by Eric Asher
It wasn’t long before he felt like he’d been spinning the handle for an hour, a small pile of filings forming at his feet when the bolt had finally been stripped. Not only was the thread gone, but the end protruding from the joint was a bit thinner too.
He took a hammer to it, the metal impact ringing through the air as he worked the bolt out of the joint. It might have cost them an oversized bolt, but at least the socket was saved. Far easier to replace a bolt.
“Jacob!”
He glanced over the side of the arm to find Gladys and Alice and a face he hadn’t expected to see in Midstream.
“Archibald?”
“Hello, Jacob.”
“What are you doing here?” Jacob hopped down from the arm, sinking into the sands when he landed.
“Gladys can be quite … motivating when she applies herself.” Archibald cast a smile to the princess.
Gladys stood a little straighter. “I told him we needed the docks expanded here so we can move the construction equipment in from Dauschen.”
Jacob’s eyebrows rose a hair. “Dauschen still needs the arm, though, don’t they?”
Archibald nodded. “We’ll move some of the construction from the docks at Dauschen to Midstream. We do not need towering docks in that part of the Deadlands. Fel will not risk sailing over the Burning Forest. Some of those fireballs rise too high. The chainguns and the bolt cannons will be enough to buy a Porcupine the time it needs to reach altitude.”
“A Porcupine?” Jacob asked.
“Yes!” Gladys said, her words coming out in a rush. “Because Archibald moved Warship One here, Belldorn agreed to post a Porcupine at Dauschen and with batteries installed in the Ridge Mountains, Fel’s going to have a hard time reaching the city.”
“And breathe,” Alice whispered.
Gladys grinned.
Archibald held a notebook out to Jacob. “You left this behind in Bollwerk.”
“Thanks,” Jacob said, taking the yellowed parchment from Archibald. He flipped through it, briefly studying Charles’s Titan Mech designs.
Alice leaned over his shoulder. “You left that behind? On purpose?”
“You don’t always have to read my thoughts like that,” Jacob muttered. “I don’t know. I just … I want Charles’s designs to do some good in the world. This was just made for war.”
Gladys tugged on his sleeve until he was facing Midstream and the scorched ash that had been a city block barely a day before. In the distance, the wreckage of the bomber still smoldered, sending a trail of smoke to curl into the air.
“It won’t do us any good to rebuild our city, only to have that happen again and again.”
Jacob looked away from Gladys. “Even if we built a Titan Mech, it can’t stop something like that bomber. Not unless …” He stopped and sighed.
“Think it over,” Archibald said. “For the good of Midstream, and to help protect your friends.”
“He will,” Alice said when Jacob didn’t answer. “Give him some time.”
“Of course.” Archibald looked out across the dry riverbed as if he could see into the city of Fel itself. “Alice, you have made an interesting ally in Furi. My spies inside Ballern failed to understand the depth of the unrest there. Part of that blame falls to me as well. I should have realized that a city with a thriving pirate trade had deeper issues than what I was aware of.”
Alice frowned for a moment before her expression evened out. “What are you asking?”
“Only that if you learn something of significance, you report it to me.”
“She’s my friend,” Alice said. “I won’t betray her and prove the people of the east are just as bad as she’d been led to believe.”
“I am asking no such thing.” Archibald turned back to face the group.
“I hope you aren’t.” Alice sorted through her pack and pulled out a stack of parchment. “I’ve been making copies of some of the more interesting things we found out. The Children of the Dark Fire have infiltrated their monarchy, like the Butcher did in Ancora. They’re allied with Fel, but I don’t know if Mordair even realizes how unstable that city actually is.”
Archibald took the papers and flipped through them, briefly pausing to read a paragraph. “Thank you.”
“You should send a copy to Lady Katherine. We told her some of what’s in there, but she should know more about it. Some of it has to do with the refugees who moved to the Shadowed Woods. Furi has friends there.”
A smile crossed Archibald’s face as he patted the parchment. “An interesting ally indeed.” He turned to Jacob. “As for your supplies, I have two ships on their way from Bollwerk. Frederick gave us the designs for a portable workshop to help keep the sands out of the grease, as he says.”
“My supplies?” Jacob asked.
Gladys dragged her foot through the sand. “I might have mentioned to him what you needed. I probably missed some things, but figured this would be a good start.”
Jacob shook his head. “Thank you. Both of you. Some of the people here don’t have homes to get back to, and I want to get them rebuilt as soon as we can.”
Archibald nodded. “For now, they’re welcome in the barracks on Warship One. And Jacob, please think on those plans. There is much to be said for an unexpected asset.” With that, the Speaker of Bollwerk took his leave, walking back toward the lift descending from Warship One.
To the untrained eye, it might have looked like Archibald was alone, but Jacob hadn’t missed the cloaked shadows that were following him, only to reveal themselves as his guard when he was away from the others.
Gladys squeezed Jacob’s arm. “You’re a good man, Jacob.”
He smiled at the desert princess. He hoped she was right. Because if she wasn’t, he could leave a legacy worse than Charles had in the Deadlands War.
A Fire Lizard roared in the distance, and a plume of flame stretched into the sky.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Alice sat at the writing table nestled in the corner of George’s house. Furi sank into a nearby couch, cracking open her second book of the day. Once Furi realized George had books dating back to some of Midstream’s earliest history, and they were in a language she could read, Alice wasn’t sure if she’d ever see Furi again.
“So you don’t mind staying here for a while?” Alice asked.
Furi peered over the top of her book. “I know I said I didn’t want to stay here, but look at these books, Alice! It’s like the restricted section of the Crown Library, but we can read them whenever we want.”
“I know. But you realize we’ll see more soldiers from Bollwerk as the days go on. If Archibald already set foot in Midstream himself, he’s confident in the loyalty of his people here.”
“Eh,” Furi said, closing her book. “Archibald is confident that his people want money from him. There’s a big gap between that and actual loyalty. I’m not saying he’s as bad as the monarchy in Ballern, but I don’t trust him.”
Alice hesitated. “I’ve known worse people.”
“That’s a resounding endorsement,” Furi said with a laugh. “Can you honestly say he hasn’t asked you to spy on me? Or use me to get some kind of inside information about Ballern.”
Alice didn’t answer, remembering how recently he’d asked for almost those same things.
“Exactly. You’ve known worse people, and I’m sure I have too, but politicians are politicians.”
“I know. But Gladys is my friend too. If nothing else, I want to see Midstream safe for her. And yes, I know that if it weren’t for Archibald, they wouldn’t have to worry about it being safe.”
Furi shrugged. “Maybe. From what I’ve read about the warlords, I think Archibald is the better option. I think it’s low of him to use Midstream as a staging ground to keep the battle away from Bollwerk, though. And you can’t tell me you think he’s doing anything but that.”
Alice shook her head. “No, I know you’re right. It’s why I want to stay here. If I can help Jacob or Gladys,
I’m going to do it.”
“So what’s the story with you and Jacob, anyway? Are you planning a wedding yet?”
“What!” Alice croaked out, juggling her pen and splashing ink across her notes.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Furi said. “It’s just, you both seem old enough. I don’t know what your customs are in Ancora. I thought … I didn’t mean to pry. Well, maybe I meant to pry a little bit.”
“I don’t know, Furi.” Alice blotted at the splashes of ink. “There’s no one else I want to be with, but look at the world. There’s so much to see. So much to explore! I’d rather see the world with him than tie ourselves down to one city. You know … that’s nothing I’d want anytime soon. I’d barely left Ancora at all until last month. And now …” She gestured widely.
Furi rubbed at the back of her hand. “I always thought I’d spend my life with Rin. And then he was gone. Dead as far as I knew until he showed up at a prison in Belldorn. Sometimes it seems like fate only exists to rub our faces in what could have been. And I don’t appreciate that very much. Maybe Mary and Eva have the right idea. Just settle down with a wife.”
“Settle down!” Alice scoffed. “Mary and Eva are two of the least settled people I’ve ever known. A soldier and a pirate who happen to be friends with the Lady of Belldorn? Sure, settled. Let’s go with that.”
Furi flopped back into the couch cushions. “Whatever.”
“Well, I cannot comment on Jacob’s worthiness as a spouse,” George said with a wide grin as he stepped into the room, “but I suspect Furi is right about Archibald.”
Alice felt her face flush at the royal guard’s sudden appearance. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Your secrets are safe with me. Although perhaps secrets are the wrong word when your adoration is on such vibrant display.”
Alice groaned and laid her head down on the desk.
George settled onto the couch, leaning against the opposite armrest from Furi. “Gladys is well aware of Archibald’s motivations, you see. But those motivations have protected us over the years. Without them, we would not have been sheltered by Bollwerk, and I certainly wouldn’t have had the finest restaurant in all of that rusted city.”
“You have a restaurant?” Furi asked.
“The Fish Head!” George said. “Surely even Ballern has heard tales of my fine cooking.”
“Umm …”
George grinned at Furi.
“I have a friend who’s a chef. Well, Jakon, actually. You’ve met him?”
George nodded. “On the docks, yes. I find myself drawn to his ship. It has a flair you do not often find among the pirate vessels.”
Alice was thankful the conversation had veered away from her and Jacob. “You should see the smuggler’s hold on The Ray. It puts the Skysworn to shame.”
George raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let Mary hear you claim something so bold as that.”
“I think Smith would be more offended than Mary,” Alice said with a laugh before lowering her voice. “You trust Archibald, right?”
George nodded. “I trust in what he is. There is a predictability in politicians. If they do not protect their own, then their people will flee. Or their people will throw them down and replace them with a new ruler.”
“You make it sound easy,” Furi said.
“Oh, no. It is not easy, my friend. It is a rare thing for a ruler to be thrown down without bloodshed. And I have seen my share of it. So long as sacrificing Midstream does not forward Archibald’s goals, we can rely on his assistance.”
Furi ran a hand through her hair. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“It is best when there is a mutual benefit. Trust without reason can get you killed.”
They chatted with George for a bit. And the royal guard eventually promised to fix Furi the best fish stew she’d ever had.
The skeptical look on Furi’s face contrasted with the absolute confidence on George’s, making Alice laugh. She went back to copying her notes, hoping to have them completed before George’s feast later that day.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The old tinker flexed his wrist and frowned at the clicking sound it made. “It’s getting close now.” He threw a clasp to the side, which let him turn the mechanism farther before it popped off his forearm. “Still needs a bit more work.”
Samuel groaned and tried to sink into the stiff-backed chair.
“You aren’t a bad tinker, young Spider Knight, but you could use some finesse with the smaller gears.”
“I told you Drakkar could do a better job,” Samuel muttered.
“Ah, yes, but that is why you must do the job. How are you to get better without practice?”
Drakkar patted Samuel on the shoulder. “Forgive him, tinker. He is used to riding on the back of a Jumper where all the finesse is handled by his mount.”
The old tinker chuckled. “Now, that is a sight I would like to see. No giant Jumpers down here near the Dragonwing Mountains since the war. Reckon if there ever were, the Dragonwings themselves ate them all.”
“Well, that’s terrifying,” Samuel said, taking the mechanical hand from the tinker when it was offered. He mounted it back in the vice, fingers down, and then slid a large magnifying lens in front of it. Everything the old tinker had said to look for was in place. The springs, the plate, the locks to make sure it wouldn’t spin freely in its mount. “If Jacob was here, he’d fix this in a minute.”
Samuel flexed the joint, and it clicked. Drakkar and the old tinker were talking, but Samuel stared into the opening of the wrist, flexing the joint again. It was a consistent click, which meant it had to be tied to one of the two pivots. He raised the lens and fished around the end of the bolt with a probe, cursing when it hit something that shouldn’t have been there.
Changing the angle, Samuel found the problem, and he felt a bit like a fool for not finding it earlier. “The bolt’s too long.” He started removing it, so focused he only caught a snippet of the conversation behind him, but it was enough to draw his attention.
“And it was Charles’s apprentice who killed the Butcher. That’s something, I tell you. It’s a shame Charles didn’t kill that monster in the Deadlands War. Told him he should have, you know. He might still be alive if he’d listened.”
“When a man has had enough of war, he has had enough.”
The old tinker nodded. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ve been in this cave long enough now to know.”
Samuel clipped the now-extracted bolt into a spiral cutter. It closed like the lens on a camera, one that was formed of blades. It took a dozen strokes to sever the bolt, but it left a clean cut. Samuel reassembled the hand and sighed when it didn’t click in the vise.
“Okay, I think it’s done.”
The old tinker slid it out of the vise and twisted it onto the socket on his wrist before throwing the latch down again. He grinned when he flexed his metal hand, and only silence greeted them.
“Thank the gods,” Samuel muttered. “How long have we been here?”
“Two days, at most,” the tinker said. “And I do appreciate you helping me organize the workshop. Some of those barrels are awfully heavy at my age.”
Samuel groaned. “We have things to do! I’m glad we could help you, but we have to go.”
“Does the Cave Guardian feel the same?”
Drakkar smiled. “The Cave Guardian is more patient than the Spider Knight.”
“I do appreciate your time here. It’s good to talk with allies on occasion.” The old tinker ran his finger along the spines of several books before pausing and pulling one down. “This is some of the earliest work done on biomechanics. You’ll find Charles’s work toward the end. I warn you, some of the earlier experiments were ghastly, and you’ll find more detail about the berserkers than you ever wished to know.”
Samuel took the volume and flipped through a few pages. Some were filled with diagrams and formulas that looked more complex than anything he’d s
een in all the years he’d known Charles. Other pages were just blocks of text.
He flipped back to the front of the volume. The first date was before the journal he’d found beneath the Sea of Salt. But the date at the end was well after. This was what they’d been looking for.
“These are the dates we were missing,” Samuel said. “Maybe we can piece together the entire story now.”
The old tinker tapped his finger on the workbench. “If you have need, you may ask me what that book does not tell you. Take it and go. I must return to my work here now that my hand doesn’t make that infernal clicking.”
He scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment and held it out to Samuel. “I assume you’re aware of Archibald’s transmitters.”
“Yes,” Samuel said, frowning at the frequency with the name Targrove written next to it. “Is Targrove a codeword? That was Smith’s mentor’s name.”
The old tinker smiled. “Perhaps, before you go, it is best you know. I was once the Master Tinker of Belldorn. My name, you see, is Targrove.”
Targrove. Mentor to Smith. Ally of Charles. Legendary tinker of the Deadlands War. A man who had supposedly died decades before. A thousand questions ran through Samuel’s mind. But all he managed to say was, “But you’re dead.”
Targrove’s laughter echoed around them in the workshop, and Samuel realized they might not be leaving Pirate’s Cove quite yet.
Note from Eric R. Asher
Thank you for spending time with Jacob and Alice! I’ve been blown away by the reader response to this series, and am so grateful to you all. The next book of Jacob and Alice’s adventures is called Skyforged.
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