Skybuilders (Sorcery and Science Book 4) (12 page)

She felt a jolt of electrical energy zap her leg, and she kicked the machine hard with her water-logged boot. The cracks and sizzles behind Ariella told her that the other machines were powering up to electrocute her. She might not have been an expert in electricity, but she knew enough to conclude that she should get out of the water pronto.

She waited until the two closest machines were beside her feet, then braced her heels against their heads and kicked out. Using them for leverage, she was able to launch herself forward and out of the water just high enough to grab the cusp of the ledge with her fingertips. As the machines below buzzed about with irritated clicks and scrapes, Ariella dragged herself onto the ledge. Her stomach pressed against rock, she peered down at them.

Tiny sparks twinkled in and out against the water, reminding her of the lights she’d seen strung along Orion’s Imperial Lane at many festive occasions. The bursts grew longer and the lights brighter. Within seconds, electrical beams streamed from machine to machine, connecting them all like strands of a spider’s web. The water sizzled and spit around a sea of bubbles.

As sparks started to shoot up like tiny fireworks, Ariella scrambled to her feet and pressed her back against the cliff wall. She covered her nose, trying to block out the stench of boiling metal. It didn’t work. Well, at least she wasn’t still in the water.

“Need a hand?” a voice asked from above, making her jump.

“You know, Silas,” she said, rising to her tiptoes to reach his extended hand. “It’s not nice to sneak up on people who’ve just barely escaped being boiled alive by a squad of mechanical menaces.”

Their fingers connected, and he pulled her up with a single hand, as though she weighed no more than a doll. Ariella’s boots hit hard rock, squelching as she landed.

“Should I not have come down for you then?” he asked.

Ariella slid off a boot, pouring out enough water to fill a fish tank. She repeated with the second boot. “I didn’t say that. A little warning would have been nice is all. The way you sneak about, you could give an assassin a run for his money. Or just give him a heart attack.”

He scowled.
Aurelia’s daughters, what was it now?
She tipped her head, inviting him to speak.

“I don’t sneak,” he grumbled.

Ariella nodded, the smile wide on her face.

“I’m big and impervious.”

“The biggest.”

“Meant to be noticed,” he continued. “I stand out.”

“Like a stone fortress.”

“Like a bodyguard,” he said, his eyes pulsing with pride.

Ariella held up a finger. “Ok, I’ve got it. We’ll just put a bell around your neck.”

Silas’s eyes glowed white. “You aren’t taking this seriously, Ariella.”

A snort escaped before she could check it, followed by a parade of chuckles. She managed to contain herself long enough to say, “No, I am not, I’m afraid.”

“Then start.”

“Sorry.” She sighed and patted his arm. “I suppose the sneaking is not your fault. Your kind are called Phantoms after all.”

Before Silas could respond, the crack of exploding rock shot down from above, followed by gunfire.

“Why don’t you come down where I can get to you, you flying heap of metal!” Leonidas’s voice boomed.

Ariella exchanged heavy glances with Silas, and they sprinted up the path.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

~
Silver Skies ~

526AX August 22, The Golden Canyon

SILVER SKELETAL EAGLES circled overhead, screeching so loudly that instinct compelled Silas to cover his ears. It was a primal cry
—
one that had been seared irreparably into every animal’s consciousness since birds of prey first appeared in the skies. It warned creatures below to retreat into their hiding places because the hunt was on.

Silas didn't cringe. Instead, he looked up to count his targets. Five rippled silver bodies gleamed as they glided on air, their extended wings tipped with feathers as sharp as daggers. The feathers were—unsurprisingly—made of forged metal. After all, there were mechanical fish in the water, so why not mechanical birds in the air?

Beside him, Ariella groaned. Silas threw her a curious glance.

“I find myself missing the hellhounds,” she commented. “At least they’re made of flesh. I have no idea how to take out a machine.”

“If you hit anything hard enough, it won’t get up again,” he told her.

Ariella’s mouth dropped.

“Tearing off the head typically works as well on machines as beasts.”

The silence was so encompassing, Silas could hear water slush against the rocks below. Ariella opened and closed her mouth a few times, but only a faint pop came out. Finally, she managed to speak.

“Silas, I can’t even begin to imagine the things you’ve seen.” She paused, paling. “Or done.”

He shrugged. Living through a whole lot of bizarre stuff was the price
—
or some would say reward
—
of a long life.

“Oh, you liked that, did you? Well, have another!”

Leonidas’s exclamation tore through Silas’s ears. The explosive crack of a gun boomed as the spy fired at the nearest bird. The force of the hit threw the eagle back, but besides infuriating the creature, it seemed to accomplish little. The bullet merely bounced off its metal breastplate, leaving not so much as a scratch.

“It’s no use,” Silas said, pressing Leonidas’s gun down as he was about to aim for another eagle. “Their bodies are completely armored. Normal bullets won’t go through.”

“What do you suggest?” Leonidas asked him.

“Decapitation,” Ariella muttered.

Leonidas looked at her curiously. “What was that?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You need something with more power,” Silas told him.

“Like a tank?” asked Leonidas.

“Like me.”

The gunshots had made the eagles scatter, but they were circling lower now. Silas jumped up at one as it glided over his head. Before it could fly away, he closed one hand around its neck and the other across its belly. He'd chosen safe surfaces, free of blades or spikes. The metallic bird thrashed about, as though it knew what was coming. Clamping down his fingers, Silas tugged each hand in the opposite direction. The bird split in two, exposing innards of rapidly blinking lights and splintered wires. Silas tossed both halves over the ledge. Ariella and Leonidas leaned over to watch the pieces hit the lake, then turned to him, their eyes wide with shock. Silas grinned back.

Swallowing hard, Ariella asked Leonidas, “What’s a tank?”

“Silas is a tank.”

Silas did not dispute the label. He rather liked it actually.

“Ready?” he asked them, looking up at the eagles.

Ariella’s face contorted in disbelief. “I can’t tear gigantic metallic monsters in half, Silas. I’m not that strong.”

“No one is that strong.” Leonidas’s eyes darted to Silas. “Except Silas apparently. I have to tell you, man, you’re kind of freaking me out here. You were scary enough already
before
you did that.”

A silver blade, similar in design to a throwing knife, landed where Silas’s foot had just been. He gave the birds an irate glare, but they didn’t cower and fly away like any sensible being would. Machines. Bah!

Ariella drew her Serenity sword, a slender blade of
shimmering violet that matched her eyes perfectly. Silas had given her the sword a few months ago on their way to fight in the Solstice Games, and he was pleased she still chose to carry it around.

“Do you think Starsoul can deal damage to those things?” she wondered.

Leonidas coughed out choking sounds. “Starsoul? You named your sword Starsoul?”

Her eyebrows crinkled together. “Are you taking issue with the name or just the naming of weapons in general?”

“Yes. And yes.”

She pushed him back as another knife shot down. “Your gun has a name,” she pointed out. “Boar Biter or something.”

“Boar Hunter,” he corrected, gritting his teeth. “And that’s not my gun’s name. It’s the name of the gun model.”

“And that’s different?”

“Yes. People have real names. Guns have product names. Naming your sword Starsoul would be like me calling you ‘Prophet’.”

She stared at him for several seconds before replying, “That’s not the same at all.”

“Women,” Leonidas sighed, poking Silas in the arm.

Silas swatted his hand away but nodded in agreement nonetheless. “Indeed.”

Ariella frowned at both of them.

Silas cleared his throat. “In response to your question, yes, you should be able to tear through those birds just fine. I wager they are immune only to mundane weapons.”

“Mundane… Are you saying
Starsoul—”

“Later,” he told her, taking a step back. He jumped at the birds again, this time grabbing two. He smashed them together, then tossed them over the ledge.

A hailstorm of knives rained down, and Silas pushed the others flush against the rock wall. He glared up at the birds, who continued to shoot their razor-sharp feathers at them.

Leonidas slipped his gun into its holster and reached into his pocket. “I think you pissed them off, Silas.”

“What is that?”

Leonidas opened his hand. A small metal disc rested on his palm. “Just a little something I swiped from Corse awhile back.”

That could only be bad news. Leonidas would not have gone through the trouble of stealing something as ordinary as a decorative earring from the Avan spy. Silas took a closer look at the disc. About the size of a grape, its black brushed metal surface was free of text or markings of any kind save the slender slit that bisected it.

“It looks like a
Micro-24 Butcher Bomb.”

Leonidas’s thin lips stretched into a smile and his brown eyes glazed over with delight. “Oh, no. Nothing quite so innocuous as that.”

Innocuous
?
The Micro-24 Butcher Bomb, a Selpe bomb, was designed to make lots of big holes—in flesh. It had been designed with a single purpose in mind: to kill. Painfully.

Leonidas swung his arm, launching the disc into the cluster of eagles. It hit a bird with a black head. Silas heard a faint beep, then the bird exploded. As shrapnel struck the other three machines, they dropped out of the sky. Broken birds and metal debris showered down, hitting the water in a clamor of heavy splashes.

Silas watched the metal chunks sink beneath the surface, then looked at Leonidas. “
Innocuous,” he repeated coolly.
“That bomb could blow up an imperial military base.”

Leonidas pinched his fingers together. “Maybe a miniature model of one. You’re exaggerating again, Silas.”

“Phantoms don’t exaggerate.”

Ariella snorted. “Sorry,” she coughed in response to Silas’s icy glare. “I’m just remembering your last staring contest with Jason.”

Silas looked at Leonidas. “How many more of them do you have?”

“In general or on me?”

“Both.”

Leonidas crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Ariella stepped between them. Metal scraped smoothly as she sheathed her sword. “Stop it, you two.” Her eyes stared past Silas, up at the cliffs above them. “I don’t believe it.”

Silas had already felt the soft hum of the Elition’s resonance, so he wasn't surprised when he turned to find him peering down at them. The man was lying on his stomach, his greasy navy-black hair drooping along the sides of his pale, emaciated face.

“Keys,” Ariella muttered.

Silas knew Keys back from his days as a Rosewater guard. Keys was a brilliant—if not somewhat manic—Cipher. He’d been working on some secret project for
 
King River when he disappeared six months ago.

Looking up at him now, Silas hardly recognized Keys. The Rosewater Cipher he knew had always been bursting with energy and enthusiasm; the man staring down at them now had one foot in the grave. It wasn’t just his starved appearance. Or his dirty, unkempt hair. Or even his torn clothes. His eyes were unfocused, suffering from a persistent twitch—and a spark of madness.

“Keys,” Ariella said again, this time calling out to the man on the cliff.

Keys let out a goofy laugh. “Uh, hello there. Do I know you? I hope you’re not going to try to eat me.”

When Ariella just stared at him in shock, Silas said, “No one here is eating anyone.”

“Are you really absolutely positively sure?” asked Keys. “Because that’s what they all said.”

“Who said?”

“Oh, you know, the dogs, the fish, the birds, the machines…all of them.”

“They talked to you?” Ariella asked.

“Of course. Didn’t they talk to you? Those beasties and machines have such silver tongues, you see. They speak such nice words, smile such sweet smiles, and then…boom! They go in for the kill.”

“He’s gone mad,” Ariella muttered.

“Why don’t you come down here, Keys, and we’ll talk about it,” Silas said, projecting his voice over her unhelpful commentary. “I promise we'll protect you from any machines or beasts.”

“Well…all right then. But I warn you, I’m armed. So don’t try anything funny.”

Keys’s head ducked out of sight. Rock scraped against rock as he stumbled his way down the backside of the rocky hill. Less than a minute later, he ran out from a sliver between two rock faces, sliding to a stop before Silas. Ariella was right that he’d gone mad, but even as skinny as he was, he’d not lost much of his speed.

“How long have you been here?” Silas asked him.

“Awhile.” Keys’s eyes danced about from one thing to the next. Once their color had been a perfect match to his hair, but now his hair was caked with oily dirt and his eyes alight with madness. “Here and there. There and here. Over and over again, always in circles.”

“You have traveled through the Hellean portals,” said Silas.

“Portals and not yet really portals.” Keys yanked his fingers through his hair in jerky strokes. Again and again and again. “They wanted to know how to make portals.”

“The Helleans?” Ariella asked.

Keys bobbed his loose head up and down.

“You were trying to make portals,” she said.

“I tried with magic. They did not. Their portals aren't natural.”