Void Wyrm: The Magitech Chronicles Book 2 Read online

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Nara asked quietly. She stood a few paces away, nervously fingering the cuff of her parade jacket.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little…” Bord trailed off, his smile wilting as Kezia glared up at him. “What I mean to say is, you’ll be fine, Nara. You, too, Aran. I’m not calling you sir neither, not until we’re reassigned.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question. Kez, what’s going to happen to us?” Aran asked the pretty drifter.

  Her normal smile was absent. “They’ll assign you and Nara as apprentices for training. You’ll end up at the war college, and she’ll go to the university.” Kezia looked up, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “The rest of us will be given leave until they figure out what to do with us. Good thing, too, because I need a break. If the major is cleared, we might be given back to her. More likely, we’ll be here for months. Or even longer. The Confederacy doesn’t outfit a ship too often. They might even choose to discharge us, though that’s rare. I have a cousin that was furloughed for two full years before they called her back up.”

  Aran had nothing good to say to that, so he said nothing. They were being broken up, and he didn’t see a way around it. Depths, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to see a way around it. This war college might be able to teach him more about his abilities, which took him one step closer to unlocking his identity.

  “Heads up,” Crewes called.

  Aran followed his gaze and saw a tall woman approaching with incredible grace, her hand resting on the hilt of a slender spellblade. She wore a version of the Confederate uniform, but instead of the jacket the major and other officers wore, she had a simple form-fitting top with a unit patch on the shoulder. Her flowing pants ended just above a simple pair of…sandals? She wasn’t even wearing boots.

  She walked toward them with deliberate purpose, and her gaze locked on Aran as she crossed the ramp connecting the Wyrm Hunter to the starport. The tall woman stopped several meters away and adopted a comfortable resting stance. There was something familiar about that stance, but the place where the memory should have been was as hazy as ever.

  “I’m looking for Lieutenant Aran?” she called in a clear, pretty voice.

  Every part of her was perfect, from those piercing eyes to her shapely legs. Aran recognized the hallmark of the Shayans, though unlike the other Shayans he’d met, this woman had bright red hair. It fell to the small of her back, but had been tied with several leather cords into a thick ponytail.

  He should be attracted to her, and he was, intellectually at least. But he’d already seen enough of the Confederate command structure to be highly suspicious of anyone they sent. Best to keep his guard up.

  “That’s me.” Aran crossed the distance between them. He rested his hand on his spellblade, mirroring her stance.

  “I’ve received orders from a Colonel Nimitz to bring you to the war college for assessment.” Her expression soured as she sized him up. “Though I’m not sure why they think a mongrel like you is worth the trouble. Is that a pikey? Does she do your laundry?” She gave a derisive laugh as she nodded toward Kez.

  Oh yeah, this lady was a real treat.

  He folded his arms and forced an even tone. “That “pikey” stopped the Krox at Marid. Do you have a copy of these orders? You’ll forgive me if I don’t blindly follow every stuck up Shayan who approaches me in a starport. ”

  “It’s legit, sir. You can tell by the unit patch on her shoulder. She comes from the war college.” Crewes shook his head. “She pretty much owns you until we get re-assigned. She’s gonna take you back to the college for an assessment, most likely.”

  “Do you have a name?” Aran demanded, eyes still locked with the redheaded war mage.

  “You will address me as Premaster Reekala, and you will only do it when I have asked you a question.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that clear, mongrel?”

  Aran had already been through Tech Mage boot camp. He damned well wasn’t going to go through it again with this war college.

  “Are you an officer in the Confederate military?” he asked mildly.

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t give me orders.” Aran kept his tone nonchalant, but her expression soured further. “I’m not trying to be an ass, but I want you to understand where I’m coming from. I’ve watched friends die, seen innocent civilians slaughtered. I’ll be damned if I put up with any more abuse from officers trying to break me. You want to take a swing at me? Expect me to swing back.”

  “If you swing,” Nara snapped, “Aran won’t be the only one swinging back.” She stepped up to stand next to him, glaring up at Ree. “Your people have no idea what it’s like out there. Show a little respect. Aran is a hero.”

  Ree gave a musical laugh, though there was a cruel, brittle edge to it. “You must be the pirate girl I’ve heard so much about. Is it true you can’t even cast a spell without a spellpistol? I thought you were a true mage.”

  Nara colored. Aran frowned. Ree calling him mongrel didn’t bother him. Her insulting Kez and Nara did.

  Ree smiled magnanimously, clearly pleased by Nara’s discomfort. “I’m not inhuman. I’ll give you time to talk with your mongrel friends and your pet pikey. But be swift. I need to make sure you’re housebroken before I introduce you to Master Erika.”

  Kezia’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and even Bord balled his fist. He stepped protectively in front of Kezia. “You wanna watch where you throw those insults. Kezia’s worth three of you. Probably more.”

  “Be a real shame if you accidentally fell off Shaya. It’s a long way down,” Kezia snapped, stepping around Bord. “What do you say, Lieutenant? Why don’t we joost toss her body over the side? We can pretend we never met her. No one will miss her. I bet loads of people would thank us.”

  Ree’s smile vanished and her hand tightened dangerously around the hilt of her sword. Aran didn’t recognize the stance her feet slid into, but he knew an offensive bearing when he saw it. She was getting ready to attack.

  “Think of the paperwork, Kez.” He interposed himself between Ree and Kezia, offering Kez an apologetic smile. She gave a tight nod and backed down. Bord led Kezia a few meters away and the two spoke in low tones. Aran turned back to Ree. “You said I could have a minute.”

  Ree nodded stiffly, and walked back across the narrow wooden bridge leading back the way she’d come. She stopped at the far side, inspecting her nails.

  Aran turned back to the company. “I wish we had more time.”

  He offered a hand to Kezia, since she was closest. Instead the drifter surged forward and seized his leg in a fierce hug. Bord accepted the handshake, and Nara gave him a weak smile. Crewes snapped to attention, of course, giving Aran a crisp salute.

  “Good luck, sir. Now you lot get off him. The LT has work to be about,” Crewes barked in his best parade voice.

  Kezia released him, and moved to stand with Bord. Aran took a deep breath and gave Nara what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She returned it, but he could see the fear in her eyes—a fear he definitely mirrored.

  He turned and followed Ree. She reeked of violence as she stalked back into the starport sprawled across the massive redwood limb where the city lay. They mounted a set of stairs up to a transport platform, this one much smaller than the area where the Hunter had been parked.

  “Is that yours?” Aran asked. He gave a low whistle as he approached the sleek, wedge-shaped fighter parked near the center of the platform, golden hull gleaming in the sunlight. She might be arrogant and racist, but damned if she didn’t have style.

  “Don’t touch anything, mongrel,” Ree snapped. She moved to the side of the cockpit and sketched a single pink sigil. Dream, Aran realized. A set of shimmering blue steps appeared one after another, snaking down from the cockpit to the deck.

  The way she’d sketched the sigil was nearly identical to what he did with his spellarmor. He wondered idly why that was necessary. It seemed like true magic, if what people like
the major did were any indication.

  The canopy rose, and by the time Ree had trotted up the stairs she was able to duck inside. Aran followed, but took a moment to appreciate the fighter once he’d reached the cockpit. The inside was spacious, allowing pilots to stand. It had a pair of command matrices, but, unlike those in the Hunter, these had a comfortable couch for the pilot to sit in.

  Ree had already moved to the pilot’s matrix, and began tapping sigils. The canopy started to lower, so Aran hopped inside and moved to the co-pilot’s matrix. He buckled himself in as the fighter rose smoothly into the air, flowing in a way that sang to Aran. He belonged in a fighter.

  They zipped away from the starport, quickly gaining altitude. Aran appreciated his first view of Shaya, which was unlike any world he’d ever been on. The small moon orbited a large blue world, and beyond that hovered a massive yellow sun.

  The moon itself was largely barren and empty, except for a single continent. A titanic redwood tree stretched into the sky above them, its branches providing shade for more cities like this one, and some far larger. Magical power pulsed from the tree, a low, subsonic hum that relaxed Aran.

  That energy extended outward in a glittering dome covering thousands of kilometers; inside the dome, the moon had been completely transformed into a lush paradise. There was no rock to be seen, only a forest of redwood trees and an undergrowth of ferns and short bay trees.

  “You’re gawking like a simpleton. Have you never seen a Catalyst before?” Ree’s tone was all smug superiority. She plunged ahead without waiting for an answer. “I don’t know why a mind-wiped mongrel is to be granted entry to the college, but I follow orders. Master Erika wants you tested. If you perform admirably, she may even order me to take you on officially as an apprentice. I’m not sure I can think of a worse fate than tutoring simpletons.”

  Aran swiveled the command matrix’s chair around to face her. “Training under you sounds like loads of fun, but I think I’m going to pass.”

  “If you’re assigned to me you, you’ll do what you’re told, mongrel. Your only other choice would be to run,” Ree snorted. She guided the fighter into a steep climb. “And that, I’d like to see—and I mean that. Try to run, because it will be me they send after you. And I would like nothing better than to hunt you down.”

  4

  OUTRIDER

  Ree’s fighter glided to a stop atop a landing pad built over the forest floor that had accumulated on Shaya’s titanic limb. Now that they were closer, Aran realized these people had erected cities on every available branch, most of which were a kilometer or more wide and several kilometers long. Unlike the smaller, haphazard structures clustered around the base of the tree, the ones on this branch were manor houses, skyscrapers, and what Aran guessed must be the war college itself.

  “This is the second burl,” Ree said, “where a number of kamiza are housed. Mongrels like you aren’t normally allowed this high up.”

  “Kamiza?” Aran asked. He hated how little he knew, and how much power it gave people like Ree over his life.

  “It’s an ancient Shayan word. The closest translation might be important school. It’s where we all train.” She unbuckled herself and climbed the ladder as the canopy swung silently upward. Aran followed her through a wide doorway into a slanted building styled to look like part of the tree. Inside, a dozen students paired off against each other, each armed with a slender spellblade identical to Ree’s.

  “Take off your shoes,” she whispered. Ree kicked off her sandals, and he suddenly understood why she wore them. If you trained barefoot, then they were far more practical than boots. But what did you do in the field? Fight barefoot? That was ludicrous.

  He knelt and began unlacing his boots, conscious of Ree tapping her foot impatiently. He set his boots next to her sandals then rose back to his feet.

  The teacher guiding the class reminded Aran a bit of the major. She had the same chestnut hair, though her features were more worn. The weight of their gazes, though—that was identical. The woman looked at Aran and he felt the same desire to straighten his posture that he did when Voria eyed him.

  Ree cleared her throat. “Master Erika, I’ve brought the student the Confederacy asked us to evaluate.” Ree gave the teacher a deep bow, then moved to the far side of the kamiza. She stood on a training mat, watching Aran with amusement. “Would you like me to test him?”

  “Resting position.” Erika barked. Her students instantly stopped their sparring, bowed to each other, and sank into a lotus position wherever they happened to have been standing. Erika clasped her hands behind her back and walked to the mat, near Ree. “Does the student have a name?”

  “The student can speak for himself,” he called confidently, interrupting Erika. She seemed amused, and gestured at him to continue. “My name is Aran. I’m a lieutenant in the Confederate military. We’ve just returned from Marid, where we defeated the Krox.”

  There were a few whispers at that, but most of the students didn’t react when he mentioned the Krox. Aran licked his lips. How did he want to start off his stay here? The way he behaved would set the tone for his entire relationship with these people.

  Shayans looked down on the Confederacy, and on the drifters. He already knew that much. If he wanted their respect, he’d have to earn it, and in a very visible way.

  “If you want to test me, fine. I’m happy to wipe that smug look off her face.” Aran nodded toward Ree. Maybe he’d get the chance to pay her back for the way she’d treated Nara and Kez.

  “Really?” Erika raised an eyebrow. Her tone was mild, and perhaps a touch amused. “Very well, then.” Her tone went sarcastic. “You’re clearly a skilled warrior. If Ree’s smug face is bothering you, then do something about it.”

  Aran studied Erika suspiciously, but the offer seemed genuine. Ree’s expression had gone hard, and no longer betrayed any emotion. She was ready for a fight. So the war college’s entry test started with a duel, then. Finally, something he could get behind.

  “We’re fighting with live blades?” Aran eased his spellblade from its scabbard. The weapon thrummed in his grip, but the rhythm had deepened. Whatever energies the blade had absorbed back on Marid had changed it, though Aran didn’t yet understand how. “Probably should have figured that part out before getting myself into a fight,” he muttered.

  “Of course we’re using live blades. I am a life mage. If one of you is injured, I will tend to it.” Erika walked off the mat, and turned to face her students. “Watch closely, class. I believe an unexpected lesson is about to be administered.”

  “Count on that.” Ree gave Aran a wicked grin. “Consider this the first of many lessons, mongrel.”

  “You keep calling me that.” Aran prowled toward her, adopting an offensive stance. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it felt right. “How about—”

  Ree’s right hand shot forward and launched a blazing orb at his face. Aran hopped backward, but the orb exploded in a blinding flash. He blinked away spots as he desperately sought Ree. He knew she’d be on him instantly. He needed to move.

  Aran vaulted into the air and used a trickle of air magic to increase the height of the jump. Ree’s blade hummed through the space underneath him, millimeters away. Aran landed in a crouch several meters away, blinking rapidly as he faced the direction the blow had come from.

  Ree sprinted toward him, and the tip of her sword began to glow with golden energy. Aran considered his reaction for a fraction of a second, then reached for the water magic within him. Marid’s touch was still new—cooler and harder than air, and much more elemental than void.

  He extended a hand, and a jet of ice coated the floor. Ree vaulted it, and Aran smiled as he tracked her trajectory. He channeled a mixture of air and void, and his blade crackled with purple lightning. Now that she was airborne, her trajectory was predictable.

  Aran darted forward and brought his blade up in a whirling strike. The blade whistled through the air, slashing through both of Ree�
�s legs.

  Only…the blade met no resistance.

  The blow continued onward, pulling Aran off balance. A blade punched into his kidney from behind and burst out of his gut to expose a blood-soaked tip. The pain took him back to Marid, and Aran roared. The screams of the dying echoed through his mind; for just a moment he was back in the battle. Rage flashed through him—the desperate need to survive at any cost.

  Aran’s elbow shot back, and Ree’s nose broke with a loud crack. He rolled forward and her sword pulled free from his back with a nauseating pop. He whipped his hand at his opponent, seizing both ankles with tendrils of air. He yanked her off her feet, and she barely retained a grip on her weapon as he dragged her closer.

  He summoned more void lightning, plunging his eager spellblade through Ree’s shoulder and into the training mat. The violet lightning flowed into her, and Aran knew the agony must have been immense.

  But Ree never broke eye contact, and her only concession to the pain was a grunt. She whipped both legs up and kicked him hard in the chest, flinging him backward. Aran rolled with the blow, coming to his feet several meters away. Ree rose with a graceful flip, landing on her feet and beginning to circle. She raised a hand to her bloody shoulder, grimacing as golden light flowed into the wound.

  “You can heal, too,” he whispered in indignant awe. Talk about an unfair advantage. Any blow that didn’t kill you could simply be removed as if it had never been.

  “End this,” Erika barked, though it was unclear which of them the words were intended for.

  Aran glided forward, slashing wildly at Ree. She easily parried the blow, but he was already flowing into the next. He balled his free hand into a fist, aiming for her jaw. As it approached he drew on water and a heavy sheath of ice grew around his fist. It shattered Ree’s still broken nose, knocking her to the ground.

  He seized the hilt of her spellblade with his air tendrils, yanked the weapon from her grasp, and extended his sword until the tip touched her throat. “Lady, I might not remember much. I might be a mongrel. But I am also a depths-damned Marine. You want to look down your nose at me? Fine. Do it with respect.”