Metal Mage 13

by Eric Vall

  “Hundreds, maybe thousands,” I admitted. “I destroyed over thirty in these woods alone while I was waiting for the first of our troops to return, and they’ll be more concentrated in the south where the Master’s been hitting the villages harder. That’s where you’re starting just as soon as you’re ready.”

  “You said I don’t have to do all this work on my own, though, right?” the kid mumbled, and I smirked because his expression screamed sixteen-years-old when he said it.

  “No, you’ll be working with a partner,” I chuckled. “Markus knows more about Terra Magic than anyone at the Oculus, and he’s the one who taught me how I could use our element to sense the engravings on substances we can’t influence. You’ll learn a lot from him, but tomorrow, we’ll bring him out here so he can get more familiar with the presence of these portals, too.”

  “Is Markus that cranky old guy with the Aldrin pollen?” Pindor asked.

  “No, that was Hulsan,” I replied. “I already killed him. Markus is nineteen, and he’s the whole reason we were able to restore the Oculus.”

  “Damn,” the kid muttered. “That’s impressive. Why’d you kill the old guy?”

  “It’s a long story. Come on, you should head back and get some sleep. I heard you fought your ass off at that tunnel.”

  “Yeah,” Pindor said with a smirk. “It was kind of awesome, honestly. General Ralot said I’m a natural leader, which was probably just him being nice, but I think I might like being a Defender.”

  “Good,” I chuckled. “This battle will certainly give your uncle something to brag about for a few months.”

  The kid rolled his eyes. “I’ll be stuck sitting for another portrait next week, I already know it.”

  “You sit for portraits?” I clarified. “Like… the huge ones with noble dogs on cushions? Gaudy frames, frilly clothes?”

  “Yup. There’s an entire hall lined with ten-foot paintings of me at my uncle’s estate, and all of them are embarrassingly overdone. I always have to wear velvet breeches, and I don’t understand why.”

  “Holy shit,” I snickered. “I’ve gotta see these portraits.”

  “Absolutely not,” the kid said as he stood up and headed to gather his armor. “I bet your family makes you sit for portraits almost as much as me these days.”

  “I’ve never had a portrait painted of me,” I informed the kid. “I don’t think I’d have the patience to sit for it even if someone did want one. Just in case, though, don’t bring this up to Cayla.”

  Pindor looked up. “Wait, not one painting? Everyone’s been painted. What about when you were a baby?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you’re… you know.” The kid shrugged. “A big deal around here.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t a big deal back home,” I admitted as I set Stan down so he could explore. “Plus, my adoptive parents weren’t anything like your uncle. No grand estates, no knights or servants in waiting. Just a small house and a messy garage.”

  “What’s a garage?”

  “It’s like a stable for storing machines like Bobbie,” I explained. “Keeps them out of the weather, and it’s a good place to get some work done whenever they need a tune up.”

  Pindor furrowed his brow at me as he let his armor slide back to the ground, and he stood there like this for a long pause while I guessed what was coming next.

  Eventually, he got there.

  “Where are you from?” Pindor asked. “You never told me when we met.”

  I considered the kid for a moment, but it wasn’t just everything we’d gone through together that came to mind. Pindor had called me a hypocrite earlier for not telling one of my women where I was from, and while I didn’t care about the accusation, I also didn’t want to encourage his ridiculous inclination to hide everything about himself from people.

  So, I decided to be honest with the kid.

  “I was sent here by the gods,” I admitted.

  Pindor’s expression went flat as he crossed his arms. “Wow. Okay, we get it. Your women worship your dick.”

  “What?” I snorted.

  “Maybe you should resist the urge to let that go to your head,” the kid suggested, and I raised my eyebrows as he grabbed up his armor, shot me an irritated glance, and walked off.

  I burst out laughing as he stalked off into the darkened woods, and I could hear him muttering under his breath all the way back to Falmount about cocky bastards who couldn’t answer a simple question.

  “Well, Stan, that’s a new one,” I chortled. “I should start telling more people about myself.”

  Stan was rolling around on the leaves as he clutched at his belly in silent laughter, and I was about to pick him up when he rolled into the charred corpse of a tar-spewing spider.

  Then the little metal man shot up and sprinted for my leg, and he tried to scurry up my boot like the spider was after him.

  “Hey, don’t worry,” I tried. “It’s already dead. We killed these guys ages ago, watch.”

  Stan clung to the toe of my boot as I walked over, and when I stepped on the charred remains, they crumbled into ashes under my foot.

  “Just the corpses of our spider enemies,” I assured him. “They ran through here on their way to another portal. You’ll probably find hundreds of bodies out here these days. It’s a little cryptic, but what matters is we’ve got a garden of portals to use for training. Take a look.”

  I pried Stan off my boot and returned to the tree, and he made sure his helmet was secure as I lowered him toward the engraving.

  “This is the only indicator we have of where the Master’s portals are,” I explained. “One tiny line we can’t use for ourselves, but his minions travel from his fortress to places all over the world through this mark. As far as I know, it’s the only way to get inside the Master’s headquarters. There’s still about fifteen left on this side of town, so I’m gonna use them to help Pindor and Markus learn to track down other portals.”

  Stan nodded with intrigue as he leaned to get a closer look, and he reached out just like Pindor had to try and sense the presence of the runic element.

  Then my little metal man vanished right before my eyes.

  “Stan!” I belted, and my voice echoed through the woods as my heart nearly caved in on itself. “Stan! Where are you? Talk to me, buddy!”

  I tore at the leaves as I scoured the ground like a maniac to find my little buddy, but only clumps of dirt and dead spiders flew up around me as I crawled around the tree three times looking for him. Then I frantically scanned the woods with my powers while I kicked the trunk in case he magically fell from a branch, and I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when a glint of metal caught in the moonlight by my feet.

  “Stan!” I whimpered and dropped to my knees. “Stan, are you alive? Nod if you can hear me!”

  Stan laid splayed out in my palm for a minute that felt like an eternity, and then he carefully sat up.

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” I panted. “I thought… ”

  I couldn’t even form the words, but Stan placed his hand on my thumb as he looked up at me, and as I gradually regained my sanity, the little metal man got to his feet.

  Then he launched into an elaborate charade, and I could sense the rollercoaster of emotions he’d been going through, too.

  He was shocked, he was confused, he was lost, and then he was sneaking. He was stunned, scared, running for his life, and generally being Stan about it, but as he flapped his arms like wings and pretended to eat my hand, my face finally went slack.

  “Stan…” I muttered, and he paused his show to look up at me. “Let me see your rune.”

  Stan looked down at his chest, and then he spread his arms so I could get a closer look. I squinted as I moved him under a shaft of moonlight, and my heart began to flutter in my chest until I was lightheaded from what I was seeing.

  The rune Nemris had once bestowed on me glinted in the center of Stan’s chest, and I’d never known what to mak
e of the symbol. When I first formed the little metal man, I’d simply thanked the goddess for this rune because it had given Stan life, and ever since, he’d done his best to avoid letting anyone ogle it, especially the elves.

  But right there, amongst all the silvery lines winding around each other, I saw a familiar stroke, and it was angled precisely along the degree path of the Master’s portals.

  I stared long and hard at the rune while I wondered if I was imagining it, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t. Stan had vanished near the portal, and he’d acted like a ravenous sphynx when he came back to tell me of his travels, which could only mean one thing.

  So, I straightened up as I looked Stan straight in his tiny, blank face. “Stan, you’re our hero.”

  The little metal man removed his helmet in surprise.

  “It’s true,” I assured him. “You’re the one who’s going to bring us to victory. The goddess has chosen you.”

  Stan stood stock still for a moment, but then he fumbled to put his helmet back on, and he chose a suitable power stance before he slowly pointed to the ground.

  I promptly lowered him down so he could walk on his own, and with a crisp salute, Stan turned to march toward Falmount.

  I followed behind as I watched my little buddy purposely walk over the corpses of our spider enemies, and even though he fell through their charred remains a few times, he got back to his feet and continued onward.

  I could feel a deep sense of purpose billowing around him with every step, and a grin spread across my face that was equal parts pride and mind-numbing elation, because this was it.

  This little metal man was going to win the war for us.

  Stan was gonna save us all.

  End of book 13

  End Notes

  Thank you for reading Metal Mage 13. Once I hit 100 reviews I’ll start working on the next book! Please leave your reviews here! Thank you!

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Eric Vall