The slaver driver demons all cracked their whips and yanked on the chains around the creatures’ necks to direct them, and began leading the huge beasts through the city to search for fallen mechanical spiders that they could remove. Grakk’n watched all of this with a smile of satisfaction on his face. He did not know where the Factory Core was at this moment, but he hoped it was seeing what he was doing. He wanted it to know that he would not rest until he had defeated it and destroyed Karak-Drang. And right now, it seemed that this was, despite the Core’s best efforts, exactly what he was going to achieve.
“You dwarves and your machines think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he growled at the empty city, as his demons and cave trolls dragged out the bodies of dead demons, mechanical geckoes and spiders, and hacked at the machinery inside the bodies of the zombie demons. “Oh yes, you think you’re so clever, with your inventions and schemes … but you’re not too clever for me, you scum. I’ll destroy every last brick and stone in this town. I’ll wipe it off the face of the planet. I’ll burn every last piece of it to ashes … and when I’m done with that, I’ll take the Dark Lord’s armies to the Above World. And when we’re done with that, this whole world will be fire and ashes. And no army, and certainly no dwarven machine can stop me. It will all burn … everything will burn!”
CHAPTER 34
The Factory Core was ruminating as Grakk’n pulled back units from their raiding and destroying, and instead got them into more disciplined order, showing them how to destroy the internal machinery of the zombies, and getting them to haul disabled geckoes outside the city walls, while the massive cave trolls did the same with damaged spiders.
The Core had not anticipated this reaction from the demon commander. Obviously Grakk’n was smarter than the dwarves—or the Core itself—had estimated. The Core had relied on being able to fix up broken units and get them back into the battlefield, and on creating more zombies from the bodies of demons slain in battle. Now, Grakk’n was changing the game by removing these valuable resources. While the Core had access to a number of factories, stores and workshops throughout the city, raw materials for manufacturing new weapons were starting to run low … and if Grakk’n applied his new ideas about restricting their availability, defending Karak-Drang would become a lot more difficult.
Still, while it was a stumbling block, this wasn’t necessarily something that would completely cripple the Core’s ability to fend off the demons. Already it was experimenting with completely different weapons, and novel ideas on how to turn everyday objects—objects that were plentiful in the city, and not items that anyone would really think to weaponize—into potent devices to kill enemies.
Inside the inner section of the Factory Core, it still had a decent store of snow, retrieved from the tops of the Smoky Mountains. The Core had not forgotten how effective cold was against the creatures from the Infernal Realm; the geckos’ enhanced crossbow bolts had turned many a demon to ice in the battles fought both inside and outside the city walls.
The problem was, though, that bolts, even with the mechanically-reloading semi-automatic crossbows that the Core had designed, were not the most efficient ammunition to use cold-enchanted magic on.
The Core’s super-mind was certain that a far more effective use could be made of cold magic, something that could take masses of demons out with one shot, rather than one at a time, as was the case with the crossbows.
In a similar vein, the zombie demons the Core had created were effective at fighting the warriors when massed, but they too were perhaps not the best use of gems and machine parts, the Core’s super-mind was now thinking. Yes, they may have been good at trapping pockets of demons between them, and crushing the invaders … but this technology should allow to do much more than that.
And the Core had just the idea of how to combine cold magic with its “resurrection” technique.
Lying on one of the Factory Core’s experimentation tables, waiting to be dissected and experimented on, was a corpse. But not that of a demon warrior. No, this was a much rarer corpse: that of a wraith.
Wraith bodies were very peculiar, for wraiths were not purely organic beings, like demons were. These cadavers were more than half ether and ectoplasm—spiritual matter, like that from which ghosts were made. There was an organic component, yes, but it was like a dry, withered husk of a human corpse, a mere shell to which the ether and ectoplasm bound itself to give the ugly thing life.
After killing a wraith, the ectoplasm that animated it would usually evaporate, leaving behind just a cloak and a skeletal hull of what looked like a withered human corpse. These remains would turn to dust in a few hours without the ectoplasm to bind them.
The Factory Core, however, had discovered a way to trap these spiritual residues, by slaying wraith with an enchanted weapon one of its spiders had discovered in its thorough search of Ancient Karak’s catacombs. This magic sword, once the prized possession of a great wizard, had ended up as part of the hidden treasure of the dead emperor. And once the Core had discovered just what it was that the magic sword was able to do, it had promptly sent a mechanical spider on a mission to kill a wraith with it, and bring the corpse back.
Now the wraith’s corpse—which still had the glowing emerald ectoplasm and ether attached to the withered husk of a skeleton beneath—lay on the Factory Core’s table. To figure out how the wraith blasted its jets of evil green fire from its fingertips, the Core began to cut it apart, opening the skull of the creature and paying close attention to its brain.
Like the rest of the wraith, the nervous system was kept alive by the ectoplasm and ether, and without these crucial substances, it would have turned quickly to dust, too. Unlike the rest of the wraith, however, the brain was the one part of the thing that wasn’t withered and rotten. The Core noted that the part of the cerebrum associated in humans with the ability to cast magic and absorb mana was particularly developed. Almost as strongly as that section of a true wizard’s brain. The core knew this from studying textbooks about anatomy that Bomfrey and the others had left behind.
Also, the Factory Core had recently begun experimenting with something that the dwarves had done rudimentary research into, but had not really made any huge progress with: electricity.
While the dwarves seemed to have a very crude understanding that, somehow, electrical signals were important in living bodies, they had not been able to do much actual research on the matter, largely due to the prohibition on necromancy, and anything that might be associated with it—like dissecting corpses.
Fortunately, the Factory Core was operating under no such restrictions, and as such, its super-mind had come to learn that charges of electrical current, applied to certain areas of the brain, or directly to muscles, could cause those muscles to contract, or, if applied to the brain, could cause whole limbs to act.
The Core’s super-mind had become fascinated with electricity for some time now, in fact, and desperately wished to research more into this amazing phenomenon. The Core believed it could create immensely powerful weapons by scaling up the ways in which it produced that elusive energy … but right now it had to work on defending the city, and could not devote the resources it needed to expand its testing program.
That said, at this very moment, it was applying small charges of electricity to the areas of the dead wraith’s brain that controlled the creature’s magical abilities. Using magnets and wires, the super-mind of the Factory Core had been able to create a simple dynamo, and now, when it wired up the little dynamo to the wraith’s cerebral matter, interesting things were beginning to happen.
When one spot in particular was excited, the Core was pleased to see a tingle of evil green fire glowing on the dead wraith’s fingertips. Now, this fire—while extremely potent against dwarves, humans, elves, cave trolls and other such races—was not a particularly powerful weapon to use against demons, who were quite resistant to heat and fire.
The Core, however, had a plan. It sli
ced open the wraith’s emaciated arms, with their bone-white, withered-looking flesh, and examined the main nerves that ran from the stem to the creature’s fingertips, looking closely at the connections between all of them. It noticed, with interest, that in the wraith’s wrists there was a small gland that looked strangely similar to one it had seen in detailed anatomical diagrams of dragons’ throats … the gland that produced fire.
Again the Core sent a small electrical charge through the magic-associated area of the wraith’s brain, and while it saw the monster’s fingertips light up with green fire, it also noted this mysterious gland glowing bright green. Now the Core knew for certain that this specific organ was what produced the fire.
The Factory Core paused its experiment here to fetch a small scrap of iron. (Iron, a simple metal, was one of the best for holding enchantments when they were bound to it.) Using a magnifying lens and a tiny engraving blade, the Core etched runes for ice magic into the iron shaving, and then, using the snow it was keeping, it enchanted the iron with cold magic.
Next, the Core inserted the cold magic-enhanced iron shaving into the fire gland in the wraith’s wrist. There was a hissing sound, like a red-hot blade from a blacksmith’s forge being stuck into a bucket of cold water to cool down, and then the wraith’s fire gland turned from green to a bright blue.
The Factory Core was pleased, but it did not celebrate just yet. It had to test out this new development before it could declare its experiment to be a success. Placing a thick steel plate a couple of feet in front of the wraith’s outstretched fingertips to use as a shield and testing target, the Factory Core wound up the dynamo to produce a stronger charge of electricity—one that would actually cause a torrent of fire to blast out of the wraith’s fingertips. Well, not fire per se, not now that the gland in the creature’s hand had been altered … or so the Factory Core hoped. It would soon find out, in any case.
Without wasting any more time in conjectures, the Factory Core zapped a powerful charge into the brain. Immediately, the wraith’s fingers burned bright blue, and two torrents of intensely cold ice energy blasted out from the creature’s hands. The cold was so potent that it froze the thick steel plate solid in a second or two, and the steel shattered into hundreds of little shards.
Finally, the Factory Core allowed itself to feel a surge of jubilation. Now it had managed to create a weapon which, unlike its muskets and crossbows, could strike down dozens of demons at a time.
It was not finished though, not yet … for there was another application the Factory Core hoped to utilize this new ice magic for. It cleaned away the shards of frozen steel, and in the mechanical arms in front of the dead wraith’s hands, it placed one of the pieces of dragon bone armor its spider had retrieved from the tomb of Emperor B’aaktuk.
Dragon bone armor was impervious to many things. But dragons, like demons, were known to have weaknesses to cold. The Factory Core thought about the demon commander, Grakk’n, and his seemingly impenetrable suit of armor.
Perhaps, thought the Factory Core as it prepared another charge of electricity, the boastful commander was not quite as invincible as he thought he was in that armor. No, perhaps he had a weakness too. A weakness that the Factory Core believed it was about to discover.
CHAPTER 35
“Randor,” said Bomfrey, “I know that keeping your true identity is of the utmost importance to you.”
“Yes, yes it most certainly is!” said Randor almost forcefully. “Nobody can find out about who I really am. To the men of this city, I am simply an old cobbler. And I want it to stay that way until I have fully recovered. Indeed, it must stay that way until my powers are restored. If anyone were to reveal my true identity, not only would I be in great danger, but also the secret network of my fellow wizards, who are scattered throughout the world, and who are also regaining their strength in secret … it could bring great danger to all of us.”
“And we two mean to keep it that way, of course,” said Bomfrey hastily, shooting a quick glance at Akzad, who nodded in agreement. “But we must inform our king of what is happening in Karak-Drang. And the only way we can convince him we are telling the truth about how things are going there is to show him what we can see through your Seeing Crystal.”
Randor frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “But that would mean bringing him here, to my house! And telling him who I really am!”
“It would, yes,” said Bomfrey. “And it is not a request I would ask of you lightly, without considering the consequences. But you must understand, Randor, that this is our ruler. It is to him we owe loyalty first and foremost. And he deserves, more than any other dwarf, to know what is taking place in his kingdom.”
The frown remained set on Randor’s face, and he shook his head slowly, looking displeased about the whole proposition. “I understand why you’d want to have your king here, master dwarf,” he said, “believe me, I do. Were I in your shoes, why, I’d probably ask the same thing. The problem is … I’m sure you know the old saying about secrets. ‘When one knows, it’s only half safe. When two know, it’s as good as told. When three know … the world knows.’
“Already you two know about my true identity, and I believe you haven’t told anyone yet … but if your king finds out who I am, what’s to stop him telling everyone that the wizard Randor, long believed dead, is actually alive and well, living disguised as an old cobbler in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Merador? How can I know that my secret will be safe with him?”
“I have known King Odok-Kram my whole life,” said Bomfrey, “from the time he was but a child. And he and I have been close ever since. I am one of his most trusted advisors. And, unlike some, he has great respect and reverence for wizards. He knows of your history, and how you wizards helped win the First Great War against the Dark Lord, even though you all paid a great price for it … and are still recovering from it.”
“A great price we paid indeed to keep the world safe,” muttered Randor with a sigh. “One that I am still paying, with my powers being as diminished as they are.”
“Once again, we understand your need for secrecy, we really do,” said Bomfrey. “But please, allow us to show our king what the Factory Core is doing. We had to do a great deal of convincing to get him to allow us to give the Factory Core the freedom it needed to fight the Demon Horde to the best of its ability. He is still wondering whether he made the right decision with regard to that. We need to prove to him that he did, to give him the strength to face his people—our people—with pride, and to show the naysayers, like that damn General Khazum, that we and the king acted in the best interest of our people, of our civilization. Please Randor … please allow us to bring the king here. We will make sure that he visits under the greatest secrecy, and that he promises on the bones of his venerated ancestors not to breathe a word to another living soul about your true identity.”
Randor leaned back in his chair and let out a long, slow sigh, and then shook his head. “I hope that I am not jeopardizing my fellow wizards and myself by doing this,” he said, “but … all right, master dwarf. You can take your king here, as long as he swears on everything dear to him to never reveal my real name to anyone.”
Both Bomfrey and Akzad beamed out broad smiles at the wizard. “Thank you Randor, thank you!” said Bomfrey. “We assure you, your secret will be safe with our king. As safe as it is with us. Not a soul will know … not a single soul.”
Late that evening, well after midnight, the dwarves returned to Randor’s cottage. But this time, there were three of them. King Odok-Kram had come along after Bomfrey and Akzad had told him about Randor and the Seeing Stone, and the ability to use it to check what was happening with the Factory Core in Karak-Drang.
The king was excited, both about seeing how the Factory Core was fighting the Demon Horde, and about meeting a wizard. The three of them walked through the dark streets with hooded cloaks covering their faces. This time, they felt a lot safer than the first t
ime, for Randor was shadowing them, and watching over them in case of trouble—something that Akzad and Bomfrey were aware of, but not King Odok-Kram. Thus, when they finally reached Randor’s house, and the king knocked on the front door, he was quite surprised to see the wizard come strolling up behind them from the alley.
“King Odok-Kram of the Below World,” said Randor with a smile, sweeping his arm across his body in a standing bow to the dwarven king. “It is an honor to have royalty visiting my humble abode. Please, go in. The door is unlocked.”
King Odok-Kram surprised everyone by getting down on one knee in front of Randor, and bowing down low to the wizard. “It is I who should be bowing to you, Randor,” said the king, still on his knees. “The sacrifices you wizards made when fighting the Dark Lord … The world owes you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. The Above World and the Below World … I know that well enough. It is true that there are some dwarves who do not give wizards the respect you sorely deserve, but I assure you, I am not one of those.”
Randor smiled warmly at the king. “Please stand, master dwarf,” he said. “There is no need for you to bow to me. It is true that my brother wizards and I paid a great and terrible price when we stood against the Dark Lord, but that war was fought against orcs, goblins and wraiths under his command. Now, it seems, the Dark Lord is commanding an army of demons from the Infernal Realm. And from everything I have witnessed, the Demon Horde poses just as great a threat to our world as the Dark Lord’s previous army once did. Only this time,” he continued, his face darkening, “my powers and those of my fellow wizards are greatly diminished, compared to how they once were. I do not know if we have the strength to face these fiends from the Infernal Realm, should they break through to the Above World. I am praying—as I am sure you are—that this incredible machine of yours is able to keep the Demon Horde from doing that. If this machine fails … a darkness will fall over all the world, one that we may be powerless to fight against.”
Factory Core Page 17
