The Dragon Machine (Magebreakers Book 3)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Immortality. Now Tane understood Greymond’s divination—which felt like a long time ago, now. There’s a great upheaval if I’ve ever heard one. And a lot of people aren’t going to stop to think about dangerous side effects if they’re told they could live forever.

  “Does opposite thing now,” said Kadka, putting voice to the same thing Tane was thinking. “Kills people. Is not Tinga burning your men. We know this.”

  “Early experiments,” Thorpe said without apparent concern. “I lack the materials to power the machine properly. People yield so little Astral essence, compared to the drain.”

  The cuff was almost loose enough now to pull his wrist free, but Tane looked up at that. So that’s why she put that vial in the machine. “If you’re using the essence you drain to power it, you’re not going to have enough left for proper research. And you don’t have forever. When you get rid of Tinga and they keep dying, Roark and his men will realize what you’re doing to them. I have a feeling they won’t like that very much.”

  “By then I will have solved the problem,” Thorpe said. “It seems that stress and overexertion trigger the… unfortunate side effects. It has only happened when you and your friend have pushed my men to their limits. When you are gone, I will have time to refine the formula. And my resource problem is soon to be solved as well. My Astral mapping has located a much greater source of power than a few beggars.” She moved to pat the dragon’s egg; it stood as high as her waist. “I understand you saw my prize being moved.”

  “You will drain baby dragons for machine?” Kadka bared her teeth again. “Could be last of their kind, and you will kill them!”

  “Dragons are already effectively extinct,” Thorpe said dismissively. “I could stop that from ever happening to another species.” She frowned down at the egg. “Unfortunately, removing the specimen from the quarry seems to have sapped its power. I had hoped to work in a controlled environment, but it seems I will have to go to the source.”

  “The source?” Tane asked, mostly just to keep her talking. “There are more of those?” As he spoke, he squeezed his thumb and fingers together, twisted his wrist free of the cuff.

  “Oh, yes,” said Thorpe. “And so much more. With a suitable source of Astral energy, I will soon perfect my elixir. Strength, speed, vitality, and no side effects. I am on the verge of changing the world, Mister Carver. Can’t you appreciate that?”

  “You really are a fanatic.” Something clicked into place that had been bothering Tane since the warehouse. “But… not quite the right kind. This is really all about your research for you, isn’t it? The great experiment. You don’t care about crowning an emperor. The Knights were just a mislead. You used them as a cover.”

  Thorpe pushed her spectacles up once more and smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “A useful distraction. I encouraged those rumors wherever I could.”

  “I wouldn’t look so smug,” Tane said. “I know the man in charge, and I don’t think he’ll like being used as a scapegoat.” His eyes flicked to the table by the machine, where Kadka’s knives sat among scattered tools and parts.

  Thorpe waved off the warning. “Enough. I hoped you might understand, Mister Carver, but clearly you won’t listen to reason. It hardly matters.” She turned to her machine, and adjusted several switches and dials. Then, with a muttered incantation in the lingua, she made a beckoning motion at Tinga. The binding artifact on the chair’s leg gave way, and it slid abruptly along the floor toward the machine, carrying Tinga with it.

  “What are you…?” Tinga didn’t finish the question before Thorpe flipped the large master switch at the center of the instrument panel.

  The orb atop the machine let out a high-pitched whine.

  Tinga’s scream drowned it out.

  “Stop!” Kadka shouted. Every muscle in her body strained as she threw herself forward in her chair, but the manacles held fast.

  Tinga struggled, but she was bound in place. Her back arched as if an invisible tether was pulling at her chest. At the side of the machine, the glass cylinder began to fill with a trickle of silver-blue liquid. A deep blue window opened in the air, displaying the four of them in vivid silver; Tinga’s aura pulsed in and out, a silver strand running between her and the machine. Thorpe stood with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the image with dispassionate interest.

  Watching her experiment. Not Tane.

  He pulled the chain on his cuffs through the rungs on the back of the chair, surged to his feet, and snatched one of Kadka’s knives up from the table. With one hand, he twisted Thorpe’s arm behind her; the other pressed the blade of the knife against her throat.

  “Try a spell and this goes through your neck,” he said. “Now turn it off.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  _____

  STILL STRUGGLING AGAINST her own manacles, Kadka watched Carver leap from his chair and put a knife to Thorpe’s throat. How he’d gotten free, she couldn’t guess, but he was clever—it must have been some sleight of hand.

  “Try a spell and this goes through your neck,” Carver said. “Now turn it off.” Kadka was impressed—she wasn’t sure he had the stomach to actually follow through, but the threat was convincing.

  “Wait,” said Thorpe. “It… it takes time. If I don’t deactivate the machine properly, the link will remain open, and the girl will still be riven.” She started turning dials and moving switches; Carver watched intently over her shoulder. Finally, she pulled a big lever in the middle of the panel, and the machine stopped making that terrible whining noise. Tinga collapsed back in her chair, breathing heavily.

  “Good,” Carver said. He yanked Thorpe back, pushed her toward Kadka. “Now free her.”

  Obediently, Thorpe fumbled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked Kadka’s manacles. The woman was shaking violently—clearly she wasn’t used to being in any real danger.

  Kadka stood, rubbing her wrists. “Give her to me, Carver. Will have harder time squirming away.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Carver. “Take her.”

  Kadka grabbed Thorpe by the arm, took the knife Carver offered, and put it to the other woman’s neck. “Don’t get ideas,” she said, baring her teeth. “You yell for help, is very painful for you.” Thorpe cringed, but didn’t struggle.

  Carver snatched the keys out of Thorpe’s hand and unfastened the metal cuffs still hanging from his left wrist, then knelt behind Tinga’s chair to free her. When she was loose, he helped her to her feet. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, I think. Thanks to you.” Tinga swayed a bit on her feet, but waved Carver away when he offered his arm, preferring to stand on her own. Kadka respected that.

  “What is plan, Carver?” Kadka asked. “Uncuffed is not same as free. Still guards between us and door.”

  “That’s right,” Thorpe said—quietly, though, and with her eyes on the wand at her neck. “This is foolishness. You can’t escape, but… but let me go and we can surely work out a better solution.”

  Kadka didn’t trust that for a moment. “Quiet,” she growled. Thorpe closed her mouth immediately.

  Carver went to the table and scrounged among the mess to retrieve the sending locket Indree had given him. He squeezed it a few times. “Nothing. We’re masked from divination in here. Which means no outside help. I’m not sure how we get by Roark and his men, especially if they’ve been drinking that stuff.” He nodded at the glowing vials on the table as he reclaimed his various charms and magical gadgets.

  Kadka grinned down at Thorpe, and squeezed her arm harder. “We have her. Hostage, or shield. Both are good.”

  Thorpe made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat. “Please, just… I’ll tell them to let you by. They’ll do as I say.”

  “I’m not thrilled about the idea,” said Carver. “There are more of them than us, and they’re fast enough that they might get cocky. But it’s the only leverage we have, so I suppose that’s the plan.”

  “Wait,” Tinga said, her ey
es narrowing. “We’re not going anywhere until she tells me where she’s keeping Cestra and the others.” She advanced, glaring up at Thorpe as menacingly as a five-and-a-half foot goblin girl could manage.

  “I can’t—” Thorpe started to protest.

  Kadka pressed the tip of the wand into her neck, let it break the skin just enough to start a trickle of blood. She really didn’t like this woman. “Is best if you talk.”

  “The quarry!” Thorpe yelped. “They’re in the tunnel, with one of my machines.” And then, with a hint of defiance, “Telling you makes no difference. They’re under heavy guard.”

  “So you can drain life from them,” Kadka said. “Power your machine, kill dragon eggs.” She hated the idea of the last dragons being sacrificed to Thorpe’s ambition, even if Carver was right about them. Maybe they were dangerous, but an entire species shouldn’t die like that. She set her jaw. “Will not happen. Tinga, Carver, get my knives. Is time we leave.” Shoving Thorpe into motion, she marched for the door with the others following close behind.

  When Kadka shoved the door open and emerged into the hall, Roark and a half dozen men were waiting for her. Silver glowed behind their eyes, growing brighter when they saw the knife at Thorpe’s neck. Roark’s hand blurred as he went for the ancryst pistol at his side.

  “Try, and this one dies,” Kadka snapped, adding a snarl for good measure.

  Roark hesitated with his hand on his pistol. “I could take her before you could move,” he said. “You’ve seen what the elixir does for speed.”

  “Do it!” Thorpe demanded—apparently the hope of rescue had given her some courage. “Cullen, stop them!”

  But Roark didn’t draw. His eyes shifted, just slightly, to Tinga.

  Who, with a sudden smile, stepped forward. “Your elixir wasn’t powerful enough to save the others who came after me!” she said theatrically, and raised her hands, fingers outstretched. “Let us by, or you burn!”

  Several of the men behind Roark stepped back at the threat, their eyes flaring bright.

  “You can’t… she’s not…” Thorpe stammered. “Just… just do something!”

  Kadka almost laughed. The girl was clever, catching Thorpe in her own lie. She couldn’t admit Tinga had no power without admitting it was her potion that was killing them.

  But laughing would have ruined the illusion. Instead, Kadka kept her teeth bared, and twisted Thorpe’s wrist to shut her up. “Enough. You hear what she says. Let us by. Now.”

  Roark stood his ground, even as his men cleared the way. “We outnumber you, and there’s more downstairs,” he said, glaring at Tinga with silver eyes. “You think between thirty of us we can’t take you both, the speed and strength we have?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Carver said, stepping forward. “Maybe you can. But at the same time? Because if you give either of these women even a second to react, your boss dies or a lot of you burn. Better let us pass, Roark.”

  Reluctantly, Roark stepped aside. “You won’t make it out of the building.”

  “We will see,” said Kadka, pushing Thorpe into motion once more.

  Beside her, Tinga feinted faux-magical gestures at the guards on either side of the hall. “Stay back!”

  They were almost at the stairs when Roark bellowed, “The little bitch has to be bluffing! If she was going to burn us, she’d have done it already! Something’s holding her back!”

  “I’ve dampened her power!” Thorpe exclaimed suddenly. “For everyone’s safety! I told you I could stop her, Cullen!”

  “Shut up!” Kadka hissed, and pressed the blade of her knife hard against Thorpe’s neck. Blood oozed from the wound, and Thorpe clamped her mouth shut once more.

  Which did nothing to take back what had already been said. And Thorpe’s new lie was enough to give her guards the confidence they needed.

  “Stop them!” Roark ordered, and led his men forward.

  “Deshka,” Kadka muttered. “Move!” She shoved Thorpe into the stairwell.

  But Roark was coming too fast, and several of his men had found the courage to follow. They’d close the distance in seconds.

  Carver whirled, and whipped his hand from his pocket. His charmglobe bounced along the floor. A translucent silver dome erupted from it, blocking the hall. Roark’s eyes flashed like spellfire as he pounded his fists against the barrier.

  There were footsteps on the stairs below, now. Roark’s shout had alerted the building.

  “It’s over.” Thorpe’s voice had regained some confidence, now. “I had Roark bring in extra men, and many of them have sampled my elixir. You won’t get past all of them.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “Have to go up,” Kadka said, thrusting her chin at the stairs to the roof.

  “Are you crazy?” Carver shook his head. “There’s no way out up there!”

  “No way out down, either,” said Kadka. “She is right—too many, too fast. Only takes one to make move at wrong moment. Maybe we find something to climb on roof.”

  Carver frowned, looked back at Roark and his men pounding against the shield. “Fine. No time to argue—that won’t hold, and if the rest of them are as fast as we’ve seen, they won’t take long climbing the stairs. Let’s go.”

  They sprinted up the stairway as the sounds of pursuit grew louder behind. At the top, Kadka kicked open the door, and they surged through onto the roof. The downpour had faded to a light drizzle, but the rooftop was still slick with rainwater, and the green-tinted clouds overhead were heavy and dark. Carver and Tinga rushed to the edges, looking for some way down, throwing up a cold spray with each hasty footfall.

  “I don’t see anything!” Tinga said, wide-eyed and panicked.

  “There’s nothing to see.” Roark’s voice, from behind. “You ran yourselves right into a dead end.”

  Kadka whirled to see him and his men emerging onto the roof. Their eyes were still bright with silver light, but not as bright as they had been—they had the advantage now, and there were too many of them. She didn’t think she could push them into burning the way she had when it was only one man, and definitely not fast enough to make a difference. She clutched the knife to Thorpe’s neck and backed away; Tinga and Carver regrouped at her side.

  “Stay away!” Tinga yelled, thrusting a hand out at the advancing men. “I’ll burn you, I swear it!”

  Roark kept coming. “What’s stopping you, then?” He wasn’t scared anymore. The only thing keeping him and his men at bay was the threat to Thorpe’s life, now.

  “I will kill her,” Kadka threatened, gripping her knife tight and backing ever closer to the edge of the roof. She meant it. She would lose no sleep over this woman.

  And Roark seemed to sense that. He checked his men with a raised hand. “I could take her from you, but why risk it? There’s no way out. Give up, and maybe we show mercy.”

  He wouldn’t. She knew his type—if she gave up their only advantage, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

  But he’d been wrong about one thing.

  There was still a way out.

  She glanced over her shoulder; she was right at the edge of the roof now, the lip of it pressing against her calves. A plot of damp shrubbery ran along the side of the building below, three floors down. Not so high—she’d jumped two before, although she’d had an angry dwarf to break her fall. She wouldn’t have anything like that here.

  But Carver and Tinga might.

  Kadka removed the knife from Thorpe’s neck.

  “Smart,” said Roark, inching closer with his men. “Now hand her over.”

  Kadka grinned, and shoved Thorpe at them with all her might. The woman skidded across the wet roof, bowled into Roark, sent him stumbling back against the others. Feet slipped out from under a few of the men, and water splashed in every direction as they tumbled down.

  In the moment of chaos, Kadka grabbed Carver and Tinga in her arms, pulled them tight against her chest.

  “Has been fun, Carver,” she said. “Wouldn’t change
a thing.” And it was true. Even knowing she’d end up on this rooftop, she would have done it all again. No regrets. She would have liked to see Iskar again, but as much as she loved the stories of romantic reunions and last minute rescues her mother had told her growing up, life didn’t always go that way. There was nothing to be done about it now.

  Carver twisted his head to look back at her as she drew him close. He knew something was wrong—just like she’d known he would. “Kadka, what are you—”

  Before he could finish, she threw herself backwards off the building, taking the two of them with her.

  As she fell, Kadka held Carver and Tinga close, keeping her back to the ground and aiming for the wilting bushes below. She didn’t know if it would be enough—human and goblin bodies tended to be less resilient than hers, a benefit of her orc blood—but if she hit first, maybe she would cushion the impact for them. Not the way she wanted to go, but if it gave the others a chance, it was worth it.

  Not long now. She closed her eyes, and braced for impact.

  A pair of hands wrapped around her shoulders, arresting her fall with a sudden jerk.

  Clawed hands.

  “I’ve got you.” A deep, comforting voice from above.

  Iskar’s voice.

  Kadka opened her eyes to see his great silver wings flapping overhead, his muscular arms straining with the effort of slowing their fall. The ground was some twenty feet below, and still growing closer—but slower now, and they were moving away from the Thorpe building.

  A laugh erupted from her throat, and tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

  She was alive. And she was flying.

  Maybe there had been some truth to her mother’s stories after all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  _____