by Eric Vall
From there, I dug a notch into the base of the tube to mark where I needed the shoulder stock to end flush against my collarbone, and another two notches marked the rear hand grip and the front hand grip as well.
With my marks made, I formed a prototype of the shoulder stock next. Unfortunately, this chamber housed two batteries in the 1940’s which powered the electrically actuated trigger, and this was when my nerves wavered.
When I’d formed the revolver, the clockmaker in Serin had saved my ass by designing the required gear mechanisms, and once I’d understood how they all functioned, I was able to take it from there in my replications.
Batteries, however, were nowhere in my bank of once useless knowledge from my life on Earth, and the closest thing I’d found to electricity in this realm was the moths in the Nalnoran jungle.
The Ignis Magic of the mages had been essential in powering the train’s engine, but I wasn’t about to install an engine on each of the bazookas.
I chuckled at the thought of using moths and rolled my eyes. They’d probably die inside the shoulder stock anyways.
“What am I doing?” I muttered to myself as I split off a chunk of steel to form the stock. I’d have to sit down and really think through the wiring of the trigger and the battery systems, but for now, I’d focus on getting the frame assembled so the technicalities could be addressed all in one go. Maybe I could rig all of the wiring properly and scour the book of runes for something to provide the spark I would need, kind of like I did with Big Guy.
I formed the right triangular shape of the shoulder stock itself and left the inside hollow until I knew what I could do about batteries. With the mockup melded to the base of the tube, I moved on to the rear hand grip that would hold the trigger mechanism.
First, I formed the hand grip in two pieces about two inches wide and four inches long. I would bolt them together once the electrical elements were rigged inside.
The trigger of an M1 had virtually no slack, so the pin that held the lever in place was stout and tightly bolted, and when it was pulled, the lever would press down on the trigger switch contact assembly inside of the hand grip.
This assembly consisted of a lower contact wire which would press into the upper contact wire when the trigger shifted it. The upper wire ran to the batteries in the shoulder stock, and the current of electricity would then travel through another wire into the chamber of the pipe to send the necessary spark to the brass mount on the rocket.
I formed the lever and mounted it tightly with a pin, but I only melded this and half of the hand grip to the base of the pipe. This way, I could rig the contact assembly later and close the grip when I’d finished.
The front hand grip of the M1 had eventually been nixed after the bazooka underwent a few upgrades over time, but I kept it since I knew the women would be operating them, and they might be needed for balancing the length of the steel pipe and steadying their aim. Creating this was as easy as replicating the rear hand grip in a solid piece with no trigger, anyways.
I was just mounting the front hand grip where I’d marked the notch for it, when I heard Deya call to me from the path along the cliff face.
“I thought you were all going to stay in the fortress,” Deya said with a confused crinkle on her brow.
I turned, and my eyes immediately fell to the sway of her hips beneath the thin skirt tied around her waist. Deya’s soft pink hair glowed in the morning sun, and her violet eyes shimmered lightly with the glittering waves.
“We were going to,” I replied. “Then the tide nearly drowned us, so we thought we’d play it safe. Are they still asleep up there?”
Deya nodded and quickened her pace as her worry only increased.
“Is everyone alright?” she asked and eyed me all over as she came to take my arm. “Were you hurt?”
I placed a light kiss on the crinkle between her brows. “Don’t worry, Shoshanne got us out of there.”
“Wh … what happened?” she demanded and finally noticed the mud had shifted drastically along the cliff.
I shrugged. “Just a storm, I guess. We were exploring one of the chambers, and the tide came in all at once and filled the whole damn place. There was about eight feet of water in the entrance chamber alone, it was ridiculous.”
“The tide does not rise that high here,” Dragir said as he came down the path beside us.
“It did yesterday,” I countered. “We had to swim our way out.”
Deya stared around the sundrenched cove. “The storm didn’t reach House Quyn,” she said, but I was already grinning at the expression on Dragir’s face.
“I take it Qiran forced you to come along?” I teased.
“Yes, he is not pleased with you,” Dragir informed me. “Nor with me. I have been demoted to babysitting my seventy-year-old sister for the day.”
“Sixty-seven,” Deya corrected.
“It does not matter,” Dragir said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is insulting regardless. I was supposed to begin casting armor for the guards today.”
Deya smiled sweetly and headed for the table behind me. “Is this another rifle?” she asked.
“Sort of,” I told her, and I lifted the bazooka for her. “Here, put this part flush against your collar bone, and then your right hand goes here … left hand on this grip.”
“Do I look very intimidating?” she asked as she let out a silvery giggle.
Dragir snorted as she sent us both a glittering smile. “Not remotely,” he replied flatly.
“I like it,” I assured her as she modeled the bazooka. “You could handle this one, honestly. Shoshanne’s gonna love it. The rifle has a recoil that knocks her on her ass, but a rocket launcher doesn’t recoil.”
“What is a rocket?” Deya asked as she handed the bazooka over.
“A rocket is the ammunition that fires from this chamber,” I explained and gestured to the steel pipe. “They’re kind of like the bullets in the revolver, but they’re shaped different, way bigger, and explode on impact.”
Dragir grinned. “Perfect.”
“Good,” Deya agreed with a curt nod. “You will be aiming these rockets at the Master’s army, right?”
I hadn’t expected Deya’s response to be so calm, so I just nodded blankly.
“I love it,” she decided, and the beautiful elf left a light kiss on my cheek. “I’m going to make sure the girls are doing okay after their scare last night.”
With that, Deya casually sauntered back up the path, and I raised my brow.
“She’s getting better with this kind of stuff,” I pointed out.
Dragir nodded his agreement. “She’s quite angry about the axe to the stomach,” he told me and gestured to where the tungsten axe had nearly split him in half. “I think it has made her more fond of our weapons.”
“You told her about the axe, huh?”
Dragir nodded. “She couldn’t help but notice you were badly wounded for a man who should have had the coin with him. I explained to her what happened.”
I grinned. “You didn’t tell her I nearly got my ass kicked ten seconds later right?”
“Of course I did.” He shrugged. “Luckily, I saved you with my daggers.”
I cocked a brow. “Is that how you did it?”
Dragir gestured to the table to change the subject.
“The bazooka is almost ready?” he asked.
“No quite … ” I admitted as I rubbed my neck. “This is a very basic frame, but there’s a hitch with the ammunition and the power so I’m just working on a general prototype right now. The sights are missing too, but once we test it out, I’ll get those positioned easily. I was sort of hoping you could help me get around a couple things with what you know about rune magic, though … ”
I eyed the elf warily as I explained this, but to my surprise he only nodded along without arguing against the idea.
“What is the problem?”
“Well, the first issue is weapons like this require a powde
r in the stock of the rocket,” I explained. “A spark ignites the powder to cause a small explosion that propels the rocket toward the target.”
“You do not have this powder,” he guessed, and I nodded.
“I’ve created something similar before for my other weapons, but I had the proper materials available back in Serin,” I told him. “Here, I wouldn’t even begin to know where to find bat droppings, but if you know the land well enough and could--”
“What is a bat?” Dragir asked in confusion.
“Well, there you go,” I sighed as my last idea crumbled.
Dragir considered this for a moment. “Would you require the rune I use to work with the spark you create, or can I replace this element as well?”
I raised my brows. “You can do whatever the hell you want,” I assured him. “The easier the whole rigging is the better. The spark is the other issue, and I do have a question about the overall effect of the runes.”
“Wait a moment … ” Dragir instructed, and he came over to study what I’d made of the bazooka. “Explain to me how this will function.”
“So, this is the chamber where the ammunition is loaded,” I explained and gestured to the steel pipe. “Like I said, this is a very basic prototype, but this is the trigger, and normally it’s electrically actuated, which is a problem we need to address if the weapon’s going to work at all. In this model, the shoulder stock, which is down there, is supposed to house two things called batteries that provide the electricity needed to charge the contact wire that runs--”
Dragir held up his hand to stop me there. “You make no sense when you speak,” he informed me and pointed to the trigger. “This causes the spark to release the rocket?”
“Kind of,” I allowed. “The trigger causes the wires to contact each other and create an electrical spark that’s sent through another wire to ignite the powder in the stock of the rocket. The powder explodes, and this explosion propels the rocket out of the chamber.”
“And the initial energy is contained in this portion,” Dragir clarified as he gestured to the shoulder stock, “but you do not have the material to create it?”
I nodded once more.
“Why do you put it there then?”
“Well, the shoulder stock also dictates where the chamber rests,” I explained, “and you don’t want that to change once the sights are mounted. Mostly though … at this stage, it’s useless in terms of the batteries we discussed because I don’t have any of the contact assembly figured out.”
“Good,” Dragir said. “Do not add anything else. Begin creating the rockets.”
I raised my brows. “You … don’t need any other mechanics?”
Dragir shook his head.
“You’re sure?” I checked again. “This is seriously only the frame … ”
Dragir nodded, and I tried not to sound like a pedantic jerk.
“Okay … because the wiring’s kind of crucial to the rocket,” I continued. “Usually, a wire is soldered to a band of brass around the nose of the rocket and then wound down the stock to the end of the powder chamber, and when the trigger mechanism pushes the contact, the electrical current is sent to this brass and down--”
Dragir halted me once more. “Again, you make no sense. I do not care about your currents or your batters, we do not need them. This trigger is all we will need.”
I frowned. “They’re called batteries,” I corrected, “and I know you’re new to this kind of weaponry, but I really don’t think you understand how necessary--”
“I understand you would like me to use runes on this, yes?” Dragir clarified.
I bit my tongue and nodded.
“Then do nothing else,” he assured me. “This will be enough.” Dragir placed the bazooka down on the table before he continued. “What is your question about the overall effect of the runes?”
I stared for a moment and looked between Dragir and the prototype I’d barely begun to create. The elf waited patiently with his usual stoic expression, and I decided not to argue with him any further now that he was being so accommodating. I just hoped he knew what he was doing.
“Umm … okay,” I mumbled. “My question was about your grandfather’s rune. You know how it’s only effective if you’re the one who engraves it?”
Dragir nodded.
“I was wondering if the same caveat could be applied to who uses a weapon,” I explained. “I’m not too comfortable having something with this much power floating around Nalnora, to be honest. I mean this respectfully, but … elves are fucking murderous bastards.”
Dragir smirked. “Yes, we are quite proud of this. Go on.”
“Alright,” I chuckled, “so … what can we do to ensure this weapon doesn’t function in the wrong hands?”
The elf cocked a brow. “You want the functionality to be exclusive?”
“Completely exclusive” I replied. “I think it’d be best to keep the operation to my women and I, and yourself as well. Maybe Rhys if he decides to join in on this … but no one else should be able to fire them if at all possible. Like you said, never create something that could be used against you too easily. The bazooka is not a weapon I wanna be on the other end of. Ever.”
“That is … difficult,” Dragir said, “but wise, and most likely not impossible.”
“Seriously?” I asked eagerly, and the elf shrugged.
“I will work on it,” Dragir told me. “This will require a different rune than those for the trigger and the rockets, though. We can start there for now.”
“Deal,” I agreed, but I wavered when I eyed the prototype. “You’re really sure this is all you need me to do? Because the wiring is sort of the powerhouse of the entire design, and without it you only--”
Dragir ignored me as he dug through his pocket.
“Stop talking now,” the elf muttered. “I brought something for the Mustang.”
Then he pulled two smooth pieces of metal from his pocket and held them out to me. There were two different runes etched onto the surface of each one, and a broad grin came to my face when I realized what they were.
Chapter 4
“You made the pedals?” I asked and took the slips of metal.
Dragir shrugged. “I believe the contraption would be more fun with them. It is more involved this way.”
“Dude, that’s exactly my point,” I laughed. “You get it.”
I moved to pull the elf into a bear hug, but he jumped back several paces.
“You’re not a hugger, are you?” I snorted.
Dragir furrowed his brows and shook his head.
“That’s cool,” I muttered. “I can respect that. High five?”
Dragir turned for the path without responding, and I smirked as his back as I followed.
It wasn’t even irritating being brushed off by the moody elf anymore. Knowing he could boil my blood, but probably wouldn’t, was enough to make me determined. As we began to head up the path to the cliff, I decided I’d get a high five out of him one of these days, no matter how many times he randomly walked off on me. Something told me he was a high five guy, he just didn’t know it yet.
The sight of the runes as the sunlight hit them caught my eye, and I trailed my fingers over the silvery etchings to feel the grooves of each stroke. Some were thin and looping while others were bolder, striking lines, but each complete symbol looked seamlessly balanced when I took in the overall effect.
I had just rounded the top of the path when an idea occurred to me, and I summoned my metal magic to send it through one of the pedals.
I slowed my pace and came to a stop as I began to sense the presence of the rune, and the sensation was the strangest thing. It reminded me of wearing Deya’s necklace, and how the runes felt like a thin veil around me. Only this time, the metal was veiled, and since I was drifting within the makeup of the pedal, I felt the presence of the rune as it affected the metal it was etched into.
The rune Dragir had engraved murmured quietly in my ear fr
om what felt like a foggy distance, and it sounded vaguely edgy, or antsy in some way.
I grinned. “This one drives,” I decided.
“How did you know that?” Dragir asked from beside the Mustang.
“I can hear it,” I told him as I joined him. “It’s kind of … energetic?”
Dragir looked at me closely. “You can hear the rune?”
I nodded. “My Metal Magic isn’t just for reforming or controlling,” I explained. “At first, I thought it was, but it’s sort of like a conduit, too. I can connect to it in any form and seep into the metal itself. It’s hard to explain … but I’m still here as myself, while part of my consciousness is in the metal. If I focus on the make-up of the metal carefully enough, I can even change it. Aurora says I technically am metal, if that doesn’t sound ridiculous. Lately, I can taste my gun firing though, and I only have to think of it to make it happen. That’s something I need to explore more.”
Dragir stared while he processed this. “That is remarkable,” he finally said. “Does each type of metal feel different when you do this?”
“Definitely,” I told him. “Gold’s sort of cozy but takes a while to warm up to, silver’s more accepting, or… maybe it’s more excitable. I prefer to work with steel just because it has a frequency that matches my own while I’m working, so it doesn’t matter how long I spend on a project, it’s comfortable and easy to be around. Plus, I invented a malleable form that’s practically spongy, it’s crazy. I’m curious about the tungsten, but I haven’t spent much time with it yet.”
Dragir shook his head and remembered to blink. “I was unaware magery was so complex,” he admitted. “I thought it was only controlling a single element.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, me too, but it changes over time. The more in touch you get with your element, the more you can do. That’s how I altered the soil at House Quyn. It’s not just telling the soil to change, I needed to seep into it, measure the acidity and the nutrients, and then I had to shift first. While I focused on these measurements and shifted my consciousness in response, the soil slowly shifted with me, and the balance was adjusted one grain at a time.”
