11/11/98
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Page 12
the outcrop, he flung his fans at the beast hoping to distract it, but
they passed strait through.
Only enchanted steel seemed to cut it. Suddenly there was a thunk. An
icicle a hand span wide and at least ten pince long, had been driven though
Dane's chest. He reeled back and collapsed twitching on the snow.
"Borc!" Lobsang cursed. He sprinted through the trees and down to the edge
of the plateau. "Ho, Cholan!" he called.
The Cholan turned, then charged. Lobsang calmly stepped backwards over the
precipice. As the Cholan roared overhead, Lobsang grabbed the crumbling
edge of the precipice and using it as purchase, flipped backwards, feet
first in the classic "way of the lotus" disembowelling move. He passed
straight through the beast as if it wasn't there, and landed back on the
edge. He started to back away hurriedly as the Cholan began to summon its
power.
"This ends now!" Lobsang turned.
Darkion Dane was moving so fast, after images were trailing behind him. He
scorched past Lobsang, living a trail of melted snow, and cast himself over
the edge, heading strait for the Cholan. The Cholan moved to the left
slightly.
"Aaaahhg!" Dane screamed as he flew past into the abyss his legs flailing
wildly.
The Cholan started to chuckle and move towards Lobsang. Lobsang watched in
disbelief as somehow Dane found purchase in mid-air, perform a triple
backwards somersault, twist then bury his screaming blade just above the
spots that served as the creatures eyes. Wrenching his sword free as he
passed, Dane landed smoothly next to Lobsang. Black, stinking blood founted
out of the livid gash in the contorted air. The blood writhed like a living
thing, then poured into the red blade, which absorbed it greedily. They
both watched the Cholan implode with a final screech.
"A close shave," said Lobsang, eyeing the large hole in the centre of Danes
chest. He could see right through to the other side.
Dane grinned as he sheathed his sword
"Ha! It fell for that old 'Oh, no I'm falling into an abyss' trick!"
"Hmm, can't say I've heard of that one," Lobsang muttered.
He turned his gaze to where the cave used to be. "I think we have a
problem."
Rhomina and Bordran watched with no little
amount of apprehension and amazement as the stranger happily ate their
Pocroot fritters. Bordran was sure he knew him, this was 'Oatii' the
infamous Painbiscu, and from the look on Rho's face, he could see she
suspected so too.
The man looked up, his face was scarred, but youthful. A shaggy small beard
adorned his face and his hair, long and unkempt. He smiled, "I mean you
know harm; my name is Thorn Resnik."
Thorn sprinkled a few oats on the last fritter and devoured it hungrily.
"Why are you here?" demanded Rhomina, voice squeaking slightly.
Slowly and carefully licking the last of the fritter fragments from the
plate, Thorn was slow to respond.
"I am in need of the services of a construct designer, I smelt the Pocroot
and decided upon your services. I trust this is not a problem?"
"Err… well… what did you have in mind?" mumbled Bordran.
"I need your talents for deciphering the mechanisms of a construct. A
construct of much complexity and confusion."
"Well, bring it out, I think a quick perusal is in order before we discuss
our fee," said Rhomina brightly.
"You fee will be generous, but I fear the construct is many wheels from
here by swift Etucheon. I rode hard for many bells. I hope you both can
ride, well, that is if you are a team… Do you both take active roles in
'Olaween Constructs' - as it stated outside you abode?"
"We are indeed a team," replied Rho, looking at Bordran, "but we both have
many commitments within the city. We would need to know more before either
of us could commit."
"Borc, you are a feisty one and no mistake! Not at all like the simpering
maidens I have encountered on my travels.
"Very well, fair lady, I shall tell you more…"
Thorn's tale did not elaborate much on his reasons, but launched straight
into his entry in to one of the largest walnut mills in upper Utens, near
Cristol-Tee.
"I found them to be surprisingly poorly guarded - I suspect because the
mystique and strangeness of the mills dissuade most. So anyway, with few
casualties - I think it may have been five or six, or maybe twelve… I
forget… anyway, less than thirty.
"The corridors and doors seemed to be endless and winding, I would consider
that this would leave many wanting. But not me, I knew the impact of my
task-"
"Umm… what task would that be?" asked Rho. Resnik was too caught up in his
story to pay any notice to the interruption.
"-and eventually, I reached, what appeared to be, the mill room - no
milling that I could see, but many gargantuous constructs, all steaming,
and a plethora of pistons and wheels.
"I could not fathom it, I know I would need assistance of a technical sort
and I'd heard, from many a source, that Prendersbard was with no equal for
skills I require.
"So… here I am."
"Well…" started Bordran.
"Consider it," Resnik
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