The Gate of Eight Worlds

Chapter 20:The Furnace patrol

The metallic clatter of the iron-automata grew louder, their heavy treads crunching over the brittle sheets of volcanic glass. Dark sulfur smoke trickled from the exhaust vents mounted behind their iron shoulders, carrying the acrid stench of burning coal.

"Stay behind the basalt ridge," Caleb commanded in a low voice, crouching low against the dark stone. "Those things don't rely on sight alone. Their furnace grates detect heat signatures across the plains."

Alex tightened his grip on his blade, keeping the weapon close to his side so the golden glow of his palm-crest wouldn't reflect against the surrounding black glass. "Dwaho, what are we dealing with?"

Dwaho narrowed his eyes, the electric-blue light of his Sight flaring beneath his brow. Through the dark iron plating of the lead automaton, he traced the glowing internal mechanisms—a complex network of pressurized brass tubes, gear-assemblies, and a central furnace core burning with dark, coal-fueled fire.

"They're automated sentries," Dwaho reported softly. "No living pilots inside. The lead one has a primary pressure boiler in its chest, but there's a design flaw—the exhaust pipe on its right shoulder is unshielded. If you rupture that pipe, the steam pressure will blow the boiler from the inside."

"Natasha, take the flank," Alex said, his voice steady. "Rose, target the steam joints in their legs to slow them down. Caleb, guard Dwaho and Barnaby. I'll take the lead unit."

Before the six automata could reach the crest of the ash ridge, Princess Rose stood up from behind a basalt outcrop, her longbow drawn back to her ear. She released three shafts in rapid succession. The iron-tipped arrows whistled through the sulfurous haze, striking the knee joints of the two trailing machines with pinpoint precision. White steam erupted from the pierced hydraulic lines, causing both automata to lock up and collapse onto the jagged obsidian rocks.

The remaining four machines whirred, their brass headpieces spinning toward the ridge as red furnace light flared behind their iron grates.

"Intruders detected at Sector Four," a mechanical, raspy voice grated through an iron speaker grille on the lead unit. "Execution protocol engaged."

The lead automaton lunged forward with surprising speed, raising its heavy, steam-heated halberd. The weapon's blade glowed dull orange with intense heat, sizzling as it cut through the air.

Alex didn't wait for the blow to land. He surged forward, planting his boots into the black ash and ducking beneath the sweeping halberd. Channeling a swift burst of sun-fire through his right hand, he thrust his glowing blade upward, driving the tip straight into the unshielded exhaust pipe on the lead machine's right shoulder.

The white-hot sun-fire instantly melted the brass valve, blocking the escape route for the trapped steam.

Within a split second, the internal pressure spiked. The lead automaton shuddered violently, its iron chest plate bulging outward before exploding in a shower of sparks, hot coal, and flying shrapnel. The force of the detonation threw the machine backward onto the ash plain, its glowing core dying out instantly.

Beside him, Queen Natasha moved like a shadow through the smoke. Her silver blade spun in a tight arc, shearing through the exposed steam lines behind the second machine's neck before stepping back as the headless iron frame crashed to the ground.

With the remaining sentries immobilized by Rose's bowstring and Alex's strike, the ash ridge fell silent once more, save for the hiss of dying steam cooling against the cold volcanic rock.

"Clean work," Queen Natasha said, wiping a fleck of black oil from her blade. "But those explosions will draw more than just scouting patrols."

Dwaho walked up to the smoldering wreckage of the lead automaton, pointing toward a thick brass wire connected to its shattered chest plate. "Look at this signal cable. It was transmitting our location back to the Crucible Spire the moment they spotted us."

Alex looked across the vast ash-plains toward the distant, towering silhouette of the iron fortress belching crimson smoke into the sky.

"Then we don't have time to waste," Alex said, pulling his damp linen mask back over his face. "We move for the Spire now."