Void Wyrm: The Magitech Chronicles Book 2

by Chris Fox

  Another hunk of metal ripped loose from the impact point in the mess, and two of the bunks tore off and streaked away from the ship. The whole thing would come apart long before they hit the ground.

  He strained to lean closer, pressing his mouth to her ear. “Teleport us to the cargo bay!”

  “What?” she yelled back.

  “Cargo bay!” he roared, pointing at that part of the ship.

  Nara’s eyes widened in understanding. She seized him around the waist with one hand and sketched a void sigil with the other. It was the first time he’d seen her hard-cast the spell, instead of soft-casting it through a spellpistol.

  Reality spun and twisted, and suddenly they appeared in a river of flame. Aran roared, flinging himself atop Nara and pinning her to the deck. The heat baked his exposed skin, but moving out of the direct flame turned what could have been third-degree burns into a memorably bad sunburn.

  Aran rolled off Nara, and she flipped over onto her hands and knees. They crawled under the torrent of flame bisecting the room, rushing from an exposed electrical conduit on one wall straight out an enormous hole in the side of the ship.

  He was still holding his breath, and black spots danced across his vision as he crawled closer to his armor. He stood for the last few meters, staggering to the suit, and seized it with one hand, then sketched the void sigil in front of the chest with the other. He threw himself at the armor, sinking inside.

  A moment later the HUD came to life and the armor settled comfortably around his skin. Cool air flowed into the helmet, and he sucked in several greedy breaths. Nara had reached her armor as well, and was now carrying the staff he’d seen earlier.

  He spoke into the new comm system. “Can you see me?”

  Nara’s face appeared in a little window in the corner. “Yeah, I can see you. Fancy.”

  “Do you have a way to slow down the ship? We can try guiding it in with our suits, but I don’t know what to do about it breaking up on re-entry.” Aran extended a hand, willing his void pocket to open. He retrieved his spellrifle, breathing past the pain in his back as his armored hand settled around the grip.

  Nara’s face shifted to a frown. “I don’t have any brilliant ideas. I guess let’s get outside and see what we can do.”

  30

  ANY LANDING YOU CAN WALK AWAY FROM

  The ancient cockpit shuddered again, and the monitor went dark. Lights died all around them, leaving them in relative darkness except for the hellish glow of re-entry heating the hull.

  Voria took a single deep breath, then acted. She snapped a hand up, sketching a fire sigil, then a dream. She added several more, and the spell resolved into a hole in reality. The scry-portal looked down on the planet from above the ship, showing her not only their flight but the terrain below, as if it were lit by a bright moon.

  She could see their destination in the distance, a single looming mountain several hundred clicks from where she estimated their landing site would be. That would take days to cross—days they didn’t have.

  “Sergeant Crewes, I have a task for you,” she ordered, her attention still focused on the scry-portal, a complex third-level spell she rarely needed to cast.

  “Sir?” Crewes responded. His dark skin had been pale the entire trip, and she knew the depths wore on him even more than the rest of them.

  “I want you to move to the starboard side of the ship. Find an existing hole or make a new one; I don’t care. I want you to fire every spell you have, one after another. Push the ship’s course. Angle it that way, to the southwest. We need to come down near that mountain, as close as you can get us.”

  “Uh, sir, my spells aren’t going to do shit to move this tub. It’s too big.”

  She considered, but only for an instant. “Then we’ll need to reduce our weight. Detach the rear. That part of the ship is already heavily damaged. Finish the job, and we’ll be light enough for your spells to manage.”

  “I got two problems with that, sir. First, Nara and Aran are back there.” The sergeant unbuckled his harness. “But more importantly? My armor is back there. I blow the ship, and that armor is toast. Half our squad is toast.”

  “If you don’t blow the ship we’re toast. Sergeant, you understand we are not crashing because of a malfunction, yes? Something hostile fired on us from the surface. They’re going to come after us the instant we touch down, and this is their territory. They know it far better than we.” She unbuckled her own harness, and wove toward what remained of the mess. She caught herself against the wall near the door. “I’m sorry about your armor, but this is necessary. Besides, Aran and Nara are far more likely to survive the crash than we ourselves.”

  The sergeant didn’t reply.

  Voria seized the bulkhead, and focused on the span of metal joining the mess to the rear of the ship. It was torn and battered, and the heat had stressed it further. In all likelihood it would tear free soon of its own accord; she just needed to hasten the process.

  Her hand shot up and she sketched a third-level void bolt. It shot into the bulkhead, hitting the already damaged section. A two-meter hole punched through that area, and the ship split instantly. The rear segment plummeted toward the planet below, while their section was flung spinning the opposite direction.

  “Sergeant, our lives are in your hands,” she roared, fighting the vertigo as the ship spun. “Stabilize our flight and get us falling in the right direction. I’ll do what I can to soften our landing.”

  Crewes moved swiftly to her position, grabbing the bulkhead next to her. “You know, sir, sometimes I really hate the way you do things.” He extended a tree-trunk arm, the muscles bunching as he aimed his spellcannon carefully away from them.

  He fired. Their rotation slowed.

  He fired again. The spin became lazy, and she could see the mountain now. The vertigo abated slightly, though if she’d had breakfast she was sure she’d have lost it.

  The wind howled around them as the cockpit section fell toward a deep valley below. She sucked in a breath, and yelled into his ear, “If you see a body of water, try to aim for that.”

  His cannon kicked again, then two more times in quick succession. Voria could feel the immense magical energy pouring through the sergeant, and Crewes used it to great effect. Their flight was an even arc now, aimed toward a rippling lake near the center of the valley.

  “Let’s get buckled in.” Voria clawed her way back to the closest seat, which happened to be next to Pickus. His freckled face was buried in his hands, and he was whispering quietly to himself.

  Crewes made it to the chair across from them. He buckled his spellcannon into the chair next to him, then buckled himself in. The howling of the wind dropped an octave.

  “We’re below the mountains now. Brace yourselves!”

  She winced, wishing she could see how close they were. There was no way of—

  Voria was slammed into her restraints, her head rebounding off the foam cushion behind her. The ship was still for a moment, then began to list.

  “We’re sinking. Let’s go. Move, now!” Voria unbuckled her harness, then turned to Pickus. Blood flowed freely from a gash on his forehead. She grabbed him with both hands. “Let me take a look. It’s superficial. You’ll be fine, assuming we survive the next few minutes. Get it together, Pickus. I need you on your feet and moving.”

  “Yes, uh … yes, sir.” He nodded, then picked his glasses up from the floor. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “We’re going to have to swim.” She pushed him gently toward the area where the mess used to be, which was already submerged. “Swim hard for the shore.”

  “What if there’s monsters in the water?”

  “Then our day is about to get a whole lot worse.” Voria stripped off her jacket and tied it tightly around her waist. She couldn’t have it impede her, but she also didn’t want to lose it. She’d want it later.

  Voria dove into the water, gasping out an air bubble as the icy shock hit her. It was far, far co
lder than she’d assumed. Were it not for the resistance Marid had given her, she’d probably already be hypothermic.

  Pickus would never make it. She sketched a water sigil, then added a fire. The water pushed back in all directions, creating a bubble. She swam toward Pickus as he entered the water, then pushed him into the bubble. The bit of fire would keep him warm, but would also burn oxygen.

  Voria willed the bubble upward, and swam next to it as they moved in what she hoped was the direction of the shore. With no source of light, it was impossible to know. She considered taking the time to cast a divination spell to aid her vision, but decided to save the magic. Using it might draw the attention of whoever waited on the shore, and she was absolutely positive whoever had shot them down would be there as quickly as they were able.

  It took another few minutes to reach the shore, and Voria’s entire body had gone numb. She climbed wearily onto the shore, giving a half-smile when she heard Pickus cough a few meters away.

  He groaned, pulling himself to his feet. “Let’s not do that again.”

  “Be silent,” she hissed. “We have no idea what’s out here, or how close. Hold still a moment.”

  She cast a starlight spell, imbuing herself and Pickus with magical vision. Its range was limited, but they could see fifty meters as if it were a night under a full moon.

  She breathed a little easier when she spotted no immediate threat. “Follow me. We’re going to circle the shoreline until we find some sign of Crewes. Look for anything, and let me know if you spot him.”

  “I—It’s r—really cold.” Pickus’s teeth chattered and he clutched his arms around his sodden overalls.

  “Walking will warm you.” Voria started up the shore, keeping low to the group, and scanning the rocky cliffs above. Her own teeth chattered, but she’d long ago grown comfortable with such rigors.

  There was no vegetation she could see, which made perfect sense. Vegetation required sunlight. If they found anything here, it would likely be some sort of fungus.

  A sudden flash lit the night, and an explosion came from the far side of the lake. The magma spell, Crewes’s trademark attack, illuminated the terrain for a moment, arcing into a creature about the size of a Krox enforcer.

  The creature had a pallid white exoskeleton. Too many legs scuttled underneath it as it sought to avoid the sergeant’s attack. It screeched when the magma exploded, splashing over the cluster of eyes in its hideous face. Eight eyes.

  The screech wasn’t pained; it was angry. A moment later, it was answered from the hillsides above—answered by many different throats.

  The first creature scuttled toward Crewes, wiping magma from its face as if it were nothing but an irritation. Crewes fired again, and this time the creature dodged. It chittered a stream of what might be words in his direction, gesticulating with two of its legs. Then it charged.

  Crewes charged, too. Voria judged the distance between them, then her relative distance from both. She sketched a quick void sigil and teleported to the opposite shore. The creature hadn’t noticed her, so Voria cast a third-level void bolt.

  It sailed into the creature’s thorax, disintegrating a huge segment of carapace. Greenish ichor leaked out, and the creature aborted its charge.

  “Yeah, you better run,” Crewes taunted the retreating creature. “She’s got more where that came from.” He spun to face her, his confidence melting. “That thing’s buddies are about to show up, and they’re resistant to fire. I can feel it. My rounds ain’t doing shit to them.”

  “You’ve got water magic now, as well. You must remember that, sergeant. It may save your life,” Voria pointed out. “We don’t know how these things react to the cold. Try ice next time, and see if you have any better luck.”

  Many sets of eyes appeared on the rocks above them.

  31

  MINI-DRAKKON

  Aran tumbled into the bulkhead as the ship jerked violently, then began to spin. He caught himself, clinging to the side of the cargo hold. “We’re in free fall.”

  Nara clung to the opposite wall. “I think the rear part of the ship just sheared off. How do you want to handle this?”

  “If we leave the sergeant’s armor he’ll never forgive us. Can you ’port it out of here?” Aran pulled his spellblade from a void pocket, and dropped his rifle inside.

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you outside.” She kicked off the wall and tackled the sergeant’s spellarmor, then sketched a quick set of sigils with much the same skill the major would have used.

  Aran blinked. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who’d been training hard.

  Nara warped out of existence, both her and the sergeant’s spellarmor carried safely outside the ship. Aran rammed his spellblade into the wall. He used the suit’s enhanced strength to cut himself a hole, then dropped the spellblade back into the void pocket.

  “Let’s hope we’re not about to hit.” He crawled through the hole and kicked off the side of the ship. It spun away from him, and Aran tumbled end over end for several seconds until he regained control of his armor. He poured a trickle of void into the suit, grinning like a kid when it responded instantly. He hadn’t used his spellarmor since playing cat and mouse with Ree, and he’d missed it.

  The rear section of the ship slammed into the valley below, detonating spectacularly. The sudden light exposed dozens of creatures that evoked a nameless dread in Aran. He knew these awful things. At some point, he’d faced one. Where or how, he didn’t know.

  “Arachnidrakes,” he murmured into the comm.

  “Is that what these things are?” Nara asked. “Let’s hope they’re not as hostile as they look, because there sure are a lot of them.”

  “We need to get to Voria before they do. Come on.” Aran leaned into the turn, zipping high above the terrain as he followed the path to the cockpit crash site.

  “There they are. I can see explosions.” Nara pulled even with him. She carried the sergeant’s armor in both hands, struggling to maintain altitude.

  “Get that to Crewes. I’ll lay down some suppression fire.” Aran dropped fifty meters, flying fast and low just above the deck.

  A creature banked above him, and Aran rolled out of the way as a spiked tail plunged through the space he’d just occupied. It had wings like a Wyrm, and its flesh was scaled, but it had eight legs, and eight eyes. “My new friend here has a seventy-meter wingspan. This thing is serious. I’m going to have to deal with him. Get to Crewes and Voria.”

  Aran dove, slipping into a narrow trench as the terrible drake followed. It slammed into the edge of the trench, and the collision sent a hail of rock spray down on him. He spun out of the way, dodging almost all of them. A head-sized rock pinged off his shoulder, and a light yellow warning appeared on the paper doll.

  “My turn.” Aran raised his spellrifle. This spell was still theoretical, but everything he’d learned from Erika suggested it was possible. He poured an equal measure of void, water and air into the spell.

  A core of dense ice formed in the center, wrapped in a layer of void energy. Lightning crackled around it all, waiting to discharge. Aran sighted down the scope, centering the reticle over the arachnidrake’s thorax. “That looks pretty important.”

  He stroked the trigger, and the rifle yanked still more magic from his chest. It flung the spell at the arachnidrake, who made no move to avoid it. The void energy boiled away scales and muscle, and the ice lance punctured the thorax. The lightning crackled down the ice, into the creature’s flesh.

  The drake shrieked, kicking off from the ledge and flapping out of sight. Aran waited several moments, but could neither see nor hear anything. He flung himself upward out of the crevasse and took evasive action the instant he reached open sky. There was no sign of the arachnidrake.

  “Nara, do you copy?” Aran asked as he gained elevation.

  “I’ve reached the rest of the Company. Crewes is getting into his armor now. The major is counterspelling their attacks so far. I’m not sure how long she c
an keep it up. I get the sense they’re just probing our defenses.” She paused for a moment and her face appeared on his screen. “I don’t see how we’re going to get out of this one. How the depths are we going to deal with hundreds of these things? We need shelter, but I don’t see anything.”

  Aran glided closer, studying the creatures below. “They’re communicating. If they’re intelligent, then they understand self-preservation. I bet these things have never seen a Wyrm the size of Drakkon. Any chance you can create something like that?”

  “I’ve never tried an illusion that size.” She pursed her lips. “Hmm, how about a mini-Drakkon?”

  She began to sketch, and a moment later light flared above them, and every octet of eyes turned up to face it. The spiders quivered, retreating slightly as they saw what Nara had created. It was Drakkon, down to the last scale. The illusion was maybe a quarter of Drakkon’s actual size, but that still meant a three- or four-hundred-meter wing span.

  A group of spiders broke, scurrying for the shadows. That triggered the avalanche, and they all scattered—all but the arachnidrake Aran had tangled with. It swooped down at the illusion, which Nara guided out of its path.

  “I need to focus to keep this spell under control.” Nara’s voice conveyed the strain; Aran was amazed she could still speak while maintaining a spell of that magnitude. “Can you stop that thing before it exposes the illusion to the little ones?”

  “On it.” He zipped skyward, peppering the arachnidrake with level-one void bolts. That got its attention. It winged away from the mini-Drakkon, flapping in his direction.

  The drake’s mouth opened and it vomited hundred of sticky white tendrils. Those tendrils each moved independently, as if alive, writhing in Aran’s direction.

  “Man, I hate magic sometimes. Sentient spider webs? What god thought that was a good idea?”