The Dragon Knight and the Steam World

by D. C. Clemens

  To ensure we weren’t trying to deceive them, it required the generals, all the Vanguards in the room, and myself and Alex to head for the jailhouse at once.

  As Alex attested, Viscount Rathmore was not in his cell. Upon questioning the guards, we learned Viscount Rathmore had convinced them that their generals ordered for his freedom right after I was sent to my interrogation.

  “Fuck it all!” said General Noboa. “Find him now! He can’t have gone far!”

  “I have to go with them,” I said. “He waited until I was gone until he tried his next trick. He knows I can resist his hex. Your men might only fall for it again even if they catch up to him.”

  “Curse all this vile magic. Fine!”

  At the same time I started my sprint, I shouted, “Let’s go, Alex!”

  After pulling the chain taut a couple of times to test its strength, I sent prana into my forearms. The shackles separated with a snap. Alex freed himself as well. Despite our prana being superior, we could not yet outpace the Vanguards without chancing being shot by those who had yet to learn we had received permission to run free. On top of that, I worried the viscount’s spell would have him use some of the Vanguards against us, but since he did not order any of them to kill my allies or fire at anyone who chased after him, I could only assume his technique was severely limited without the enchanted blade.

  A hundred yard area around the base largely remained free of buildings, crowds, and other impediments to sight, making it easy to do a quick survey. At the brink of the nearest block, a hurrying figure in dark purple turned the corner and disappeared. Now beyond the vicinity of anyone who might mistake us for absconders, I turned my corruption loose on my legs. Alex stayed close as we left behind the Vanguards.

  On taking a peek behind the corner the viscount ran behind, I spotted someone bursting through a door in the middle of the row. Serval bounding strides later put me and Alex in front of the big window of that same building. Packed inside were twenty-something patrons of what had to be an inn, tavern, or a combination of both. Ascending a narrow staircase off to the side was the viscount.

  As we entered, the hunted man looked down from the interior balcony and held up a skinny dagger. “Fight every man you see!”

  Many of those sitting down stood up. To disrupt the possible hex, I changed to my untainted prana. Next, I turned to assess Alex’s state of mind. Thankfully, his head was able to freely turn to look at me with familiar, fully conscious eyes. The magic failed to sway us, but many already started taking swings at one another in the mobbed space. Others threw their glass bottles, grabbed chairs, or flipped over tables. With the viscount getting away, I knew we had no other choice. I changed back into my corrupted self and stepped into the fray.

  I shoved a man who stumbled toward me after receiving a blow inflicted upon him by a friend he had been eating lunch with. Alex ducked a chair being swung by one of the hexed, then delivered a punch to the gut to get his attacker to the ground. I kicked a table over to block someone’s path to me. Alex leapt on a chair to kick another man in the chest. The back of my palm slapped aside a punch before using my other hand to jab his face, likely breaking his nose.

  I almost made it to the stairs before someone pulled on my cloak, which wouldn’t have been a problem on its own if it wasn’t for a hustling woman coming down the stairs taking the opportunity to leap into a dive to tackle me. Alex picked the bewitched woman off of me and tossed her into a pair of men to knock them over. The act cleared the way to the stairs for the both of us.

  Being the first one at the top of the stairs, my brother met with another hexed patron. He sidestepped his charge and grabbed him by the scruff of his coat to toss him aside. The second floor turned out to be another division of the tavern area. This level held half as many partakers of food and drink as the previous one, making it far easier to get through them by dodging and countering their wild assaults with greater ease of motion.

  Reaching the double doors left open in the back showed us stairs leading to the street. The thinner street on this side of the block meant a higher concentration of people. None of them fought with each other, but one of them in dark purple ran deeper into the city. Alex saw him as well and beat me down the stairs. His edge did not last long. I had an easier time zigzagging through the crowd and hurdling on and over barrels and crates as a way to avoid the throng entirely.

  My puzzlement over our quarry increased the nearer we got to him. His dash seemed too straight. He bumped into numerous people, and he never took an alleyway or street when he passed one. Lest I was under a new spell, I reverted to my original prana. Alex passed me in a few strides after the swap. By the time I recognized the man in dark purple was not the viscount, my brother was able to reach out and seize the overcoat to stop the runner. Alex pulled the man to the ground. In that angle he was able to see a young man’s eyes glazed by magic.

  “Who the fuck is this?” asked my brother. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Rathmore’s coat. He must have given it to this poor bastard and told him to run.”

  “Fuck!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Vanguard also had to contend with the rowdy tavern before catching up to me and Alex. Most stopped fighting when the soldiers threatened to use their weapons, but two or three of them practically needed to be knocked unconscious for the hex to dissolve. A few people reported being rather confused about the sudden scuffle, suggesting they bore the prana to resist. Meanwhile, the decoy viscount, who turned out to be one of the tavern patrons, regained complete lucidity once his ability to continue running was impeded by Alex’s grip. No beating or threats necessary.

  The search for the viscount continued, of course. However, it became increasingly clear he had given us the slip with several streets, buildings, and a sewer system to choose from. The Vanguard got the police force to help them set up a perimeter, spread the word of a wanted murderer on the loose, and check all trains and ships leaving Durnmere. An adequate response for all but those who possessed the power to persuade almost anyone they wanted to look the other way.

  Not too far outside the main perimeter, the twins and krewen met up with me a couple of hours into the search. A small part of me never wanted to see them again, for that would have been easier than confronting my failure.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” I told them.

  “No reason to be apologetic,” said Ishree. “None of us were prepared for an incantation so despicable.”

  “And we’d all be dead if you hadn’t broken free,” said Isabel. “Now we can chase the fucking piece of shit until we kill him.”

  “None of us will get to mope until Rathmore is dead,” said Felicia. “It’s as simple as that. Or do great dragon knights get to sulk and make people feel worse before the job is done?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Then do you want to go talk to the viscount’s people?”

  “He had others with him?”

  “Two. Both are locked up in a room until the investigation ends. They’re not too talkative. From the sound of it, they’re none too proactive without their master around.”

  “Probably can’t be so proactive without their master around,” said Svren. “Who knows how people act when around the viscount’s curse for so long? Their minds may be mush.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “I was under a mind rune for a long while, and my ability to think did not suffer once freed from it.”

  “See?” said Isabel. “That’s why someone like you should talk to them. Maybe you can snap them out of the spell.”

  “I suppose I can try. I would also like to look at the enchanted sword.”

  “They won’t like it,” began Felicia, “but the generals will probably have no choice if they want to learn more about it.”

  I stared down the street, searching for the viscount one last time in the shadow laden city. On not finding him among the bustle, I turned back and said, “Let’s get going.”
r />   We returned to the tower at the Vanguard base. Once we received permission from the generals, we went up to the second floor, where the viscount’s attendants were kept in a small, windowless room. A middle-aged man dressed in a clean suit and coat sat on a small couch next to a younger woman, whose head was weighed down by an ornate hat topped with feathers and flowers. They looked at us coming in, but their listless eyes seemed too drained to anticipate the reality in front of them. No doubt my expression resembled their insipid gawking when I beheld the death of two men I respected.

  “What are your names?” I asked them.

  “Marcos, good sir.”

  “Nicole, my good sir.”

  “No last names?”

  “No need for them anymore, sir,” answered Marcos.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the viscount has no need for them.”

  “Okay… And what’s your master’s first name?”

  “Lucian.”

  “Why did he want us dead?”

  The man opened his mouth, but struggled to expel a coherent word. Nicole, however, replied, “A just reason, I’m sure, sir.”

  “Yes, a just reason,” said Marcos, relieved to have been saved from thinking for himself.

  “It’s like they’re on a drug,” said Svren.

  “Or several,” said Ishree.

  “Yes, or several. How did you dispel your mind rune, Mercer?”

  “My corruption weakened it, then Aranath removed it. But this spell needed no rune… How would Ghevont handle this?”

  I reached out and rested my left hand on Nicole’s left shoulder. I sent pulses of prana down my arm, hoping some of it transferred over to the woman and prompted her to recover her own volition. Of course, never having to learn to do such a thing, I wasn’t surprised to hear Nicole answering in the negative when I asked her if she felt any different.

  “We’re wasting time,” said Alex. “I bet we can use the sword to take away the hex at once.”

  “It’s certainly worth a try,” I said. “Let’s go back and talk to the generals.”

  We went down to the first floor. My Vanguard allies led me into a large office with a long glass tabletop in the middle. Both generals and a handful of their subordinates stood or sat by the see-through table.

  “Any luck with the attendants?” asked General Valentine.

  “No,” I answered. “There are people I know who may be able to remove the hex with their own skill, but they all live in Orda. Nevertheless, it should be easier to understand and remove the hex with the very enchanted object involved in casting it.”

  “Didn’t take long to suggest you should be the one to wield the indoctrinating weapon,” said General Noboa.

  “It didn’t take long for the viscount to escape under your watch.”

  “Or for you to be fooled by a switched coat!”

  “Enough!” said General Valentine. “Enough. The viscount fooled us all. Bickering like lads in a playground will not help us bring him to justice.”

  “Neither will blindly trusting ghoulish strangers. I trust this dragon knight more than the viscount now, but that does not mean handing him all he desires.”

  “Not blindly, commanders!” said Svren. “When has he given us reason to doubt? On Halbest? The Ruts? Stopping the viscount from killing more of us? The gods-”

  I placed a hand on the krewen’s shoulder. “Thank you, Svren. I think they understand your perspective… Generals, if the viscount had not proven himself a challenging enemy, I would let your traditional way of entrapping criminals progress to its logical conclusion. However, Lucian still holds the means to supernaturally deceive. None of us desire for him to escape and seek protection from his family or allies he’s fooled into serving him. If his attendants have any information we can use, we need to know it sooner rather than later. It might be days before they can think for themselves again.”

  “Yes, time is of the essence,” said General Valentine. “We’ve been weighing numerous options, including destroying the weapon. Perhaps that will cut off the spell.”

  “It may, it may not. I’m all for destroying it if it fails to aid in the viscount’s capture. Assuming the blade is one source of the mind altering hex, then it should not be wielded by anyone on this or any realm. For now, however, somebody needs to try and use it for a noble purpose.”

  “Agreed. I first recommend someone we both trust have their try at wielding the viscount’s sword. Anyone with prana should be able to connect with its magic, no?”

  “Connect with, yes. Competently apply its magic is another matter. I’m not certain I can even do much with it… Very well, if you want someone else to at least try blundering around with it, we can try your way first. I assume the people we both trust come from the major’s squad, and since it seems the krewen are not entirely under your authority, I further assume you want one of the twins to handle the sword.”

  “Yes. Do I have a volunteer from the sergeants?”

  “I’ll do it, sir,” responded Isabel. “Anything to get us closer to the viscount.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Regardless, in the unlikely event the enchantment prove too potent for her, may I try my hand at it?”

  “We’ll first get the sergeant’s report. I’ll be there to observe directly. Come, follow me to the basement. General Noboa and the rest of our men will stay up here.”

  The generals nodded to one another, making me think they already discussed a clandestine procedure to address the possibility someone was casting the manipulative hex.

  Two doors down from the war room, the general was able to make the two Vanguards guarding the basement entrance step aside for us. The stairs led down to a dingy, dim, gray room filled with crates, shelves, and metal compartments of varying size against the walls. The general headed for a row of the tall compartments at the back. He turned a small metal wheel marked all around with white lines. After a clicking noise, the door opened. Leaning in the back of the shallow compartment was the silver scabbard and its sword.

  “Do I take it, sir?” Isabel asked her commander.

  “Go ahead.”

  “What should I expect?” she asked me next.

  “Every enchanted item is different. I know there’s powerful prana in it, but I didn’t get time to determine if it’ll drain your prana on its own or if you’ll have to add it yourself. The scabbard itself may hold power, so brace yourself for that possibility.”

  “And how do I know if I can control people with it?”

  “You can try telling me to do something I normally wouldn’t do. I won’t resist.”

  “Oh, okay. Like what?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to know. I might end up instinctively resisting. Nothing that will make anyone think I’m doing something violent. We’re getting ahead of ourselves. First check if you can even handle its power.”

  “All right.” She glared at the sword and shook her hands to loosen them. “Here goes nothing…”

  After taking a step closer, her tentative fingers tapped the casing. When that produced no undesirable result, her fingers and left hand slowly wrapped around the scabbard. She picked up the weapon and brought it out the compartment.

  “So far, so good,” she stated more to herself than any of us.

  The fingers of her right hand tapped the black grip. A small yelp.

  “You feel something?” Felicia asked her sister.

  Isabel nodded.

  “Painful?” asked Svren.

  “No, only surprising. Feeling prana coming from an object is weird.”

  She tapped the hilt again several times more. Finally, she decided to brave a true grasp. Except, as soon as she took a firm hold, she yelped again.

  “Damn it! It’s repelling me or something. How did anyone even pick it off the floor?”

  “We took the dragon knight’s suggestion,” said the general. “We had a secretary girl without the ability to weave spells handle it with a hand towel. We told her n
othing of its magical capability and she reported no effects, ill or otherwise.”

  “I felt its magic even through my boot,” I said. “A hand towel wouldn’t have prevented her from feeling its power if she could use it.”

  “Makes sense, right?” said Svren. “One who can’t use prana can’t be expected to use enchanted weapons.”

  “Sound logic. Can you really not gain a grip on it, Isabel?”

  “Hang on. Let me try a few more times. It didn’t hurt. It just felt odd. Maybe it’ll be easier if I try holding back my prana. Not that I know exactly how to do that…”

  The Vanguard attempted quick grabs of the grip, each effort lasting split seconds longer. All the same, she could scarcely hold on long enough to draw the blade halfway out. Tilting the scabbard up slid the sword almost all the way back in.

  “Crap. I’m sorry, general. I can’t get a good grip without it overwhelming me.”

  “I no longer have a problem if you want to try wielding it, general,” I said.

  “Is that so?”

  “Aye. I now suspect you or anyone else with a restricted prana reserve will be unable to grapple with this weapon’s power. So, do you care to find out?”

  “Hmph. Point the hilt to me, sergeant.”

  When Isabel did, the general inhaled deeply, rubbed his hands, and reached out. His grasp looked to be firmer than Isabel’s, but like her, he was forced to pull away. Thrice more he tried his hand.

  “Hmm, there’s certainly some kind of disapproval coming from it. Nothing excruciating. Simply untenable. Reminds me of trying to get certain sides of magnets to stick to one another.”

  “May I take my turn?” I asked.

  A minor sigh. “You may, but you will not check to see of you can manipulate any of us. To put it simply, no speaking while holding it. If you can hold it for any practical length of time, then we will go straight up to the attendants so you can attempt to cast off their stupor, understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Once Isabel handed me the scabbard, the others stepped back with the general to give me some room. Presuming I could not dupe the blade into thinking I lacked an active prana reserve, and not knowing how it would react to corruption, I settled on simply reaching out with my own prana-filled hand.