Vinnie’s chosen stable was a more recent addition to the property and was separated from the others by nearly a hundred feet. His work was sometimes loud, so the space kept much of the noise away from the working stables. It was also the only stable large enough to contain the two magitech vehicles, all the captured manufacturing equipment, and provide enough workshop space.
Vinnie stood by the rear wheels of one of the vehicles admiring the design. Two wagon wheels were combined to make a single roller, and a metal band was wrapped around the dual rims. Cleats were attached to the band to give the machine traction over soft ground.
The vehicle was replete with clever elements like this. Vinnie wished he had invented it. He needed to understand how the vehicle and the other captured machines worked, and he needed to know quickly. Especially now.
After the fight three weeks ago, Vinnie had ordered anything magitech-related collected and brought to him here. In a moment of poetic justice, Gormer, who’d stolen one of the vehicles before the fight, had run down the engineer with his own creation during a daring escape. The engineer had left behind a wealth of knowledge in the form of drawings, notes, journals, and manuals.
Vinnie had spent every day and most nights since studying the magitech engineer’s writings. He was just beginning to understand magitech and how much potential it had. He was also certain magitech was the key to not only this new threat but to the many burning questions about magic he’d had since he was a child.
That was why he now called on the best village scribes, craftsman, and scholars he’d met during his time in the protectorates. He couldn’t unlock these mysteries alone. Not at the speed he required. He needed a team.
A man behind Vinnie cleared his throat. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.
“Hello, Oscar,” Vinnie greeted the new arrival. “You’re looking well.” He couldn't hide his silly grin.
Oscar ran his hand through his mop of light brown hair, then scratched his scraggly beard. “Yeah, I am feeling a lot better. Much more like myself. I hope you won’t ask me to ride in that thing. The last time I did, I nearly lost my mind.”
“The way I heard it,” Vinnie replied, “you did lose your mind.” He couldn’t resist the playful jab.
Gormer had relayed the story of how he freed all the forced labor from the magitech factory and stole one of the vehicles. Oscar was the first one to open fire on his captors. The stress of captivity and the high-speed chase that followed had made Oscar a bit manic.
Gormer described how Oscar had climbed out onto the roof of the vehicle en route. Oscar’s wild shooting at the vehicle’s faster twin chasing them probably saved everyone. The driver kept having to swerve to avoid the shots.
“Gormer tells a great story.” Vinnie chuckled, then wrapped his thick arm around Oscar’s shoulders. “I just had to give you a hard time.” The big man led Oscar over to a row of benches covered with strange machines full of exposed gears, wires, rollers, and cables.
Oscar shrugged, and his sheepish smile underlined his reply. “How can I help you?”
“As a village scribe, you know all about alchemy, horticulture, and the mechanical arts,” Vinnie began.
“Not ‘all about,’” Oscar interjected. “But a lot. I just took over for our senior scribe after he died last winter. I’m still a novice.”
“But you have worked with these machines yourself. I’m hoping you understand how they operate.”
Oscar paused and placed a tentative hand on one of the machines. “They had us standing at these things fifteen hours a day. They beat us and threatened our families if we didn’t produce. I didn’t take the time to study these machines.” He paused, then turned to Vinnie. “I’d like to see them destroyed.”
Vinnie arched an eyebrow. “Surely, you don’t mean that. Used properly, these machines—"
“These machines made weapons that blew people to bits. We don’t need devices like that in the world.”
“But devices like this are already in the world. If we don’t have them as well, we will be vulnerable. This man Yarik—the engineer from Arcadia, far to the West—he brought his knowledge with him from that place. Nothing is served by ignoring what exists. I asked you here to join my laboratory to understand what these machines are and how they work. I can’t do it alone. If we master magitech, we can use it to make lives better.”
Oscar stared intensely at the machines for a moment. “I can tell you what I know—what I think I know about these machines, but I won’t help you make weapons.” He turned back to the two vehicles parked side by side. “I will, however, help you understand the porcupines,” he promised.
“The porcupines?” Vinnie asked. It took him a moment to remember what the previous owners had called them.
“Yes,” Oscar replied, running his hand over the slightly rounded steel plates. “They called them ‘porcupines’ because when the soldiers inside poked their guns out of these murder slots,” he pointed to the rectangular openings that ran along the sides, “it looked like quills.”
Oscar sighed and shook his head.
The porcupines were shaped like slightly-squashed cylinders with a rounded front driver cabin and a flat rear section with a door that lowered to form a ramp. At twenty feet long, they could hold many soldiers, tons of equipment, or a combination thereof.
“A carriage that moves without horses,” Oscar observed. “That is something we can use to better our lives. Imagine the time we could save getting food to market. Imagine a smaller version pulling a plow. Imagine the machinery that lets them move connected to a wheat thresher, a water pump, a grain mill…”
“Let’s start with something simple,” Vinnie interrupted. He removed a ten-inch-long metal cylinder from his long, white coat. The object had a clear globe on one end. He gave it a sharp wave and bright, white light flared from the globe.
Oscar covered his eyes.
“Sorry,” Vinnie said. He turned a dial at the base of the object, and the light dimmed. “I call this an amphorald torch. It’s one of the first things I devised after studying Yarik’s journals.”
Oscar took the torch when Vinnie offered it to him. He turned it over in his hands, then his brow furrowed. “This is a section of rifle barrel.” He turned off the torch, then brought the light-emitting end close to his eyes. “And the shiny end...this is a focus gem that goes inside a rifle receiver.”
“You see,” Vinnie asserted. “I’ve already thought of peaceful uses for the machines. I did repurpose rifle parts to make this. Follow me.”
He marched past Oscar and deeper into the stables to a pair of new, unfinished pine doors. He pushed them open, and Oscar stopped dead in his tracks. They’d converted the back half of the stables into a workshop. It was full of people milling about in white coats. Some of the horse stalls had wood or tile panel finishes, and bright magitech lamps hung from the high ceiling.
In the wide center section, rows of benches ran the entire length. Even the hayloft was utilized.
“So far,” Vinnie asserted. “I have thirty-four scribes, blacksmiths, scholars, craftspeople, and alchemists working in my laboratory. How would you like to be the thirty-fifth?”
Oscar walked over to a bench where rows of red, green and clear amphoralds sat in neat lines.
“Where did you get all the amphoralds?” he asked.
“From the caves,” a reedy voice answered behind him. Oscar turned to see a pale young woman with white hair and reddish eyes. She squinted at him. “You must be Oscar, from the factory fight.”
Oscar smiled and stuck out his hand, but the girl obviously didn’t see, so he moved closer. They shook as Vinnie introduced them.
“This is one of my finest students,” Vinnie announced. “Her name is Elise.”
“We’re your only students,” Elise replied.
She also wore a long, white coat. Vinnie waved over to another young person who was working in one of the converted stalls. “Jakub,” he called. “Oscar is here.”
Jakub grabbed a white coat from a peg and headed over. Vinnie kept a close eye on Oscar to gauge his reaction. The scribe glanced briefly at Jakub’s short, fingerless right arm, arched his eyebrows for a split second, then looked the boy in the eyes.
This is the right man for the job, Vinnie thought.
Jakub handed him the coat and stated, “If you’re going to work here, you’ll need one of these.”
“We call them lab coats,” Vinnie proclaimed proudly. “It’s part of a uniform that New Ancient scientists wore. I saw some pictures long ago in an esoteric archive.”
Oscar harrumphed. “I’m not sure you want to take on the habits of the people who blew up the world. The New Ancients aren’t around for a reason, you know.”
“Yes,” Vinnie countered with a twinkle in his eye, “but they are ancient for a reason, too. That was a long time ago, and we don’t have to repeat their mistakes.”
The three turned at the sound of a clatter. Another young person—obviously pudgy even in his odd-looking, lumpy armor—walked down the aisle of benches. His arms were loaded with metal contraptions both large and small. Some of the smaller objects dropped from the teetering load as he walked.
“Cole why are you doing that in your armor?” Jakub called.
The teenager cursed mightily as he stopped at a bench and shouldered an older man out of the way.
“Look out,” he grunted as he dropped his burden. Some of the mechanical bits fell to the ground and drew more lusty curses from the young man with the round, red face.
Elise sighed, walked over to Cole and put a hand on his armored shoulder. “Remember what Gormer told you,” she reminded him. “When you get angry or frustrated, take a breath. Everything will smooth out.”
“I’m not angry!” Cole shouted and batted her hand away.
Elise snorted with laughter.
“Shit,” Cole cursed, and his face turned a deeper red. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat and turned to Vinnie. “Teacher, I dismantled that machine like you asked me to. Here are all the important parts for study.”
Vinnie’s deep chuckle gave them all permission to laugh, even Cole. Oscar judiciously opted for a polite smile at the in-joke.
“This fiery young man,” Vinnie announced, “is Cole. He and his team here are responsible for the new armor you saw during the battle.”
“Very impressive,” Oscar acknowledged. His obvious admiration made all the teens stand just a bit taller. “You do excellent work.”
“The man-mountain showed us how,” Cole declared.
Vinnie nodded his head with pride. “But why are you in armor, Cole?” the big man asked.
“Hanif is coming to train me today,” Cole gushed with excitement.
‘Don’t you mean ‘First Lieutenant Hanif?” Vinnie challenged.
“Nah,” Cole dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m a Woods Person. We don’t do titles. He knows I respect him.”
“Wow,” Elise exclaimed. “I know it’s true if you say that out loud.”
Cole chuckled and made a rude gesture. He was legendary for his foul temper and his acerbic demeanor. He pretended not to like or respect almost anyone.
Vinnie clapped his hands. “OK. Everyone has much work to do. I’ll see you back here for your evening lessons. Tarkon will be here to work on your Forge magic.” He shooed them away with a wave of his hands.
Vinnie turned to Oscar. “And that leaves you and me.”
Oscar considered the lab coat in his hand. He held it in front of him. “I’m in,” he decided and slipped on the coat.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Vinnie replied. “How are you with flora and fauna?”
Oscar shrugged. “Same as my peers, I suppose. All the village scribes are trained in the natural arts. Our main function is to help the village manage its crops and livestock.”
“Come with me then,” Vinnie offered. “I want to know what you think of...something…”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Oscar muttered as he followed Vinnie to the rear of the stable where another pair of heavy, new-looking doors separated a sizable area of the warehouse from the rest.
These doors were guarded by tough-looking Woods People with magitech rifles.
“Ah,” Oscar balked. “I don’t do well behind closed doors with armed guards.”
The guards relaxed a bit and withdrew.
“Sorry,” one of them apologized. She lowered her weapon until the muzzle nearly touched the ground. “It’s not for you. We don’t want the things to get out, dead or alive.”
“That did not make me more comfortable at all,” Oscar stammered, backing away. “What’s in there?”
“I will keep you safe,” Vinnie promised, fixing Oscar with contagiously confident eyes.
Oscar grudgingly relented and followed Vinnie through the doors.
The walls and floor of the space were covered in white tiles that amplified the light from the bright amphorald lamps overhead. There was a single workbench in the room, and its surface was constructed from smooth metal.
Oscar froze when he saw the corpses of remnant lined along one wall. He gasped when he noticed the bizarre-looking creatures arranged on the table.
He looked from the corpses and back to the creatures.
“Those...things...they were attached to the remnant’s necks… What is this place?”
“I had this room built for working with more delicate machinery that requires clean space. It happens to serve quite nicely as a morgue.”
Oscar shuddered. “This is…”
“Disturbing,” Vinnie finished.
He was pleased when Oscar moved closer to the red-shelled creatures. Vinnie handed him a long metal rod. “Examine it with this,” he offered. “Probably best not to touch them with bare hands.”
“Are they dead?”
“They appear to be.”
Oscar was fascinated. He grabbed a second instrument and began poking and prodding.
“It has a shell like a crustacean—much like the crayfish in slow-running creeks,” Oscar noted. He forgot everything else. “But these pincers look more like those of a scorpion.” He moved to another of the creatures that had been sliced along its abdomen. “Look at this belly. It’s rimmed with—” he counted, “Thirteen small limbs per side.”
Vinnie handed him a magnifying glass when Oscar bent down for a closer look. He went down the row of dead creatures, examining each one with the glass. As he studied he let out little gasps, humming noises and sometimes, long, soft whistles.
“These creatures are astounding,” he exclaimed. “They are like nothing I’ve ever encountered. How would you account for the lack of variation?”
Vinnie stared blankly. “You have me at a loss,” he admitted.
Oscar used the metal probes to arrange two creatures at the edge of the table. “Most animals have some asymmetry in their body parts and variation in size and coloration. These do not. Not much, anyway. Look at these claws.” He pushed the two bodies closer together. “They have the same shape. You must look extremely close to see any variation. There is practically none. Also, these little claws on the underside; they seem to be smaller duplicates of the two main claws.”
“I hadn’t noticed that before!” Vinnie exclaimed. “I was too busy looking at the insides. What do you think this means?”
Oscar set the instruments down and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t have enough information to say with certainty…”
“Let’s suspend the rigors of observation for a moment,” Vinnie proposed with his most disarming smile. “We can forgive conjecture in this case.”
“I hesitate to say this, because I may be biased due to my experience with machines. But it’s almost as if these things were manufactured. The uniformity speaks of something other than a natural process. It’s insane, I know...”
“This is why you are here,” Vinnie exclaimed. “I would not have considered this. What if they were manufactured like magitec
h rifles.”
“It’s usually the simplest explanation that’s true,” Oscar observed as he put down the instruments and stepped away from the table. The longer view changed his attitude. “These things are being set loose on our world.”
“By someone,” Vinnie added.
“If these things were created, then we need to find the creator and stop them,” Oscar concluded.
“How do you propose we do that?” Vinnie dangled the question with a smile.
“As a community of scholars,” Oscar replied with unwavering eyes.
“Welcome to The Workshop.”
Chapter Four
Stop Running
Gormer woke screaming on the forest floor. He sprang to his feet in a spasm of fear and ran for his life. The shouts at his back swiped at him. His bare feet splashed through warm puddles on a well-trodden path that wound through the trees.
“My meal is running away,” boomed the voice of the remnant pack leader. “Running will make your meat sour! If you spoil my meat, I will make them pay! Come back, and I might let one of them live. What about your sister? Your father? Your mother...”
Don’t look back, Gormer ordered himself, even as he felt the muscles in his neck twitch. Don’t look.
But the heavy footsteps were right behind him. He had to look. The thing had chased him since he was a child. Why not look?
No, another voice commanded in his head. You have seen enough. Remember. Come back to me. The voice was familiar. A woman. Who was it? The voice carried just as much kindness as it did strength and power. Yet it filled him with a different sort of dread.
The shock of that new voice made his foot slip in the next puddle. Why was the trail so wet? The rest of the forest was dry.
Don’t look at your feet. Don’t look behind you, the voice urged. It’s not too late for you. It never was. Come back to me, Gormer. Come back to us.
Gormer glanced at his feet. They were coated with blood. The trail was soaked with blood and dotted with rent flesh. Tattered scraps of bloody clothing were draped over the tree branches like macabre laundry. He recognized his father’s tunic.
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