by Wen Spencer
“Our shields are not strong enough to protect us from bombs.” Stormsong caught Tinker by the good arm and made sure Tinker followed them out.
“I figured that,” Tinker said. The spells tattooed onto the sekasha were meant to counteract other sekasha’s attacks; their protective shields could only deal with swords, normal arrows, and to a limited extent, bullets. Tinker’s domana shielding spell was nearly impenetrable, but penetrating was only the start of the forces at play.
“Your shield won’t keep you from being buried if the roof comes down,” Stormsong continued.
“I fully understand the physics involved.” Tinker snapped. “I’m not going to do something stupid.”
They did an odd mutual herding back to the cars and then milled about at the—possibly—safe distance.
“So what do we do?” Blue Sky asked.
Tinker took out her phone. “Find someone that knows about bombs.”
#
The director of the EIA answered his phone with a barked, “Maynard.”
“I have bombs in the Squirrel Hill Tunnels,” Tinker told him.
There was a long pause, and then Maynard asked overly polite high Elvish. “Tinker ze domi, why are you going to blow up the tunnels?”
“What? Me? No! Someone else put them there; I’ve just found the stupid things.”
“Oh, okay,” and then Maynard leapt to the same conclusion as Stormsong. “Oh please god, tell me you’re not trying to disarm them.”
Tinker sighed. Why did everyone think she’d try? The only things she knew about bombs came from movies—which boiled down to cutting colored wire before a timer ran out—and a few childhood experiments with ANFO. Her experiments had been very educational on the destructive nature of explosives and how they could go wrong. “I’m not! I need someone to come get rid of them.”
“I’ll send my bomb squad,” Maynard said.
“You have a bomb squad?”
“Yes. So when we find bombs, someone knows how to disarm them. Give me your word that you’ll wait for the bomb squad to make the tunnels safe.”
Tinker sighed, recognizing the verbal snare that Maynard just put out. If she promised him, she’d have to keep her word, no matter how long it took to dispose of the bombs. On the other hand, there was no way she could attempt disarming the bomb without getting all the elves and Blue Sky involved. The bombs looked simple, but they could be booby trapped. “Yeah, sure. I promise.”
#
Apparently after living over a hundred years, standing idle for a few hours was no big deal. While her Hand were perfectly fine with doing nothing while they waited for the bomb squad, Tinker didn’t have that kind of patience. There were ironwoods growing beside the bridge into the tunnels, their trunks far below in the valley underneath the highway. After the sekasha triple checked the trees for strangle vines and steel spinners, Tinker settled in their shade to work on her datapad.
Inspecting the tunnels was just the start of the work needed to reconnect Pittsburgh to Earth. Next step would be pin down Impatience to work out the spell. Considering the fact that her Hand was in protective overdrive, it might be saner to put that conversation on hold. The dragon had the attention span of a five year old on a sugar rush. Having the large hyperactive dragon and the jumpy sekasha in one room together would be like doing cigarette tricks in a fireworks factory.
She leaned her head back against the concrete barrier. Life was so much simpler before she became an elf princess. The sekasha were just the tip of the iceberg. Almost everything on the continent was “hers” and she had no clue what the hell she was supposed to do with it all. She was a mad scientist. A hoverbike racer. A junkyard dog. What the hell did she know about being a princess? Did Cinderella have this problem once the prince tracked her down with the glass slipper? Was this the real reason she took off halfway through the ball? Did Cinderella see all the sekasha and laedin and nivasa and realized that all those people would expect her to be a princess?
What Tinker really needed were the technical specifications on “princess,” not fairytales.
An odd vibration suddenly thrummed against her awareness, like an invisible guitar string been plucked. Windwolf was tapping the power of the Wind Clan Spell Stone. A moment later a flash of lightning tore down from the clear sky, a jagged dancing column of brilliance. It struck southwest of where they were standing. Thunder boomed out instantly, confirming the strike insanely close.
“Oh crap.” Tinker scrambled to her feet. She felt another thrum of power, slightly different, and flame blossomed above the trees.
“Wow!” Blue Sky pulled out the camera. “What the hell is that?”
“Windwolf and Prince True Flame. Okay people we have to move!”
The flame strike had been close to the nearest on-ramp, less than a quarter mile away. The road elevated after that point; it was close to fifty feet off the ground when the highway entered the tunnels. With the bombs in the tunnel, the only way to safety was toward the battlefront.
Tinker hurried toward the cars, the sekasha flanking her.
Blue Sky trotted backwards, still filming, as lightning striking again—closer. “Coolness!”
“Blue!” Tinker felt a third thrum of magic; the Stone Clan had casted a scrying spell. In a weird other sense, like an invisible eye opened, Tinker could suddenly “see” the tight knot of domana-caste elves with their sekasha-caste at the on-ramp, and an unruly swarm of something racing toward her on the highway.
“We’ve got incoming—lots of them. They’re big and they’re moving fast. I think they’re wargs.” At one time wargs had been Elfhome cousins to wolves, but then, in some ancient war, were turned into oversized bio-weapons. “They’re going to cut us off.”
“Away from the cars.” Pony ordered. “Domi, shields.”
Tinker cocked her fingers and brought her hand to her mouth. Her domana shields were generated by the Wind Clan Spell Stones which sat astride a massive spring of magic. In theory, her shields could protect them from anything but it depended on her getting them up and keeping them up.
She spoke the trigger word that set up the resonance between her and the Spell Stones. It was if a giant engine just as kicked to life; magic growled deep within her bones. The vibration rumbled through her bruised bones. She barely kept from whimpering in pain. Power was blooming around her in a rush of heat; the wrong sound could be deadly. She pressed her lips tight, changed her hand position, and triggered her shield. The power shifted and changed and the wind wrapped her and the sekasha.
“Shitshitshitshit.” She hissed now that it was safe to talk. The pain continued to burn bright as the power flowed across the resonance between her and the Spell Stones. “Feels like someone is arc welding my bones.”
“Wolf is coming.” Pony wrapped his arms around her, keeping her steady against the onslaught of pain.
She focused hard on keeping her fingers locked into position even though she could barely feel them beyond the searing. If she moved her fingers, the spell would collapse. “He’d better hurry.”
Lightning struck closer and closer.
“That is so cool!” Blue filmed the sudden wild storm of lightning. “Can you do that?”
“Not yet.” If she could sense Windwolf, then he must feel her and was trying to stop the beasts before they could reach her.
The pack of wargs raced toward them, too many to count. They made a ragged wall of fur, taller than she was. The first one slammed into her shield hard enough to rebound a dozen feet, tumbling off its feet.
The next warg learned from mistake of its pack mate. The beast stopped, braced itself, and roared out white frost. The wave of magical cold struck her shield and wrapped around them, instantly encasing them in thick ice.
“Shit!” Tinker’s breath came out in a plume of mist. She hated that she could only stand there, hoping her shields held. She hated that if she flinched even once, they instantly become vulnerable to attack. The highway was lost behind the ice
wall, an opaque haze, marking the range of her shield. She couldn’t see the road, or how many more wargs were between her and Windwolf. “Oh, Windwolf, hurry.”
Fire blasted down on them, making her flinch.
“Nothing can breach your shield, domi.” Pony sounded so calm and confident.
The ice wall cracked under the heat of the flame strike and rained down in thick pieces to the payment. One of the wargs was dead on the pavement, a smoldering corpse, and the rest were retreating into the tunnels.
At one time she had thought that the sekasha were the greatest weapons of the clans, but then she discovered the truth. The warriors were mere escort for the heavy artillery that the domana-caste represented. That fact was clear as the royal troops moved down the highway in a wash of Fire Clan red. Prince True Flame was walking in the lead, all regal elf splendor in white and gold, the hot shimmer of his protective shield running before him. His Wyverns were behind him and a horde of laedin-caste troops were bringing up the rearguard.
True Flame summoned another strike with a quick series of hand motions and hard utterances and the roar of fire was deafening as it flared past her shields. It struck one of the trailing wargs, igniting the beast instantly. The rest, however, made it to the safety of the tunnels.
True Flame moved forward until she was behind his protective shield. “Are you hurt?”
Tinker knew he meant hurt by the wargs, so she said, “No.”
She was about to release her shields when Pony tightened his hold on her and murmured, “Wait for Wolf, domi.” Stormsong had shifted between Tinker and the Prince and a heartbeat later, Cloudwalker followed suit. Why were they leery of True Flame? She thought she could trust Windwolf’s older cousin.
Then she realized that Forest Moss of the Stone Clan stood beside the prince. The one-eyed and quite mad domana had come to Pittsburgh without sekasha or a household. Wyverns guarded Forest Moss; Tinker had missed Forest Moss in the wash of Fire Clan red because he had no Stone Clan black to mark his movement. The male watched her intently with his one good eye. His pure white hair was unbound and flowing in the heat that True Flame’s shield gave off. The left side of his face was an unreadable mask of scars radiating around the sewn shut lids of his eye. The right side showed hard, cold anger. Last time she’d seen him, he’d tried to kill her; no wonder her Hand was jumpy. Forest Moss was insane, but surely even he wasn’t crazy enough to attack her in front of True Flame and the Wyverns.
Where was Windwolf? She wasn’t sure how much longer she could maintain her shield. She was getting all weird lightheaded which usually meant she was about to go facedown.
A small knot of Wind Clan blue pushed through the royal red as Windwolf made his way to her with his two Hands of sekasha. He stopped at the edge of Tinker’s shield. His face was full of concern for her, making him look impossibly young. There had been a time where she thought of him as “lots older” and was only lately realizing that he was much a teenager as she was. Tinker dropped her shield and he swept her up into his arms.
“All is well. You’re safe.” He murmured, and she realized it was to calm himself as much to soothe her.
It did weird scary things to her heart to see him so vulnerable. It reminded her that he was out all day, fighting oni forces, with the Stone Clan at his back.
“Wolf,” Prince True Flame started toward the tunnel. “Send her home where she’ll be safe and come.”
“Wait!” Tinker tightened her hold on Windwolf as he moved to set her on the ground. “There are bombs in the tunnels. A blast could collapse the whole hillside. I called Maynard; he’s sending someone to disarm them.”
True Flame scoffed at her. “The wargs split up; they went through both tunnels. They would have set off any bombs.”
“Cousin, wait.” Windwolf put out his hand to stop True Flame. “The oni could be using the wargs to bait us into a trap. The beasts know this area. They could have scattered into the woods, but instead they chose to funnel us in this direction.”
“The wargs are smart enough to avoid a simple tripwire,” Tinker said even though she wasn’t totally sure that was true. It was as close to lying as she could get to keep Windwolf out of the tunnels. “Maynard’s people should be here soon.”
True Flame glanced to his First, who gave a slight nod in agreement with Tinker. The prince growled slightly in annoyance. “There’s no need for us to waste time waiting. Forest Moss,” True Flame waved the Stone Clan domana to him. “Jewel Tear.”
A Hand of sekasha with black chest armor and spell tattoos shifted forward. They belonged to Jewel Tear. Like Tinker, the short female was hidden behind a wall of tall warriors. Jewel’s First, Tiger Eye, stepped to the side to reveal his domana.
What was it about elves? They were out hunting oni and yet all of them looked ready for the red carpet. Jewel was wearing a forest green silk full length gown with a shimmering, overdress of fairy silk patterned with leaves. Her hair was the same dark brown as Tinker’s, but instead of Tinker’s jagged spikes of a haircut, Jewel’s flowed down to her ankles. It was braided with a glorious complication of pearls, ribbons and flowers. Two small stone orbs whirled about her head like she was the sun. The elf female was radiant and Tinker felt rough and unkempt in comparison.
It didn’t help to know that once upon a time, over a hundred years ago, Windwolf had asked Jewel Tear to marry him. Apparently he had a type: short, dark haired and dusky skin. Tinker’s only consolation was that Windwolf married her and not Jewel Tear. It was small comfort, though, since technically Jewel Tear had ended the engagement.
True Flame explained the bombs in the tunnel. “Can you contain the blast so it doesn’t damage the tunnel?”
“Easily,” Forest Moss said.
Jewel Tear eyed the tunnel more warily. She cast a scrying spell but the magic hit upon the steel reinforcements in the tunnel and tangled into useless noise. “Forest Moss is correct. We could easily contain the blast, but if there are other traps…”
“Pft, we are Stone Clan.” Forest Moss waved away her objections. “We have nothing to fear; we have the strongest protection shields of all the clans.”
Forest Moss activated his protection shield and marched fearlessly into the right-hand tunnel. There was a moment of hesitation among his borrowed Wyvern Hand; they were clearly not happy of having to follow the mad domana into danger. Jewel Tear was even more unhappy. She went up on tiptoe to whisper something into her First’s ear.
Tiger Eye shook his head, took Jewel’s hand and kissed her fingers. “I will not let you go into danger alone. My place is beside you.”
Jewel Tear sighed and smacked him lightly. “Sekasha fool.”
Tiger Eye grinned down at his domi. “Always.”
Her Hand gathered close to Jewel Tear as she activated her shield, and they went determinedly into the left tunnel.
True Flame waited until Jewel Tear was out of sight before turning again to Tinker. “Go home.”
It felt a lot like being sent to her room so the grownups could talk. Worse, it probably was how True Flame and his Wyverns saw it too. Even with her arm feeling like someone had beat on it with a baseball bat, Tinker opened her mouth to protest. Her mind was blank but she was positive she’d think up some intelligent point—eventually.
Windwolf kissed her. “Beloved, I’m proud you protected our people, but your arm is still weak. Anything could break it.”
“Damn it, I’m not a child,” she whispered to him in English.
“I’m fully aware of that.” Windwolf kissed her again. “There will be another day, after your arm is fully healed, when you’ll fight beside me. Today, though, you are hurt. If you break your arm again, the damage would probably be worse.”
There was a thrum of magic against her senses as one of the Stone Clan domana cast a spell. News that Forest Moss had cleared his tunnels was shouted from the entrance. She hugged Windwolf fiercely with her good arm, not wanting to let him go. She hated that she couldn’t do anythin
g to protect him.
“I don’t need two Hands at the enclave.” Tinker offered up the only help she could give him. “I’ll take my Hand with me but the others can stay with you.”
Windwolf nodded to her logic. Despite their innocuous appearance, the enclaves were fortresses complete with guards and magical barriers.
“Wolf!” True Flame called from the tunnel entrance.
“Keep yourself safe.” She said and let him go.
Knowing he’d wait until she was in the cars and gone, she left as quickly as she could.
She needed to know how to do the scry spell so she could see danger coming. She needed attack spells so she could stop it instead of just stand there and hope that her shields didn’t fail. She had the genome keys needed to tap both the Wind Clan and Stone Clan spell stones, and possibly even the Fire Clan’s too. What she needed was to learn how to use them.
Ironically, it all came down to having time. It would be one thing if she could study them on her own, but someone had to sit down and teach her.
“That was so cool.” Blue Sky murmured beside her in the back of the Rolls.
She glanced over and saw that he was replaying the footage of the warg encasing her protection shield in ice. She grunted slightly; it was incredible that the beast could generate so much coldness, but she didn’t think it was “cool.”
“How does it work? You’re not drawing spells on paper with grease pencils! He just—just—” For lack of words, Blue waved his hands in mad parody of the domana casting. “Whoosh! And boom!” He held out the camera, giving her pleading eyes for an explanation. On the display, he’d paused on Prince True Flame cocking his hand up to his lips to trigger the flame strike.
“I’m not sure.” Tinker said slowly, taking the camera, and stepped through the frames showing True Flame casting. It looked so simple. “But I think I can figure it out.”
