Iron Empire

Thirty: The Storm

It felt like a piece of heaven had fallen to Earth, so thunderous was the impact. My feet were thrown out from under me and the wind blinded me with snow. I struggled to stand up against the wind that now whipped across the mountaintop. Wiping snow off my face, I stared up at the source of the impact.

The mech was massive, easily three storeys high. Snow sloughed off its flat armour in miniature avalanches. This bastion of power was unlike any other mech I had seen before, and it owed its uniqueness to Dan Stonewood.

It was a Barricade, deployed in battle for only the second time in history.

Draco Fisk, who had somehow avoided the impact when his soldiers had not, stood up, brushing snow off his jacket with one good arm.

The Barricade, much like the many others that were now dropping across the mountain, activated its frontal shield and charged towards the Frostpoint facility, intent on ramming as many enemies as it could.

I was a safe distance away, but someone wasn't. Oblivious to his presence, the Barricade stomped towards Draco, each plated foot easily four times his height.

As I watched in awe, Draco stared down the charging mech, unflinching. In moments it would be upon him, unknowingly crushing him underfoot.

His pistol now held firmly in his left hand, Draco grimaced as his injured right arm swung through the folds of his coat. For a brief instant, I caught a glimpse of a small object in his right hand, before it disappeared back within his coat. The motion was slight, almost imperceptible.

A high-pitched static whine filled my left ear, louder than ever, before vanishing.

A moment later, the Barricade stumbled. The four-storey mech's angular legs seemed to give way beneath its body and it toppled sideways mid-charge, stride broken. A command capsule burst from the top of its armoured cockpit, spiralling drunkenly for a moment before regaining its direction and soaring into the sky.

The massive frame of the Barricade struck the ground, throwing me off my feet.

What the hell had Draco done to it?

My mind raced. Surely the object I had seen him holding hadn't been a weapon—it had been far too small, smaller than his pistol. There had been no sound, no flash of light, no perceivable change at all.

Yet the Barricade had fallen.

I scrambled to my feet, staring at the snowy trench dug by the Barricade's angular shield. Several yards away from it, Draco pulled himself to his feet as well, looking shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

He glared at me and whipped out a handheld radio.

"Deploy level one defences. I repeat, level one only."

In the distance, the facility sprung to life, massive doors grinding open. Countless bulky Goliath mechs appeared from the darkness, pouring down the facility's network of metal ramps.

I couldn't focus on that right now, though. I was too preoccupied with surviving.

Draco glared at me as he put away his radio. He stalked toward me like the grim reaper, raising his left arm to shoot. His hand came up empty. The gun had been lost.

Draco realized this as well and, with a growl, spun around and scuffed his boot through the snow, searching.

This mistake gave me enough time to continue my mad dash to cover. The broken section of the plateau was only a few yards away, giving me a ten-foot drop to the ground below. I slid down the rocky embankment just before a spray of bullets shattered the stone above me.