You can read the first part here.
Crouching
in the tall corn, Daniel gripped his hammer until his knuckles turned
white. He could feel the earth shaking with each step. Waiting,
willing himself to be motionless, he tried to banish the undercurrent
of fear that curdled in his stomach.
Six years
had passed. Six years, but the Reaver had always returned, lurching
unsteadily through the chest-high corn. Daniel had watched, had
talked with the other young men of the village, had plotted and laid
plans.
Across
the field, from the stand of old and grizzled oaks, Daniel heard the
first pop of fireworks. Just as they had hoped, the Reaper
responded, ancient subroutines forcing the legs to change direction.
Steam hissed from escape valves and cracks as the mountain of metal
and clockwork began advancing on the trees.
As the
Reaper grew closer, a dark shape looming through the corn, Daniel
swallowed heavily. Their enemy was so huge. From across the fields,
the war machine had always seemed smaller. Less imposing. Glancing
along the line, he saw the same emotions, the same thoughts, painted
on the faces of his friends. Daniel held up a calming hand. Wait.
The
Reaper was almost on top of them. A leg stabbed down, only feet away
from Daniel's position. Just a little further.
Daniel
had chosen the most forward position for himself. He was the leader.
Bringing down the Reaper had been his idea. For that reason, Daniel
would strike at the back, waiting until the Reaper had passed his
position before beginning the attack. Even now, as he stared up at
the underside of the machine, a mass of gears, pistons, and armored
plates high above the young men, he was still committed to his plan.
Finally,
the Reaper was nearly past their position. It was time to strike.
Daniel tensed his legs, waiting for the next pop from the forest.
The next
firework exploded. With a yell, Daniel and his friends leapt up from
their hiding spots.
The
Reaper's response was alarmingly rapid. Jonah had shared much of his
wisdom with Daniel, before he passed, and Daniel knew that the
minigun, flamethrowers, and other weapons systems were broken. But
the Reaper was still massive and dangerous. The eight legs danced
back and forth, stabbing down into the earth. One of the boys
approaching from the other side, Jack, was caught by one of the metal
pillars, impaled, torn apart.
Daniel
dragged his eyes away, focused on his target. His blacksmith's
hammer was in his hand, and he swung it with all the force he could
muster at the nearest leg. The vibration from the blow threatened to
tear the weapon from his grasp, but the metal plates of armor on the
leg, weakened and rusted from time and neglect, shattered into
brittle fragments.
One of
the supports gone. A dozen meters away, he heard the crash of two
more legs giving way. Hissing steam gave the illusion of a scream as
the Reaver sagged, forced to use its remaining legs for support.
Above the
screams from his friends, battle cries and shouts of pain, Daniel
heard the pop of the next set of fireworks. Their time was running
out. Jonah had warned him that, after two minutes, the Reaper's
secondary defense systems would engage. Half of their time was gone.
Another
two legs, shattered. The Reaper sagged, coming to land among the
corn with a massive crunch. Daniel leapt forward, scrambling up the
rocky sides. The Reaper was like a hill, steep but spotted with
protruding machinery. The others, those that had kept both limbs and
wits about them, also hurried to climb.
Gazing
up, Daniel could see the red blinking light of the control center.
“The brain, if you can call it such, is beneath that,” Elder
Jonah had told him. “You'll have to smash your way in, cut off the
connections. It's the only way to make the thing stop, to truly kill
it.” Daniel put his head down and forced his arms to climb faster.
Continued here.
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