The Wrath of the Great Guilds Page 4

  A ball of intense heat appeared in the troll’s face, causing it to reel, as Alain added his own powers to the fight.

  The troll shook its head, its skin smoking, then stubbornly started forward again.

  Mari stood her ground and kept shooting until the troll stopped less than three lances away, wavering, its crude face now a ruined mass. “Cease fire!” Mari yelled.

  The sudden silence felt unreal. It was broken by an inarticulate grunt from the troll, which tried to move one broad foot forward but instead fell to lie unmoving.

  “Is it dead?” Mari asked Alain in a low voice.

  “It was never alive—" he began.

  “I know!”

  Alain walked forward until he was next to the troll, gazing down at it. “It has ceased,” he said.

  Mari saw horses coming toward them through the smoke, Tiae and Confederation cavalry mixed together. Major Sten, in the lead, saluted as his horse shied away from the remains of the dragon and the troll. “Two Dark Mages. We feared they would strike at us with their spells but they only used knives. We killed both.”

  “They were surprised by how quickly their spell creatures were destroyed,” Alain said, “and having put so much strength into creating the creatures could not recover in time to save themselves.”

  A couple of men and one woman wearing the clothes of commons were brought forward at lance point. “Prisoners,” Major Sten said.

  Mari looked them over, spotting a familiar face. “That big man. Alain, he’s one of the Dark Mechanics from Dorcastle.”

  The man glared at Mari and spat, oblivious to the tears running down his face. “My friends are dead. Are you happy?”

  “No,” Mari said. “They’re dead because they wanted to kill me. I regret every death, but I’m getting tired of people who leave me no choice and then want me to feel guilty for what they did. Instead of attacking me, why didn’t you help us overthrow the Great Guilds? You could have practiced the Mechanic arts in the open instead of hiding them from the Mechanics Guild.”

  “We wanted to make a lot of money, not practice arts, you blasted fool!” the man raged.

  “Then blame your own greed, not me. What happened to the scouts?” Mari asked Sten.

  “Killed,” Sten said, his face an angry mask. “As your Mage guessed, the Dark Mages must have slain them. We found the bodies. Both died without drawing a weapon. They never had a chance.”

  The Confederation militia officer was just as mad as Sten. “I’ll assign some of my people to bring the prisoners along behind us. We’ll walk them to Dorcastle to help labor in defense of the city.”

  “Maybe we can use them as human shields when the Imperials attack,” someone growled.

  “No,” Mari said. She did not think she had put a lot of force into the word, but everyone immediately stopped to listen. “The Great Guilds made themselves the only law, and the world has suffered for it. Use these prisoners as your laws demand, and no worse.”

  Major Sten nodded, his expression still grim. “The daughter has spoken.”

  Mari coughed as smoke swirled around her. “Let’s get out of here.” She turned away from the big man from Dorcastle, somehow knowing that she would never see him again. Mounting up as a soldier brought her mare, Mari rode past the destroyed spell creatures and dead ambushers, her horse shying away from the bodies. She kept telling herself that the tears in her eyes were only from the smoke.

  Alain, riding beside her again, reached over to rest one hand on hers. “Are you all right?”

  Mari grimaced. “The daughter feels horrible.”

  “How does Mari feel?”

  “Like she has since the day she learned about the daughter thing, wishing that it was someone else’s job, but knowing that it’s hers.” Mari blinked as they cleared the cut and the smoke, using one hand to rub away the moisture in her eyes. Up ahead in the distance she could see a low bank of smog that marked the location of Danalee, another step closer to Dorcastle.

  * * * *

  They were still a short distance from the city, the slanting rays of the afternoon sun casting their shadows to their right as they trudged along, when one of the new scouts came riding back. “There’s someone waiting up ahead. A Mechanic.”

  Mari massaged her tired eyes, then gazed ahead. “Is he wearing one of my armbands?” she asked, indicating the many-pointed golden star on a blue field on her own and Alain’s forearms.

  “No, Lady. There is an escort of militia from Danalee watching him. They say he came out of the city early this morning and has been waiting in that place along the road all day. He appears to be unarmed,” the scout added.

  “Why does he have a militia escort from Danalee?” Major Sten asked.

  “They say orders have gone out, sir, to make sure no Mechanics are harmed unless the Mechanic is threatening someone. They’re protecting him from anyone who might attack him. It’s because of the peace of the daughter.”

  Major Sten and Major Danel turned questioning looks at Mari, who needed a moment to realize what “the peace of the daughter” meant. “Are you talking about me telling people that they are going to need Mechanics when the new day comes?” Mari asked. “Yes, I have been sending word around that making forbidden technology available to everyone won’t do any good if the people who understand how to make and use that technology have been driven off or killed. Many Mechanics haven’t joined me, but that doesn’t mean they can’t help a lot once victory has been won.”

  “Perhaps that’s what this Mechanic wants to talk about,” Major Sten suggested.

  “Let’s find out,” Mari said. “Alain, come with me. The rest of you stop as soon as this Mechanic comes into sight.”

  Alain kept his eyes on the Mechanic as he came into view, but sensed no warnings of danger to Mari.

  The Mechanic had been sitting alongside the main road where a small secondary road joined it, but stood up when he saw Mari riding toward him. He walked into the center of the road and stood still, his arms spread out and his empty hands clearly visible.

  Well off to the side, twelve Confederation foot militia watched, their short swords in their scabbards. Smiles appeared when they saw Mari’s banner flying above the approaching column, and a buzz of excited conversation began among them.

  Mari rode within a few lance lengths of the Mechanic before dismounting. Alain waited until she was on her feet and watching the Mechanic before he also dismounted.

  The Mechanic, an older man with the hands of someone who had used them in labor for many years, nodded to Mari. “I’m Master Mechanic Lo.”

  Mari nodded in reply. “I guess you know who I am. Lo of Danalee? Mechanic Alli has told me about you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Tough. Fair. Knows his job. That’s what she said.”

  “Hmmph.” Despite Lo’s dismissive snort, Mari could see that he was pleased by the characterization. “How’s Alli?”

  “Doing great,” Mari said. “Building the things she’s dreamed of making.”

  “Like that?” Lo nodded toward the scabbard at Mari’s saddle.

  Mari eyed Lo appraisingly, then turned enough to draw out her rifle. She pulled out the magazine, made sure the chamber was empty, then handed the weapon to Lo. “You were a supervisor in one of the Guild’s weapons workshops when Alli worked for you. What do you think?”

  Lo took it, turning the rifle in his hands and examining the weapon carefully. “Not bad. Decent work. Some signs of haste in the construction of the parts. Semi-automatic? This is way ahead of Guild rifles.”

  “Commons made some of the parts and helped assemble the weapon,” Mari said.

  Lo paused, looking uncomfortable. “So what do the Mechanics do?”

  “Design the weapons, make modifications, oversee the process.”

  “They’re still in charge?”

  “When it comes to making things, yes,” Mari said. “It’s what we’re good at. Outside the workshops, the commons rule themselves.”