Hard Magic: Book I of the Grimnoir Chronicles

by Larry Correia

  Pershing turned away from the destruction at the rail and looked the Chairman in the eye. “Maybe I was told by a Manchurian, driven gibbering mad with pain, who escaped from one of your schools with failed kanji branded all over his back?”

  The Chairman looked down at Pershing’s ring and scowled. “I see . . . Would you walk with me for a moment, Captain?”

  He hesitated. The Chairman struck him as a very dangerous man, but he was on a diplomatic mission. If any harm were to befall him, the repercussions would be severe. Japan was strong, but not strong enough to risk a war with the West . . . yet. They were still modernizing, though at a shocking pace. It would come though, he could feel it. Pershing nodded and followed the Chairman toward the end of the observation deck. Guards with bayonets mounted on their rifles bowed and moved out of their way.

  The wind was louder now that they were steaming toward Vladivostok. Pershing could smell smoke and gunpowder on the wind. “You are a knight of the Grimnoir?” the Chairman asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So the Society plans on standing against me then?”

  God, I hope so. “That’s not my place to say. I’m here representing the United States Army. But as one Active to another, what you’re doing here is wrong, Baron Tokugawa. I’ve heard about you. I know you’re like me.”

  The Chairman folded his arms. “I am far beyond you.”

  Pershing tested his Power. Baron Tokugawa’s thoughts were far too well guarded for him to get even the briefest Reading. “No good can come of this. I’m begging you. If you follow this path, it will change everything.”

  “Splendid.” He smiled for the first time. Pershing knew it was the smile of a predator. “The time for change has come. Tell your Society if they want a war, they will surely have one.”

  New York City, New York

  1908

  The last Iron Guard stood at the end of the brick tunnel. Fetid water dripped down the walls and had flooded the bottom foot of the narrow space. The Imperium man balled his hands into fists and they burst into blue flames. The water striking him turned instantly into steam and began to boil around his legs.

  “You will not pass!” the Iron Guard shouted in Japanese. “Glory to the Emperor! Glory to the Chairman!”

  Ten yards. Pershing leaned back against the damp wall and peered around the corner as he shoved more shells into his Winchester ’94. He worked the lever and chambered another round. Time was running out. The same Geo-Tel that had destroyed a thousand-mile swath of Siberia in one stroke was now targeted here and was due to fire any second. They had to get past that Iron Guard. They’d already killed three of the bastards but lost half a dozen Grimnoir in the process.

  “Sven, Bob, on my signal, hit him from the left.” Southunder and Christiansen moved quickly through the muck. Browning was still reloading his pump shotgun. “John and I will throw down some covering fire. Bill, you rush him.” The Brute, Jones, just nodded his head vigorously, his courage surely fortified with alcohol.

  “What ’bout me?” Traveling Joe asked as the little man squatted behind him.

  “Once he’s distracted, you get that device and break it. No matter what.”

  He muttered something in Portuguese and disappeared.

  The famous Cog, Nikola Tesla, had given them the information about his invention. The Imperium had tricked him into building it, and had kidnapped his pigeon to keep him quiet. It drew the Power itself up from the core of the Earth and spiked it on the surface, drawn to a complicated targeting spell. They did not know where the design was drawn, but they’d been able to intercept the Iron Guards before they could flee with the device from Wardenclyffe laboratories, but rather than give it up, they’d decided to destroy themselves along with it in suicidal fire.

  The single test firing of the Geo-Tel had managed to wipe out the entire Cossack army, and now it would slag the East Coast of the United States of America.

  Not if I can help it . . .

  “NOW!” Pershing and Browning leapt into the tunnel and opened fire. The gunshots were devastatingly loud in the enclosed space. The bullets and buckshot struck, sending the Iron Guard staggering back, but his body was laced with kanji of durability and vitality. He raised one hand and blue fire erupted down the tunnel. Pershing dove into the foul water to avoid certain death.

  He was hugging the bottom when the telepathic message from the surface arrived. Blue light growing in the sky. We’ve only got seconds left. Hurry!

  Working on it, Isaiah.

  When he broke the surface, Browning was at his side shrugging out of his burning coat and holding a shotgun with a wood stock scorched from the heat. The Iron Guard was distracted by Southunder’s rapid gunfire as the other Grimnoir flanked him. The Iron Guard moved toward them, hurling fire, but jerked as the water around his legs was frozen into a solid block by Christiansen.

  The Iron Guard lowered his hands, blasting fire into the ice to free himself. Pershing had once been the best shot in the Army and showed it as he snapped the Winchester to his shoulder, lined up the front sight, and drilled the distracted Iron Guard in one eye.

  Jones crashed down the tunnel in a wave of water, his muscles driven with superhuman strength as he burned his Power. The Iron Guard was snapping around, blood spraying from one socket, kept alive only by kanji spells and fanaticism, liquid flame shooting from his fingers as Jones tackled him with a roar.

  Pershing was up and sloshing forward as he worked the lever. The Power was rising up through the ground with a crackling rage. Soon it would supercharge the atmosphere and the resulting explosion would reach from Canada to Washington D.C.

  It’s firing!

  Jones was on top of the Iron Guard, fists hammering up and down like pistons as he slammed the man’s head into a misshapen pulp. He rose, still bellowing, meat and hair dripping from his hands. “Nobody messes with Wild Bill! NOBODY!” He kicked the body down the tunnel.

  We’re all going to die.

  “Vierra!” Pershing shouted. “Break it!”

  Traveling Joe appeared with a splash next to him, holding a strange mechanical device. It was humming and crackling with Power. “You mean this?” He raised it overhead and slammed it down into the bricks, cracking it into several pieces.

  The electric tingling in the air died. The Power was returning to the core.

  It’s . . . it’s dissipating. You did it!

  “Yes . . . yes, we did . . .”

  Paris, France

  1909

  The international leadership of the Grimnoir Society had come together for the first time in a decade. The meeting room was plain, the building drab, and little would a passerby know that some of the most important people in the world had gathered there in secret.

  “General Pershing, we are honored to have you as the newest member of the international leadership. Your bravery has saved the lives of thousands.”

  He hadn’t come all this way just to get his ego stroked. “What about my proposal?”

  “As commander of the American members of the Grimnoir Society, you are aware of the mighty challenges that face us. I’m afraid that we cannot honor your request at this time.”

  Pershing pushed away from the table and stood. “Respectfully, I think you’re wrong. We need to recruit more people. Not just Actives, but anyone who has the courage to stand against the Imperium. The Chairman is our greatest threat. The time to strike is now. The longer we wait, the stronger he becomes. We need to build an army and take the fight to him. We need more knights. There’s strength in numbers.”

  “There is more strength in secrecy,” one of the younger Europeans said, his English rough, his pronunciation stilted. “War is brewing here, and I fear that our kind will be drawn into both sides. The Kaiser is already building Active units. I, for one, fear our own governments more than I fear the Japanese.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” Pershing snapped. There was a collective gasp. “The Kaiser is a Barnum clown compared to the Chairma
n. He’s no mere politician. He’s a force. The Geo-Tel events have been blamed on meteorites, but we all know what they really were.”No one in the American government believed him, but these people should understand. They had to. “What if it had been your country that was about to be evaporated?”

  “Then I would still listen to the knowledge of my elders,” the European looked to the three men at the head of the table for confirmation.

  The elders deliberated quietly amongst themselves for a moment, before the one in the middle finally spoke. “Our strategy remains the same for now. We will contain the Imperium, but we will not risk an open battle. Secrecy is paramount. General Pershing, you will protect the Geo-Tel device in the event that we ever, God help us, grow desperate enough to use it, but I do not ever foresee the need to use a weapon so terrible that its firing would be felt through the very fabric of all worlds. You will report the location only to the Grimnoir elders, in the case that something should befall you.”

  “You’re all making a terrible mistake.” Pershing stormed from the room in disgust.

  Mar Pacifica, California

  1932

  Sullivan pulled his hand away as dozens of memories flooded into his mind all at once. He remembered frustration riding in pursuit of Pancho Villa, confusion at the aftermath of Wounded Knee, the bitter soul-crushing sadness of losing his wife and three young daughters in a terrible fire, everything, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, and finally three years of unbearable suffering, but those were blurry, and had probably come over by accident. Others had been very specifically stamped into him, as harsh as the light of day. “What are you?”

  Pershing appeared even weaker than before, if that were possible. “I’m a very weak Reader. I barely qualify as an Active, but I’ve been saving up a lot of Power . . . I thought it would only be fair to try and answer your questions while I answered my own . . . Thank you. I finally got to see the Power . . . It all makes sense now.”

  “You read my mind?” Sullivan asked.

  “Yes . . .” he closed his eyes. “I was right about you. And now I must rest . . .”

  “Why’d you show me all those things?”

  Pershing’s breathing had grown shallow and erratic. “Because . . . someone must know the truth . . . Only a handful of us knew . . . about the Geo-Tel . . . I need you to destroy the final piece . . . Don’t let him get it . . . Because we have a . . . traitor in our midst . . . I can’t even trust people who are like my . . . children . . . Whoever it is . . . they’re too strong for me to Read . . . Because . . .”

  Pershing moved slowly, pushing something toward Sullivan. He took it, and found that it was one of the Grimnoir rings.

  Because you are the man for the job. Carry on.

  Pershing sent that last thought with his Power, then let out his final breath.

  “General?”

  His chest had quit moving. It was as if he’d found someone to pass the torch to, and had finally moved on. Sullivan sat there for a moment, stunned. Jane arrived a moment later, studied General Pershing’s still form and began to cry.

  Chapter 14

  You can go a long way with a smile. You can go a lot further with a smile and a gun. A smile, a gun, and a Brute get you the key to the city.

  —Al “Scarface” Capone,

  Interview, 1930

  Detroit, Michigan

  The Pale Horse awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in three years. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from his soul.

  It is done.

  Harkeness had followed Cornelius Stuyvesant to Michigan. His sources had confirmed that the billionaire had completed his assignment, and the proper modifications were being made to the Chairman’s personal airship. He could not have asked for better timing. Pershing finally succumbing to his curse on the very same day as the completion of his favor would be seen as a sign of his Power. It was a coincidence, but Stuyvesant would be terrified. Having a man such as that under his thumb could prove valuable in the future.

  Pershing had been a strong one. When Harkeness had first touched him, he had expected him to last a few months, perhaps a year at most. He had underestimated the willpower of such a man, not to mention the remarkable and surprising skill of his Healer. That thought made Harkeness swell with pride.

  This assignment had been draining, but it would be worth it. He dressed in his finest suit and took the elevator to the lobby. He would send a telegram to Isaiah. The powerful Reader would not know of Pershing’s demise until it hit the papers, but he needed to get to work. It was almost time to provide the Chairman with the location of the last piece of the Tesla device.

  Their plan was almost complete.

  Mar Pacifica, California

  Arrangements had been made to take the General’s body into the city for transport to Arlington for burial. By the next day, word would spread over the wires, and the entire nation would mourn the loss of one of their greatest heroes.

  And they only knew the half of it, Sullivan thought bitterly. He wasn’t sure if it was the recent shock of Pershing’s memories that caused him to be so angry at the powers that be and their isolationist blindness, or if it was his own memories. Either way, he had a job to do, and with a rock breaker’s dedication, he knew it was going to get done.

  The American Grimnoir were taking their leader’s loss hard. Command fell to John Moses Browning until the Society’s elders appointed someone else. Sullivan could tell that Browning didn’t want the responsibility. He was very old, but he’d fulfill his duty. Sullivan could respect that.

  They had called a meeting, and the group had gathered around a long rectangular table. Browning stood at the head, exhausted and drained. At his right hand was the stocky Lance Talon, on his left was the bespectacled Dan Garrett. Of the others, he knew Heinrich well, but he only knew the kid, Francis, from when he’d kneecapped him. Delilah had come down and sat directly across from him, but she’d only greeted him with the slightest of nods. Jane was the most distraught by the previous day’s events, but had still joined them. She sat next to Dan, who was discreetly holding her hand under the table. The last person to join them was the young girl who had shot him in the back then saved his life.

  She was an odd one. Thin, gawky, with hair like wet straw, and the strangest grey eyes he’d ever seen. She held out one little hand to him in greeting. He took it, surprised that she had calluses that would make anyone running a pickax at Rockville proud. “You look just like your brother, only not evil. Sorry about murdering you.”

  “Attempted murder,” he corrected her.

  “Oh, no, you were totally dead when I found you under the magic jellyfish,” she smiled. “Good thing you followed me back. I’m Sally Faye Vierra. You can call me Faye.” She took her seat.

  Browning got right down to business. “I have received a message from the Grimnoir elders. We are to take no action until we receive further orders.”

  “We’ve been sitting on our asses for too long,” Lance complained.

  Browning frowned, obviously not liking foul language, but used to working with Lance. “What would you have us do?”

  “We need to get out there, find Bob Southunder, and get the last piece of the Tesla device.”

  Sullivan paid careful attention. The General had been certain that one of these people had betrayed them to the Chairman.

  “Only nobody, not even the General, knows where Southunder went,” Garrett pointed out. “We have no idea how to reach him, or even if he’s alive or dead. How are we supposed to find him?”

  I can . . . Sullivan thought, realizing that he knew exactly how to find the man. Pershing had kept that secret as his ace. He kept his mouth shut.

  “If the Chairman already had the last piece, then we’d know as soon as he fired it,” Browning said. “We have to assume Southunder is still alive.”

  Faye raised her hand. “What about my Grandpa’s piece?”

  Browning shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately,
the part that was taken by Madi was the complex piece. What you have is not that important, and the Chairman’s Cogs should have no problem replacing it.”

  “Oh . . .” Faye stared at the table. “Shoot.”

  “Who let her out?” Heinrich asked.

  “I did,” Browning said. “The General Read her. She’s no Shadow Guard.”

  “I only shot Mr. Sullivan because he looks just like his big brother, Mr. Madi.”

  There was a rustle as most of the Grimnoir turned to Sullivan in surprise. He stared back at them coolly. “Yeah . . . Got a problem?”

  “Jake, is this true?” Delilah asked.

  Madi is the one that killed her dad. “He is, but I didn’t know he’d fallen in with the Imperium till yesterday. He disappeared on AEF Siberia. I hoped he’d either died or settled down somewhere. Can’t say I’m surprised though. It suits him.” Delilah looked away, seemingly stunned by that revelation, and his stomach lurched.

  “Your brother . . . is the Madi?” the kid, Francis, asked. “He’s the most powerful of the Iron Guards!”

  He shrugged his big shoulders. “You can’t choose your relatives, kid.”

  Francis turned red with embarrassment. “Yes . . . of course . . . sorry.”

  Browning continued. “It’s fine, Francis. Despite the General’s issues with your family, we’ve been able to make good use of this estate. We needed a place where we could keep the General safe during his illness. Now, I imagine we’ll need to be on the move again for our own safety. I have received word that the elders will be sending a new commander. I will step down as soon as he arrives.”