The vibrations continued, rattled equipment, and shook dust and debris from the ceiling. When it seemed they wouldn’t stop, the major produced a con-link from his pocket. He placed it around his ear and approached the line-up of golems; his being the largest among them, hunched without a carriage around its polished steel frame. An attendant mechanic by the golem’s leg appeared to check a clipboard. He made a smile and a thumbs-up, then got out of the major’s way.
Shriketalon stopped before his golem, turned his head up to look at the back of the machine, three times his height. Some pilots liked to name or decorate their golems, but rather than add paint, or trophies of battle, the golem’s lower back was graced with just one word: Lanius.
Its long limbs were lightly armored, to make room for additional mana accelerators and mithril-fiber muscles. A large ridge extended from its back like the exaggerated vertebrae of a spine, and its wide shoulder plates were curved, to shield its rider from dust, fire, and ground attack. A clamp on the right shoulder provided a dock for the golem’s main armament: An eight-foot long cleaver.
Additional muscle fiber was bundled on the bicep of the right arm, for the cleaver’s thick steel was difficult to swing, and harder still to power through metal. Given the cleaver’s significant weight, a thick steel tower shield covered in shock-absorbent, ablative segments was clutched in the four digits of the golem’s left hand.
By grabbing metal rings on the golem’s hindquarters, the major hoisted himself onto its back. With his boots snug in tactile grooves, he sat on the spinal ridge-seat and took the hanging harness in hand. He secured it around himself, where the straps of its eight points hugged his shoulders and sides.
“System Check,” the major said. “Level 1.”
The spell, cast by the tip of his finger, filled the major with a tingling, warm sensation, as if all the nerves in his body were excited at once. A throbbing warmth, and a vibration at the tips of the fingers, meant the golem’s hands were responsive and functional. That same warmth and sensation in the legs and lower back meant its hip flexors and waist traverse were nominal. As far as he could tell, the golem was in good condition.
“Golem: Ready,” Shriketalon said, and checked off a box in his mental list.
He tested his ‘saddle’ harness by leaning to his sides, falling back, and pushing forward. Riding a golem was not entirely unlike riding a horse, but the rider was much farther from the ground, and if their hands slipped from the nape or shoulder grips, they were in danger of plummeting. To accommodate hard movements, the harness needed to feel flexible and supple, but not so much so that the pilot could still slip and dangle from the back. Shriketalon felt satisfied.
“Harness: Ready.”
He flipped a metal latch and pulled on an auxiliary longsword sheathed to his right, in a scabbard secured to the golem’s abdomen. It was fit for a human, in the event that the pilot was dismounted. The sword came out smoothly and there was a good luster in its blade, so Shriketalon re-secured it in its sheathe.
“Auxiliary Armament: Ready.”
Shriketalon pulled himself forward, grabbed a man-sized helmet placed over the golem’s head. He fit the steel helmet on; slid and locked the strap under his chin, so that it was a tight fit. In addition to its minimal protection, the ear covers on the side of the bowl-shaped helm protected his ear drums from the thunder of an operating golem.
“Pilot: Ready,” the major said, completed his list. “Golem Knight Ready Status: Green.”
The major straightened his back and looked across the hangar. Golem knights were deployed in Strikes of three, and his strike mates—Guan and Freeberg—appeared to have completed their checklist.
Freeberg’s golem, Gallant, was a thick unit almost as wide as Shriketalon’s Lanius. It was painted in white and red, in honor of Freeberg’s distant connection to the blood of House Darigon, and its golem mask was styled as Barusian knight’s helm. Its weapons were an explosive-tipped lance and a round shield; a secondary armament, a large rifle, was fastened to the golem’s waist.
Guan’s golem, Widow, was much slimmer. Modifications made at her request stripped most of its heavy armor, its shoulder pauldrons, and its thick breastplate; its back could barely fit the small girl that was its rider. It was colored in a gradient of purple and black, where the black was deepest in its torso and upper limbs, and gradually turned purple as it reached the extremities and the ridge-seat of its spine. The mask that covered the golem’s face was also unique in its crest, like the plume of an old Olmenite legionnaire. Its armaments were two shortswords sheathed in hip-mounted scabbards.
The pilots leaned back in their harnesses and gestured to the major in their own manners: Guan, with her mock salute, and Freeberg, with a thumbs-up. Shriketalon turned to the ground crew and made a series of quick gestures; it was time.
They had done it so many times, in mock launches and canceled deployments, that they were old hands at the flue. When the iron doors opened, major Shriketalon leaned against the back of his golem, Lanius.
“System Start,” he said. “Level 1.”
A circle of blue light appeared above Lanius’ nape handle, a hand grip placed just behind its neck. The major pressed his hand through the gentle feedback of the circle and watched as it rotated back and forth, like dial of a safe.
It turned green.
Lanius shuddered, began to straighten, and the major took hold of the nape handle with his left hand. At the full extension of its spine, the golem was even taller, but its back remained at a notable slant to facilitate the comfort of its pilot.
“Pilot Haugh Shriketalon: Recognized,” a man’s voice, the voice of Lanius, spoke to the major’s mind. “Engine: Standby. Sensors: Standby. Weapons: Standby. All systems: Ready.”
“Activate Puppet Mode,” Shriketalon thought, spoke with distinct words in his mind.
“Acknowledged,” Lanius replied. “Pilot is in command.”
What separated a golem knight from any other soldier was their mastery of spells that defied conventional schools, such as System Check and System Start. They were from the old magics of archaeo-technology, designed by the Olmenites—or perhaps, the ancients before them—and discovered in the lairs beneath Vultheras.
After casting System Start, the command Puppet Mode allowed a pilot to control the golem through thought alone. They need only wish the golem to walk, and as the major demonstrated, Lanius set its right foot forward and progressed into the open flue tunnel.
“Spirit Link,” Shriketalon said. “Level 1.”
Although the major wasn’t a practiced necromancer, the latent ability to use spells like Spirit Link remained in his blood. By those spell words an instantaneous mental bridge was formed between him, his strike mate subordinates Freeberg and Guan, and captain Eddleston at Echelon Command. He could feel their excitement, the movement of their golems, and perhaps most apparently, Eddleston’s concern.
“Status?” Eddleston asked via their connection
“Entering Flue. Report.” The major thought.
“Shield has dropped,” Eddleston replied in three words, the maximum the connection could bear due to Shriketalon’s novice talent. “Standby.”
Lanius stopped in the tall chimney of blackened stone that was the launch flue. Far above, a cover of wood and clay held back the soft loam of the surface. A jump at maximum strength would be enough to break the old boards and blow through the dirt; a surprise for the Atilonians, but it would only work once.
A moment passed as Shriketalon waited, and then his eyes were struck open by a dramatic wave of mana. His left hand tightened on its handle and the right came to press lightly over his heart. He panted, knocked breathless in his surprise. By their connection, he knew the feelings of his strike mates, and Eddleston, were the same.
What happened? the major wondered; controlled his trembling heart.
“Eddleston!” he shouted inside.
“Connected to Wensenset!” she answered. “Standby!”
“Are you okay?” Freeberg asked the major.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered.
“Go for launch!” Eddleston reported.
A smile appeared on major Shriketalon’s face. Lanius lifted its cleaver and laid the blade upright on its right shoulder; pressed it firmly into its docking clamp.
“Sending message!” Eddleston continued, her statements separated by the limitations of the link. “To all strikes! King requests assistance! Deploy immediately! Battle plan C!”
“System Enhance!” the major shouted. “Level 5!”
Blue light shined through the cracks in Lanius’ steel armor and the pin holes in its steel mask glowed brightly. By the major’s command, the golem crouched to leap.
“Fight for Bastilhas!”
