Sgt. Golem: Royal Mech Hussar - Books 2 & 3

It took all the willpower I had left not to rail against Rasputin's control. I feared if I continued fighting back, he would push harder and stamp out the last remnants of my defiance. I had to wait and stay unnoticed while I watched for an opportunity.

He had exerted control over me in a room filled with subverted Russian troops. He hadn't been capturing them in other places. Which meant, if my guess was right, that there was something about that place that amplified his power of control. I still clutched the magic detector in my hands; it seemed Rasputin hadn’t paid much attention to the details.

The smoke was still heavy on the streets of downtown Moscow. I didn't see any Russian troops around as I walked, but I wasn't able to turn my head and look about. I only stared forward and continued to march along. I had no idea where I was heading as I left the fancy buildings around Red Square and headed deeper into the city. The streets seemed dirtier and the buildings dingier as far as I could tell out of the corners of my eyes. The occasional warble from the magic detector started coming more frequently and with a louder tone.

Rasputin's stronghold was well away from the center of the city. The room where I had been captured in was a trap, nowhere near his main lair.

The farther I went, the more desperate I became. If Rasputin took me down into his stronghold while he still had control over me, I might never regain power over my body and mind. He would crush out the remnants of my will and leave me a slave forever.

I considered my options. I didn't have any more holy water. If I’d had some, I would have thrown my entire will into the fight. I would have been smashing the jar against my head, if I had to.

I was starting to consider the option of last resort, of snatching control of just one hand and shooting myself. Was that preferable to eternal servitude? Or would I be stuck as a passenger in my own body forever? Neither of those sounded like good options and I had never been a quitter.

My body was thrown off the stride for just one step. Look down. What happened? We've been walking down a clear road, haven't we? I noticed something out of the center of my view. It was hard to be sure of anything that wasn't directly in front where my eyes were looking. I had no control of that.

Then it happened again. This time, the stumble was more pronounced and I was certain I hadn't tripped over anything. I tried to feel it a little more clearly.

When it happened the third time I was sure. The ground itself was trembling. I had only barely realized that when it happened the fourth time and everything snapped into focus.

Footsteps. Colossal footsteps. Something huge was approaching. I felt a surge of hope. I knew of two things that, when they walked, shook the ground around. One was Karpov’s walking battleship. The other was Natasha's walking fortress, formerly Baba Yaga's hut.

Something moved at the edges of my field of view. Several figures were walking out into the street. I couldn't look straight at them, but something in their lurching style of movement chilled my heart. Zombies, lurching towards me. Would Rasputin simply feed me to them? Or with his negligent control would he accidentally allow me to be eaten?

They lurched closer, but I continued to stride blithely forward. I tried to weigh my will, if that makes any sense, and decide if I was strong enough to face him. He seemed to be giving less attention to my body now. But would it be enough for me to break free? If I tried to defend myself from zombies, but drew his wrath, it would be just as deadly as if I let them eat me.

I hesitated. Then they were on me, a grasping hand clutched at my sleeve, and the moan of their hunger filled my ears. I gathered my will for a strike. Suddenly, Rasputin's domination intensified. His attention dropped on me like a heavy weight landing on my shoulders. My head snapped around and looked the zombie full in its slavering face. I didn't raise my gun or try to break away. My body lashed out with the right fist and caught the zombie straight just under its gaping maw. The soft tissues of its throat crushed under my hand and its head snapped back.

I struck again and felt the bones of its neck break under my blow. A wave of amusement passed through me. I realized Rasputin was entertained by the power of this body. I hadn't been sure he would keep me around as a slave before or just destroy me out of hand. Now I was certain he would keep this body around as a useful puppet. With my will along for a passenger, or crushed out completely, I didn't know.

My head snapped to the right and locked on to a second zombie. I shifted my weight and my boot came up to snap-kick it in the midsection. The body folded in half around my foot and tumbled away. I completed the motion awkwardly. Muscle memory only gets you so far if it's controlled by someone with absolutely zero concept of martial arts. Whatever Rasputin had been doing with his puppets, it clearly didn't involve any sort of kung fu.

There were a few more zombies farther away and my eyes flashed over them briefly. Then my body turned and started to trot down the street with renewed urgency.

Rasputin's will lifted from me and moved on to other things. I felt a wave of relief, but I wasn't free yet. His brief, focused attention had left me feeling weaker than ever, and now we were moving towards his lair with renewed speed. The ground trembled under my feet again. A small flicker of Rasputin's will returned and my head snapped around, looking up above the rooftops.

My eyes locked onto a hulking, moving shape. It was Karpov's battleship. My spirits plummeted. My eyes stayed fixed as I moved forward, not even looking where I was going. Rasputin's will remained just a trickle. All he wanted was a view of what was out there. A moment later, it drifted away, satisfied.

My head came around as his will departed. I was looking forward again. That was a small relief. I didn't relish running straight into a zombie when I had absolutely no control. Even if I couldn't do anything, I wanted to know where I was going.

Suddenly the ground bucked and heaved. That was no footstep. That was an explosion, and a big one. The trembling started again, more frantically. It came again, more frantically. Then another, right behind it. Two sets of footsteps.

I felt a swell of hope, mixed with other emotions. Was it really Natasha's castle? Would she help, or simply lay waste to everything? Ahead lay a long white building with a spire over the main entrance. Somehow, I knew this was where I was being guided. It was directly in front of me and coming closer by the moment. The words on the building labeled it Kazansky Station.

At the same time, I saw something else: swarms of zombies pouring down of the streets in front of me, getting closer. Rasputin's awareness didn't feel any less than it had before. Would he intervene if I was being torn limb from limb? Would he even be able to use my body to fight those zombies off? If they got close and swarmed me, I very much doubted it.

There was a distant rumble of thunder, and then another, louder. The roar of an explosion washed over me, and I knew a shell had landed nearby. A heavy-caliber gun battle was going on, and that could only mean Natasha had arrived.

The zombies were closer now, and so was the train station. Any moment I would either be torn limb from limb by the zombies or get too close to the train station, Rasputin's seat of power, for me ever to be able to break free. His will would be stronger there, just as it was stronger in the places he had laid traps like that throne room. I knew it, deep down in my bones.

It looked like the zombies would get to me first. If Rasputin really wanted me intact, he would have to intervene soon. I waited, gathering the reserves of my willpower in my mind. The zombies got closer, fifty yards, thirty, twenty, then ten. Any moment his awareness would swell, and he would make me run away or fight them off. Or he wouldn't, and then I would know.

They were coming close now, and I saw the flicker of movement in the edges of my vision. I was about to be surrounded.

An explosion tore through the train station. I actually felt a slight lessening of his awareness, as the zombies reached me. I threw my entire will at his control. It was like throwing myself at a wall. Not a brick wall, more like a wall of really thick jello. Or was it snow? His will weakened. I pushed harder, and it felt weaker still. My awareness sank into his, and his rolled back away from me.

I could feel my limbs more clearly now, instead of distantly. I regained control of my lungs, and took a sudden sharp, deep breath. The putrid stench of zombies filled my lungs.

Hands grasped at my sleeves, slathering faces mere feet from mine, and then I was back in full control.

"Not today, assholes." I punched the closest zombie in the face, not in the mouth, but between the eyes. Its head snapped back with a crack of bones, and I shoved it away with a straight left to the chest.

Then I was lashing out as fast as I could swing my fists and legs. I leg-swept two of them, and they almost tripped me as they went down in a tangle of heaps far too close. I shoved another away, angling it towards a group that was almost on us. One had me by the shoulder, its teeth were closing in on my neck from behind, when I spun and hit it with an open palm to the forehead. Its neck snapped back but didn't break. I followed up with a left knife hand across its throat. I didn’t break the spine, so this only slowed it down, but I used the momentary space to grab its rotting clothes and one desiccated arm and swing it into a group of them on the far side who were almost upon me.

There was a gap in the crowd behind me to the left, not a big one, just an open space. I danced back into it to get clear of the piles of zombies I had knocked down or destroyed. The submachine gun was still slung on my back, forgotten while I had been possessed. I held the gun high, level with their average head height, so any missed shot might hit another farther back in the crowd. My short squeezes of the trigger fired one and two shots as I aimed for the heads. One, two, three, four down. I spun and worked my way through the crowd, aiming farther and farther away with quick bursts. As one fell, two more would take their place.

I had to get out of here, but which way to go? I still needed to move in and defeat Rasputin. That was my mission. Dare I get closer to him? Now that I freed myself from his control, would I be safe to go straight into his lair? I wasn't sure. I could fall back and hope Natasha did the job, but he knew about the threat she represented, and he probably had plans for that. Nobody could have plans for me.

But was it my role? This wasn’t my fight, wasn’t my war, wasn’t even my world. I’d been ripped away from my friends and made a pawn between powers, yet again.

Well, fuck that. Rasputin was a bad guy and he’d gotten on my nerves for the last time. I’d dealt with one tyrant already. Might as well take out a second and call it a good day’s work.

I started focusing my shots on the groups between me and the train station. As soon as there was even the smallest opening, I dashed forward. Weaving between the groups of zombies and firing short bursts where I had to, I made my way towards the train station.

My gun ran dry. I rapid reloaded with one of my two remaining magazines while I fended off groups of zombies with a barrage of kicks that would have made Van Damme proud. A snap kick caved in a chest, a side thrust kick split a zombie in half, a roundhouse sent a head sailing across the street. Then the magazine snapped in place. Two short bursts created an opening, and I was off running again.

The zombies were getting thinner now, and I was almost to the train station. There was a rending crash, and a building to my left collapsed. A walking gunship loomed overhead. Bricks showered across the street in front of me. I dodged the smaller ones and leapt over the larger chunks of masonry.

A huge metal foot slammed into the street in front of me. A barrage of brass shells of various sizes rained all around as guns thundered overhead. The battleship was locked in a gunnery duel with Natasha's castle. I dodged around the leg. It was rent in places, and steam and other byproducts sprayed from damaged lines. I had not gotten a look at Natasha's castle, but I was certain she was getting the better of the fight.

I was almost to the train station's wide glass doors when an explosion rattled the street directly overhead. Bodies and chunks of armor came raining down from the battleship above. I swerved the deadly hail. A metal leg swung past where I had just been, and I looked up. The gunship was staggering, stricken, pouring flames and smoke from multiple places. I adjusted my run, swinging wide, because I could see it was going down, and it was falling straight into the train station.

There was a terrific crash of metal and masonry as the armored walking ship smashed through the roof of the station. The front ticketing area was crushed to a pulp, and the arched girders that supported the roof over the tracks were smashed in a wide area. The front entrances were obliterated, but I found the side door several yards away and entered the burning wreckage that had been Kazansky Station.