The Dragon Knight and the Steam World

by D. C. Clemens

  A still drowsy Norman sighed. “Aie! To live in a world filled with magic and few ghouls! And for it to be so close!”

  “Don’t actively bum us out,” said Felicia. “We can do that quietly to ourselves, like always.”

  Lucas, now wearing a heavy blue coat, returned a couple of minutes later. He led me and those who decided to tag along up to the chilled top deck. Moonlight unobstructed by clouds greatly supplemented the unnatural light already provided by the ship and city. Not far behind us, the doctor came up holding a new tray with metal cubes on it. She went and set the tray down on the same spot as the first one.

  “What’s your prediction for what your black fire will do to these samples?” the doctor asked me.

  “I’m not too certain. My black dragon fire tends to do better against wards than solid objects.”

  “Wards?”

  “Um, barriers mostly made of prana.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember reading about such spells existing. It was prana mixing and crystalizing with an element, correct?”

  “I’ve never trained in them myself, so the process is not familiar to me.”

  “I see. Well, let’s stick with something you have trained in. Please weave your fire spell when you’re ready.”

  Like before, I summoned a dragon stone. Not trusting my corruption to ignite the stone without some ramification to my hand, I set the medium down on the tray. Bringing a trickle of my corrupted soul to the forefront, a shadow darker than the current night obscured the stone. If it were not for the spurt of hissing, steaming heat coming from it, no one may have even noticed the fiendish flame enveloping the tray. Indeed, compared to my regular dragon flame, this one randomly released blistering pulses of air I could not rein in. As long as one stood far enough away, the heat waves actually felt nice in the cold.

  As for the cubes, they resisted this mutable heat better than the pure dragon fire. They began to glow red, helping to give the lambent blackness a stronger silhouette. Some of the cubes jeered and splintered as the rock dissolved. The softer metals were liquefying, but the hardier ones needed a reinforcement of prana to the blaze, which I tried to spin in an effort to sneak in some training. This had the consequence of making those hot tides less than pleasant for anyone close by. Inma took two steps back and used a hand to block part of her face.

  It became clear after a minute that the last two cubes were not going to do anything more than soften and glow reddish white. Leaving the other cubes as bubbling puddles, I rose the black flame over our heads. In a final outburst to settle my corruption for the day, I stretched the round combustion into a long torrent that lasted for several moments.

  After letting the foul flame starve, the doctor said, “Not quite the power of your original fire, but it certainly leaves a different kind of impression.”

  “It certainly scares the weaker ghouls away,” said Felicia. “Even if we never let him fight, it’s worth keeping him around just for that.”

  “As much as people like Bregman won’t like it, we’re gonna have to let him fight, right?” asked Xavier.

  “I don’t think he or his brother really need our permission,” said the doctor. “Now then, time we head back down. Not all of us can generate our own incinerator. Lucas, do I still have leftovers in the icebox?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Have you eaten, Sir Eberwolf? I’d like you to try my clam chowder. Most people like it, especially in the cold.”

  “I could go for some food.”

  “Lucas, go heat it up and bring it to the mess hall.”

  I was eating a chunky, gurgling white soup in a few minutes. There wasn’t enough for everyone except me, Lucas, and the doctor, so the others made do with a wet, brown meat they ate straight out of a heated metal can. Curious, I tasted a spoonful out of Xavier’s share. I greatly preferred the chowder, and I merely found the soup passable. Something about both foods did quite agree with my stomach, but I kept them down without trouble. Even less palatable was something they called “grog,” which had become a broad term for any drink that mixed water, warm rum, and other splashes of alcoholic drinks they had available.

  As we finished our meals, Xavier asked, “So, is there someone special back home? I wager being a dragon knight has every single girl lining up at your door.”

  “I’d need a door of my own for that.”

  “You shouldn’t pry in personal matters,” said Inma. “At least wait until the conversation can be private.”

  “It’s fine, really,” I said. “I’ve handled worse manners with ease. I can say my immediate priorities tend not to involve suitors. For instance, right now I’m a semi-prisoner in another world ruled mostly by fiends. Not exactly a time to pursue an admirer.”

  “I say it’s the perfect time,” said Xavier. “Never know when it might be your last day to enjoy the few nice things about being alive. Just gotta find the gal who doesn’t mind you’re part ghoul.”

  “He wouldn’t have to hide it around turncoats,” said Felicia. “They’d absolutely fawn over someone who can control their curse.”

  “If I’m assuming correctly, these ‘turncoats’ are those who want fiends to spread everywhere?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Any of these turncoats beautiful women?”

  “I’ve never seen one.”

  “Then I’ll stick with people who haven’t betrayed their own kind… for now.”

  “I’d be careful how you joke,” said the doctor. “Iker is not the only one who is and will be wary of you.”

  “Who’s Iker?”

  “Iker Bregman,” answered Xavier. “I’ll admit, if I didn’t see the dragon, I’d probably have set up my tent in his camp.”

  “Yeah, it wouldn’t have been too good for you or your brother without the dragon,” said Felicia.

  “And that sentiment pretty much summarizes my life,” I said.

  As the day wore on, I wandered from the mess hall, to the top deck, to that room with the darts, and the krewen sleeping quarters. I wasn’t allowed to enter the areas that had anything to do with weapons or getting the Orkan moving. Both the sailors and Vanguard almost always had a duty to attend to. A metal vessel appeared to need as much maintenance and cleaning as a wooden one, and whether or not strangers were on board, guards kept their eyes on the comings and goings of everyone who passed into the engine, equipment, and weapon rooms.

  Absent worthier company, the disgruntled Alex stayed by my side when not alone in the sleeping quarters. At one point, sometime during the second morning at port, he and I were about to switch places as an occupant in the hanging bed, except he stopped me from heading out when he said, “How nice are you willing to be?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t act stupid. You know what I’m talking about. They aren’t just going to give us all we need, you know. Vlimphite sounds rarer here than it is in Orda, and no one is going to give a couple fiends the freedom to do what they want, even if one of them has a dragon.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Then? Shouldn’t we get out of here? Meet up with people who don’t have to answer to anyone else? Who will give us guns and show us how to use them?”

  “Once these people demonstrate their unwillingness to help us, then we leave. All I see is them acting cautious. We can afford to be a little patient with these Vanguard people for a few weeks. Besides, we leave now and they’ll spread the word of our erratic behavior, and who knows how many of their leaders will take that poorly. Best we humor them for now. Can you contain your urge to fight awhile longer?”

  “I’m not looking for a fight. I just don’t shy away from one.”

  “Then it should be a simple matter to play nice. No one has given us a reason to flee or fight, so we don’t. Simple.”

  “I’m only making sure you’re not going to get too comfortable here.”

  “Do you jest? Just because I’m not impatient and fidgeting my limbs doesn’t mean I like it here. E
ven my dreams aren’t comfortable here.” Ever so slightly, his eyebrows rose as his eyes widened. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just my dreams haven’t been delightful lately either.”

  “In what way?”

  “I don’t know. It’s more of a mood thing. I’ve never been one to remember my dreams. Anyway, I figure it’s the food or something.”

  “Aye, maybe… Well, try not to let bad moods seep into the waking world. And let me know if the dreams ever get weirder. They could mean something beyond the strange food and air.”

  A few hours later put me in the mess hall. I spoke with the doctor and a few others concerning our respective world history. For instance, I learned it was in the krewen population where the shared tongue had been the foremost language the longest. The shared tongue eventually replaced the old Degosal dialect as the most widespread option among the doctor’s ancestors, particularly after the more traditionalist humans inhabiting the Wyncour islands became overrun by war, famine, and fiends. However, the written form of the shared tongue differed from Orda’s, making reading impossible for me here.

  In the middle of our conversation, Major Holson and Vice Admiral Abellan entered the room. This caused everyone but the doctor and I to stand and put the fingertips of their right hand to the corner of their eyebrow, palm facing down. Nico saying “At ease” and gesturing with his hand permitted them to relax and sit back down. He went to stand behind the doctor, who sat in front of me.

  “Has someone figured out what to do with me?” I asked.

  “To a point,” replied Nico. “We realized simply sending you to kill mindless ghouls on a forfeited island isn’t exactly testing your possible ties to their cause. What we want is for you to fight turncoats directly. There are assorted groups of them which hide in remote places to the north. They often entrench and ally themselves with the most despicable sects of outlaws. Now, we don’t expect for you to weed them all out, but, at minimum, we do expect for you to provide the latest intel regarding their activity in the region. If the information is good, Major Holson is ordered to lead an offensive against any turncoat camps you find.”

  “Ah, so in the assumption that I’m one of them, you’re using me to go after my own kind, to see if I hesitate.”

  “You’re in the right neighborhood. We also desire to evaluate the reconnaissance ability of a dragon knight. If nothing else, your partner should give the hard-bitten criminals a good fright.”

  “He can definitely do that. All right, it’s basically a bandit hunt you’re sending me on. That doesn’t sound too problematic. However, before I do anything for you, what can you tell me about vlimphite?”

  “Nothing too substantial, I’m afraid. There are a handful of mines in the middle of Dretkeshna, which provide most of our supply, though not many people know what to do with it. We know it can store a bit of magic, but even those who can weave a spell seem to use it as jewelry rather than a magic reserve.”

  “Then they won’t mind if I take some pieces for myself.”

  “It’s still a rare, expensive mineral. Any self-respecting socialite will ask a high price for their status symbol.”

  “I suppose they will… Is there a pecuniary reward for taking care of those turncoats and criminals?”

  “Your reward will be earning our trust. And even if I wanted to, the Vanguard never have a pile of cash to give away. So, is earning our trust good enough for you?”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  “Glad to hear it. Major Holson, you have your orders. Happy hunting.”

  As the major watched his superior walk away, I asked him, “Not a common mission, I take it.”

  Turning to face me, he replied, “Not an easy one. Like the vice admiral said, turncoats often ally themselves with the worst of the worst, and most of the time they don’t reveal their allegiance to ghouls, so they’re hard to tell apart from your basic ruffian.”

  “Then how will we know we tracked down turncoats?”

  “Shoot everyone who resists and search their camp later,” said Felicia. “You’ll find some kind of trinket or letter that identifies them as traitors.”

  “Do you mind writing some damning letters for me?”

  “You joke,” began the major, “but planting fake evidence has caused problems for people in the past, if not currently. I hope you’re joking, at least.”

  “Sure. Let’s say I was. When do we go?”

  “Everyone should return by tonight. We’ll head out as soon as the last member of my team steps aboard.”

  “And where are we going, exactly?”

  “A town near the Rutted Mountains, though it’s more of a jagged field of boulders than a mountain range. Won’t take much longer than a day to reach.”

  “Won’t criminals with working eyes see a Vanguard ship coming? Won’t they merely wait you out in their holes?”

  “The Orkan will stay well offshore, and we’ll use smaller boats to go ashore.”

  “And since our distinctive armor isn’t really for bullets,” began Svren, “we won’t have to wear them as we do our research. We’ll blend in fine.”

  “We’ll blend in,” emphasized Felicia. “The possessed brothers might stick out a tad too much. Unless they’re sick or freezing to death, I’ve never seen someone with skin as light as theirs.”

  “Then if anyone asks, we are sick,” I said. “I can pretend to cough once or twice.”

  “I’m certain you can figure out a plausible fib,” said Eric. “In the meantime, the vice admiral dropped off two new transfers. Keep an eye out for them and make them feel welcome by giving them all the work you don’t want to do.”

  “That was fast,” said Xavier. “Guess they really want to make sure we got a full complement with a dragon knight on board.”

  “Yes, now I feel truly outnumbered,” I said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Those new transfers had not been informed about me and my brother until they were brought on board. Of course, despite being told by their comrades about the dragon they saw, it would probably take seeing the beast themselves before they wiped the dubious expressions off their faces. I was asked not to summon my partner while in sight of the city, so dubious they remained.

  The last crewmember returned a couple of hours before nightfall, prompting the clamorous engine to rumble the ship along the water. I was becoming restless without the chance to spar or hone my spellcasting. A bit of a reprieve came when Xavier proposed an arm wrestling contest against me. He started off strong, and I suspected he intuitively used sputtering bursts of his prana, but helping to confirm the theory that the soldiers here possessed less awareness on how to use their soul’s power, I easily bested him after merely waiting for his prana to give out.

  Others got into the contest amongst themselves. Since he lounged in the mess hall with us, I expected Alex to attest his own strength by challenging me, but perhaps not wanting to risk losing in front of everyone, he refrained. The twins also abstained from arm wrestling, but Felicia did start a knife game between herself and another of her comrades that attracted attention. It involved stabbing the area between splayed fingers as fast as one dared without drawing blood. Her rival moved his dull blade a little faster than her toward the end, but the increased speed got his pinky nicked. A similar outcome occurred with her next competitor.

  Taking her defeated challenger’s seat, I asked Felicia, “Am I allowed to try this?”

  “From what I’ve seen, you with a knife is not the image that will make me panic.”

  I picked up the knife left behind and twirled it around my fingers.

  She mimicked the move with her brass handle blade. “Ever play this game back in Orda?”

  “I think I’ve seen a form of it being played, but the knife game I like is the one where you flick it up in the air and try to catch it before it hits the ground. First one to get cut loses.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  “Aye, which is why I don’t play it unless t
here’s bad weather or I’m on a rocking ship, though I see it more as a warmup to training than playing.”

  “A warmup, huh? I would think a ghoul-free world with magic doing everything for people would soften everyone up.”

  “Funny, I would think everyone fighting with guns and letting a machine sail for you would do the same thing.”

  “He’s taunting us, sis!” said Isabel. “Hurry up and beat him!”

  In response, her sister put her left palm on the table and spread her fingers. She told me, “First two passes are only to get into rhythm. Take it as slow as you want, but then we try to beat each other’s speed. If you bleed or can’t keep up with the faster stabber, you lose. Got it?”

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Aaaaand go!” said Isabel.

  Our knives thumped the table at the same time. From then on I only heard Felicia’s frenetic stabbing as I concentrated on not cutting myself. When she sped up, so did I. While the pattern required little thought, the actual movement from one space to another proved awkward. The knife sometimes dug in on one of the many tiny gashes or it slipped on the table, slowing me down or forcing me to haul it at an odd angle. Anyway, from the sound of it, I did well to keep up with my opponent.

  Ultimately, my inexperience showed up when I could no longer keep track of my blurred hand. The blade’s tip sliced the side of my middle finger’s knuckle. The mark of blood incited a round of cheering and clapping.

  “That didn’t even look real!” said Xavier. “I blinked and my eyes lost sight of your hands.”

  Stretching her arm, Felicia said, “It’s settled, then. People from Dretkeshna are better than people from Orda.”

  “Aye, no other contest needed,” I said. I flipped my knife up and caught its wooden handle between two fingers to prevent its tip from hitting the table. “I need to get back there and break the bad news to everyone.”

  “No!” said Isabel. “We have to play more games! What about a drinking one?”

  “I’ll admit defeat on that already. Drinking isn’t my thing.”