Vesik Series Boxset Book 3

by Eric Asher

  He eyed each in quick succession, tossing those he was satisfied with into the pool of water at the edge of the circle. Angry bursts of steam shot into the air when the projectiles hit. Others he dropped into the crucible once more, giving the contents a quick spin before repeating the process over and over.

  The last of the bullets splashed into the water, and he looked up. The black horns on his forehead curled inward, and the nauseating ripple of movement that had borne them reversed. Blackened red flesh dulled, replaced by the hair and scarred skin of a middle-aged blacksmith.

  Mike frowned at the work laid out before him. “Not the cleanest, but it is done.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The war hammer shrank and once more took on the humble form of a blacksmith’s hammer. Mike slid the tool back into a leather belt loop at his waist, at which point I noticed a spark out the corner of my eye. I turned slightly to my right and realized there were dozens of sparks stretching across the glistening dome of the circle shield.

  “Mike,” I said, “I think we might have a bit of a mess.”

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked.

  “Look at the shield.” I gestured with my free hand. “There are tiny shards stuck all across it. I count maybe a dozen at a glance.”

  Aideen flashed into her larger size, the strange light that omitted no luminescence engulfing her for a split second. She stepped closer to me, and followed my line of sight. “I see them. There are more than a dozen. Slivers yes, but there are many.”

  I looked down at Graybeard, where he sat with his arms crossed and his head resting against the wall. The parrot danced back and forth across his shoulder, squawking.

  “See,” I said. “That’s quite a mess we have for you there.”

  “And you’ll be wanting me to clean it up?” The parrot cocked its head to the side.

  “We don’t need you to clean up,” Aideen said. “We need you to walk the area. Your presence should cause the fragments of stone dagger to light up. It’s attracted to you.”

  Graybeard grunted and glanced up at the green and black snout on the ramp above him. “You have some mighty fine pups, lass. Grant me a favor, and we have an accord.”

  “What?” I snapped. “How about I don’t feed you to the next harbinger we meet?”

  Graybeard harrumphed. “You’ve shown your hand one too many times,” he said. “You have not a sadistic bone in that body.”

  “I will consider it a favor you have done for me,” Aideen said. “I’ll not grant you a favor of your choosing, but I will aid you if it is within my power and does not harm me or my allies.”

  “Come on,” I said. “He was going to help us anyway.” I frowned down at the bird.

  Its golden eyes looked up and it clucked at me. “You can’t blame a dead man for asking a favor. Have some respect for your elders.”

  “Oh, Christ,” I muttered. “Now you sound like Zola.”

  Mike stalked the perimeter of the circle, stopping before each of the sparking shards embedded in the shield. “These are all iron.” He stopped and frowned at a particularly large shard. “Some of these are iron with flecks of Magrasnetto.”

  Aideen looked around the floor and grimaced. “We must be thorough. Graybeard, walk toward the edge of the ramp. We will see if the metal reacts to your presence, or if it needs persuading.”

  The parrot grunted as the skeleton raised itself onto its feet. “Last time I needed to persuade someone, used a short plank in some bad water. You know the kind?”

  “Sharks? I asked.

  “Too fast,” Graybeard said. “Feed them to a Leviathan if you want fast. Drop them into a school of jellyfish? Now that’s a show.” The beard shifted on the skeleton’s face, and I had a little doubt if there had been flesh beneath it, it would have been smiling.

  * * *

  Thankfully, our cleanup project didn’t require any persuading. Graybeard’s presence within about a foot and a half of the stone dagger shards caused them to glow with a brilliant blue light. Mike followed Graybeard around the room, holding a stone lump over each of the shining spots, while Aideen waited at the top of the ramp. While the shards of stone dagger might not have been an immediate threat, I didn’t want her close to any of the iron.

  “So that thing’s like a magnet?” I asked.

  Graybeard walked into a new section of the circle, and Mike bent down to pick up another shard.

  “That’s an apt description,” Mike said. “The stone was imbued with the power of the ley lines long ago. It attracts many enchanted metals, be they natural, or forged.”

  “Oh, wow,” Frank said, poking his head into the lair at the top of the ramp.

  Foster stepped in beside him, staying close to Aideen. “The outside of the shop lit up like a fireworks display,” he said. “It didn’t seem to be causing any noticeable output of power, though. At least nothing I could feel.”

  “What’s lighting up around the pirate?” Frank asked. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My charming personality,” Graybeard muttered.

  I smiled at the pirate. I gave Frank and Foster a rundown of what we were doing and chuckled as Foster ushered Aideen a few steps farther back from the entrance to the lair.

  That went on for another fifteen minutes or so, Mike following Graybeard around the room. They worked their way up the ramp, and Mike nodded. “I think that should do it for the stone dagger shards.”

  “And the iron?” I asked.

  “That’s not my specialty,” Mike said, a small smile on his lips. He spoke one word. One name. “Aeros.”

  The earth beneath our feet shook and rose until the sunken area around the forge grew flat and level once more. Aeros’s voice filled the room around us. “There is much iron left behind.”

  “Would you be so kind as to address that?” Mike asked.

  “Remove your weapons from the floor and I will do what was asked.”

  Mike did, scooping up the last of the stone-dagger-coated bullets as the pool of water vanished into the stone. He wrapped the swords and daggers in oiled leather cloth, swaddling them carefully, as if they were children to be coddled.

  A memory of Mike’s oath bubbled into my conscience. If any of these weapons were used to harm an innocent, Mike would die. It was an oath taken after the horrors he witnessed at the Battle of the Crater in the Civil War. The sight of his only love dying.

  “Mike,” I said. “Are you sure about this?”

  “A bit late to be asking that,” Mike said. “And don’t worry. Sarah and I had a long discussion about the risks of making weapons.”

  “But we watched you summon the fire for the forge. How can you be sure?”

  “There’s little in this world that I am sure of, Damian Vesik. The one thing I am sure of is that this world won’t survive if the queen of the water witches prevails.”

  “You sure?”

  “We’ve made our peace.”

  “Let’s be honest,” Foster said. “You could probably kill one of our water witch allies with one of those things, and not be any worse off. What really qualifies as an innocent life in regard to your oath?”

  “That is a question that I will not answer.”

  “Alright,” I said. “You’re welcome to come with us to deliver these to Park.”

  Mike shook his head. “I’m needed at the Obsidian Inn.” He drew one sword and one dagger from the stash before handing me the bundle and the satchel for bullets. “I won’t leave Sarah unarmed against the water witches. I hope that’s acceptable, for I have no intention of debating it.”

  I was somewhat taken aback at the finality in Mike’s words. They concerned me, not being able to deliver all the blades to Park, but if the Obsidian Inn was under siege from the water witches, it was conceivable they would need the blades even more.

  I nodded to the fire demon.

  Mike slid the blades beneath his thick leather belt. “I thank you.” He hesitated for a moment. “Aeros, take care of the iron.
I am done with the forge. Thank you, old friend.” A red wound opened in the air before Mike, and he stepped into that hellish vortex of flame.

  The floor moved, a stone hand rising from the rocky earth. Aeros’s arm swept around the room, coming up through the ramp, and nearly knocking me off my feet as he returned to the area that had been the forge. The hand hesitated before rising up the wall and vanishing into the stone once more. The wall beside me rippled, and a small iron ball slowly phased out of the stone.

  “That’s it?” I said.

  “Some people would be thankful for having their house cleared of such debris. And not only cleared but delivered in such a conveniently portable package.”

  I grinned at the wall. “Thanks, rock.

  “Would you mind discarding that?” Aideen asked. “I am sure Aeros could hide it deep within the earth.”

  “I would be happy to assist,” Aeros’s voice boomed.

  I held the iron ball against the stone, and it vanished into the solid rock.

  “Until next time,” Aeros said.

  I hefted the bag of coated shells in my left hand and said, “We need to get these to Park. Now.”

  “Park gave permission to give them to Casper,” Frank said. “You need her trust more than his.”

  “He outranks her,” Foster said. “I’m pretty sure it’s more important to have him on our side.”

  Frank shook his head. “You’re wrong. She’ll have more pull with the troops. They see one of their best marksmen making friends with the likes of us? With the likes of the Fae?” Frank nodded. “That’s more important. She spilled blood with them, had her own blood spilt with them. They trust her like family.”

  “Right then,” I said. “Probably shouldn’t walk in with swords and ammunition wrapped in a rag.”

  “I’ve got some old gun cases we can use,” Frank said. “They should hold everything but swords. And I don’t really know how much good a sword is going to do anyway, not in the hands of a modern soldier.”

  “There’s a great deal of tradition and honor in swords,” Aideen said. “Swords have been used as rewards and symbols of rank for centuries. The tradition repeated in many cultures. Do not underestimate what a simple gesture can accomplish.”

  Bubbles surged down the ramp, sniffing the walls and the corner where she and Peanut usually slept. It likely smelled a little different, now that Mike had lit the forge and perhaps felt different since Aeros had turned stones. Of course, I’d seen the cu siths fall asleep in the most uncomfortable of places before, and was sure they would adapt quickly.

  Frank unearthed the old gun case, a dented aluminum thing, from one of the overcrowded shelves in the junk cabinet. He was right. We were able to fit everything but the swords.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Park’s at the camp,” Frank said. “It’s not far from where we saw Drake.”

  I frowned. “I’m glad you were there to see Drake with us. Like a crazy Foster. Which is a lot more terrifying than I’d expected.” I shook my head. “Where is the base exactly?”

  Frank dusted off the old gun case while we waited in the back parking lot for Sam. “They set up in one of the fields just past Fast Lane.”

  “There aren’t any buildings in those fields,” I said, skirting a particularly sharp looking rock off to the edge of the parking lot.

  “Sam’s here,” Foster shouted, gliding down from the top of the building to land on my shoulder. A moment later, the blinding headlights of one of the Pit’s SUVs cut through the darkness.

  “Now I’m a deadbolt and I’m blind,” the being trapped in our door shouted.

  We all studiously ignored the complaints pouring out of our friendly neighborhood deadbolt.

  “Take the front,” I said, nodding to Frank. “These guys know you best.”

  I opened the back door and hopped in, expecting to find Zola, but she wasn’t there. Foster took up his standard perch on the dashboard, closer to Sam.

  “Where’s Zola?” I asked.

  “She’s in the archives with Vik,” Sam said. “They’re still looking for more details on the dark-touched. At least that’s her excuse for asking for help.”

  “Man,” Foster said, “If you can’t trust the intentions of an old necromancer, who can you trust?”

  Sam held out her hand and gave Foster a tiny high-five while they both laughed, and cast quick glances back at me.

  “You mind holding this?” Frank asked as he passed the old scabbard, which didn’t quite fit the sword, into the back seat.

  “Not at all.”

  I slid the sword part way out of the scabbard as Sam made a sharp turn and bounced us out onto the cobblestone street. As fast as Mike had worked to make the swords, they’d turned out beautifully. The addition of the shards of the stone dagger made the metal look something like Damascus steel—beautiful shades of color and waves of metal grains followed the addition from the tip of the sword to almost the center of the blade. I sheathed the sword and laid it on top of its brother.

  The drive took us to the old roundabout—well, actually, the new roundabout—and sent us off past the field where we had faced Drake and the Green Man. This time we crossed under the railroad and the highway until we reached the road with Fast Lane, an antique car dealership. I’d be lying if I said I’d never visited before.

  The orange glow of the sunset lit the horizon as we closed on the railroad tracks, cruising beneath the trestle.

  “Something’s off,” I said.

  The tornado sirens roared to life a moment later.

  “It’s barely sprinkling.”

  “It’s not for the tornado,” Foster said. “Don’t you remember? They’re using the tornado sirens as warning sirens.”

  “Something’s attacking the city,” Sam said.

  “Yeah,” Frank said as we crossed under the highway. He pointed toward the glowing ball that had nothing to do with a sunset.

  I stared in horrible fascination at what I could now clearly tell was an enormous fire.

  “That’s the camp,” Sam said. “Fucking hell, that’s the fucking camp.”

  Something flashed in the distance, just on the other side of Fast Lane, revealing an outline of what I suspected had been a tent shortly before. Now it was fire and ruin. Sam floored the accelerator, and we hurtled toward the raging battle.

  Soldiers and Fae sliced up from the river, closing on the camp in a half circle. Drake hovered above them, raining fire down on the unsuspecting soldiers. I wondered how many had died before they’d even realized they were under attack.

  Beneath Drake, waters raged and boiled. We were a good quarter-mile from the Missouri River. The water shouldn’t have been there.

  “The water witches are here,” I said.

  Sam jerked the wheel to the left, and the SUV’s tires screamed as we veered toward Fast Lane, cruising past the worst of the carnage on the front line.

  “They don’t have a chance,” Foster said. “Let me out. Let me out now.”

  “Take one of the swords,” I said. “Just don’t cut yourself with it.”

  Foster nodded.

  Sam squealed the tires as we darted into the smoking ruin of the base. The burned-out guardhouse wasn’t empty. The charred flesh of its poor occupant dangled out the window. I didn’t need to raise my sight to see the freshly dead aura weaving around the soldier.

  Sam slammed on the brakes, bringing us to a halt behind a row of soldiers who were managing to offer some resistance.

  “Go,” I said, tossing one of the stone-dagger-forged swords into the air. Foster zipped out the window, bursting into his full-sized form as he wrapped his gauntleted hand around the hilt.

  Sam and I pushed out the driver’s side while Frank popped out the passenger side, staying low to the ground as he joined us behind the SUV.

  Frank slid one of the daggers out of the case and hooked it into his belt. I gave the other sword to Sam and turned to Frank. “Get the case to Park. Or whoever’s left in c
harge.” Something huge roared at the edge of the battle, and a glance showed me a Green Man lumbering toward a guardsman who was armed with a flamethrower. “What in the hell are they doing here?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Frank said. “Just help them.” He turned to Sam. “I love you.”

  And he was gone. Sam bounced her right hand up and down, and I frowned at the bullets on her palm.

  “What the hell are you going to do with those?” I asked. “We don’t have a gun that can fire them, and they’re not even loaded into brass yet.”

  “I can throw them.”

  I blinked at my sister. She probably could throw them at a fast-enough velocity to do some serious damage to a water witch. I nodded. “Get some of them to Casper!” I shouted as I rushed toward the nearest group of soldiers, incredibly thankful that I had brought both my backpack and the focus on my hip.

  “Shit’s about to get a lot worse,” I said to the nearest soldier who wasn’t unloading an insane number of rounds down the field.

  “You’re that fucker who knows what the fuck all these fucks are?” He released a string of about fifteen more fucks before I finally got him to shut up.

  “Where’s Park? Where’s Casper? Are they still alive?”

  “Beats the hell out of me,” he shouted back. He pulled out a grenade, and screamed, “Fire in the hole!”

  I expected the detonation to be louder, but the sounds of gunfire and explosive incantations muffled everything around us. The grenade detonated, tearing a nearby fairy’s wings to pieces, and sending the owl knight to the ground.

  I saw Frank at the other end of the soldiers, shouting at them about the daggers he was handing them. I caught the last thing he said before he ran off between two of the tents that weren’t on fire. “Save it for the ones you can see through. Stab them with it. It’s the only thing you can stop them with.”

  One of the privates Frank had armed stepped in front of another who was frozen at the sight of the battle raging around him. He tossed a survival knife to the ground and slid Frank’s dagger awkwardly into the sheath at his hip before unleashing a hail of gunfire.