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Vol 2: Chapter 12

  Cutter and Stone Robot zipped away from the farm in pursuit of Tonk and his yak-thing. Tonk had gained a substantial lead, the silhouette of him and his mount shrinking against the white horizon. But the Stone-robot-cycle was faster. A lot faster. They hummed across the landscape, Cutter couching his glaive like a lance, grinning with terrible enthusiasm. He was a warrior fulfilling his purpose. It might have been a disaster that Tonk had witnessed whatever he had witnessed, but to Cutter this was just an opportunity to git some.

  It made the futility of their charge all the more gutting.

  Cutter’s head snapped upwards as he clung to Stone Robot’s back. “What? Futility? The fuck?”

  They raced on, closing the gap quickly. The yak quickly transformed from a small blip to a large one and Cutter could start to make out the shape of its shaggy form as they neared.

  Cutter snarled, “What the fuck do you mean about futility? I’ve got this! He’s a mud-level accountant or some shit and we’re both stone-level with fighting classes! If there were ten of him we’d have this!”

  But of course, they’d forgotten about the yak-thing.

  Cutter frowned, speaking low and serious. “The yak-thing? It’s a shaggy cow! Why would we be worried about the god damned yak?”

  Tonk glanced over his shoulder and his face contorted with alarm. They were desperately near.

  Cutter shouted, “Hey! Tonk! Slow up there buddy! We just want to have a chat. I imagine there’s a way we could have a little talk about this that didn’t end in my chucking you in the composter!”

  The response drifted back on the wind as the gap narrowed to less than twenty yards. “You’re murderers! I saw what you did! This will be the end of the lot of you!”

  Cutter paused. He was given pause by the fact that they had indeed murdered Gronk. It had been in self defence, yes, but it was hard to be too righteous in intercourse when one had murdered the interlocutor’s cousin, buried him, then dug him and fed him to a machine that turned his body into dirt.

  Cutter said, more to himself than Tonk, “Alright then. Fuck it.”

  He leaned over Stone Robot’s back and urged his mount to move faster. The construct found an even higher gear and they surged forward. The gap narrowed to ten feet. A few more and the glaive would be long enough to swing and take the ogre’s head off.

  Tonk glanced back again. Fresh and greater terror erupted on his face, but the fear was suddenly subsumed by one of determination. Cutter saw him drive his heels into the yak’s sides and use his big ogre hands to yank up on the creature’s horns. The huge beast skidded on the white, sliding and turning. The sudden deceleration nearly resulted in them crashing into the ogre and its mount. It happened too fast for Cutter to use his glaive. They skidded wide, the sounds of Stone Robot’s levitation screeching as he cut speed as well. They spun, like a car on black ice, turning round and round, sliding past the yak and the ogre. When they came to a halt, Stone Robot turned to face Tonk and the mount.

  Cutter smiled, it was not bereft of cruel satisfaction. “Looks like we’re between you and your home turf now.”

  It was then that he saw the band on the yak’s foreleg.

  “It was then that I saw what… oh…”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The yak bore an iron band. The sigils were too far away for Cutter to discern. They were meaningless and inconsequential. His stomach did a little flip as the yak pawed the white floor beneath it and lowered its head.

  “Now, hang on a second Tonk. There’s still room for some negotiation here. That’s clearly a powerful beast, but it’s still a beast. I just need one opening to cut you right the fuck in half. Do you really want to play this game?”

  Tonk was settled and stern. “You killed my cousin. You put him through that composter. You’re sitting there with his sigil in your band! You want me to leave this go? I’d rather die. I set my reputation on the line over this. And now I’ve got my vindication.”

  Cutter looked at the ogre through slitted eyes. “Vindication? Or opportunity?”

  Tonk watched him with suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Cutter said, “I know all about the politics you guys are playing over there on the ranch. Tiller told us about it. Ol’ Cronk is getting on and someone else needs to take the mantle when he’s gone. You’ve whipped a bunch of your kin up over Gronk’s disappearance—

  “HIS MURDER!”

  Cutter went on, “You didn’t see anything. We just put a bunch of dirt and plants into the composter. I know you saw nothing because I was standing right in front of it and I saw nothing.”

  “I know what you bastards did.”

  Cutter scoffed, “You practicing? Is that indignation and outrage the way you’re going to play your kin? Get them to turn away from Cronk and aim them at us? What’s the plan? Once you kill all of us and burn our place to the ground will you and your followers be united? No going back once you wipe out a settlement? Is that the support you need to win the leadership of the clan when pop pops his clogs?”

  Tonk growled, “That old fucker’s never going to die on his own.”

  Cutter hadn’t formed a reply when Tonk drove his heels into the yak’s flanks. The beast erupted, tearing towards them. Stone Robot needed no prompting. The hum of the levitation roared as they surged forward. Stone Robot roared, “GIT SOME!”

  Cutter laughed, and shouted, “GIT SOME! But scoot round him, okay?”

  Cutter raised the glaive over his shoulder, focusing on the moment. There would come a moment when Stone Robot veered aside, lighter and nimbler than the yak. Cutter would swing the weapon, the blue steel flashing in the light, and cut Tonk down. The glaive had plenty of reach and Cutter lusted for the moment of victory.

  Then one of the sigils on the yak’s foreleg pulsed and flashed. The rest was too fast to follow. For Cutter it was too fast to see the yak explode forward, impossible fast, like cannonball. It was too fast for him to feel Stone Robot try, in panic, to veer aside. It was too fast for him to feel this impact, to feel the pieces of Stone Robot fly apart as the impossible mass of the yak struck them. To Cutter it was just an instant of flash and impact.

  Then he was lying on his back, groaning with pain. His back was pressed against the hard smoothness of the white. The ground vibrated with the rhythm of hoofbeats. He made a pained moan and rolled to his side. The world flipped as he moved and he found himself looking at the horizon.

  Starkly silhouetted against the horizon, where white floor met blue sky, was the retreating shape of the yak and its rider.

  Cutter rolled to his stomach and forced himself to his knees.

  All around him were the pieces of Stone Robot. Already they were trembling and sliding across the white floor, moving towards some designated point for reassembly.

  Cutter watched the shrinking form in the distance and cursed. “Fuck. Fuck. FUUUCK!”

  Stone Robot’s voice emanated from the coalescing pieces, “What happened bruh? I can’t see yet!”

  “He got away! He’s in the wind now.”

  “Dooood! That’s not good.”

  Cutter rubbed his forehead and winced. Every part of him hurt. “Tell me about it. Tiller’s going to have a fucking field day with this!”

  “Tiller’s going to want to solve the problem, bruh. He’s not out to get you.”

  Cutter snarled, “Fighting is my job! I messed it up! This is big trouble. Like, really big trouble.”

  Stone Robot’s pieces were joining together. The head, with the shiny black face and the digitized eyes, turned to him, “Why didn’t he finish us off? He like totally had us on a plate bruh.”

  Cutter stared at the horizon. He could feel pain all over his body and blood was beginning to drool down his face from a wound above his hairline. The shape of the yak and the rider were so small now that they were barely a speck.

  Cutter said, “Tonk’s the kind who doesn’t take chances. He could have ridden round for another chance, but he couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t get a shot at him. All I’d need is one shot. Why would he bother taking the chance? If he gets back home and rallies his supporters then he won’t need to take risks. He’ll have already fucking won.”

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