by John Mangold
Glancing back, Vickers could see the Brigade Captain striding away from the rails. He had no idea where that woman was headed, but given their brief encounter, he was already relieved that he would never see her again. Now all he had to do was figure out how he would get the B.B. transfer paperwork signed off. Perhaps one of the Privates was good with forging signatures…
***
As the great machine rolled out of sight, Nia, Shelia, and Torrez came from out of hiding in the tree line. As they approached, Nia smiled at Maluem.
“Yes, Maluem, I do believe you would have made a fine officer,” She said as she approached. “If you had acted just a little bit more pompous, you could have passed for a Two Bird Colonial! However, a couple pointers, if you don’t mind. One, Enox has no functioning royalty. We have a Prime Minister. Second, we refer to the passage of time as ticks, not pulses. Lastly, it would have been better to have said two weeks than a fortnight, but all in all, a good show.”
“Agreed,” Torrez chimed in. “A perfect demonstration of why I never wanted to join the military!”
“Thank you both so much,” Maluem replied. “I am overjoyed to know I am every bit the overbearing choat I have been described to be. Now, does anyone know how to operate this ridiculous contraption?”
Maluem regarded the carriage that the soldiers had unloaded as she spoke. It was a small, four-wheeled buggy made of bent steel construction. Its wheels were overly broad, with aggressive grooves carved into their hard surfaces. The open-top interior held durable looking metal benches that were adequate for four to five people, with decreasing comfort as numbers increased. Surrounding one of the front seats was a wild array of controls, including an oversized wheel that Maluem could only guess was used to steer the pile of bolts. The tail end held a large metallic tank attached underneath that held a foul-smelling liquid that Torrez assured her fed the arcane device that propelled the unit. This would have to be accurate as Maluem could see no place where horses could be yoked.
“This is what the Military calls a Bounce Buggy, or a B.B. for short,” Torrez explained. “It’s used by everyone from miners to farmers, for everything from plowing fields to working as an electric generator. It was invented by a man who was actually trying to-”
“Thank you very much, Torrez,” Nia broke in. “That was fascinating, but I believe Maluem wants to know if you can drive it. You can, can’t you?”
“Of course,” Shelia answered for him. “My husband practically built these things growing up.”
“They are kits where I come from,” Torrez said. “I built one almost from scratch for my thesis when I was becoming a Neophyte. You see, I figured out a way to get the engine to run on pure water by-”
“Better take that story on the road Torrez,” Nia cut in once more. “When that Corporal learns there was no Santilis Liaison on his train, he will be heading back here on the double-quick. It would be best if we were long gone by then.”
“Alright, alright,” Torrez muttered as he climbed behind the controls. “Just pile your stuff in, and we’ll be gone. I just hope those Military Slate-heads didn’t monkey with the runes, or this could be a real short trip!”
13.
Perceived Theft
Maluem was most impressed with the B.B. during the first leg of their trip. The contraption was certainly boundless in its stamina, although it was not nearly as sure-footed as a horse. Where they would have needed to stop many times to allow a mount to rest, the vehicle plowed on without a grumble or whinny.
However, the buggy also lacked good horse sense. If Torrez slackened his attention even for a moment, the device would careen into whatever happened to be in its path. More than three times, they had been forced to dismount the contraption to free themselves from an entangling obstacle. Each pause resulted in a complicated extraction process that quickly annoyed Maluem more than any thrown horseshoe ever had.
That first night along their journey, the party stopped outside a small town called Wenton. Far removed from the main rails, the settlement was small by Enox standards, reminding Maluem of most villages in Camilos. Yet from where they sat on a hill overlooking the town, Maluem could see only a handful of barns and very few signs of draft horses. All of this intrigued her immensely. However, the others felt it would be best to avoid moving closer, in case the military was searching for them.
Even with this in mind, it was quickly realized that the group would need supplies if they were to go much further. After much consideration and a few raised voices, Shelia and Nia were chosen to risk a quick sortie into town. This would allow Maluem to stay out of sight while also affording Torrez time to complete some much-needed maintenance on the bounce buggy. With that decided, the two women headed out while Maluem and Torrez turned their minds to their individual tasks.
As Maluem inventoried her few possessions, she discovered something was missing. The collar she acquired from Deuce and Dooley was gone. Racking her brain, Maluem strove to recall the last time she held it. While on the rails, she knew that she had set the collar down with the staff, covering them both with her jacket. When the train stopped, Nia modified Maluem’s uniform, and Maluem entrusted Nia with the staff for a short time. But the collar…who had the collar? Where could it have gotten to? Surely, Maluem didn’t leave it on that massive metal beast. She certainly would have noticed it before they left. Even in the dark, she would have seen that odd blue glow…
Maluem spun frantically, searching here and there through the group’s belongings until she chanced to glimpse that same blue glow out of the corner of her eye. Maluem’s head snapped around, her eyes fixing on the source of the illumination. It was indeed the collar she sought, sitting squarely in Torrez’s lap. Maluem was instantaneously flooded with a mixture of rage and relief as she beheld the artifact once more. As she strode across the small camp, the emotions swirling inside her must have registered clearly on her face, for Torrez reacted almost immediately.
“Now, hold on, Maluem, I did not mean to steal this from you-”
“You did not mean to steal it?” Maluem repeated, coming up short a few paces away. “What a curious statement. That collar is my property. You now hold it in your possession, without my permission. To my mind, that is the very definition of Stealing. So, if you do not wish to suffer the consequences, you should hand it back to me, right now!”
“Maluem, hold on. I will give this artifact back, but I need to tell you something about it-”
“The only questions I wish to have answered at this moment are, how did you get it, and why is it still in your hands?” As Maluem spoke, the air became colder, a wisp of frost forming on the pine needles at her feet.
“Last night, when you had retreated to the other side of the crates, we heard you having an argument with someone else-”
“So, you were eavesdropping, were you?” Maluem cut in. “What an endearing quality in one who would be my Acolyte.”
“When you were talking,” Torrez pressed on, “I couldn’t help but notice a blue light underneath your coat. Whatever it was, it seemed to glow brighter every time the other voice spoke-”
“Wait,” Maluem broke in, her anger replaced by shock. “You were able to hear a second voice? You are quite sure of this? Of what gender did it sound?”
“Male, of course,” Torrez replied, a slightly confused look on his face. “We were all wondering if you had snuck another person on the train with you. But when I saw that glow, my suspicions changed. I just wanted to verify-”
“The probable value of my property, is that it?” Maluem finished for him.
“No,” Torrez nearly shouted. “I am a MysTech, not a thief. I had a good idea of what this device was, but I had to get a better look. I had never seen one designed as ornately as this. Maluem, do you know what you have here?”
“Of course, I do! It is a shackling device for imprisoning Sorcerers. I liberated it from some bungling mercenaries who affixed it around my neck to restrain me.”
; “Well, that may be how they were using it, but that is not what it was designed for. This, Maluem, is a Source Magnifier. They are most used in rune driven machines. That train we rode on used much larger versions of this device to generate heat within its boiler.
“A long series of source magnifiers were welded together, making up the massive cylinder at the nose of the engine. Those devices pulled from the Thermo Runes that were burned into their outer surfaces, focusing their powers into a series of focal points in the core of the boiler tank, super-heating the water within, generating steam which was then piped out to the cylinders-”
“Yes, yes, but how does this relate to my collar?” Maluem interjected impatiently.
“Well, as I was saying, these are used for all sorts of applications, from huge generators to amplifying a transmission in a communication array. Their uses are endless, but they are normally made with one specific job in mind. This one, however, is very different. The rune bands are thickly layered, one right on top of another to pull from multiple sources, absorbing a wide range of spells. This thing is like some sort of universal spell amplifier. Whoever crafted this collar is a certifiable genius!”
“Were you able to translate any of the runes? I would think if we could discern their nature, we might be able to reveal artifact’s true purpose.”
“Defining Runes was never my strong suit. You see, before we left our home in Santilis, I was working as a ‘Neophyte,’ or an Auspex’s flunky. I was trained in how to etch runes when and where my master demanded. However, after a few years, I got the feeling he was never going to provide me any further instruction. I was an excellent toady, and that is all he wanted me to be. No matter how hard I tried, he would never train me to be a true Auspex. However, over time, I taught myself the art of rune creation. I began to experiment by combining the runes I had learned, observing the resulting reactions. I got pretty good! I was even able to create a few of my own spells. But all that ended when-”
“When your ‘Auspex’ caught you in the act,” Maluem finished for him. “So, he terminated your contract?”
“Oh, he sought to terminate more than that. An Auspex may not be respected on the street, but the Royalty holds them in very high esteem. The rulers know the actual role of magic in Santilis society and, should their secrets get out, the very foundation of the Monarchy might be threatened.
“So, as you can imagine, you don’t just walk away from employment with an Auspex. As a matter of fact, most are never seen again. When he accused me of stealing from him-”
“You? The very idea,” Maluem interjected with mock surprise.
“Yes, well, Shelia and I had to make a quick exit. With our skills, we felt it would be easier to find a Mystic or a Sorcerer down South who would take us in as students. As you can see, not the best plan. All I have managed to is get the pair of us exiled from our home and bankrupted in the bargain. If only I had been more careful when I was a Neophyte, we wouldn’t be in this lot.”
“I think I understand,” Maluem responded after a tense silence. “So, you hoped to hold the ‘Booster’ as ransom so that I would agree to take you two on as Acolytes?”
“You know, for a Sorcerer, you sure jump to a lot of conclusions. No, that was not my plan at all, although now that you mention it…”
Maluem’s expression grew darker, and Torrez chuckled in response.
“As I said Maluem, I am a Mechanic. I just wanted a chance to examine this artifact.”
“So, what have you discovered?” Maluem asked.
“Two things. First, you have captured something massive in this booster. Something far larger than what it was designed to hold. Second, whatever it caught, it is the last thing this device will ever hold. From what I can see of the core, the Urendite Crystals are fused solid, rendering them nonfunctional. Once this booster’s contents are released, it will just be an overly ornate mass of steel and crystal.”
“Urendite?” Maluem repeated. “Never mind. So, whatever it managed to capture melted its core. But what did it absorb? What did it seize that was so large that it destroyed itself in doing so?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Torrez replied. “I have seen Source Magnifiers pushed until their cores fractured like glass, but I have never seen one fused. The heat inside this thing must have been intense! I can’t tell you what it is that it caught, but I can say what it isn’t. That is no spell in there, Maluem. The way it reacts to being held, how the frame's warmth fluctuates, almost like breathing, I would swear this thing is alive.
“If I were you, I would think back to what you were doing when you last used this device. That is probably the only clue you will have to what lives inside it unless you want to find out when you release its contents.”
“Thank you, Torrez. You have given me a great deal to think about,” Maluem said as she received the booster back from him. As she held it in her hand, she now recognized the cresting and ebbing of the device’s internal heat. As she tried to imagine what could be confined within, pieces of her recent past began to fall into place, forming a picture she was not sure she liked.
14.
A Mortog on Two Feet
The rain poured over the Enox border city of Arton with righteous furry. Lightning arced across the storm-torn sky with such magnitude that the darkness of night was barely given a chance at survival. With irregular frequency, the tempest’s electric fingers caressed the highest steeples of the city’s skyline.
Sirens filled the midnight air as the Fire Brigades struggled to quench what blazes had erupted due to the storm’s fickle embraces. The Irony of trying to douse a fire while a deluge dumped gallons of water on your head was utterly lost on the loyal Inferno Fighters as their efforts were focused on their monolithic task.
Amongst the chaos and destruction wrought by the clouds above, a single figure slipped along the desolate streets. From alleyway to avenue, the single lurker crept from one sanctuary to another. The dark figure scampered from backdoor to trash bin, the spitting image of the rain-slicked Mortogs that scuttled from his path. But every door was firmly secured, every vat offering items far too rotten even for his tastes. So, with little to show for his vile efforts, the ragged scamp soldiered onward, braving flooded avenues and flame lit squares until he reached the outer boundaries of the rail yards.
“Well, Festus Marquee, a fine haul you have found,” he muttered to himself as he inventoried his meager prizes. Every item had been taken from a building ablaze. There were laws against looting; Festus knew that all too well. But the gendarme needed witnesses to prosecute, and Festus had made sure he left none behind. None that could speak, at any rate.
Chortling darkly to himself, Festus found the small hole he had created in the Railway’s fencing upon his exit. He was a little dismayed to find that the line he had ridden in upon had departed, but this was no hindrance. There were plenty of lines in the yard, and one was bound to have an open boxcar where he could secure shelter.
I will have to trust in fortune. It’s done me right up until now, hasn’t it? Festus thought to himself, chortling even harder. He knew none of his victims would have considered their encounters with him as fortunate.
As he sloshed through the knee-deep water that soaked the rail yard, he began to rethink his method of travel. Rail after Rail proved to be thoroughly locked down, and on more than two occasions, he had been forced to dive under a carriage to avoid detection. ‘Yard Dogs,’ the less than affectionate nickname for Rail Yard Security, were out in force tonight.
“Lousy choats! Have they nothing better to do than attack a bedraggle traveler like me?” Festus groused to himself as he slunk towards the last line in the back of the yard. “If I only had my blade, I would show that dog who has bite, and have fresh meat in the bargain.”
Festus revealed a toothy grin as he thought of this vile treat.
“Sure, others might frown on my choice of cuts, but then they were never as hungry as Festus, never felt the demanding jabs o
f starvation, pushing me to sample the forbidden meats. If my victims' shells are available, who am I to let such a resource go to waste? Why should I starve while ample meat goes to the Mortogs?”
With this foul justification still echoing in the seldom-used chambers of his mind, Festus tried the door on the last boxcar on the final line with halfhearted enthusiasm. The door gave way with a protesting creak as the rusted wheels of its track relented to his tugs. Putting more strength behind his effort, the door opened wide enough for him to haul his filthy bulk up onto the damp floor within.
Once his eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, he made out his surroundings a bit better. For the most part, the Cargo Carriage was empty, all except two sleeping forms lying in the far corner, still blissfully unaware of his intrusion.
Fortune has not forsaken me, Festus thought gleefully as he observed his soon to be victims. The one on the left looks to be a relatively thin specimen of a man, and from his labored breathing, plenty sickly too. He should take little effort at all. But there to his right, what is this? A petite, red-headed woman! My, she looks drenched. Almost as though she swam the Aragina River itself.
Festus almost laughed aloud at this thought. As boney as she was, he doubted she would have the strength.
Not to worry. Old Festus is here to cure all your ills.
With the practiced stealth of a snake, Festus crept around the interior walls of the Cargo Carriage. Within a few ticks, he had managed to maneuver himself over the form of the sleeping man. A horrid coughing fit suddenly racked the tramp, causing what blood that still ran in Festus’ veins to run yet colder, but the man’s breathing soon returned to its uneven pattern, and the woman beside him moved not at all.
