The world flashed white. Brandt staggered to one knee. His vision cleared. Spittle flew from his lips, slowed, and stopped. No, it still fell, but at such a slow pace, the image held him captive. He gaped at it in wonder. He waved his hand beneath it, back and forth numerous times as it fell in a white trail, ever so slowly. His heart still hammered, a rapid beat matched by the surges of energy that ran throughout his body, causing his muscles to twitch as if they yearned to do something – anything.
He stood upright and turned toward the guards. They appeared frozen in place. Some even had their eyes closed. Frowning, he stared at them and wondered why everything had become so very silent. The eyes of one of the soldiers began to drift shut as if he were growing tired. In contrast, the guard beside him began to open his eyes at the same, drawn out pace. Like a fogged window wiped clean, the obscured view before Brandt became clear. Those men are blinking, he thought. A blink for them is an eternity for me. Realization of his advantage struck. He grinned, and he ran.
His steps were a blur, fluid and effortless. Rather than running toward his opponents, he ran back to the bin of coal and grabbed the shovel leaning against it. As quick as thought, he crossed the room and stopped before the enemy.
His attack began with a guard at one end, smashing the shovel into the man’s hand. The sword arm moved during the contact and then froze, his grip loosening and the sword pointing toward the floor as it began to slip from his grip. Brandt moved to the next guard and drove the butt of the shovel handle into his stomach. The third received a blow to the head. The fourth had his legs swept out from beneath him. Brandt actually laughed aloud when he saw the man seemingly floating in the air, his body twisted in mid flop.
When Brandt came to a guard holding what Jarlish had called a musket, he saw a burst of green flame oozing from the barrel. From the flame, a black chunk of metal emerged, sailing toward Quinn. With a desperate upswing, he smacked the metal ball with the shovel blade, altering its path, the trajectory now toward the third-story balcony.
He spun and smacked the man with the musket in the head before continuing down the line. By the time he had dealt a blow to each of the armed guards, the sword tip of the first man was striking the floor. Brandt’s grin resurfaced. This is fun.
The twenty-two guards were all in various states of succumbing to his attack – some doubled over as if about to vomit, others collapsing with their faces etched in pain, others hanging in the air, horizontal as they fell. They are helpless against me. He then remembered his mission, and the grin slid away. We need to destroy this place and get out of here.
Bolting toward the heart of the courtyard, Brandt stopped before a forge. He stuck his shovel into the coals, shying his face away in the process. The heat was intense. When he withdrew the shovel, orange glowing coals rested on the blade. He turned and walked back to where Quinn waited, still kneeling with her blades pressed against the floor. A glance toward the guards revealed some now striking the floor, joining weapons that already lay there.
Brandt lifted the shovel high over the trail of flash powder. With a prayer on his lips, he tilted it and released the hot coals. He tossed the shovel aside, turned toward Quinn, and lifted her up. It took some wrangling to get her over his shoulder without cutting himself on her swords. He then turned to find the coals, still falling, now four feet above the floor. It’s time to run. So he ran.
He shot the gap between the falling guards, sped out the door, and flew into a hallway with a number of doors on each side, some of them open. Shop workers stood in one doorway, peering toward the courtyard he had just vacated. More guards were at the far end of the corridor, a man and a woman both frozen in mid stride as they ran into the building. He slowed and slid behind the running guards, through the open door, and found himself outside.
The portcullis was a quarter of the way lowered, and he panicked. They are trying to seal the castle!
With Quinn still on his shoulder, he ran toward the gate in a blur until the world lurched, coming back to life. The portcullis dropped a few feet, and a rush of noise arose. As quickly as it had begun, the noise stopped, replaced by hollow silence when the portcullis slowed and the world froze in place. He continued running, fearful that the augmentation was fading. Another lurch and the gate fell further, the clatter of the chains a roar. The guards turned toward him, alarm in their eyes as they, again, froze. The gate was mere strides away, and he ran harder, but experienced another lurch, this one more dramatic. As if waking from a dream, the world came back to life – a fast, furious, and noise-filled existence. The energy fled from Brandt and left him gasping, staggering as he stumbled through the gate.
The portcullis slammed down a step behind him, the force of it knocking a blade from Quinn’s hand. A massive series of thumping explosions erupted from the castle. A blast of heat struck Brandt from behind, the concussion of the blast shaking his bones. He fell face-first, dumping Quinn to the road with an “Oof.”
The world darkened, and the darkness called to him. Exhaustion held his body captive and left him unable to move. Quinn shifted beneath him and pushed him off her. He rolled to his back, opened his eyes, and blinked. Stars dotted the evening sky, beyond an orange glow from the castle ground. His thoughts were sluggish, his vision clouded, as if he were half-asleep. When he turned his head, he found the wall a short distance away, the sky above it churning with smoke lit by the raging inferno beneath it. To his other side, Quinn was rising to her feet, holding a sword in one hand, her head in the other. A section of the castle appeared in the sky, spinning as it fell and landed in the brush beside the road. The thump of it striking the ground was massive, reigniting the urgency within Brandt.
With a concerted effort, he rolled over and rose to his hands and knees. His breath was ragged, his muscles weak – shaking as if he had not eaten in days. Looking through the portcullis, he saw a tower of flames, hundreds of feet in the sky. The men on the wall began shouting. Brandt tried to stand and fell. Quinn’s hand appeared. He gripped it, allowing her to help him to his feet.
“What happened? How’d we escape?” Quinn asked as he rose to his feet.
“I’ll explain later.” He placed his feet in a broad stance, wobbling. “We need to get out of here.”
She turned toward the wall as the shouts resumed. Her eyes grew wide, and she scurried back to the downed portcullis to retrieve her fallen sword. She sheathed them both before turning toward him. A loud bang came from atop the wall and Quinn cried out, staggering as she held her arm. She hurried toward him, and he saw blood dripping from her shoulder.
“Run!” She said as she passed him.
Brandt hobbled forward, down the hillside road. He moved as fast as he could muster, but his strength was sapped, his energy a shadow of what was normal.
Quinn looked back at him, still holding her arm as she ran down the hill. Another shot echoed in the night, joined by the squeaking pulleys from the portcullis rising. After rounding a bend, they reached a point where the road branched.
“Which way?” Quinn slowed at the intersection.
“Let’s try the left route,” he shouted as he caught up to her.
She bolted left and continued down the hill with him trailing behind. Down and down, they went, him thankful to have gravity’s assistance while also concentrating on keeping his feet under him, fearful of falling face-first. Doing so would likely be a death sentence.
Shouts arose behind them, growing louder. Brandt wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. If Quinn hadn’t been with him, he might have done just that. Since she needed him, he ran.
A few minutes later, the ground began to level and another sound emerged – a low rush. Water, he thought. I hear water. He was thirsty. So thirsty. Water sounded wonderful.
More shouts came from behind him, drawing even closer.
The sound grew louder as a river came into view, white rapids visible in the starlight. The river ran along the road, and Brandt kept looking toward it, his thir
st demanding to be quenched. He noticed an oddly shaped silhouette resting along the bank. Slowing, he stared toward it until he realized what it was.
“Quinn,” he gasped as he came to a stop. She stopped and turned around as he pointed toward the river. “There’s a boat. Let’s take it. I can’t run any longer.”
Without a word, she ran toward the boat with Brandt scrambling to reach it. He gripped one side of the bow, pushing while she pushed from the other side. It took a bit of rocking, but they freed it from the bank and slid the stern into the water.
“Get in,” he said.
Quinn climbed in and sat as he pushed, stepping into the water before he jumped atop the bow, balancing with his stomach on the lip. Using his last tendrils of energy, he pulled himself forward and fell in.
The current swept them away. Shouts arose.
“They took the boat! Shoot them!”
A bang in the night was joined by a thud when a shot hit the boat. Quinn ducked, joining Brandt on the floor of the rowboat. More shots rang out, another hitting the side of the boat, more splashing into the river. The shouts soon faded and were replaced by the soothing rush of water. Exhaustion overcame Brandt’s fear, and sleep welcomed him
30
Colossus
Rhythmic bursts of air puffed from the Chaos pump, the sound echoing off the walls of the barren stone chamber. Everson stared into the steaming bath waters, watching the trail of bubbles rising to the surface. A chain of interconnected bamboo ran from the pump, into the water, bending and flexing as Henrick repeatedly crossed the deep end of the pool.
After ten minutes below the water’s surface, the metal and glass dome that encased Henrick’s head popped up with water spilling from it. His shoulders and torso followed as he strode into the shallow end of the pool. When Henrick reached the water’s edge, he unbuckled the straps that secured the oversized helmet to the harness he wore. He then gripped the helmet, twisted it a quarter turn, and lifted it off his head, the bamboo tubing connected to the rear of the helmet coming with it.
Henrick shook his head as he set the helmet on the floor beside the pool. “It worked wonderfully. Your Chaos-charged air pump is exactly what I needed. I never once struggled to breath.”
Everson moved to the pump and flipped a lever, the pump falling quiet. “I’m glad to have helped. I was sure that compressing air into the tubes would alleviate the breathing problem you were facing.”
Climbing the stairs, Henrick sat at the edge of the bath and began removing the harness. “Yes, before this, I’d find myself gasping after about a minute and was ready to faint after two minutes. That just wouldn’t be enough time to explore a wreck.”
Everson’s gaze shifted to Henrick’s odd boots, dangling in the water. “It appears that the added weight helped as well.”
Henrick lifted a leg, grunting as the boot emerged from the water. The soles were four inches thick. “Yes. The buoyancy now appears balanced. The Increase Gravity Infusion was exactly what I needed. The boots aren’t too heavy to walk with while under water, but they weigh enough to keep me on the ocean floor.”
With the harness unstrapped, Henrick set it aside, his wet tunic now clinging to his overweight body. He then began loosening the straps on his weighted boots. While watching this, Everson pictured Henrick walking on the ocean floor, trailed by a length of Elastic infused bamboo tubing.
“You’ll need more augmented bamboo to make the air lines long enough for deeper dives,” Everson noted.
“That should be easy enough. I have the bamboo, I just need the augmentations applied.” Henrick’s face twisted in a grimace as he pulled on a boot, grunting. It popped free and he set it on the floor beside the harness. “My main concern is getting back to the surface when I’m eighty feet down.”
Everson considered the idea and thought of the lifts he had installed in the Atrium. The same mechanism wouldn’t work under water. However, the water’s natural buoyancy might make it easier to lift the weight. His gaze fell on the air pump and an idea struck. “We could build a Chaos-powered winch. With a rope connected to your harness, someone above the water could engage the winch and lift you up.”
With the second boot removed, Henrick stared at Everson, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. That could work.” A grin crossed Henrick’s face. “It’s happening, Ev. My dream of exploring the ocean depths is coming to fruition.” He stood, his wet clothes dripping water on the stone floor. “Just think of what might be waiting down there. Reefs. Fish. Sea life we know nothing about. And, best of all, shipwrecks.”
A chuckle arose from Everson, feeding off Henrick’s excitement. “It does sound amazing. You’re right about shipwrecks. I bet there are ships that sank a thousand or more years ago. Just imagine what we might learn from them.” Everson removed the clamp that secured the air lines to the pump, handing the tubing to Henrick, who began to gather it in coils. “We know little of civilization’s history from before the founding of the Empire. That event was little more than two hundred years ago.” Excitement about the idea began to bubble inside him, capturing his imagination.
“Yes. You understand.” A grin spread across Henrick’s face, and he clapped Everson on the back. “Now you see it – why this has been my dream for years. Not only can we explore an entire new world under the sea, but we can also explore mankind’s past.”
“Well, it’s a valid pursuit, Henrick. Despite the nasty events transpiring in the world, I am glad to see someone focused on advancing our knowledge of the world and of ourselves. I’m glad I could help, if even just for a bit.”
Henrick nodded. “Thanks again, Everson.” He turned and stored his diving gear into a crate. Bending down, he lifted the crate, grunting and staggering under the weight. “I’ll come back later for the boots.”
Everson scooped his hands beneath the air pump, held it with both arms, clutching it to his chest, and headed toward the exit. Opening the door, he held it while Henrick hurried past. The duo then walked along the basement corridor, past the interrogation rooms, and to the stairwell. Henrick led Everson down the main floor corridor. Stopping outside a storage room, Henrick set the crate down and unlocked the door.
The door swung open to reveal a small storage room. Shelves lined one wall, housing earlier attempts at underwater helmets and a few other odds and ends. A coil of bamboo tubing hung beside the shelves, above a workbench covered by various hand tools.
Henrick pushed the tools aside and gestured toward the bench. “You can leave the pump here.”
Everson placed the pump on the bench, happy to be free of the weight. The pump wasn’t big, but it was made of metal – cylinders, a flywheel, actuators, and housing – and that added to its load. A Chaos-charged chunk of stone also powered the pump, a chunk sizeable enough that Everson expected it could run for days before it needed a new charge.
“I had best head back to the Forge.” Everson moved to the open doorway, glancing backward. “Ivy will have my hide if I make her work alone the whole day.” A reflection on the floor drew his attention. “Don’t slip on the puddle you just created.”
Henrick looked down at his bare feet. “Yeah. I’ll clean this up and change into some dry clothing.”
Everson left Henrick’s storage room and headed down the hall, his thoughts shifting toward his own project. It was still occupying his thoughts when he opened the door and entered the Forge.
Unoccupied work areas waited at the near end of the building. Everson paid them little attention, instead focusing on the massive machine that stood at the heart of it all. Other than Henrick, every gadgeteer at the Ward had been recruited to help finish the creation.
Ivy stood on a scaffold beside the invention, shouting out directions to an older gadgeteer named Julian. Short, scrawny, and petite, Julian had notably angular eyes and favored wearing an odd, cone-shaped hat with a wide brim, even when he was inside. Currently wearing said hat, the man stood at the controls of a steam-powered lift. When the custo
mized catapult he was raising neared the pulley at the top, Julian stopped the motor and the object stopped rising. Two other engineers, a quiet woman named Frieda and a chunky man named Willard, pulled the guide rope and the pulley slid down the track, toward the scaffold where Ivy waited.
Everson stopped beside the scaffold and gazed upon the converted steam engine. The machine now appeared very different than it had before the project began. A second set of wheels now joined the first set, creating eight wheels in all. The outer band of each wheel had been modified, first with nubs that added traction, then with an Elastic augmentation that added grip and reduced road vibration.
His gaze rose to the massive metal plates covering the front of the contraption. That wedge, as Everson liked to call it, had been Ivy’s idea. The Reduce Gravity and Elastic augmentations added to the wedge lightened the weight and made it almost indestructible.
“Easy, now.” Ivy said in a loud, clear voice. “It’s almost in position. And…stop!”
The two gadgeteers pulling the guide lines stopped. Ivy leaned in, checking the catapult’s alignment. “Julian! Lower it carefully. Be ready to stop if I shout.”
Julian flipped a lever, and the steam engine driving the lift squealed, sending puffs of white steam into the air. And people wonder why the Forge is always so hot, Everson thought.
The catapult lowered and suddenly dropped a foot.
“Easy!” Ivy shouted. “Only a few more inches.” She pushed on it, straining as it moved sideways. “Stop!”
Ivy reached into the satchel at her hip and removed four thick bolts as she noticed Everson watching. “Everson, I didn’t see you come in. Would you mind coming up here to help me bolt this in place?”
Ugh. I should have thought of that. “Yes. I’ll be right up.”
He circled to the stairs at the far end of the scaffold. Taking high steps that made his mechanical legs whirr and hiss, he climbed up and joined her.
An Imperial Gambit (Wardens of Issalia Book 3) Page 25