Construct

by Luke Matthews

  “Practicing what?” Samuel asked.

  Eri’s head snapped back toward Samuel, and a tear ran down her cheek. She didn’t say anything, instead letting out a huff and turning toward her belongings. “It’s none of your business!” she said over her shoulder. She knelt over her cloak, being sure to keep herself between it and the two constructs. Samuel recognized the same sharp, smoky smell he’d first encountered in the alley in Morrelton. He turned to Icariascus, who was already looking at him, and could sense Icariascus knew the smell, too.

  “Eri,” Icariascus said in a soft voice, stepping forward.

  All the girl’s movements stopped for a moment and she was still, the clearing quiet. She shook her head before pulling her cloak around her shoulders and turning to leave. Icariascus stepped into her path and held up a hand. Tears ran down her face as she tried to sidestep him, but he moved to bar her path again.

  “Get out of my way, Rascal.” Her demeanor shifted from angry to pleading. “Please… Please don’t…”

  Icariascus stood silent, but did not move. Samuel stepped over to them. “Eri?”

  She pulled her cloak tightly closed in front of her, biting her lip and looking away as she tapped one of her feet. As her adrenaline began to wear off the tension in her muscles drained. Her shoulders and eyes both dropped.

  “Can you get in trouble?” Samuel asked. Eriane didn’t respond.

  “Yes, she can,” Icariascus said, still watching the girl. “Why would you risk this, Eri?”

  “Because it’s what I’m good at,” she said, probably louder than she intended, finally looking back up at the two of them. Her eyes fell on Samuel. “Besides, I need to learn to protect myself anyway.” She turned back to Icariascus. “You’re not always going to be around, and neither are Pare and Mane.”

  “That’s true,” Icariascus said, “but why this? You’re so talented…why would you waste it on this? If you were ever caught with a gun…”

  “Don’t you understand, Rascal?” she said, staring into his eyes. “This is my talent.” A fresh round of tears burst down her cheeks. “I’m good at this. Somehow, I’m better than I should be. It’s like I can just…I can just feel my way through it.” Icariascus just stood silent, staring at her.

  “Maybe you should just talk to Mane about it,” Samuel said. “Maybe it means something.”

  New fear sprang into her eyes, and she darted over to stand in front of Samuel. “You can’t say anything! Either of you!” she said, looking over her shoulder at Icariascus. “Rascal, you know Pare can’t find out. He’d never look at me the same way again!” She was openly sobbing as she turned back to Samuel. “You have to promise me! You won’t say anything. Not ever.”

  “Eri, I—”

  “Promise me, Samuel. You too, Icariascus.”

  The pleading in her eyes dug at Samuel. He wanted more than anything for this young girl and her strange little family to trust him. How could he let her put herself in danger like this, though? On the other hand, what place was it of his to say anything?

  Icariascus was looking away, off into the forest, and Eriane was watching him. Finally he nodded, and said nothing more. Eriane turned her reddened face back to Samuel.

  “I promise, Eri,” he said.

  She let out a breath and closed her eyes. “Thank you. Both of you.”

  “Just be careful,” Icariascus said.

  Eri turned and put her arms around the thin construct’s shoulders. “I always am,” she said, before planting a light kiss on the side of his head.

  Eriane started back toward the cabin, with Samuel and Icariascus following at a respectful distance. The three of them walked for a few minutes before Samuel could no longer hold in his thoughts. He stepped up to Icariascus and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Rascal?” he asked.

  Icariascus turned back to the trail. “A nickname,” he responded. “When we first met, she had trouble pronouncing my name, and wasn’t fond of it even after she could. So, she shortened it to Rascal. I see it as a term of endearment.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Samuel replied. He quickened his pace to catch up with Eriane, who turned her head as she heard him approach.

  “Look, Samuel,” she said, pausing. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  Samuel nodded. “Oh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” Eriane shot him a questioning glance. “I’m curious about the dome?”

  She nodded her understanding and reached into her cloak, drawing out a small stone about two inches across. “It’s called a guilestone,” she said, handing the rock to Samuel. “They can be used for all kinds of things, and each one is different based on whoever’s using it.”

  Samuel examined the stone as she spoke. The surface was polished smooth with a precise spiral shape etched into its surface. Beneath the surface sheen, small flecks of crystal sparkled amidst the rust color of the rest of the rock.

  “A guilestone like this can be used as a general focus, or it can amplify a talent,” she continued. “I was messing around with it one day, trying to find out if I could use it to create a larger, more powerful bump field, like the ones I practice with Pare.” She sighed. “I still can’t get the full power of a bump field through it, but the shield I can make will block all sound, and I use it so my practices don’t disturb the forest.” Her brow crumpled up in confusion. “But…you said you heard something. That’s impossible.”

  Samuel handed her back the stone, which she dropped back into a pocket inside her cloak. “You say that dome was blocking sound?” he said. Eriane nodded. “That would explain why there was no echo.” Her look of confusion intensified. “Mane has already discovered I don’t sense constructions of khet the same way as others. I am able to see through his illusions, and I was able to see your little dome. I must have been able to hear the sounds coming from within it, but because the dome was blocking the travel of the actual sound, there was no way for it to echo off of the trees.”

  Eriane shook her head. “That’s just weird, Samuel.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “What about me isn’t, so far?”

  She laughed, a sight and sound that relaxed Samuel. It was nice to see her smile. They continued walking in silence for quite some time with Icariascus trailing behind before Samuel spoke up again.

  “So…” he said, hesitant to continue, “What…how did you figure it out?”

  There was a long pause before Eriane spoke. “Look, I…I can’t talk about it, okay, Samuel?”

  He nodded and let it drop. The remainder of the trip back to the cabin was silent, and seemed to take twice as long as it had taken in the opposite direction. They had been gone for a few hours by the time they came back into the front room, where Mane was still hunched over his table and Pare had taken up a spot near the fireplace. Both were surrounded by an assortment of books, and neither looked up as they entered.

  “You three are back early,” Mane said, squinting at some text he seemed to be having trouble deciphering.

  Eriane hesitated, casting an anxious look at the two constructs before replying. “I got hungry,” she said. “Ran into these two on the way back.”

  “Is that right?” Mane said, raising an eyebrow from his book toward Eriane.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” she said, smiling back at him. “Is there anything to eat?”

  “There’s some bread and some leftovers from last night, but it’s all cold,” Mane said, almost mumbling in his concentration.

  “That’s fine,” Eriane said as she disappeared into the back of the cabin.

  “I’ll get some food ready,” Icariascus said, following her.

  Samuel took a seat on the floor near Pare, being careful not stray too near the stacks of books surrounding the boy. “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Not much,” Pare replied without looking up. “At least not useful. Plenty about the effects of fragmentation but not much about how to fix it.” He jiggled the book in his lap. “I have a
feeling about this one, though. It’s a historical text about capital artificers in the early days. Pretty fascinating, actually, some of the designs they pioneered.”

  Samuel turned toward Mane, who heard what Pare said and raised his head. “We’ll see if it leads anywhere, though. Every account of a fragmented construct I’ve found has resulted in either insanity, catatonia, or explosion. I can’t find any accounts of one remaining cognizant.”

  Samuel’s hopes sank. It seemed as though the deeper they researched, the further away from an explanation they traveled. He kept that opinion to himself. No use in further interrupting them, and he was in no great hurry to find an answer to his own riddle at the moment, anyway. Samuel occupied himself with sorting through his memories again, trying to link as many as possible and find any needle-like clues he could dig out of the haystack of his mind. He was jarred from his concentration by the snap of a closing book, and he looked up to see Mane rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

  “Something wrong?” Pare asked.

  Mane took a deep breath. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here,” he said. “My collection is extensive, but it’s not focused in the right place. I only dabble in artifacts, I don’t specialize in them.”

  The weight of Mane’s admission bore down on Samuel. Frustration and fear began playing at the edges of his mind. His first real lead was beginning to fall apart, and who knew what would come next.

  Pare took in a breath that broke the silence. “What about…” He shook his head and cut himself off. Mane was staring at him, but he took another deep breath and didn’t continue.

  “Well,” Mane said. “Spit it out.”

  “It’s a stupid idea,” Pare said.

  Mane leaned toward him. “Stupid ideas might be all we’ve got left.”

  Pare took another breath. “What about Acthemenius?”

  Samuel surmised, from the length of the word, it was a construct’s name.

  Mane leaned back in his chair. “You’re right,” he said. “That’s a stupid idea.”

  Pare looked incredulous. “He might be a little…off…but if there’s anyone that might know more about Samuel and his problems, it would be Acthemenius,” he said, his tone defensive.

  “Who’s Acthemenius?” Samuel asked.

  “He’s sort of a…construct…I don’t know, cult leader?” Pare said. The look on his face told Samuel he knew how ridiculous he sounded. “That’s the best way I can describe him. But that’s not the important part. Acthemenius is probably the most knowledgeable construct historian for a thousand miles.”

  “Unfortunately,” Mane said, chin in hand, “He’s about as crazy as a construct can get. He believes himself to be the oldest construct in the world, and claims not only to know the history of his kind, but also their future.”

  “The historical knowledge alone would be enough,” Pare said.

  Mane took his hand away from the bottom of his face. “Maybe so. Even if he wasn’t a fraud, though, it’s a worrisome trip this time of year.”

  “Yeah, but not an impossible one,” Pare continued, “Besides, if Acthemenius is no help, there’s always the library at Kelef. I mean, I’ve never been there, but the artificers in Morrelton talk about it like it’s their holy ground. There’s bound to be someone there who can help.”

  Mane looked thoughtful, running his fingers and thumb over his beard. “We might get up there and find ourselves snowed in for the winter.”

  Pare began to show signs of excitement. “Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked. “A little time away from the cabin might do us all some good.”

  Mane took another breath but didn’t respond, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling above his chair. Eriane and Icariascus—Samuel couldn’t help but hear him called Rascal every time his name came to mind—returned, the construct taking up his customary station near the rear hallway while Eriane sat down on the step near Samuel. She tore off a sizeable chunk of bread and took a bite, smiling up at him as she chewed. It was a moment before she noticed the silence.

  She swallowed. “What’s going on?”

  “The snows haven’t started in earnest yet,” Pare said directly to Mane, ignoring Eriane’s inquiry. “We could make the journey before winter starts.”

  “Journey?” Eriane asked. “Where?”

  Mane continued to examine the books on his ceiling. “If the autumn weather holds like last year, we may not get any serious snow for another month,” Pare continued. “We could…”

  Mane held up a hand to stop Pare from continuing. “There’s a lot of ifs in this plan, you know.”

  “True, but you’re always the one saying the most important knowledge is gained from taking risks.”

  Eriane forgot her bread and watched the exchange, rubbing her arms to ward off the cold. “Careful now, Pare,” Mane said, “or you might let your cabin fever cloud your judgment.”

  Pare flushed. “I…” he began, but shook his head and thought better of whatever he was going to say. He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I won’t deny I’m feeling a little…cramped. The prospect of some time away from Morrelton and the cabin is enticing. You can’t deny it’s a good idea, though. It’s our best next step.”

  Eriane’s eyes were wide as she listened, and Samuel saw her shiver. At first, he thought it was a sign of excitement, but the way she had her arms crossed told him she was just cold. He looked over to see that the fire had died down to only one small flicker of flame. The fire had never been this low since he arrived, and the fireplace mechanism made no move to stoke or fuel it. He was about to comment on the oddity when Mane continued.

  “Well, I think you’re right on that count,” he said. Pare set his book aside and stood, his face split by an almost childlike grin. The look caught Samuel funny, being such a departure from his standard stern demeanor. Mane raised a hand again. “But we don’t need to leave right this second. If we’re going to be trudging into the mountains, let’s take a day or two and make sure we’re—”

  A sudden rush of air staggered Pare backward a step and fluttered papers all over the room. There was a loud whump and a crash of energy splashed outward in ribbons at shoulder height. The dissipating energy revealed a cloaked figure in a half-crouch, who took an awkward tumble amongst the pillows with a grunt. Mane sprang to his feet and was in front of his workbench while everyone else in the room sat stunned. A look of genuine alarm crossed Mane’s face. It was the first time Samuel saw him shaken.

  The figure twisted beneath its long cloak, turning to face them. Gloved hands emerged from the folds of charcoal grey fabric, moving to pull back the hood. From behind an unkempt tangle of dark, shoulder-length hair, Jacob’s eyes darted around the room, resting on Mane, whose alarm shifted to a mix of confusion and anger. Jacob spoke, his voice thick.

  “They’re coming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  * * *

  “Who?” much to Samuel’s surprise, was Mane’s first question. Jacob still remained half-crouched, his position so awkward Samuel wondered how he held it until he saw Pare’s hands. He’d felt Pare’s grip and knew Jacob couldn’t move.

  “Two of them,” Jacob responded. “Looking for Samuel. They…they killed Atherton after…after he told them about your cabin.”

  “Atherton didn’t know about my cabin,” Mane replied.

  “Please, let me loose,” Jacob pleaded. “We don’t have much time.”

  Mane nodded. Pare gave a reluctant grunt and released Jacob, who stumbled sideways before getting to his feet.

  “How did they find us, Jacob?” Mane insisted, his voice deadly quiet.

  “One of them…his name’s Colton…he gets in people’s heads. Made Atherton take them to Michael’s grave.” Jacob hesitated. “He gave Michael the Breath.”

  Mane’s face flashed with anger, and he flicked a glance at Pare, who stood with his jaw locked at Jacob’s description.

  “They’ve got a breaker with them,” Jaco
b continued. “A damned good one.”

  “That must be how Jacob was able to get in,” Pare said, deflecting Mane’s attention. As if on cue, a book loosened from its moorings in the ceiling and dropped to the floor, pulling everyone’s attention.

  “He’s corroded every protection between the Bleeding Pine and here,” Jacob said. “He must be talented if you didn’t know.”

  “Which means we have even less time,” Mane said, turning to Icariascus. A few more books began to fall, and more were slipping. “Take them in back and get them ready.” He turned back to Pare. “Pare, pack up. Take Samuel and Eri to the waterfall.”

  “That’s a mile into the woods,” Pare said, calm and matter-of-fact.

  “They’ll never make it, Mane,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “They’ve rounded up a mob. Eight or ten who believe they’re tracking a murderer.”

  “They’re not far off the mark,” Pare spat, getting in Jacob’s face.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Mane said. “Pare, Eri, go in back with Icariascus this instant.” Mane’s tone was unmistakable; Pare and Eriane did as they were told.

  “How far can you translocate?” Mane asked Jacob.

  “Distance isn’t the issue,” Jacob replied. “It’s knowledge. I have to have a pretty solid working image of where I’m going, or I could end up way off course...or worse.”

  “Knowledge won’t be a problem,” Mane said. “Is a mile?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had to try.”

  “Well, you will now,” he said, the command in his voice amplified by his anger.

  “How many?”

  “Pare, Eri, Samuel,” Mane said.

  “What about…” Mane’s look stopped him from finishing his question. Pare and Eriane returned carrying heavy rucksacks, their winter clothes hastily thrown on. Something heavy clattered to the floor at Pare’s feet and Samuel saw Reet rolling off the step.

  “What’s going on?” Eriane asked, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes as more books shook loose.