Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1)

by J. L. Gribble

  “What do you think I did before trucks were invented, child?” Not quite under his breath, Asaron said, “Modern times have corrupted the youth. It’s a shame.”

  “I have no problems being corrupted,” Kane said.

  “I’m sure you’ll muddle through. You’re—” Asaron broke off, reining his horse to a halt.

  Toria and Kane followed suit, trusting he would not stop for less than a good reason. She resisted the urge to ask what was wrong. Instead of trying to peer into the surrounding darkness and figure it out for herself, Toria cast out with her own special senses.

  Keeping her permanent physical shields intact, she lowered the mental blocks that prevented her from being overwhelmed by the magic she could see flowing through the world. She tuned out the brilliant emerald shields surrounding Kane, and ignored the uncomfortable black hole where Asaron should have been.

  “See anything?” Kane had gone the same route, and stared at the trees lining either side of the road. “And by the way, you’re going weak in the rear.”

  “Thanks.” Toria caught the loop of power her partner threw and reinforced the shielding behind her back. She sometimes forgot about what she couldn’t see. Kane had a similar problem with the area below his knees.

  “Hush.” Asaron’s tone was more absent-minded than irritated. They stilled at the command. Then, the elder vampire relaxed his alert stance. “That was odd.”

  “What’s going on?” With the apparent danger past, Toria banished her magesight. She had nothing.

  “Anything out of the ordinary?” Asaron gave the partners an expectant look.

  “You mean with magesight?” Toria shook her head. “Just Kane’s shields, his sword, and your necklace you still won’t tell us anything about.”

  “Not important right now, Toria,” Kane said.

  Unrepentant, Toria ignored him. They were still on home ground, and if Asaron already saw bad signs, it didn’t bode well for the mission at all.

  “I must be getting old. Let’s get out of here,” Asaron said. “The night’s not getting any younger, and we’ve still got a river to cross.”

  They once again pointed their horses down the road. The darkness made Toria sleepy, and her mind drifted toward the past. They had headed north with Asaron the summer after they graduated high school on their first journeyman tour. The first bout of trouble they ran into was a late-night summer storm. Asaron lost track of time, and the clouds blew away to present a sun already beginning to rise. The scramble to set up camp and get the vampire under cover had not been pleasant.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Kane startled her out of her reverie. “Just remembering the Calverton trip and trying not to fall asleep.”

  “That was wild, wasn’t it?” Kane said.

  “Victory and I have had our share of close calls,” Asaron said. “But that was one for the books. I wish these things wouldn’t happen so often.”

  “Often for us or often for you?” Toria said. “Your definition of time can get a bit warped, Grandpa. Like Mama’s. You talk about things that happened three centuries ago like they happened last week.”

  “Time is strange for those who live for centuries,” Asaron said. “Vampires are forced to realize that events they are part of today can have reverberations decades in the future while also living in the here and now.”

  Kane took a swig of water from his canteen and tossed it to Toria. “Must be even stranger for Mikelos, then.”

  “Indeed,” Asaron said. “My daughter’s daywalker does not live in a life ruled by the change of the light.”

  “But he does live by his connection to Mama,” Toria said. “He told me once that the three years he wasn’t bonded to a vampire were the hardest of his life. He said that sometimes he worries about me growing up. I think he’s afraid of change.”

  “And he wouldn’t be the first daywalker to have that particular phobia,” Asaron said.

  Toria took point when the conversation turned more philosophical. The more intangible aspects of life were Kane’s specialty. The chemist in Toria lived in the physical. She nudged her chestnut mare forward, and the sounds of the others’ low voices retreated behind her.

  Soon she could scent water in the air. They’d headed south to where the Agios River could be forded on horseback. Max had requested that Asaron not use the ferry closer to Limani—he didn’t want to alert any more people than necessary to where they were headed. The original settlers chose their building site because of the defensibility of a peninsula. But since that made leaving difficult, on occasion it had its downsides.

  Next she heard flowing water, and small waves lapping the shore. Though Asaron must have heard the river long before she did, she couldn’t resist calling out, “We’re almost there!”

  The Agios River that ran next to the university was a wide expanse of water. By that point, various other water sources had merged with it. Now, however, it was more of a wide creek masquerading as a river, with water shallow enough to ford on horseback with just the risk of damp boots.

  The rushing torrent of springtime had slowed, and the current was firm and steady. “Let’s go,” Asaron said. Taking the front of their trio, he urged his mount to step forward into the water.

  Kane’s followed suit without a problem, but Toria’s mare seemed to have an inherent dislike of the water. Once she reached the point where the water met the narrow band of sand and mud alongside it, the mare planted her feet and snorted in derision. “Oh, come on, girl.” Toria nudged the horse’s flanks with her heels. “I’m not going to get off and push you.”

  But any effort to press the horse forward resulted in her skittering to either side, rather than any farther forward. Laughter reached her ears, from across the river where her companions waited for her. “Enjoying this, are you?”

  “Of course!” Asaron called back. “But we don’t have all night, Toria!”

  Rather than waste time with a response to her companions, Toria said to the horse, “I promise I’ll feed you an apple when we get across.” Another loud exhalation of air met her bribe. “Carrots?”

  “Toria!”

  “I’m working on it!” It wasn’t her fault her horse was hydrophobic.

  Nothing else to be done about it. She swung out of the saddle and stepped back to glare at the horse as a rush of displaced air over her head stirred her hair. A crossbow bolt thudded into the tree trunk next to her, straight through where Toria’s mounted torso should have been. She yelped and lunged forward, grabbing the mare’s reins to haul her back into the woods. The horse jerked and gave a grunt, letting Toria know she was most annoyed. But the mare wasn’t panicking. A second bolt followed the first, sailing farther into the woods before snapping against a tree.

  Trees. Trees meant cover. Toria’s brain dredged up everything it had ever learned about combat and she scrambled toward cover. The horse followed without protest. Probably since she now headed in the opposite direction of the water. Pulling the mare farther into the trees, Toria threw the reins over a low branch.

  Now the shouting registered. The bolts had come from the opposite side of the river—her family had to be in more trouble than she. She wanted to dive into the river herself and help them out, but Asaron would be appalled by her lack of common sense. So she forced herself to pause and draw power straight from the air to strengthen the shields surrounding her. Then she crouched low and snuck back toward the edge of the forest.

  Across the river, Asaron slashed out with his sword, keeping three attackers at bay. Her grandpa could take care of himself, so her eyes sought her partner.

  “Bastards! Get off! Ow!”

  Kane wasn’t faring as well as Asaron. The writhing figure on the ground under two others in dark clothing must be him. A last stranger held the reins of both horses, a crossbow slu
ng across his back.

  Toria crouched and placed her left hand on the ground. She pushed a small tendril of power out through her palm and into the earth, threading beneath the water. Nature provided the current, and the water surged through her magical net.

  She had never tried this particular tactic before, so she wasn’t prepared for the spontaneous rush of energy that backwashed along her line of power. She shunted the overload back into the earth, a quick and dirty way to discharge power.

  Kane’s steady stream of insults cut off when he howled in pain. That overrode Toria’s instincts and instead of the earth, she shoved the power through the constant link binding her with Kane.

  Her physics didn’t fail her. The sudden influx of electrical power caused a negative reaction with Kane’s shields and shocked his attackers off him with a few hundred volts of electrical power. Her professors would be proud.

  The real-world result was messier. The last of the power overloaded Kane’s shields and rebounded to Toria, and the world went black.

  Mikelos paused inside the Twilight Mists to let the bass of the music reverberate through his body. Ten o’clock was still early by youth and nocturnal standards, so the club was filling up. He inhaled in appreciation, capturing the scent of an old building that had seen sweat and smoke and music for over a hundred years. The new owners of the club had updated the décor, but the place still held many fond memories.

  He first trained in classical music three hundred years ago, but time had broadened his tastes. His younger Roman street-rat self would sing anything for a penny or bread crust. His famous self once refused to play accompaniment for an operatic soprano who might be more popular than he. Now he appreciated the modern beats and synthetic sounds not possible from a classical orchestra. In his old age, he had relaxed and learned how to have fun. After he left his violin case and messenger bag with the disinterested coat check girl, Mikelos headed straight for the dance floor.

  Many of the patrons were students from the high school and university enjoying the start of summer break. Toria would have known more of the people in the club, but he did receive waves from the group of young werewolves in human form lounging on couches in a corner and recognized a lone elf already spinning across the dance floor in the center of the club. What was her name? Lyri? Syri?

  He reached the elven girl during a song change. She paused at his approach, though her hips still swayed in time to the subtle beat.

  Mikelos put on his best court manners and gave her a sweeping bow. “May I join you, milady?”

  She looked him over. She appeared to be about Toria’s age, not much older than twenty. In reality, she must be closer to Mikelos’ three centuries. “It would be my pleasure, daywalker.”

  With a cascade of harsh drumbeats, the music launched into a faster rhythm. Mikelos caught the girl’s hand and spun her around to the whistles of the wolves. Other dancers began to leave the floor, leaving them plenty of room. Mikelos thought nothing of it, instead taking advantage of the space to spin his partner around.

  He’d started relaxing into the rhythm when the speakers cut out, leaving a ringing silence after the loud music. Mikelos and the girl froze. Two men approached them, Radek and the second, burlier, Twilight Mists bouncer.

  “We need to ask you and your friend to leave,” the unfamiliar one said. Standing behind the bouncer, Radek shot Mikelos a helpless look.

  “I’m sorry, were we dancing inappropriately?” He directed his question to Radek. Not much was too inappropriate at this club, and that was part of the appeal.

  The other bouncer answered in Radek’s place. “New company policy.”

  Next to Mikelos, the girl heaved an aggravated sigh. “You have got to be kidding me. Here, too?”

  She was right. Fabbri’s prejudice was spreading. This was ridiculous. Mikelos hated to play this card, but— “You do know who I am, right?”

  “You’re not human, and that’s all we need to know.”

  “I’m sorry, Mikelos, Syri,” Radek said, “but there’s nothing I can do. You need to leave.”

  “Well, shall we?” Mikelos offered his elbow to Syri.

  “Wait, you’re giving in?” she said, ignoring his gesture. “Can’t you call Victory? I know what she’d have to say about this happening in her club.”

  “But it’s not hers anymore, remember?” Every occupant in the club stared at the confrontation. The wolves rose to their feet in unison. This could get ugly, and he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “C’mon.” When she started to protest again, Mikelos took her arm and walked toward the coat check.

  When he passed them, one of the werewolves grabbed his shoulder. “We can’t tolerate this.”

  “We can and we will, at least for tonight,” Mikelos said. “You know that jerk is going to order you guys out next.”

  “Two guys.” He bared his teeth in the bouncers’ direction. “We could take them.”

  “I can’t order you to leave with me, but I can tell you that starting a fight would be a really bad idea.” Mikelos pulled out of the werewolf’s grip. “Victory’s in council right now, figuring out how to put an end to this. Beating the crap out of some humans tonight would only hurt what she’s trying to do.” He said the last bit through gritted teeth.

  The wolf looked at his three friends, then at the elf. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Fine,” he said. “We’re with you, for now. Let’s go.”

  With all in the silent club still staring at them, Mikelos led the wolves and elf to the coat check. The girl yawned while she handed over everyone’s possessions before returning to her book, and they left. Both bouncers followed the small group all the way to the exit, shutting them out with a resounding bang.

  Once they rounded the corner back toward the center of town, the elven girl stopped in her tracks. “No way,” she said. “Why would they let us in just to toss us back out? I’m going back.” She turned, and two of the wolves snagged her by the arms.

  “No,” Mikelos said, voice firm, “you’re not. I was serious when I said that Victory was working on this right now.”

  She pulled out of the wolves’ clutches. “You’d better be right, daywalker. The elves won’t stand for this.”

  “You think the wolves will, girl?” The lone female werewolf sniffed in disdain. “Tristan in on this with Victory?”

  “As far as I know, they’re all working on the problem,” Mikelos said. “I’m sure the results of tonight’s council meeting will be spread. If the problem isn’t dealt with, then we can think about taking more drastic measures.”

  “I should hope so.” With that, the elven girl spun on her heel and stalked down the street.

  “Syri got dumped right before you got to the club,” the female wolf said to Mikelos. “She’s having a crappy night. Otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to dance with you.”

  “Oh, that’s nice to know.” The evening was getting stranger by the minute. “I guess I’ll go camp out by the council building and wait for Victory. Take care, all.”

  The lead wolf clasped hands with Mikelos, and they said their goodbyes before heading away. Mikelos watched them fade into the darkness before making his own way through the deserted Limani night.

  Since they met after normal business hours and the rest of the building had cleared out, the council locked the front door. Mikelos didn’t mind waiting outside in the pleasant night. He settled onto the wide stone steps leading up to the Grecian building and started his new book, but the silence grated on him. A little music wouldn’t hurt anyone in the quiet business district. He flipped the latches on his violin case and drew the instrument out with reverence.

  He got bored with fingering drills after a few minutes and switched into a reel. But a reel could not be played sitting down, and soon Mikelos stood at the top of the steps. After the reel, he s
lowed it down and launched into a more classical piece, one of the first he had ever played in concert. Lit by the council hall’s permanent spotlights, the building behind him transformed into a full orchestra, the street became an adoring audience. In the corner of his field of vision, he could almost see the flashing bow of Connor’s cello.

  “Hey, freak.”

  His bow skittered across the strings with a harsh shriek. Mikelos lowered the violin to his side before facing his unwelcome visitor. The unfamiliar bouncer from the Twilight Mists came up the side steps, with an even more pronounced sneer.

  “Can I help you?” Had the guy followed him here? Mikelos didn’t want a confrontation while this tired. Not on the council steps.

  The bouncer took a step forward, forcing Mikelos to back away down a step. Not his first choice of action, but the guy had horrid breath tinged with alcohol. So, drinking on the job and leaving early. What were the new owners of the club letting their employees get away with these days?

  “I don’t appreciate the way you talked to me back there.” The bouncer looked down his nose at Mikelos. “You need to learn some respect for your superiors.”

  Mikelos stifled his laugh. “Thank you for informing me, then. I’ll keep that in mind.” He moved toward his bags but meaty hands shoved at his chest. Mikelos pinwheeled his arms for balance and backed down another few steps.

  The other man followed, staying too close for comfort.

  Not good. “Now that was uncalled for, sir,” Mikelos said. He couldn’t fight with his violin in hand, and taking his eyes off the man to place the violin and bow down seemed a bad idea.