The afternoon sun scorched the pulverized white stone of the valley floor. The blinding glare pierced through the forest of pine trees.

  The Crusher marched, a mess of heavy iron pitons and coiled steel cable in its grasp.

  Its heavy hydraulic legs struck the earth with a rhythmic, earth-shaking thud. The machine listed to the left—a limp caused by the missing tank tread on its port side—but its Red Metal chassis gleamed. The mana-core thrummed with a steady pulse.

  Zeen and Velo marched in the machine’s long shadow, studying the horizon.

  "The winch is rated for two tons," Zeen said, glancing at the equipment spilling out of the Rabbitling’s backpack. "It'll hold the Crusher if we anchor it to bedrock."

  Velo adjusted a coil, his nose twitching as he stared ahead. Heat shimmer danced in the distance, distorting the air above a dark, jagged line cutting across the world.

  "If we find bedrock," Velo called down, his voice thin in the hot air. "The Red God chewed through the mountain like wet clay. The edge might be unstable."

  Ezy leaned over the reinforced rim of the open cockpit.

  "Then we anchor it further back. We don’t stop looking until we find them, or their bodies."

  The dark line on the horizon grew into a gash. The God’s Wake gaped—a tectonic wound where the earth had ripped open. Its banks were vitrified; melted dirt and rock, crystallized into the shape of mud dripping into the rift that opened the ground.

  The hole started in the mountain and cut through the ground into the distance, where it disappeared under old pines.

  Velo’s long ears swiveled forward, locking onto a sound invisible to the others. He slapped the Red Metal flank of the Crusher.

  "Cut the engine!" the Rabbitling hissed, his nose twitching violently.

  Ezy killed the throttle. The Crusher’s hydraulics sighed as the machine ground to a halt. Silence rushed back into the valley.

  "Metal prying bone," Velo whispered, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the auditory landscape. "Seven distinct heartbeats. Heavy strides. They are downwind."

  Zeen squinted against the glare, following the line of Velo's ears. A metallic glint flared from the hill, confirming the scout's report.

  A hundred yards ahead, slumped near the edge of the chasm, lay the Gem-Croc’s remains.

  As they grew closer, they noticed its golden scales had turned a dull, leaden grey. The gems appeared clouded and cracked.

  The god’s corpse resembled industrial waste.

  Thick, black fluid leaked from beneath its scales, pooling around the carcass. Necrotic tar dripped off the bone like melting rubber.

  Seven figures swarmed the rotting flank.

  Zeen raised a fist. The Crusher halted, hydraulics hissing into silence.

  He dropped low, creeping through the vitrified ridges and into the forest. He moved downwind, the stench of decay masking his scent.

  Their movement was oddly familiar.

  One of them stood on the creature's spine, his silhouette imposing against the sky. Two others prowled the ribs, testing the meat with the anger of starving butchers.

  Nearby, three pups hacked at the lower scales. They drove pry bars under the clouded gems, putting their backs into the leverage, but the rot held the stones fast in a grip of hardened resin.

  Zeen recognized the scarred snout. The massive sword.

  The wind carried their voices.

  "Rotten," she spat, kicking a dull scale that turned to dust. "The meat is grey. The ichor has hardened into useless resin. A wasted god."

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Wutren ignored the carcass. He stood on the edge of the obsidian ledge, staring down into the darkness of the Wake.

  "Forget the lizard," the grey-furred elder rumbled. "The Red God... imagine the size of the heart needed to drive a beast through stone."

  Janaree’s ears perked up. The disappointment in her voice shifted to voracious greed.

  "We need a transport to bring that much ichor to the Anuris Mirror. We would be set for life. No more raiding. No more mud."

  Vavnaar turned, studying the distant smoke of a settlement.

  "A Ratling town sits nearby," he said, his voice low. "We force them to build us wagons and barrels, and a small tank to pull them."

  Zeen, Ezy, and Velo were drawing near. The Crusher’s gate made its heavy metal joint clank.

  Four wolf heads turned as one.

  Vavnaar gripped the hilt of his sword. Janaree’s hand dropped to her pistols.

  They watched the Red Metal machine loom over the ridge. They held their stance, identifying the silhouette.

  Velo scrambled backward, diving behind the thick metal plate of the Crusher’s leg. He pulled two vials from his satchel, holding them like grenades.

  "They smell like old blood and wet dogs," Velo whispered, trembling. "Why are we going towards Wolfkin? They’re killers—"

  “Enough,” Zeen said, tightening his grip on his musket. He walked forward.

  Vavnaar jumped down from the rotting god, landing in the dust with heavy thuds. They formed a loose line, blocking the path to the Gem-Croc. The three pups scrambled away, hiding behind the rotting mass.

  Vavnaar didn't speak. He stalked toward the machine, his heavy boots squelching through the black sludge leaking from the god-corpse. He stopped inches from the Crusher’s leg and hammered his fist against the chassis.

  The hollow, metallic ring echoed across the valley. The machine didn't budge an inch.

  "You traded bones for a god's metal," Vavnaar rumbled, dragging a claw across the red steel. "Heavier. Harder."

  Ezy threw a lever. The cockpit swiveled with a hydraulic hiss, bringing her face to face with the Wolf Kin.

  "Powers itself," Ezy replied.

  Vavnaar turned his back on her and walked to the jagged lip of the God’s Wake. He kicked a stone into the abyss, counting the seconds until it hit the bottom.

  "We were following the Morning Mist’s border," Janaree said, stepping forward to look at the forearm guns of the Crusher. "When the fog parted, we found old tracks that led to the spoiled Gem-Croc."

  She gestured to the rotting carcass behind him. A pocket of gas ruptured beneath the scales with a wet pop, releasing a cloud of foul yellow vapor. The pups, who were peeking past the crocodile’s giant tail, gagged with a collective “eww!” and scrambled away.

  "Where’s the Fox Kin?" Vavnaar asked, watching the gas dissipate. "Where’s the Piggy?"

  Zeen walked to the ledge. "Separated. When the mountain collapsed. After we killed the One-Eye," he finished, pressing the broken amulet with his palm.

  "The One-Eye is dead… Good," Wutren breathed, running a hand over his face. “We were right to seek you out, God Slayers. Let’s go fish out your friends, we have business to attend.”

  From behind the metal leg, Velo’s whisper cut through the quiet.

  "Nothing survives being swallowed by the earth. We’re looking for bodies."

  Ezy twisted in her cockpit. She was about to protest when Wutren interrupted.

  "The Bunnyling,” he spat with disdain, “is wrong.” He stepped beside his leader. Then, his eyes followed the God’s Wake further down the hill, and pointed toward the grey sky directly over a section of the trench further.

  High above, a speck of pink and yellow moved against the clouds. It flew a frantic, tight figure-eight pattern. Over and over.

  "Bomber..." Zeen breathed.

  "We tracked the bug," Janaree said. “Giant Moths aren’t native to this forest. It’s his, isn’t it?”

  "It’s been circling that spot for hours," Wutren said. "Marking the same spot."

  Vavnaar nodded. "The piggy stopped my blade with a word. That kind of stubbornness survives falling rocks."

  He turned, locking eyes with Zeen. "We knew we would find you. We came with a deal."

  Ezy leaned forward in her harness. "You tracked us?"

  Vavnaar turned to face Zeen, blotting out the sun. He reached down, grabbed a gemstone on the ground, and rubbed it between his clawed fingers. It crumbled into useless, dry dust.

  "The Piggy is tougher than he looks. And the Fox Kin hits harder than anything in this valley. She cleaved through a shield and an arm in a single, swift strike. If we help, you hunt with us."

  Ezy narrowed her eyes. "You want to save him?"

  "I want the Red God," Vavnaar growled, flicking the dust from his hand. "Our pack is down to us three and the pups. The Red God is too big. We need backup."

  Janaree sheathed her knife. "You have the machine,” she said, nodding at the mounted guns. “The piggy has the voice. We bring the muscle."

  Vavnaar bent down, bringing his scarred snout level with Zeen’s face.

  "We pull them out. Patch them up. Wutren helped our pups; they’ve been brewing the potion. The one Trenn taught them to make. When they’re back on their feet, we track and bleed the Red God together. You’ll have all the Red Metal you want. And when we get to the Anuris Mirror, we split the Grimoire Mage’s bounty. Sixty-forty, in our favor."

  Velo winced as Vavnaar’s large hand reached for Zeen.

  Zeen stared at it. It was capable of crushing his skull. He studied the rotting Gem-Croc, then the abyss where his friends lay buried.

  He glanced up at Ezy. She gave a firm nod.

  Zeen gripped the Wolf Kin’s hand.

  "God Slayers," Zeen said, nodding. "Alright. Let’s go collect our friends."

  Current Schedule:

  [email protected]

  https://discord.gg/mhxDZjw4

  https://www.patreon.com/cw/RDDMartel