The Nullification Engine (The Alchemancer: Book Two)

by Scott Marlowe

  "You go to consult a human," Rachna said, spitting. "Why should we believe anything this person says?"

  "Because the spirits have shown him to me. That should be enough."

  "It is not." Rachna's ears were pointed straight back and the fur on his exposed arms stood on end. His tail was rigid behind him. "You have trusted humans before, Acharat, and paid a price. If they fail you again, then I fear this time we will all pay."

  "As I rely on your blade, I ask you to rely upon my wisdom and judgment." Acharat paused. "Or is today the day you finally challenge me?"

  The room grew so still not a single padded foot shifted or tail swished the air. All eyes were on Rachna, as they waited for the shodeth leader's response. When it came, it came swiftly.

  "No, Chieftain," he said, "it will not be this day."

  With that, the shodeth leader spun about and walked from the chamber. His warriors followed him in silence. Their departure signaled the crowd to disperse and return to normal business. Many skeva approached their chief, offering a nod or some verbal snippet of support. Acharat did not leave the square until he had received them all. When he had, he knew it was time to begin his sojourn to the surface.

  A quick trip to his house to gather some few supplies packed into a satchel was the only stop he made. Pausing at the edge of the city plateau, Acharat took one last, longing look upon Xirklx, with its mud-brick houses and lonely pathways. Then he started the long ascent to the surface.

  * * *

  Rachna waited until he and his shodeth warriors had returned to the security of their private lair before he addressed the others.

  "We proceed with our plan to attack the humans."

  Rachna looked over his warriors, gauging their reactions. They were dressed identically in shadowy, lightweight clothing, which helped conceal them in the dark, and soft shoes which kept the claws of their toes silent when they stalked their prey. Many were armed with an assortment of throwing knives and stars. All had the short, straight-bladed sword of the shodeth in sheaths at their backs. Not one of them contested his words despite what had just happened in the square. They might owe their loyalty to Acharat and their city, but they owed it to him first. Only Hosh, a grizzled skeva who served as Rachna's second, dared even ask a question.

  "Shall I send word to the regulars who have sworn their loyalty to our cause? Shall I have them make ready?"

  Rachna sniffed. "No. Our original timetable does not change. For now, we await Poth."

  As if on cue, the skeva so named entered the room. He walked straight to Rachna and bowed. Behind him entered another. This one was not dressed as a shodeth, but in a plain shirt and vest with a pair of goggles perched on his forehead. At his belt was an assortment of tools and brass gadgets, but no weapons. He made no effort to intrude further on the assembly, but remained at its fringes.

  "Poth, what is your report?"

  "Purcil and I did as you requested. The pyromancer's fire bombs work perfectly. I leave the details to Purcil, but I observed much devastation and many dead."

  Rachna nodded.

  "Also, I visited the pyromancer. He was not pleased at our field test, but told me everything proceeds on schedule. The remainder of the devices will be ready on time."

  His report concluded, Poth bowed and started to withdraw. His leader's voice stopped him.

  "How may I further serve?" Poth asked.

  Poth was one of their youngest warriors, but efficient beyond his years with a blade and one of the stealthiest. Rachna often selected him for the most clandestine of missions.

  "Acharat leaves for the surface," Rachna said. "Intercept him."

  "And kill him?"

  Rachna had half a mind to answer in the affirmative. But the young shodeth had only his sword and hardly his wits if he thought it so easy to kill the shaman.

  "No." He let none of his reluctance show. "Only follow him. Do not let your presence be known or do anything to reveal yourself." Rachna leveled a hard stare at him. "As before, when you reach the city of the humans, no hunting. Do you understand?"

  Poth bowed his acquiescence.

  "Take another warrior with you. I leave the selection up to you. Report back when the shaman has returned."

  Poth made his decision quickly. Together, the two shodeth left the dojo. Purcil remained in place, apparently forgotten.

  Rachna paced the length of their primary living space. The room was longer than wide, with smooth stone floors and walls and a suitably cavern-like ceiling. Multiple passages led off to other, smaller rooms of similar design. The walls were decorated with the weapons of their trade: swords, knives, stars, staves, blowguns, and short bows.

  "We are deadly with our weapons, my brothers," Rachna said. "But the humans have the machine now. It is too vast and we are not possessed of enough knowledge to sabotage it."

  "What are we to do, then?" Hosh asked, speaking for everyone as was his place.

  Rachna crossed his arms and lowered his head in thought. "We kill every last human capable of using it against us, and then we make sure no one ever finds it again. The pyromancer has given us the means. Too long have our kind hidden in the dark, afraid of those above us. No longer."

  All bowed, for the course set by their leader was the only course.

  "What of Acharat?" Hosh asked. "Always he has opposed us. Always he has had the support of the people. He will not stand idly by while we carry out this plan. How shall we deal with him?"

  Rachna's tail moved in swift motion. "That is a tricky matter. We dare not assassinate him, for we do not wish to make him a martyr. But neither can we allow him the freedom to oppose us."

  "It comes to a challenge then."

  Rachna considered. "Yes. With Acharat dead, leadership will fall to me, and the way to attack the humans, clear."

  "It is a wise course," Hosh said. "But may I suggest another?"

  Amongst their number, only Hosh possessed the esteem to ask such a question. But even he walked dangerous ground if he meant to question their leader.

  Rachna nodded, waiting.

  "You are right to challenge Acharat. I know I speak for all shodeth when I say it is the only way. But I fear even a challenge will make a martyr of him. I implore you. For now, detain him only. Place him under house arrest until after we have returned from slaying the humans. We have the loyalty of the soldiers who agreed to march with us, but not all. Also, as we saw this day, doubt remains with the people as a whole. They must know you have been right all along. We will show them this when we return victorious and there is no reprisal. They must have no doubts if you are to assume leadership for as long as Acharat has led us. You can make them fear you, Rachna, but having them respect you is something else. With victory against the humans on your side, all of the people will follow you. Only then challenge Acharat."

  Once more, Rachna considered. "You speak words of wisdom, Hosh. We will do as you say. I will stay my hand against Acharat until we return. I leave it to you to ensure he does not interfere before that."

  Hosh bowed. "You do me honor."

  "Now," Rachna said, turning his attention to the wider audience, "make ready, my shodeth, for soon we shall ascend to the surface. Soon we will make the streets of the humans run red with their blood."

  9. A Kingsley Arrival

  "I SHOULD WARN YOU, MOTHER," Evan Kingsley said to Ursool as they passed through Eastern Gate, "you may find Brighton a wonderful place at first, but it's a big city like any other. Chances are, if someone's too friendly, they're acting that way because they want something from you. Dark alleys are dark for a reason. Stay clear of them. And if someone asks you for directions and wishes for you to show them the way, they're likely about to beat you over the head and rob you blind."

  Ursool cast Evan a sidelong glance. "You do not think very highly of people, do you?"

  "I think people are capable of a great many things, and that one should always be wary around them. You, mother, are too trusting by far. I might have b
een a bandit or any manner of rogue, yet you joined up with me, out in the middle of the wilderness no less, without a second thought. I fear you're headed for a world of trouble unless you exercise more caution."

  "You are a sweet boy, Evan." Ursool stood on her tiptoes and gave the man a peck on his shaven check. "But I will be fine. It's not my first time in Brighton, you know."

  "So you've said between odd outbursts about elemental sorcerers and white-eyed mercenaries. You're a strange one, mother, but I've been glad for the company these past days. You're sure you won't accept my offer of lodging? I know an inn. It's nothing fancy, but you'll have a room of your own and it'll give you a steady base from which to conduct your business. No one knows better than a patroller how nice it is to have a place to call home, even if—What in Uhl happened here?"

  Normally, the road leading through Eastern Gate formed a 'T' with the intersecting city street. The intersection itself was a square, but it looked to Evan like it had undergone some serious renovations, for now it included a great, round chasm right at its center.

  "That's interesting," Evan said.

  The road was closed in all directions to everything but pedestrians, who managed the way around with caution. Wooden barricades had been erected around the hole, and a handful of guards stood about, just to make sure no one fell in. Evan decided to ask one of them what had happened.

  "Gas pocket," the guard responded. "That's what the engineers are telling us, anyway. Don't know anything more."

  The hole was half-flooded. Those areas not underwater crawled with city workers clearing debris. One stood apart from the others, taking notes or filling out a report. It seemed they'd the matter in hand.

  "A room of my own?" Ursool asked Evan once he'd returned from making his inquiry. "Are King's Patrollers paid so well these days?"

  Evan smiled. "We aren't paid at all, actually. But I've some family money I never seem to know what to do with. It would make me feel better to know you are taken care of, mother."

  "I thank you again, Evan, but you've done me service enough by delivering me to my destination. Now, we must part ways."

  Evan pressed her no further. Now that he was here, he'd his usual patroller errands and then some, what with the Norwynne business and all, and he'd best be about it. After a final farewell, Evan headed straight for the earl's palace, where his patroller credentials were more than sufficient to get him through the front gate and bypass the usual requirement to hand over weapons. He made it as far as one of the inner wards before a steward too fair-looking for his own good stopped him.

  "What might I do for you, sir?" the steward asked.

  He'd a nasally voice Evan found instantly irritating. It soothed Evan's sensitivities even less when the man unfurled a kerchief from a vest pocket and, touching it to his nose, held it there.

  Evan had been on the road for weeks. He smelled and he knew it. Ordinarily his first request, and a common courtesy shown to any visiting patroller, was a room and a hot bath. Though within his rights to ask for both, Evan was more interested in giving his report, seeing what tidbits of information the earl's staff was willing to share which he didn't already know, and getting out of there. Not out of the city. Not yet. With a moderately-priced inn already in mind, he'd see about getting that bath, a cooked meal, plenty of beer, and maybe even a lass or three first. His good looks may have already taken him many places with the ladies, but he wouldn't complain about exploring a few more. Right now, though, he'd this dainty to deal with. As much as he felt like knocking the man aside and looking for someone with a bit more clout, he knew from experience that particular strategy was not likely to get him anywhere or earn him any favors. So, instead, he smiled his best smile and flashed the man his most charming look.

  "I, sir, am Evan Kingsley of the King's Patrol. I've come to give a report and to inquire as to the nature of what happened in Norwynne Keep." He'd visited the site and seen what others had reported, which was to say he'd seen nothing at all, for the city-keep was gone.

  "Oh," the steward said, removing the kerchief from his nose. He'd a journal under one arm, which he started to open. "Have you anything new to add to the accounting?"

  "Well, no. I just found out about it a few days ago. I hoped you would have something to share with me."

  "I am sorry, Mister...?

  "Kingsley. Evan Kingsley. Call me Evan."

  "Mr. Kingsley?" he said, looking down his nose at him. "Of the King's Patrol."

  "Yes, that's what I said. Need I show you my credentials? Surely you can tell from my dress that I'm not from around here." Evan wore the usual leather trappings of a patroller. He'd his bow over one shoulder, his pack over the other, and his sword and knives at his belt. The eagle crest stitched into the breast of his jerkin identified him as belonging to the Alzion Hall.

  "You are correct about that, sir." He closed his journal and folded his hands before him. "I am sorry, Mr. Kingsley, but information pertaining to Norwynne is a state matter. I can share nothing with you."

  Evan opened his mouth to protest but, realizing the futility, said only, "Fine." He'd spoken with many folk on the road, and so knew most of what there was to know already. He'd fill in any holes later while out and about.

  "I will give my report, then." This is where things always got entertaining. "I request an audience with the lord chancellor. This is patroller business, and for his ears alone."

  The man attempted to stifle a laugh. He was not very successful.

  "Lord Chancellor Marcel is a very busy man, Mr. Kingsley. Even more so of late. I'm afraid he will not have the time to meet with you."

  Evan might continue to protest. Generally that involved asking to speak with a superior or threatening to lodge a complaint. Typically, neither approach got him anywhere. Also, he preferred to keep a low profile amongst the gentry. 'Out of sight, out of mind, out of trouble' was a favorite adage of one of his uncles. Words to live by, as far as Evan was concerned. He'd little enough to report, anyway. But it was part of his duty, and he'd not leave without fulfilling it.

  "Yes, of course. The wheels of government are always moving, are they not?"

  The steward shook his head in confusion. "Mr. Kingsley, I am not sure I—"

  "That's all right. I'll need to give my report to someone. Since you're standing here, it might as well be you. Are you capable of relaying it to the chancellor?"

  The steward did not dignify the question with an answer. But he did reopen his book, turned to a page, and waited with quill poised.

  "Now, let's see..." Evan took a moment to organize his thoughts. "No observed goblin activity in the Alzions. The eastern Dormont Forest is quiet." That encompassed the totality of his usual patrol route. However, he had received news from elsewhere he was obligated to pass on. "The Merrow Hall of the Wood has reported seeing suspicious activity in the Dead Lands. No specifics yet, but they're working in conjunction with the dwarves of Heidelheim to investigate. Their report is three months old now, so perhaps they've discovered something more. Also, the Simarron Hall had some trouble recently with a sitheri witch brewing up trouble. Some issues with goblins there as well. All's been dealt with, so nothing to worry about. Shouldn't you be writing some of this down?"

  The steward sniffed. "When something is said of note, I shall."

  "Do you intend to even tell the chancellor of my visit?"

  "Oh, I shall tell him a member of the King's Patrol made his usual report, but that it did not contain anything of importance. Unless you've something more to add?"

  Evan did not. Nor did he have any more patience. He kept most of the sarcasm out of his voice as he thanked the steward for his assistance. Then he left the palace to go find the moderately-priced inn he'd told Ursool about. He'd stayed there before on previous visits, so after a little reorientation of his surroundings, he located the place. The proprietor, Clyde Mantock, was as round and jolly as he remembered him, and Evan was humbled when the man not only remembered his name, but t
hat he preferred a room with a window overlooking the main street. A hot bath and a quick change into a pair of breeches and a green tunic, the golden eagle emblem of the Alzion Hall embroidered front and center, shook off any lingering frustration Evan felt at being snubbed back at the palace. He ate a late breakfast in the inn's common room. While he did so, Clyde obliged his curiosity by filling him in on the happenings of the past week. Evan let the man relate anything and everything to him regardless of whether he'd already heard it or not. In the end, he'd heard most of it already. The part he hadn't heard yet involved something going on right here in Brighton.

  "People gone missing?" Evan asked as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. He balled the napkin up and tossed it onto his now-empty plate.

  "Yes." Clyde bobbed his head, a motion which set the rolls of his neck shaking. "No one knows for sure when the disappearances started. My sister's husband is with the city guard. He draws the Slums patrol more often than not. Someone high up doesn't like him, is all I can say about that. Anyway, he told me the other night that about a month or so ago reports started coming in of people just vanishing. Some from the streets, some right from their homes. If this happened anywhere else other than the Slums, you bet someone would have already started looking into it. But since it's not..." He shrugged.

  Evan knew the city watch patrolled the Slums, but only halfheartedly. Rarely was an effort made to track down the criminals perpetrating its crimes. Bankrolled guards and city officials probably had a lot to do with that.