Metal Mage 2

by Eric Vall

  “I know,” I said gently, “so that’s why I have another plan, although your suggestion of bandit hunting does sound really appealing.”

  I flashed a quick smile, and Cayla’s lips twitched in return.

  “What is this other plan, Mason?” Aurora asked as she leaned her hip against the table’s edge.

  I glanced up at the Ignis Mage from my seated position, and my smile stretched into a grin.

  “Stan,” I replied simply.

  The half-elf raised an eyebrow at me. “Stan? Your plan is to sic Stan on the bandits?”

  “Well, not Stan specifically,” I conceded, and then I frowned and glanced around the room. “Where is that little guy, anyway? He was waddling around the table a little while ago.”

  “That was this morning, Mason,” Aurora responded with a chuckle and a shake of her head. “Before I told you I was taking him on our rounds.” Then she stood up a little straighter and reached into her pocket. When she withdrew her hand, Stan stretched in her palm.

  “Hey buddy,” I greeted the stickman with a smile and a raised fingertip.

  He jumped a centimeter off Aurora’s hand to give me a high-five.

  “He had a grand time touring the castle with us,” the half-elf remarked as the stick figure toddled forward and fell into my own hand.

  “I bet the company was more beautiful than the castle,” I quipped as I looked back at the Ignis Mage with a wink.

  Aurora rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed a faint crimson.

  “How does Stan work into our bandit problem?” she asked as she changed the subject.

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure yet,” I admitted as I dropped my head to watch Stan waddle around my palm, “but I know Nemris gave me these powers for a reason, so they must be part of the solution. I just have to figure out how.”

  “Will you build more Stans?” Cayla questioned as she reached out and rubbed the stick figure’s head. “Larger and stronger ones, of course.”

  “And with joints,” I joked as Stan stiffly turned around and waddled toward my thumb. “Actually…”

  I trailed off as an idea struck me, and I turned back toward the chaotic and cluttered tabletop. My eyes scanned across the mess for a moment, and then I spotted a spare piece of steel that I had discarded to the very edge of the table. I reached out and picked up the small lump of metal. It was no bigger than a quarter, and it was cool to the touch as it rolled around my palm.

  “What are you doing?” Cayla asked as she leaned closer.

  “Give me a minute,” I chuckled, and then I brought Stan closer to my chest and turned to hide what I was doing from view.

  I sent a small burst of magic into the metal I held, and it instantly melted in my palm. Stan looked on from my other hand, and even without facial expressions, I could somehow, perhaps through our magical connection, tell he was curious like he knew what I was planning.

  I glanced over the little stickman as I eyeballed the measurements, and then I closed my eyes and let out a bit more of my power and intention. When I opened my eyes again, four round button-sized hinges similar in design to what I had put on my revolver, sat in my palm. I looked back to Stan and gave him an encouraging smile.

  “This might feel weird,” I cautioned my little creation, but he simply toddled forward bravely into my other hand.

  Excitement burned through my veins as I gently reached out and plucked one of the hinges out of my palm. Then I nudged Stan’s left arm, and when he held it up, I set the hinge halfway down the appendage and used a little magic to push it forward.

  As I watched, Stan’s arm softened around the hinge and then wrapped around it like silver liquid. The fluid metal sucked the hinge out of my grasp, and a moment later, the job was finished.

  Stan looked up at me and then back at his arm, and then he bent his newly acquired elbow joint back and forth. It glided perfectly.

  I wanted to fist pump in victory, but I remembered I had three more joints to go, so I set to work. As I sent each burst of magic into the stickman, I did my best to focus my will and intention into my creation, just as Nemris had told me. I didn’t know how specific my power was, or really what all it could do yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. So, as I upgraded Stan, I willed him to be a good little sidekick, and I instructed him to listen to any and all commands Aurora, Cayla, or I gave him.

  Several minutes later, I turned back to the two women with my hands cupped closed before me and a wide grin stretched across my face.

  “I now present the new and improved Stan,” I declared dramatically, and then I opened my palms to reveal the waving stickman.

  “Oh, how adorable,” Cayla cooed as she crooked her finger to wave back at Stan. “You’ve made him joints.”

  “Modeled it after the one I used in the top break,” I said proudly as I nodded at the new revolver on the table.

  “I think it is a vast improvement,” Aurora remarked as she bent down over my shoulder and smiled down at the stickman. “He can move so much easier now.”

  “Precisely,” I replied with a grin, “which means I’ve already learned my first lesson in making animatrons.”

  “Animatrons?” the half-elf echoed with a puzzled look.

  I waved my hand dismissively. “Another word from my world. It means animated machines. I could also say robots, but that doesn’t feel right since my creations are powered by magic and not some mundane power.”

  “I see,” Aurora muttered, but I could tell by her pursed lips that she was still a little confused.

  Cayla reached out and touched my elbow. “What is this lesson you learned, Mason? How will it help us?”

  “Well,” I said as I looked back at the princess, “I’ve learned that even with my new powers, my magic has its limitations. Take Stan, for example. I could make him a body and give him life, but I still needed to make his joints separately so that he could walk properly. Just like with the guns and Bobbie 2.0, I’ll need to make my animatrons piecemeal and then figure out a way to put them together depending on what I want or need them to do.”

  “Elias will be jealous when we return to Illaria and he sees what you’ve made without him,” Aurora remarked with a sly smile.

  “Honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to have his expertise,” I admitted, but then I shrugged. “I’ll get by though. It might take me a few more trials and a handful of more errors though.”

  “I have faith in you, Mason,” Cayla said as she reached out and cupped my cheek.

  I turned my head and smacked a kiss against her palm. “Thank you, dear. Although I haven’t even mentioned my biggest obstacle yet.”

  “Which is?” Aurora questioned.

  “Size,” I replied with a frown. “Nemris told me before that larger creations would take much more energy to create and bring to life. I don’t know exactly how much, but when I made Stan, I could feel a big dip in my power reserves even though he’s so small. I guess breathing life into inanimate objects comes at a steep price. Coupled with the fact that I also have to make each part for the animatrons myself before I even use my new ability, energy is my biggest concern. I’ll probably only be able to make one machine to start with.”

  “And what are these machines meant to accomplish?” Cayla asked with a tilt of her head.

  “Well, even with just the guns and Bobbie,” I started, “we have the superior weaponry. If we were face to face with Dred, we could end him in a heartbeat. The problem is finding him. He’s had weeks to entrench himself into Cedis, and as we saw he’s covered a good portion of it in booby traps. If we rode out to meet him, my concern is that, with his intimate knowledge of the landscape, he’d be able to ambush us. Aurora and I might be powerful, but we’re not invincible. A soldier made out of metal, on the other hand…”

  “Could attack without the fear of injury,” Aurora finished with a wide grin.

  “Exactly,” I replied as I tapped the side of my nose. “But first, I have to figure out how to make, power, and control it.
”

  “So, child’s play,” Cayla teased as she held out her hand toward me.

  I glanced down in time to watch Stan take a running leap from my palm to the princess’s, and he landed with a flourish on his bent new knees. I imagined what he could do if he had been human-sized, and excitement began to spiral through my veins again.

  “Alright,” I said as I slid to my feet and clapped my hands together, “tomorrow we start work on our new project, but I need some fuel and rest first, so I say we go track down some dinner. Who’s with me?”

  Aurora and Cayla raised their hands in unison, and then Stan waved his little matchstick of an arm back and forth.

  “Excellent,” I replied with a broad grin, and already my mind churned through a million designs and ideas and plans to take down all our enemies.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, I woke up before the sun rose and silently slipped out of bed so as not to wake up Aurora and Cayla. They were curled on the opposite edges of the mattress, and their faces looked so sweet that a part of me wanted to lie back down. But I forced myself to put on my clothes in the dark, plucked Stan from the bedside table, and headed off toward the workshop.

  The castle was hushed and quiet as I wound my way through its many halls. I could hear the echo of doors opening and closing in the distance as servants went about their morning chores, but I encountered no one during my journey.

  However, when I opened the door to the workshop, I was surprised to find Gwain, the royal blacksmith, already working the forges. He was an older man, probably in his early sixties, with light hazel eyes and thinning salt and pepper hair. He was thinner than most blacksmiths that I had met, but when we first met something in his eyes had reminded me of the watchmaker back in Illaria. We hadn’t conversed much, but I took him for a knowledgeable and intelligent man.

  I cleared my throat as I gently shut the door behind me, and Gwain snapped his head up.

  “Morning,” I said with a smile.

  “Good morrow, Defender Flynt,” the blacksmith replied as he bowed his head. “I apologize for the intrusion. I did not think you would be up and about this early.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for being in your own shop,” I laughed as I walked further into the room. “And please, call me Mason. I’m really not into this propriety and etiquette stuff unless it’s absolutely necessary, and it’s just us here.”

  Gwain frowned and furrowed his scraggly eyebrows. “If you insist… Mason, but for the duration of your stay, King Davit has decreed that this is your space. Your work is far more important than me mending my son’s chainmail.” He turned and gestured to a shirt of metal that was draped over an anvil.

  “Your son is in the royal guard?” I asked as I reached out and ran my fingers over the metallic links.

  “He is,” Gwain said with a nod.

  I picked up the shirt and even without my magic I found the tear in the chainmail easily. It was a gash about three inches long situated just along the ribcage, and I saw flecks of dried blood crusted around the jagged edges.

  “Is he alright?” I asked as I lifted my head.

  The blacksmith nodded again, but his lips pursed into a thin line. “He is alive and resting in the infirmary for a few days.”

  “What happened?” I questioned, but before he answered, I already knew what he was going to say.

  “Bandits,” he snarled. “My boy was taking some supplies to a nearby town. I think he’s sweet on a girl who lives there. Anyway, he and the other men in his company were ambushed on their return. They suffered no casualties, but my son wasn’t the only one injured.”

  I looked back at the shirt of mail in my grasp, and anger bubbled in my veins. From the lowest peasant to the king’s own guard, it seemed no one was safe from the likes of Camus Dred. The people of Cedis had truly suffered long and hard.

  But not for much longer.

  “Well I think your work is important too, Gwain,” I said as I looked back at him with a tight smile, “so feel free to share the workshop with me if you need. But today I think you should spend some time with your son.”

  The blacksmith tilted his head at me in confusion, but before he could say a word, I summoned up a little magic and funneled it into the metal shirt in my hand. As Gwain watched with wide eyes, the chainmail wove itself back together again until it looked as whole and new as the first day it was crafted. When I finally withdrew my power, the metallic links practically shined.

  “How...?” Gwain started, but then he stopped himself as his eyes scrutinized me from head to toe. “King Davit said you were a mage and a master smith, but I had no idea…” He trailed off as he reached out and took the shirt of mail from me, and then he ran his fingers over the reformed links. “This is incredible work.”

  “Eh, that’s nothing,” I said with a shrug. “You haven’t even seen my masterpieces.”

  “Yes,” the blacksmith responded as he glanced at the workshop table on the other side of the room. “I have heard talk of your extraordinary weapons, though I must confess the pieces you left behind were quite… peculiar.”

  “Those were just the scraps,” I chuckled as I reached down and patted the top-break revolver that now sat in the holster at my hip. “This was the final product, but it’s going to pale in comparison to my next project. Camus Dred and all his bandits are going to meet their reckoning very, very soon.”

  Gwain’s eyes jumped from the gun back to my face. “Your next project? What could be more powerful than your magic and that thing on your hip?”

  “This,” I said proudly, and then I reached into my pocket and extracted Stan.

  The blacksmith’s jaw fell to the floor as the stickman stretched in my palm and waved. He looked from Stan, back to me, and back to the stick figure again.

  “What… in the name of all the gods is that?” Gwain gasped as his eyes bulged.

  “Gwain, I would like you to meet my friend Stan,” I replied with a grin. “He’s a little something I cooked up with my magic, but he’s only a first attempt. I plan to make much larger models, something that can take on Camus Dred and all his cronies.”

  “How… how do you plan on accomplishing such a feat?” the blacksmith stuttered. His eyes were glued on Stan, and the stick figure tilted his head curiously as if he was trying to figure Gwain out, too.

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted as I rubbed at the back of my head. “That’s why I’m here so early. I want to get started straight away because it will probably take me a while to figure out the logistics.”

  The blacksmith chewed on the chapped skin of his lower lip, and I watched as the gears turned behind his hazel eyes. I waited for him to respond, but then Stan tugged at my thumb, and I looked down to see the stickman pointing at Gwain.

  “Whatcha want, buddy?” I asked, but Stan just pulled more insistently at my thumb, so I extended my hand out toward the blacksmith.

  When my fingers were inches away from Gwain’s chest, Stan jumped up and down in my palm and held his arms up. The blacksmith looked up at me in befuddlement, but I simply shrugged and nodded down to the little stickman.

  Hesitantly, Gwain held up his hand, palm flat, and then Stan bent his knees and jumped. He landed and tottered for a moment before he found his footing. Then he looked up at the blacksmith and waved.

  Gwain chuckled in amazement and waved back.

  “This is remarkable,” the blacksmith breathed. “You have breathed such life into him.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled, “still not sure how much. I’m not even really sure how he works, but he listens to most commands and sometimes has a mind of his own. He’ll give you a high-five though. Well, a guess a high-one, technically, since he doesn’t have fingers.”

  The blacksmith glanced at me in confusion, and I grinned.

  “Just hold your fingertip up in front of him,” I instructed.

  Gwain looked back down to Stan and did as I said, and the stickman jumped to slap at the
pad of the blacksmith’s index finger. Gwain laughed with delight, and his hazel eyes sparkled.

  “What can I do to aid you, Mason?” the blacksmith suddenly said as he lifted his head with a broad smile.

  I blinked. “What?”

  Gwain nodded down to Stan, who was now walking the lines of his palm like a tightrope. “This is a miracle. Never in my life could I have imagined that I would witness something like this. I had heard the claim that you declared you could save Cedis. I’ll admit, I was skeptical at first, but seeing this… I believe you are telling the truth, and I want to do whatever I can to help you save my kingdom.”

  A broad grin spread across my face. “Well, okay then. I’ll accept whatever help I can get. The first thing I need to know is how much iron do you have, and second, can you get more?”

  “We have a modest supply,” Gwain replied, “but I’ll melt all the iron fixtures in the castle if need be.”

  “Perfect,” I said as I reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let’s get to work.”

  The first thing I had us do was to take stock of all the materials Gwain had at his disposal. He did, in fact, have a nice supply of iron, a closet full of ingots to be precise. He also had a small number of other metals, too: gold, silver, copper, tin, lead, and I even found some mercury rolling around a glass jar. When I spied the gold and silver, I had the errant thought of making Aurora and Cayla some jewelry, but I filed that away for later.

  Today, I was going to make some robots.

  Since Aurora was sleeping, and I didn’t want to waste any energy, I asked Gwain to fire up the forges and melt down a good chunk of iron. Then, just like back in Illaria, I refined that iron into silver steel. It took a while, but several hours after I entered the workshop, Gwain turned to me with sweat beaded on his brow and his cheeks red from the forges.

  “What now, Mason?” he asked as he gestured to the molten metal.

  I grinned, looked up from the diagrams I had hastily scrawled, and summoned my magic back up to the surface.

  “Now comes the fun part,” I replied, and then I raised my hand and truly set to work.