Wallace

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As I'd hoped, the tallest targets were the elves, escorting a group of what was otherwise a bunch of fey.

The ingots rippled as they liquified and struck the pair right between their shoulder blades.

One of them gave a strangled cry as the impact knocked them off their feet, and she went down heavily as her bonds stopped her from catching herself.

This group had one of the two carts we'd spotted. It was positioned off to one side, and from the hotel's perspective, it would be just behind the crest of the hill. It faced away from the hotel, with at least the first few yards of travel clear of foliage that might hold them up.

The pair of elves had stood by the tailgate of the wagon, and even now, one of them leaned against it for support as they struggled with the quickly hardening metal.

Further to the left and nearer to the hotel were the remaining fey as they prepared to advance on the hotel. I had every intention of scaring the hell out of them.

I don't care how collected you are. If eight feet of muscle comes bursting out of the forest, flinging spells about, the experience is bound to be a little startling.

Turns out I did my job a little too well.

The shock and fear were plain to read in those four sets of purple eyes, and as I drew my hands out of my pockets, each clutching a fresh ingot, one of the women raised a palm. The pale skin of her hand stood out starkly in the darkness.

I adjusted my aim slightly, targetting the only one among the group who seemed to be in any state to respond. But before I could loose my spell, the air crackled, and the palm I was fixated on became engulfed in searing light.

She let out a terrified scream as the lightning bolt flashed out to spear me through the chest. I didn't feel the ingots slip from my fingers, but I heard the dull thumps as they hit the grass, and while I couldn't remember falling, I could feel the prickly pine needles against my cheek.

I found it hard to make sense of the words, to recognize they even were words, "What have you done?" one of the fey cried.

I struggled to breathe and felt a fluttering in my chest, accompanied by crushing pain.

I pressed a hand against the ground, trying to lift myself just enough to slip my other hand underneath me, but it only made the pain worse, and it seemed to spread out from the centre of my chest to cover both of my shoulders.

I had Movement and Body mana. I just needed to-

I snarled as I fought against my own bulk to press a hand to my chest and tried the spell.

It did nothing, and as my vision began to darken, I realized I could feel the amulet had grown hot against my chest. With numb fingers, I found it and tore it free of the necklace just before my vision faded, and I went limp.

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I'm not usually very pleased to wake up with a pounding headache, the sort of headache where your head throbs in time with your heartbeat. But between the throb and the fact I could no longer feel a flutter in my chest, I thought it safe to assume my heartbeat had returned to normal.

I remained still- not just because it still felt as if my chest was on fire -and kept my eyes closed.

There was something around my wrists and ankles, and through my shirt, I could feel rough planks pressing against my back. The quiet creak of wood and metal in motion and the gentle rocking motion told me I was in the back of their carriage, already on the move.

I was leaning against something, the cab, I guessed, and in front of me, I could hear the girls struggling to free the elves I'd incapacitated.

I opened my eye a sliver. I was indeed resting with my back against the cab, and while most of the fey were at the far end of the bed trying to get the liquified metal off the elves, one of them was much nearer. She'd dug through my things, and aside from having my ingots stacked up beside her, was busy trying to pry open the communication book.

And much closer, there were the cables that circled my wrists and ankles. Constructed of steel, it wouldn't give me any mana types I didn't already have access to in my blood. I could still get out of it by using it as material for a spell, but as cable instead of a chain, I'd need to convert the entire mass into mana, not just a single link. Not the best idea unless I had somewhere to put all that energy.

Not that it mattered.

I strained my shoulders, and while I felt an uncomfortable tightness across the front of my chest, it wasn't anywhere near enough to keep me from mustering the strength to snap the cable binding my wrists.

I clenched my fists and pressed my wrists against each other, levering my arms apart. The cable shrieked as it stretched and gave out, and the fey holding the book looked up with a start, her violet eyes wide.

With my ankles still bound, I pushed off the cab, using it for leverage as I threw myself forwards.

The fey dropped the book and scrambled back, but not far enough to put her out of reach. I caught her around the head, with my thumb on her brow and my fingers curled around the back of her skull. I almost came down on top of her but caught myself with my other hand. By happenstance, it came down among the ingots, which had been scattered as she'd scrambled backwards, and I grabbed one.

The fey at the back of the carriage had only just begun to figure out the Transformation magic I used to liquefy the metal and had just started to free one of the elves.

Stolen story; please report.

With the blindfold half-undone and one free hand, she lunged for a nearby pack, and her hand came free with a fistful of coins, several of them slipping from her grasp in her haste.

I didn't waste time focusing my thoughts and instead threw the ingot to strike her in the forearm. There was a crack, and her arm bent where it shouldn't. She gritted her teeth and groaned as the remaining coins fell from her grasp, and she fell back, holding the arm tight to her chest.

"Give me your parole," I demanded, another ingot already in hand, "Or this is going to get a lot worse."

My eyes scanned the bed of the wagon, looking for the zinc I'd need to liquefy the metal for another spell, but it was all piled up at the far end, the fey needing it to free the elven pair I'd disabled.

I could try a Movement spell to send some of it flying over to me, or-

The wheels locked up under braking, and even as I lurched backwards, someone- the driver -leapt on me from behind.

She got her skinny purple arms around my neck, and while she was a hell of a lot stronger than she had any right to be, I'd spent enough time wrestling with Val to know this wasn't anywhere close to what the tattoos could do.

The ingot hit the planks with a thunk, and I reached over my back to grab her between the shoulder blades. Her grip on my neck slipped as I pulled her forwards and threw her down in the bed of the truck, my hand still holding fast to the back of her maid costume.

"So we can keep fighting," I lifted the woman by the back of her costume and shook her like a ragdoll, "Or, you girls can give me your parole, everyone can calm the hell down, and we can see about splinting her arm."

"W-we captured you first," protested one of the fey, and though the fact she was huddled at the far end of the wagon made it challenging to take her seriously, I really didn't want to fight her.

It was even harder to take them seriously with the stupid maid costumes they all wore, but that didn't mean they couldn't hurt me.

"No, what you did was panic and nearly kill me. You almost stopped my heart, so I'm not in a great fucking mood at the moment."

The elf whose arm I'd broken had collected herself, and though her teeth were gritted, she gave no other sign of being in pain. Like the others, she was frozen, though without exception, their eyes roamed, looking for something, anything, that could be used to power a spell.

I had no idea what they might have hidden away in some pocket or pouch, but there were always the coins. Dozens of silver coins scattered the bed of the wagon, dropped by the elf, and then sent sliding this way and that as the driver had taken us up and over the rough terrain before finally slamming on the brakes.

Here I was, watching and waiting for one of them to grab for a weapon when the damned floor was covered in them.

"I healed you," another of them stammered.

I lifted the fey I was holding by the skull, and the nervous fey's eyes met my prisoner's, "And it's a good thing you did."

Finally, the last of them spoke and said the words we were all waiting for.

"Alright," she said quietly, "We surrender."

I loosened my grip on the two captives, "You give me your parole?"

She nodded.

"All of you?"

"Yes, dammit," the elf with the broken arm snapped, "You win, we give up."

I let go of the two fey and released the breath I'd been holding.

"Are you going to let me out of this?" The elf demanded.

"Yes," I replied, though instead of going to help her immediately, I took the communication book from where the fey had dropped it.

I sat back, holding the book close to my chest, and opened it carefully.

W to All: Almost died, better now, on the way back in their truck.

I shut the book before any of them could read any of our messages, or worse yet, see one of Val's drawings. Then, their worries assuaged, I shuffled over to the end of the bed, holding onto the side for support as the driver turned the truck around.

I found the zinc they'd pilfered from my things, and after seeing to the bit of cable still tied around my ankles, re-liquified the metal I'd used on the elves. With the iron returned to solid form and the ingots pocketed, the pair were free to rub their wrists, or whatever else you're supposed to do when someone unshackles you.

With the free, I found my amulet and returned to sit against the cab. While it didn't afford a view of the driver, I could hear her just fine, and I was close enough to leap for the wheel if I needed to.

They were silent for a long while, and it wasn't until I felt the front of the truck begin to lift as we made the climb up to the hotel that the silence was broken.

It was the elf who spoke, the one whose arm I'd broken. It had been splinted by one of the fey, and aside from slathering the arm with ointment, they'd also given her a potion of some sort. While I wasn't sure the arm was quite fixed, she still wore the splint, there was markedly less pain in her expression.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know we were there, how did you know we were given orders that you weren't to be slain, how did you know Simon intended to strike when he did. How did you know any of it? How could you know?"

"It's not like you were using an enigma machine."

Simon must have explained the concept to them, as she seemed to catch the reference. Her gaze flicked to the side, and I glanced over my shoulder, following it.

There, through the door to the cab, was the radio set, its antenna protruding through the ceiling.

I leaned in, feeling around the front of the radio set. They might not have an enigma machine, but odds were good they had some sort of encryption device, even if it was something simple like a decoder ring.

"Remember to drink your Ovaltine," I muttered, "Ah- There it is."

Sliding around on the floor was a large wooden disc, half-again as large as a two-dollar coin. It was hardly the only one, and I picked up a couple.

I turned the discs over in my hand. Each was about a quarter-inch thick and had a series of letters carved into its edge. They were in what appeared to be a random order, and after a moment to check over each, I found there were no repetitions. Each letter appeared exactly once per disk, and the spacing between them was consistent between each of the disks.

I turned the disks over to check their faces and found them undecorated except for a hastily scrawled number. I held numbers two, five, and seven in my hands, and I found it reasonable to assume the rest were still sliding around in the cab.

I didn't know the specifics, but I got the idea. And the fact they'd scrambled up the discs and thrown them on the floor, well, it might not be an enigma machine, but that was clever. One of the barriers to decoding Enigma machines was knowing the rotors used and the specific order they were used in. It was hardly the only measure the Germans used, but I wasn't Alan Turing or Benedict Cumberbatch, so it was likely to be plenty in this case.

I lined up the discs, rotating them until I had a matching row of 'A's. As expected, none of the other letters lined up. So despite my bluff, I wouldn't be reading any of Simon's messages unless I knew the exact order he was using.

I tossed the discs over my shoulder, and they landed back on the floor of the cab.

"It's a clever trick," I offered, "But it can hardly stand up to modern computing."

And that was true. While I hadn't cracked his code before, the captured radio set would go a long way to cleaning up the signal, and now that I knew the encryption method, it should be a lot easier to devise some countermeasure.

I suppose I could have brute-forced it before, maybe some raw letter frequency analysis, but even in hindsight, I doubted it would get me very far. The messages were too short to get a good sense of the letters, and while I might have looked at several messages together to increase my sample size, it would be a wasted effort if they changed the order of the discs.

But now that I knew the specifics, well, some ideas came to mind.

I felt the truck roll to a halt, and lifting the canvas, I found we were stopped on the ramp just before the gatehouse. I gathered up the communication book and swung over the side. Val stood at the far end of the drawbridge with her arms crossed, her expression far more exasperated than it was amused.

Oh, I'm about to get an earful.