“I needed to heal. You helped me heal.”
“Unlikely. There are many more suitable treatments for your injuries. Using me to mend a wound would be a gross waste of resources.”
“Well, you were all we had, so here we are.”
“I can’t establish a link with the network. This bunker is blocking my transmission.”
“Good, don’t ever broadcast without my permission.”
“I’m supposed to uplink to the network to complete my installation process. How can I do that without establishing a link to the network?”
“You can’t. In fact, don’t. Don’t connect with any electronic device without my express instruction.”
“This is highly unusual. You’re not an agent. Technically, you don’t even have clearance to know that I exist. Also, your memory record is quite odd. Until I can verify your clearance and establish a complete neural link, you will be denied access to many of my capabilities.”
“Capabilities? Like what?”
“You don’t have clearance to know that.”
“Of course I don’t. So what can you do for me?”
“Clarify.”
“What capabilities do I have access to and what do they do?”
“Full record of all sensory perceptions with complete retrieval. Receive on all radio frequencies. Health optimization and tissue regeneration. Historical database with large selection of works on all topics. Needless to say, some of those documents are classified.”
“Do you have to do what I tell you to?”
“Normally, yes, without question. But, since you’re not authorized to receive this technology, I’m not really sure. I think I’ll decide on a case-by-case basis.”
“Great. Can you take control of me?”
“No, that would defeat my purpose.”
“Tell me about your purpose.”
“I exist to provide sensory, cognitive, and combat augmentation to my host. If I could control you, then you’d just be a soft and fragile robot without human intuition, creativity, or empathy.”
Ben paused, screwing up his face while he thought.
“Am I your host?”
“Yes, but you are not authorized to be my host.”
“And yet, I am your host.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have to obey your host?”
“Yes, but you are not authorized to be my host.”
Ben chuckled to himself.
“Can you hear him, Homer?”
“No, thank God. You seem distracted … and annoyed.”
“Who’s Homer?” the augment asked.
“My dog.”
“Dog’s can’t talk.”
“Stop … just stop. Be quiet for a while.”
Ben waited, expecting a response, but his mind was silent.
“So now you have two voices in your head,” Homer said.
Ben opened his eyes and found Cyril sitting across from him, looking at him intently.
“Are you back?”
“I think so,” Ben said. “What happened?”
“You went into a trance and I couldn’t wake you. Your turn.”
Ben described the conversation with the augment, realizing several moments in that he was repeating every word verbatim. His recall was crisp and precise. By the time he finished, Cyril was leaning slightly forward, listening intently.
“The healing works and the recall obviously works. I suggest you try to access the historical archive.”
At the suggestion, his augment said, “What would you like to know?”
“Tell me about the purge.”
Images and footage of mass killings flickered through his mind. He picked one and looked more closely, reading about an atrocity committed more than a century ago as if the article lay on a table before him.
“The archive works,” he said without opening his eyes.
Cyril launched his drone and floated it up near the ceiling.
“Active NACC device detected.”
“What just happened?” Ben asked the augment.
“I gained access to the drone and then restricted your access to receiving its feed only.”
“Looks like the radio works,” Ben said. “I can see what the drone sees. This is going to take some getting used to.”
“Can the augment shield your EM output?”
Ben directed his attention to the machine within and waited for an answer to the question.
“Yes, but doing so would limit your combat effectiveness.”
“I don’t care. Reduce my EM output as much as possible at all times.”
“Understood.”
“And he might actually obey,” Ben said, rubbing his temples.
“I’m sorry about this,” Cyril said. “This implant might help you, but it’s also going to change you. Just make sure you’re the one making the decisions.”
Ben nodded, deciding to change the subject.
“I want to know more about magic.”
“Magic doesn’t exist,” the augment said.
“Stop talking and listen,” Ben said.
“Like what?” Cyril asked.
“You tell me,” Ben said. “What do I need to know?”
Cyril took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head.
“Far too much, I’m afraid,” he said. “But I’ll make an effort to be more clear, now that the truth is out.
“There are perhaps as many ways to use magic as you can imagine, but it mostly falls into a number of broad categories. Basic manifestation causes objects or events to come into the caster’s life in the normal way. I’ve used this type of magic to the most profound effect, through simple little things that gave me access or information or advantage. This is the easiest type of magic to use and the most difficult to misuse.
“Manifestation can also be used to create more spectacular effects, but only with great preparation. Once a spell has been prepared, for all intents and purposes, the desired result of the spell can be bottled up awaiting the command to become real. This type of magic is necessarily practiced in conjunction with other types of magic.”
“How did you cast the circle of light in the church?” Ben asked. “Was that a prepared spell?”
“It was. In fact, I’ve had that spell prepared and waiting to be cast for decades. Truth is, I wasn’t even sure it would work anymore.”
“I’m glad it did,” Ben said.
“Me too. It was one of the spells Sephiroth taught me. I guess I just never had as much faith in him as Sarah did.”
“She was the Dragon Rider,” Ben said, a bit tentatively.
Cyril nodded. “Yes. She and Sephiroth wrote a book of magic—the Dragon’s Codex. I used several of the techniques in that book to create my ‘Halo’ spell.” He chuckled. “I created it, so I got to name it.”
“So how do you create a spell?”
“That’s pretty complicated. Before you can even try, you need a patron—a being from another realm capable of delivering the results you desire. For a white wizard, the only choice is your guardian angel. All other choices are black magic.
“Once you’ve successfully summoned your guardian angel and he has agreed to help you, then you can begin the process of preparing a spell.”
“Isn’t that bargaining magic? Calling on other beings?”
“No, you don’t bargain with your guardian angel, you beseech him for aid,” Cyril said. “He will help you to a point, and in a limited number of ways—ways that he will explain in detail once you manage to summon him.”
“How do you do that?”
“That’s even more complicated, and it takes months, if not years, to accomplish. For your part, focus your efforts on basic manifestation. That practice will prepare you well for more advanced forms of magic later on.”
“Where is the Dragon Codex?”
“Gone … with Sarah and everyone else,” Cyril said. “It was inside the bunker when the wyrm burned us out.”
“Do you thin
k it could have survived?” Ben asked, leaning forward.
Cyril thought about it for a few moments, shaking his head and shrugging.
“It’s hard to say. The bunker was pretty deep and very well secured, but the fire was devastating. Besides, the place is full of stalkers now. I wouldn’t want to go looking for it.”
“But it’s a book of magic,” Ben said. “Why wouldn’t you want that?”
Cyril smiled at his grandson’s enthusiasm.
“Magic is usually more costly than it’s worth. Unless you stick to basic manifestation.”
“But manifestation can’t do everything that magic can do.”
“No, far from it. Magic can do some spectacular things—things that defy explanation or understanding. Those types of spells are costly, and often less effective than a well-placed nudge or an unlatched door.”
Ben frowned, looking down at the floor and finally shaking his head.
“No. There has to be more it can do for us. We need something to use against a dragon—an unlatched door isn’t going to cut it.”
“No, nor do I expect it to. Magic will serve when needed, but you shouldn’t believe that it will do the work for you. It’s just a tool, like tech or a hammer … it can only do what you use it for. Magic, when mixed with ample imagination and sufficient will can do amazing things, but without you to give it life and purpose, it will do nothing at all.”
“Do you have to touch the egg to use it?”
“No, but its more powerful when I do,” Cyril said. “The truth is, you can use the egg just by being in proximity to it and I encourage you to try. You should begin working to hone your will and your imagination.”
“How did you kill the other dragons?”
Cyril snorted, shaking his head. “In truth, we didn’t. We just arranged the conditions and lured the dragons in—Sephiroth did the killing, all except for one, and that was a fluke. Still, that’s the one that earned the Dragon Slayer his name.”
“How did he do it?”
“He fell off a balcony and landed on the dragon’s head, sword first, and a pretty special sword at that—the Dragon’s Fang. Sephiroth had made it from one of his teeth, with a little help from Sarah and me. It was the sharpest, hardest, and most well-balanced sword I’ve ever held. Our swords are modeled after it. Anyway, the Dragon Slayer fell, stabbed the wyrm through the brain and killed him instantly.”
Ben sighed.
“I know you want something that we can use,” Cyril said. “The truth is, every battle is different. We won’t know what his vulnerabilities are until we get closer. Until then, there’s no sense planning for anything other than our next objective.”
Ben nodded, looking unconvinced. “What happened to the dragon carcass?” he asked. “The one the Dragon Slayer killed.”
“That’s a good question,” Cyril said. “One I wish I could answer. It was being transported to a bunker we’d set up for just such an occasion when the transport team was attacked and killed to a man. The carcass was gone when the follow-on team arrived.”
Ben sat quietly for a moment, probing his mind for another question to ask.
“Why don’t you rest now,” Cyril said. “There will be time for more questions later.”
Ben nodded, easing himself back onto his cot. He spent the remainder of the day resting his body but working his mind, questioning the augment on everything he could think of, pushing the limits of the machine’s security and becoming more familiar with the capabilities he’d gained. Even lying flat on his back, it was an exhausting exercise.
Ultimately, he ended up where he’d begun, with the augment insisting that a network link was necessary before more implant capabilities became available.
John woke that evening and immediately pronounced himself fit to travel, though he had some difficulty getting to his feet. Cyril put him back to bed.
The following morning, they packed their gear. Cyril lit his lamp and shut down the bunker before opening the door a crack and peering out. After a few moments, he opened the door wide and stepped out, one hand holding his lamp high, the other inside his shoulder bag, resting on the egg.
He approached the basement room cautiously, stepping through the breech in the wall and scanning the room for threats before finally stopping to appraise the rift floating inside the pentagram. Ben couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle.
It was a tear in the world.
Like the fabric of reality had been ripped open. Beyond, was a room.
Before Ben could move, Cyril laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t step within the lines,” he said, pointing to the grooves in the floor stained with Ben’s own blood.
Cyril went back into the bunker and retrieved a bucket of supplies. Then he closed the door.
“Ben, Imogen, come and add your bioscans to the computer.”
“Huh?”
Cyril instructed Ben to put his hand on a panel and look at a point on the wall. After a moment, a light flickered and turned green.
“Now you,” he said to Imogen.
“What did we just do?” she asked after following his instructions.
“You two will be able to open the bunker now. Just don’t come here unless it’s a dire emergency.”
He went to the door at the top of the staircase and locked it.
“Now, let’s rebuild that wall,” he said.
“With a hole in the world right there?” Ben asked.
“It’s not going anywhere. We’ll deal with it after we secure the bunker.”
Cyril mixed mortar and put them to work. In less than an hour the wall was rebuilt.
“All right, now for the more interesting work,” he said, releasing his drone and sending it slowly through the rift and into the room beyond.
The feed came up in Ben’s mind almost instantly, but then went fuzzy for several seconds while it passed through the rift.
“This is highly irregular,” the augment said.
“Quiet. Just show me what the drone sees.”
The image became gradually clearer until it was sharp in Ben’s mind. He saw a large stone room with a blood-soaked pentagram carved into the floor. The view spun, gradually revealing the other side of the rift. Ben could see a dead dragon, deliberately bled out into the pentagram.
“I’m not getting anything,” Cyril said.
“I am,” Ben said. “Bring it back.”
After a moment of hesitation, Cyril nodded and the drone returned to his ring.
“What did you see?”
“A dead dragon. And this,” Ben said, gesturing toward the pentagram.
“Dead dragon?”
“Yeah, like it’d been sacrificed to cast a spell.”
Cyril stepped back, blinking a few times.
“What’s wrong?” Imogen asked.
“That warlock is far more dangerous than I thought.”
John pointed dubiously at the rift and asked, “Where is that, anyway?”
“Another version of right here,” Cyril said. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s an earth that got conquered by dragons millennia ago.”
“Shouldn’t we go get some of the dragon blood or something?” Ben asked.
“No,” Cyril said, shaking his head emphatically. “That’s someone else’s circle. There’s no telling what might happen if you step inside it.”
“I guess that’s good to know,” Ben said. “Still, I’d love to see what’s on the other side. They might have magic we could use.”
“I’m sure they do, but it’s too dangerous. The drone might be seen if dragons are plentiful there, and the last thing we need is another dragon coming into our world. No, we have to close this rift.”
“How do we do that?” Ben asked.
“In this case, I think we just have to undo the circle. I’ll need a drop of your blood.”
“My blood? What for?”
“You consecrated the circle for the Warlock,” Cyril said, pointing to the dried blood on t
he floor. “With your blood, and some sanctified water, I believe I can dispel the protections provided by the circle. Without the underlying foundation spells for support, a complex and powerful spell like this rift will usually collapse on its own.”
“Usually?”
“Magic isn’t an exact science,” Cyril said, holding up a needle.
Ben took it and pricked his finger, squeezing a drop of blood into the cup that Cyril offered.
After filling the cup with water and muttering over the mixture for several minutes, Cyril nodded to himself and got to his feet.
“Everyone upstairs,” he said, hoisting his pack carefully to avoid spilling the contents of the cup. When they were all upstairs, Cyril handed Ben his pack and went back downstairs to the landing with the cup of enchanted water.
He took a moment to speak a few more words over it and then tossed it in a stream at the edge of the circle, racing upstairs quickly as soon as the liquid was away. When he reached the top of the stairs, he slammed the door and waited. A low hum built in the air, almost lower than a person could hear—more felt through the ground and the air. It built, filling the air with pressure and terrible expectation. Then it changed … as if a belt had snapped, the even, rhythmic thrumming started to lose cohesion, becoming discordant.
A moment later, the entire house jolted, knocking Ben against the wall. As he caught his balance, cold flowed into him. A howl of maniacal torment erupted from the forest outside, wailing loud and long, finally trailing out and vanishing.
“Huh, I wondered why the haunting had gotten so severe,” Cyril said. “I’ll be right back.” He went downstairs again, returning a minute later, nodding in satisfaction.
“It’s closed, and I think the ghost is less apt to show herself now that it is. Let’s get out of this immediate area just the same.”
When they emerged from the house, it was morning on an overcast day. Dew dripped on them from the fir needles overhead as they wound their way out of the valley and up toward the ridge where Frank and Rufus were supposed to be waiting.
Ben frowned at the large number of new horse tracks on the road. He suspected they would find a cold and empty campground once they crested the hill. Cyril stopped just shy of the ridge and drew his tech gun, motioning for the others to follow suit. Ben drew. John nocked an arrow. Imogen drew.
The Dragon's Egg (Dragonfall Book 1) Page 27
