by Garon Whited
A handheld radio controller of the sort used for toy airplanes helped. Mary pretended to drive and Bronze demonstrated her robot-like gait, complete with metallic sounds of her hooves on pavement. People noticed, but I doubted it would go viral. Fifty years ago, or even twenty years ago, she would have been a sensational robot. Now, here, in this world? Eh. What’s one more robot?
I, like a good mastermind, waited on the yacht for my minions to complete this phase of my plan.
We chugged out of London and splashed for Livorno, Italy. I worked with the Captain to provide him with the latitude and longitude of major nexus points in the Atlantic. Rather than demonstrate to him my insanity—or magical powers—I took a printed map into the master bedroom, did some scrying, and came back with points marked. He looked it over, spent some time on the ship’s navigation computer, and told me we could hit all nine points in about twenty-four days.
“Exclusive of any time you wish to spend on station, of course,” he added.
“Twenty-four days?”
“The shortest practical route is a little over eight thousand, three hundred miles. The Princess pulls about twelve knots—excuse me, fourteen miles per hour. That’s using the sidewheels, of course. We can also run the hydrojet if you’re in a hurry, but it cuts down our cruising range. The two systems aren’t meant to be used together.”
“How much time would that save?”
“About three days, but we’ll end almost out of fuel. We’ll need to make port at Abaco Beach to refuel—it’s only about twenty miles of travel from the last point you want to explore.”
“And all this assumes we don’t catch a favorable wind?”
Captain Tillard blinked at me for a moment. He licked his lips, stroked the short beard he wore, and obviously chose his words with great care.
“Sir, I understand you aren’t a nautical man. Is that true?”
“Yes, Captain, it is.”
“Is it also fair to say you are not experienced in operating a ship?”
“I can agree with you on that, no problem.”
“Then, if I may make a suggestion?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Perhaps I could see to the handling of the ship. I’ll get you where you want to go as quickly as the Princess can get you there. Is that arrangement to your liking?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good.” He checked the bridge instruments and seemed satisfied. “We’ll take on fuel when we reach port in Italy, while we’re taking your flying thing aboard. Is there anything else I should know?”
“No, sir, and thank you very much.”
“That will be all.”
I slunk off his bridge and resolved to not poke my nose into it again.
Mary, meanwhile, was down in the master suite. I came in and saw she’d unpacked my stuff—that is, Firebrand and my other sword were hung on hooks. There were also more clothes than I thought I had. I examined a suit jacket and raised an eyebrow at her. She swept curly hair over one shoulder and grinned around a mouthful of pearly-white teeth at me.
“You don’t expect to sit down for dinner in an old bathrobe and carpet slippers, do you?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought,” I admitted.
“You’re on a yacht. There’s a crew. There’s staff. People don’t exactly come with a yacht, but you have to have them. I kept the contracts from the previous owner. The cook isn’t a cordon-bleu chef, but he’s very good, especially with seafood. The two valets aren’t waiters—more all-around servants than specialists—but they’ll handle the business of fetching drinks, turning down beds, and so on. Ludmilla is my ladies’ maid, but she also handles laundry and general cleaning. This is a luxurious floating house and it has to have a staff.”
“I liked the Ardent place,” I muttered. Mary hit me with a cushion.
“You said to get a yacht!” she laughed.
“I didn’t know it came with people!”
“What, you thought it was just a Google Cab on the water?”
“No! Yes. Maybe. Sort of?”
“You really don’t do well with boats, do you?”
“I vividly recall going down with the ship at least once.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should keep one of those emergency life harnesses handy.”
“Maybe you should. Have you given any thought to how we’ll cope if the ship sinks? I’ll sink like a lead brick, but you might float. If you float, what happens when the sun does one of those rising or setting things?” I asked. Mary looked startled, then thoughtful.
“I hadn’t considered how dangerous an ocean voyage might be.”
“Yeah. I think it’s worthy of a little consideration.”
“I’m sure we can work out something. Let me check the survival capsules.”
“Good thinking,” I told her. “What’s a survival capsule?”
A survival capsule is a rich person’s personal lifeboat. It bears almost no resemblance to a coffin, yet I was reminded of one. It’s more like a gigantic aluminum pill. It’s cylindrical, rounded on both ends, and has a one-person harness inside. In theory, you rush to your personal lifeboat, jump in, pull the cord, and the thing seals up. It’s padded inside, but you’re still supposed to strap in. It ejects from the ship—or just comes free and floats to the surface—and automatically starts sending a distress signal. Included in the gizmo is a tiny entertainment center with recorded music and video, some temperature control, rations, water, and some basic-but-awkward sanitary facilities.
It still reminded me of a coffin. Maybe it was the lack of windows.
“How many of these things do we have on board?”
“Four.”
“So it’s you, me, and whoever grabs one first?”
“There’s also inflatable life rafts and the motor launch.”
“Ah, yes.” I shook my head. “The floating coffin is probably my best bet, sunshine-wise.”
“I agree. I’d hate for you to melt through an inflatable raft. Could make trouble for everyone else in it.”
“No kidding. So, did the Captain mention how long it’ll take to reach Livorno?”
“He says it’ll be about a week. Then we can get started on your master plan, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And what, if I may ask, is the master plan?”
“Ah, that. Good thing you’re seated; this is going to take some explaining.”
“I’m ready.”
“The short form is this. Johann has immense amounts of magical power at his disposal. He doesn’t have a lot of formal spells—at least, I don’t think so, not compared to the Magicians of Rethven—but he has rivers of power to run through the basic frameworks of spells. He’s capable of generating powerful effects just by concentrating. He’s also had time to settle in and fortify his position.
“Now, in Karvalen, I have magical defenses, yes, but I also have real fortifications, a couple of miles of tunnels, and people who are against the whole idea of assassinating their King. Johann, on the other hand, may have some zombie servants or conjured spirits or whatever, but from everything I’ve seen, he’s relying heavily on purely magical forces. And why shouldn’t he? He’s unquestionably the most powerful of all the magi in the world—possibly in the history of the world.
“I can’t face him in a straight magical duel and expect to live through it. So I have to level the playing field. That’s where the rest of the nexus points come in. I’ll be opening them, using them, to counter his power. Then it boils down to a case of my fangs and his throat, and in that fight, I know where to put my money.”
Mary nodded, thoughtfully.
“All right. But how will you find him? You want to do this at night, I assume, so how do you locate him without magic? He could be anywhere along the east coast.”
“I’ll persuade him to go where I want him to,” I told her, smugly. “You’ll see.”
“If you say so, I believe you. But you’d better be right.”
“I agree.”
Friday, January 15th
We took on fuel, food, and flying machine in Livorno without incident. Mary suggested spending the day in town while people took care of things. I didn’t see any reason to interfere with the smooth, efficient functioning of the ship, so we went ashore to tour through a beautiful Italian town, eat in little restaurants, and enjoy our last solid ground for a while.
We also did a little research, followed by some hunting around, and paid a visit to what I would think of as a particularly offensive establishment.
To be clear, I’m not in the habit of killing every criminal I come across. Drug dealers, prostitutes, pimps, muggers, thieves, and all the rest of the lower social classes of humanity are not on some hit list in my head. Everyone has to make a living somehow. I don’t particularly like such people, but if they’re not trying to do something unpleasant to me I’m generally content to ignore them.
Human trafficking is one of my hot buttons, though.
Child trafficking is one of my meltdown buttons.
The police arrived in a timely fashion. They found seven dismembered corpses and not a trace of blood. They also found eighteen children, boys and girls, ranging from six to twelve years old. The children were locked in basement cages and, thankfully, didn’t see most of what happened. The only thing they could say for certain was a shadow swallowed the man standing guard over them.
Boy, did he look surprised. His head continued to look surprised even after the police arrived. Sometimes, I think, certain types of people die more quickly than they deserve.
At least Mary and I are starting our trip with full tanks. I’d hate to have to snack on the staff.
Wednesday, January 20th
We’ve arrived at our first point, a nexus of five ley lines about five hundred miles off the coast of Portugal. I’ve spent the time preparing spells for the nexus; I don’t want to waste any time down there once I hit bottom. I’ve built the spells to handle as much power as possible, but I’m still concerned. I’ve never fooled around with a five line nexus. The biggest I ever opened was a four-way intersection. That was a phenomenal rush of energies. I’m hoping this is still within my limits.
Mary helped me get everything put together for my trip. I was only going about three miles, but it was through hostile terrain. I’ve never been to the ocean floor before.
I take that back. I’ve been to the ocean floor in the world of Karvalen. The natives, by and large, are friendly people. I like them. I’ve never been to the ocean floor of the Atlantic, however, and I anticipate a complete lack of friendly natives, with a distinct possibility of hungry native life.
Once the sun went down, I climbed into a fifty-five gallon drum made of a high-density plastic. They hooked the web handles of the netting to the winch and lowered me into the water. As they paid out the cable, I sank like the proverbial anchor—one of which was also attached.
Three miles in an airplane is nothing. In a car, it’s a short drive. On horseback—regular horseback—it’s a moderate trip. On foot, it’s a fair walk or a long run.
Sinking into the frigid depths of the Atlantic in January? It’s forever.
On the plus side, there’s a lot of marine life. I spread my tendrils like a dark, hungry cloud in the water. Everything brushing through them fed them, fed me, and I absorbed some piece of the vitality of the ocean.
“How’s the view?” Mary asked. Her voice had a bit of a blurry sound to it, but it was coming through special equipment. The ship unit modulated her voice into lower-frequency sounds before putting it through an underwater loudspeaker aimed down at me. A unit in my helmet shifted this low-frequency sound up to normal levels again. It wasn’t really intended for use at the depths we were shooting for, but it was worth a shot.
I, however, could not shout back at her. My signaling was via laser light in the blue-green range. I flashed the hand unit up, sweeping it back and forth to signal “Yes.”
“Still hear me okay?”
I signaled another affirmative as I continued to sink.
Shortly thereafter, I didn’t hear her at all. As we feared, the helmet unit, not rated for such depth, made crunching noises as it quit. I’d already flooded my helmet and breathed water to equalize pressures to avoid a similar fate. Dead is dead, but crushed is another matter.
Still, as I continued to be lowered, I signaled the loss of communications. I also felt the pressure starting to mount. Under three miles of water the pressure is over seven thousand pounds per square inch—or about double the pressure found in a high-capacity scuba tank.
Let me put it another way. With a fully-charged air bottle, if I stood on the ocean floor and aimed the bottle down, I could open the valve and water would rush into the “low-pressure” zone—assuming it didn’t crush the bottle, first.
The strange thing is, I felt the compression, but it didn’t hurt. I didn’t have any air to speak of inside me by this point and my body is mostly fluid, anyway. It felt weird, but not exactly painful. The slightly itchy feeling of regeneration told me it wasn’t good for me, but not so bad. I could move all right and even see pretty well. The abyssal darkness wasn’t an issue, of course, not with vampire eyes, but the natural fog of the particulate suspended in the ocean’s water reduced visibility to a hundred yards or so.
On the other hand, the glow of ley lines at the bottom of the ocean is easy to see, once you get down there.
We were mostly on target. Close enough, anyway. I tried to flash my laser up at the Princess, but the laser, even in a machined steel housing, hadn’t survived the last mile of the trip. Oh, well. The Princess had sonar, but I wasn’t clear on how far it could reach. If all else failed, they had detailed charts and knew I had to be approaching the ocean floor. The guys on winch duty slowed my rate of descent when I was within a few hundred yards of the bottom, which was nice. The vampire in the bucket made landfall without much trouble.
Step one: Descend into the abyss. Check.
I climbed out of my bucket and waited for some silt to settle. The Princess quit paying out cable after a moment; the tension change told them I hit bottom. It was nice to find the ocean floor in this region wasn’t too awful for walking. The ground was mud, but only about ankle-deep. I could power through it with no more trouble than wading through a child’s ball pit. The water would slow me slightly, but that was expected. Supernatural strength would let me move quickly if I needed to. No problem.
I cracked the chemical light attached to the cable; losing my ride would be a bad thing. After planting the anchor to keep the cable from wandering off too far, I unhooked the barrel. The barrel and the flares were my insurance policy if I lost the cable. Safety is job one, you know.
Finding the center of the nexus was a lot simpler than the last time. I came prepared. No makeshift compass needles and such, now. Now I knew what I was looking for and had spells for it. Raising containment shields and setting up concealing screens took more time than the actual opening of the nexus, itself. Of course, after that, there were several other spells to set up. The disruption launcher, for one, but also the sensor spells to detect my command to activate, the power capacitors to build up the charge before launching, all those things. It took a while.
Once I had my nexus surprise set up for Johann, I headed back along my mud-trail to hunt for my chemlight and cable. I found them, hooked on the bucket, climbed in, and sent up the signal.
Underwater rocketry is not an exact science. However, there are chemicals which burn underwater. The burning chemicals change the buoyancy of the signaling rig. Since it’s connected to the cable by a large plastic ring, it will eventually surface at the Princess and they’ll reel me in like a quarter-ton chicken of the sea.
Meanwhile, I sat quietly in my bucket, like a good corpse, and waited. Even if a playful octopus swiped the chemlight before it got to the surface, they would start cranking up the winch on a schedule. I should, at the latest, be pulled aboard an hour before dawn.
Surprisi
ngly, there’s a deep-sea diver’s watch specifically made to function under water. It’s a mechanical device, not electronic, and it isn’t sealed. I think it’s an ingenious piece of work. Water is supposed to get in and equalize the pressure so it can function at any depth. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work when it’s not underwater. The movement of the internal mechanisms is different in air—the watch runs far too fast. It needs to be full of water to keep time properly!
I could have been bored, but, as long as I was down here, building a better version of some of my spells might be worthwhile… This nexus was as far away as we would get from Johann. It would also be the one to fire the opening shot of the war. I wanted to attract his attention to a place far-distant, first, so everything else—all of it closer—could then clobber him unmercifully. This called for different sorts of command and control spells, as well as slightly different versions of my magic-disruption spell.
All that time, preparing and thinking and experimenting. Some of it wasted, some of it useful, but all of it coming together now. I had a plan. I was working the plan. The plan might even work.
The bucket jerked as the cable went taut. I was on my way up from the depths. Not to waste the opportunity, I spread my tendrils again.
Upon returning to the Princess, I knew exactly what to do. I’ve been in the ocean depths before. I know the drill. Hang upside-down, take deep breaths, and drain the lungs before dawn. It’s important to have everything sorted out before the sunrise.
I wonder if I could persuade some of the otherworldly sea-people to come over and help me? It would beat the pants off this fishing for nexuses with vampire bait. But, alas, that would involve more gates…
The crew wondered what I was doing, of course, when I had myself lowered into the ocean. I didn’t bother to explain when I left, and certainly didn’t say anything when I returned. It’s hard to talk with lungs full of seawater. Instead, I headed straight down to the bathroom to strip, drain, and shower.