Altos Dugin's Arc

Chapter 3 of 2

Altos ran east down the open road. Behind him he heard hoofbeats and wheels. He glanced back. A war wagon rolled after him, black iron and splintered wood, two great boars dragging it fast. A crossbow was mounted on the front. On the bench stood Kragath, poison spear in hand, his cracked chest plate catching the gray light. He had followed, just as Altos knew he would. The road offered no cover. Bare ground stretched flat on both sides. The boars gained with every stride. Altos could not outrun them. A bolt hissed past his ear and buried in the dirt ahead. A thin orc worked the front crossbow, long hair whipping, reloading fast. Altos would not last another mile in the open. He cut off the road toward a shallow ditch and a fallen tree. He dropped behind the trunk as a second bolt struck the wood. The wagon slowed. The boars stamped and snorted. Kragath climbed down. "You wrecked my machine," Kragath said. "Now I have another. You cannot break this one from a ridge." He pointed the dripping spear. "Grok. Flush him." Grok raised the crossbow again. Altos watched the boars. They were harnessed close, heads down, mad with the chase. He saw his path. He grabbed a broken branch, thick as his arm, and hurled it under the wagon's front wheel. The wheel caught it and jerked. The wagon lurched. The boars squealed and bolted sideways, dragging the heavy frame off the road. Grok's bolt flew wide. Kragath stumbled as the wagon tipped toward the ditch. Altos rose and charged. He swung the great axe into the near boar's harness chain. The chain snapped. The freed boar bolted, and the wagon slewed hard the other way. It crashed onto its side in the ditch. Iron plates buckled. The crossbow frame shattered against the ground. Grok spilled from the bench. Altos struck him down before he could stand. Then he turned on Kragath, who had rolled clear and was pushing to his feet. Kragath thrust the spear low. Altos knocked it aside with his haft. He drove his shoulder into the cracked plate, the same wound another blow had made. The plate split wider. Kragath grunted and dropped to one knee. Altos raised the axe. Kragath looked up, teeth bared, and did not beg. Altos brought the axe down. The right hand of Gorrus lay still in the ditch beside the wreck. Altos breathed hard. The wagon burned where a lantern had broken. One boar screamed off into the trees. The road east lay open again. He had killed the man who hunted him. But Kragath had spoken of another machine, and he served a master who had many. Gorrus would learn his right hand was dead. Altos wiped his axe and started east. He had four days left to Ragnok, and now the warlord himself had a reason to come.