Bayne

Bayne nibbled the last bit of rabbit meat off the bone as he reworked the wires inside the power source. A connector pinched his finger—sausage fingers, Ruthie used to tease him—and he growled and spat the bone into the fire so he could suck on the pad to soothe the throbbing. At least it was connected now. The purple crystals were able to power the golems, but not for long periods. They’d produce a burst of energy that kept the quartz generator humming for an hour or two at most, but then it petered out, the energy lost. He’d installed a tiny buffer, hoping to slow the release of energy from the crystal, or, more accurately, to capture some of that energy inside the buffer to be released in a more measured stream into the quartz generator, rather than everything exploding and then sizzling out, like a match.

He balanced the power source on his knees, said a quick prayer to the Rubies, then flicked it on. The bulb he’d attached buzzed to life. That was good.

Then it burned white hot and exploded. That was not good.

The purple crystal inside crumbled to dust, and the log underneath Bayne shifted, then cracked, Bayne’s bottom crunching through it like dried bone. He hopped up and stared at the desiccated wood. It had already been dead, but now any organic matter that had been in it seemed to have been burnt away. No, not burned—there was no heat. Teleported away. Gone. Just like with a portal.

An egg-shaped piece of the forest floor was similarly sucked lifeless. What had once been a bed of pine needles and loamy soil was now brittle remains and sand. Bayne looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. This had been happening, over and over again, every time he tested one of the crystals, and every time it did, Bayne felt more and more guilty.

He was failing.

They’d seen patches of forest completely destroyed like this as they marched. Bayne couldn’t help but wonder—was that the result of someone else’s use of the crystals? Or his? How far-reaching was the damage every time he wasted a crystal?

“You there, Dwarf Engineer!”

Bayne slowly lifted his gaze from the power source to the frowning visage of Kenji Zamora. What on Terris did the Imperial Sentinel want with Bayne?

“You’d better figure that out. Our scouts have found the Elven stronghold, and our contingent will be upon it soon. We can’t have our Annihilators seizing up in the middle of battle.”

“Golems,” Bayne mumbled.

“What was that?”

“They’re called golems.”

Zamora showed his teeth; several had too much space between them. “They were called golems. But that was an old war. This is a new one. They deserve a new name.” Zamora gazed fondly up at the five frozen machines watching over the camp. “I’ve called them Annihilators, because that’s what I expect they’ll do—punch a hole into the Elven defensive line and make a rift for our forces to march through.” Kenji Zamora reached for another skewer of rabbit on Bayne’s plate. “You ever hear the old story of the ant and the wolf?”

“No,” Bayne said. He didn’t want to hear it either, but he couldn’t think of a polite way to say so.

“A wolf and an ant were at odds over who should rule a piece of Terris. The ant proposed they fight for it. Laughing, the wolf agreed. They were to gather their forces and meet at sunrise at the appointed place. When the time came, the wolf showed up with his pack and two more packs that lived nearby. There were about fifty wolves altogether. The ant showed up with his forces—five hundred thousand in number. Who do you think won?”

Bayne fiddled with the converter, silent.

“The ants!” Kenji answered for him. “They crawled up the legs of every single wolf and bit them. The poison from one tiny ant can’t hurt you, but numbers...” Kenji laughed an ugly laugh. “It’s numbers that make the difference.” He turned his attention to the camp cook. “You there! Make me a plate for the Emperor.”

“I’d better get back to work.” Bayne gathered his things and left his campsite with the dead patches of ground, headed for higher, quieter ground, away from the bustle of the camp, where he could think.

A fellow Dwarf nodded at him on the path back down to camp, and Bayne’s eye followed where he had come from—a stone grotto with a handful of Dwarves kneeling inside. They’d built a shrine.

He wandered in that direction, drawn in by the calm and somber tone. The gems were lined up against the stone backdrop, each with their own sacred space: ruby, emerald, diamond. He padded behind the other pilgrims and kneeled down in front of the large ruby clamped into its setting. Red. So beautiful. Bayne dropped to his knees and let the power generator fall to the side. Clasping his hands together, he kissed the red lines ringing his fingers.

Help me to make this work, he prayed. A simple prayer, he knew, but Ruthie always said simple prayers were the best prayers. Their simplicity was proof they weren’t for show. The other Dwarves eventually got up and left to report for evening duty, but Bayne remained, that short, simple prayer hanging in the air. His thoughts eventually began to find cohesion. Quartz was used for generators because it was the best conductor of Terris’ electricity. But the purple crystals’ power wasn’t electricity, not exactly. It was a different form of energy, something the quartz was only able to capture part of.

What if another type of crystal could harness it better?

Bayne looked around. The shrine was empty, save for him. Tomorrow they would march on the Elven stronghold. The time for praying would be over. Was it wrong to take the gems, now that everyone was done with them?

Of course it’s wrong! he scolded himself. Stealing is wrong.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

It’s not wrong if it saves your people, he heard in Ruthie’s voice. They’re just gems. We’ll find more. It’s the spirit of them that matters, and that’s present no matter what.

Bayne slipped the gems into his bag and hurried back to camp before he could think about it any longer. At his campsite, he began his work, breaking the stones into small enough pieces to fit into the generator. Then he ran his experiments, testing each mechanism, one by one. Ivy wandered up as he did, standing over him and staring as he worked.

“Where have ye been?” Bayne asked, even though he knew.

“In the Emperor’s litter.”

He ground his teeth. He’d been meaning to talk to her about this. “What were ye two doing?”

“Nothing.” She squinted at his work. “What are you working on?”

“I’m just trying to protect ye,” he said, ignoring her question. “An old man and a wee girl... it’s not seemly.”

“It’s not like that.”

But Bayne thought she still looked uncomfortable. Although, granted, he was not the best at reading people. “Ye can stay here with me. I’ll protect ye.”

“I don’t need protection.” Her eyes flashed. “I can take care of myself.”

Bayne swirled his reply around in his mouth, like a swallow of a good drink. She was right. She’d survived a long time without him. What made him think she needed him now?

“You’re running the energy through the other crystals,” she said, peering at the generator in his hands. Her hair fell away from her neck, exposing the shining scar.

“Where’d ye get that?” Bayne demanded, still feeling ornery. He pointed at his own neck.

Her eyes narrowed. “I was born with it.”

“Born with a scar?”

“Show me what you’re working on,” she said, grabbing a camp stool and dragging it beside him.

He stiffened. That’s not what they were talking about.

“Show me.” Her big green eyes searched his, and suddenly he felt less ornery.

“Aye then.” He moved the generator to the knee closest to her. “I’ve lined them up in serial fashion, see. First the emerald, then the ruby, then the diamond, then the quartz. Each type of gem absorbs a different form of energy. If we run the crystal’s power through all the gems, we should be able to capture more of it. Then—and this is the best part—I’ve got the gems arranged in a closed circuit, where each gem feeds the next, creating a circular system where the energy is passed between them, over and over again. Recycled. One crystal should power a golem for days. If I did it right.”

“And if you didn’t do it right?”

“Well, it might blow the bulb up, like all the other times. And if I wired it wrong, it’ll blow the whole thing up.” He mimed an explosion. “But I’d be a pretty sorry engineer if I wired it wrong, wouldn’t I?”

Ivy’s head bobbed in excitement. “Let’s try it!”

He checked to make sure each gem was properly seated and produced yet another purple crystal from the satchel they kept filled to the brim for him. His stomach squeezed a mite. Every time he used one of these, it destroyed another piece of Terris.

Well, if he succeeded with his power converter, they’d need fewer crystals, so that was a good thing, right?

As he fitted the crystal into the generator, he realized his lightbulb had exploded from the last test. “Will ye get me a lightbulb from my workshop?” he asked Ivy. He squinted. It was growing dark. “And a torch, too?”

She stood without hesitation. “Where’s your headlamp?”

“Gone missing.” He was still peeved about that. One of the rougher soldiers had probably taken it. She came back with the bulb and flicked on the quartz battery-powered torch, holding the light steady. She was a good assistant. He screwed the bulb in. “Are ye ready?”

She nodded, eyes shining.

“Are ye sure about that?”

A huge grin split her narrow face. He pressed the switch, and the generator hummed to life. Bayne held his breath, and he heard Ivy suck in a breath beside him. The purple crystal lit up, and the emerald beside it glowed a healthy green. The ruby lit up with the beautiful red of a summer sunset, and next, the diamond sparkled like fire on ice. The quartz began to vibrate, and the filament inside the lightbulb came to life, not in a frenzied explosion, but in a sturdy, careful manner. A sustainable manner.

“You did it!” Ivy cried, clapping her hands.

“That’s just half of it,” Bayne replied, brows knitted as he studied the device. “We know we can get the energy flowing, but will the circuit hold? That’s what we really want to see.”

Ivy settled back on her stool and leaned in close.

“Careful!” Bayne warned, moving the lightbulb farther from her eager face. “It might blow up again. Where are those safety spectacles I gave ye?”

Ivy disappeared for a full second and reappeared with an oversized pair of Dwarven glasses. They tilted sideways on her narrow face.

“That’s better.” But his attention was stolen by the generator in his hand. The gems were pulsing, their colors fading. He tapped the purple crystal, and the machine gave one final heave, then went dark.

“It didn’t work,” Ivy said sadly.

Bayne sighed and leaned back, the generator balanced on his knee. “It’s a closed system, but not closed enough. Too much energy is lost jumping from one gem to another. The circuit can’t sustain itself.”

Ivy took the device from his knee. She blew the dust from the spent purple crystal away, and Bayne tried not to notice the new pale circle of dead earth beneath her feet. Her nimble fingers pulled out the gemstones.

“The purple crystal isn’t from here, and you don’t understand it,” she murmured. It took Bayne a moment to realize she was talking to the gemstones. She held up the emerald. “You understand part of what it’s saying.” She fingered the ruby. “And you understand part.” She held the diamond so high it caught the last rays of sunset. “And the last part of it, you understand. But it’s too hard for it to talk to all three of you. It takes too long.”

Bayne rubbed his chin. Of course, the crystal and the gems didn’t really talk to each other, but she had a point, in a poetic sort of way.

“If we could cram all of you together”—she closed her small hands around all three gems, nesting them inside—“then the purple crystal could say everything it wanted to say, and you would understand, and you could translate it for the quartz...” Her face twisted up in a question. “Isn’t there a gem that has all the colors in it?”

“All the colors? No, that’s—” But as she flicked her braid aside, Bayne’s gaze fell upon her scar, shiny and egg-shaped with flecks of color. It reminded him of an opal.

Opals, too, had flecks of color in them. They weren’t generally useful in engineering because they were unpredictable. They did the work of emeralds, rubies, and diamonds, but chaotically. When the energy came back out again, it was never the same as when it came in. Opals tore energy apart.

But maybe that’s what they needed. To tear down the crystals’ energy. Convert it to something else. Something basic. Something Terris could use. Energy was energy, after all. It was all about the form it took.

“Ivy, yer a genius!” Bayne swept the gems from her hands and dropped them into his pocket, giving the ruby a quick kiss beforehand. “Come on, lass.”

“Where are we going?”

He handed her a pickaxe. “Why, to mine some opals, of course!”