by Martha Carr
Ember slowly looked up at the halfling. “But I guess using it at all is a plus. Barely.”
Cheyenne turned away from the machine with a small smile and headed down the hall again. “You’ll get it down.”
“I’ve had this thing for twelve hours, Cheyenne. At the very least, I should be able to keep it from slamming into walls. That wasn’t an issue with the levitation spell.”
“Well, your magic and a piece of super-old-school tech are two totally different things. I’m honestly hesitant to check how out-of-date that activator is.”
“You wouldn’t have any problem with it.” Ember released her frustration and split her focus between keeping the crawler on a course toward the building’s main doors and holding a less-aggravated conversation. “Persh’al gave you an outdated activator the first time, didn’t he? You used it to do stuff he didn’t even know was possible.”
Cheyenne shot her friend a sidelong glance. “How do you know that?”
“Come on.” Ember returned the glance and smiled. “I’m part of this whole crazy-ass band of magical rebels now. When you’re off fighting a Sorren Gán or skipping through Hangivol with your mad ol’ dad, people talk.”
“About Persh’al and how much he hates what I can do with O’gúl tech?”
“Well, mostly about you.” Ember tried to keep a straight face, but a chuckle escaped her. “Persh’al might’ve mentioned it a few times before we made the crossing. A few being five, I think.”
Cheyenne ran a hand through her bone-white hair and shook her head. “I wouldn’t start comparing your ability to use the magitech with mine, Em.”
“Oooh. Magitech. I like it.”
The halfling playfully rolled her eyes. “Sounds good, yeah. But seriously. I highly doubt I’m the standard for what anyone can do with the activators and their magic synced up with the weird machines in this world. Or on Earth, apparently.”
“I’m not comparing myself to you.” Ember gave her friend an exaggeratedly formal bow of the head when Cheyenne pushed the heavy wooden door open and held it for her. One of the activator’s legs knocked against the doorway before correcting itself, and both girls held back stifled laughter. “That’s another exercise in futility, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne stepped into the wide stone street in the blue-gray light before dawn. “I’m a freak that way, I guess.”
“That’s one way to put it, I guess.” The girls oriented themselves toward the massive rise of Hirúl Breach’s front gates stretching high above the rest of the city. “Or we could go with the undeniable truth that you’re L’zar Verdys’ daughter. He’s a freak with ‘reading the threads,’ which I still don’t get. You’re a freak with reading lines of code and smashing it all together to do exactly what you want. Forget what being a whatever-you-are means in either world, Cheyenne. The freak part’s in your blood.”
With a wry chuckle, Cheyenne cocked her head in acknowledgment. Still have to skirt around calling me as a halfling over here. A bunch of raugs hiding out from the capital are even more likely than most to tear me apart if they knew. At least for now.
Already, the almost-techless haven’s raug citizens were moving slowly about the streets, groggily shaking their heads and shuffling across the stone to get to whatever duties their day required. A select few, those coming from the same direction as the halfling and her fae friend, cast Cheyenne wary, disapproving glances.
She stared right back at those who didn’t immediately look away in aggravation. I’m not the one who started that fight and woke up half the city, but something tells me they don’t give a shit.
They had to climb another set of stairs leading to the upper-level walkway inside the gates, which were slowly opening with a trembling groan and the creak and click of metal and stone gears moving against each other in the gate towers on either side. Cheyenne quickly scanned her side of the gate towers, but even with the activator, all she saw was stone and metal and a flicker of movement from the raug guards inside. They are as low-tech as it gets here. Manual gates and everything.
The rest of their party had already gathered in front of the gates. Lumil caught Cheyenne’s gaze and jerked her chin in greeting. “We were starting to wonder if you guys were even coming.”
“Who’s ‘we?’” Byrd folded his arms and cast the goblin woman a disapproving look. “I knew they were coming.”
“Oh, yeah. ‘Cause you’re always right.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m tellin’ you to speak for yourself, man. You can’t read my mind.”
Lumil slapped a green hand against her forehead, making her hair flutter around her face. “Because there’s nothing in there. I don’t have to read your mind to know that.”
Cheyenne ignored the goblins’ bickering, trying not to laugh when Corian raised an eyebrow at the green-skinned magicals and stepped away from them.
Cazerel straightened from stooping over one of the two black metal machines piled high with supplies, which were covered by thick canvas tarps stretched taut and hooked to iron loops on the machines’ sides. His orange eyes widened when he saw Ember and Cheyenne approach, and he spread his arms. “Healer! Now we can depart.”
“Looks like you already started,” Ember muttered as the gates stopped halfway open with a groan.
“It is a process.” The raug chief chuckled and thumped a fist against his muscular chest before gesturing toward the canyon beyond the gates. “I would not dream of leaving without you. Darkness descends on the fool who abandons his greatest gift.”
Ember and Cheyenne looked at each other in confusion. “Great. He thinks I’m a gift.”
“I think he’s talking about your healing skills, Em.”
“Those have been lost. What is left?”
“Come.” Cazerel nodded at the raug warriors awaiting his orders to move out. Then he glanced at L’zar, sitting two feet from where the gates rested when they were fully closed. The chief’s hairless brow furrowed, and his black tongue flickered over his razor-sharp teeth. “Before I change my mind.”
The warriors beside the supply machines swiped across the panels on the front of each contraption. The machines shuddered and wobbled as they lifted from the ground on only four legs, then the procession headed after Cazerel.
“Travel beside me for a time, Healer.” The chief waved Ember toward him and grinned, his yellowed teeth flashing in the first light of sunrise. “That would please me.”
“Great.” Ember shot Cheyenne a quick glance, then plastered a smile on her face. “Now I’m playing court jester to a raug chief.”
“Again, I think he’s talking about your skills, Em. Not the admittedly hilarious way that thing moves around.”
Shaking her head, Ember swiped the crawler’s panel and successfully made a straight run toward the raug chief. He laughed as she approached, nodding before turning to lead the way out of the canyon.
The warriors and their machines followed closely. Cheyenne studied L’zar, who was still sitting on the ground, his legs crossed beneath him as he swayed from side to side. His muttering voice rose softly, though the words were indecipherable.
Lumil shrugged and stalked off after the raug, Byrd close on her heels. Foltr gave the halfling a sharp nod and walked through the open gates, his staff clacking on the stone.
“L’zar.” Cheyenne stopped between her father and the nightstalkers, both of whom had changed back into their regular clothes. Corian and Maleshi gave her warning looks, but she ignored them. “Hey, we’re leaving.”
The drow didn’t respond.
“Awesome.” She raised an eyebrow at Maleshi and spread her arms. “He’s still drunk and unresponsive, huh?”
L’zar stopped swaying. “I’ve had centuries of practice fine-tuning my mental condition, thank you very much.” He pushed himself halfway to his feet, paused with a heavy sigh, then straightened all the way and moved with long strides after the rest of their party. He only stumbled twice before disappearing through the o
pen gate.
Corian rubbed his forehead and passed Cheyenne without a word.
“Fifteen minutes isn’t what I meant by ‘give him time,’ kid.” Maleshi gestured at the courtyard beyond the city and waited for Cheyenne to move after the others.
“What about the time it takes us to get to wherever the Crown’s kid is?” They walked out of the city together and quickly joined the rest of their group to bring up the rear. Corian kept at least three yards between himself and the stumbling L’zar. “If he doesn’t pull himself together by the time we get there, we might as well not even go.”
“He’ll be fine.” Maleshi straightened one of the pins on the left shoulder of her military jacket and nodded. “Right now, kid, we’re a bunch of magicals trekking through the mountains and hoping a certain other mad drow in Hangivol doesn’t get word of where we’re headed before we get there. Anything else is an unnecessary focus.”
“Oh, yeah? Including the very high possibility that L’zar’s officially insane now and might never come back from it?”
“Yeah, kid.” Maleshi stared straight ahead and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Even that.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Ow. Hey!” Byrd darted away from the large mechanical wagon on legs carrying their supplies. “You guys gotta work on the programming for this stuff, man. I’m not losing a foot to this thing and have to ride in it the rest of the way.” He glanced at Ember with a sheepish smile. “No offense.”
The fae girl shrugged. “I still have my feet.”
“If the old one thinks you’ll recover,” Cazerel said and looked quickly over his shoulder at Foltr, “I’m inclined to believe him. He led you to me, after all.”
Ember gave the raug chief a tight smile. “I’m trying to believe it too.”
“The crawler is yours to use for however long you need it, Healer. It is the least I can do.”
The walking metal cart beside Lumil struck an uneven patch of stone and lurched sideways into her, nearly knocking her over. The goblin woman snarled and slammed a fist into the side of the cart, which squeaked and instantly righted itself. “The least you could do, huh? What about putting these things together so they work? You know, get with the times and make some updates already.”
Beside her, one of Cazerel’s warriors rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Our tech works the way we prefer it to work,” the chief replied. “The new entanglement of magic and Hangivol’s updates? It goes against everything we believe, greenskin.”
“You don’t believe in tech?” Ember looked over her shoulder at Cheyenne, who shrugged and turned her attention to the chief again.
Can’t wait to hear how he explains that one.
“It is not a lack of belief in the technology, Healer.” Cazerel eyed the wobbly cart stepping up on his other side. “It is an aversion to what that technology makes of us when used the way most O’gúleesh have been using it for centuries.”
“Like, side effects?” Ember stared at the control panel of the crawler and briefly touched the cold metal of the outdated activator behind her ear. “I have enough of those to deal with.”
“Not for you, Healer. You did not need metal and code to restore my life.” The chief grinned down at her and nodded. “You are purely of your own magic, as it should be.”
“You’ve obviously been doing fine here on your own without the most recent updates,” Cheyenne muttered. Or updates from three thousand years ago, probably.
“Yes. We thrive in different ways.” Cazerel scanned the rising cliffs and jutting stone in front of them as he led them farther into the mountains. “Magic and technology can work together. We know this. To say it does not alleviate the heavier burdens for my kind would taint my words with lies, Healer. A chief who lies is not fit to be saved, even by one such as you.”
Corian’s ears twitched, and he turned toward a flock of small brown birds darting over the next ridge in front of them. “I assumed Hirúl Breach refused the updates to stand against the Crown or to stay hidden from her.”
Cazerel laughed mightily and slapped his belly. “We do not need faulty machines to stand against the Spider. But it helps, yes. These things should not rely on each other, vae shra’ni—magic and the machines that serve it. For most of this world, they are so intertwined that a magical has no mastery over their own abilities because they have given themselves over to the system, which is quietly weakening them day by day.”
Ember wrinkled her nose and tried not to look at her legs resting beneath the crawler’s control panel. “Like muscle atrophy.”
The chief smiled down at her. “Like a raug in his prime lying useless in his bed while the deathflame calls his name.”
“Or like building up a drug tolerance.” Cheyenne removed her activator and stuck the silver coil into the pocket of her trenchcoat. “Makes sense.”
Ember gave her friend a playful frown. “What do you know about drug tolerance? An elephant’s dose of morphine wouldn’t take you out.”
“Elephant?” Cazerel’s eyes widened.
Cheyenne tried to keep a straight face. Nobody knows Ember’s from Earth either. He’d change his tune really quick if he knew his Healer set foot on this side for the first time two days ago.
Ember caught her slip and shrugged. “A saying we picked up.”
“Whatever you mean, Healer, I have full faith in your knowledge. And drow are particularly difficult to understand, eh?” The chief chuckled and shook his head. “And prone to madness.”
“Hey, don’t lump us all in the same category.” Cheyenne looked back at L’zar, who stared at the ground as he followed the procession, his eyes wide and his jaw working. “I’m trying not to be prone to weakening my magic with an activator, if that’s even possible for drow.”
“That won’t be a problem, Aranél. Trust me.” Cazerel swept his beefy arm through the air, gesturing toward the range of mountains in front of them that still seemed far away. “Where we’re headed, there won’t be any high tech. Perhaps not even as low as these wobbling carriers.” His gray hand smacked down on the rim of the cart walking next to him. The machine staggered under the weight, then righted itself and continued unaffected. The warriors keeping their eyes on their supply machines sniggered.
“Not surprising.” Maleshi stepped around L’zar when the drow stopped suddenly in mid-stride and tilted his head back, closing his eyes against the morning sunlight. She glanced at Corian, who shook his head and continued past L’zar. “The world without high tech is expanding, isn’t it? Has been since the last Cycle turned.”
“It continues as we speak.” The raug chief grunted in disapproval. “I cannot say how far the Spider’s reach has extended while the Cu’ón endeavored to make his mark. In some ways, it has shortened more than I expected.”
“You mean the Outers, right?” Cheyenne stepped lightly over the loose chunks of rock in their path, warily avoiding the cargo machines as they staggered across the slippery shale. “Because that line’s been changing too.”
“More than any of us realize, I think.”
Cheyenne looked at Maleshi with raised eyebrows. The nightstalker woman pressed her lips together and looked at the mountain range. The skaxen village was just the beginning. Persh’al and I saw the dead land for ourselves, and now we’re following this raug chief with no idea what we’re getting into. Awesome.
* * *
The raug warriors barely spoke as the party climbed steep rock walls and slid into valleys, following Cazerel on his secret path toward a secret location. After the first two hours, Foltr climbed onto a supply cart and set his staff across his lap, grimacing at the ache in his legs. Ember had a good laugh, seeing the wizened old raug wobbling with the cart machine’s unsteady gait.
They stopped for a meal an hour after that. L’zar refused to stay with the rest of them, opting instead to stomp away and sit alone on a boulder beside the clearing in the jagged stone. He crossed his legs beneath him, closed hi
s eyes, and entered a much steadier meditation session than earlier that morning.
The warriors rummaged around in the supply carts and pulled out flat dark-gray rectangles of something edible wrapped in cloth. These were passed around quickly to the chief, Ember, Cheyenne, the goblins, and Foltr, who remained sitting on the supplies. No one asked the oldest magical among them to move aside.
Maleshi eyed the last two bricks of traveling food with a raised brow. The warrior closest to her unwrapped one of them from its cloth, sneered at her, and bit into it before chewing noisily. The other four warriors did the same, chuckling among themselves and stepping away from the carts to sit in a small group. They glared at the general with glowing eyes in various shades of orange and muttered to each other in French.
“Gah!” Byrd pulled his brick of chewy sustenance away from his face and scowled. “I tell you what, man. The original recipe might’ve started over here, but the guys across the—”
He grunted and wheezed when Lumil shot an elbow extra-hard into his gut. “We’re not talkin’ about that. Or the recipe, you moron. Just eat the damn bar.”
The goblin wrinkled his nose as he brought the magical energy bar up to his mouth again, rubbing his gut with the other hand. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have any taste buds left.”
“But my brain cells are all intact, dae’bruj.” Lumil snorted and ripped away a huge chunk of her bar with her teeth, nostrils flaring.
Cheyenne nibbled the sour yet earthy-tasting bar in her hand, feeling it slide a little beneath her fingers through the cloth. He’s right. At least the FRoE improved on the worst-tasting meal ever invented. She gazed around the clearing, ignoring the goblins muttering curses at each other and ducking angry, half-assed blows. Ember was a much paler shade of fae pink as she swallowed her bar and tried to focus on the story Cazerel was telling her about the first time he’d ventured this far northeast into the mountains.
