Blood and Iron (4 page)

And he couldn’t go back. There was nothing behind him but the northern coast of Shull and, beyond it, the iron-grey waters of the Moonshadow sea.

He would have to go past her. Not that Kavan would ever deviate from the path he perceived to be the right one.

He raised his hand in greeting.

‘Hello Kavan,’ said the Scout. ‘I bring the compliments and the congratulations of Artemis City.’

Kavan’s gaze travelled the length of the Scout’s silver body, the metal unscratched and polished to a shine.

‘Have you come directly from there?’ he asked.

‘I have. Three brigades have been sent to aid in the securing of the North Kingdom, following its conquest by you.’

‘Three brigades? That was more than I was given to take the whole of Northern Shull!’

Now Kavan commanded no one. He had expended nearly all his troops in the taking of the North Kingdom. The few survivors would be picking through the melted remains of that ruined land, either that or chasing down the last of the robots who had escaped from the battleground, supposedly carrying the remnants of the Book of Robots in their head. Kavan had travelled to the very top of the kingdom; seeking conquest, not answers, it was true; but even so, along the way he had found nothing but confirmation of his own beliefs.

But that was past. For the moment, he was a leader without troops.

The Scout inclined her head.

‘The story of your conquest is told across the continent, Kavan,’ she said. ‘Your name has been engraved in the Great Hall of the Basilica.’

‘And yet we meet here, in an empty valley at the uttermost north of Shull. No soldiers, no weapons, just you, a Scout in a brand new body and me, a broken-down infantryrobot.’ The fresh wind sang in his badly adjusted joints, as if by way of illustration. ‘So, what are your orders?’

‘To locate Kavan, the hero of Artemis, and to escort him to Spoole, leader of Artemis. You are to be honoured, Kavan. Spoole himself travels north to greet you.’

‘Does he, indeed?’

His tone made the Scout shift slightly, the blades at her hands protruding for just a moment.

‘Kavan, where have you been? Soldiers and Scouts have scoured these hills searching for you. Rumour has been rife. That you were killed, that you had found the Book of Robots, that you had quit these shores and were travelling the sea roads to the Top of the World itself. Tell me, where have you been?’

Kavan gazed at the Scout, her body so smooth and sleek compared to the scratched utility of his grey infantry panelling.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Kavan. ‘Thinking about new lands to conquer. And I have come to a decision. Tell me, Scout, what’s your name?’

‘Calor.’

‘Your body is polished and unscratched. But that means nothing, perhaps you are freshly repaired. Tell me, Calor, have you ever fought in battle?’

‘Yes, Kavan. In the northern states. Two weeks ago. I was caught by three of the mountain robots.’

‘That wasn’t a true war. The conquest of the northern states was completed three months ago. The few robots who still fight are under-resourced and tired.’

‘Even so, they rose from beneath the ground as I ran by; they caught me by the legs, tearing the electromuscles there. I was dragged down beneath the soil. I fought with my arms as they pulled me deeper and deeper into the earth. I cut my own body free beneath the waist, that I may fight better, and then I despatched them, one by one in the dark. I emerged from the earth, my body scratched and filled with soil, and I dragged myself home with my own hands. I have fought, Kavan.’

‘Very well, Calor,’ said Kavan. ‘You have fought. So, I will tell you this. I have been thinking, here at the top of Shull, wondering at my next move. And finally I have seen what it must be.’

The stream splashed by in that empty land, not heeding the words being spoken on its bank.

‘I march south, Calor. My next conquest will be Artemis City itself.’

Now Calor’s blades slid properly free of her hands and feet, sharp and deadly in the pale morning sun.

‘Treason!’ she called.

‘Treason? No, I don’t think so. Ask yourself this, Calor: which more truly embodies the spirit of Artemis? Spoole and his Generals, living cosseted in Artemis City, cladding themselves in expensive metal? Or me, who has led armies across this continent and conquered all in his path?’

The Scout didn’t answer, but her blades retracted, just a fraction of an inch.

‘You see? You know I am right. So follow me. We march.’

And at that he strode forward, pushing past the Scout, resuming his march by the side of the stream, heading south, back through the lands he had conquered, heading towards Artemis City. After a moment’s hesitation the Scout began to follow him.

‘Wait!’ she called, running lightly across the sodden turf between the path and the stream. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I told you, south.’

‘But you are heading towards a squad of Storm Troopers.’

‘If they are loyal to Artemis they will follow me.’

‘If they are loyal to Spoole they will shoot you!’

‘Then I will fight them.’

At that Calor looked up along the top of the rocky slope, looked back behind them. She laughed.

‘Ah. I begin to understand. Kavan, the master tactician. You have more troops, more weapons. Hidden just out of sight.’

Kavan halted so suddenly that Calor almost tripped over him. She watched, puzzled, as he squatted down by the stream that ran alongside the path. He dipped his hand into the water, it looked blue as he felt for the rounded pebbles on the bed. The plastic grips at the end of his fingers were worn, he had to scrabble in the churning water for a handful, but finally he seized them and held them out for Calor to see, water draining from the dents in his panelling.

‘Your claws and a handful of pebbles. These are the only weapons I command now. You are my army.’

Calor nervously extended the blades at her hands and feet once more.

‘But there are only two of us!’ she said. ‘There are hundreds, thousands of soldiers, combing these hills, looking for you. They will kill you if you resist them. Why should I get myself killed too?’

Kavan leaned closer, and she saw the golden glow in his eyes.

‘Why?’ he said softly. ‘Because you know that I am right. Artemis is not a place, Artemis just is. How did your mother weave your mind, Calor? Was she an Artemisian?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then this is where you learn the truth about yourself.’

‘I could kill you now,’ said Calor, a hiss of static in her words. She was moving her bladed hands through the killing pattern. ‘You wear the body of an infantryrobot. I could slice through you before you have a chance to move. I could disable you and carry your mind back to Spoole.’

‘Then why haven’t you done so already?’ asked Kavan. ‘There are many robots who claim to be Artemisians, but their mothers wove their minds to think more of themselves than of the state itself. Are you one of those robots? Some live a long time before they find this out about themselves. You will find out today.’

Calor stilled her killing dance, wondering about what Kavan had said. He stared at her with those golden eyes. Then, slowly, the blades at her hands and feet withdrew.

‘It will be my death, but I will follow you, Kavan.’

‘Arm yourself, then,’ he said, and he handed her a pebble.

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do

How sweetly bloomed the railway station outside the Silent City.

Cherry blossom fluttered down from the branches woven amongst the metal arches of the roof, or was it the metal that was woven around the branches? Wood and metal sprouted from the ground, twisting around each other to form the living canopy of the station. The metal feet of the robots stirred pink petals on the platforms.

Everything looked so normal, so unchanged. It was odd to think that outsiders now walked upon Yukawan soil. And not just outsiders, but animals. Animals that walked upright, like robots. Animals that, if stories were to be believed, had hands and faces. Animals that could think and bend metal to make tools and machines. It was said they had been here for nearly a year, and yet it was odd that so few people had actually seen them. Perhaps they were shy, reflected Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. Perhaps they were embarrassed by the richness and culture of the Empire.

A Shinkansen entered the station in a silent wave of blossom, a white needle threading the living cloth. Petals stuck to the metal shells of the waiting passengers; they slowly fluttered to the ground as the train drew to a halt.

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do opened the door of a carriage for the pretty young female who stood by him on the platform. There was something about the line of her body, the way she had forged simple metals into a harmonious whole.

‘Thank you, warrior,’ she said, eyes lowered. ‘My name is Jai-Lyn.’

‘I am Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.’ He followed her into the corridor. ‘Where do you travel to?’ he asked.

‘Ka. They have need of young women there who can twist children.’

Ka was on the west coast, two hundred miles or so from the High Spires of Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s home. A whaling city inhabited mainly by the men who followed the steps down from the city to the sea bottom, there to walk the sea bed, hunting the whales, firing their harpoons up at the great creatures as they passed by overhead. They would wrestle with them for hours, tiring them out before dragging the spent bodies down to their waiting awls and cutters. It was tough, dangerous work for strong robots with plenty of lifeforce. Women who could spin new minds were in short supply.

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do found himself and Jai-Lyn an empty compartment. The seats were of carved and varnished wood set with a chevron pattern of rubber grips to stop metal bodies slipping when the train slowed to a halt. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do waited for the young woman to sit down first, admiring her movement as she did so.

‘That’s a well-built body,’ observed Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘You have some ability.’

‘Thank you, warrior.’

‘You will do well in the city.’

She looked pleased at that, smiled such a pretty smile. ‘Do you really think so? I’ve never left the Silent City before. Still, I follow the Emperor’s will.’

A shadow fell across the doorway, and a clear voice sounded out.

‘Clear this compartment for the Emperor’s Warriors, Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah and Har-Ka-Bee-Parolyn and their wives.’

Jai-Lyn was already rising to her feet, her head lowered so she did not meet the eyes of the great warrior who stood by the door. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do remained seated.

‘This compartment is already occupied by Wa-Ka-Mo-Do of Ko, and his travelling companion Jai-Lyn,’ he said smoothly. He waved a hand to the spare seats. ‘Though you are welcome to join us.’

One warrior gazed at Wa-Ka-Mo-Do in amusement.

‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do?’ he said. ‘What sort of a name is that?’

‘A warrior’s name,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, without heat. ‘Know that I am one of the Eleven sent to the Emperor by the state of Ekrano, newly appointed Commander of the Emperor’s Army of Sangrel, travelling there to take up that position.’ He looked up politely at the tall robot who stood in the doorway. ‘And you are?’

‘Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah, Warrior of the Silent City.’

With that Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah stepped into the compartment, and allowed Wa-Ka-Mo-Do and Jai-Lyn to look upon his wonderful body, forged of the finest metal by the craftsrobots of the Silent City. There wasn’t a straight line on him, every curve that made up his perfectly balanced frame would have been patiently formed by the heating and folding and cooling of metal until his body was strong but sprung. His electromuscles would have been knit from the finest wire, his eyes ground by the most skilled lensmen. It was said that the Vestal Virgins modified the minds of the Warriors of the Silent City, tuning them to make faster and better fighters, but Wa-Ka-Mo-Do suspected that to be nothing more than rumour.

‘Did you make that body yourself?’ asked Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah, insulting Wa-Ka-Mo-Do in the politest of tones.

‘I did,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, equally politely. He waved a hand again to the free seats. ‘Now, will you join us? For we are both of equal rank and protocol suggests that it would be unbecoming for warriors to fight so close to the Silent City, particularly on a day such as this when the cherry blossom is so beautiful.’

Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah laughed as he turned to his companion in the corridor.

‘The cherry blossom is indeed beautiful! And it is also said that the Eleven Warriors place greater value on poetry than they do on fighting!’

‘No,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘Equal value.’

A look of anger flickered across Dar-Ell-Ji-Larriah’s face.

‘I wonder if it is appropriate for you to contradict me before an inferior?’

‘Jai-Lyn is my travelling companion, and therefore our equal, at least for the length of the journey.’

Jai-Lyn looked frightened.

‘Oh warriors, please do not speak of me in such terms . . .’

She hesitated at the noise from outside. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do and the other warriors heard it too. A shout, a clamour and a clatter of metal. The sound of robots moving, disembarking, the sharp crackle of hurriedly shouted orders. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do leaned out of the door to see that a group of robots had entered the station and were ordering everyone off the train.