by John Mangold
“If you will not believe me, perhaps your new friends will be easier to convince!”
Before Maluem could shake herself from her surprised stupor, Volo had moved into the main floor of the cart, leaving a charred trail on the carriage’s planks as he progressed. The small plasma ball had vanished. However, the entrance of the flame apparition quickly provided all the illumination necessary. In its shimmering brilliance, Maluem could see the surprised terror in the eyes of Nia and both the Entwhistles. If this was her own spell, Maluem desperately wished she could figure out how to stop it.
“My name is Volo Jinn,” The figure boomed. “Repeat what I have just said!”
The group sat in stunned silence, their jaws slack as they gawked with eyes spread wide with fear. Shelia’s mouth moved furiously, but no intelligible words spilled forth.
“I said, repeat it!” The apparition boomed yet louder, its brilliance increasing tenfold as it spoke.
“Your name is Volo Jinn!” The group yelled in near unison.
“I say that I am alive. What say you?” The apparition demanded.
Now confusion was added to the look of fear on all three faces.
“Alive or dead, which am I?” Volo pressed, his height growing to the point that his flame-like hair caressed the high ceiling of the carriage, scorching the wood black.
“Alive, you’re alive!” Shelia screeched, squeezing her eyes shut from the horror before her.
The apparition shrank to human size in a split pulse, all fire and fury vanishing from its body. In its place stood Volo Jinn, just as he had appeared on that fateful day.
“There,” Volo exclaimed, his face a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion. “That settles that!”
In the next pulse, Volo vanished, leaving only his words to echo through the vast expanse. An inky blackness flowed in to take his place; the only illumination remaining came from a few burning bits of straw set alight by the being that had stood before them but a moment prior.
The silence that followed the display was almost suffocating. Maluem could swear she could hear each of her companion’s heartbeats as they sat in stunned stasis. As the silence dragged out, Maluem wanted to speak, but she could not conjure the words to do so. No explanation for what had just happened presented itself to her. She was not even sure she could convince herself that it actually occurred. All Maluem was sure of was that she had not been the source of that spectacle.
Furthermore, she could not imagine any of the other passengers could possibly have had enough knowledge of her past to have been responsible for such a performance. The only exception was Nia, and if she was privy to that amount of detail, Maluem was sure she would have confronted her with it long before now. However, the only solution left was still far too fantastic for even Maluem to believe.
“So Maluem,” Nia spoke out, shattering the tense silence. “Would you care to explain what the kulk just happened?”
12.
A Change of Conveyance
Maluem’s mind raced as she stood in the choking darkness. There was no getting around the spectacle that had just played out before them. She knew her fellow travelers wanted a great deal explained, but the tempest of questions raging through her own mind obscured all rational thought.
Who had created that elemental? Had she done it subconsciously? If so, why had the air not grown cold? Where was the accompanying strain of will and stamina? Not to mention, where had she learned that spell in the first place? Thermo-spells had never been her forte. There were so many possibilities and so very little time to explore them. Her audience sat waiting for her reply, and she could not settle her mind to create a rational explanation, at least not one that she would care for them to know.
The pulses dragged by as she strained to find a place to begin. She opened and closed her mouth time and time again as she discarded one explanation after another. Nothing seemed to suit the truth when she could no longer be sure what the facts were. If madness held her in its clutches, how could she discern reality from fantasy? The past and present seemed bound up within itself like a ball of twisted yarn, so hopelessly tangled that the beginning and end were indistinguishable from one another. Where to begin, where to begin…
As she opened her mouth to speak, the world around her came to a sudden halt. Maluem felt herself stumbling forward as the floor below her lurched backward unexpectedly, the darkened chamber filling with a tumult of grinding steel and clanging bells. As she struggled to correct herself, Maluem’s eyes began to adjust to the dark, allowing her to make out her companions' forms. From their movements, it was clear they were struggling to remain upright as well, although their efforts were more graceful as they were sitting at the time.
Well, at least I know this is no illusion. Maluem thought as she gripped the side of a crate to steady herself.
“Nia, what devilry is this?” Maluem blurted as she leaned hard against the structures behind her.
“The train is stopping,” Nia replied. “Kym must have ordered the Engine’s return. I figured he might guess we had jumped the rails, but I hoped it would take him a bit longer to pick the correct line. If we could have just made the first station-”
“What do you mean?” Maluem Interrupted. “How could Kym have contacted the driver when he is all the way back in Venustus? Did they use some form of sorcerous communication?”
“Sort of,” Torrez chimed in. “All trains are equipped with com-runes to connect them to the wheelhouses. However, he might have taken more direct control. Rail Engines typically have an Override Rune struck in their central controls, in case of a rogue train, or the like. The moment it is activated from the wheelhouse, the Rail Engine will shed all its current commands, come to a complete stop, and return to its last station. The feature was installed for safety precautions, but it is more often applied by law enforcement and the military.”
“That sounds the most likely,” interjected Nia. “With Maluem on board, he may have assumed we hijacked the rail. He would have moved to leave nothing to chance.”
“Why would it matter that Maluem is on board?” Shelia asked. “Why would they be looking for her?”
“Torrez, how long would it take the Engine to get going again?” Nia asked, ignoring Shelia completely.
“That all depends on why we stopped,” Torrez replied. “If it was the engineer who pulled the brakes, it could be a few minutes. If it was the Override Rune, it could be anywhere between thirty to sixty ticks. Nia, what’s going on here?”
“There is no time to explain,” Nia said. “Sufficed to say, the gendarmes have an interest in talking to our Maluem, while we have other plans. Tell me, when we were boarding the rail, did you notice any military carriages attached to this line?”
“Yes, I think so,” Torrez replied after some thought. “There were a couple of heavy-duty rigs towards the rear, some carrying those military buggies.”
“Perfect! How many troops did you see?” Nia pressed.
“None, but I think they were all aboard by the time we passed. Nia, what are you-”
“Get your gear together,” Nia interrupted. “We will have to move fast to pull this off. Maluem, come here. I will need to modify your uniform somewhat. I have a few keepsakes from my time with the military that I believe will help us greatly. Tell me, do you think you could act like a complete, pompous ass?”
“Some would say I have that gift,” Maluem replied. “Why, what do you have in mind?”
***
Corporal Vickers strode along the side of the Rail, his hands balled into fists as they swung at his sides. The entire trip from Kodis had been one disaster after another, and this delay was precisely what he did not need. The mission was so simple, move his squad from the Capitol to the border town of Tartan to support local troop movements. He did not know what the local troops were doing, nor was his Lieutenant eager to explain. Vickers only received his orders and a ship-out date. Their Commanding Officer would meet him at the rally point in Stella at
the appointed time, one day from now. Just load up on the rails and head north, a milk run in anyone’s book.
Yet this milk had started going sour right from the start. First, Vicker’s Sergeant took ill hours before their scheduled departure, necessitating her to stay in Kodis until recovered. This left Vickers to make the necessary arrangements and get the troops prepared and make sure his squad and their equipment were loaded correctly for deployment, not that he couldn’t handle it. But it took more than a bit of juggling to get everything aligned with only privates to assist him in his work.
Then the engine developed rune issues in the forward boiler, causing a significant loss of power. There was nothing for it but to divert to Venustus, where the runes could be re-struck by a licensed Mystic. The repair was taken care of by the wheelhouse, but keeping a squad of privates out of trouble long enough for the work to be complete was all on Vickers’ head. Shaking his head, he tried to forget about those long hours of constant worry while the Mystics hammered away at the train’s innards. It all made his stomach hurt.
“No worries,” assured the engineer. “We’ll still arrive a full day ahead of your rendezvous, by my count.”
“Great,” Vickers snorted to himself. “As if that engineer’s count means anything to my CO. If the squad arrives even a few minutes late, the Lieutenant won’t be hanging the Engineer’s butt out to dry. It will be me standing tall before the old man, and I don’t feel like having my choat handed to me!”
So, they were diverted from a straight line to Stella by a short layover in the junction town of Venustus. No real harm was done, right? Not until a local officer decided to saddle Vickers’ unit with some Bounce Buggies needed up north. Now he was not only responsible for a gaggle of rowdy privates and their gear, but also the security of a trolley full of B.B.s that he wanted nothing to do with. Add to that the fact that he had no time to inventory the heaps of junk before they were loaded into their harnesses, forcing him to blindly sign for enough expensive military gear to bankrupt his entire family. How could this get any worse?
He got his answer soon enough. The train had finely got underway back on its path north, with all aboard and accounted for. Vickers’ figured he had a few solid hours of rest before he would once again have to start chasing paperwork and troops around like a crazed dog. At least they were back on their way to the RV point with all heads accounted for and a day to spare. That’s when the train came to a dead stop. It took only a tick for the Corporal to know things had just gotten much worse.
After a rather pointless argument with the Engineer, Vickers stormed back to the military transports on the end of the line. He had not learned much from the sledge-head of a Line Driver, but what he had learned was enough to boil his blood. For reasons unknown, the wheelhouse had activated the ‘Override Rune’ and had commanded the Rail Engine to return to Venustus. When he had pressed the Engineer to tell him more, he only received a sour look and a sarcastic tone.
“Need to know, sonny. Apparently, you don’t need to know.”
“Need to know?” Vickers fumed. “Who was that tic-head to say what I need to know? Who is that ferd? Just some sledge-headed rail skrite! Anything he was privy to should certainly be passed on to me! When we return to Venustus, I will have him standing tall before his superior. Then we’ll see who needs to know what!”
Just the thought of returning to the town they had only left hours before made his blood boil faster. So much for being one day ahead of schedule! They would be lucky to arrive on time as things now stood. How was he going to explain any of this to the CO?
I could try to radio him, Vickers thought furiously. But all our gear is stowed, and it would take an hour to unload it and get the transmitter functional. That ferd of an Engineer said they would be on their way back in only a few minutes. If only there was some way to get the word out, some way that the Lieutenant would know it was not my fault. Maybe he could even talk to the rail officers and-
Vickers was shaken from his musings as he approached the sled carrying the B.B.s. From what he could see, several privates were scrambling over the locked down vehicles, working feverishly to unharness the nearest buggy. On the ground below them stood a single woman dressed in military uniform, barking a stream of orders as they moved. From her tone and bearing, she had all the markings of an officer and a demanding one at that. But he did not know of any other military personnel onboard this rail. He was going to get to the bottom of this on the double tick. There had been far too much nonsense already, and Vickers was not going to stomach any more.
“Who are you,” Vickers demanded. “What gives you the right to order my troops about, and what makes you think you can take one of my B.B.s?”
“Let us start with the first question, reverse it, and have you answer it,” The woman responded without turning to face him.
“I am Corporal Brent Vickers, and these are my troops! Now, by what authority-”
“Oh, there you are, Corporal,” The woman replied, her attention still on the Privates. “I feared you had forsaken your oath to the crown! Would you be good enough to inspire your rabble into showing some haste? I have a schedule to meet and, if your troops cause me to be tardy, there will be a demon to pay!”
“Pardon me, ma’am, but by what authority do you claim to demand anything of my troops or feel you may commandeer Enox Military property? Lance Private Arden! Get your soldiers off that trolley and back into-”
“Ignore that last order!” The woman bellowed before Corporal Vickers could complete his command. Turning swiftly, she confronted Vickers with eyes of icy blue fury. “What game are you playing at Corporal? Do you seriously mean to hamper my progress? I highly doubt such an action would bode well for your military career unless you wish to take charge of commode sanitation in regimental HQ!”
“Ma’am, you have no authority to-”
“Do you recognize this uniform I am wearing, Corporal?”
“Yes, it is the uniform of a Santilis Ground Officer. I am sure that holds some authority in Santilis, but-”
“Excellent, Corporal,” she cut in once more. “We have established that you may be a ferd, but you are not blind. Now, would you kindly identify the rank that I am wearing?”
Corporal Vickers stared at the woman in silent rage for a few ticks before he answered as flatly as possible.
“Yes, I believe those insignia mark you as a Brigade Captain.”
“Quite right, Corporal! Now, would you care to detail for me which rank is higher, Corporal or Brigade Captain?”
“As I was saying, Ma’am, that rank and uniform, may hold a great deal of clout in Santilis. However, you are not in Santilis! You are in Enox! Here my rank outweighs yours when it comes to commanding Enox troops. So, if you would be so kind-”
“Being kind is something I am in no mind to be, Corporal. I believe you have overlooked one minor detail on my lapel. Do you know what this tiny insignia marks me as?”
Corporal Vickers followed her pointing finger to the shiny emblem pinned to her blouse, and his heart froze. He had only seen one of those medallions in his entire career, which was in the Enox Military Command Headquarters in the Capitol. It was on a Santilis General, and he was commanding an Enox infantry regiment at the time.
“From your stunned silence, I take it that you know exactly what it indicates. However, for my simple amusement, I would like to hear you say it. Tell me, what does this pin mark me as?”
“That…uh…identifies you as a Military Liaison from Santilis.”
“Which means?”
“Which means that you are to be extended all authority and privileges of an Enox Commissioned Officer.”
“All authority and privileges, I do like the sound of those words,” the woman said with a tight grin. “So, if I choose to commandeer your soldiers, whose troops do they become?”
“They would become your soldiers, ma’am.”
The woman nodded slowly, eyes wide, a grin on her face as though she
was accepting the correct answer from a rather dim pupil.
“Well said, Corporal Vickers, well said. Now, if I should command you to immediately hand over one of these, ‘B.B.s’ as you call them, what should you do?”
“I should do everything in my power to make sure you receive one as quickly as possible.”
“Precisely! Now tell me, is it customary to salute officers in your military?”
Corporal Vickers snapped to attention, providing a crisp salute.
“My apologies, ma’am, I was not aware of your office. I was not made aware of any liaisons traveling with us. Was your name on the line’s manifest-?”
“That is well above your paygrade, Corporal,” the woman said, cutting him off. “The matters that need concern you are getting this rabble in order, providing me with one of these carriages, and stepping clear of my path. If you do not perform these actions for me immediately, I will make certain that you are busted down so low that you will be saluting the royal dung haulers within a fortnight! Is that perfectly clear, Corporal?”
“Yes, Ma’am! We will have it down for you in just a few ticks. However, I will need you to sign for-”
As the corporal spoke, the train beside them lurched suddenly as the engine began to realign its gears for the return trip. The cacophony of noise this movement caused drowned out nearly everything Vickers said, not that she was listening all that hard.
“Corporal, I have no time for this! Take your petty concerns up with your superiors at HQ! You now have thirty pulses to get that carriage down and in operating condition, and ten of them have already expired. Now, it would behoove you to start moving as though you have a purpose!”
Corporal Vickers shot the Brigade Captain a quick salute as he turned his attention back to his men. If she wanted one of the damned B.B.s, she could have it! That would be one less pile of scrap he would be responsible for. With a few well-placed commands, and a threat or two, the privates had a B.B. unlimbered and rolling clear of the train. He had just enough time to muster his troops and get them back on the rig before the wheels of the train started turning, heading back towards Venustus.