Metal Mage 2

by Eric Vall

  “I am King Davit Balmier, sovereign of Cedis,” Cayla’s father announced, and his voice dripped with authority. “Welcome to my kingdom.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I replied as I dipped my head in a low bow. “It is our pleasure to be here. I am Defender Mason Flynt.” Then I turned and gestured to the half-elf beside me. “This is my companion Defender Aurora Solana. We are mages with Illaria’s Order of Elementa.”

  King Davit raised an eyebrow, but the rest of his face stayed impassive. “My daughter traveled to Illaria to ask Temin for aid, and he sends only two mages in response?”

  Although Cayla’s father kept his voice even, I could see a vein throb at his temple, and great dark circles lined the bottom of his eyes.

  “Not to sound overly proud, Your Majesty,” I said cautiously, “but Defender Solana and I will be more than enough to help you purge your kingdom of darkness.”

  “Oh really?” Davit asked flatly as he dragged his eyes from my shoes to my face.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but my stomach cut me off with a loud gurgle. The king’s eyes dropped to my stomach, and his lips pursed into a thin line.

  “Forgive me,” he said, “I am not being a good host. Come, let us eat, and then we may discuss these issues further.”

  Davit clapped his hands, and a door on the other side of the fire swung open. A moment later, servants spilled forth, their hands laden with plates of food and flagons of wine and ale.

  “Thank you, sire,” I said as I dipped my head again.

  The king nodded in return and then turned to Cayla with the barest hints of a frown. “Do you wish to change for dinner, daughter?”

  Cayla lifted her chin and met his gaze unflinchingly. “I must wash the dirt from the road off me first. I will wait until after dinner because we have had a long and perilous journey, and I am hungry.”

  “Very well,” Davit replied, but his frown deepened a fraction of a degree. Then he turned back to Aurora and me and waved his hand at the table. “Come, sit. You are wearied from your travels.”

  He strode back to the head of the table and flared his green robe out behind him as he sat. The soldiers we had entered with, even Captain Mayard, faded to the outskirts of the room simultaneously. Aurora and I shared a look, but Cayla marched up to the table and took the seat to his right, so I had no choice but to take the chair to his left, and Aurora sat down on my other side.

  Once we were seated, the servants swarmed around us as they placed dish after dish on the table. There was roasted duck and several species of fish that I guessed came from the lake outside the city. There was a small braised lamb, still on the bone, and stuffed pheasant that swam in gravy. There were baskets of warm bread and delicate plates of pastries that glistened with sugars and jams. There weren’t as many crops on the table as I would have expected, though, some leafy greens, buttered potatoes and carrots, a plate of sautéed mushrooms, but that was about it. I wondered if that was an effect of Camus Dred. It couldn’t be easy to transport crops through bandit country.

  When all the food had been set on the table, and the servants had retreated back to the kitchens, I waited with my hands in my lap, unsure of how proper etiquette worked when one was dining with a king. I had eaten with King Temin before, but Illaria’s ruler was much laxer it seemed than Cedis’ was. Though, to be fair, I hadn’t shown up after dark with Temin’s daughter.

  There was a tense and silent pause that seemed to grow heavier with every second, but then Davit reached out and plucked a roll of bread from a basket before he turned next to the roasted duck.

  Across from me, Cayla let out a barely audible sigh, and then she met my eyes and nodded as she reached for the braised lamb.

  My stomach growled ferociously, and I didn’t need to be told twice. I grabbed my own roll of bread before I pulled the plate of potatoes to me, and then I went for a stuffed pheasant.

  It was quiet as we all started to tuck into our meals. The only noise in the room was the clink of silverware, and the crunch of bone and sinew. Spices and grease exploded on my tongue, and as good as the sod poodle had been, I had to stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head.

  “So,” King Davit said into the silent room once I had devoured my pheasant and was reaching for a plate of blackened fish, “tell me, how did you come to meet my daughter, and how do you plan on helping me save my kingdom?”

  I looked up and swallowed a gulp of wine. The king gazed at me expectantly with his fingers interlaced and folded beneath his chin.

  “Well,” I coughed as I cleared my throat, “I think I have to speak first of Illaria before I answer your questions. Our story needs a little context.”

  “Proceed, then,” Davit replied with a casual wave of his hand.

  I cleared my throat again and took another sip of wine as I gathered my thoughts.

  “It’s… difficult to find one place to begin,” I started, “but the general summary is that Illaria has suffered the same troubles that have plagued your kingdom. At least the ones that occurred before the bandits showed up.”

  At the mention of bandits, Davit’s eyes blazed with fury, but he quickly schooled his face back into a neutral expression.

  “So there have been attacks in Illaria as well then, you are saying?” the king mused.

  I nodded. “Yes. We had more than several beasts wreak havoc across the kingdom, just like the chimera did here. However, we haven’t had any attacks perpetrated by people, though it might only be a matter of time before those happen in Illaria, too. Defender Solana and I did slay a drake, a hydra, and a basilisk, though, and that was only in the last two weeks or so.”

  “You slew all three of those beasts on your own?” Davit asked as he studied me with his whiskey-colored eyes. “That is an impressive feat.”

  “I have a well-stocked arsenal at my fingertips,” I replied with a smile, and then I showed him the Mage’s Mark on the back of my hand.

  “Yes, I have heard of the prowess of mages,” the king murmured as his eyes traced the lines across my knuckles.

  “I am sure you have, Your Majesty,” I said as my grin grew, “but I have something a little extra. You see, Defender Solana is an Ignis Mage. That means she can control fire. I, on the other hand, am a Terra Mage, which means I can manipulate earth, but I also have a few other, gods-gifted abilities.”

  “Like what?” Davit questioned as his brow furrowed.

  “Like this,” I responded, and then I reached out and plucked a silver fork from the table beside me. I sent out a small wave of magic, and the metal utensil began to bubble and melt in my hand. When the material had become soft enough, I let out another burst of power and reshaped the metal into a small, silver crown.

  I leaned forward and set the crown beside the king’s hand. Davit looked down at it with wide eyes, the first real emotion I had seen on his face.

  When the king only continued to stare, I decided to press on.

  “I have the ability to manipulate metal,” I explained, “as I have just demonstrated. I used this power to craft new weapons for King Temin’s men, weapons strong enough to defeat bloodthirsty beasts and men alike.”

  “That’s how I found him, father,” Cayla cut in. “I went to Temin first to ask for his aid, but he said his men and kingdom were overtaxed and could not help. I had heard a tale of a mage who had slew two great beasts, and I went searching for him.”

  The princess’s ice-blue eyes cut to me, and a small smile tugged at her mouth.

  “He agreed to help me,” she continued, “and after we dealt with the problem in Illaria, we hastened to return here to do the same in Cedis.”

  “Dealt with the problem?” the king echoed as he frowned. “What do you mean?”

  To my left, I felt Aurora go rigid, and I slid my hand under the table to squeeze her knee before I explained.

  “There was a man in Illaria,” I began, “Abrus Zorick. He… was the leader of the Order of Elementa. However, as I was finishing
the weapons King Temin had commissioned, Abrus revealed himself to be a traitor. He was the one that executed the attacks in Illaria. He controlled the beasts by carving runes into their hides, runes from an ancient, Elvish dialect, runes of power and magic.”

  “What did they look like?” Davit asked, his eyes intense.

  Before I could respond, Cayla cut in again.

  “They are the same as the ones we found on the farmer,” the princess replied. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “And this mage,” the king went on as his eyes darted back to me, “what has become of him?”

  Aurora was so still at my side I worried that she wasn’t even breathing.

  “He’s dead,” I said as delicately as I could. “He attacked the king and us, and I did what I had to in order to survive.”

  Davit’s eyes studied me again, this time a little closer, and I thought I could see a gleam of admiration in their depths.

  “So what you are saying is that the attacks should be over now,” the king declared, and relief started to creep across the edges of his face.

  “Not exactly,” I replied with a wince. “Before Abrus died, he alluded to an accomplice, someone that he referred to as ‘master.’ However, we don’t know this man’s identity, and we worry that with Abrus dead, this ‘master’ might turn his attention back to Cedis. However, the time frame of that is speculative at best. This ‘master’ could attack tomorrow in retaliation, or he could bide his time as he regroups and reorganizes in the wake of Abrus’ death. There’s no way to be certain.”

  “But what could this master’s motivation possibly be?” Davit demanded as he scowled. “My kingdom is neither large nor great. We have no mages, no standing army, we have nothing to offer.”

  “That is what we are here to try and find out,” I responded as I lifted my chin against the king’s onslaught of frustration and anger. “We aim to find the identity of this master, figure out what he is planning, and stop him. Aurora and I will not rest until Cedis is as protected as Illaria.”

  King Davit sighed and sat back heavily in his chair.

  “And here I thought Camus Dred was the worst of my worries,” he muttered as he rubbed tiredly at his brow. “He became bold once the attacks had started, but those were far and few in-between at first. But Dred saw a moment of weakness, and he seized upon it. Now my country is overrun with bandits, my people suffer, and I have not the power or means to stop it.”

  “Oh don’t worry,” I growled as I clenched my hand around my fork. “I plan to take care of Camus Dred, too. I owe him for the journey to Eyton.”

  “What happened?” the king asked as he sat up again and looked to his daughter. “Are you alright?”

  “I am fine, father,” Cayla replied with a soft smile. “We ran into some bandits along the border, and then again in the town of Keld, but Mason quickly took care of them. He also disarmed and fixed every booby trap along the back roads as we traveled across the country today.”

  “Today?” Davit echoed as his brow furrowed. “You traveled from Keld to here… in one day?”

  “Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to my mechanical steed,” I told the king with a grin. “She’s quite a beauty. I’ll also show you some of my other creations, and then we can get started on figuring out the best way to take down Camus Dred and all the evil bastards that are hiding in your kingdom if you’ll pardon my language, Your Majesty.”

  “By other creations, you mean weapons, correct?” the king questioned as he reached out and picked up his goblet of wine.

  “Partially,” I replied as my smile grew. “I also have a few other things up my sleeves. Or my pockets, coincidentally.”

  King Davit frowned at me, but I held up a finger and reached down under the table with my other hand. Cool metal brushed my palm, and I delicately cupped my fingers as I withdrew my hand from my pocket and then set it flat on the tabletop.

  “Sire, I would like you to meet a friend of mine,” I said as I uncurled my fingers. “This is Stan, another product of my gods-given powers.”

  The little stick figure stretched as he stood up, and then he turned his ball bearing head to look from me to the king as if to ask what he should do.

  The king gaped down at the stickman, and the goblet of wine slipped from his fingers to crash against the tabletop. A tidal wave of red spilled across the table and swept Stan off his feet. He slid a few inches before he came to a stop beside the plate of lamb. Then, he reached out with his little matchstick arm, pulled himself back to his feet, and shook the droplets of wine from his head.

  “He’s only a prototype,” I added as I leaned forward and plucked him from the table, “a first test if you will. But I think that with some study and experimentation, I will definitely be able to help rid you of your bandit problem.”

  I wiped the wine off Stan with my cloth napkin, and then I held my fingertip above his head. This time, I didn’t have to send out a tendril of magic for him to give me a high five. It seemed he could learn things somehow.

  A grin stretched across my face, and I lifted my head to look at the king once again.

  Davit was pale as the unstained parts of the tablecloth before us, and his wide eyes were trained on Stan unblinkingly. When the silence had stretched too long, Cayla leaned over and set her hand atop his.

  “You asked for aid, and I brought you a miracle,” the princess said with a smug smile. “You are welcome, father.”

  Then she sat back and primly returned to her dinner, and I had to suppress a laugh.

  Chapter 6

  A day and a half after our dinner with King Davit, I found myself in a familiar position: hunched over a table, surrounded by dozens of little metal pieces, my hands sore from use, and my eyes strained to the point of tears.

  “Come on,” I grumbled to the metal in my hands as I used my shoulder to wipe the sweat off my brow. “Work with me here.”

  I took a deep breath, slowly bent my hands together, and waited for the click.

  Nothing happened.

  “Son of a bitch,” I groaned as I all but threw the unfinished gun onto the tabletop.

  I sighed and pressed my palms into my eye sockets. I didn’t even care that I was smearing dirt and sweat all over my face. At this point, I was basically made up of grime, sweat, and soot. I was in real need of a bath, but I could barely pull myself away from the worktable long enough to catch a few hours of sleep.

  Every moment that I didn’t spend in the castle’s workshop made me feel antsy because I knew that Camus Dred was out there, robbing and pillaging as he went. There was also the mysterious “master” to consider. He was like a dark cloud in the back of my mind. He loomed over me day and night, and I felt as if he was steadily drawing closer. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. So, showering felt frivolous, sleep was an annoyance, and thoughts of food barely registered in my churning brain as I buckled down and tried to finalize my new weapon.

  The top break revolver wasn’t coming together as easily as I had first assumed it would though.

  I had all of Elias’ schematics and diagrams, and after I had spent days making fifty guns off those illustrations, production and assembly had basically become muscle memory. I knew exactly how many screws I needed, how much space to leave each moving part, and how everything was supposed to line up and fit together.

  I even spent most of my first day in Eyton making a small batch of the fixed-frame revolvers for King Davit’s royal guards so that I could remember the feel of putting them together.

  So, as the sun sank into the low afternoon on my first full day in the capital, I had thought all this knowledge would translate seamlessly as I shifted to this more efficient design.

  I was wrong.

  The foundations were basically the same, the grips, the trigger, the hammer and cylinder, etcetera. It was still a revolver after all. However, the element that made the top break a more efficient gun to load and shoot also made it incredibly more difficult to construct.


  My first few attempts were pretty much total failures as I tried to figure out where the extra springs needed to go that would allow the gun to open like I wanted. It was a morning of trial and error, but I eventually managed a full piece that looked very much like what I remembered a top break revolver should look like.

  This pilot prototype, however, broke completely in half in my hands when I tried to open it like it was a twig I had snapped over my knee. I quickly realized that the hinge wasn’t strong enough, so I melted down the metal and tried again. My second try was definitely stronger, but it ended up being too unyielding. I couldn’t get the hinge all the way open, and half of the cylinder was blocked by the rest of the gun’s frame.

  So I went back to work, molding metals together to try to get an alloy that could support the joint, rotate, and also be strong enough to handle the pressure of the powder.

  Last night, before Aurora and Cayla came to drag me to bed, I finally had a prototype that I thought was ready for testing. I set up a small firing range in the castle’s courtyard and, by the light of the moon above me and Aurora’s flames scattered in torches around me, I put my finger on the trigger and squeezed.

  The revolver had all but exploded in my hand. My magic saved me from any serious injuries, but my ego was bruised enough for me to turn in for the night.

  This morning, rested and refreshed, I came back to the workshop and picked apart the carcass of my failed prototype. After hours of close study, I came to the conclusion that I hadn’t made the frame sturdy enough, so when I fired the gun, the escaping high pressure was still too much for the frame’s structure to handle. Additionally, the latch on top of the barrel was mangled almost beyond recognition, so I also concluded that the latch itself had been faulty, which is why it had come apart so violently.

  So, I made meticulous notes of all these observations, sketched out a few new diagrams, and then I got back to work.

  Now, here I was, late into the afternoon with an almost completed gun on the table before me, the finish line was in sight, but I just kept goddamn fumbling.