The Alpha wolf didn't growl. It revved.
A low, throaty rumble emanated from its chest cavity, sounding like a chainsaw idling underwater. It stood four feet high at the shoulder, its fur a patchwork of grey mange and copper wire mesh. One of its eyes was a biological yellow orb; the other was a shattered camera lens that flickered red.
"Don't run," Julian whispered, planting his feet in the snow. "If we run, they pounce."
"I can't run anyway," Skid hissed, clutching her broken arm. She gripped her heavy wrench in her good hand. "Julian, these aren't normal wolves. They're 'Scrappers'. They have hydraulic jaws. They can bite through a femur like it's a breadstick."
The Alpha took a step forward. The snow crunched under its metal claws. The pack—six other smaller wolves—circled the flanks, cutting off escape.
They're coordinating, Julian realized. Networked hunting.
"On three," Julian murmured. "I take the big one. You swing at anything that gets close to your legs."
"Great plan," Skid muttered. "I'll just bleed on them."
The Alpha lunged.
It was faster than a biological wolf. Its rear piston-legs fired, launching it through the air like a missile.
Julian didn't dodge backward; the snow was too deep. He dropped to his knees.
As the massive beast sailed over him, Julian slammed his crystal hand upward, striking the wolf's underbelly.
He didn't take off the ring. He didn't unleash a blast. He just sent a sharp, localized spike of static into the wolf's exposed wiring.
Zzzzt.
The Alpha yelped—a distorted, electronic screech—and crashed into the snow behind him, tumbling end over end. Its guidance system was scrambled for a second.
But the pack didn't wait. Two smaller wolves charged Skid.
"Get back!" Skid swung her wrench with desperate strength.
CLANG.
She connected with the first wolf's snout. Metal crunched. The wolf shook its head, dazed, but the second one clamped its jaws onto the wrench handle, trying to wrench it from her grip.
"Julian!" Skid screamed as the first wolf recovered and lunged for her throat.
Julian scrambled up, grabbing a fallen branch from one of the metallic pine trees. It was heavy, made of petrified wood and iron. He swung it like a baseball bat.
CRACK.
He caught the attacking wolf in the ribs. The creature was thrown sideways, slamming into a tree trunk.
But there were too many. Another wolf bit into Julian's left shoulder. The teeth tore through his coat, scraping against his skin. Pain flared, hot and sharp.
Julian roared, spinning around. He grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck with his crystal hand.
Freeze.
He pushed a frequency of absolute rigidity into the machine.
The wolf's joints locked instantly. It turned into a statue. Julian hurled the paralyzed beast at the others, knocking them back.
"The Alpha!" Skid warned.
The massive leader had recovered. It shook off the static. It looked at Julian, its biological eye burning with hate. It didn't leap this time. It stalked forward, its jaw opening to reveal rows of spinning, serrated blades.
It was going to grind him to dust.
Julian looked at the drones circling high above. He couldn't use a blast. He needed precision.
He looked at the Alpha. He saw the hydraulic tubing on its legs. He saw the exposed gear on its shoulder.
Every machine has a flaw.
Julian dropped the branch. He stood empty-handed.
"Come on!" he shouted at the beast.
The Alpha charged.
Julian waited. One second. Two.
When the wolf was two feet away, Julian dropped flat on his back in the snow, sliding between the beast's front legs.
He reached up.
He didn't strike. He grabbed the exposed fuel line running from the wolf's Aether-heart to its rear legs.
And he pulled.
SNAP-HISSS.
Blue fluid sprayed into the snow. The hydraulic pressure in the wolf's rear legs vanished instantly.
The Alpha tried to turn, but its back legs collapsed. It dragged itself forward, snarling, snapping its jaws inches from Julian's face.
Julian rolled away, standing up. He grabbed Skid's wrench from the snow where she had dropped it.
He walked up to the crippled Alpha. The beast snapped at him, helpless.
"Bad dog," Julian whispered.
He brought the wrench down on the Alpha's cranial processor.
CRUNCH.
The red light in its eye died. The engine in its chest sputtered and went silent.
The rest of the pack stopped. They looked at their dead leader. They looked at Julian, standing over the carcass with a bloody wrench and glowing blue eyes.
They whined. The network was broken. Without the Alpha's signal, they were just scavengers.
One by one, they turned and slunk back into the metallic shadows of the forest.
Julian dropped the wrench, his chest heaving. He checked his shoulder. The coat was shredded, and there were deep scratches, but the wolf hadn't hit an artery.
"You okay?" he asked, turning to Skid.
Skid was sitting in the snow, clutching her broken arm, staring at him.
"You took out a Scrapper Alpha with a tug and a bonk," she breathed. "Remind me never to owe you money."
"We need to move," Julian said, helping her up. "The smell of the Aether fluid will attract more of them. Or worse."
They continued through the forest, the adrenaline fading into a dull ache. The trees began to thin out as the ground sloped downward.
Suddenly, the smell of pine and ozone was replaced by the acrid stench of burning fuel.
They reached the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep, narrow ravine.
"There," Julian pointed.
Down in the canyon, the tail section of the Rusty Pelican was wedged between two rock walls. It was a ruin of twisted metal and burning canvas.
But it wasn't silent.
Gunfire echoed up the canyon walls. Blue flashes of Aether-pistols.
"They're alive!" Skid cried out, relief washing over her face.
"Wait," Julian pulled her back into the tree line. "Look closer."
He squinted against the glare of the snow.
There were figures moving around the wreckage. Some were the surviving pirates, firing from behind debris.
But the people attacking them... they weren't Imperial soldiers. And they weren't Silence units.
They were clad in furs and white armor made from the bones of massive beasts. They moved on skis and rode shaggy, six-legged mounts.
"Tribals?" Skid whispered.
"No," Julian said, seeing the banner one of the riders was carrying. It was a white flag with a red circle. "The Northern Clans. The Frost-Walkers."
"Are they friendly?"
Julian watched as a rider threw a spear that exploded on impact, blowing a hole in the ship's hull.
"I'm going to go with 'no'," Julian said grimly.
He looked at the wreckage. Lyra was down there. And she was pinned between a burning ship and an army of warriors who knew this mountain better than anyone.
"We have to get down there," Julian said. "Before they overrun the crash site."
"How?" Skid asked, looking at the sheer drop. "We don't have a rope."
Julian looked at the steep, snow-covered slope leading down to the battle. He looked at a large, curved piece of the ship's hull lying near the cliff edge. It looked remarkably like a sled.
"Skid," Julian said, dragging the metal sheet over. "Do you trust me?"
"After the wolf thing?" Skid looked at the makeshift sled, then at the suicide slope. "About fifty percent."
"Good enough," Julian sat on the metal sheet. "Get on."