The Factory Core knew, of course, that Grakk’n was sending messengers back to the Infernal Realm, and it had a good idea of why he was doing this. The Core had no intention of giving any ground to the Demon Horde, or easing up on them at all, no matter what kind of backup came up from the fiery pits of the core of the planet.
It was ready for the next phase of the battle. It was ready and waiting.
CHAPTER 25
The Factory Core examined the old tome via one of its many lenses. Before leaving the city, Bomfrey and the other top inventors had left some of their most valuable books with the Core. This had taken a great deal of persuading on Bomfrey’s part, as many of these rare works were worth more than their weight in gold, and the inventors had been terrified that these valuable artefacts would fall into the hands of the demons and be destroyed and lost forever. Bomfrey, however, had eventually managed to convince his peers that the priceless tomes would be safe in the heart of the Factory Core, and they had reluctantly left them there.
The books had not been given to the Core for safekeeping though; instead, their purpose was to provide the Core’s super-mind with as broad a knowledge base as possible. Using these manuscripts, it could draw on the information gleaned from hundreds, even thousands of years of dwarven experiments and research. In short, the Factory Core was condensing and storing all of this arcane knowledge and wisdom, gathered over many generations, and consolidating it into one place, one store.
In the book the Core was currently perusing were plans for a concentrated heat ray, to be used for cutting exceedingly hard substances like mithril and diamond, by concentrating a number of beams of immensely hot light into one single beam of pure intensity via a number of mirrors and different sized lenses. The research had been conducted by an ancient dwarven master engineer, but he had died before he had ever been able to put his research into practice.
The Factory Core, owing to the multiple lenses throughout its structure, was able to read many volumes simultaneously, and, using mechanical arms to flip through the pages, it could read a thousand page tome in only a few minutes. It had been going through the crates of valuable old books at an astonishing speed now that the demons had retreated from Karak-Drang, and it wasn’t under such pressure to fight back the relentless waves of attackers. It had found this particular title, about the concentration of heat and light into extremely potent beams that were capable of cutting through the hardest materials, to be very promising.
The demons’ skins were resistant to fire, that was true. But the Core knew that they were not completely impervious to heat damage. After all, demons were still organic beings, with organs, blood, bones and muscles. And as such, they had the same limitations as any other living being, even if they were a lot more resistant to heat.
Now that the Core had a little breathing room, as such, it was time for it to conduct a few more experiments. It had constructed a heat ray beam gun from a number of discarded pipes, tubes and lenses it had obtained from one of the workshops in Karak-Drang that specialized in telescopes, magnifying glasses, microscopes, and other such devices.
With this new beam gun it had made, it was able to produce a pencil-thin but extremely hot beam of light that was effective up to a couple of yards. If this worked against demon flesh, the Core planned to scale the beam gun up massively, making it into a beam cannon that would be functional up to hundreds of yards, and which could potentially blast through dozens of demon bodies simultaneously.
The Core had plenty of corpses on which to experiment, so once the beam gun was ready and working, it was time to check just how capable it was against creatures from the fiery Infernal Realm. Using heat against such creatures seemed counter-intuitive at first, as they came from a place of fire and brimstone, but the Core was convinced that the kind of heat the beam gun could generate was enough to overcome their natural resistance.
In its testing chamber, the Core hung up a fully intact demon corpse with meat hooks. These had been taken from a butchery in the city, and coated with silver to make them more effective at piercing the flesh. Then the Core lined up the little prototype beam gun with the subject, from just a yard away, and fired it up.
The beam gun was powered by the same heat crystals that powered the dwarven commanders’ battle suits. Those crystals were too weak on their own to generate much more than a small amount of heat and light, but when the heat and light from many of these crystals was amplified and redirected through a series of mirrors, tubes and lenses, the result was a fiercely intense beam.
The beam, a single, perfectly straight line of white heat, so bright that it was almost blinding, blasted out of the beam gun … and straight through the demon’s chest, leaving a perfect straight hole right through it, that you could see through. It was as if a surgical instrument, extremely precise, had removed a section of flesh.
The Core was pleased with the success of this experiment. The beam gun was not only perfect for blasting straight through demons, even more so than the most powerful muskets the dwarves had created, but it was also astoundingly accurate. Using perfectly calibrated telescopic lenses to guide the device, the heat beam could be aimed and could hit a target half the size of a penny. And by scaling this up, with a beam that was larger and effective at far greater distances, the accuracy would make for amazingly effective sniper weapons.
The Core shot a few more beams through different parts of the demon’s corpse, just to make sure that the first hit hadn’t been a fluke somehow. Each one of the immensely hot beams of heat it fired cut through the demon’s hide, flesh, organs and bone like a drill through soft, wet clay. Now that the Core was convinced that it had discovered a game changer, it just needed to scale up this model to make a far bigger, far stronger gun. Many of them, in fact.
The only question was: how fast could it build the huge beam guns that would become some of its strongest weapons in the fight against the demons?
The Core didn’t know the answer to this question yet. The prototype had taken quite a few hours to put together, even with all the mechanical arms, like hundreds of squid tentacles, it had at its disposal. Bigger guns would take far longer, and would need even more attention to detail to perfect. Fortunately, the Core was not a man, or a dwarf. It did not need to rest, to sleep … and the more it did something, the better it got at it. Not at a linear rate, the way an organic being would improve his skills and ability at a particular activity. No, the Core was able to improve on such things at an exponential rate. While the first huge beam gun it constructed might take half a day to put together, the next one would only take a few hours. Then, when it had truly perfected the art of manufacturing these tools, the next one would perhaps take thirty minutes, and so on.
Without further delay, the Core got its hundreds of mechanical arms going, grabbing tubes, crystals, mirrors and lenses. By the time dawn broke, it intended to have a number of beam guns ready for battle. The demons, the Core thought to itself, wouldn’t know what hit them. They were in for a big surprise.
A big, destructive surprise.
CHAPTER 26
“Astonishing,” said Randor, spellbound as he watched the huge mechanical spiders beating back the waves of demon warriors. “You have created a weapon that makes weapons … that don’t need soldiers to wield them. Truly, you dwarves have some amazing ideas.”
Archwright Bomfrey couldn’t help but smile with smug pride. “The Factory Core is by far the most important invention I have ever come up with,” he said. “And as I said, it is one that will likely change history.”
“Er, one that you and your team came up with,” interjected Akzad, a little sourly. He felt that Bomfrey was being a little unfair here by claiming all the credit for the creation of the Factory Core. “I was part of that team too, Bomfrey, and you’re forgetting perhaps that many of the Factory Core’s most important features were based on my ideas, and the ideas of other team leaders.”
“You’re right, yes,” said Bo
mfrey, uncharacteristically humble, which caught Akzad a little off guard. “It was not solely my idea, and I can’t take all the credit for it. But … I just can’t help getting excited about it! The Factory Core is performing beyond our wildest expectations! Did you see how ferociously those mechanical spiders fought? How they scattered the demons and cut them down like stalks of wheat! And how brutally effective the ‘wall of muskets and cannons’ in the City Watch Barracks was! By the God of the Forge, I’ve never seen anything like that!”
“And now the barracks is no more,” said Akzad with a sad sigh. “Nothing remains of it but a smoking crater in the ground. That building was over five hundred years old, you know…”
“The demons would have destroyed it anyway,” said Bomfrey. “Their plan was, and still is, to raze the entire city of Karak-Drang to the ground. We both know this. The Factory Core’s defense strategy at least enabled the barracks to take out a few thousand of them before it was destroyed.”
“I know, I know,” said Akzad, shaking his head sadly. “It’s just … such violence, such destruction. And it all could have been avoided if we dwarves hadn’t been so greedy.”
Randor looked surprised to hear this. “You dwarves blame yourselves for this demon invasion? How so?”
“Our miners dug too deep in their search for mithril,” answered Akzad. “There were old stories about an ancient evil living in the deepest recesses of the earth, but we brushed them off as myth, as superstition. We tunneled deeper and deeper into the roots of the Smoky Mountains, ignoring warnings from the oldest of our people about awakening an ancient terror. And it was our miners, with advanced mining equipment that we inventors and engineers created, who finally broke through the barrier of rock that separated the demons’ Infernal Realm from our Below World.”
“It is not too different to what Men have done here in the Above World,” said Randor. “They too have pushed through boundaries that should never have been crossed, all in the name of greed and ambition. And we Wizards did the same thing, for the same reasons—summoning things from other realms, things that we thought we could control… things which ended up destroying us. The afflictions of greed and ambition are not unique to your people, master dwarf. And when tragedies arise from these afflictions, all we can do is try our hardest to fight for what is right. And this, it seems to me, is what your Factory Core is doing.”
“I just wish I could go back,” said Akzad, his face a crumpled portrait of sorrow and grief, “and change what I did. It was I who invented the improved versions of the rock-blasters that allowed the miners to tunnel to such depths.”
The wizard reached out and put his hand on Akzad’s shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Chin up, master dwarf, chin up,” he said. “I’m sure you believed that you were doing what was right for your people at the time. There’s no way you could have foreseen what your invention would bring. And I’m sure if you had been able to predict what would happen, you wouldn’t have done it. But really, master dwarf, there is no sense in getting lost in despair about what could have been and should have been. The past is the past and cannot be changed; worry only about what you can do in this moment. And at this moment, I think we could all do with some sleep. I have a spare bed, and as it is made for a human, you both could fit in it comfortably enough, if you wish to sleep here.”
“We thank you for your generous offer of hospitality, Randor,” said Bomfrey, “but the secrecy of what we are doing is as important to us as it is to you. I’m sure that you wish to keep your true identity as secret as possible, and we too wish to keep it a secret that we are working with a wizard. There are many dwarves who would not approve of such an alliance. It is best that we return to the crypts and sleep in our own beds. We would not want to arouse any suspicion.”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” said Randor. “Well, I think it is best that I escort you back to the entrance to the crypts. I mean no offense, master dwarf, but it does not seem to me that you two are, perhaps, the best fighters … and the streets of Merador, as you have already seen tonight, are crawling with ruffians and rogues at this hour of the night. Let me get my staff.”
“Thank you Randor,” said Akzad, feeling a sudden shudder of fear as he remembered how close to death he and Bomfrey had come at the hands of the robbers. “We appreciate it.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Randor with a smile. “You have not only paid me handsomely with these ingots, you have given me a very privileged view of an amazing creation. You will return here tomorrow to observe more of its missions through the Seeing Crystal, yes?”
“We will come back as often as we can,” said Bomfrey. “Tomorrow morning, if that’s all right with you.”
“It is, master dwarf, it is. And rest assured, these streets are far safer during daylight hours when officers of the Watch are patrolling. You shouldn’t run into the same kind of trouble you did this evening. Anyway, are you ready to go?”
The dwarves put their traveling cloaks back on and pulled the hoods over their heads.
“We’re ready now,” said Bomfrey.
Randor got his wizard’s staff and pulled on a cloak of his own, and then the three of them left his cottage, heading through the murky alleys at a brisk pace. Bomfrey thought he could feel hostile eyes bearing on him, and thought he saw sinister figures skulking through the shadows, but no rogues approached them; perhaps word had spread among the thugs about an old man with a gnarled walking stick who was far more dangerous than he looked.
They took a different route to the one they had when they had made their way from the crypts to Randor’s cottage. This route took them through a park, and the open space of the location provided them with a view of the King Pavanir’s castle, up on the hill, which overlooked the whole of Merador around it. It was an impressive structure, with many tall turrets and spires.
“Tell me about King Pavanir,” said Bomfrey to Randor. “How seriously do you think he takes the threat of the Demon Horde? Is he the kind of leader who strikes pre-emptively, or would he be the kind of man who would simply wait until the last minute, and act too late? Is he an ambitious ruler, or a lazy one? Is he intelligent, or dim-witted?”
“Pavanir has a love for one thing above all others,” muttered Randor darkly. “Gold.”
Bomfrey nodded. “It was easy enough to change his mind about accommodating my people—his former enemies—here in the crypts of Merador simply by offering enough gold.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Randor, shaking his head. “Pavanir loves the shiny metal more than anything. And if the demons offered him gold, he’d probably take it and do whatever they wanted.”
“The demons,” said Bomfrey, “are not in the habit of making deals with anyone. They do not offer any choices; there is no ‘submit or die’. There is only ‘die’, that’s all.”
“As I suspected,” said Randor. “Well, in answer to your other questions about the king of Merador, he is a cautious ruler. He prefers to think long on an issue before making a decision. As for pre-emptive strikes … no, he is too cautious for such actions. The lure of money, however, can alter his decision-making quite considerably. And not for the better.”
“I see, I see,” said Bomfrey, nodding his head. “And if it came to war with the demons, if the Factory Core fails, and the demons break through to the Above World … is Pavanir the kind of king who could unite the Cities of Men and summon a great army of Men to fight the invaders?”
“His relationship with the rulers of the other Cities of Men is not too good, I’m afraid,” said Randor. “It would take a better, more diplomatic ruler than Pavanir to achieve something like that. Even with a threat as great as that of the Demon Horde threatening the world of Men.”
“Then Men had better hope that the Factory Core succeeds,” said Bomfrey, “or it is likely that their world will be as doomed as ours is.”
They walked along in silence for a while until they exited the park. After this, th
ey moved down a narrow street, in which there was a pub. The sound of loud, raucous voices was spilling out of the pub, and as they passed it, Bomfrey realized that there was one familiar voice among those of the drunkards.
“Wait,” he said, stopping outside the pub. “I know that voice! It’s … it’s General Khazum! What on earth is he doing in there?”
CHAPTER 27
“Another ale!” roared General Khazum, slamming his empty tankard down on the table of the tavern. “And one for my good friend Ser Greenfield, fellow warrior!”
General Khazum was roaring drunk, as was Sergeant Balion, and most of the knights who were all sitting, drinking and laughing around the table. There was one among them who was not drunk though, even though he was pretending to be: Ser Greenfield.
“Yes, more ale, more ale!” shouted Ser Greenfield, deliberately slurring his words to maintain the charade of drunkenness.
The serving wench, a buxom young blonde in a low-cut top that revealed a large portion of her ample bosom, brought a fresh tray of pitchers to the table of knights and dwarves. The former enemies had found that they had much in common as warriors, and had spent the night getting wasted over war stories.
Ser Greenfield took his pitcher from the serving girl, and winked surreptitiously at her. She smiled back, subtly. Earlier in the day, he had come to her and paid her a few gold coins to make sure that the ale she served him was simply water, with ale froth skimmed from another tankard and put on top of his water to make it look convincing. So far, nobody had realized that Ser Greenfield had only been drinking water the whole time.
“One more cheer for swords and axes!” shouted General Khazum, raising his foaming tankard high in the air. “Real weapons for real warriors, not some blasted sentient factory! Three cheers for steel in brave men’s hands, not disgusting necromancy!”
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