escaping liodim. The three of them leaped out of the way, and when the beast rumbled past, she saw something whiz down and ping off its shell—a ball of gray metal. Phoebe looked up. The storm was breaking.

It was raining bullets.

“Hood!” Phoebe rasped, her voice lost in the thunder.

She yanked up his head cover as the downpour began. Bullets pounded with searing, bruising blows across their heads and shoulders. Dollop's mehkan hide protected him, but if it hadn't been for the Durall coveralls, the kids would have been shredded. They secured their masks as they ran.

Three, then four Cyclewynders zipped by. Micah watched them circle and readied his weapon. He aimed carefully but didn't get the chance to fire a shot. A mounted Watchman grabbed him from behind and whisked him off his feet. The Lodestar clattered away. Phoebe ran to help, but another Cyclewynder intercepted, snatching her up, kicking.

It's over,
she thought.

Then there was an unexpected crunch, and the bike beneath her wavered. The driver's grip went slack, and Phoebe tumbled to the ground. She rolled over and caught a glimpse of a bloated brown ball of spikes. With a wrenching screech, it peeled off the disabled Watchman's back, and he collapsed with his vehicle in a heap.

The Cyclewynder carrying Micah raced on. Then, in a flash, he was airborne, tugged away by long snaky arms and deposited carefully on the ground. The Watchman spun back to retrieve his captive, only to be blinded by a brilliant beam of light. The bike swerved and capsized, tumbling end over end as it crashed across the ore.

Dollop, who had watched all of this in a state of shock, picked up the Lodestar and passed it to Micah. Phoebe staggered to her feet and joined them.

The three of them stood there, not believing their eyes.

“After much deliberation,” Mr. Pynch hollered over the downpour, “me associate and I decided that deceased clients would mar our spotless reputation.”

Two more Cyclewynders closed in.

“We can negotiate the rate of our emergency rescue clause later,” the fat mehkan shouted. He inflated once more and rolled toward the approaching Watchmen, who swerved out of the way. The Marquis motioned for them to follow, and then raced for the vaulted recesses beneath the nearest mountain.

Searchlights cut through the storm, sweeping over peaks.

Aero-copters.

Phoebe, Micah, and Dollop plunged into the darkness. Though they were now sheltered from the falling rain, streams of bullets poured through pockets in the ceiling. They crashed down in waves, coating the ground with a carpet of ball bearings that made every step treacherous.

Mr. Pynch hightailed it to catch up, the pair of Cyclewynders hot on his heels. The fat mehkan dodged and wound between the giant stalks, but the serpentine bikes were far more maneuverable.

The Marquis dashed back to help his partner. One of the Watchmen accelerated to run him down, but just before impact, the Marquis shot upward, extending his legs and bowing them out. As the Cyclewynder raced through, the Marquis thrust his umbrella between his legs, hooked the Watchman's neck, and yanked him from his bike. Mr. Pynch leaped over the Marquis, inflated in midair, and bellyflopped on top of their attacker, perforating him. The fat mehkan rolled out of the way, leaving the Watchman spastic and short-circuiting. The Marquis flipped his umbrella around like a golf club and wound up. He swung with all his might, caught the Watchman squarely on the chin, and popped off his fizzing head like a champagne cork.

Meanwhile, the remaining Cyclewynder looped for another charge. Phoebe stumbled over to a tall, puffy funnel growing from one of the columns—it was overflowing with pellets of rain. She called to Dollop and Micah, who ran to her side, grabbed the lip of the fat formation, and helped topple it.

A gush of bullets flooded the Watchman's path. The Cyclewynder fishtailed. But just before the bike slid out from under him, the Watchman dove from the vehicle, rolled several times, and landed on his feet. He ran at the kids, wielding his hissing prod.

WHOOMF.
Micah blasted him with a magnetic pulse, but the Foundry agent anticipated and braced himself against a column. As the Lodestar recharged, he lunged and bashed the weapon out of Micah's grip. But before the Watchman could strike, Phoebe and Dollop seized his arm and hung on, lifting their feet so that their full weight prevented him from attacking. The prod crackled, painting her vision with dazzling patterns.