Chapter 10
The shadow of the Iron Sovereign—a Korthusian dreadnought—blotted out the Oakhaven sun like a colossal blade. Below it, the forest of Oakhaven was no longer a sanctuary; it was a cage. The rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum of the airship's Aether-engines vibrated in Leonard's very marrow, a sound that signaled the end of his quiet life as a blacksmith.
"We can't go North," Leonard said, his voice straining over the roar of the wind. He adjusted the straps of the heavy pack on his back, his hands calloused and soot-stained. "The valley is a kill-box. We have to climb."
He looked toward the "Whispering Peaks", a jagged spine of granite and ice that pierced the clouds. To the locals, the mountains were cursed. To Leonard, they were the only thing solid enough to block a dreadnought's cannons.
Clara leaned against him, her face ashen. The "Pulse" had settled into a low, thrumming warmth, but every few minutes, a flicker of blue light would skip across her skin like static. "The climb will kill the baby, Leonard. I can barely breathe at this altitude."
"The baby is the only reason we're still breathing at all," Leonard replied, his gaze softening as he gripped her hand. "She fought for us in the forge. Now it's our turn to fight for her."
They began the ascent as the first harpoons from the airship slammed into the village below, dragging up houses like toys. The path was a treacherous ribbon of loose shale and frozen moss. Every step was a battle against gravity and the thinning air. Leonard moved with a mechanical precision, using his iron-tipped staff to test the ledge before allowing Clara to follow.
By the time they reached the "Spider's Pass"—a narrow ledge overlooking a three-thousand-foot drop—the Iron Sovereign had banked. Its massive side-cannons, glowing with a sickly green energy, were rotating toward the mountain face.
"They've spotted us," Clara whispered, her eyes wide with terror.
"They've spotted the Pulse," Leonard corrected. "The higher we get, the less interference there is from the forest. We're a beacon against the snow."
A green bolt of kinetic energy slammed into the cliff face fifty feet above them. The mountain groaned. A cascade of ice and boulders tumbled down, narrowly missing Leonard as he shielded Clara with his body.
"We have to move! Now!"
They scrambled through the pass, the wind howling through the granite needles like a choir of the damned. As they rounded a sharp corner, they found themselves standing before a massive, iron-bound door set directly into the mountain. It was etched with the same runes Leonard had seen in his father's Spire.
"The Vanguard Vault," Leonard breathed. "It's an Aetherian bunker. If we can get inside, the stone is reinforced with Null-Lead. It will mask the signal."
"Leonard, look!" Clara pointed back at the sky.
The Iron Sovereign had deployed its "Silver Hawks"—small, agile interceptors designed for mountain combat. Three of them were diving toward the ledge, their Blood-Steel wing-blades gleaming.
Leonard didn't reach for a weapon. He reached for the door's locking mechanism. It was a complex series of rotating iron rings, a puzzle only a Master Smith—or a prince—could solve.
Left three turns. Right one. Resonate at the center.
He struck the center of the door with his mace, a perfect, clear note that vibrated through the granite. The heavy iron bolts shivered and retracted.
"Inside! Go!"
As they tumbled into the darkness of the vault, a Silver Hawk roared past, its wing-blade slicing through the air where Leonard's head had been a second before. He slammed the door shut, throwing the heavy cross-bar just as a kinetic blast rocked the mountain.
The silence inside the vault was deafening. It was a cavernous space filled with the dust of centuries and the smell of cold, stale air. But as Leonard turned around, his breath caught in his throat.
The vault wasn't empty.
In the center of the room, rows of ancient, moss-covered statues stood in formation. But they weren't statues. They were —Aetherian Golems—the legendary guardians of his people, powered by the very Pulse that now burned in Clara's womb.
The blue light from Clara began to fill the room, jumping from the floor to the stone feet of the golems. One by one, their eyes flickered to life—not with the green fire of Korthus, but with the pure, sapphire glow of Aetheria.
"They aren't statues," Clara whispered, her hand resting on a golem's cold, stone hand. "They're an army."
A deep, grinding sound echoed through the vault as the lead golem, a ten-foot giant of granite and iron, knelt before Leonard. It didn't speak, but a psychic resonance filled the air—a message intended only for the High Warden's heir.
The Heart is silent, but the Pulse remains. Command us, Warden.
Outside, the Iron Sovereign began to pound the mountain with its main batteries, but Leonard didn't flinch. He looked at his hands, then at his wife, and finally at the army of stone.
"Valerius wanted to find the God-Child," Leonard said, his voice dropping into a cold, lethal calm. "Now he has to survive her guardians."