Driftmetal II

by J. C. Staudt

  I knocked again, pounding on the door this time.

  “If you don’t go away, I shall have to—”

  I interrupted him with my fist. A sea of glass accompanied him to the floor. I reached through the shattered sidelight to unlock the door from the inside. The crowd behind me let out a gasp as I opened it and walked in.

  I lifted Chelmsworth by the collar and threw him across the porch, where he hit the steps and rattled down them. I could hear voices from deeper inside the house, so I followed the sounds until I came to the dining room. The Baron was just sitting down to dinner with a table full of guests, ostensibly telling them the story of how I’d barged in earlier that afternoon.

  “I’m back,” I said. “And you really should hire a new butler. The one you’ve got is very rude. He’s liable to get himself put in the hospital before this is all over.”

  The Baron shot out of his seat. “Enough! This is twice in one day you’ve trespassed in my home. How one can possibly be so uncouth, or bear such little regard for his betters, is beyond my ability to comprehend. Are you quite mad?”

  “The short answer is yes. Consider yourself fortunate that the short answer is all I have time for, because listing the reasons why I have such little regard for my betters would take all night. If you’ll come with me, you’ll find that there are a number of people here to see you. People who feel you’ve been doing a piss-poor job of running this rathole of a floater.”

  “Well, I never… who you must think you are to order me around so! Gentlemen, this is the very rapscallion I was just telling you about. The one who stormed in like a right knave earlier today. If you please…”

  The Baron’s dinner guests moved to block my exit. I let them.

  “Chelmsworth,” the Baron called, “notify the constable that we’ve found our man.”

  “Uh, just so you know… Chelmsworth is not doing well. I don’t think he’s gonna be able to help you for a while.”

  “You… blaggard!” The Baron’s hand went instinctively to his hip, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. “You have insulted my honor as a statesman. I demand recompense.”

  “You demand? Oh, no you don’t. I demand! I’m surprised this island is still airborne with a man like you in charge. If it’s recompense you want, why don’t you take it for yourself for once? I challenge you to a duel. It’s the only way you can prove you’re not the negligent coward everyone around here says you are.”

  The dinner guests laughed. “A duel, did you say?” asked one of them. “Who in his right mind would even think to evoke that archaic tradition?”

  “This man is not in his right mind,” said the Baron.

  “Have you any idea the penalty for assaulting a Lord of the Regency—let alone killing one?” asked another of the guests.

  I did. I also knew that a man involved in a duel couldn’t be incarcerated until the duel had ended. I may not be a law-lover, but I know the law. I could think like my enemy and strategize my next move with the best of them. “Nonetheless,” I said, “the challenge is set. How do you respond… coward?”

  “I am no coward, sir,” the Baron began, looking around at his peers. “I… accept.” He set his jaw and exhaled through his nose.

  “Good,” I said. “As the person being challenged, it’s your right to choose the weaponry, the time, and the place.”

  “We shall use flecker swords. The time will be dawn; the place—the fields beside the town common.”

  “And the day?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  10

  “What were you thinking?” asked Thomas. “How could you expect this to improve our situation?” He was furious, pacing Ezra’s living room like a schoolmaster lecturing a misbehaving child. Ezra was sitting in his armchair while Rufus and the others sat or stood by.

  “Tommy, let me illuminate you,” I said. “You may think I act rashly, and without consideration for the consequences of my actions. But I assure you that every move I’ve made so far has been a calculated one. Ezra, we’re close personal friends of your granddaughter Sable’s. She’s in trouble. The Civs have arrested her.”

  “The Civs? What for?”

  “She was trying to save your son.”

  Ezra was speechless. “My son… Angus? We haven’t spoken in years. What’s happened to him?”

  “I know you two haven’t been on the best of terms, but he’s been abducted by Maclin Automation. That’s why we’re here. Sable is counting on us to get him out, and she said you could help.”

  “Me? How can I help?”

  “We’ve never met Angus before,” said Thomas. “Sable said we might convince you to accompany us when we go to release him, so as to point him out.”

  “I’d be glad to go, but… I don’t think he’d be happy to see me.”

  “Ezra, don’t be coy. Any son would be happy to see his father when he’s coming to spring him from prison.”

  Ezra gave me a little smile, but it quickly faded. He shook his head. “Not my son. He don’t speak to me no more.”

  “I had a falling-out with my dad, too. Difference of opinion. Lately I’ve been making excuses not to own up for what I’ve done. But it’s time I took my dad’s advice. Whatever may have happened between you and your son in the past, it’s time to put it behind you. For Sable’s sake. Freeing Angus is the most important thing in the world to her right now, and she’s powerless to do anything while she’s being detained.”

  Rufus gave me a lopsided grin. “The boy’s sweet on her.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. “On that note, I think it’s about time I told you who I am. My name is Mulroney Jakes. You may have seen the poorly-drawn likeness of me they’re calling a wanted poster. I’ve been running from the Civs for months now, but I can’t keep running forever. Sable got caught because of me—because I convinced her that the best way to pay Angus’s ransom was to steal.

  “Maclin Automation said Angus was into them for about three-hundred and fifty-thousand chips. Now, I happen to have that amount. So I’m going to do two things for you, Ezra. I’m going to defeat the Baron tomorrow. And I’m going to free your son.”

  Ezra was skeptical. “How are you gonna pull that off with the Civs after you?”

  “I’m not. Not without your help. My time as a free man is up soon. I aim to get away with as many acts of defiance as I can before that time comes. So here’s what I’m suggesting. You own some type of aircraft, I’m guessing…”

  “Sure. It’s parked in the tunnel. We’ve all been parking there to keep them far-siders from taking over our territory.”

  “Right. We’re going to need to put that aside—at least for tomorrow. Once I kick the tar out of the Baron, you’ll have someone in power who I hope will be a lot more willing to gain the affection and trust of the people. Meanwhile, I’m going to need help from all of you. Anyone who isn’t comfortable doing things that are a little outside the law should leave now. Actually, let me rephrase that—these are not things that could be considered illegal. They just will be.”

  Rufus laughed. “Why do you think we started this little club? To twiddle our thumbs? It’s Ezra’s kin who need our help. Not a one of us here who wouldn’t lie down in the mud for Ezra.”

  Nods all around.

  “Right. First things first: do any of you know the guy who owns the junkyard?”

  A hand shot up.

  “Okay, good. That makes things easier. When it comes to the Civs, there’s no telling for certain how they’ll react to any given situation. The last thing we want is to overestimate them and then be outwitted by their simple-mindedness.”

  It took all night to explain my plan and make the necessary preparations. None of us slept until we’d worked it all out, down to the last detail.

  The next morning, I stood enveloped in a thick clinging fog, crowds gathered in the field like ghosts. The Baron stood opposite me, shivering in the early-morning chill. His sword bearer lifted the lid to show me
the matched pair of flecker swords inside the long wooden case he was holding. I considered each one individually before taking both, giving them a few good practice swings, and choosing the one I found more to my liking.

  The bearer crossed the distance and offered the Baron his remaining blade before bowing and stepping aside. The Baron slashed at the air, put the tip in the earth and flexed the blade. He looked calmer now than he had before, somehow more comfortable with a sword in his hand.

  Before we got started with this charade, I had a few things to say, so I turned to address the crowd. “My name is Mulroney Jakes,” I said. “Let it be known today that I, an enemy of the Regency, have challenged the Baron of Kilori to a duel. Baron… I didn’t catch your name…”

  The Baron cleared his throat. “You may address me as Lord Englebert.”

  “Okay, Bert. For those of you who aren’t aware, Baron Bert, here, has continually refused to enact property laws that would prevent unfair usage of both public and private land among Kilori’s underside community. People have been storing their vessels in other peoples’ lots, and the Baron refuses to do anything about it. That’s like being forced to let someone else stable their horses in your front yard.

  “The Baron thinks it’s okay to let people crawl all over each other with no right to their own personal space. Meanwhile, he’s sitting on thousands of acres of his own land that no one can touch without fear of his wrath. That’s right, folks—he owns the very grass you’re standing on.”

  “Dash it all. Be done with it, man,” shouted the Baron. “We’ve heard enough.”

  I spat. “Today, I will defeat this man. Tomorrow, I’ll be locked in prison for standing against the Regency’s tyranny. A tyranny that men like Baron Bert, here, are entrusted to maintain on the Regent’s behalf. Men like him have ruled this world for far too long. We have been forced to stand by while the Lords of the Regency benefit from our toils. I hereby vow that this duel will never cease until I am dead or the Baron is vanquished.”

  “You will stow this rubbish at once,” Baron Englebert said.

  I pointed my sword at him. “You will shut up and let me finish.”

  Laughter scattered through the crowd.

  “Mr. Hewson. Begin the proceedings, if you please,” said Englebert, giving the air a set of quick back-and-forth slashes.

  The referee stepped forward and beckoned us to advance. He set the lines, then gave the announcement. “A duel to the point of surrender. Weapons are flecker swords. Any use of additional weaponry is prohibited, and will result in immediate disqualification from this contest.” He looked at me, then at the Baron, confirming that each of us understood and was ready. “Gentlemen… you may begin!”

  The crowd came alive as Lord Englebert and I closed in. I assumed most of the cheering was for me, but that was due to my large and unwieldy ego. Our blades touched, and the Baron sent a low cut to my left. I parried. He was better than I’d anticipated. My big mouth had gotten me into trouble again, but I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised anyone, myself least of all.

  Sensing weakness, Englebert went on the offensive, slashing and poking at me in his rage like some mad dentist with a toothpick. I was careful, making judicious use of every block and parry so I could identify the patterns in his technique. Everyone has patterns; it’s just a matter of feeling them out until you find them.

  Baron Bert danced toward me with the effortless poise of a seasoned swordsman, and I realized why he’d chosen the flecker sword as his preferred weapon. What an augurblade was to organic flesh, a flecker sword was to synthetic. And yet, the Baron wielded his blade without the slightest hint of fear that he might make a mistake.

  I stayed on my heels, refusing to join him in his dance and instead relying on my medallion to give me the foresight to evade or stunt every blow. When I saw him preparing to make a deep thrust, I sidestepped it and knocked his blade away, then knocked him off balance with my shoulder. He stumbled sideways, but stayed on his feet.

  I touched a finger to the brim of my top-hat in salute, then blocked his follow-up swing when he thought I wasn’t ready. He was getting angry now, growing frustrated at the ease with which I was thwarting his attacks. I was walking through the fight like a bored gentleman out for a stroll, while the Baron hopped and lunged around me, wasting his breath and his energy. I could feel the sweat beading around my brow, but I was still the one in control. I was going to beat him, alright, but I was going to do it in my own time.

  “You’re quite the skilled fencer,” I said casually. “You’ve got the technique to support all this talk of honor and dignity.”

  “Silence, you blaggard. Be still, and die like the dog you are.” The Baron was breathing hard now, working on me like a sculptor on granite, as if he might chip away at my defenses with the sheer quantity of his attempts.

  “Now, now,” I said. “Let’s not be so quick to pass judgment.”

  Englebert brought his blade down from on high. Instead of stepping back to avoid it, I stopped his blade with mine and head-butted him. My forehead crashed into his nose, punching his whole head backward in a gush of blue blood. So he is a techsoul, I thought. He’s not confident with that blade because it can’t hurt him; he’s confident because he knows how to use it.

  The Baron gave a pained grunt, touching his face with a tender hand to assess the damage. His eyes went wide when he saw the sheer amount of blood on his fingers. He looked up at me, and his gaze darkened. It was as if I’d suddenly given him proper cause to focus all his rage on me.

  Lifting his blade, he set in on his fiercest assault yet, assailing me with a series of blows that struck my blade so hard they left my hand stinging. “I’ll have you strung up for this, you filthy scoundrel.”

  “You’ll have to wait your turn,” I said. “The Regency’s got first dibs, and they’re not likely to be done with me any time soon.”

  He lunged, turned his blade inward, and flicked his wrist to send my sword flying from my hand. “I won’t have to wait long,” he said, bearing down on me.

  I was defenseless—at least to the extent dictated by the rules of our contest. He made a sharp crosscut, a wide arc I only narrowly avoided. His next cut was lower. It caught me off guard, and I felt the blade’s sting as it landed across my thighs. I stumbled backward, blood running from the seams he’d opened in my pants. He was advancing, and I had nowhere to go. I was done for.

  It was then that I felt the medallion’s heartbeat. It was soft at first. Then it surged through me like a wave, until I was dark and invincible, and I didn’t need a sword or rules or honor. Because staying alive was staying alive, and that was the only thing that mattered anymore.

  I threw myself backward like I was doing the limbo, and watched the tip of his blade slip by, no more than a hair’s breadth above my chest. At the end of his swing, I kicked at his sword hand and knocked the hilt free. He bobbled the weapon for a long moment, and I watched him regain control as my back hit the ground. It took him just long enough to recover that he didn’t notice the pin-sized dart I shot from my wrist port into the back of his calf. Just in case anything goes wrong, I’d told Thomas and Ezra the night before.

  I rolled over and got to my feet as the Baron was coming toward me. I’m not too proud to admit that I ran away from him then. I ran toward my sword, which was lying on the ground quite a distance away, until I heard him begin to lag behind me. I stopped, deciding I wasn’t going to pick up my sword at all. To guys like me, reputation is everything, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to give this whole blasted town something to talk about.

  I turned as Englebert, lesser lord of the law-lovers, came toward me, more stumbling now than walking. It was as if he’d gotten drunk within the span of a few seconds. The referee might soon pick up on my trick, I knew. But I didn’t much care, since we weren’t going to be around for much longer.

  I walked backward in lockstep with the Baron, watching him closely as his swings grew increasingly inept an
d clumsy. When he was just about to collapse, I took him by the wrist and bent it backward until he dropped his sword into my waiting hand. Then I knelt, letting him fall over my shoulder. I waved to the crowd as I stood.

  “Thank you all for being here today,” I said. “Farewell. Fight the Regency.”

  Waving the sword to create an opening in the crowd, I shoved my way through the press of bodies and began to run, letting the fog wrap me up in its protective arms. I heard shouting from the contest grounds behind me, a little too late. It seemed they’d only just gotten a handle on what was happening. Lord Baron-Bert wasn’t dead, of course. He was only sleeping. Sleeping like an elephant in a poacher’s snare.

  The nearest edge of the floater was quite a distance away, especially with the weight of another man on my shoulders. I trudged up the hill and split the tree line, leaping out into nothingness. The Galeskimmer’s deck materialized through the fog, and I landed on a heap of gathered blankets.

  The boat began to move immediately, as hands came down to seize the Baron and lift me to my feet. I could make out the shapes of the rest of our fleet around us, half a dozen airships, hovers, and balloons to accompany us to Maclin, the aptly-named floater that was host to Maclin Automation’s headquarters. I could see Ezra at the helm, and a few of his friends manning the Galeskimmer’s four-pounders. If the Civs wanted to mess with me now, they’d have a battle on their hands.

  “Kidnapping people is my new favorite thing,” I said, brushing myself off.

  “Giving the Regency another reason to dislike you has always been your favorite thing,” said a familiar voice.

  “Sal?”

  It was him, alright. He came at me through the fog, wrapping me in a warm embrace I hadn’t been expecting.

  “Don’t touch me, you law-loving backstabber. What in the heavens are you doing here?”

  “They sent me after you, Mull. I tried to tell you, but I never got a chance to signal your vessel on the way here. I’ve been hot on your trail since you left Everwynd.”

  “So you’re the reason they didn’t swoop in and arrest us right away?”