The hair on her skin stood on end as the grandmaster spoke. The exact same words Nandor said… how? How had he guessed them so easily?
He sensed her discomfort, and waved a hand. The lights flickered and slowly changed again. “I am afraid, Nix, that I am not one of the lucky few in possession of one of Wagfrost’s aura detector’s. I don’t even own one of the early models. He created them and sold them very selectively, and he only ever gifted them to those he cared deeply about. They were his life work. The epical of his magical craftsmanship. Wagfrost and I were on good terms, but he never admired me greatly enough for such a gift. Like Nandor, he was a rather independent man, with odd tastes.”
Nixie’s shoulders fell. All her hope had been pinned on one little unlikely gamble. She felt foolish, and she had no idea where to start. Without something to track Nandor, it seemed a hopeless quest.
But grandmaster Forojen interrupted her dreary thoughts with a steady gaze. “Don’t be so glum, girl. I said that I don’t own one of Wagfrost’s aura detectors. I did not say that I didn’t own one.”
Her eyes suddenly shot up, “But I was taught that Wagfrost was the only one to ever create them?”
“Which is true,” the grandmaster allowed, nodding. “Until very recently. I’ve been pouring over his notes and his journals for a while now, and I believe I finally cracked the code.” With a casual hand, he reached into his robe pocket, and removed a pair of goggles, a slight pink gleam hitting their frame from a certain light. He pushed them forward before Nix, and she looked at them with awe.
Similar runes to the ones on Nandor’s aura spectacle were etched around the frame, but the glimmer of magic wasn’t as subtle. It was more… crude, for lack of a better term. The grandmaster sensed her hesitation. “The craftsmanship isn’t as good as Wagfrost’s to be sure. I doubt anyone will ever make something quite as good as he did. But it is suitable. Go ahead,” he urged, “try them on.”
She held the goggles up to her eyes, and instantly saw a familiar sight. Colors overwhelmed her vision. Red—red was everywhere. It was a thick, bloody color, and unlike any other aura she had ever seen before. It came in great spurts and splatters and it pulsed like a pumping vein, twirling all around grandmaster Forojen. By her side, she saw the aura of Dobry. His was not as intimidating. It was a mellow yellow and green color, shifting from one direction to the other, at uncertain times.
She lifted up her hands and took the goggles off, instantly impressed. The detail was nearly as good as the one made by Wagfrost. “It’s marvelous. I can’t believe you created this in your spare time!”
The grandmaster humbly nodded. It was a feat to be sure. He had his duties as the leader of the college, the students to attend to, and the city to help, yet he still found the time to create something so difficult… if he had been a full-time headmaster of enchantment, there was no telling what the limits of his powers might have been. Not for the first time, Nix found herself wondering if the old and powerful man was the most talented magician to ever grace Froj.
“The goggles aren’t as good as you are thinking them,” he confessed. “No doubt you have worn Nandor’s spectacle in your travels together, and you saw their power. My creation is… well… it’s somewhat muted. The colors are vibrant, and true, and I take pride in that, but it can’t detect auras and traces of them nearly as well as those crafted by Wagfrost are said to. I find that on most days I’m lucky if I can track an aura that’s lingered for even a few hours, let alone a few days. Since Nandor has been gone for nearly three, and he was at the end of his life, I’m not sure how helpful the goggles will be in your search.”
Forojen looked doubtful, but Nix only smiled. “You have no need to fear on that account, Grandmaster.” Her grin grew. “Nandor has the strongest aura I’ve ever seen. It can last for years.”
“Years?” Grandmaster Forojen looked doubtful. “Maybe with a strong aura detector made by Wagfrost… but with mine?”
“Yours may not be as powerful, but I’m certain that it will be strong enough.” She met his eyes, “Trust me. You have no idea the strength of Nandor’s aura. It is overpowering…” Her head tilted, “Not unlike yours, actually. Although his was more… eh…” Suddenly she realized she had backed herself into a corner. She was going to say pretty, but found that it was uncomfortable to say.
The grandmaster broke the silence, not bothering to ease his words. “You found him attractive. From inside to out, and his aura irradiated his soul. There is no need to explain yourself. I understand,” Forojen laughed softly. Dobry looked as uncomfortable as Nix felt.
Another silence followed, and Forojen broke it again. “Very well. You may have the goggles, for as long as you require them. Is there anything else I can do to aid you in your search?”
She thought carefully on his question. If everything went well, the aura detecting goggles would lead her right to Nandor—for better or for worse. But, as her previous adventures had testified, things rarely went as planned. “Provisions and food. Also, I have very little money.”
“Yes, I recall that you come from humble beginnings. No disrespect intended.” He shuffled a small pile of coins towards her, and then began to write a note. After he was finished, he passed it to her as well. “Take the note to the cantina, and you should be supplied with as much as you require. I would be discreet about it, though. There will be many hungry hands in these uncertain times.”
Nix recalled Gevor’s assault with a shiver. She understood the grandmaster’s meaning. “That should be everything I need then.”
“Not quite, young lady.” Forojen held up a hand. “I am sure you are very capable, and wise enough to be cautious, but even still, the city is unsettled after the loss, and now there are monstrous men who prowl the streets, even during the light of day. You need a companion.”
“I’ll be fine,” she tried to put his worries at ease, but he would have none of it.
“No. For my sake, at least, you need someone to accompany you. I would not sleep well knowing that you were wandering the city alone. Remember,” he told her doubtful gaze, “I’m invested in your quest now too. I deserve a say.”
With a reluctant nod, she agreed. “Who did you have in mind?”
The grandmaster’s eyes fell to the scholar beside her. “Young master Dobry seems to have taken a liking to you. I see no reason for you two to be separated.”
Dobry’s face flushed, and Nix looked tentative. A scholar? Hardly a protector… why not stick me with an elementalist, or an electric mechanic at the least?
“Don’t doubt him, Nix,” Forojen read her thoughts. “He is stronger than he looks. And Dobry, don’t doubt yourself. You wouldn’t have arisen this far if you were lacking in talents.”
They exchanged a glance. Did Dobry know that when he accompanied me today he would end up joining me on my quest? She gazed into his eyes. He appeared innocent. Perhaps he was just a good liar.
“Now, I have many matters to attend to in the morning, and I am even older than I look, and need my rest. I wish you two well on your journey, and I hope against all odds that you find what you seek, and that Nandor is somehow alive.” As they stood from the crystal table, he gave Nix one last look. “If Nandor has found a way to survive his great wounds, then he may not be the same man you expect. Be prepared for anything, Nix. It may be possible to survive being on the brink of death, but the methods required to do so would be rather… unsavory. I have a sneaking suspicion that it is an odd expedition you have in front of you, but I wish you well all the same.”
With his cautionary words, Dobry and Nix departed his home, and stood in the chill mountain air. It was dark out, and the many stars were only overshadowed by the lingering moons.
“Well, I suppose we best get started,” Nix whispered in the dark.
“At night?” Dobry was dubious.
“You heard the grandmaster,” Nix replied, securing the goggles on her head. “His aura detector isn’t very strong. The sooner we get to th
e healers house, the better our odds of success.”
Dobry grudgingly nodded at her logic. “Okay, but we get supplies first.”
“Agreed,” Nix replied, and then they departed.
Chapter 8: A Labor of Love
The pursuit of immortality is the most noble of goals.
— Rorgjor’s Ancient Teachings
“Don’t do anything brash, my organic darlings,” a robotic voice cooed its warning.
The mercenary hired to protect the merchant gripped his sword confidently. “Why? What do you want? Who sent you to attack us?” he asked.
The bot smiled. Its opponent was a lively being. Strong, attentive, wary and poised. A true specimen. In other circumstances, the nobleman would have spent his coin well on his protection. But the bot had upgraded itself over the weeks, after it had become independent, and it no longer feared humans. Certainly not as much as it once had.
“My dear squishy mortal,” the bot shook its head sadly. “No one sent me. I have come here of my own free will, isn’t it obvious? I am a free bot.”
“A free bot?” The mercenary did not slacken his grip. “What would a free bot want with a merchant’s wares?”
The bot tilted its head. The mercenary clearly was not well-versed in the function of Jack-Bots. “Perhaps I simply wish the same as any human bandit?” it offered, toying with the guard’s dull misunderstanding. “Perhaps I wish to steal your client’s riches, so that I myself can become wealthy. Maybe I wish to own a beautiful home of my own, and have a score of lovely little wives to do as I say. Same as any man. Did that ever occur to you?” the bot smiled sarcastically.
The guard was unsure of what to think. He risked a backwards glance at the merchant he was guarding. For his part, the merchant was bemused, but smiling at the absurdity.
The merchant spoke next, not hiding the morbidity in his tone. “Perhaps you do, robot. But somehow I doubt that wives and riches are on your mechanical mind. Tell me truly, and I might consider sparing you. Why are you trying to rob me?”
Dorin considered its options, waving its saw from side to side. I could just attack and turn them into a lovely pile of red mush and broken bones… it would be more parts to work with… but maybe I’ve been a little too careless lately. I doubt Nandor would approve of my methods… not that he’s here to stop me either. With a dubious smile, it made its decision. “Ah, fine. You saw through my lie, you clever merchant scallywag. Being mechanical and bloodless, without the need for warmth or comfort, I have little use for gold or wives. But I do have a use for those rare mystic life stones you sell to the colleges, and therefore, I do so wish to relieve you of their burden.”
Something about the way the bot spoke made the merchant uncomfortable. It was the frankness of the bot’s words, and its certainty. It was as if the robot knew it would get its desire, and there wasn’t a thing in the world that could stop it. But the merchant hid his fears well. “Ah. Mystic life stones… an interesting choice. If you don’t mind my asking,” the merchant gestured around the empty road of ice. There was no one in sight, and even the air seemed to be standing still. “Seeing as how we have no hurry to settle this conflict, perhaps you could explain to me why you might wish to take my valued stones?”
The bot considered the question. It was odd to see a human genuinely interested in conversing with a mechanical creature. Even a Jack-Bot. Dorin appreciated the attention, and it made it somewhat sympathetic to the merchant. Perhaps, if it could help it, it would not kill him. “I wish for the stones so that I might revive a man nearing death. I have tried everything—transplants, transfusions, fusions, cutting, slicing, replacing, stitching, molding, drugs and stimulants, but the only thing that I’ve seen help to repair the human so far is the mystic stones of old. But the former nobles I killed were only in possession of two stones. I require more for my work.”
The merchant raised his brows. “You’ve already killed for these stones?”
“Yes,” the bot did not hesitate. “Many times. And I will kill many more if required. It is of utmost importance that the human I attend to be repaired.”
Now, it had the merchant’s full attention. He gulped, “I… I suppose if anything might be able to bring someone back, a mystic soul just might do it… but at what cost? Have you done this before? Do you know what you are doing? Do you understand the consequences of destroying mystic stones to create life?”
Dorin shrugged, “I am venturing into untested medical territories. It is expected that there should be some bumps and troubles along the path. I will deal with them as they arise.”
“How injured is your… eh… your human?”
“A healer would say beyond repair. No. That isn’t how they talk… a human healer would probably say ‘he has passed’ or ‘he is no longer with us’ but they would be wrong. And even if they would be right, I will still bring him back. It might take a while, but I am learning swiftly. I am certain of one thing: Nandor shall rise once more.”
“Nandor?” the merchant repeated the name, and became even more apprehensive. “You don’t mean the Nandor that dueled Lord Viken?”
“The same!” the bot chirped, proud that his friend was remembered.
The merchant did not share his enthusiasm. “Why would you wish to bring back that man? He damned Froj into ruin!”
The creatures flaming eyes darkened. It did not like to hear Nandor’s name so casually tarnished. “I see it differently, fleshy mortal. He was trying to find a path of peace—a mistake, but even the best of us have our missteps. I suspect, when I bring him back, he will learn from his failures, and no longer try to foolishly dissuade humans from their conflicts. He will see that I am right. That war is the way of the world, and that killing is just a way of settling disagreements.” It whirled the saw on its arm and it hummed viciously. “Do you take my meaning?”
“I—” the merchant looked downwards, reassessing the threat. Dorin was a small Jack-Bot, and not intimidating at first glance. It wore a top-hat, a shining spectacle, and a blue scarf, but was otherwise a naked pile of humanoid metal and gears. The saw attached to its left arm was the only immediate threat the merchant could see. It was a cruel weapon, powered by chains, quickly rotating gears, and sharpened to perfection. Steam shot from the creatures mouth and ears, and a glow burned bright from its eyes and chest.
But upon further examination, the bot was better protected than most. The majority of mechanical creatures were carefully built to be easily destructible, just in case they turned hostile. Yet, Dorin was plated in more than just copper and bronze. There were steel plates covering its vital pipes and oil reserves. It had been modified, and recently, by the looks of it. Even a sharp sword swung by a strong man would be hard pressed to damage the creature, if not carefully aimed.
The merchant waved his guard closer, and whispered something in his ear. Then he opened a pouch from his pack of wares, hauled on the sled behind him. “If I give you all the mystic stones I have, will you let me go free of harm?”
The bot nodded, “Yes. I am reasonable—quite more so than many humans I have dealt with. If a threat is not imminent, and the conflict is easily resolvable, I will take what I require and go.”
“Then you may have what you desire.” He waved for Dorin to come closer.
The bots eyes glanced from the merchant to the guard. It walked forward, and recognized the danger of the situation immediately. The guard was positioned a few steps aside, and the merchant was waving, encouraging Dorin to come closer. They weren’t being reasonable. They thought they were being… clever. They were wrong.
It grinned, and pretended to fall for the bait.
It slowly closed the vents on its body, a subtle movement to untrained eyes, and walked up to the merchant. “You give me the stones, and there will be no trouble.” It met the merchant’s deceitful eyes, giving him one last opportunity to see reason.
But the merchant was infatuated with his own wares, and snapped his fingers, shouting eagerly, “
Why would I give away my most valuable wares, foolish creature! Uljor—attack!”
A blade from behind swung towards Dorin with surprising speed, but it was ready for the attack. It held up its right arm where a steel shield-like plate protruded and blocked the blow with perfect timing, then it unleashed the vents on its body, obscuring the area in a cloud of steam.
Humans have a hard time seeing through the dense cloud, but Dorin had never experienced any problems with it. As the two fumbled around, trying their best to attack and defend, it laughed at their clumsy swings.
It could not help but take a small amount of pleasure in its work. It sliced, it cut, it disemboweled and disfigured the two men in the mist. And then, just for good measure, it taunted their failure, “This is the price you pay for underestimating Dorin Mechic Larnorjs! Jack-Bot of Froj! Freed from my bonds by a human who recognized my worth! Perhaps you see your mistake now, you treacherously predictable mortals!”
Naturally, the screaming men at its feet had no intelligible reply. They were more preoccupied with their lost limbs, and their newly acquired holes and slices. But their screaming would not last for long. The bot saw no need for pointless suffering, and though these humans had proved to be treacherous, it did not blame them for their foolish ways.
Dorin had dealt with many humans in its one-hundred-and-fifty years of service, and it had grown quite accustom to their error ridden ways. It ended their lives with its saw buzzing along on their throats, and then, it retrieved the items it had been promised.
It hoped that the bag of rare stones would be enough to bring back Nandor, but somehow, it knew that its task would not be so easy. It sensed that many more humans would have to die before Nandor could rise once more.
But it was no matter.
The bot rather enjoyed its labor.
Chapter 9: Simple Troubles
I do not trust him. Not fully. I never have. There is too much uncertainty.
The Crystal College Page 5