Sight Beyond Epik Sight: A Steampunk Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 3)

by William Tyler Davis

  Schmilda put in, “But you see. he isn’t actually the source material for his writing. He was gifted, yes, but more with his hands—a tech mage, like Eddis. He began to write us letters, well, some to us, some to other wizards and witches across the realm.

  “If he asked the right questions in a certain way, he got the right answers. And he was able to put it in his books. He and Rainbow struck up a friendship through the writing. But over time, it became more than a friendship. And he saw that she had gone further than most sorcerers with her magic.

  “He came courting, and soon, they were off. That’s how his fourth volume got started. Later, they split, and she was heartbroken. That’s why the book ends in the middle.”

  “But what does this have to do with Todder?”

  “Rainbow was Todder’s granny, and Doland, his grandfather.”

  “We’ve learned more from him about the end of Rainbow’s life,” Begonia said. “Doland still came by from time to time. And every time he did, he took a bit of her with him. Something we think Doland learned from his brother.”

  “His brother?”

  “Half-brother,” Schmilda corrected.

  “The Grand Sovereign?” Epik guessed.

  The three witches nodded, one after the other for two rounds of the table.

  “Okay,” Epik said. “What does this have to do with Kavya?”

  “Oh, nothing dear,” Begonia conceded. “Just information for you. It could be useful to put it all together.”

  “Wizard stuff.” Schmilda grinned into her cup.

  “But I don’t care about wizard stuff, not right now.”

  “Aaand back to the girl, again,” Schmilda shook her head. “He can’t see she’s a pawn to set up for the final act.”

  “Or won’t see,” Begonia said knowingly.

  Epik yanked his cloak from the hook beside the door, ensured his wand was in his trouser pocket, and opened the back door. Sure, there were more things he might take had he time to prepare, but this was enough. This was all he needed to end this.

  “And there he goes,” Schmilda announced, “off to complete his training.”

  Epik leveled his gaze on Schmilda. “If you three are serious about helping,” he told them, “then I’m going to need Millie, Todder, and Brendan at their maximum potential. And soon. Gerdy and Myra, too.”

  “Go,” Begonia shooed him away. “Go and be the hero. Vanquish the villain. It all comes down to this.”

  “Doesn’t it always?” Dora smiled nostalgically.

  “I don’t know,” Begonia said. “Does it in that other realm you visit?”

  “Often, yes.”

  With that, Epik stormed out of the house.

  33

  Practical Shadowkeeping

  Epik burst into the barn, or he would have, had the door not been standing open.

  Morning light streamed through the door and was filtered by dust and haze, but those weren’t the only things filling the air. Bangs and clangs, hammers against metal reverberated dizzyingly.

  Brendan put down his hammer. Epik’s demeanor and angry stride shouted that something was up.

  Brendan waylaid him. “Is everything all right?”

  “No. No, it isn’t.” Epik edged around him and stomped to the tack wall.

  “Watch out, you two,” Todder called.

  Brendan, and Epik less so, flattened themselves against the wall as Millie guided a large metal object out of the barn. Eddis and Todder followed after her.

  “Is that for the airship?” Epik asked, momentarily phased. “How’s that going?”

  Brendan righted to his full height and placed himself in front of Epik again. He and the crew were there plying mythraluminum to Eddis’s specifications, building something the old man called propellers.

  Overall, the progress on the airship was steady. In only a few days, they’d done what had taken Anhog and Rusty a month per ship to do.

  “Things are okay,” Brendan said. “We’re almost there. Hey, is there something I can help with?”

  Epik was struggling to get down a bridle, hung no doubt by a taller person. Flustered, he pulled out his wand. “No, I’ve got it.”

  Something in Epik seemed to shift, a cog clicking into place. He stopped, turned, and despite the height difference met Brendan face to face, “Actually, ya know what, there is something. You can learn to control your magic. You can get this airship working, and you can help me lay siege to King’s Way.”

  Brendan wasn’t sure how to respond. This seemed to all come out of nowhere. “Right… so, is that where you’re off to then?”

  “It is.”

  Epik began to saddle Buster, still using the wand to bring his saddle and tack from the wall to the pony. Then, from where he was hovering next to Brendan, he flew across the room and landed atop the saddle.

  “I’m sorry.” Epik said with some remorse. “Here’s your first magic lesson: Don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Don’t squander your feelings. That was wrong of me to waste emotion. You can save it and utilize it later—use it to enhance your magic.”

  The halfling took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and righted himself. Then he even forced a smile. “Much better.”

  “I haven’t even had time to think about magic,” Brendan admitted.

  “I know. Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. Just, it’s been a rough morning.”

  “Kavya?” Brendan guessed.

  Epik nodded. “She’s gone.”

  “And you’re really off to King’s Way? To find her?”

  “I am.”

  There was courage in Epik where Brendan had once seen fear. And as admiral of the Air Navy, he wanted, no, he needed to help the halfling.

  “As soon as the ship is ready—”

  “Actually,” Epik cocked his head in thought. “Trace has been doing more snooping. When he gets back, tell him he reports to you now. All right?”

  “Right. Sure.” Brendan wanted to ask Epik if there was anything else he could do to help, to hone in on his magic. But Buster was already moving out of the stable.

  “Then, of course, with whatever information he has, I expect you’ll come up with some plan. Don’t worry about me. Complete your mission. That’s more important.”

  “Will do.” Brendan nodded. The magic in the back of his mind began to tingle.

  Epik clicked his tongue, sending Buster into a trot, then a canter. A moment later, the pony was flying into the sun.

  It was late in the evening when Trace finally turned up. Brendan had spent the remainder of the day with Eddis, Millie, and Todder installing the propellers—and the steam engines that would drive them.

  “Where’d Todder get off to?” Brendan asked, scanning the barn.

  “Schmilda wanted to talk to him.” Millie pointed to the witches’ cottage. “They’ve been right weird since he showed up, haven’t they?”

  “Weirder,” Brendan said scornfully.

  The three of them settled in by the fire with the rest of the crew. The day had been warmer, but the night’s chill was upon them. And they were all exhausted from another day’s labor.

  It was then Brendan saw Trace move in the flickering shadows on the wall.

  Eddis gave a guilty smile—he liked the witches. But his gaze followed Brendan’s. “Oh, here’s our little friend,” the old man announced.

  “I was looking for Epik.” The shadow stopped with its silhouetted face toward them.

  “Epik left,” Brendan told him. “Actually, he said you’re supposed to report to me now.”

  “Did he now?” Trace cocked his head and brought a shadowy hand to his shadowy chin. “I guess that does make sense. Since it’s you who will lead the battle.”

  “Battle?” Millie asked. “What battle?”

  “Hold on.” Brendan was tired of conversations slipping out of hand and out of turn, tired of questions when all he really wanted was answers. “Let Trace explain—he needs to tell us where he
’s been and what he’s seen.”

  “Thank you.” Trace looked around. “Is there anywhere in here to sit? I’ve been on my feet all day.” But there was no shadow of a chair or log against on the wall.

  “No matter,” he said. “I’ve been here, there, but not everywhere. I noticed they stopped running the train after your little fiasco. But they made one last trip.”

  Brendan nodded for Trace to go on.

  “All the men from the camp, well, they were loaded on the train. I followed it into King’s Way, careful not to be seen.”

  “So, what are they doing?” Eddis asked.

  Brendan sighed. More questions.

  “Loading a ship, a galleon, largest I’ve ever seen. It’s made of steel, and mythraluminum, like your airship.

  “And I saw something else. A wraith. It broke away from the cloud above the city. It tried to follow me here.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Millie, please,” Brendan begged.

  “I lost it in the mountains.” But the thought of the wraith seemed to send a shiver down the shadow’s spine. “The Grand Sovereign, he’s preparing for the last battle.”

  “A ship,” Brendan repeated. “I know it might not sound like much, but there’s probably more than meets the eye. They’ll snake up the Bludmud River, unload the troops, then cut over into Dune All-En. Attack from two sides. Classic strategy.”

  “Then we should pre-empt them,” Eddis suggested.

  “I wasn’t finished… The wraiths will attack from the air, probably take down the remaining airships.”

  Amber wandered over to the conversation. “I’m with Eddis, a pre-emptive strike. Meet them where they least expect it.”

  Millie was dubious. “One airship, against however many wraiths…”

  “No, it could work.” Brendan nodded. The tingle was back. “I think I might actually have a plan. Or at least an idea… The engines we just installed, I think the wraiths could use them to draw energy—like that demon wraith used the forge.”

  “That proves my point exactly,” Millie said. “They’d use our own energy against us. Taking the airship would be easy.”

  “While that’s true,” Brendan acknowledged her, but his mind was whirring, buzzing with thought, “that wasn’t the idea.”

  “Well, what is your idea then?” Eddis asked.

  Brendan smiled. “The witches, they know a way to turn a wraith from bad energy and set them back into the world, right? It’s how Ursa joined our crew.”

  “Right,” Millie agreed.

  “Right, well, what if we used that same magic combined with tech? Remember how we made the trap for the demon wraith? We do the same thing here.”

  Eddis scratched at his thin beard. “That… That actually might work…”

  34

  Marvelously Dreaming Myra

  A bead of light on a snowy plain twinkled like a little star. In the sky not far away, a bed banked gracefully and began descending. Either it was aimlessly flying to nowhere in particular, or the bed had heeded Gerdy’s wishes and was en route to the witches Epik had spoken of. She was confident it was the latter. Well, except every few minutes when she second guessed it.

  Its current shallow dive indicated there was an end in sight. Gerdy only hoped it was the right end. She brushed her fingertips across Myra’s brow for the umpteenth time, asking her again to wake up.

  No dice.

  Earlier, Gerdy had even begged, tapping the wand against Myra’s forehead. Myra had hiccupped a snore but slumbered on.

  “If we’re headed where I think we are,” Gerdy announced, “the witches will work this out. It’ll be easy for them, I’m sure.” But the stories of witches always focused on putting their subjects to sleep, handing them tainted apples—not waking them.

  No, that’s always the knight’s job, Gerdy thought.

  The bed dropped through a cloud, soaking both girls—the closest thing to a bath Gerdy’d seen in months. It set her shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. Then, it dawned on her—I am a knight.

  In a way, she’d always been one, playing the hero as a child. Still, Gerdy struggled with the notion. It can’t be that easy.

  The moon shone a cold sliver of white down on the ground where before them the world spread out gray with melting snow. A few trees were speckled here and there—or at least the darkened shadows of trees.

  And the bead of light became a ball, and then it was most definitely a cottage on a hill.

  The bed landed gently, crunching on the snow.

  The cottage door opened, and three women hobbled outside with a large man eagerly following them.

  “Todder!” Gerdy squealed. She jumped from the bed and ran to meet him. She threw her arms around him for a heartfelt hug.

  “I missed you,” Todder said with a smile in his voice.

  “Yes, yes, hello to you, too,” Schmilda groused.

  “Schmilda!” Begonia scolded.

  “I’m just saying, there’s more than him out here. I’d rather’ve stayed inside and not got this chill in our bones.” Schmilda ambled over to the bed. “What’s this one doing still asleep?”

  “I… I wasn’t sure how to—”

  Schmilda folded her arms and gave Gerdy the worst look she’d seen since she quit working at her father’s pub.

  “It’s all right,” Dora encouraged. “She just didn’t think it would be so easy.” The redheaded witch drifted back to the cottage. Of the three witches, Gerdy already liked this one best. She reminded her of someone, but Gerdy couldn’t place who.

  “Oh, it’s not that easy,” the skinny witch, Schmilda, said. “You have to bind the kiss with your magic.”

  “Go on,” Begonia said. “Do your magic.”

  “My magic?”

  The old witch offered a horselike smile. “Well, it’s not as simple as a kiss, is it? But this time your lips are the wand. Use your emotion, think what you want to happen, and it will.”

  So, it isn’t that easy, Gerdy thought.

  “But what about the dreams?” Gerdy asked. “I thought—I thought they must mean something.”

  Schmilda huffed. “Epik told you as much, I guess.”

  Gerdy nodded.

  “His dreams are on a whole other plane, they’re visions of the future—or what might be.”

  “And mine? Or, uh, Myra’s?”

  “This girl dreams the same as most people do, of escape. It’s why she dreams so often of you.”

  “But your recent dreams weren’t with Myra,” Begonia said. “Her father’s spell was still protecting her.”

  “It was him,” Gerdy said knowingly. “Epiman. The dreams were just a distraction.”

  “Go on,” Schmilda urged. “Kiss the girl.”

  Gerdy sighed. She was never much for public displays of affection. Now three sets of eyes—if you could call Begonia’s good eye a set—were locked on Gerdy’s attempt at a kiss.

  “Do you mind looking away?” she asked slowly.

  “Oh, right-oh.” And Todder turned.

  The two remaining witches, flustered, followed suit.

  Gerdy went through the motions, the things Epik had taught her about using magic. She found her love for Myra, and she bound it with the bit of magic left in the back of her mind. The tingle, once considerably stronger, was diminished after the escapade with the Grand Sovereign.

  Gerdy kissed Myra softly. The princess’s lips were dry, and they stuck to her own lips when Gerdy pulled away.

  As per usual in these types of situations, the magic did not have instant effect. She waited three, four, five seconds of agony… and Myra’s eyes opened, revealing her green irises with specks of blue.

  35

  Ghostwritten

  Flying didn’t suit Epik—not at all. His stomach wanted to dive toward the ground, which, when flying is exactly the opposite of where one wants a body part to go. The rest of the halfling shook with a sort of nervous fear, an anxiety. It wasn’t the hei
ght that bothered him, not even the potential fall—it was just the whole of him had now caught up to the situation.

  What was he thinking? Could he really face the Grand Sovereign now? And alone? He could turn back. If he wasn’t mistaken, something was headed that way now. It swooped past them. And oddly, it looked quite like a bed.

  But he didn’t turn back and the night wore on.

  When the lamp and torchlights of King’s Way were within sight, Epik shook the reins, and Buster landed at a slow gallop without breaking stride.

  The pony snorted in agitation. Not only did Buster not like flying, he recognized the city. To placate the beast, Epik took out his wand and vanished them both—just as the halfling knight had done jousting only a few short months ago.

  It seemed like forever. And he’d grown so much, well, as a wizard at least.

  The two entered with slightly more confidence than the last time they set foot or hoof in that city.

  When they passed through the castle gate Buster stopped and whinnied.

  To Epik’s surprise, he heard another horse reply. But there were no horses in sight.

  “Who is it? Lucille? Is she invisible, too?” Epik asked. “Did Gerdy leave her here?”

  Buster neighed again, and the black mare rounded a corner ahead of them. Epik tried not to do the mental calculation of how a horse could survive through a cold winter. Of course, being invisible with the ability to walk through walls has its privileges. Lucille was fat on oats and slept in doors most nights21.

  “See to her,” Epik told Buster. “And if I don’t return in a few hours, you two find a way out of here—then don’t come back.”

  Another neigh.

  Epik’s lip curved, and he undid his spell. “You won’t at least feign some sorrow? You won’t miss me?”

  Buster snorted playfully in reply.