by A. R. Knight
"Nicholas made it from some of his old machines," Selena said. "He thought it would be fitting."
"You were killed with something like that," I said.
"That's why it feels right," Selena replied. "Now I need practice. A teacher."
Selena looked at me, and then out from the balcony. The occasional spark lit up the gray sky as Riven continued its constant dance. Spirits coming and going, guides finding and finishing the ones that wanted to stay. For the last few days I hadn't been filling a quota, I'd been hunting a single spirit. It would be nice to get back to the usual, until we found the Master.
"Are you ready for your first lesson?" I said.
"I've been waiting for a long time."
"Just because I love you," I said. "Doesn't mean it's going to be easy."
"Nothing with you ever is," Selena said.
Carver’s adventures continue in The Cycle.
A teaser for the next book in the Riven trilogy - The Cycle:
"You there," shouted one of the station's policeman, gesturing at me with his baton. "What's your name?"
I glanced around, pushing Anna away for me. Trying to get her some cover. I walked out of the line for the tickets, pretending not to hear. The policeman repeated his question and I kept moving. His whistle blew and I ran. Back up the steps and out onto the sidewalk. I coughed, my rapid breathing pulling too much harsh air for my lungs to cope with. I jammed on the mask, started the respirator.
The officer lunged at my back and I felt him grab my coat. I twisted with the move and shrugged him off, sending the officer tumbling to the ground. Three more were heading my direction, pounding up the station steps. So I took off.
The streets around the station showed signs of a new age for Chicago. Wooden stores and offices were being torn apart to make room for forged metal. Ever present construction. Small zeppelins carrying materials bobbed overhead, guiding people and beams to their proper places. Shifting crowds of workers in the late morning moved their mass of bodies along the streets or in the automatic taxis. Every so often, as I darted between crowds, I caught sight of one of the city's mechs, the tall two or four-legged beasts that, with stacks belching smoke, rumbled their way on patrol.
I burst through the crowd and found myself in a large intersection, bustling groups crossing in shifts to blue and red signals on ten-foot posts. At random, I went left. Down a long sidewalk that stretched in front of a row of offices claiming various legal representation. The kind of office I could probably use right about then. In front of me, as the block ended, a black metal leg pounded into view. Followed by another.
The cockpit of the mech, a half oval with a glass windshield set over the top, a pair of large guns beneath, swiveled to point my way. Its barrels trained on me, and I paused. Raised my hands.
"Carver Reed," the mech announced, the pilot's voice catching a mechanical twist coming through the machine. "You're under arrest, and any action taken without our consent will result in your immediate execution."
Also by A.R. Knight
The Mercenaries Trilogy
The Metal Man
Wild Nines
Dark Ice
One Shot
The Riven Trilogy
Riven
The Cycle
Spirit’s End
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About the Author
A.R. Knight writes sci-fi and fantasy in the frozen north of Wisconsin. With a pair of cats keeping him company, he enjoys delving into adventures that are as much about the villain as the hero.
After getting a degree in journalism and touring the country installing healthcare software, A.R. Knight thought it would be good to get back to what he loved. So now he's got a small office and early mornings to spin whatever tales come into his imagination.
When he's not writing, A.R. Knight tends to travel anywhere he can, whether that's islands off the coast of Ecuador, the rainforest, snowboarding in the Rocky Mountains, or sipping scotch in Edinburgh. That's the nice thing about the writing life, you can take it anywhere.
To contact or see what he's up to, visit www.adamrknight.com
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Acknowledgments
There’s this idea that writing is a solitary act, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Every writer depends on friends, family, and, yes, the readers to keep spinning their stories.
Specifically, I’d like to thank my wife, Nicole, who’s endless love and encouragement make every day brighter. My brothers, Jonathan, Justin, and Matthew, and parents, Bob and Mary, who help keep a smile on my face.
And, of course, all of you readers that make this life possible.
Thank you.