Alicia Alcorin ran through the dark, wet passages, her heart pounding in her chest. They had found her again!
She flew down the cavernous chambers, feet pounding hard with the echoing sounds of dripping water from high above.
She discovered this new set of chambers a few months ago when on a hunch, she took to exploring Windsail City's deep caverns it was built on top of. She could feel she was close to a crossroads. It gave off a slight magical sensation she had grown accustomed to. The life she had fled from was built around magic and its deep mysteries.
But that was the past. She would never return to that life again. The horrors of what went on had no accountability, nobody to stand up and say they had gone too far. "Family" was a dangerous word. It invoked the darkest terrors of some of the most powerful, influential humans in two worlds.
After years of running, she had slowed down, hoping that she had escaped her relentless pursuers. Nobody would know her in Windsail City and nobody could tell she was running from someone.
Gaining employment in Tarkon's capital, she was on edge for the first two weeks. Everywhere she walked, her fingers were inches from the sword hilt that had become part of her. Training in the most ruthless places made it a necessity.
But here, the quietness of the city, the seeming peace about the place had given her pause. Was she free at last? Had she truly escaped the brutal dark horrors her mind kept playing in her mind?
Windsail City was large, filled with many different races of people. Surrounded by the Twilight Forest on the eastern edge of the Whiteface river, an abandoned Dragonblood outpost to the north, there was no safer place.
The world was still feeling the devastating war between Dragonblood and the White Council.
It was long in coming, her father, as always, playing the master puppeteer behind the world governments. He had masterminded many brutal wars for his own benefit, caring nothing for human or fae life.
White Council soldiers, accompanied by war mages, marched across the world, and systematically destroyed Dragonblood’s strongholds, leaving little in their wake. The once powerful guardians and appointed emissaries between human and magicborn, dwindled. It bore an ominous omen for the future. The White Council’s eyes were set on Dragonblood’s home in the Whiteface Mountains. But they would have to contend with the Ancient Lords themselves, the dragon tribes, if they ever wanted to march through those lands. And dragons hated the White Council with a passion. Still, without emissaries to keep true peace, there was no telling what would come. The fae, consisting of dragons, unicorns, fairies, all that were native born of the world’s infused magic, saw humans as invaders who had introduced death to immortal races. The hatred for this was strong.
And the White Council, propelled by Garland Lords and the greed for magic, refused to heed the warning signs they had caused. Their blatant disrespect for the natives, listening to the nine gods and their underlings, were all poisoning the world, tainting the purity of deep magic. They owed a great blood debt.
Alicia had watched in horror the devastation played out while fleeing across the world.
At the height of Dragonblood’s golden age, they had amassed great knowledge, even after the Ancient Lords had placed a binding spell on humanity never to remember their technology and it’s devastating, destructive power. The outcome was one of their greatest achievements, the gatebridge.
Gatebridges were bridges built within the fae to travel great distances within minutes. They had placed markers at strategic places along major highways and cities.
When the White Council descended in wrath to wipe them out, war mages deliberately destroyed the gates since they themselves could not use them.
She had been trying to find a way to travel faster, to rid herself of her pursuers when she found herself in Tarkon, friends of Dragonblood. There had to be at least a few outposts left she could flee to, perhaps an off-world home. But would they accept her? They would know her almost immediately on her arrival and every weapon would be pointed at her.
But she had to try. She was out of options.
In Windsail City, she sought employment that could generate more than just a measly salary that only covered room and board.
Orvin was the owner of a local blacksmith’s shop. He was known as one of the top skilled smiths around with a reputation of entertaining several Lords from the capitol.
It was perfect. She knew all about metal making as it was part of her training among other things growing up.
After convincing Orvin to test her out, Alicia made a show at crafting the sword she carried now. When the last fires and hammer touched the blade, she carefully inscribed in Latra, a prayer of blessing in the middle.
On examination of her work, Orvin’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. He immediately drilled her on who she taught under but never got a good answer. In an ecstatic voice, he said, “You’re hired!”
For four months, she worked under Orvin, showing just how advanced her skills were. In her own time, she kept up the habit drilled into her. Her sword was what made her. With deadly precision, she went through the steps of the Sword Dance, a specific style of fighting that was as deadly to the opponent as well as the one swinging. Execution of the moves was everything. In the gleam of evening light, her hardened muscles showed the years of using the sword as a primary weapon. There were other weapons one could use but a sword was special. With the right techniques, the right tuning of an artifact and a mage suit to harness it all, a sword could become one of the most powerful weapons in the world.
Tech mages were everywhere, finding new ways to harness the magical energy of the world in containers. Engineering powerful suits to accommodate the level of energy without it exploding, one could walk into battle limited only by the power of an artifact. Mage wars of the past were exceedingly bloody. It had destroyed civilizations within minutes. And for centuries, the Ancients had banned such technology from ever being understood again.
But humans were sneaky, inventive people. And once again, a way around this ban was found, probably for the worse as magic was a source humans shouldn’t ever get their hands on.
But Alicia knew many secrets and techniques that now aided her employment.
At first, Orvin didn't know what to think of her. She was a woman and for that matter, one who spoke little.
“Don't blame me,” Alicia thought coldly, thinking back on those first days with the man. She paused in her running and glanced side to side at the dark intersecting chambers. She listened to the sounds of dripping water, and felt the briefest of air movement. She went still and focused on nothing else.
No foot steps.
The wind was clean of staleness.
And the trickling water seemed to be moving in one direction.
She was on the right path.
At least she hoped so.
Turning to the left, she followed the steady stream of water on the floor.
Her thoughts returned with an unfavorable feeling in her stomach. Anger burned inside.
She could stop now, make a stand and kill those pursuing her! And she would enjoy cutting them apart as they screamed! Men made her this way. She wasn't about to apologize for how she thought.
She didn't fool herself into thinking she could live without employment though. Money didn’t magically appear and when you’re on the run for long periods of time, it eventually dries up. That meant she had to hide her true feelings and pretend to be civil. She thought to become a mercenary but she'd have to force herself not to use her full potential. The world was quickly changing and the likes of her were being looked on unfavorably. Little did they truly know what her life really consisted of. If they only knew the terror her family's namesake invoked, the horrors she had walked through and had been part of.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and focused on running again. All the signs pointed here. She just had to find it.
When on occasion, the blacksmith shop had visitors from the noble class, Orvin would tell them Alicia was his apprentice. In truth, there were a few things she knew that he didn't. When armor and shields weren't in high demand and tech gadgets weren’t needed, he'd instruct her on the finer art of metal work, that is, in making necklaces, earrings, or any number of assorted things men and women found to their fancy. It was a strange partnership. She didn't complain and under his employment, she regained what she had lost in her last run. It was a good life all considering.
How they found her, she didn’t quite understand.
Orvin had come to the shop after a day’s worth of selling some trinket wares they had made earlier.
Bursting through the door, his face looked haggard. In his hands, he carried a bag of the more costly items that didn’t sell. Fear was written across his face as he looked at her.
Alicia dropped the hammer in hand. She had been working on another exquisite sword for one of the Lords. It clanged hard against the anvil. Her heart skipped several beats at seeing Orvin's expression. Thoughts swirled in her head with rapid succession.
Orvin dropped the bag onto a nearby counter and ran to a side closet. Dragging out a small bag, he turned to her and let it drop onto the anvil.
She stood frozen, eyes darting towards the door.
"Take it!" he said briskly. "Don't ask why! Your horse is saddled and fed. The Tarkon patrol is heading here to take you in. There's a heavy bounty on your head the likes I've never seen before! You have to leave the country."
She blinked back dumb struck, at the bag then at the man. "Why? Why are you helping me?"
Orvin gave a grim smile. "The world is a mysterious place. Its inhabitants are even more mysterious, filled with secrets and spies." He nodded to the back door. "You are a good person and I won’t be bargained with blood money. Now go. I provided you with enough coins to reach the border of Terrill. If you're lucky, you can escape into Savale and petition its King for amnesty. Nobody will venture into that mystical land out of fear of its powerful magic." He looked hard at her. "I suspect you wouldn't be afraid of such things."
Alicia blinked again in shock. Did Orvin know who she truly was?
She wasn't given a chance to ask. He pushed her towards the door even as distant shouts were heard over the city market.
On hearing the muffled shouts, she grabbed her sword leaning against the door frame, and darted out the back door. She glanced back at the old blacksmith mouthing the word, "Thank you."
He just smiled with a chuckle.
She hadn't been idle in her free time. A part of her knew that wherever she wound up, she would be found eventually. She wondered if there was a tracking spell on her. She would have felt that though. She pondered this a while.
When the pace of the shop slowed down, she ventured outside to the enormous city of Windsail and her many quarters that jutted upwards and out. It was situated on top of a large hill overlooking Silver Lake.
She had been to Legend Island’s ancient libraries in the past and poured over several maps, hoping to find what she was looking for. She knew something sinister was afoot when what had been recorded for centuries was suddenly turning up missing. Large portions of documents detailing historical sites and annals of kingdoms were slowly being replaced with other books, more recently written that didn’t match the former narrative.
She didn’t have the proof but had a suspicion about who was behind it. Being most people didn’t read, it was easy to do. Only a select few people would care about what was happening. Raising an alarm over it wouldn’t gain much attention either.
All this had to be put to the side though. Her wanderings and searching had led her to two really old maps, lost almost to the memory of a past age.
This led her to travel to Windsail City.
The caverns underneath were rumored to hold old relics along with runes of a strange language on the walls. She knew or more like felt what the city had been. Forgotten by everyone living today, there was a pulsing of living magic beneath the foundation of the city. This indicated it was one of the many ancient seats of power the natives of the world at one time held a council. It was also where the old maps stated a crossroads was located.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
She ran on, feeling her legs burn with every step now. She had traveled deeper and deeper into the belly of the mammoth cave. To the right, a large chamber opened to cascading falls gushing into underground river passages leading away from Silver Lake. She had to be below the lake bed by now as Windsail City was on the lake's edge.
With water dripping everywhere and soaking her, she rounded a corner before without warning, the path dropped into a steep decline. She gripped the rock walls feeling the slickness against her fingers and her feet slid from underneath. She tried to grab hold of her sword strapped in a sheath but couldn’t quite grab it. She slid down the steep slope faster and faster.
To the left between large gaps in the chamber walls, soft light from somewhere above illuminated waterfalls spilling down. Further out, an island appeared in the dark waters below.
The slope turned slightly and a second later, ended.
Alicia gasped, eyes going wide. She gave a soft cry and slid over the edge, plummeting in air for several seconds.
She plunged into ice-cold water and for several more seconds, struggled to hold her breath from the sudden shock.
Pressure from the hammering force of the falls pushed her even deeper.
Kicking hard, she threw off the bag she was carrying. She refused to let go of the sword but the more she struggled, the deeper she sank.
With lungs beginning to burn, she reached for the sword behind her and thrust it aside. She watched in pain as it disappeared from view.
Kicking again with powerful strokes, she began ascending.
Alicia crested the water's edge, taking deep gasping breaths. Her lungs burned fiercly and the bitter cold of the water sent her into shivering spasms.
To one side, not far away, a stone bridge wound its way across the lake to the island she spotted when sliding.
Kicking her feet, she forced herself to swim again. She groaned at each stroke she made till finally, fingers touched hard stone.
Slowly, she pushed herself up with laboring breaths and rolled onto her back. Again, she took in several gasping breaths, freezing.
“Get up!” She moaned through clenched teeth. “You can’t stop now!” The bitter cold water stuck to her like a blanket.
Groaning, she turned over and lifted herself to her knees before slowly standing.
The island was in the center of a very large lake with the cavern itself extending out of view of the flickering light above. A large bridge of carved stones jutted out of the water nearby. The island itself was just one massive flat rock the bridge anchored to as it extended on across the water to another rock island.
Looking towards the other island, Alicia’s heart thumped loud.
From the second island, a tall pillar extended into the air probably a good twenty feet. She knew instantly what it was.
Forcing the cold to the back of her mind, she pressed on. She was almost there.
Fatigue set in fast but it wasn’t about to stop her. She was almost to her goal!
An entire day’s run had led her to this place. Those following her had been just one step behind, close enough she knew she couldn’t stop for anything.
Now, her destination was in front of her.
Crossing the stone bridge, she stepped onto the island with the pillar.
All around, the lake water lapped at the edge, not even a foot below the surface. At the center, a granite pillar stood tall coming to a point at the top.
On the front, facing her...
Alicia’s eyes lit up and she laughed in exhausted relief. She ran the last bit to the pillar surface and knelt in front of it, tracing the rune sketches on the pillar surface. The runes themselves formed a border around the carving of a hand.
Suddenly, shouts rang out in the distance.
Swearing, she snapped her head up for a second, scanning the bridge behind her.
Five men in uniform ran the length of the bridge, reaching the first island.
Heart racing, she turned her attention to the runes, thinking hard.
Placing her hands on the engraved hand, she concentrated, letting herself fill with energy.
Seconds passed and her ears picked up the loud stomping of feet.
They were on the island! Only a few seconds remained!
The runes burst with a blue hue as energy poured out with a low hum.
"Don't let her escape!" a gruff male voice shouted. “Kill her!”
The ring of steel and smell of sulfer charged the air. The hum of a charge gun was heard.
In the same instant, a gust of wind washed over the lake with a bluish mist circling about the pillar with white light.
The first of many hands reached Alicia’s arms and she screamed defiantly, violently shaking them off.
The swirling mist formed about her and everything vanished.
Within seconds, the wind in the cavern died and all was silent again.
* * *
Daren Cole grabbed the lever in front of him and pulled hard.
The sound of gears grinding against each other echoed in the large and spacious building. A hammer swung down with an enormous boom, flattening the metal sheet he stood next to.
In the air, the metallic smell mixed with oil was everywhere.
He was one of the lucky ones. He was spotted early on in life from the underbelly of New Muskegon. With the majority of factories on the ground level near Muskegon Lake, hiring a local nearby seemed obvious. But that was where things got messy.
The class system that governed everything these days made a distinction between people. There were those who were born into their stations in life and then there were those left for dead, the lower class.
When the governing heads repurposed themselves in the Elemental Age, they didn’t bother to work out the problems the system created. Power was everything and in this new age, there were too many people. It weeded out those favored and those who simply had no worth.
Born with a knack for figuring things out mechanically, he had been taken to one of the many factories lining Lake Muskegon at an early age and put to work. Of course, this didn’t give him the right to climb the stairs lining the factories to the floating city above. He was still a lower-class citizen. He always would be. Nothing could change that fact.
Grabbing the large grinding handle nearby, he heard the compression of air through the attached tubes. The system of air hoses wound its way back to a giant steam-powered machine in the middle of the factory floor. A furnace burned day and night as gears ground away from every part of the building.
Reaching for a rag, he wiped dripping sweat from his forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from the hall a few feet away where the raw material was melted on forges that burned day and night.
To the left, the click-clack of metal wheels on rails echoed. Rounding a bend in the hall, a man in overalls and a hard hat operated the gears of a rail cart. He was clean-shaven with curly light brown hair and wore a crooked smile as he approached.
Daren shook his head, trying not to smile.
He and Jon went back some years as co-workers. They both started work in Division A of Aero Transport Corporation around the same time. They hit it off quickly and soon traded stories and experiences, helping each other advance in the company.
As the cart drew closer, something struck him as odd. Where the back of the cart was supposed to be flat with a small motor chamber, it held an upper compartment for a hefty cooling fan.
When the cart was near enough, Jon called out, "Back to your old job again, Daren?" He laughed. "You must like the blood and sweat a lot more than me."
"If management actually hires some people who cared about quality, I wouldn't have to break my back rushing to get these finished." He spit to the side as his nose got a whiff of smoke from the foundry hall.
Jon laughed again. "Well, hurry it up! I heard from Stickler that we got another order from New Chicago. By the looks of things, they're building a new prototype, this one faster than anything we've seen before." He chuckled. "Imagine that."
As if on instinct, both Daren and Jon looked over their shoulders to a giant clock on the wall. A blaring sound escaped a nearby horn.
"Perfect timing." Jon grinned and offered a hand.
Daren dropped the grinder and brushed the metal fragments off himself. With a single leap, he stepped onto the first rail and with the offered hand, pulled himself onto the cart bed. He leaned over and grabbed one of the railings lining the side of the transport cart. Glancing at the large cooling fan, he turned his attention back to Jon questioningly.
Jon’s face lit up with a mischievous smile. “I was working on a pet project of my own. I wanted to see how well it worked today.” He pointed to the motor compartment.
Daren leaned over and unlatched the small hatch and glanced inside.
His insides flip-flopped in shock. He spun on Jon with a half glare, half hesitant smile. He couldn’t bring himself to decide how he felt. “You rigged the dang thing! Where’s the fuel mixer!"
Everybody who knew a thing or two about elemental power was that sinvin couldn’t be used by itself but with a mixture of half and half with components that dampened its level of potency. It was still a fairly new invention, sinvin powered transporters.
Jon had bypassed the steaming tubes altogether so that the potent liquid, a byproduct of the strange sinvin crystals, could work as steam did. The risky part was that the liquid was volatile. It had the potential to explode when on its own. However, it did create a much quicker force of energy. It didn't evaporate like water did and lasted much longer. That is, if the flat cart and those stupid enough to be on it, survived.
He sighed heavily and slid onto the hard bed.
Jon controlled the levers with precision and soon, the cart was whisking through the factory faster than it should have.
The wind produced by the cart's speed flowed through Daren’s hair and he soaked it up with deep breaths. He stood in a burning hot factory each day and despite the easy task it would be to build a few redirecting pipes from the water generator to cool off the place, nothing was done. Nobody ever listened to his suggestions. He was a lower-class person without the power to suggest something. To do so would get a harsh reminder of his station and the very real divide between social classes.
The cart clicked its way across several factory departments till it wound its way into the Assembly Building. The building was a vast dark domed structure suspending mostly finished airships in the air smelling of a mixture between sweetness, strong oil, and leather.
Daren gripped the side rail with white knuckles. He could feel the wheels slip and slide over the tracks and his heart pounded loudly. He sat frozen, unsure of what to do.
All the while, Jon held a superior, death-defying grin on his face. He was immensely proud of his achievement and laughed.
Crossing under several half-finished ships, Daren picked out the two that were almost ready for shipping. He would have to inspect those tomorrow. The large oval tubes at the back would be the propulsion tubes that sinvin would expel its strange energy. Not many scientists understood how the energy worked but it kept the ships afloat. When the oil heated from the compressed stream, it supercharged the inside of the crystal casing creating an enormous outward reaction. The energy was intense as it could move some of the heaviest crafts around effortlessly. If compared to the last age, one scientist found it could harness enough energy to wipe out several cities with just a few supercharged drops.
And I am riding on top of more than a few drops, Daren thought. He shook his head at the stupidity of the whole thing. How did Jon always manage to get him involved?
The clock-out station was a long cement walkway on one side of the rails. A large closed door led to the many office rooms of management personnel with a large box fastened to the nearby wall with time stamp cards.
"Help me here." Jon leaped up and grabbed the brake lever.
Daren got to his feet, steadying himself, and made his way to where Jon held a hand on a long lever to one side of the cart.
Together, they pulled hard, grunting with the strain of the speed they contended with. The lever beneath his gloves shook violently as the smell of rubber pads burned into his nostrils.
Sparks flew out from underneath with a high-pitched squeal.
He braced himself hard from the force but began to slide.
Ten feet from the landing area, the cart ground to a violent halt and he lost his footing. He swung hard across the cart, barely able to hold onto a railing. Falling to his knees, he looked up.
Jon howled with laughter and ran to him. His eyes were wide with excitement.
Patting him hard on the back, Jon exclaimed, "Now that's a great way to end the day!"
Daren bowed his head, trying to cover the panic welling up. It was exciting. He had to give Jon that. Would he do it again? Not in a million years!
Getting his bearings again, Daren leaped off the death machine and made his way to the landing pad where a line of co-workers was already waiting to leave.
"Uh oh," someone in front of him whispered. He jerked his head to the left in the direction of the supervisor's office.
It was a Friday so most of the management personnel had the day off. He knew Scott did and he was all that mattered.
"Oh, crap!" Jon began swearing and ducked behind Emily, one of the assembly workers Daren had gotten to know. She was kind to him, but like most women, she seldom tried to get to know him or anyone else. The outside world was harsh, but especially on women. If she knew how to work the machines and get her hands dirty, that was a good start but didn't guarantee anything. The laws were more guidelines these days and enforcement was only for when you broke government rules. Society’s lower class was on its own.
From one end of the long platform, the supervisor stood. If steam could pour out of his nostrils, it would. Instead, smoke from a cigar floated around his head. He hacked several times and paused to clear his throat.
"I told him those things were bad for him." Daren whispered with a shrug."
"Why did you do that for?" Jon whispered harshly behind Emily. "The sooner he's croaked, the better off we'll be."
Scott's bulky body marched towards the landing with a glare, smoke puffing through his nose like a mad dragon.
Daren hung his head. He knew better than to let Jon drag him into his foolish adventures.
Emily turned and grabbed her clock card and stamped it. She turned slightly at the nearby door and whispered, "Good luck, Daren."
Scott was now in shouting distance.
Jon hurriedly grabbed his card and stamped it next. He raced to the door just as Scott's low bellowing voice boomed, "Stop!"
But Jon was already out the door, running.
Daren picked up his time card and hesitated. He knew mother would disapprove of his behavior today. His father would be lecturing him on responsibility.
The world had let that idea go to hell. Nobody was responsible for anything now, not unless you were some high-up boss. Then you had guards do that work for you. Supervisors were for the most part enforcers of the higher-ups. And more than not, that meant fists did the talking more than words.
With anger building, Daren swiped the card.
"Daren!" Scott's voice yelled. "If you step foot outside that door, don't bother coming back!"
Daren closed his eyes tight and clenched his fists. Taking a long deep breath, he turned to face the bulky figure.
The smell of cigar smoke filled the air about him. Seconds later, gruff fists smashed into his stomach.
Groaning loudly, he fell to one knee, gasping for breath.
With massive paws for hands, Scott drew Daren up to stare into glaring bloodshot eyes.
"What did I tell you about hanging with that piece of filth!" he yelled. "I should have broken Jon's hands the last time I caught him messing around in the engineering department!" He paused and for a brief second, collected his thoughts. "I dragged you onboard my team because I thought you were better than everyone else. Now, look at you! Riding a blasted rigged explosive! In my shop!" Letting go with one hand, it swung again and hit a nearby pole. He hardly flinched. Instead, he sighed and turned away with a shake of his head. "Get out of here." He paused, glared profusely, and added, “Don’t bother coming in tomorrow. You’re fired!”
Daren felt something inside tear. He had let his parents down. He was supposed to be the smart one, one of the few who would go places in life.
Shaking his head, he clocked out and walked out the door.
The stench of oil and rotting fish assailed his nostrils, but that was the normal everyday smell. With metal beams above, the sun hardly showed its face here. Since the invention of sky cities to combat the strange new dangers of the world, the underbelly of sky cities filled with the lower class that eventually turned cutthroats, dangerous thieves, and gang members.
Walking to a half-dilapidated bench, he sat down with a thump and buried his head in his hands.
Excitement and adventure had betrayed him again. Would it always be like this? He felt restless inside like a burning itch had to be scratched. It was this burning fuel that screamed to be released. But at every opportunity for that release, something went wrong every time.
And now?
Now, he was in real danger. He was back in the world of those who would as soon cut you for no other reason than to steal your clothes.
The hum of engine fans and the movement of the many sections of New Muskegon drowned out everything for a moment. Long shadows moved across the lifeless vegetation on the ground.
In a whisper, Daren asked nobody in particular, “What do I do now?” He sighed heavily and looked towards one of the large staircases encased in clear walls with posted guards at their stations. He looked up at the moving city above and wondered. He had been up there once or twice before on a dare. Maybe he could do it again, but this time, stay there. He had heard rumors of those who had done just that and had made a good living, erasing their past lives for a new one. It was a whole different world up top with very different people.
What was there to lose now?
Getting to his feet, he made his way down the cracks and weeds of an ancient road. He would head home, gather what little possessions he had, and come back later. He would attempt to change his life for good this time around.