Skyclad (Fate's Anvil Book 1)

by Scott Browder

  The dwarf didn’t reply this time as she used her teeth to pull the stopper from a crystal bottle before pouring the liquid over a cloth. Dana pulled her hair up out of the way as her friend swabbed up and down her back with the specialized cocktail of healing potion, antiseptic, and magical numbing agents.

  Finishing her ministrations, she replaced the stopper and put the bottle back on a shelf. “Now, you know this is still gonna hurt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, right?”

  Dana nodded affirmative. “Do it before I change my mind.” She grimaced, straightening her neck to face forward and biting down on a piece of folded leather. The other woman moved around outside of her vision, and in a mere handful of heartbeats, she felt the prickle of the living metal tines prodding the partially numb skin of her back.

  Andeira pulled a small crystal rod down from a shelf and paused for a single breath. “Activating the grafting enchantment now, ” she said.

  And then Dana passed out from waves of pain orders of magnitude worse than the incident that had first maimed her body.

  Watery eyes and too bright lights welcomed her back to the waking world, and a biting, burning pain that danced through her entire being. But the pain was fading with every labored breath in Dana’s lungs, as the nerves and bones of her spinal column meshed with the enchanted Lifesteel Alloy more completely with every heartbeat.

  “Pffftaaah!” she exclaimed when she’d finally recovered enough to spit out the leather she’d bitten into. “Jesus Christ on a burnt cheese cracker! Shit!” she gasped. “I’m so goddamn glad I only have to do that once!”

  Moving carefully, Dana felt around her lower back and tailbone where she could reach without the flexing causing too much pain. All along her spine the living metal was fused with her flesh. She could feel smooth ridges with staggered notches etched into the material like strange connecting ports. She could feel it with her fingers, and she could feel that touch of her fingers through the metal as if it were flesh.

  “God, that’s so weird,” she said. “I can feel through the metal.”

  “Aye, that’s why P&J’s prosthetics are the most sought after and most expensive in all of Anfealt, when people can’t get to a healer in time to replace the actual limb. Nobody else knows the secret to enchanting the alloy, though I doubt Mister Petram ever thought anyone would request something like this. ”

  “I’ll have to come up with some outfits that leave my entire spine clear, Andi, but for today I’ll have to settle for just the harness. It covers everything anyway, and I can’t not try this out right now.”

  Now recovered enough to move almost normally, Dana pushed herself up and flexed from side to side to relax her pain-cramped muscles. She lowered herself into her chair, and then wheeled through the door into the main space of the building, where a half-dozen bays were occupied with what looked like different designs for archaic steampunk armor.

  Rolling over to the second bay, Dana pulled herself up out of her chair by means of two curved bars on either side of the opening. With a practiced swing, she turned herself around and gently lowered herself into the customized, cupped seat of the magitech walker standing ready in the alcove.

  Andeira helped her secure herself into the seat with the various buckles and straps, and tightened the padded chest harness in place with a deft manipulation of the fasteners on either side under Dana’s arms. “So this is supposed to get rid of the delay between movements when you use your skill?” the dwarf asked as she double-checked that her employer was firmly secure.

  “That’s the idea. With touch alone it’s like jerking along; I can move it, but there’s so much lag.”

  Dana relaxed back into the contraption and closed her eyes to focus. She’d spent months trying to figure out the best way to use the signature skill of her class, and the day had finally arrived. With a thought, she activated the [Neural Link].

  As her skill went into effect, the golem frame shivered as the core activated with a low hum of Mana. Tendrils of woven copper, gold, and mithril protruded from the seat to socket gently into Dana’s new spinal graft, allowing her to sense the entire mechanical body as if it were her own.

  The experience was disorienting at first. Moving the walker’s arm happened by instinct when she moved her own flesh and blood arm, and she’d have fallen over in the bay when she tried to take a step. “Okay,” she laughed with a heady feeling of intoxication over the improvement. “There’s no lag at all, but this is gonna take an adjustment period.”

  A few clanks and experimental attempts, and Dana was able to make the walker march in place, very slowly and carefully. “The arms I’ll have to practice with later,” she said with satisfaction. “Alright, Andi, open the main bay door.”

  Her assistant complied, pulling a lever on the wall that caused the chain and pulley to slowly raise the front wall section.

  With a smugness that couldn’t be expressed in any languages on Earth or Anfealt, and to the utter surprise and wonder of a gnome, a human, and two dwarven laborers, the [Golem-Forge Mechaneer] stepped into view.

  Chapter 16: [Mage-Eater]

  On any other day, in any other circumstance, Zizzy would have been overjoyed to be flying across the entirety of Stormbreak Isle. Chances for her to stretch her wings were few and far between, usually limited to training exercises with other teams of Wardens, and her coveted free days that were, by the terms of the accord she’d struck with the city, afforded to her merely twice a year.

  This was not one of those enjoyable days. Training exercises were varied in their purpose, but always satisfying and goal oriented. Her free days were less structured, but still restricted in where she was allowed to fly. But today she had a mission. A mission sanctioned by the [Oracle] herself; this fact, hanging over her, made Zizzy as nervous as she was excited.

  The [Oracle] rarely intervened in worldly affairs on her own initiative; usually, petitions on behalf of, or bargains between, nations were required to drag her into things. The fact that she had sent a missive in such a way was a grim reminder of the potential disaster looming over the island. With such implications weighing on her like a funeral pall, and with explicit permission to top up her own reserves of power, Zizzy flitted southward along the eastern coast of the island. She had an important stop to make before she could even attempt the two-day flight to Southpeak Village.

  Roughly an hour by flight south of Stormbreak City, a massive block of grey and black stone jutted out of the sea just off the coast. Officially known as Stormbreak Prison, it was known to the locals by a name as mysterious as it was fitting: the Pillar. No bridge connected the facility to the rest of the island; instead, a broad platform butted up against the cliff facing the isolated tower of stone. The platform was ringed halfway around with one half of a levitation array, and its mate was inscribed on a balcony jutting from the side of the prison.

  Zizzy swooped down toward the platform on the edge of the island cliffs, wary of the Pillar’s enchanted defenses. The passive wards made flight impossible, turning the ocean winds into vicious downdrafts that would smash any potentially flight-capable escapees straight down onto the jagged rocks that encircled the prison just above the waterline. What prevented escape also prevented entrance, and the only way in or out of the imposing structure was the floating platform.

  With no small measure of satisfaction, she banked sharply into a quick turn to halt her forward flight, a double beat of her wings in quick succession kicking up swirls of dust in front of the guard station next to the ferry platform. Not even the urgency of her mission could totally dampen her pleasure at being given a reason to fly. Her boots touched the ground with a soft crunch of gravel, and she took a moment to straighten her uniform while she waited for the dust to settle.

  Even this far out, and isolated from the rumor mills present in more central cities, news of the [Mage-Eater] had managed to travel. A very tiny settlement had grown around the small clump of guard buildings and barracks. Normally it was livel
y, but today it lacked the normal hustle and bustle of the families brought in by Wardens serving their year-long posting for guard duty.

  Zizzy’s demonic nature was completely unshackled after her exertion from the flight, and she could taste the nervous fear and wariness in the air all around her.

  The ambient fear was not enough to abate her own arousal and hunger, however. A succubus had to feed to survive, and her feedings were always fatal to those unfortunates who became her meals. Word of her impending arrival, and the purpose thereof, must have been sent ahead by the lord-commander via expensive communication spells, because most of the men had cleared the area around the local Warden captain’s office, save those who had enough mental resistances to endure the full expression of her own sensual aura.

  “So it’s true then, Constable?” asked the young guardswoman standing outside the captain’s door after a nervous salute, the slight quaver in her arm replicated in her voice. “We’ve heard all the rumors, but if they’re sending you here, then he must be as dangerous as the last supply caravan people were claiming…”

  Even with wings, I can’t outrun rumor! The thought was grim in the back of Zizzy’s mind. The ferry platform operators were charging up the crystals to prepare for the unscheduled crossing, so she couldn’t avoid the necessity of speaking to the young woman.

  “He’s dangerous, of course. But we know how to deal with people of his class,” Zizzy replied soothingly. “Stay paired up with fighters or brawlers, don’t leave our mages alone for any reason whatsoever, and swap out your gear for stuns and riot suppression instead of Mana-based focus items.”

  “But why riot gear? Isn’t that for huge crowds?” asked the other woman as the door to the office opened to reveal the grizzled captain.

  The captain’s voice broke in suddenly. “Because riot gear is loud and guaranteed to get everyone’s attention. The constable has the right of it,” His voice was gruff, and somewhat strained from the proximity of Zizzy’s aura, but he spoke with the calm experience of a lifelong professional about his trade. With a very rare specialization in physical combat, the [Steel-Whip Sentinel] was one of the few class types who had little to fear from an anti-mage. “Classes like the [Mage-Eater] can’t tank a straight fight, Lieutenant, not unless they live long enough to reach higher levels and more powerful specializations. Which is why he needs to be stopped now , before his Worldwalker traits let him outpace us.”

  Zizzy nodded at the young woman as the trio walked down the cobbled street to the ferry platform. “On the off chance you do encounter him, get loud, get flashy, get as much attention as you can, and try to get away from him.” She regarded the junior guardswoman soberly. “Flash grenades, bright-sticks, sticky-balls, shock-nets. Don’t hold back, but keep your magic skills on lockdown. Attack with a single spell of your own, and he’ll turn it right back at you, but even stronger.”

  “Aye,” continued the captain as they waited for the crystals to charge the platform enchantment. “We haven’t had to deal with one in…what…thirty years or so, Constable?”

  “Twenty-nine years and some months, Captain, but there were three of them,” Zizzy replied meticulously. “Mercenary spies, though; not true anti-magic classes, merely trained in similar skills. They all three managed to suicide before I could take them. Likely a Deskren geas,” —the succubus almost spat the phrase—“although we couldn’t prove it at the time.”

  The younger guard tentatively made to back away as the low hum of the charging platform reached a steady keen, but the captain stopped her with a gesture. “I know it’s your first posting here at the Pillar, Lieutenant, but you were going to have to make this trip soon anyway. You’ll be rotating weekly between the shore and the prison for your entire tour of duty here, and now is as good a time as any to give you the tour of your new part-time home. I’ll see to that while the constable attends to her…business.”

  Zizzy’s aura pulsed with an intensity that beggared even the veteran captain’s composure, and the lieutenant struggled and failed to keep a blush from coloring her cheeks before the succubus wrangled her inner self back under control. “You are new, Lieutenant. You’ll be seeing me every month when things are running normally. Though usually I come here with the regular supply run, so my aura is not this pronounced. Today is by no means regular.”

  “Lieutenant Kanessa here is a [Dreamsinger],” the captain spoke up, saving the young woman from what would have been a stuttering attempt to respond. “Bardic types tend to be more sensitive than most to empathic auras like yours, and being around you is good training for what she needs to look out for to protect her mind on duty. Sometimes our tenants can get rowdy, so a strong bard or singer comes in handy for calming a mob or riot.”

  The trio stepped onto the platform once the sigils lit up to indicate the levitation array was ready. As they came within range of a small, glowing crest set into a simple pedestal in the center of the ferry, the captain’s badge began to glow in concert. As the safety rail closed around the edges, Zizzy cleared her throat and spoke up once again to get the awkward part of the conversation over with.

  “Any volunteers from the condemned to go early, Captain?”

  Lieutenant Kanessa made a choking sound, the blood draining from her face.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. A new arrival since your last visit has requested the Kiss of Mercy,” replied the older man with a solemn tone. He continued speaking, giving Kanessa a moment to compose herself while Zizzy’s attention was on him. “The young woman who burned down her husband’s shop when she caught him cheating. Girl admitted to it after she found out the collapsing wall had killed a child. She’s tried to hang herself twice already.”

  Zizzy winced at the news. “The truly penitent ones are always the hardest, sir, even though they don’t try to fight it.”

  The captain’s gaze slid to the side. “The other two we have on the list might be more to your liking, then; a thief who turned to cutting throats instead of just purses, and a verified pirate who had the misfortune of being recognized by some local tavern patrons who saw his wanted poster. He’s regretting his choice of drinking establishments now.”

  “Southpeak is two days away by wing, and more killings will happen before I can get there,” the succubus stated flatly. “Were these any other circumstances, I would give the woman a few months to reconsider, but I’ll need all three if I’m to fly through the night without stopping to rest.”

  The lieutenant finally worked up the nerve to speak, blurting out a question that had been on her mind since the constable arrived. “How will you fight the [Mage-Eater], Constable Zizzy? Can’t he turn your magics against you, too?”

  Zizzy’s response was a throaty chuckle, laced with such lethal promise that the junior officer unconsciously retreated a pace. “I hope he does, Lieutenant. Truly. All my succubus magics are fueled by lust and demonic hunger.” The constable shivered for a moment, struggling with her predatory nature. “He may be able to match me in direct combat; there’s no way to know unless someone manages to live to tell about it. But all he will accomplish if he throws my magics back is to make me even stronger, and his own hungers will feed mine as well.”

  The lieutenant stared at the succubus for a long moment, deep in thought. “Everyone knows about the Good Succubus of Stormbreak, Ma’am. You’re very…” The woman struggled to find words. “Different than I thought you would be. Nicer in some ways than I thought…not as nice in others.”

  “Good is not always nice,” said the captain with a gravelly chuckle. “Zizzy has done good work for decades, but she needs to eat, just like the rest of us. She’s not once fed upon the innocent since she arrived in Stormbreak, so allowing her to act as executioner solves two problems at the same time. She gets to feed, and nobody else has to burden their conscience.”

  As the platform passed the halfway point between the Island and the Pillar, it carried its passengers into the aegis of the Pillar’s protective wards. The security encha
ntments began audibly humming, filling the space with sound. The captain’s badge and the pedestal glowed brighter still; then, both glow and noise died as the wards accepted the arrivals. Once they were through, the air was calm enough to resume their previous discussion.

  “So it’s true then, the stories about how you were summoned?”

  The captain and the constable chuckled, sharing a glance, before Zizzy responded, “Absolutely true, though incomplete. I was summoned by an unusually young student at the old Stormbreak Academy, but instead of taking me to bed or selling me amongst his friends, he merely asked me hundreds of questions about demonium runes. The boy never even looked at me, naked and kneeling in his room. I never even got his name before he cast me out, with orders to stay out of his sight.”

  “Might as well tell her the rest of it, Constable,” the captain said gruffly as he turned to look at Kanessa. “Her other orders were simple, with no loopholes for a young demoness to exploit. Merely to never feed on the innocent, and to be useful to the city.”

  The succubus nodded as the captain spoke, then continued herself, “I nearly starved the first few years. I didn’t know what to do. A summoned familiar literally cannot disobey their summoner. I didn’t even have enough leeway to go back and beg for an explanation. They caught me after I’d chased down a murderer I witnessed committing his crime.”

  “The reports from the Wardens of the time were quite detailed,” said the captain. “They’d been tracking him for weeks, but he was always two steps ahead and could hide his Mana traces. Zizzy, however,” he said with a nod at the constable, “didn’t know how to do that back then. So they followed her demonic energy trail from the last victim, and found her in the middle of feeding.”

  The younger guardswoman goggled at the story, more detailed than the publicly known tales and rumors, albeit less fanciful. “And you never found out who summoned you? Even after more than eighty years?”