Void Wyrm: The Magitech Chronicles Book 2

by Chris Fox

“Done.” Crewes stumbled from the matrix, dropping into the chair next to Pickus. He quickly buckled himself in.

  “Nara, you have one more ’port in you?” Aran asked.

  She looked exhausted, but she nodded. “Hold on.”

  The ship warped again, and they appeared a thousand meters away from the Wyrm. The sudden removal of the claw exposed them to space, and their atmosphere rushed through the hole, sucking out anything not locked down.

  Aran barely seized the stabilizing ring, fighting desperately to avoid being sucked out into space.

  “Cloak us,” Aran roared over the rushing wind. He extended a hand at the hole in the ceiling, pulled at the reservoir of water magic within him, and poured out a spray of water, which froze well before reaching the hole.

  The ice thickened, building in layers. At first, chunks of ice were sucked through the hole. Then, a large piece stuck, slowing the flow of air. More ice built, until the rushing stopped as the hole was finally plugged.

  He gave a relieved sigh, glancing up at the monitor. The Wyrm was closing again, its features twisted with rage. Aran guessed they had maybe five or six seconds, then it would finish them. He tapped the void sigils again, pouring the last of his magic into the spelldrive. They accelerated once more, leaving a trail of debris in their wake as they rocketed away.

  Something massive slammed into the Wyrm from the side. Aran saw dozens of slimy black tentacles, but had no idea what they were attached to. He didn’t want to know, not really. They swarmed the dragon, wrapping around both wings and its legs.

  “Do you think it will kill the Wyrm?” Nara asked in a small voice. She leaned heavily on the stabilizing ring.

  “I don’t know.” Aran grinned, ducking out of the command matrix. “But we’ve gone dark, and thanks to your spell we’re cloaked. By the time this fight is settled we’ll be long gone, and hopefully we’ll never see that thing again.”

  “Well done, Lieutenant. I am impressed yet again. Nara, that was some incredible spell work.” Voria gave her a respectful nod, and Nara responded with a pleased smile. “We’re left with a question, one we don’t have an easy answer to: Why was this Wyrm waiting for us in the void? Why did it attack the instant we left the planet? Wyrms don’t hunt this close to Shaya. This thing was here for us.”

  Aran frowned. “I’ll bet you anything I can guess who sent it.”

  27

  REPAIRS

  Aran ducked from the matrix and extended his hand toward the dense patch of smoke clogging the top of the room. He waved his hand, swirling several air tendrils. They gathered the smoke into a tight little ball, encasing it in a bubble.

  “Pickus,” Voria said, clearly back in command, “looks like we’re still getting smoke from fires in the ship’s interior. How do we deal with that?”

  “Uh, I guess we could have the guy with the sword magic up a wall of ice. If he can block off that panel, any fires inside will go out almost instantly. You just have to seal the seams, really.” Pickus moved over to the panel and stretched out a palm toward the metal. “Holy crap, that’s hot. This is the central static motivator. After the fire is out, I’m going to have to replace it. Until that’s fixed, we’re basically drifting.”

  “How long?” Voria asked.

  Aran summoned ice around the smoke he’d gathered, letting it fall to the deck with a thunk. “I’ll start with the fire.” He pressed his hands onto the panel, firing off jets of ice. It boiled away to steam, and the metal buckled from the sudden change in temperature. He poured more water magic into the spell, and a thick coat of frost grew across the panel. After a few more applications, it solidified into two-centimeter-thick ice.

  “Perfect. I can probably get her up and running in a few hours. For now, she won’t impede our progress. We’re already on the right course, so as long as we don’t have to turn or maneuver we should be fine.” Pickus adjusted his glasses, turning to face Aran. “That was some slick work with the tentacle thing. How did you know it would come?”

  “I didn’t,” Aran admitted. “If I’d been wrong, we’d be dragon lunch. We got lucky.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll take it.” Nara used a towel to mop sweat from her face. “It’s nice being alive, but this place is cramped and reeks of smoke.”

  Pickus looked uncomfortable. “The oxygen scrubbers needed to be changed before we left. After that much fire? They’ll never recover. And, uh, we don’t have much in the way of spare parts. We have to live with this until we get home.”

  “We’ll make do.” Voria reached into her satchel and removed a book. “Presumably you don’t need me for repairs. I’m going to study some of the materials I brought. We need to understand what this planet we’re journeying to is, and who or what might control it. Aurelia has been vague about exactly what we’re supposed to do there, other than a vague premonition that we will receive the power we need to stop the Krox.”

  “Did you want some help?” Nara asked hopefully. Aran’s heart went out to her.

  Voria seemed indifferent to the plea. “Eventually. For now, I need some time to think.” She walked off into the mess, leaving a wilted-looking Nara in her wake.

  “Are there other tasks we can help with, Pickus?” Aran moved over to Nara and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled up at him, then looked away.

  “Probably not. You magey types don’t know shit about our tech, and I don’t want you accidentally frying a circuit board.” He turned to Crewes. “You look like you’re from Yanthara. You guys buy a lot of Ternus stuff. Do you know how to solder wires?”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I don’t even need a soldering iron.” Crewes held up two fingers, and a bit of flame appeared. “You just show me what you need done.” He followed Pickus out of the mess and into the cockpit.

  “Guess being useless at repairs means we have five minutes to actually sit down.” Nara moved to one of the chairs along the side of the cockpit, sat heavily, and began massaging her own neck. “Battles are short, but they knock me on my ass.”

  “Yeah.” Aran shook his head, taking the seat next to her. “I don’t get it. I mean, the Ternus Marines can keep firing forever. We’re wiped after a couple skirmishes. I know we’ll get stronger over time, but I feel like we’re only using half the tools in our arsenal. We really should carry more tech around, to supplement the magic.”

  “I’m taking the opposite route.” Nara extended a hand and a silver staff appeared with a pop. “I’m relying more on magic, and less on tech. Eros disintegrated my spellpistol, and I didn’t have time to bring another.”

  “I’m sure Voria will loan you one,” Aran offered.

  “I almost asked her, but honestly? After working with Eros, I think it’s smarter to rely on my magic. He talked a lot about habits and muscle memory during my training.” She stopped massaging her neck and looked up at him. “So what do you think we’ll find on the planet?”

  “Sunshine and rainbows, definitely,” Aran replied with a laugh. “There’s no way it will be a total clusterfuck, and I’m sure we’ll have all the resources we need at our disposal.”

  “Huh, so this is you on sarcasm.” Nara punched him in the arm, though she was smiling. “Stick with the tall dark and deadly thing. It’s definitely hotter.”

  28

  THE SPINNER OF DARKNESS

  Voria looked up from the tome she’d been studying, nodding at Nara as the young woman dropped into the seat across from her. The table was tiny, barely holding the two stacks of books she’d brought with her.

  “How can I help?” Nara asked, brushing a lock of dark hair from her cheek. Her eyes roamed the books on the table hungrily—a hunger Voria shared. They might not agree on methods, but that hunger was something she and Nara had in common.

  “We’ll start with the augury itself.” Voria removed the golden plate from her satchel and set it atop one of the stacks of the books. “I’ll let you see why we’re here.”

  She played the augury, the flames licking upward as it began to di
splay the same images Aurelia had shown her. When the darkness seeped outward, Nara leaned back in her chair, away from the augury. Her gaze remained steady, and that subtle flinch was her only concession to fear.

  Nara looked up at Voria. “What do you think it means?”

  “Obviously there’s a planet here in the Depths, but beyond that? We know little.” Voria hated admitting her own ignorance, but the only thing worse would be pretending she knew more than she did. “I’ve done some basic research trying to locate a god powerful enough to do what we’re seeing here. I’ve turned up nothing. There’s no god known to dwell in the Umbral Depths, or any god reputed to use darkness to obscure divination, certainly not on this scale.”

  “Hmm. This is the Codex Divinia, right?” Nara picked up one of the thickest tomes. “Why don’t I start here? I’ll see if I can find anything we can use. There are a lot of myths in here about darkness.”

  Voria smiled and turned the page in the volume she was studying. “You’re efficient. An admirable quality. I will continue reading the first account of the Umbral Depths. Maybe there’s a scrap of legend here.”

  The pair read in silence for some time, with the sound of pneumatic drills and other power tools in the background. Voria had no idea what Pickus was fixing, and she didn’t care, so long as he kept the vessel airtight and flying. She did her best to tune the noise out, perusing chapter after chapter of what amounted to unsubstantiated fairy tales.

  The odor of smoke never abated, but true to Pickus’s word she noticed it less. The human mind really could adapt to almost anything. She tried to focus on the page, but her mind kept wandering back to the assault by the Void Wyrm.

  If Nebiat had indeed sent it, did that mean the dreadlord was back on Shaya, even now? She could wreak havoc if able to work in secret—binding powerful politicians or warriors. It was a bold move for a dreadlord, one that left her vulnerable should Voria find a way back from their current quest.

  “Major? I think I may have found something relevant.” Nara turned the book she’d been reading and slid it over in Voria’s direction. “That page talks about something called the Weaver—the spinner of darkness. She’s said to know all things. Only a rare few seek her out, and most never find her. She hides in the cracks between worlds, always evading her enemies. It isn’t much, but this picture is all I could find.”

  Voria stared down at it. A monstrous spider perched in darkness, its eight eyes peering at the reader over a set of vicious fangs. “I believe you’re on to something. The arachnidrake from the augury could certainly be the progeny of that thing. See what else you can learn of this Weaver. Perhaps we’ll find something useful.”

  Nara immediately bent back to the book, her eyes shifting back and forth as she scanned the contents. Voria smiled into her hand. The girl was coming into her own, and the longer Voria spent with her, the more certain she was that Eros was right.

  Nara would eclipse them all, some day.

  29

  SHIT MEET FAN

  “Let’s hope this works.” Aran stepped into the newly repaired defensive matrix and channeled a bit of air magic into the gold ring.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried the silver. Nothing. “You’re sure it’s connected?”

  “It’s connected, but I had to jerry-rig some stuff. Are you familiar with how electricity works? The concept of resistance?” Pickus pushed his glasses up his nose. The question was genuine, without a hint of sarcasm or judgement.

  “I have no idea what that is,” Aran admitted. “I mean, I know what electricity is, but I’ve never heard of resistance. Can you dumb it down for me?”

  “Uh, sure. Not all the magic you put into the matrix actually makes it to the ship. It’s like a hose with multiple leaks. You lose a bunch of water, so you need to pour in extra to compensate. It looks like nothing’s happening, but if you pour in more magic, the ship should respond.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. That’s more than what we had. Nice work.” Aran stepped out of the matrix. It wasn’t much, but it meant one more mage could help defend the ship, even if their spells were weaker. “We should be arriving any minute. I’m going to slow us down. Can you go get Nara and Voria?”

  “Hey, Nara!” Pickus yelled.

  Aran winced. “I could have done that.”

  Nara and Voria strolled into the room and dropped into the seats next to the wall. They sat with knees angled toward each other, like friends, or colleagues at least.

  Aran smiled as he reached up to tap the bronze ring. “We’re about to arrive, and I can’t see anything on the monitors. How will we know we’re in the right place?”

  Voria smoothed the sleeves of her jacket. “The augury might be vague in many ways, but it was very specific about the coordinates for this world. It will be there; I know it.”

  Aran ducked back into the command matrix and fed a bit of void magic to the ship. He exerted gravity, slowing their speed by about twenty percent. “Okay, we’re hitting the coordinates in three, two, one…this is the place.” Aran killed the thrust, and the Texas slowed to a halt—not that there was any visible reference to show them their speed had changed.

  Voria’s hands tightened on her armrests. “There’s nothing here.”

  Silence weighed heavily over the bridge as they all stared at the monitor. The unbroken blackness sat there, taunting them. Aran took a deep breath. Had they come all this way for nothing? That seemed too cruel, even for a god.

  “I have an idea.” Nara’s face took on the excited half-smile she wore when figuring something out. “If I were going to hide a world, especially for millennia, I’d want to take precautions to make sure no one found it, right?”

  “Doesn’t putting it way the depths out here already do that?” Crewes asked as he stepped into the cockpit and dropped into a chair on the opposite wall. The circles under his eyes were large and dark. “Man, I hate this place. It gets under your skin. Like an itch you can’t never scratch.”

  “Hiding a world out here is a start,” Nara said excitedly. “But if you’re a god, you don’t leave it to chance. I’d make an illusion, so even if someone passed directly through the system where you’d hidden the world, they’d have no idea it was there. Aran, guide the ship forward slowly. I’m betting if we continue on our current course, just a bit further, we’ll break through their illusion.”

  “Worth a shot.” Aran willed void into the matrix and the ship crept sluggishly forward.

  They waited for what felt like hours. No one spoke, knowing if Nara’s plan didn’t work they had no backup.

  An eternity later the view on the monitor rippled, and a planet suddenly appeared below them. The screen displayed it in shades of green and black, though Aran doubted that was the real color.

  He turned to Pickus. “How are we able to see the planet? There’s nothing but total darkness. Where is the light coming from?”

  “That’s not light. The ship is using a kind of a sonar system. It fires a ping, which maps the terrain, then bounces back to the ship. The image we see is a composite of dozens of pings. Because of the planet’s distance, it probably took several minutes to collect the data.” Pickus cocked his head, then turned to look at Voria. “Wait—if you guys don’t use sonar, how do you see in the dark?”

  “There are several magical methods,” Voria said, “but now isn’t the time to enumerate them.” She walked into the defensive matrix, and after a moment Nara stepped into the offensive. “Shall we approach the world and see what we can learn?”

  “It’s not a big planet,” Aran said, “but that’s still a lot of ground to cover. Where do you want me to set down?” He coaxed the spelldrive to greater life, and it carried them toward the tiny planet.

  Voria grabbed the stabilizing ring with both hands as the ship rattled. “We know what the temple looks like: a large, pyramid-shaped mountain in the center of an empty plain. We’ll circle the world until we find it, then set down as close as possible.”


  “Looks like a breathable atmosphere,” Pickus mused, his face bathed by the glow of his little pocket screen again. “But it’s cold down there. We’re going to want to dress nice and warm.”

  “Our spellarmor is still in the hold,” Aran pointed out, “and we can’t reach it until we land.” He hated being without it, but right now it was out of reach. “The instant we touch down, I want everyone into their armor. Arm up. We have no idea what’s down here.”

  He focused on the monitor, guiding the ship closer. It jerked as the planet’s gravity caught, dragging them down. The rattle increased, and a high-pitched whine came from somewhere in the cargo bay.

  “If we lose the hold, we lose the spellarmor.” Voria said. “Nara, perhaps cushion our reentry with ice through the defensive matrix?”

  “Good idea.” Nara tapped the water sigil on each of the three rings, and deep blue energy rolled out of her in waves, into the ship. The monitor showed ice beginning to form, but it melted to steam as full re-entry began. “I don’t know if it’s helping, but I can keep this up for a few minutes at least.”

  Pickus patted the wall next to his seat. “The worst of it will be over in less than a minute. The Texas will hold. She’s been through far worse.”

  As if to put the lie to his words, a flaming hunk of magma—like those the sergeant used, but far, far larger—came streaking up from the planet. It slammed into the side of the ship just behind the cockpit, punching a hole through the hull on the aft side of the mess.

  Wind screamed through the breach, ripping away Voria’s words as she tried to yell something at Aran. He thought swiftly. If he left the matrix, he might be able to seal the breach, but then no one was flying the ship. And, judging from the tortured shriek of metal on metal, this ship wasn’t going to survive the landing no matter what they did.

  Unless they had access to their spellarmor.

  Aran ducked out of the command matrix, and whipped a tendril of air around Nara’s matrix. He used it to pull himself closer, fighting the immense gravity as the ship plunged deeper into the atmosphere.