War-Dancing!

The heroine stepped gracefully down the slope. It was covered in loose scree, and it would be all too easy for one pebble to start a rockslide. Her steps were light and precise, and not even one rock budged as she walked downward; but then she felt a blow as a rock hit her from above. She saw nothing; but, through her feet, she felt a rattling in the ground. Heedless now, she ran down the mountainside, careless of the stones that tumbled with her. The rattling grew stronger, and soon was audible: a rhythmic, fast-paced thumping, issuing from the earth itself.

At the bottom, the heroine stopped and waited, ignoring the rocks showering down on her. No boulders came near her. On a neighboring mountainside, where her gaze was fixed, a whirling metal shape appeared. It thumped and tromped as it neared the heroine, slowly gaining definition and shape: a cylinder of dull metal, cut in swirling patterns. Machinery whirred inside. It came to a stop before the heroine. A third its height and a hundredth its weight, she stared up at it fearlessly.


It kneeled down to look at her. "I am the War-Dancer. Why are you in my mountains?"

The heroine responded confidently, "I wanted to cross to the other side."

The War-Dancer laughed; a harsh, buzzing laugh. "Of course you did. And what would happen were I to ignore your trespass, and let you pass through unharmed?"

"Why, I should remember your ambush and murder of fellow travelers, and be forced to take revenge," the heroine said, somewhat smugly.

"Well, then," the War-Dancer said, and began to whirl, stomping with a distinctive, heart-pounding beat. The heroine found her foot tapping, and stopped herself, bracing for action. Flashing metal spat out of the War-Dancer's top, then spun away, whirling a humming counterpoint. The War-Dancer spun toward the heroine, raising a foot to crush her almost before she realized that she was under attack-

The heroine, slightly dusty, came to her feet as the War-Dancer finished its spin. It asked, politely, "Pardon - was there a bit of a gap there for you?"

"There always is," the heroine answered, watching the War-Dancer more carefully. Her smirk was gone. "It's my - talent. When I'm attacked, sentience lapses. I've trained myself so that my body will take over, evading attacks. But memory can't cover the gap."

"That makes no sense," the War-Dancer complained in its buzzing voice, shifting from side to side.

"It makes perfect sense," the heroine retorted.

Spitting out two more shards of metal from its top, the War-Dancer asked: "What happens if I do this?" The shards turned in midair and flew at the heroine, aiming for the heart -

Metal dust floated down to the ground, sparkling in the afternoon light.

"That's impossible," the War-Dancer stated flatly.

The heroine raised her hands palms-up. "Judging from the scrapes, I think I grabbed both of them and smashed them into each other over and over again. They cut themselves to pieces." She sounded - surprised - hurt. Blood dripped slowly from her lacerated hands.

The War-Dancer began to spin up again, massive metal feet stomping rocks into pieces. The heroine backed away, but the War-Dancer made no move to attack. Instead, it asked in its inhuman voice, "And what, impossible girl, happens if you are attacked by something that you cannot dodge?"

The heroine looked around, her eyes darting. Her reserved poise was entirely gone now. She heard a high, humming counterpoint to the War-Dancer's thumping beat - then she saw flashing metal. Spinning about quickly, she saw more; on all sides of her, approaching by the War-Dancer's summons. She froze-

The heroine smashed the glowing crystal against the War-Dancer's metal shell. It shattered, keening, and the metal shards fell to the ground. The War-Dancer was broken. From within its body, the heroine watched the War-Dancer come to a slow, stumbling halt, falling tilted onto the slope. It watched her; crystal lenses focusing on her from inside the shell. "You've killed me." it said, buzzing.

Saying nothing, the heroine tried to regain her bearings. Unsteadily, she stood up, and began climbing out of the War-Dancer.

It spoke again. "I - took precautions, this time. Not enough. But. I set a - recording - meme - to watch. To remember." A harsh, grating noise that might have been intended as a laugh issued from a set of mis-matched gears. The heroine snatched her hand back, and found another hand-hold, clambering upward.

"You - when you are - attacked. You are not the same - person. One body. Two minds." The lenses swiveled to watch the heroine as she reached the rim of the War-Dancer's body, and jumped off to the rocky slope below. She knew they were watching her still, through the slots in its body.

"My kin will be - warned," the War-Dancer said, its voice quieting with every pause. Gears slowed to a halt, pistons locked in place. "They will - know. You - impossible girl - one day, you will give up your body, and you will not get it back."

The heroine walked away, climbing the opposite slope. Her face was impassive. As the sun moved through the sky, she vanished over the ridgeline. The War-Dancer moved not at all.