Tech Mage: The Magitech Chronicles Book 1

by Chris Fox

  The armor tingled as she entered it, lifting her into place, then solidifying around her. It fit her like a second skin, conforming to her entire body. The faceplate flared to life, displaying a paper doll representation of the armor in the lower right corner. Next to it sat three red cylinders that she guessed corresponded to the potion loaders Bord had shown her.

  The armor’s interior smelled of sweat, and the material made her skin itch. She didn’t enjoy the feeling, but being in the armor was still exciting. She liked the idea of flying, even while she was terrified she’d be bad at it.

  “Now what?” she asked, grinning. Excitement tingled through her.

  “Now,” Crewes boomed, clomping over to her. “You wipes and I are going to go for a little space walk. Stick close, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Wait,” Aran called, turning his armor to face Crewes. “Aren’t we in the Umbral Depths?”

  “So?” Crewes asked, staring Aran down as he clamped a helmet down over his face. The stylized skull was somehow less intimidating than the man’s dark scowls.

  “What does he mean? What are the Umbral Depths?” Nara demanded. The words filled her with clawing terror, though there was nothing tangible she could latch onto.

  She didn’t know what the depths were, but she knew she was right to be afraid.

  15

  The Umbral Depths

  Aran tensed, his entire body reacting to the words Umbral Depths. Even with no specific memory, they evoked dread. So he focused on what he could control.

  Like the spellblade, his spellarmor was maddeningly familiar. He knew how it worked, knew how to guide it through a tight turn, and how to avoid enemy fire. He also knew, somehow, that doing any of that in the Umbral Depths would be like lighting a massive flare for anything that lived here.

  That terrified him. Not just the knowledge, but the lack of context. How did he know these things? And what else did he know? Did he have the skills to deal with whatever they encountered out there? Could he trust Nara, or even Crewes? Once again, he had nothing but questions. It was getting old. Fast.

  “Let’s move. Bord, Kez, wait here. I’ll hop on the comm if we need anything,” Crewes rumbled, walking his armor toward a blue-green membrane that was all that separated them from space.

  Aran gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to punch Crewes in the back of his armored head. He willed the armor to follow, and it drifted gracefully in Crewes’s wake. His breath was loud in his ears, accompanied by the soft hiss of the environmental regulator.

  Nara fell into place next to him, matching his pace. She’d had no trouble donning her armor, and guided it with precision—certainly more than she’d shown with a rifle. They stopped right inside the membrane. Inky blackness lurking beyond.

  “Why are they staying here?” Nara asked, crowding closely behind the sergeant. Her suit turned to face Bord and Kez, though Aran couldn’t see her face through the faceplate.

  “Because they can’t fly. That requires void, or fire magic. Air magic will work if we’re in an atmosphere,” Crewes said. He stepped through the membrane, and into the blackness beyond. “If they fall off the ship, they’ll tumble endlessly through the depths. Since you two wipes have gravity magic, you’ve at least got a chance to make it back. Besides, they’ve already got experience. You two are greener than that slop they feed us. Now let’s get moving.”

  Crewes leapt through the membrane, his warped form moving to stand outside the ship. After a moment, his voice crackled from a pair of speakers near Aran’s ears. “We’ll use the comm to communicate, but keep chatter to a minimum.”

  “You’ll be fine out there, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Bord said, smiling encouragingly. Then he seemed to doubt his own words, and his face fell. He turned to Kez. “Wait, there’s nothing to be afraid of, right? I mean, I’ve never seen the sarge take a space walk. Not into the Umbral Depths.”

  “They’ll be joost fine,” Kez said, waving at them with an utter lack of concern. “There are wards in place that obscure the ship’s magical signature from the things that live out here.”

  “Why is he taking us out there?” Aran asked, the more paranoid part of him wondering if Crewes might want to arrange some sort of accident.

  “I don’t know, but I’d follow him,” Bord cautioned, “and quickly. Sarge isn’t patient.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that,” Aran said. He guided the armor through the membrane, and out of the ship.

  Nara followed a moment later, and the pair stood facing the ship’s long, sloped deck. It stretched into the black, disappearing into the darkness. There were no stars, no nebulas. Nothing but impenetrable black all around them.

  Crewes voice came from speakers. “Follow me. Keep your eyes sharp, and don’t leave the deck. If you get higher than three meters, you’ll be outside the Hunter’s protective wards.”

  Aran felt something hot and violent, an unfamiliar magical energy, stir in Crewes. The thruster on the back of Crewes’s armor fired, and he drifted slowly along the deck, cutting a path into the darkness. Aran willed his armor to follow, and it obeyed. It took almost no power, barely touching his reserves as he trailed in Crewes’s wake.

  “Sergeant?” Nara’s hesitant voice came from the speakers. “Why did you bring us out here?”

  “Because,” Crewes rumbled back, “we’ve got too many jobs, and not enough hands to do them. You wipes need to learn to use that armor, and I ain’t got time for funsy drills. We’re going to the aft spellcannon. There’s a blockage lodged in the barrel. A blockage that showed up after we entered the depths. You two are going to help me remove that blockage.”

  “How?” Aran hopped over the angled joint where two of the ship’s armored plates met. He forced his spellarmor to remain close to the hull, glancing up uneasily. He couldn’t see anything, but there were things lurking in that darkness, he was certain of it.

  “With the gods-damned spellrifles you’ve been training on,” Crewes snapped. “Aran, I’m gonna ask this right now. It’s only me, you, and your best friend Nara. This is a safe place, so you can be honest. Are you slow? Head injury, maybe? Because that was the most obvious damned question I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? That’s the most obvious question? You realize that we aren’t carrying rifles, right? How do we fire a weapon we don’t have?” Aran snapped, following Crewes toward the a truly massive cannon. The dark metal barrel ran along the bottom of the ship then disappeared into the body of the vessel.

  The sergeant didn’t reply. It was a good thing Aran didn’t have a rifle, because he knew exactly who he’d use it on right now.

  Long moments passed as they followed the sergeant across the hull. Aran tried to ignore the smothering darkness above. His breath was loud in his ears, and he couldn’t shake the sense that something could creep up behind him and he’d never hear it.

  Nara finally broke the silence. “Sir, are you sure it’s safe out here? I don’t think we’re alone.”

  “Of course it ain’t safe. You’re not a union worker. You are a depths-damned tech mage. No part of your job is safe,” Crewes scolded. “Besides, we don’t have much choice. Something is blocking the barrel, and if we can’t fire the cannon we’re defenseless.”

  “We couldn’t wait to fix this until we exited the depths?” Aran asked, unable to resist staring up at the blackness.

  “If we had the manpower, maybe,” Crewes said. He crawled over the lip of the barrel, disappearing inside. “We’ve only got a handful of tech mages, and all of us are pulling triple duty. By the time we get to where we’re going, I need to have you two wipes ready for combat. We won’t have time for recess, like we’re doing now.”

  Aran kept his thoughts about recess to himself, climbing over the lip and into the barrel. It stretched before him, the other side so high above it disappeared into darkness.

  “How do we clear this without weapons?” Nara asked, echoing Aran’s earlier question. “You’ve got that cannon, but
we only have our hands.”

  “I can’t get my brain around how little you wipes know. You’ve never heard of a void pocket?” Crewes asked, as if it were the single most basic question that had ever been asked of anyone. This despite the fact that he knew they’d been recently wiped and had no chance of knowing what the hells he was talking about.

  “The weapons are stored in a sort of pocket dimension,” Crewes continued. “You should be able to feel it, above your face and to the right.”

  Aran stretched out an armored hand. Probing. Much to his surprise he found a cubby, only a foot wide and four feet tall. It existed alongside normal space, invisible to the naked eye. Thinking about it made the cubby go opaque, obscuring the space behind it.

  Within that pocket lay a gleaming rifle, the same kind they’d trained with the previous day. Aran picked it up, feeling it connect instantly with the armor. The armor bonded him to the rifle, allowing him to channel spells through it just like he would through his spellblade.

  A moment later, a rifle appeared in Nara’s hand as well. “You’re a quick study.”

  “Thank you,” Nara replied, sounding a little surprised.

  “Neither of you has ever, in the history of anything, been described as quick. At anything. Now listen up, wipes. We’re going to march down this barrel. I’m going to move up the center. You two will stick to the shadows, and don’t do shit unless I tell you to.”

  “Sir, what kind of debris are we clearing?” Aran asked. The advance the sergeant had ordered sounded more like a tactical advance, with him as bait.

  “Who said anything about debris? I said we’re out here to clear a blockage.” He advanced into the darkness, the light from his thrusters creating a halo around him.

  Aran fell back, moving slowly to the right. Nara circled around to the left, raising her rifle awkwardly to her shoulder.

  “Not yet,” Aran explained quietly. “Keep your arm relaxed until you need it, or your muscles will tense up.” He demonstrated how his own rifle was held loosely in his armored hand. Nara mimicked the gesture, then gave a thumbs up.

  Crewes increased his thrust, widening the pool of light around him. He zoomed along the inside of the barrel, illustrating how large the battleship must be. Aran’s original guess of four hundred meters seemed fairly accurate. The weapon could house a small city block inside the barrel alone.

  “Contact,” Crewes barked, as shapes descended from the darkness. Bat-like creatures dove at the sergeant. “Pick them off as they come at me.”

  The creatures moved too quickly to get a proper look, but Aran had the impression of a long tail, and sharp, curved horns. Crewes raised his rifle, unloading on the first creature that dared to close. Its charred form was blasted backward and spun away, untethered by gravity.

  Aran snapped his rifle to his shoulder, sighting at the next bat-thing. He saw a face and stroked the trigger. The rifle wrenched power from his chest, flinging a nearly invisible bolt of dark energy at the bat. The creature took the bolt in the face, and half its skull disintegrated. Its body slammed into the barrel, spattering Crewes’s armor with black ichor.

  One of the creatures curled a tail around Crewes’s rifle, attempting to yank it loose. Crewes laughed then yanked the creature toward him, seizing its skull with one armored hand. He crushed it, and more ichor spattered his armor. “Bad move.”

  Aran sighted, then took down another bat-thing. Beside him, Nara had her rifle raised. She still hadn’t fired.

  “They’re moving too quickly,” she protested. The rifle barrel moved as she sought a target.

  “Switch to your sidearm, then,” Aran suggested, lining up a kill shot on a third bat. He guessed there were a dozen total, but the sergeant’s wild cannon shots were thinning that number. “You sacrifice a little range, but, as someone who’s been on the receiving end of you with a spellpistol, I think it will be a lot more effective.”

  Nara flung the rifle back into the void pocket, replacing it with a much smaller spellpistol. It was larger than the one she’d used to subdue him back on Xal, but her armor compensated for the size difference. She cradled the weapon in both hands, seeking a target.

  A ring of purplish sigils appeared around the end of the barrel, and the weapon brightened as Nara discharged her spell. Aran didn’t recognize the magic, though it was similar to the spell she’d used on the slaves.

  The bright purple bolt shot into the sergeant’s armor, and a wave of blinding light pulsed outward. Aran’s faceplate protected him, but he imagined the bats were probably blinded—assuming they even had eyes.

  When the light faded, Aran understood the true purpose of the spell. Four identical versions of Crewes now stood in a rough quartet. The confused bats retreated, circling as they attempted to settle on a target. One finally dove, face contorting in a silent screech as it passed harmlessly through the illusion of Crewes. The creature slammed into the deck, trying to hop back to its feet.

  The real Crewes stepped forward, ending the bat with a burst from his cannon.

  Aran raised his rifle again and picked off another bat, then another. After several more shots, there was no more movement in the darkness.

  “Maybe you wipes aren’t a complete waste.” Crewes slung his cannon over his shoulder as he guided his armor into the air. “Let’s get back inside.”

  “Sergeant?” Aran asked, thinking if ever there was a time to get away with a question it was now. His anger had faded, giving way to curiosity.

  “Yeah?” Crewes rumbled.

  “How did you know the bats were here?” he asked. “It made sense to clear them, and I get why you brought Nara and me. We need the experience. What I don’t get is how you knew they were out there.”

  “I’ve got fire magic, wipe,” Crewes explained, though much of the heat had gone from his voice. “That’s more than just burning things. The major has been teaching me flame reading. Divination lets me see zeros and stains before they become a problem. Now get your ass back inside. We’ve got more work to do.”

  16

  Not My War

  Aran collapsed onto the bunk, his cheek resting against the coarse sheet. He groaned, partly at the pain his landing had caused, and partly in relief because he wasn’t expected to move any longer.

  Killing the bats had been merely a morning warm-up. They’d gone through a full battery of physical training, taken a break for lunch, then spent the afternoon back in the spellarmor. Crewes had forced them to use every bit of their spellpower, until neither could conjure even a single void bolt.

  “I have never been this tired,” Nara muttered, crashing onto the bunk next to his.

  Aran glanced over at her, struck once again by those eyes. It was already growing more difficult to remind himself that this woman had repeatedly screwed him. Part of him wondered if that woman even existed any more. Maybe he should give the new Nara a chance.

  “Tomorrow will be worse,” Bord said, dropping onto the bunk next to Nara’s. “You both did well though. Crewes yelled less than I expected.”

  Aran pulled himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the wall. His arms shook, after-effects of the mixture of free weights and endless pushups. He had the sense that Bord assumed he was a romantic rival for Nara, but beyond being standoffish, the shorter man hadn’t said much to him.

  “He’s not lying about tomorrow.” Kez walked up, kicking Aran’s leg out of the way and sitting next to him on his cot. She swirled a tin mug with a dark liquid in it. “This is the last of the beer. Figured after today the both of you’d earned a sip.”

  She offered the mug to Aran, and he accepted it. The beer was bitter, but the spreading warmth was worth it. Aran passed the mug to Nara, who took it with a nod. She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, exposing her freckles, and took a mouthful of beer. Her nose crinkled in distaste as she swallowed.

  “Crewes can’t possibly come up with anything worse than today,” Aran muttered. “Please tell me he can’t.”
/>
  “If he can, please just kill me now,” Nara mumbled, planting her face in her thin pillow.

  “Tomorrow he’ll give you individual assignments,” Bord explained. “I have a feeling Aran’s going to get picked to go to the commissary.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad,” Aran said, watching Bord suspiciously. “Especially not after PT. What’s the catch?”

  “Catch is you need to go through the Marines to reach the commissary,” Kez said, laughing. “They’re not overly fond of us, and they look for any opportunity to show it. Making a run for supplies is a sure way to get an ass kicking. It’s joost the state o’ things.”

  “Why do the Marines hate us?” Nara asked, sitting up.

  “Because we get fancy spellarmor, and spellrifles, and potions. But mostly because the Captain is an ass.” Kez finished her beer and set the cup on the floor under Aran’s bunk. “Thalas sees these people as fodder. They’re joost numbers, and they know that. Tech mages are strategic assets, which means that to Thalas we’re worth more. The Marines assume that all tech mages are like that fooker.”

  “I can’t really blame them for that,” Aran allowed. He was already fairly certain who was going to get picked to go on this little milk run.

  “Yeah, especially if you’d been at Starn,” Bord said, staring down at his lap. “We lost nine in ten Marines, and about half the tech mages bought it.” He looked up quickly, then back down again. “There were a lot of gaps. The major called for volunteers to become tech mages. She sent two dozen of us into the light. Those of us who survived made it out with some sort of magic. We rushed straight into battle against the Krox, and they tore most of us apart. Kez and I were lucky enough to survive.”

  “And it was luck,” Kez said, her pretty mouth turning down into a frown. She brushed golden hair from her face, eyeing Aran soberly. “Watched the fellow next to me get torn apart by a Krox enforcer. Then I watched that man’s corpse get back up and start killin’ his own friends. They broke us. If the major hadn’t pulled out some incredible casting, we’d all have died. As it was, we barely escaped. We haven’t been a full unit since. Those of us who survived know our survival is temporary. You’ve already met the lot of us. Crewes, me, Bord, and Captain Tight Ass. Four tech mages, in a company that’s supposed to have twelve to twenty. The next time we fight the Krox, we’re all going to die. There joost aren’t enough of us left to win.”