by John Goode
AS SOON as Kane was out of earshot, Ruber said, “You had to have seen that.”
Hawk’s eyes never left Kane and the rabbit as he spoke. “I did, but now is not the time to talk about it.”
“And it wasn’t the time back in my realm when he supposedly brought me back to life. You can try to deny the proof, but the fact remains, Kane is not what he seems to be.”
Finally Hawk’s eyes moved from Kane to Ruber. “My soul is linked with his. If there is another being in existence who knows him, it is me, and I am telling you he is exactly what he seems to be.”
Ruber said nothing, but it was obvious from the uncomfortable silence that he didn’t believe Hawk.
Chapter 3
“There are stories predating Titania’s
Ascension that claim that travel
between the worlds used to be far
more common than it is now.
Though there is no proof, it is widely considered fact that all
sentient animals can trace
their lineage directly back to the Wolflands.
Which of course forces one to ask the questions:
What else ended up stranded in the wrong world?
And how badly do they want to get home?”
Taken from a speech to the League of Extraordinary Thinkers
by Ignatius Doyle
Royal Historian of The River
THERE ARE tales that are not known to the general public.
Stories that are only known to a select few and rarely shared for one reason or another. Some of them contain sensitive information that the people in them would not want to be made public. Some of them describe horrible deeds that would chill the average man to the bone.
And some stories are kept secret because they contain clues to how the universe actually works.
From time to time, parts of these stories fall into the wrong ears and pieces of them show up in odd places. For example, take the story of Tinker and Jones. Though their workshop and sales floor were set up in the realm of Djupur Byrjun, the two inventors were not native to the Realm of the Earth. In fact, the origin of the two men was, for a time, a source of great discussion amongst people. Some assumed the two men were a pair of greater beings who had descended from the higher planes and brought with them the secret of instilling life into their creations. It was well known that if one was to open one of their inventions, what lay inside resembled nothing one would expect to find inside a mechanical creature. And though more than a few of their clockwork creations had been disassembled so the secret of their workings could be replicated, not one person had been able to duplicate their magic.
Other stories spoke of the two inventors actually being logic elementals in human form, for only in the dance of the máthēma would one be able to create such machines. These stories came from the few occurrences when the two inventors were overheard speaking in an unknown language to each other. People assumed they were speaking in the strange numerical language that beings of pure intellect had been known to use.
They were interesting stories, but they were all false.
There was one story about the origin of Tinker and Jones that is not told anymore. It said the two were actually refugees from The River and had brought the strange magic of steam with them. The tale said that the two men were once doctors in that odd realm and were focused on revealing the secret of life after death through scientific means. Though the story didn’t go into details of their experiments, it did mention that whatever they were doing was so abhorrent they were forced to flee for their lives to another realm completely. Only then did the two of them change their focus from the medical to the mechanical, thinking the problem wasn’t about introducing mechanisms into flesh.
But maybe the other way around.
These stories died out as quickly as they were told and before long vanished altogether. It is important to note the stories didn’t go away because of lack of interest. They went away because the people who told them went away instead. As an aside, most of those people… well, at least parts from those people… were attacking Caerus in the heart of the workshop.
From the small flash of light she had been able to raise after the flare went out, Caerus surmised that the creatures attacking her were mostly clockwork fused with dead body parts. The skin that was left was gray and torn, making them look like animated corpses. They rolled on circular buzz saws that were attached where their hands and feet should be. The sound of metal scraping on the stone floor echoed throughout the vast room. They were closing in on her fast, and she was dangerously low on power, so she did what any reasonable gem elemental would do.
She shut herself off.
On a very basic level, the only difference between gemlings and inanimate jewels is the magic energy that inhabits them. In times of great crisis, or lacking power, they can withdraw deep within themselves, leaving their bodies lifeless for a time. In most other creatures, doing something like this would be akin to suicide, since there is literally no way for the elemental to defend itself while it is in hibernation. The difference being, Caerus was as dense as any sapphire her size, which meant she was easily as hard as hardened steel.
When the first creature struck her, she went flying across the workshop, into the thick shadows of the massive room. The choppers chased after her, ignorant of the fact she was unaware of their attacks.
Upstairs, Ferra and Molly were well aware of the impending attacks. The first buzz saw cut through the wall of the waiting room.
“What is a chopper?” Ferra asked, gripping her spear tightly. She wasn’t going to engage an enemy she knew nothing about.
“Trouble,” Molly said, moving quickly to the couch, which had not stopped blaring “The workshop has been breached. Defenses have been enacted.” Ripping the panel off the couch’s side, she began to rummage through its interior, obviously looking for something.
“Can they be killed?” Ferra asked, taking a step away from the door as another buzz saw emerged through the wall.
“They’re already dead,” Molly said, pulling out whole gears and tossing them behind her.
“Lovely,” Ferra muttered as her eyes went from cobalt blue to pure white. The air around the door began to drop in temperature rapidly, ice crystals forming across the wall’s surface as she concentrated. The sound of the saws lessened as the ice slowed their progress. Slowed but not stopped.
“Are we fighting?” Ferra asked as the ice began to crack slightly.
“Buy us three minutes,” Molly replied, not looking up from her task.
Ferra knew three minutes might as well be three days at the speed the choppers were coming through the wall. Taking a deep breath, she gave a quick prayer to Logos as she dropped the ice. Almost instantly the first chopper came crashing through the wall, and Ferra got a good look at her enemy.
The smiling brass face mask made it look like a horrendous clockwork clown was attacking her.
With only a second to look, it was impossible for her to tell what was clockwork and what might be flesh, so Ferra stuck with the basics. Since the creature rolled on the edges of its buzz saws, she jabbed her spear into the chopper’s chest, using its momentum against it. As she spun it in a wide arc, Ferra focused her coldness beneath her, covering the area around her in a sheen of ice. At first the chopper tried to fight against the barbarian’s attack, but once its saws hit ice, it lost all traction.
Pivoting around, Ferra launched her foe back toward the small hole the other choppers were using to enter the room.
Since there was no room to move, half a dozen clockwork beings tumbled back, their saw limbs whining loudly as they tried to get free of the pack and regain their balance. Pressing the attack, Ferra launched her spear at the mob, drawing the cold back into her as it flew. It went from solid spear to a spout of water instantly and splashed against the choppers and the floor. They ignored the wetness as they slowly righted themselves.
Ferra’s eyes went white again, and the
water turned to ice.
There was a cracking sound as the ice hardened around them, slowing their momentum as they kept trying to get up. The harder they pushed, the more Ferra concentrated. She almost believed she might be able to hold them when she heard the sound of more buzz saws from behind her.
A squad of another dozen came barreling around the corner.
“We are out of time,” she called back to Molly.
“Almost there,” Molly called back.
Dots began to form around the edge of Ferra’s vision as she hit the limits of her abilities, but she refused to yield. The new choppers launched themselves over the tangled mess of their brethren, bypassing the ice block entirely. Pulling her power back, she let the ice around the downed choppers melt as she tried to ice the floor in front of her again.
“You need to make sure their heads are free of the bodies before you turn this off,” Molly shouted behind her.
“Turn what…?” Ferra began to ask as a shrill tone signaled from the small whirling gyroscopic device in Molly’s hand.
Instantly, the choppers fell to the ground, looking like puppets with their strings cut,
Ferra paused, unsure if this was some kind of ruse or not. “What did you just do?” she asked, amazed.
Besides the tone, there was nothing.
Ferra turned around and saw Molly lying on the ground unmoving. She felt her heart tighten as she raced to the clockwork girl’s side. “Molly!” she said, shaking her. “Molly, wake….”
And then the words made sense.
Whatever the device was, it must turn off all clockwork beings in the area. Ferra stood up and formed an ax made of pure ice in her hand. Without a word, she walked over to the first chopper and raised the ax above her head.
The dull thud was barely heard over the device’s tone.
ELVES CONSIDER themselves perfect.
Made in the image of Koran, the All Father of elvenkind, elves live by a strict code of conduct to stay in their maker’s good graces. They must pray four times a day in gratitude for the seasons Koran has blessed Faerth with each cycle. All food and drink must be pure and made by hand; no machines are allowed to soil Koran’s bounty. Men and women are forbidden to cut their hair, as it is an affront to the blessing of life that he has bestowed.
And there is no killing.
Killing here meaning murder. If one must hunt for food and sustenance, then one is to ask permission from Koran in prayer and thank the animal’s spirit once it has passed on. Never is an elf to take another’s life unless it is in defense of his home or in defense of the Word of Koran. Never are elves allowed to kill each other.
Unless the Right of Revan is invoked.
Revan in the elven tongue translates roughly to Koran’s judgment. It is invoked when one elf has wronged another and there is no other option left but death. Normally the wronged party can ask for Revan, and a cleric of the light makes a judgment based on the individual facts. If granted, there is no penalty for taking a life. If an elf takes a life without this permission, he forever turns away from Koran’s light.
And he is forced to wander in the dark forever.
Revan is usually claimed by the family of the victim. Once invoked, it falls to a servant of Koran to rule on the request. Which Nystel just had done when she asked Kor if he was going to kill Ater. Kor found he couldn’t answer the question immediately.
“I asked you if you were going to kill him,” Nystel repeated.
Kor locked eyes with Ater and saw the other man’s need to die looking back at him. “Not at this moment.”
“Then it falls to me,” she sighed, turning toward Ater, the air around her beginning to glow. “By the will of Koran, I sentence you to wander the dark no more—” Her hand became a glowing point of light.
Ater closed his eyes and waited. Pullus, don’t be angry. There is no life without you.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t taking Revan,” Kor called out, interrupting her prayer and Ater’s thoughts. Nystel looked over at him, and Kor nodded toward Ater. “He knows how my brother died. I want to know the details, and then his death is mine.”
The glow diminished and she looked at Ater. “Well, get on with it.”
Yes. Get on with it.
Kor got to his feet slowly. “With all due respect, I would like to talk with him about it alone.”
She glanced back at Ater and gave the dark elf a withering stare. “Very well, you are grieving so I will overlook the fact you violated the law by smuggling him into the city. However, I will not tolerate his presence a minute longer than needed. Get your information and then summon me so that we can get this disgusting business over with.”
Kor bowed to her, and she vanished in a wave of heated wind that reminded Ater of summers long past.
Seconds of silence passed before Kor was sure they were alone. “Get up. We don’t have much time.”
Ater, still kneeling, looked up at him, confused. “Time for what?”
Kor was already across the room, grabbing his pack. “To get out of Evermore. She’ll give us an hour tops, and then she will be back.”
“I thought you were going to kill me,” Ater asked.
“I do. I mean, I will kill you, but not here. Not on your knees like a dog.” Kor was tossing supplies into the pack hurriedly as he talked. “You are going to tell me what happened to Pullus, and then and only then will I end your miserable life.” He glanced back at Ater. “And when I do, you’ll have a weapon in your hand, so you’ll know you were beaten by a better man.”
Ater got to his feet slowly, unsure of what was happening. “So you’re sparing my life now just to kill me later?”
Kor stopped and stared at the dark elf. “You want to die. I can see it in your eyes, and I am not of the mind to give you anything you want right now, even if it’s your death. So just shut up and get the rest of your stuff out of the bedroom. We need to move.”
Ater took a few steps toward the room and then paused. “But you do promise to kill me, right?”
Kor sighed, and he took his quiver down from the wall. “Yes, yes, I promise to kill you in a slow and horrible way. Happy?”
“No, but it’s a start,” he answered.
I FOLLOWED the rabbit to the closest shelf of books.
He reached one of his gloved hands out and grabbed one titled The Legend of the Sus Family Slayings. He began to skim through the ancient pages, looking like he was the cutest librarian in the world.
“Um, I thought we were looking for time.”
He nodded and kept flipping the pages.
“Not that I am an expert or anything, but what do you think you’re going to find in a book?”
He glanced at me and made a tsking sound, which might have been dismissive if it wasn’t accompanied by a scrunching of his nose and a wiggling of his whiskers that made me laugh. “Have you ever gotten lost in a book?” I nodded. “Completely lost track of time as you read?” Another nod. “That, my dear boy, is the time I’m finding.” He grabbed the book by its spine and began to shake it repeatedly. At first nothing happened, and I was going to say something sarcastic to him, but then small motes of glowing blue dust began to fall onto the floor. “See? Time. All the best books are filled with them.”
I watched as he shook time dust out of half a dozen books, leaving them stacked on the floor as he worked. Hawk and Ruber came over and watched him. Within ten minutes he had a small pile of glowing blue… well, it looked like dirt, but he said it was time, so let’s call it time, okay?
Taking his watch from its pocket again, he opened its cover and exposed the clock face toward the dust. The dust motes began to rise toward the numbers, and the clock hands started to spin in reverse. Only a couple of seconds later, the clock reset itself to midnight. All the time had been absorbed. “By the way, do not read those books,” Milo said, pointing at the stack. “They will be the driest, most boring thing you’ve ever read, and each second will seem like an hour as you try to get through
them.” He shuddered. “Horrible thing.”
Hawk nodded at the suggestion, but I could sense from his thoughts reading was the farthest thing from his mind. He felt my mind touch his, and he looked over at me and smiled. I could feel a small but sincere “sorry” about not trusting my instincts. I smiled back at him, and for a moment our minds hugged.
Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but there are no words I know to explain it, so we mind hugged. Get over it.
“Are we ready?” Milo asked, closing the watch. “This is a one-way trip. I’m not wasting a jump just because you forgot something.” He smoothed out the front of his vest. “This whole endeavor has made me dreadfully late. I don’t intend to waste any more time.”
I erupted in laughter before I could stop myself and covered my mouth as everyone looked at me. Sheepishly I muttered, “I’m sorry, the White Rabbit just said he was late. It’s a nerd thing.”
Hawk rolled his eyes as he went over and grabbed his pack. “I need ten minutes to restock. No longer, I promise,” he added when he saw Milo begin to complain.
Milo let out an impatient sigh. “Humans.”
“So, what is your world like?” I asked him as we waited for Hawk. “Like, do you guys play croquet with flamingos and have a deck of cards as guards?”
Now, I consider myself a master of the language known as sarcasm. Not only am I a teenage boy, but I’m also a sassy gay teenage boy, so I was given my sarcasm card early in life. I’m telling you this so when I say this next part, I want you to understand I know what I’m talking about.
That rabbit looked at me with a stare that told me from this point on, he was always going to think of me as the “dumb one.” I could cure cancer, blow up a moon-sized space station, I could even figure out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, and that rabbit would just smile and nod because the dumb one did something semi-intelligent for once.
“No,” he answered curtly. “It is nothing like that.”
