The Dragon Machine (Magebreakers Book 3)

by Ben S. Dobson

The man turned to face her. His wand was still in his hand. “You don’t want to get involved in this,” he said. There was a strange vibration behind his voice, and his eyes were glowing brighter than before. Even colorless, they almost looked like they were on fire.

  “Neither did people you take,” Kadka said. “Should have given them this choice, maybe.” She closed in, knife in hand.

  The man lunged, faster than a tunvok on the Svernan plains. His wand jabbed out toward her. She only barely caught his wrist. The wand quivered just an inch from her neck.

  She stabbed at his stomach, but he slapped her knife aside with the flat of his hand. The strength behind it was impossible for a man his size; she lost her grip, and the knife skittered across the ground into the alley wall, the steel blade visibly bent.

  And she couldn’t hold him back much longer. She’d never met a human who could outmuscle her, but the wand was nearly touching skin now. His eyes flared brighter still, and he shoved hard. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand and spun, yanking against his arm, using the force he was exerting against her and the slippery, rain-wet ground to wrench him around in a half circle. As he stumbled by, she grabbed the wand below the tip and twisted it back on itself—the core of it was malleable copper, and it didn’t stand up under pressure.

  The man regained his balance and tossed aside his ruined wand. Anger twisted his mouth below those bright, burning eyes. “I was trying to keep this simple. You should have left when you had the chance.” They’d traded sides, and there was nothing between him and escape now, but still he advanced on her. He was a foot shorter than she was, but she was fairly certain that the strength of whatever magic was fuelling him was enough to break her bones the way he had bent her knife.

  He didn’t make it to her. The light behind his eyes flared again, extending upward like licks of flame, and he staggered, half bent over as if in pain. “Ahh!” he screamed. Kadka backed off a step, uncertain, as the light grew brighter.

  The man mastered himself, but any interest he had in her was gone now. He turned, staggered toward the mouth of the alley.

  Just as Carver appeared to block his way.

  “Stop!” Carver demanded.

  The man didn’t. He bowled into Carver hard, knocking him from his feet. Staggering steps hastened into a run, and then a sprint—faster than before, if anything. Whatever pain he was in, the magic in him seemed to be growing stronger with the brightness in his eyes.

  Kadka ran for the mouth of the alley, turned to watch the man sprinting away. He bent low as he ran, gathering his strength, and then leapt.

  This time, he went much higher than five feet. He launched himself high enough to grasp a second-floor ledge on a nearby factory front, pulled himself up, and then threw himself higher still, scrabbling over onto the rooftop and disappearing from sight. No point chasing him; he’d be long gone before she could get up there.

  She bent by Carver’s side. “Are you hurt?”

  He let her help him to his feet, and rubbed his chest where the man’s shoulder had struck him. His tattered clothes were sodden and muddy from the thinly cobbled street. “Just… winded,” he wheezed.

  Kadka looked back to the building where the man had disappeared. “Did you get it in pocket? No following him other way now.”

  A smile replaced Carver’s pained grimace. “I did.” He drew a glass globe from his pocket, palm-sized, with perpendicular glyph-etched bands of copper circling the diameter horizontally and vertically. Inside, a compass needle was suspended in silver-blue light, pointing vaguely in the direction the man had run. An Astral compass, he’d called it when they’d gotten it from Bastian. “It’ll lead us to the beacon I planted on him, wherever he goes. Hopefully to wherever he’s taken Tinga and her friend.”

  Kadka grinned. “Good. Was worried you are too slow. Couldn’t keep him much longer.”

  “Well, I didn’t know he’d be that fast when we made the plan,” Carver said, mildly indignant. “Anyway, good thinking herding him in here. It got the job done.”

  “But he must have magic for such strength and speed, yes? If he thinks we are following, might mask against spells.”

  Carver shook his head. “The beacon is separate from his own Astral signature—he’d have to mask it individually, and he can’t do that unless he knows it’s there. Could detect it with a spell if he thinks to check, or he could just search his pockets, but he didn’t look like he was in any condition to notice.” He frowned. “What was that, anyway? Did you do something to him?”

  “His spell hurts him, I think,” said Kadka. “His eyes keep getting brighter, like fire.”

  “Not like any spell I’ve ever heard of. Maybe he’s lost control, or the Astral energy of the spell is reversing on him…” Carver looked down at the compass, traced its direction with his eyes. “Come on. Whatever it was, we need to get some answers before it kills him.”

  Chapter Six

  _____

  “THIS HAS TO be it,” Tane said, looking down at the silver-blue globe in his hand. The compass arrow pointed directly at the modest tenement building no matter where he moved. “He’s definitely in there.”

  The building sat on the edge of Greenstone near Rosepetal Park. Three floors high, each divided into four living spaces, two on either side of the building. Not extravagant, but by the size probably a few rooms each—more than the rows of brickfront housing in the poorer parts of town. Gutters along the rooftop directed water away from the building into downspouts that collected into rain barrels in the alleys on either side, already overflowing into little rivers running down the street.

  “Lives here, you think?” Kadka asked as they approached the door.

  Tane shrugged. “Probably. Could be a safehouse, but in a shared building, that would be risky. If it’s his, he’s making a living, but he’s far from rich. Maybe on someone’s payroll, not the brains behind whatever this is.” He tried the door, and it opened freely. “Didn’t lock it behind him. Let’s hope he’s still in a state to tell us something.”

  “And not throw us through wall,” Kadka added, stepping protectively in front of Tane to stride through the door. “Way he jumps up that building, he is getting stronger.”

  Tane followed her in. “Let’s assume I’m always hoping no one throws me through a wall.”

  Faded green paint covered the walls of the entry hall, and there was a stairway at the far end leading up. On either side, the doors to the first floor living spaces were marked with the numerals ‘1’ through ‘4’ in neat white paint.

  There was something foreboding about the mundanity of it, but at least it was good to be out of the rain. Tane peeled the sodden shawl from his head, tried to find a place to stow it, and then just tossed it on the floor. Kadka did the same, grinning slightly.

  Tane consulted the Astral compass. It pointed to the right hand side, but there was a steep upward slant to it.

  “He’s upstairs,” Tane said. “Third floor, probably, by the angle.”

  Kadka nodded and started for the stairs ahead of him.

  He was right about the floor; on the second, the compass directed them upwards again. As they emerged onto the third and highest floor, something caught Tane’s eye. A drift of something grey-black and powdery near the right-hand wall.

  He pointed it out. “What is that?”

  Ahead of him, Kadka bent down. “Looks like… ash?” She touched her finger to it, sniffed it. “Yes. Ash.”

  “That doesn’t bode well.” Tane was looking past her now—there was more of the stuff ahead, another drift leading to a door labelled ‘11’ on the right side of the hall.

  Kadka stayed in front as they approached, shielding him protectively. Past her, Tane could see now that the door was open a crack. Their kidnapper hadn’t even bothered to lock himself in.

  Kadka pushed the door open with her toe, stirring a little gust of ash into the air. Inside, the stuff was thicker on the floor, a trail leading further in, down a short entry
hall and around the corner out of sight. Kadka stepped over the threshold to follow the trail. No wards, apparently, but that wasn’t unusual for a private residence—most people couldn’t afford to keep one up regularly. Tane swallowed and rubbed his watch case, then followed her in.

  They found him in the den.

  What was left of him.

  In a high backed chair sat the charred silhouette of a man, not much more than an outline seared into the leather upholstery. His bones, where they hadn’t burned to powder, had fused with the chair in a crude mockery of human shape, a skeleton slouching in his seat. His skull hung crookedly against his chest, barely attached by a sparse remnant of blackened sinew. On the seat of the chair, ash piled high around his hips, and more heaped on the floor around his shinbones, one of which had crumbled off and fallen to the floor.

  “Spellfire,’ Tane breathed. Not entirely just to curse, but because it was what this looked like—a person murdered with spellfire. Unbidden, the image of Allaea’s charred body rose in his mind. It had been months, but the memory was as vivid as the day he’d seen her there, murdered on the floor of the University’s primary artifice workshop. Nothing left but ash and powdered bone where the silver fire had touched. “What did he do to himself? No spell is worth this.”

  But Kadka wasn’t looking. Her ears perked, and her head swivelled to a door on the far side of the room. She held a finger to her lips and pointed. “Someone is there,” she whispered.

  Tane reached into his pocket and palmed the shield charm there as Kadka crept for the door. If there was someone else there with them… What if this wasn’t the spell going wild? What if someone did this to him, and they’re still here?

  Kadka drew her knife, gripped the door handle, and threw the door open. It led into a darkened bedroom. Tane could hear the patter of raindrops against the floor.

  Inside the building.

  The window at the far end of the room was open.

  Tane rushed to the window sill with Kadka, and looked down. Below, clinging to a drain-pipe about halfway down the brick wall, was a goblin woman. No, she was younger than that, a trace of youthful roundness softening her sharp goblin features. A girl. No more than five and a half feet, pale green skin, wet brown hair plastered to her head. She looked up at them for a moment. Tane snatched the Astral compass from his pocket, held it up—the faint blue glow from within the glass illuminated her face. There was a small crescent scar on her right cheek.

  The girl’s eyes widened with fear, and she half-slid, half-dropped the rest of the way to the ground, landing heavily on her hands and knees.

  “Kadka, that’s her! That’s Tinga!” Tane leaned out to watch as the girl pushed herself up and started running down the rain-slick street.

  Behind the fleeing gobbling girl, a squat figure detached itself from the shadows along one side of the street, and started following.

  Tane jabbed a finger out the window. “There’s someone else chasing her. We have to get to her, now!”

  “Move, then,” Kadka said.

  Tane looked over at her; she was stowing her knife behind her back. He recognized the look in her eye. “I’ll meet you down there,” he said, and stepped out of the way.

  Without hesitation, Kadka vaulted out the third story window.

  _____

  Kadka vaulted over the windowsill, gripping it with one hand, and swung around to grab the drainpipe Tinga had climbed down.

  It didn’t take her weight as well as it had the slight goblin girl’s. Just above her, several brackets broke and two sections of pipe separated; water gushed from the opening, adding to the downpour and soaking her already wet clothes.

  The pipe swayed away from the wall, and Kadka swayed with it. But the lower brackets held just long enough for her to slide down as metal bent and broke overhead. She hit cobblestones and started running—and she didn’t look back when she heard a section of metal pipe clatter to the ground behind her. Indree sometimes scolded her and Carver for the damage they left behind, but buildings could be repaired. Protecting the girl came first.

  Her feet threw splashes of wet mud as she sprinted after Tinga. Carver hadn’t said who the other man was, but he was just ahead of her now, a wide-brimmed hat atop his head, longcoat flapping behind as he pursued the girl on short, solid legs. The oversized bulge of his left shoulder was obvious even beneath his coat.

  Lefty Lodestone. He must have followed them; she’d had a feeling he couldn’t be trusted.

  He was gaining on Tinga, muttering the words to a spell. Kadka wasn’t about to let that happen. Luckily, she was faster than both of them. Lefty heard her coming, looked over his shoulder, and veered right, still chanting—more rapidly now. She had no choice but to draw even on his left side, where he could use his artifact arm to defend himself.

  Kadka didn’t let that stop her. She shouldered into him hard from the side, slamming him against the wall. His voice choked off into a grunt as the spell died on his tongue. Wood and metal ground painfully against her arm, but she kept moving. She had to reach Tinga first.

  Something grabbed her from behind.

  Lefty wrenched her back toward him, the thick brass fingers of his artifact arm clenched in her soaking wet shirt. She spun into his grip, launched a fist at his face the way she’d wanted to when they’d first met. He released her, swayed to the side, and ducked in closer. A silver-blue glow flared in the palm of his metal hand.

  Kadka guessed what was coming an instant before it made contact. He’d pulled her in too close to dodge, but she could still slow him down. Maybe it meant they didn’t catch up to the girl this time, but at least Lefty wouldn’t either.

  She launched herself at the dwarf in a full tackle.

  His glowing palm pressed against her ribs.

  Blackness.

  _____

  It couldn’t have been more than a few moments before Kadka came back to her senses, because Lefty was still pinned under her against the muddy cobblestones. She’d had enough momentum when he’d dazed her to carry him down, just as she’d hoped.

  Lefty struggled beneath her, the elbow piston of his false arm straining to pull her off. “Get off! She’s getting away!”

  He was right; she couldn’t hear Tinga’s footsteps anymore. The goblin girl must have made her escape while Kadka was dazed.

  “Good,” Kadka said. One of her knees rested on Lefty’s stomach, and she pointedly put her weight down on it. A wheeze of breath forced its way out of the dwarf’s lungs.

  Lefty twisted beneath her, found some leverage, and finally yanked her off; his artifact arm looked clumsy, but it was strong. She hopped to her feet, and he put his metal palm flat against the ground and rapidly extended the piston at his elbow, pushing himself up with startling speed.

  Before he could move, Kadka had him shoved up against brick. “Who hires you? Why follow us?”

  “He’s after Tinga too.” Carver’s voice, from behind. He drew up alongside Kadka. “He knew we were looking for her. Isn’t that right, Lefty?”

  The dwarf smirked. “Can’t deny it now, can I? Figured you two would do the work—I don’t blend in so good around the Nest with this arm.”

  “Why, though?” Carver asked. “What do you want with her?”

  “That ain’t your business,” Lefty said. With heavy brass fingers, he grabbed the arm Kadka had pressed across his chest. She tensed, half-expecting him to daze her again. She didn’t know how much power the artifact in his palm still had.

  Instead he just clenched his fist.

  It was like a vice gripping her flesh. She held up a moment, gritting her teeth against the pain, but his grip was too strong. With a grunt, she pulled back, taking her weight off of him; he let her go, still smirking. Kadka rubbed her arm, but didn’t remove herself from his path. He wasn’t getting away that easily.

  “Tinga is our business,” she said. “Vreegs hire us to find her.”

  Lefty shrugged. “Well, it ain’t my business to help you.
” He paused a moment, and then, “Look, it ain’t personal. Just figured she might know something about the missing folk, and you might lead me to her. I got a job to do.” He straightened his coat, pulled it back over his heavy brass shoulder. “And it’s time I got back to it.”

  “No.” Kadka still blocked his way. “You don’t leave. Maybe we bring you to bluecaps.”

  “What for?” Lefty was maddeningly unconcerned. “I ain’t done anything criminal. Can’t say the same for you.” He nodded his head in the direction they’d come, toward the wrecked drainpipe. “They take me in for looking for the girl, they have to do the same to you. Do anything to me, and you’re the ones looking at time in the cells.”

  Carver put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s right, Kadka. We have to let him go. He’s not going to tell us anything anyway.”

  Kadka bared her teeth. “You leave her alone, or things don’t go as good for you next time.” Reluctantly, she stepped aside. But only slightly. Not so much that he didn’t have to duck around her to get by.

  Lefty started down the street, hesitated, and turned back. “Hey,” he said. His smirk was gone, for the moment, and he scratched absently at the old burn scar that ran up the left side of his neck and jaw. “Girl like that, she doesn’t last long out here alone. If you’re going to find her, find her quick.” With that, he pulled the brim of his hat down, shoved his right hand into his pocket, and strode away into the rain.

  “Is lying, yes?” Kadka said when Lefty was out of sight. Carver could usually tell, but she didn’t need him to, this time.

  “Oh, definitely,” said Carver. “I don’t think he was just after Tinga for information. Someone wants her found. But they don’t have her yet. She didn’t disappear because she was taken—she’s hiding.”

  “But why is she here, then? If she is hiding, why come to place where kidnapper lives?”

  “My guess? Same reason we did.” Carver smiled, just slightly, and there was admiration in his voice. “Remember what Laeris said? Her friend disappeared too. Cestra. I think Tinga means to find her.”