Capture (The Machinists Book 4)

by Craig Andrews

  “Knight Commander! Knight Commander, this is Singh. Do you copy?” the driver bellowed into a wireless radio. “Knight Commander, do you copy? We have a situation back here!”

  Allyn didn’t have time to worry about the message going through. He had to trust that Canary was able to block it. His hands still bound behind his back, Allyn spun and reached for the driver. Seeing what had happened to his comrade, the driver pulled away, yanking on the wheel as he did.

  The BearCat lurched, throwing Allyn in the opposite direction. Landing on the dead passenger, Allyn struggled to his feet then wielded again. He launched himself at the driver, who struggled to regain control of the heavy vehicle. Allyn felt the Knight go stiff. His screams filled the inside of the cabin, but Allyn refused to disengage, and the screams slowly died away as the Knight was electrocuted.

  The BearCat drifted right, then left, veering in and out of the lane as the burned remains of the driver slumped in his seat. Allyn let the coils dissipate and grabbed hold of the wheel, bringing the vehicle back under control. It was awkward—no, it was damn near impossible to drive with his hands bound behind his back, and standing as he was, there wasn’t anything he could do about it slowing down.

  “Canary!” Allyn bellowed as their BearCat fell farther and farther behind the lead vehicle. “Canary, I need you up here!”

  She appeared a moment later, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

  “Keys,” Allyn said. “There!” He nodded at Livingston. “On his belt.”

  Canary snagged the keys and quickly undid Allyn’s cuffs. By the time she did, the lead vehicle was completely out of sight. Wasting little time, Allyn snatched the keys from her, returned the favor, then yanked the driver out of his seat and climbed behind the wheel. Beside him, Canary did the same with the passenger.

  “I think you’re going to want to buckle up for this,” Allyn said.

  He saw the questioning look in her eyes but didn’t say anything more. There was no time for answers. He clicked his seatbelt into place and stomped on the gas. The BearCat roared forward, barreling down the four-lane road. They were in the middle of a city now, not a huge city full of skyscrapers but large enough to be well populated.

  “Singh, come in,” a voice on the radio said, sounding more irritated than concerned. “Singh, where are you?”

  Allyn looked at Canary, his mind spinning. He’d only heard the other man speak once and couldn’t remember his accent, or if he even had one.

  “Singh?” the voice said again. “What is going on back there?”

  Allyn grabbed the wireless radio. “This is Singh. Got hung up at a red light, that’s all.”

  “A red light?”

  “Yeah,” Allyn said. “A red light. Catching up now.”

  “If this is Singh, tell me the name of the man in the passenger seat.”

  Allyn cursed, turning to Canary. “Does he have an ID?”

  She ran a hand over his pockets, searching for a wallet, badge, or some other form of identification. She shook her head.

  “No need for that,” Allyn said. “I can see you now. We’re almost there.”

  It was true—they were only about one hundred feet behind it and gaining quickly.

  “Who is this?”

  Allyn dropped the radio and floored the gas pedal, closing the remaining distance between them and the other BearCat in only a matter of seconds.

  Allyn screamed, Canary joining him, as their BearCat slammed into the back of the lead vehicle with a thunderous crash. Allyn was thrown forward against his seatbelt as the BearCat lurched. Fighting to keep the vehicle under control, he yanked the steering wheel left then right. When he had control again, he saw that the driver of the other vehicle had done the same. He mashed the gas pedal again, preparing to ram the lead BearCat a second time.

  Instead of ramming it directly from behind, Allyn pulled up beside the vehicle so that he was even with its rear tires then yanked the wheel to the side, smashing into the BearCat again. The maneuver kicked the vehicle’s rear tires out, spinning the rear of the BearCat around. Speed and momentum kicked in. The lead BearCat lurched, tipped up on two wheels, then tumbled end over end. Landing on its cab, it slid to a halt in a mass of sparks.

  Allyn slammed on the brakes, bringing his vehicle to a screeching halt. He was out of the vehicle a moment later, striding toward the wrecked BearCat.

  It was time to cut the head from the snake.

  Chapter 32

  Jaxon’s world slowed to a standstill. The bursts of light from muzzle flashes seemed to freeze as if caught on camera. The echoes of their gunfire were drawn out so that every metallic sound and concussive noise was a distinct and separate piece of the same battle concerto. He could almost see the ripples in the air left behind by bullets, see the smoke trailing off fireballs hurled in return, see individual droplets of water dripping from ice blasts.

  “The arch mage is down!” someone bellowed.

  And immediately, the chaos of battle returned. Following the brief moment before, everything seemed to move in double time, as if being fast-forwarded to catch up.

  Though Jaxon stood only a few feet from Arch Mage Westarra’s body, he might as well have been a world away. The broiling mixture of shock and confusion rendered him useless.

  More of the Elemental Guard had fallen in with their brethren, protecting the arch mage from further attacks. Most had their backs to him, while three of their guard assessed the arch mage’s wounds. Westarra’s eyes were cold and lifeless, his arms flailing without resistance as the magi removed his battle attire and stripped him down to his bare skin. Two bullet wounds, little more than round holes, spewed blood down his back.

  So much death caused by something so small.

  The guards laid the arch mage facedown on the ground, working in silence. Their speed and efficiency was a product of process, of knowing what needed to be done, by whom, and when.

  Jaxon had gained too much experience with guns and bullet wounds recently, and knew that the first step to treating a gunshot was removing the bullet. Fortunately for the arch mage, one of the bullets had traveled clean through his body, and his guards were already working on removing the other. Cringing, Jaxon tore his eyes from the magi and fell into position with the rest of the Elemental Guard.

  “We have to get the arch mage to safety,” Jaxon said as he hurled a fireball into the trees.

  “No,” Rohn said. “We can’t risk moving him. There’s no time. We have to give the clerics time to heal him here.”

  Clerics?

  Jaxon glanced back to the rest of the guards. Dressed in the same magi compression armor, the Elemental Guards’ blacks were embroidered with swatches of color around the sleeve cuffs and neckline. Most were red, but those treating the arch mage’s were blue.

  As far as he had known, every member of the Elemental Guard was a magi, their lives sworn to protecting the magi leader. But protection, he supposed, could take on many different forms, and it made sense that a small number of them would be clerics. But a cleric only had so much power—they couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

  They wouldn’t be trying to save him if they didn’t think he had a chance.

  A sharp cry brought Jaxon’s attention back to the battle. A fountain of blood sprayed from the shoulder of one of the guards in their line. He dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, before rising again, retaking his position, his arm hanging uselessly at their side.

  “We can’t stay here,” Jaxon said. “We’re sitting ducks.”

  “We have to give them time,” Rohn said again. His jaw was set, his face hard, showing no signs of changing his mind.

  Jaxon ground his teeth but didn’t say anything more. Who was he to question the Spark, the leader of the arch mage’s Elemental Guard, the man whose sole
responsibility was protecting the magi leader?

  Someone fell into step beside Jaxon. Then another, and he realized that the remaining magi reserves were returning. The number of their small protective force swelled, doubling, and then tripling in size, every one of them providing additional levels of protection for their arch mage. Then he heard shouted commands from a voice he would recognize in any crowd.

  “To the arch mage!” Liam bellowed. “To the arch mage!”

  He stood twenty paces down the hillside, his slender frame little more than a shadow in the forest, waving the magi forward like a police officer directing traffic.

  “Move!” Liam continued to shout. “To the arch mage!”

  The size of the circle shielding the arch mage continued to swell as additional lines of magi filled their ranks. Jaxon and the Elemental Guard pushed their way to the front as each new wave arrived, allowing the reinforcements to take their place behind them. Liam spotted Jaxon and took up position at his shoulder.

  “Good work,” Jaxon said.

  “You too.”

  Around them the sounds of gunfire slowly faded until there was none at all. Jaxon eyed the forest warily, catching brief shadows moving toward a central location. The sun had crested the horizon some time ago, but much of its light hadn’t yet found the forest floor, leaving the battlefield in looming darkness.

  “What are they doing?” Liam asked.

  “Regrouping,” Jaxon said. He continued to watch the forest, his apprehension growing, and was the first to see the figure appear from the trees. “Nolan.”

  The former FBI agent was a bloodied mess, though judging by his quick and seemingly unpained movements, most of it didn’t appear to be his.

  “You’re alive,” Nolan said with a smile, joining the magi ranks.

  “You too, I see.”

  “So far,” Nolan said. “The Knights are massing for another assault.”

  “Did you see them?” Rohn asked.

  Nolan nodded.

  “Tell me what you know,” Rohn said. “Everything. We need to mount a resistance.”

  Nolan began telling the Spark everything he had seen. While he did, Jaxon pushed his way through the magi lines, making for the arch mage. He needed to know how long their resistance would have to hold out.

  Arch Mage Westarra still lay on his stomach, the three clerics on their knees surrounding him. His skin had gone pallid, and one of the bullet wounds had been widened, no doubt to allow one of the clerics to remove the bullet. Their expressions were more distressed than Jaxon remembered.

  We’re running out of time.

  As if coming to the same conclusion themselves, the clerics formed a triangular shape around Westarra. Placing a hand on the arch mage’s back, they closed their eyes, and a moment later, three points of white light blossomed from their touch.

  They’re forming a chain.

  Ripples of light emanated through the arch mage’s body, and within moments the clerics began showing signs of pain. Eyes still closed, the far cleric’s lips parted, her face contorting in agony.

  Jaxon couldn’t see any outward signs of the arch mage’s injuries appearing on her body, but that wasn’t unexpected. Most of the injury, especially the parts that required the most medical attention, were within the body, not the puncture wound itself.

  Sweat began to bead on the cleric’s forehead, sticking her red hair to her forehead. For some reason, the other two seemed in better shape. That didn’t make any sense. By forming a chain, the clerics were supposed to share the burden equally.

  Something’s wrong.

  As if sensing it too, the other two clerics opened their eyes and looked at their companion, their expressions full of shock and anger.

  “Jayme,” the male cleric said, his voice gruff and thick with pain. “What are you doing?”

  “What I must.” Unlike the other two, she kept her eyes closed.

  “This isn’t the way,” the male cleric said.

  “He’s too far gone, Kieren,” Jayme said.

  “Jayme,” Kieren said. “Please.”

  “He needs a life spark.”

  “Jayme…”

  She opened her eyes, looking deeply into his. They were so filled with love and compassion that Jaxon felt guilty for impeding on their final moments.

  “I’m sorry, Kieren,” she said, tears pouring down her face. “I love you.”

  A bright flash illuminated from Jayme’s touch, and as if recoiling from an electric shock, the other two clerics jerked away from the arch mage. It must have been an involuntary gesture, because Kieren immediately tried to reestablish his connection.

  But Jaxon knew it was already too late. As soon as Kieren and the other cleric’s hands had been repelled, the ripples emanating from Jayme’s hands brightened, growing more intense.

  “No!” Kieren shouted. “No! Don’t do this! Jayme, stop!”

  The ripples gained in speed, rolling from Westarra’s head to his toes so quickly that Jaxon couldn’t differentiate one ripple from the next. Jayme cried out as the puncture wound appeared on her back. Fresh blood poured from it like milk from a hole in the side of a milk carton.

  Kieren desperately attempted to reestablish his connection, but something Jayme was doing prevented him from being able to do it. He watched helplessly as she sacrificed herself for the magi leader.

  His own tears flowing, Kieren reached out a hand, cupping Jayme’s face. Her eyes opened, and without breaking her connection to the arch mage, she smiled at her love. And then her light faded, and she fell.

  Kieren caught her before she hit the earth and draped her body across his. He stroked the side of her face, tears streaming down his, and whispered something to her. A private goodbye.

  So much death, Jaxon thought solemnly. Is there anyone in the Order who’s been untouched?

  “We’ve got a pulse!”

  Kieren looked up from Jayme, his eyes red as they fell upon the other cleric. Anger washed over his face.

  “She did it, Kieren. She did it.”

  Kieren didn’t move, his eyes returning to his fallen love.

  “Come on, Kieren. Before it’s too late.”

  But the distraught cleric wasn’t listening. He cupped the side of Jayme’s face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

  “Kieren! Don’t let her death be for nothing!”

  Fresh tears falling from his eyes, Kieren met the other cleric’s pleading gaze.

  “Come on!”

  Kieren nodded slightly and leaned down and kissed Jayme on the forehead. Then taking a deep shuddering breath, he laid Jayme aside and, together with the other cleric, returned to work.

  “Jaxon!”

  Jaxon snapped his head around then pushed his way back through the mass of magi. Nolan stood next to Rohn, their attention focused on a point directly in front of them. Following their gaze, Jaxon spotted a group of fifteen Knights streaming out in a line that ran parallel to the magi force.

  “What are they doing?” Jaxon asked.

  “Preparing for a last stand,” Rohn said. “How is the arch mage?”

  “He lives,” Jaxon said.

  A shudder went through Rohn’s body. “Then we cannot fail.” He took a step beyond the group, turning his back on the Knight force. “Listen up!” Rohn shouted. “Everything you have fought for tonight comes down to this. The arch mage lives, but those men out there want to see him, you, and everyone we hold dear dead. I don’t intend to let that happen. Who’s with me?”

  A cheer rang up from the magi group.

  “Who’s with me?” Rohn shouted again.

  Another louder cheer, this one louder.

  “Every man and woman still able to fight, line up!”

  The arch m
age’s protective circle disbanded as magi lined up shoulder to shoulder, mirroring the Knights. They stood a hundred paces away from each other, one dressed in tactical armor and wielding guns, the other wearing black compression armor and wielding magic. Like two ancient armies donning swords and chainmail, they stared at each other, waiting for the order to charge.

  Rohn turned from the group, returning his gaze to the Knights. He held up a hand, and a moment later, fire sprang to life around it. In one fluid motion, he hurled the fireball at the enemy. Like a meteor blazing across the sky, the fireball flew toward the enemy.

  “For the arch mage!” Rohn shouted.

  The magi line charged, prepared to die for their Order’s survival.

  Chapter 33

  Allyn strode toward the wrecked BearCat. His hands were at his side, fingers splayed, not yet wielding but ready to at a moment’s notice.

  The BearCat was only twenty feet away, lying perpendicular in the four-lane street and blocking oncoming traffic. Steam rose from its engine compartment, and blue smoke billowed from its tires, filling the morning air with the acrid smell of burnt rubber. Green fluid, either coolant or transmission fluid, ran down its black exterior, pooling on the blacktop.

  Cars and pedestrians had already begun gathering around the scene, no doubt ready to lend their aid to the victims of the crash.

  “Stay back!” Allyn shouted, motioning for the pedestrians to return to their cars. Most listened, though not all. “I said stay back!” he shouted again, channeling every ounce of authority he could muster. The remaining do-gooders stopped, though, to Allyn’s frustration, they didn’t return to their cars.

  He couldn’t worry about them, though. He had to keep his attention on the broken BearCat, on Sedric’s whereabouts. He was the key to his plan. Nearing the driver’s door, Allyn dropped to a crouch and quickly glanced inside. Not seeing anything immediately dangerous, he pulled open the door, letting it fall against the blacktop, and stole another glance inside the driver’s compartment.