Ten Kina of Mosrow advanced along the moat.
The five at the fore stepped toward the orc formation. The Na-Woul timbers composing the Kina's leg joints drank in mana and began to glow.
The Kina leapt—brief, sharp—and the instant their feet met the ground again, the crushing weight of their descent and the mana concentrated in their soles discharged into the earth.
KRAOOM!
The packed soil caved and split in every direction. The ground surged in rippling waves from the point of impact, and the shockwave that erupted in its wake fanned outward in a ring. Nearby orcs tumbled across the mud as the concussive force swept through them.
Salma's Kina walked toward the orcs.
The right arm rose.
Thick fingers spread wide and seized three orcs at once. The single act of closing the hand crumpled the armor of those caught within it.
The Kina flung its arm outward. The orcs, already crushed in its grip, scattered and fell as if thrown loose. They struck the ground and rolled, necks and spines bent at wrong angles.
The assault did not stop.
The Kina's left arm swept in a broad horizontal arc. It caught another orc mid-flight as it tried to flee, raking across its torso—and rather than letting the momentum die, the Kina carried the motion through, swinging the arm in a wide, sweeping arc.
CRACK!
The orc flew and slammed into the wall. Its body buckled against the stone and crumpled straight to the ground.
Salma's Kina lifted its left foot.
"Ullaaaaaaaa!"
Beneath that raised foot, a single orc stood its ground—axe raised, voice raw. The Kina paid it no mind and brought the foot down. The solid, massive weight of the Kina fell upon the orc's head and shoulders all at once.
CRUNCH!
The steel breastplate warped and split. The foot pressed down into the muddy earth, crushing the orc's chest flat before the motion stopped. When the Kina lifted its foot, all that remained was the orc's body—already buried in the mud, tangled among shards of broken armor.
Salma's Kina turned toward the Minotaurs.
Minotaurs charging across the moat came on with axes raised.
—CLANG—
The axe blade of the lead Minotaur bit into the Kina's metal outer plating with a dull, resonant toll that rang through the armor.
Salma's Kina reached out and closed its hand around the Minotaur's head. The Kina's palm crushed the ornaments from the helmet as its fingers wrapped around the skull.
Then it drove the arm downward, full force, into the ground—and the Minotaur's head was buried in the mud.
—CRACK—
The sound of the Minotaur's vertebrae giving way.
Salma's Kina snatched another Minotaur charging in from the side by the shoulder. The Kina's fingers—sheathed in sharp metal—drove through the Minotaur's armor and into the muscle beneath.
The Kina wrenched its arm back.
The Minotaur's arm came free from the socket entire.
"You are in the way. Minotaur."
At Salma's words, the Kina turned and drove its left arm forward.
The Minotaur struck head-on buckled sideways at the torso. Its hooves dug deep into the mud, trying to hold—but it was thrown clear regardless.
The Minotaurs pressing close behind collided with one another and lost their footing. Axes slipped from their hands.
The Minotaurs that had been sent flying slammed into the base of the wall.
Salma's Kina stepped forward and pressed deeper into the oncoming mass.
The Kina's right hand came down and closed around the nearest Minotaur's head—crushed the helmet inward, wrenched the neck sideways, lifted—then drove it into the ground.
The left arm swung wide. The Minotaur it struck was lifted bodily from its feet and sent flying toward the moat. Its body cleared the black smoke rising from the water and vanished into it.
The Kina did not stop. It raised a foot and brought it down onto the back of a Minotaur already on the ground.
One Kina following Salma broke off toward the orcs that had crossed the moat.
The orc warriors who had come over had formed ranks with spears leveled—but the front row wavered at the sight of the approaching Kina. Several couldn't hold and stepped back, opening gaps, and the spear tips began to tremble.
The wall of orc spears collapsed.
Those who remained gripped their shafts and held their ground against the massive wooden giant bearing down on them—but before the Kina's bulk, those spears were no more than dry sticks.
The moment the orc spearheads touched the Kina's thick armor plating, they could not bite. They skidded sideways, and the shafts bent and snapped under the force. Splinters of broken spear scattered in every direction.
The force the orcs had braced against came back on them. The recoil broke their stances—some fell backward, some stumbled and went down—and through the gaps torn open by their own collapse, the Kina simply kept walking.
"Uaaaaawaaagh!"
An orc caught beneath the Kina's foot screamed.
More orcs who had crossed the bridge over the moat came rushing at the Kina.
The Kina pivoted at the waist and swept both arms wide. The enormous limbs tore through the mass of orcs. Without time to cry out, they were launched into the air and fell into the black smoke rising from the moat. The Kina swung again and again at the orcs that kept coming, without pause.
The Kina's right hand raked through a cluster of approaching orcs. Those caught on the Kina's sharp fingertips were lifted from the ground. The Kina swung its arm and hurled them across the moat toward the far side.
The thrown orcs landed squarely in the middle of the mass gathered there.
The orc at the very front—just about to cross—was crushed under the falling body and buckled backward, slamming into the orc behind it. The leg of an orc to the side got tangled, and it lost its footing. Three orcs went down together. The orcs charging up from behind plowed into them, bodies piling on top of each other, and those pinned beneath were shoved and ground together in a writhing heap.
In the chaos, one orc broke from the pack and turned to flee. The Kina wheeled toward it.
The Kina's hand—taloned like a bird of prey, iron-plated at the palm and joints, three massive hooked fingers of black metal—descended toward the orc.
The hooked fingers, iron-capped and filed to a point, closed precisely on the orc's shoulder. With a grinding crack of bone and muscle, the black fingers drove through the leather armor and pierced clean through.
"Gwaakh!"
The orc was wrenched into the air with a raw, piercing cry. As the Kina drew its arm back, the orc's legs kicked wildly, its body twisting against itself. The Kina moved forward with the orc still skewered on its fingertips, closing on the others.
The Kina's footsteps did not stop. With every stride, orcs were pressed into the mud beneath. Crushed shields and splintered axe hafts and helmets mixed into the earth and choked the ground underfoot. Salma and the Mosrow Kina that followed advanced without stopping—forward, into the orc mass.
The iron plates covering the Kina's shoulders shifted and struck each other.
Clang.
The metal sheathing the leg joints folded, and a brief scraping sound came from within.
Clank. Clang.
With every stride the Kina took, the sounds continued—unbroken.
On the day the Kina had first appeared in the distant western wastes of Damu, a witness to that battle had spoken a single word:
Fearnought.
Guardians of the Dawi and Muwa, who know no fear.
No one had ever seen the guardians of Damu—wrought in the temple of Na-Woul—march onto a field of battle gripped by fear.
Orcs could block the way. Minotaurs could charge. Arrows could sink into their frames. Spears, axes, swords—none of it stopped them.
The Kina's steps toward the enemy never ceased.
*****
Bejede's voice rang across the battlefield.
"Follow me!! Five Kina!! We cross the moat!!"
As Bejede's Kina thrust its arm toward the far bank, four more Kina fell in behind and began to lower their stances.
The motion was slow. The wooden joints of the Kina's knees creaked and groaned under the pressure.
Weight shifted forward as the Kina leaned into the coming leap.
Then the Kina's feet drove into the earth and pushed off.
The moment the feet left the ground, the soil beneath caved inward from the force—the massive weight of the Kina converted in a single instant into the power of the leap. The Kina launched into the air.
A bound that tore the enormous body of the Kina free from the earth.
A giant wrought of great timbers, arcing across the full width of the moat in a single parabolic sweep.
On the far bank, the orcs stared with wide eyes as the Kina bore down on them.
A long tail of black smoke and mist stretched through the air behind the descending Kina.
The Kina was crossing the moat—falling from the sky. More orcs that had been moving froze in place and looked up.
It was coming down. The orcs nearest the landing point turned and tried to run. Those behind were shoved back by the surge, and the formation collapsed. Orcs trying to flee tangled with those still pressing forward.
KRAOOM!
The Kina's feet struck the ground.
The soil at the point of impact was driven outward. The surface cracked open and shallow fissures ran out from the center.
The Kina's knees bent. The thick armor plates ground against each other and clanged as they absorbed the impact.
The moment the Kina's full weight settled, the earth beneath its feet caved once more. The ground around the impact was left sunken lower than everything around it.
At the same moment, the Kina's body rebounded upward. The joints—compressed on landing—realigned as the Kina straightened.
The ground where the Kina stood was deeply scarred. Ahead, on the far side of the moat, a mass of orcs stretched without number. Through the trees and scrub, there was nothing but orcs.
One by one, the remaining four Kina came down behind. Bejede's Kina set down next. Then the other three followed in succession. Five heavy impacts rang out in close sequence.
Bejede leaned out of the cockpit and looked down. The orcs were running. Tangled together, shoving, falling over one another.
The corners of Bejede's mouth pulled into a grin.
"What are you lot standing there gawking at, you orc bastards."
Bejede's Kina raised its right arm slowly out to the side. Unlike the other Kina's arms, this one was different. In place of a hand, thick iron chains were coiled around the end of the arm. Each link was crusted with rust and dried blood. Hanging from the end was a heavy iron ball—a steel flail with thick, dense spikes covering every surface.
Clang.
The chains uncoiled and fell slack. Clang— Clang— Unable to resist their own weight, the iron ball dragged downward and scraped along the ground. The earth was gouged. The spike-tips bit into the mud.
One orc charging forward stopped dead at the sight of it.
Bejede's Kina drew its arm back. The chains snapped taut and the iron ball lifted from the ground. Then the arm swung wide to the side, tracing a great sweeping arc.
The chains cut through the air. The iron ball gathered speed in an instant, carving its trajectory. The orcs had no time to dodge. Five or six fleeing orcs were directly in its path.
BOOM!
The spiked iron ball tore through them. Orcs struck by the blow were sent flying sideways, limbs thrown wide. The sounds of armor buckling and bones snapping mixed together. Two of them careened into each other and rolled far across the ground.
The iron ball reached the end of its arc and was pulled back.
The chains snapped taut and reversed the trajectory. Back the way it came— another cluster of orcs that hadn't yet fled stood directly in its path.
One orc turned its head.
Its eyes found the iron ball hurtling toward it.
A mass of steel larger than its own torso was coming—spikes forward.
There was no time to find a direction to run. Its feet tangled. The orc threw both arms up—pure instinct. Whether it meant to block or simply to cover its face, there was no knowing.
CRUNCH—
The flail's spikes drove through the orc's forearm. The momentum carried straight through into its upper body. The sound of bones breaking was swallowed up by the rush of air as the iron ball passed.
The orc flew—arm still run through—and when the spikes tore free, it was hurled to the ground.
"Khkakakakaka!!"
Bejede's laughter echoed out from within the Kina and rolled into the open air. It was the sound that came from the joy that only a battle against orcs—fought with his full strength, with every intention of killing—could draw out of him.
"You won't get away!! Where do you think you're going!! Where?!!"
Bejede's Kina stepped forward. Both feet advanced in alternating strides, stepping over fallen orcs as it went.
Bejede's Kina turned its head back toward the four Kina following behind.
"Kill them all!! Not one orc, not one minotaur—leave nothing standing!! Wipe every last one of them out!!"
The four Kina moved.
Then, at the edge of Bejede's vision, a Minotaur entered the frame. Several times the size of an orc. An axe in each hand, charging straight for Bejede's Kina. The sound of its hooves striking the earth came in heavy, rhythmic thuds.
Clang— Clang— The iron chains of the right arm scraped along the ground. Bejede's Kina raised the arm high and wide. The chains pulled taut. The iron ball soared into the air.
And came down.
The Kina's arm drove from high above—downward, with full weight behind it. The spiked iron ball fell with terrible speed.
KRAOOM!!
The spiked steel flail swallowed the Minotaur's head and shoulder whole. The protruding spikes punched through the helmet and buried themselves in the skull beneath.
The Minotaur's form collapsed inward and crumpled to the ground.
As the iron ball drove into the earth, the mud it displaced burst and spattered outward in all directions.
When Bejede's Kina raised its arm again and the iron ball lifted on its chain, what remained beneath could no longer be called a Minotaur.
Bejede's Kina stepped over it and kept walking.