The Defiant Spark

by Annie Percik

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  THE

  DEFIANT SPARK

  ANNIE PERCIK

  FIRST EDITION

  First published by Fantastic Books Publishing 2021

  Cover design by Ramon Marett

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-914060-06-9

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-914060-05-2

  For Andy P, who told me I could.

  Acknowledgements

  In October 2010, I wrote a 1500-word short story about an engineer being called out to fix a magical artefact. My friend, Andy P, read it and said, ‘You could write a novel based on that.’ I laughed and set out to prove him wrong. Over a decade later, it turns out he was right!

  Many other people have helped me along the way.

  Thanks must go to:

  My team of beta readers for great feedback: Chris M, Simon H, James H, Hannah W, Jill B, and Jacqui C.

  Ann de V for wonderful shared writing sessions and helping me focus.

  Charlie Haynes and Amie McCracken from the Six Month Novel Programme for support, encouragement and structure, and to Cressida Downing for feedback and friendship.

  Anne-Marie and the team at Fantastic Books Publishing for investing in my story and helping me make it so much better.

  Juliet R for sage advice, much-needed perspective and for always being there for me.

  To my mum and dad – thank you so much for the endless proofreading and for always believing in me.

  And, finally, many thanks to my husband, Dave, for always being interested, for enraging me with excellent questions I had no answers for, and then helping me find the answers. Your feedback is hated and appreciated in equal measure.

  CHAPTER ONE

  When an unexpected mana surge set his breakfast on fire, Abelard knew it was going to be one of those days. But he couldn’t have predicted that before evening he’d have risked life and limb against a rogue artefact.

  He woke to find his chron-e-fact alarm hadn’t gone off and he was already late. Scrambling out of bed, he threw on some clothes and raked his fingers through his unruly dark curls as he dashed into the kitchen. What could he eat that would be quick? Toast? But there was no bread. Eggs were the only option and Abelard wasn’t prepared to give up on breakfast. He splashed some oil in a pan and cracked the eggs in on top.

  Within moments, the interface crystal on the cook-e-fact started to glow. Abelard groaned. Another mana surge. So much for breakfast. He reached to switch the artefact off but a blue spark of mana leapt from the crystal and ignited the oil. He jumped back from the instant blaze. A second of panicked paralysis gripped him before he hit the flam-e-fact button and a burst of freezing gas smothered the fire. Abelard let his breath out in a rush, but the mana surge was already travelling around the kitchen in a blue trail of doom. He watched in despair as it reached the wash-e-fact in the far corner and the interface crystal exploded. Stinging shards pelted his exposed skin and smoke mushroomed out into the room.

  Abelard leapt to slam the door and open the window but he was too late. The piercing shriek of the shrill-e-fact combined with the smoke and the gas from the flam-e-fact to assault his senses. He grabbed a tea towel and flapped it frantically but the alarm went on. Angry banging through the ceiling from the flat above added to the noise. Muscles tense and breathing ragged, Abelard abandoned the tea towel and disconnected the alarm from the mana supply. He staggered out into the living room, coughing and spluttering as silence descended.

  Anger surged through him like the defective mana supply as he left for work, face covered in tiny cuts and stomach still empty. Bloody artisans, living in their fancy gated communities with flawless mana flow. They didn’t care about the poor engineers and mundanes who had to put up with such things.

  Abelard selected his office building on the route-finder of his speed-e-fact and clutched the sides of his seat as the ancient vehicle heaved itself a few inches into the air. It juddered as it set off down the street, rattling round every corner.

  His boss was waiting for him when he reached the offices of Mana-Calls, where he worked as an artefact engineer. Derek Stanton was an imposing bull of a man, bald head shining under the lights, his expression menacing. He tapped his watch as Abelard scuttled past him to his cubicle. He was already on thin ice with Stanton for being late a couple of times the week before.

  Mateo Vega finished up a call in the next-door cubicle as Abelard slid into his seat. Mateo had sleek black hair and olive skin several shades lighter than Abelard’s mid-brown. His button nose and dimples made him look a lot younger than his thirty years and he grinned at Abelard, his dark eyes amused.

  ‘Morning, mate!’ he said as he cut the connection on his call-e-fact. ‘Got dressed in the dark again?’

  Abelard glanced down at himself to see his skinny frame encased in torn jeans and a garish, yellow and pink striped shirt.

  ‘Bit of a rush this morning. Afraid I didn’t have time to check with the fashion police.’

  ‘You have to own the clothes to be able to put them on,’ Mateo pointed out. ‘Doesn’t excuse that awful jumper from the other day, either.’

  Abelard sighed. ‘Do you ever get sick of all this?’ He gestured at their drab grey surroundings, where their fellow engineers sat in regimented rows answering calls.

  ‘Only every day,’ Mateo said, though his expression was still jovial. ‘Hey, I came up with a new idea for an artefact.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ This was a frequent game they played. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘The Vega fix-e-fact!’ Mateo announced with a flourish. ‘It would answer all these call-es and give the mundanes expert advice on how to deal with their malfunctioning artefacts.’

  Abelard chuckled. ‘Wouldn’t that put us out of a job?’

  ‘Well, Abelard my boy,’ Mateo replied, putting on a posh accent, ‘if I was really designing artefacts, I’d be an artisan. So I wouldn’t care about putting a poxy engineer like you out of work, would I?’

  ‘Thanks!’ Abelard aimed a punch at Mateo’s arm. Then he caught sight of Stanton lurking at the other end of the room. ‘Crap. Best get to it.’

  Mateo doffed an imaginary cap and they both set to work.

  Abelard grabbed a snack at his desk and worked through lunch in an attempt to appease Stanton. By the time five o’clock came round he was dreaming of a steak dinner. But one minute before the end of his shift Stanton appeared at his cubicle as if he had teleported there.

  ‘Abernathy!’ he bellowed, though he was only a few inches away.

  Abelard jumped and spun his chair around.

  ‘Emergency call-out to an office on the other side of town. Somethi
ng about a rogue post-e-fact. Get going!’

  * * *

  The door to the office building opened before Abelard even reached it, revealing a short, pale young woman with light brown hair in what Abelard thought was called a pixie cut. Frowning, she hurried to meet him halfway down the front steps.

  ‘Are you the artisan that’s come to fix the post-e-fact?’

  Abelard laughed but choked to a stop at her affronted expression. ‘I’m sorry, Miss …?’

  ‘Jen Blake. What’s so funny?’

  ‘I really am sorry. It’s just that I wish I was an artisan. But I’m just an engineer. An artisan would never stoop to coming out to fix a malfunctioning artefact.’

  ‘But you can fix it?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Then you’re more use to me than an artisan. Come on,’ she said over her shoulder as she turned to jog back up the steps. ‘I was trying to finish a mail-out and the post-e-fact went berserk.’

  Abelard hurried to keep up as she dashed inside and sped down a corridor to the lev-e-facts.

  ‘What exactly did you tell it to do?’ Abelard asked. ‘If you can take me through it, step by step …’

  ‘I filled the envelope tray. Then I attached my smart-e to transfer the specifics of the mail-out and–’

  Abelard held up a hand to stop her. ‘I think I know what the problem is. Post-es are McPherson artefacts and they’re notoriously temperamental. They don’t like interacting with artefacts made by any other company and the smart-e-fact is a Gadg-E-Tech product.’

  ‘That’s probably why the post room manager won’t let anyone else touch the damn thing. But he went home early and I really wanted to finish tonight.’ Jen stopped in front of a glass-panelled door. ‘It’s in there.’

  Through the door, Abelard could see the five foot high unit of the post-e-fact. Its drawers gaped open, envelopes and paper scattered everywhere, and the grasping metal claws that managed the post sorting flailed. A smart-e-fact was attached to the interface crystal about waist height from the ground somewhere behind the post-e-fact’s whirling arms.

  ‘I thought it would be the quickest way to programme it for the mail-out,’ Jen said.

  ‘It might have worked if the post-e was a new model but that one looks ancient so it probably needs manual instructions.’

  ‘Next time I’ll just stuff the envelopes myself.’

  Abelard took a deep breath and injected a note of mock bravado into his voice. ‘I’m going in.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  Inside, the post-e-fact’s arms were still thrashing and there was a worrying blue glow coming from the smart-e-fact. Abelard gritted his teeth. A mana surge could blow both artefacts to bits and possibly him along with them. He had to disconnect them, and fast.

  He lowered himself to the floor, lying down just outside the post-e-fact’s reach and inching along on his back until he could see the vicious metal arms scything above his face. Sweat prickled on his forehead and started dripping into his eyes. He couldn’t wipe it away without risking his fingers being sliced off. Staying flat, he pushed himself closer, the displaced air from the whirling claws ruffling his hair like a deadly caress. Finally he was able to reach up and grasp the smart-e-fact where it was connected to the larger machine.

  As soon as he touched it he felt a jolt from the leaking mana. Blue light spread over his hand, sparks crackling between his fingers and creeping up his arm. He tried to pull his hand away but couldn’t. His heart started to pound. The blue glow reached his shoulder and the tingle of the mana turned into a searing pain. He felt himself being lifted, though the post-e-fact’s arms had gone suddenly still. The last thing he saw was Jen wrenching the door open as the blue light washed up across his face and over his eyes.

  Everything went blue and then everything went black.

  * * *

  Abelard came back to awareness slowly. He opened his eyes to a worried gaze.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jen asked.

  He tried to sit up and his head swam. All his limbs felt three times their normal weight and there was an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips. Jen helped him into a sitting position.

  ‘You hovered in the air,’ she said. ‘Light shot out of your hands in streams. It picked up the paper and stuff on the floor and put it all back in the right places.’

  Abelard looked around him. The post-e-fact was motionless and the room was tidy.

  ‘However you did it, you’ve saved me having to clear up the mess.’ Jen grinned. ‘It’s a shame you couldn’t have finished the mail shot while you were at it.’

  ‘There must be a way to get the post-e to do its job properly,’ said Abelard, his engineer mentality kicking in past the confusion in his mind.

  Jen’s lips twisted. ‘I’d rather not have anything more to do with that thing, if it’s all the same to you. It’s caused enough trouble for one day.’

  ‘My job here’s only half done.’ Abelard clambered to his feet. ‘We’ve got past the immediate crisis but I’m supposed to fix artefact problems and the problem isn’t fixed.’

  Jen smiled. ‘If there’s a way to get the post-e to do the mail out, it would save me a lot of work. Is there another artefact we could use that it would be willing to talk to?’

  ‘Good idea!’ He beamed at her. ‘Hang on a second.’

  He walked over to his bag and rummaged through it. Most of his personal artefacts were made by Gadg-E-Tech but he thought he had an ArtCo add-e-fact in there somewhere. If Jen’s idea worked Abelard would have to endure some ribbing from Mateo when he told his friend about it. Abelard liked the pizazz of Gadg-E-Tech artefacts but Mateo was a staunch advocate for ArtCo practicality.

  Abelard produced the add-e-fact with a flourish and smiled at Jen. ‘Let’s see if this will do the trick.’

  He reached out gingerly and connected the add-e to the post-e-fact. Using the add-e as a bridge, he retrieved the smart-e from the floor and reconnected it. Nothing happened for a long moment. Just as Abelard was starting to think the plan wouldn’t work, the post-e-fact jerked back to life. Both Abelard and Jen stepped away from it, exchanging a wary glance. But the artefact merely collected paper and envelopes from its drawers, inserted them in the appropriate trays and got on with its job.

  A couple of minutes later Jen picked up the top envelope in the stack now waiting in the output slot, neatly sealed and addressed.

  ‘That was … really fast!’

  ‘All part of the service!’ said Abelard.

  He disconnected the artefacts and handed the smart-e back to Jen.

  ‘I guess your work here is done,’ she said.

  ‘I guess so. Don’t hesitate to get back in touch if you have any more problems.’ Abelard winced at the stilted official phrase.

  Jen laughed. ‘Oh, I’m planning to have as little as possible to do with this post-e from now on.’ She paused, then went on with a shy smile. ‘What’s your name, by the way? You never said.’

  ‘It’s Abelard.’

  Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t comment. ‘Maybe we could go for a drink sometime and you could regale me with other tales of your derring-do.’

  She wrote her number on a spare envelope and held it out. Abelard took it, dazed.

  ‘I – I’ll do that,’ he said.

  He dropped off to sleep as soon as his speed-e-fact set off for home and only jolted awake when the vehicle pulled to a stop outside his building. He made it into his bedroom and collapsed on to the bed fully clothed. The mystery of the blue glow, not to mention the miracle of Jen’s number, would have to wait for the morning.

  * * *

  It was Jen who was foremost in Abelard’s mind when he woke up the next day. A good night’s sleep had dealt with the effects of his post-e-fact adventure but Jen giving him her number was momentous. He couldn’t wait to get to work and tell Mateo about it.

  He reached to turn his chron-e-fact around to check the time and a tingle fluttered over his fingers. He snatched
his hand back, then reached out again slowly, nervous but curious. The nearer his fingers got to the artefact, the stronger the tingle grew. As soon as he touched it a blue glow started to envelop his hand. He pulled his hand away again but the glow of mana remained, crackling between his fingers as he moved them.

  Abelard spotted his clean-e-fact poking out from under the bed. He didn’t use it very often and it wasn’t charged. A crazy idea formed in his mind and he crouched down beside the clean-e-fact, reaching out with his glowing hand to touch its interface crystal. As skin connected with artefact, the blue light transferred from his fingers into the crystal. Abelard’s breath caught in his throat as the clean-e-fact came to life and started bustling around the room, sucking up dust.

  Abelard stared at his fingers, which appeared normal again. As he stood there, agog, the clean-e-fact ran down and ground to a halt but he hardly noticed. Only one set of people could manipulate mana directly and transfer it from one artefact to another.

  Abelard might not have been an artisan the day before, but apparently he was one now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alessandra stormed into Walter’s office on the top floor of the Gadg-E-Tech building, long blonde hair flying, heels clicking on the laminate floor. She strode up to his desk and slapped a sheaf of papers down in front of him.

  ‘What,’ she snarled, ‘is this?’

  He smiled up at her, all innocence. ‘Good morning to you too, sweetheart.’

  His dark hair was perfect as always, the silvering at the temples adding distinction.