Hard Magic: Book I of the Grimnoir Chronicles

by Larry Correia

  Sullivan rose, firing the BAR, working it right down the opposite deck. The rate of fire was slow enough that he just gently worked it from body to body. It was a massacre. He dropped the empty mag, smoothly reloaded from a vest pocket, and put a single round into the last man still crawling.

  “Damn . . .” Parker said, peering over the perforated spotlight. “You get them all?”

  “No,” Sullivan said. Somebody had been out of his range and had ducked beyond the curve of the hull. It had been an officer, and it sounded like he might be screaming someth—

  THOOM.

  The explosion was muted as the officer committed suicide, but whatever device he’d touched off had been incendiary, intended to take everyone with him. Sudden fire licked around the curve of the bag, bright hideous orange, and it just consumed everything. The canvas began disappearing like dry grass, leaving a hideous skeleton of aluminum in its wake, and the fireball was coming right at them.

  “Ax,” Sullivan said as he yanked the little hatchet from Parker’s belt. He ran down the grating, toward the fire, and slid to a halt at the end of the catwalk. The bridge was attached by rope running through several steel grommets. He started chopping, slicing through the rope with such fury that sparks rose from the plate. Wouldn’t that be funny if a spark blew up this blimp while I was trying to—damn it—cut faster. He kept swinging with speed born of desperation.

  The wall of heat struck him, sucked the moisture from his eyes, burned his skin. The lead dirigible was curling into itself, forming a U, as the heaviest bit was in the center. Flames washed over his body as the last rope snapped free. He stumbled back with his shirt on fire, dropped the ax, and beat out the flames. The burning blimp spun downward, falling slowly, like the bright petals of a flower falling from a tree, and Sullivan swore as he realized his hair was on fire too.

  He made it back to Parker just as he saw that the skin on the nose of his dirigible was smoking. “Aw hell . . .” Simultaneously tiny bits of hissing fire appeared all down the visible seams. They were at the wrong damn end to make it off this one. The entire nose instantly disintegrated in a jet of orange flame.

  And then it just stopped.

  Sullivan looked around in disbelief, somehow still alive. Parker was slowly uncovering his eyes. The fore section of the blimp was hanging in ragged tatters, beating in the breeze, and he could feel them tilting as they lost altitude. The Japanese Torch dame was coming down the railing toward them, her eyes glowing and hair whipping in the wind.

  “Fire good!” she exclaimed, lowering her hands. The lights died and her eyes returned to normal.

  “No, sweetheart, you’re good,” Parker shouted.

  Sullivan couldn’t agree more.

  ***

  The crew of the Bulldog Marauder was efficient. They quickly searched the damaged dirigible’s cargo hold, found a few chained slaves and some valuables, loaded them into the less damaged remaining blimps, and cut away the damaged blimp so that it could sink in the ocean. Southunder left five men to drive the remains of the train south to be sold in one of the Free Cities of New Guinea, where the resistance would surely appreciate the supplies. The slaves, mostly Chinese, were put to work with the promise they’d be set free as soon as they landed.

  Sullivan joined Southunder in his stateroom, which was little more than a closet with a table sandwiched between armored bulkheads. He was getting tired of always having to duck to avoid hitting his head. There was a map on the table.

  “I buried the piece on this atoll.” Southunder stabbed his finger into the map. “It’s in a chest, wrapped in enough cold iron to give any Finder fits, then sealed in wax. I put every ward and glyph in the Rune Arcanium on it, then I booby-trapped it the old-fashioned way with spike traps and a bunch of dynamite that’s probably unstable as hell by now.”

  Sullivan studied the map. The atoll wasn’t that far from Banish Island. They’d probably flown over it to catch the train. “We should’ve went there first.”

  “Not if we wanted to catch that train ahead of the storm front. I can steer the weather some, but I can’t board dirigibles in a hurricane, and I wasn’t about to let that cargo get away. I’ve been keeping watch over that blasted thing for twenty years, and unescorted trains are rare. Tesla could wait a few hours . . . No need to risk the traps, so we’ll just stand off and blast it with the pom-pom guns until the dynamite goes off. Then we’ll go down and pick up the pieces.”

  “So you decided to believe me then?”

  He shrugged. “You strike me as an honest man.”

  There was a sudden pounding on the bulkhead. “Captain! Come quick!”

  Southunder was surprisingly nimble. Sullivan had a hard time catching up as the captain ran down the passage and slid down a ladder to the command deck. By the time he got up to the control bubble he could see exactly what the commotion was about. To the north was a wall of black clouds, crackling with lightning, but more terrifying was what was to their west, several large Imperium airships, and even to Sullivan’s untrained eye, those did not look like cargo ships.

  “There shouldn’t have been any navy in this area,” Barns said. “Could they have gotten here already from the train’s distress call?”

  “Damn it. Kagas.” Southunder muttered. There was a large brass telescope mounted at the front of the cockpit and he swiveled it toward the ocean. Sullivan followed the direction it was aiming and noticed more black specks on the ocean, surface ships. “That’s not why they’re here.”

  There was a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is that the atoll?”

  Southunder pulled away from the telescope, his face ashen. “Well, looks like you were right.”

  “Hate to say I told you so,” Sullivan muttered.

  The black ships were getting closer. Tiny dots dropped from their bellies as they released their parasitic fighters. “Orders, Captain?” Barns asked.

  Southunder steadied himself against the telescope. Pushing for the atoll would mean certain death. If the fighters didn’t get them, the heavy antiaircraft guns on the surface ships would. “Run for the storm.”

  Chapter 23

  We’ve been warned about magic since the days of Adam. Wizards from Canaan and Babylon were always there to lead man astray. Why should now be any different? What if what we’re seeing in these times is a quickening of mankind, tempting us to stray one last time before the last days? This is nothing new. The serpent has just got himself a fancy new suit. Join with me, brethren, and demand that Washington round up these heathen wizards once and for all!

  —D.W. Griffith

  At the first screening of his blockbuster film

  The Death of a Nation, 1918

  UBF Tempest

  Lance joined Faye on the observation bubble at the top of the airship. She’d been up here for hours, watching the distant angry clouds and now enjoying the orange sunset. This was the first time she’d ever flown and the first time she’d ever been over the ocean. She liked the view, and she didn’t really feel like being around the others. For the first time in a very long time, she just wanted to be all alone.

  “Hey, kid,” Lance said as he limped over and leaned on the rail next to her. Faye was leaning way forward, with her forehead against the cold glass, so it felt more like she was outside, flying . . . Flying. Now that would be a neat magic to have. She wondered if anybody could fly?

  “Hi, Lance. Do you know anyone who can fly?”

  “We’re in an airship right now . . .”

  “No, silly, I mean, like a magic bird.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Well, I sorta do, when I put part of my consciousness inside a bird. It’s overrated. Lots of flapping . . . I came to ask you a favor, a real hard favor, and I won’t blame you if you say no.”

  She figured she already knew what it would be. Faye might have been young, but she wasn’t stupid. The Tempest was going to try and sneak up in the dark on the Tokugawa. If they were spotted, they’d get sh
ot down. There was only one of them who could go over there and find Jane without having to actually make the ships touch. “Get me close enough and I’ll get her.”

  Lance nodded thoughtfully. “I knew you would. You’re a brave girl . . . but don’t tell Francis, it’ll scare him to death, and the poor lad’s already a little addled, and especially don’t tell Dan.”

  She hadn’t spoken to Mr. Garrett on the trip. For someone whose Power was based on words, he sure seemed to be saving his up. “He wants to go get her himself.”

  “Yep. Can’t say I rightly blame him,” Lance said thoughtfully. “You still got your Grandpa’s ring?” Faye pulled it out of her pocket and showed him. It was too big and kept slipping off her fingers, but she’d never lose it. “Put it on,” Lance said gruffly. She complied. “Right hand, I’m making you a knight, not proposing, damn it.”

  “Really?” She put the ring on her right hand.

  “Yeah, really.” He looked at her for a long time. “John figured you were too young and that you hadn’t been taught near enough, but I figure you’re gonna need all the help you can get. John’s gonna kill me.” He cleared his throat. “Do you, Sally Faye Vierra, agree to take the oath of the Grimnoir knight—”

  “Sure,” she answered. “Is that it?”

  Lance rolled his eyes. “No, that ain’t it. Christ almighty . . . where was I? That you will swear before your God that you will stay true to that which is right and good, that your magic will be used to protect, never to enslave, that your strength and wisdom will be used to shield the innocent, that you will fight always for liberty even though it may cost your life, that the Society will become your blood and its knights your kin, and that you will heed the wisdom of the elders’ council.”

  Technically, it seemed like they were violating the heck out of that last one, since they’d left Mr. Rawls and Mr. Harkeness in San Francisco, but she supposed that the other part about the knights being your family came first and Jane was in danger. “Okay.”

  “Do you willingly pledge your magic, your knowledge, your resources, and your life to these things?”

  She had plenty of magic, so much that she was starting to think that maybe she had more than anybody else, but not nearly so much knowledge, and no resources to speak of, but she didn’t really mind risking her life. It was actually kind of fun. So it probably balanced out. “I do!”

  Lance took his thumb and pressed it against her forehead. He pushed hard, leaving a pink indention in her skin, making a simple design. She felt her Power perk up, almost like it was excited, and then the feeling was gone.

  “Sally Faye Vierra, you are now a knight of the Grimnoir Society . . . On a personal note, don’t screw it up.”

  Grandpa’s ring shrunk just enough to fit her finger perfectly.

  Imperium flagship Tokugawa

  Madi was so excited he could barely contain himself. The Kaga, first of the Imperium’s super warships, had just maneuvered alongside and the docking had been perfect. Ropes had been launched across and tethered between the two giants, and the canvas-and-silk covered bridge had been rolled across and unfurled. The Weathermen were burning Power to keep the air perfectly calm as the Chairman strolled across.

  The crew had assembled and stood in perfect formation. They snapped to even tighter as the personal bodyguard walked from the bridge onto the Tokugawa’s deck. The soldiers were dressed in black with the traditional red shoulder sash and belt. They formed two lines, and at a command, lifted their Arisaka rifles as one, creating a roof of bayonets for the Chairman to walk under. They stomped their feet in unison. “Strength forever! Imperium forever!”

  He could tell that the Chairman was eager by how he was walking with a purpose, though as usual his face betrayed none of that. The man never seemed to hurry. Everything was always done in the proper time, but even he had to be a little excited to fire up the Geo-Tel. The last message they’d received had said that the Shadow Guard sub had recovered the final piece, and that they’d used a magic portal, just as he and Yutaka had done, to send it directly the Chairman.

  Okubo Tokugawa paused at the end of the ramp and took in the assembled men and the lofty hangar. He breathed in deeply, smelling the recent construction. “I like it,” he said simply, and the men were happy. The Chairman was followed by several men in long black coats, Unit 731 Cogs, and they were carrying the pieces of the Tesla device. Behind them came another two hundred men to supplement the Tokugawa’s crew, handpicked from the finest in the Imperium navy.

  Madi barely moved as the Chairman stopped right in front of him. Madi seldom wore an Iron Guard uniform, but this was a special occasion. His chest was covered in medals and commendations, and he’d even kept the stupid little one the AEF had given him, only it was below all the Imperium honors. Is my uniform perfect? I should have ironed it better. Damn it. He couldn’t help but be nervous. The Emperor was supposed to be a god, but Madi had seen him. He was just some pathetic Normal, a figurehead. The real leader of the most powerful nation in the world was right here, close enough to smell his breath.

  The Chairman looked over at the Healer standing at his side. The blonde had her head down, afraid to look at him. “What is this?” he asked.

  “A gift. She is a Healer, captured from the Grimnoir. I thought you could find a use for her.”

  He studied her for a moment, sticking a finger under her chin and lifting her face. She didn’t speak Japanese, but she understood what was happening. “Yes. She will do.” He returned his attention to his Iron Guard. “Madi, I am sorry for the loss of Yutaka. You worked well together for many years.”

  “He was strong,” Madi replied, “and his death was avenged.”

  The Chairman nodded. “Excellent work, my son. Intelligence shows that your operation has inflamed the American public. Their government is in an uproar. There has already been violence against Actives.”

  “Thank you, Chairman.”

  “You have shown great initiative. Some doubted your loyalty, but I never did. I saw in you a heart that was pure. You took the life of your own flesh and blood in my service. I am pleased. From this point forward, you are to be First amongst the Iron Guard until you perish or I discover someone stronger.”

  He’d never been so humbled. Madi dropped to his knees and bowed clear to the floor. This was the greatest moment of his life.

  “Rise, First Iron Guard. We have much work to do.” Madi rose quickly. “Keep our heading toward Edo. The Kaga will accompany us.” The Chairman turned to one of the Cogs. Madi recognized the little man as the 731 officer who had given him his first kanji. “Shiro, take your men and prepare the device. I want it ready to fire immediately. I do not wish to step foot on the soil of my home until I can do so as the conqueror of the world. Is that understood?”

  His initial thoughts had been right. The Chairman had been waiting for this since 1908. He would waste no time. The targeting marks that had been carved in America were still there, undiscovered all this time. He’d checked them himself on one of his early assignments. They were intricate designs carved right into the bedrock beneath a New York subway. The Geo-Tel would provoke the Power, and it would be drawn toward the Tesla-designed geometries. Their greatest threat would be crippled in one strike. Every other country in the world would fall right into line or risk having a spy scratch a mark under one of their cities. The war would be over before it had even been declared.

  It didn’t matter where the device itself was located. It was truly a global super-weapon. The initial test-firing had been from Tesla’s lab, but the Power had risen up and burned a thousand miles around where Imperium scouts had put the targeting mark in Siberia. If it hadn’t been for those damn Grimnoir, the device would have been in the Chairman’s hands decades ago.

  In a shallow, selfish way, Madi was thankful for those Grimnoir who’d captured the device. He’d only been ten in ’08, and he’d been living in the area that would have been immolated. He would have died along with everybody else
and never had the opportunity to become an Iron Guard. Fate had smiled on him, and since it spared his life by thwarting the Chairman then, it was only right for him to help put history right now.

  The Cog bowed and scurried away with the others. The wizards still made Madi uncomfortable, but they had their uses, just like the Iron Guard, or even that madman Tesla. Everything was falling into place, all for the Chairman’s inevitable reign, and Madi would be at his side until the end.

  FS Bulldog Marauder

  The sky was black with rain. Clouds roiled and lightning crashed. The winds were blowing at terrible velocities, but Southunder’s magic was cushioning them from the very worst.

  “I think we’ve lost them,” Barns said.

  Sullivan was standing at the very front of the glass bubble, watching the energy. “We have to go after it.”

  “We don’t even know where it is,” Southunder said. He was sitting in his captain’s chair, rubbing his eyes with his palm.

  “They’ll take it right to the Chairman, and one minute after he puts it together, America is gone . . . We need to at least warn them.”

  Barns turned around from his console. “Who’d believe you? I don’t believe you, and I’m sitting right here.”

  Southunder rose. “I can at least alert the Grimnoir. They know people. Maybe they can . . . hell, I don’t know, start evacuating . . . I still remember the spell, I just haven’t done it for so long. Damn Pershing’s orders! I never spoke to anyone, just in the off chance that the Imperium would find it.” He went to the wall and pulled down a small round mirror. “Mr. Parker, go to the galley and get me some sea salt . . . It’s been a long time, hiding, all for Black Jack, and all for nothing.”