A large rapidly rotating metallic disk with jagged edges along the perimeter was headed straight for Arjun’s neck. He barely had enough time to duck. It thudded into the back wall sending bits of clay, sand, and cement everywhere.
Cursing his luck, Arjun turned back to face his foe, who was a human, judging by his stature. What was highly unusual about this particular human was that he was encased in a glossy metallic substance, a full-body armor that left no part of his skin visible. Worryingly, it also kept blocking all of Arjun’s efforts to ascertain the kernel signature of whoever was underneath. Even his mental talent proved only marginally useful, giving him only the vaguest clues about his foe’s intentions.
The other puzzling thing was that, including the thumb, he had only three fingers on each of his hands, all of them almost twice as thick as a normal human finger. More importantly, the entire surface of the armor, especially around the heart and head regions, were absolutely littered with sigils, of every possible combination, creating a kaleidoscope of symbols, all glowing a faint blue. These were no simple warding sigils. Indeed, these were more complex than any network of sigils Arjun had ever seen, including those in books. He absently wondered if the sigils were somehow blocking his talent, though he couldn’t fathom how or why that would happen.
Two more of the strange armor-clad guards joined the fray, attacking James and Eve. This Master Artificer must really take his security seriously. Employing guards armored in such a manner can’t be cheap. Any further thought of what that implied was interrupted as the first guard engaged Arjun.
He’d always prided himself in his close-quarter combat skills. His father had taught him well. Even James, usually so stingy with his praises, had once described it as ‘adequate’. But this fellow seemed to be able to guess his moves almost beforehand. A jab to the chest, deftly dodged. Kick to the knee-joint, neatly side-stepped. Using earth Manipulation to aid his attacks was inadvisable given the proximity of the Clerics. Forcing down his frustration, Arjun took a momentary step back, then cast his senses outward, trying to determine how his companions were faring. Perhaps they’d be able to come to his aid.
James had a few drops of blood on the shoulder of his torn shirt. A shallow cut, hardly a problem for the battle-hardened Cleric. He also had a deep scowl on his face. And as far as Arjun could tell, he was holding back while fighting the guard, and not just because of the chasing Clerics, although only Aimin knew why.
Eve was a bit more cavalier about her use of active Manipulation, though she restricted it to only air, which tended to leave more subtle ripples in the surrounding essence than earth, wood, or metal. Still, her opponent had a great big dent on the side of his helmet, a helmet that melded seamlessly with the rest of his armor.
Even as Arjun watched, she did a quick pirouette using her left Sole, then her right Sole smacked into the other side of the helmet, creating a matching dent. The guard staggered for a moment, slowly shaking his head, but recovered quickly. His response was a closed fist that Eve didn’t even bother dodging, though given her reflexes, she clearly could have. Instead, she took it head on, her momentary air-shield stopping the blow mid-swing. Thereafter, her own punch, again closed-fisted, which was an oddity for a Material Manipulator, delivered a trifecta of dents, right on the nose of the hapless guard who smashed into the opposite wall with a resounding thud, his helmet by now looking like a baby elephant’s stomping ground.
Looking at said helmet closely, Arjun realized that the eye-holes, still miraculously intact, had an odd-looking translucent glass covering it. A soft white glow could be discerned within its dark-indigo depths, just like it could with his own opponent who, by some miracle of Aimin, had conjured up another one of those wicked looking disks and was about to hurl it at Arjun.
In the next blink, an earsplitting whistle sounded from somewhere above.
All three guards stopped moving instantly, the dazed one even halting mid-stride. After one or two flickers, all the sigils stopped glowing. It was almost as if they were…
Automatons!!
Arjun felt a cold shiver down his spine. Allfather help us!!!
Who in the flaming hell is this stonehorn? Creating automatons such as these could be construed as High Blasphemy, the punishment for which was instant death by beheading. The Tenets, Lore, and even the Historica were quite clear on this point. This was the domain of Allfather. Last time there existed any Artificer brilliant enough, and stupid enough, to create a fully-functioning automaton was back in the 15th century. Needless to say, the man had led a short and exciting life that had ended with his head being chopped off.
Arjun tried very hard to keep the encroaching panic at bay, expecting mechanical monstrosities at every dark corner. But the room seemed empty.
“By the Burning Balls of Bramka, are these what I think they are?” Eve said, mouth agape in an expression of horror.
“Automatons!! What madness prompted him…” James began just as the door in front of them banged open, and the shortest stonehorn Arjun had ever seen stormed into the cellar. He was barely four and a half feet tall.
“One man’s madness is another man’s genius,” the stonehorn all but shouted, quivering in anger.
His soft white flowing beard, stretching almost to his ample belly, bespoke great age. The scowling face, however, had relatively few wrinkles. The stony texture of his reddish skin looked almost cracked with age, and the wide backward-curving horns protruding from his forehead gleamed an ominous dark-gray. Overall, he gave off an impression of depth and complexity that both intrigued and frightened Arjun.
“Well, your genius nearly decapitated me,” James said, somehow finding a moment of levity in all this mayhem.
Giving an affectionate pat on the smooth metal head of the automaton that had attacked James, Krudil turned back to face the four of them.
Arjun was certain of his identity since this could be none other than the world-renowned Master Artificer of Shillang whose ability to create weapons of unparalleled quality was known by every aspiring Battle Cleric in all of Sindria, even one who preferred unarmed combat. Krudil was famous for being the only known full-blooded stonehorn who was a Master Artificer, which was quite simply an unbelievable achievement as, being a stonehorn, he lacked the ability to Manipulate matter.
“What trouble dogs your steps now, James? Just for once, be the bearer of good news,” Krudil said after giving both Arjun and Eve a speculative glance.
Arjun barely managed to keep the frown off his face. With only three automatons and four of them, perhaps it was a simple matter of chance that none had attacked Aisha. But Krudil’s reaction was certainly suggestive.
James grimaced. “I wish I was. But we have half the Clerics and Guards of the city on our tail.”
Krudil ground his teeth, growing redder in the face. His nostrils flared, and it seemed he was about to throw them out onto the streets. But just as fast as rage had transformed his features, it vanished, replaced by a hard calculating look.
“You did help with the testing of my latest prototype. I have my reasons, some of which you know, the rest will become apparent in time,” he said, forestalling James’ question. “Now follow me and be snappy about it. No dawdling. Do exactly as I say, and you may yet live to see the next twin-sunrise.” Then, he added in a low voice, almost to himself, “And I may get to finish my project.”
They exited the cellar and after a short flight of steps, found themselves in a wide corridor. Further ahead to the right was a rather large kitchen, beyond which was a sparsely decorated sitting room. Apart from an expensive leather-upholstered easy-chair, it was unremarkable.
Then, they entered the next room.
Arjun stopped dead in his tracks, taking in all the strange devices on display with wide excited eyes. Eve stormed inside, but also skidded to a halt beside him, a dumbstruck expression on her face. Seems not all aspiring Battle Clerics had heard of Krudil, after all.
“You seem to have picked up a few strays,” Krudil addressed James, his voice dripping with unrestrained tension and suspicion. The stonehorn’s sharp gaze lingered on Arjun for a moment before moving to Eve, who was aimlessly roaming about the room in an attempt to identify the various items on display. Interestingly, he’d made no move to stop her yet, though he kept a watchful eye on her.
“Yeah…well, it couldn’t be helped.” James eyed the immense wall-clock in the opposite side of the huge room, which proudly announced the time to be five and quarter bells past midday. The masterfully crafted clock was the least interesting object in the whole room, though it probably still cost more than Arjun’s entire house.
Large stone tables with marble tops were placed almost haphazardly throughout the room, presumably Krudil’s workshop. Arjun also spied lathes, pressing machines, grinding tools and countless other devices whose purpose eluded him completely. To the left, in front of an immense contraption similar to a smith’s forge but smaller and more compact, was a traditional anvil, as well as hammers of numerous shapes and sizes. There were also metal ingots, lying about almost randomly across the floor, and what looked like a half-completed great-sword made from a strange bluish metal. Large barrels of who knew what liquids were stacked in front of the right wall. On a table to the left was a tubular metallic device with glass on both ends that seemed somehow familiar to him. Arjun also saw a long barreled gun with no trigger mechanism. From what he’d read, guns were rarely used in warfare since they were notoriously unreliable and balky. An object on another table, the stone top of which was made from an unknown alabaster material, drew his attention, and Arjun approached it with disbelief in his eyes.
On it rested a sword complete with cross-guard and pommel showing an eagle in flight. Arjun recognized it instantly.
He whirled around, facing the stonehornish Artificer. “You’re making weapons for the Guards.” His puzzled gaze fell on the Battle Cleric who looked, and felt, perfectly relaxed. “Even as we speak, he could be giving us up.”
“That’s not for the Guards,” Krudil stated blandly. “It’s for the Grand Army. The one which would soon be camping outside the city, preparing to invade Arunia. Or more specifically, for one particular regiment of the Grand Army. But I do make them for the Guards and Troopers as well. What did you expect? I’m a Master Artificer living in Shillang which happens to be located inside Aiminia.” Anger was rolling off him like heat from a blazing forge.
Arjun threw up his arms in frustration. Eve’s glance darted from Krudil to James, probably trying to decide who to kill first. Aisha’s reaction was the most baffling. She was smiling, the sight of which momentarily put all thoughts of betrayal and imprisonment out of Arjun’s mind.
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James gave a disappointed shake of his head. “For a smart boy, you could be daft at times. Would I have risked coming here if I didn’t trust Krudil implicitly?” he asked, even though Arjun knew that he most certainly didn’t trust the stonehorn. At least, not as much as he was portraying. Successfully, when it came to the others.
“I guess not,” Arjun mumbled, shamefaced, trying to play his part.
The nuances of shading the truth without lying while trying to manipulate others for his own need – he might never be able to match up to the Cleric. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. In the present case, he might’ve jumped the gun, which was another problem commonly faced by devices powered by gunpowder. A talented Power Cleric with exceptional range could decimate whole enemy encampments that way – biggest reason guns were rarely employed en masse in battlefields. As for the Artificer, he must have good reasons for working with the Order and Army. Before Arjun could open his mouth to ask, diplomatically of course, what those reasons were, a distant pounding noise could be heard coming from somewhere behind them.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted that out.” Krudil’s glance toward Arjun held more curiosity than anger. “Now, follow me,” he said, taking a door to the right, which was hidden behind a giant metallic vertical tube connecting the floor to the roof. An indoor elevator, a novelty only affordable by the obscenely rich or extremely well-connected. Arjun’s feet indicated the basement held the actual inner laboratory of the mad Artificer, reachable only by the elevator, though the entrance seemed blocked right now.
On his way to the tube, which was a good three yards wide and just as deep, Arjun happened to be passing near a small table when a set of three scrolls, carelessly strewn about on the tabletop, caught his attention. The thin layer of dust coating them further demonstrated the neglect with which they were treated – which came as a shock since the contents of the scrolls, a network of sigils, seemed familiar in their complexity. Then, Arjun remembered the automatons. These were rough drafts, very rough yet staggeringly complex drafts. But they all seemed to be variations of a central theme, as if the Sigilmaster, whoever he was, had been trying to recreate something.
“There’s a time for satisfying your idle curiosity,” James said from just inside the elevator. “This isn’t one such time.”
Since James didn’t seem overly surprised to see the scrolls – and he did see them – Arjun put all the burning questions at the back of his mind and joined the others in the elevator. After a blessedly short ride, Arjun emerged onto the roof behind Aisha, blinking to get his eyes accustomed to the intense light of the afternoon.
Distinctive sound of whistles reached his ears. Lava-cursed Guards had found them. And not just one or two. By the sound of it, more than ten squads of them were approaching the house. From all directions. Of course, the Order would be with them as well. Far too many Clerics for James and Arjun to be able to handle.
And Eve. Mustn’t forget Eve. She was just as good a fighter as he was. In fact, she’d fared better than him in their fight with the strange automatons. Considering the fact that he’d sensed very little metal Manipulation from her during the fight, her kicks packed quite a punch. Arjun wondered where she’d learned to fight like that. He’d never seen or read of any earth Cleric who liked fighting with her foot off the ground. Or used closed fists while lacking strelenium-clawed gloves.
“I sure hope this works.” For the first time since meeting Krudil, Arjun detected a note of uncertainty in the Master Artificer’s voice.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You want us to…get on that?” Eve said, pointing to what looked like a giant balloon.
It had a large wooden bucket attached to one end. Arjun of course knew, in theory, how hot-air balloons worked. But this one looked to be a great deal more complicated than a mere balloon, with all sorts of devices placed around the perimeter of the bucket and where the silken cloth of the balloon connected with the bucket. It even had a machine with five steel blades protruding from a central mass. It all looked extremely intricate. And Krudil’s tone hardly inspired confidence.
“I see you’ve finally built a working life-size model. Have you tested it yet?” James asked, panning a critical gaze over the whole contraption.
“Not in the field. But it should work fine. For a bell at least…after that, the propellers might break. Stress fractures at high rotational velocities…perhaps need to use a different metal, maybe an alloy…” His voice drifted off, eyes distant.
“Are you certain it will work as it is supposed to for a bell?” James said, forcing Krudil’s attention back to the issue at hand.
“Yes. At least a bell. After that, it’s in Rodrugil’s hands.”
From what little Arjun knew of stonehornish mythology, Rodrugil was the god of fortune, both tangible and otherwise. Few stonehorns ever invoked his name, instead favoring the Maker Jukatis, or Classiklam, the god of conflict. Or Bramka. He was the god of heavens, if memory serves right.
“Alright. But can it take the five of us?”
“It can take four of you. I have unfinished business. And an alternative route of escape prepared, one unsuited for the rest of you.”
James gave a small nod, and then turned to face Aisha. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us. Someone might have seen you entering the smugglers’ tunnel with us. If you stay here you’ll be hunted and caught…then possibly tortured until you reveal everything about us.”
Arjun gulped. He hadn’t thought of that.
Aisha, however, seemed to take in this piece of information with remarkable calmness. Arjun narrowed his eyes but remained silent when he sensed she’d anticipated, and even welcomed, the request made by the Battle Cleric.
James clasped hands with the stonehorn. “We’ll talk when I see you next. Tell our mutual friend we may need his help sooner than we thought.”
“May Jukatis make your day prosperous,” Krudil returned. “And I will. He owes me a casket of premium mead after all the trouble I went through this past decade because of his misguided principles.”
After Aisha, Eve, and James climbed into the bucket, Arjun tentatively approached the fragile-looking craft made of bamboo, wondering what that was all about. Who were they referring to?
Behind him, Krudil had started tinkering with the ropes grounding the bucket to the surface of the roof, preparing to set the airship free, while in front, lay a daunting prospect. Prospect of being at the mercy of the fickle winds.
“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Hurry up,” Eve urged, motioning with her hand. She still had the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
“Just preparing myself mentally,” Arjun muttered under his breath.
He wasn’t looking forward to being airborne, as it would cut off his primary source of external stimuli. Saying a final prayer to Allfather, Arjun jumped into the cursed thing. After wobbling for a moment following the dreaded sense of disorientation, he soon found himself sitting on the floor of the craft, too afraid to look around. Flight means no contact with the ground. Blessed ground.
Once Krudil finished unfastening the ropes, the balloon and bucket carrying the four travelers started floating upward, at first slowly, then picking up speed. Soon, Arjun was forced to rely solely on his five mundane senses to interpret the world, and just as he had feared, it was a frightening experience.
James, it seemed, was familiar with the workings of the craft, at least in theory. He gave an iron lever a mighty heave. A loud whirring noise indicated the strange blades, or propellers as Krudil had called them, had started spinning. Soon, the airship started moving laterally toward the distant Kailash, visible in the northern horizon. The height ensured even the strongest Clerics on the ground couldn’t prevent the balloon from launching, though several weak gusts of wind indicated it wasn’t for lack of trying. Some of them also tried to use essence-constructs to float upward, but every single one of them dissolved once they reached a certain height.
Krudil did indeed take security of his workshop quite seriously. The whole outside of the Sigrid-blasted building was warded, using hundreds of sigils that were only now flaring into existence. Analyzing the sigils from one short nervous peek over the edge of the balloon proved impossible, given their complexity. But any longer and Arjun might’ve lost the amazing lunch he’d enjoyed at Kevin’s inn.
After a while, having recovered his senses to some extent, Arjun decided to explore the airship. There was a large cylindrical device placed at the center of the floor which was sending steady streams of hot air into the balloon, keeping it afloat while the propellers seem to be the only object providing lateral thrust. The exact purpose of the other numerous components might be known to James. But before he could ask him that, Arjun’s eyes fell toward the ground, and he lost all feeling of equanimity he’d so carefully nurtured.
“We must be hundreds of feet up in the air. Astounding,” Eve said. Then, worry replaced the wonder in her voice. “Looks like we have company, though.”
A large contingent of Guards had started following on horseback. But the airship was slowly but inexorably starting to gain a sizeable lead. Soon, the five-hundred or so Guards resembled ants crawling across the ground.
Arjun heaved a sigh of relief. At least now there was one less thing to worry about.
“You don’t trust him, do you?” James asked in a low voice. The windy conditions meant that the precaution was unnecessary, but the man was cautious to the point of being paranoid.
Of course, they both knew who he was referring to.
“No,” Arjun said, trying to articulate the feeling he’d gotten from the Artificer. “He’s too calculating. Even his apparent good deeds,” Arjun said, indicating their current mode of transportation, “feels…measured.”
“They are,” James said while fiddling with one of the many gears on the central column that was pumping hot air into the enormous balloon over their heads. “His only allegiance is to himself, or rather to his projects. I don’t trust him. Not fully. However, I do trust his instinct for self-preservation, which, at the present moment of time, requires our continued survival.” The nod he gave in the end indicated the topic was closed for further discussion.
Arjun wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily. Taking a cue from the Battle Cleric himself, he decided to go about this in a circuitous manner. There were still so many wonderful mysteries to unveil, after all.
“Who is the Sigilmaster?”
“Krudil himself drew those, as well as the sigils on the automatons. Unbeknownst to most, he’s also a Sigilmaster, though not as talented as Spencer, who you might meet at the University.”
That statement got Arjun’s heart racing. Then, a thoughtful frown formed. “Seemed like he was trying to recreate something…a memory, perhaps. Did he succeed? With the automatons, I mean.”
“If he did, he wouldn’t still be stuck here in Shillang, and we’ll most likely be languishing in a strelenium cell surrounded by Clerics.” He turned his back on Arjun, and resumed his fiddling, a less than subtle way of telling him no further questions will be entertained.
Arjun gave a helpless shake of the head and moved over to sit beside his newest acquaintance.
“Gonna be dark soon. Can we cross the Kailash on this thing?” Eve asked from beside the half-aditaru. She was enjoying this far too much for Arjun’s liking. He didn’t think he’d seen her smile once before boarding the ship. Now, she couldn’t stop grinning.
James grunted. “We’d be lucky to reach the Lower Kailash.”
“A bell.” Arjun nodded.
Aisha, huddled next to the center of the bamboo floor, glanced up apprehensively. A feeling of warmth entered his Heart upon realizing he wasn’t alone in his misery.
“How long has it been?” Eve asked.
An involuntary groan escaped Arjun’s lips as he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly how long it had been.
The answer reached them not from the Cleric but from the propellers. The whole mechanism groaned once, the speed of rotation slowing, then appeared to correct itself, only to suddenly stop spinning.
“Damned stonehorns and their punctuality,” Eve spat, jumping to her feet.
The airship started drifting northward with the winds, with continuous small nudges provided by James, an impressive feat of air Manipulation. Eve moved to aid him as Arjun looked on helplessly. He once more cursed his own lack of air-affinity, a trait he’d inherited from his father. Who may or may not be his biological father. Arjun’s heart dropped as the idea sprang to mind.
But the situation was too desperate to dwell on such dreary thoughts. Who brought him into this wondrous world mattered little when he was moments away from departing it. Facing impending doom, Arjun roused his pathetic air Manipulation abilities one last time to provide whatever help he could.
Within a fraction of a bell it became apparent that, as impressive as they were, James and Eve’s efforts weren’t going to be sufficient to keep the craft afloat, as it kept swerving to the right. Alarmingly, the Aimin-blasted machine also started losing altitude. Noticing this, James swore and started fiddling with the machine spewing hot gas into the balloon. After failing to fix the problem, he gazed downward, first to the north, then back south toward Shillang which was no longer visible over the horizon. In a short span of time, they’d made good ground. Or air.
“Now what?” Arjun screamed over the wind, absolutely terrified.
“Now, we land.”