The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 (47 page)

Greneks didn't reply. He fished around inside his belt pouch and produced a large eyepiece, which he placed in one eye and began to inspect the leg. His attention to detail was impeccable. He investigated every inch of the prosthetic, occasionally poking here or prodding there. There were several times when he demanded Zarfensis hold the most uncomfortable poses while he scratched figures and calculations on the pad he produced from the back pocket of his worn breeches.

Finally Greneks replaced the pad and dropped the monocle into his pouch. Placing one hand on his chin, he rolled his large eyes skyward and stood there for such a long time that Zarfensis thought he might have fallen asleep.

“Yes, can be done,” Greneks said, as if he and the Xarundi had been carrying on a conversation.

“What can be done?”

“Repair, of course. Make leg new again. Improve. Make better.” The look Greneks gave him was clearly condescending, as if the answer to Zarfensis's question should have been obvious.

The High Priest's ears flicked back. The gnome was obviously mad to think that the twisted pile of scrap fused to his flesh could be repaired. For a moment he thought of seizing the little creature and shaking him, then he remembered what had happened in the Xarundi workshop when Xenir had tried to menace the gnome and controlled the urge.

“Are you certain?” Zarfensis's tone was just short of naked incredulity. He didn't want to antagonize the gnome, but neither did he believe the claim that the leg could be repaired. Then Greneks said he could improve it, which was just flatly impossible.

“Yes, of course. Certain. Need several hours. No more. Fix and make better.”

Zarfensis gaped at the gnome. He still remembered the agony of his initial introduction to the prosthetic. A ring of hollow brass teeth had burrowed into his flesh, seeking out his blood and, through some dark gnomish magic Zarfensis would never understand, bonding with the veins. Now the gnome proposed to just yank it out like removing a splinter from a paw pad?

His tongue flicked out, circling his maw before it snaked back in. The nervous habit wasn't lost on the gnome, who saw it and grinned his toothy grin.

“No worry, High Priest. Gnomes prepare. Every contingency planned for.”

From his pack, he took a tiny brass instrument. To Zarfensis, it looked like an arrow shaft with a claw on one end and a knurled ball on the other. He couldn't imagine what Greneks intended to do with it, but he was terrified that he was about to find out.

“Settle here,” the gnome said, pointing to the very edge of the workbench. “Will detach for repair. But a moment.”

No stranger to pain, Zarfensis was still wary of the instrument and the gnome holding it. His tongue snaked out again.

“How much pain will there be?” Zarfensis finally asked, settling himself onto the indicated spot.

“Not so much as the attaching.”

Without further conversation or any warning, the gnome thrust the instrument into the charred remains of the leg. He worked quickly with long, nimble fingers, explaining in his clipped sentences that he was closing the valves and loosening the attachment points. The pain wasn't as bad as Zarfensis was expecting. Certainly nothing compared to the fusing process that he had also endured at the gnome's hand.

Greneks dropped the tool back in his pouch and grasped the leg. With a twist that demonstrated the surprising amount of strength in the gnome's wiry frame, he removed the entire assembly and sat it to the side.

Zarfensis was almost afraid to look down, but the curiosity that compelled him would not be denied. The sight he beheld wasn't nearly as bad as he was expecting. The solid ring with its metal teeth was still in place. A few flexible segmented tubes ended in tiny valves. The thicker supporting rods and rings that held the prosthetic in place had tiny claws that were open, as if waiting to accept the leg once it had been repaired.

“Will fix soon,” Greneks said, hefting the leg as easily as a feather, though it was easily three times his own weight. “Bring back. Stay here.”

The gnome trundled over to another work bench and began unpacking his bag, singing to himself in a strange language Zarfensis didn't recognize. Stay here, the gnome had said. As if he could go anywhere else. He had no crutch to lean on. He was effectively trapped in the workshop until the gnome completed his task.

After several hours, the gnome announced that his task was complete. A few spells needed to be prepared, he said, but Zarfensis would be whole again very soon.

Every muscle in Zarfensis's body was aquiver in anticipation. In the years that had passed since the battle in the ice cavern, he had never expected to have a functioning leg again. At first, he expected the vermin to execute him outright. Then, when they didn't and instead left him to rot in one of their subterranean jails, he had assumed he would die of neglect.

The day that the Grand Inquisitor had come to the prison to tell the guards that he would be transferred to the city to have his connection with the Quintessential Sphere severed was at turns the most terrifying and elated moment he could remember. The dragon who had stayed in contact throughout those years promised that he would be freed and he had been.

Regardless of anything else Stryne said or did, he had lived up to that promise and it seemed that he was about to live up to this one as well. Of course he had ulterior motives, but if their motives aligned in the extermination of the vermin, a dragon was a powerful ally to have.

Greneks was singing a jaunty tune as he came to stand before Zarfensis. His black eyes danced with merriment. He finished the last verse of his song before he sat the prosthetic down in front of the High Priest.

Zarfensis could hardly believe that in a few mere hours, the gnome had produced this from the mangled remains of his previous leg. Where the original had been a mass of exposed gears and bundles of cording, this new leg had plates of armor that wrapped around the points most prone to damage or attack. Gone also was the crystal window that had held the runedust powering the leg's magic. This concerned the Xarundi, but he had learned enough from the gnome to know that anything important would be explained in due time.

“Is good yes?” Greneks waved a hand at the contraption, his dark eyes staring intently at Zarfensis.

“Not just good. Amazing.”

The little creature beamed and took the strange instrument from his pouch. Zarfensis assumed his previous position without being asked and Greneks set about reattaching the leg to the metal ring. After it had been reattached to the studs that circled the rings, the gnome began to open the valves he had closed only a few hours before.

As Greneks enervated the prosthetic, Zarfensis felt a surge of power flow through him. This wasn't just the return of his mobility, although it was certainly that. The leg had begun to thrum with muted power upon being fed his living blood. This was something different entirely.

Greneks stood back, motioning for Zarfensis to stand. The Xarundi got unsteadily to his feet, relishing the feeling of being truly mobile again after so long. He took an experimental step forward, finding the motion of the leg to be much smoother and more natural than the previous version.

“You've outdone yourself, Greneks.”

“Pleased, yes?” The gnome steepled his long slender fingers under his chin and regarded the massive Xarundi as he flexed the leg, taking a few more steps to get the feel of the augmented limb.

“What about the runedust chamber?” Zarfensis asked, bending at the waist to get a better look at the armor plating that surrounded the leg.

“No runedust,” Greneks said with a grimace. He displayed his left hand and Zarfensis saw that half of the smallest finger was missing.

Sudden comprehension sent a chill up Zarfensis's spine.

“You mean...” The High Priest trailed off, feeling uncharacteristically squeamish about voicing what he suspected.

“Gnome magic most powerful machine magic,” Greneks replied solemnly, nodding. “Is power and protection.”

Without warning, the gnome thrust his right hand forward, fingers extended. He spoke words that crackled with power. Zarfensis recognized it as a spell, but had no time to counter with magic of his own.

A jet of green flame leapt from the gnome's fingers, striking the prosthetic leg. Zarfensis instinctively jerked it back, but not before he saw that the armor plating had deflected the flame. He reached down and touched the spot where the flame had touched. It was no warmer than the air around them.

“Gnome machines, gnome protection,” Greneks said, as if that ended the conversation, which it effectively did. There was nothing left to say.

Greneks turned toward the door and motioned for Zarfensis to precede him. The High Priest bounded easily into the common room, relishing in the comfort and stability the new leg provided him. It had been so long, so many years, since he had been whole. If nothing else, the dragon kept his word. Now it was up to them to keep theirs.

“Greneks, would you be so kind as to summon the women?”

The gnome grinned his wide smile, his triangular teeth glimmering the dim light. With his head still bobbing up and down, Greneks opened the door to the safe house and stepped outside.

#

Tionne and Nerillia stood in the shadow of the safe house, watching panic sweep through the city. The magical safeguards Tionne had put in place around their hiding place keep them free of the wraiths as they jumped from host to host, consuming as much blood as they could before splitting and resuming the hunt. Tionne glanced at Nerillia and the older woman flashed her a wide smile, gesturing to the city.

“You did that, Tionne. That's your power, set free and rampaging through Dragonfell. How does it feel?”

“I feel alive.”

“That's all?” Nerillia frowned. “I thought you'd feel more.”

“Oh, no, Nerillia,” Tionne corrected her. “You don't understand. I've never felt this alive. I feel full to bursting, when I've always felt empty. This is my purpose. This is what I was born to become. I live to serve the will of the Ancient Dyr.”

Nerillia sniffed.

“You sound like Zarfensis.”

Tionne shrugged.

“He might be right, Nerillia. Maybe I do have some strange, unknown connection to the rune and its ancient power. All I know is that I can feel them. I can feel every single wraith loose in the city. I feel them swelling. I feel them growing. I feel them spawning. I feel the terror they're spreading and the death they are causing and it all feels so...so...alive!”

“I told you that you'd fulfill your purpose with us,” Nerillia said. “You just had to believe in yourself.”

“I had a good teacher,” Tionne said, slipping her hand into the Lamiad's and giving it a squeeze. “I couldn't have done it without you.”

The Lamiad shrugged and looked out over the city. “I imagine you could have. I just pushed you in the right direction.”

“Why couldn't you help me with the ritual?” Tionne asked, peering curiously at Nerillia. “I know you're a vessel. I can feel the link shock dancing between us.”

She squeezed Nerillia's hand, sending a renewed tingle through both of their bodies. Nerillia pulled away, her crimson eyes troubled and focused far away.

“I can't.”

“Surely you have the knowledge,” Tionne blundered on. “You taught me the ritual--”

“No. You don't understand. I can't. They took that part of me.”

“They took--” Tionne gasped, her hands going to her mouth. “They
censured
you? Who? How? When?”

“Censure is a human ritual,” Nerillia replied, her voice bland. “Other races have other rituals, but the end result is the same. Who isn't important. It was a long time ago. Hundreds of years before you were born.”

Tionne's head jerked up and she looked at the older woman. She didn't seem more than twice her own age. How could she be hundreds of years old?

“You're
hundreds
of years old?”

“I am,” the Lamiad replied with a hint of her usual humor. She slid her palms down her voluptuous body, writhing in exaggerated sensuality. “I look pretty good for my age, don't I?”

“Yes,” Tionne replied flatly, and Nerillia laughed. “How did you survive? Faxon cut me off from the Sphere for seconds and I thought I was going to die.”

“I found a way to adapt. My people are skilled with magic of the mind.”

“I'm impressed.”

“Don't be. I'm far more impressed with how you've managed to survive.”

“Why?” Tionne was puzzled. It was the first time that she and Nerillia had compared experiences.

There was something ridiculous about their confessional moment. They were standing on the porch of the safe house, watching blood wraiths lay waste to the capital city of the Human Imperium, yet their conversation was as easy and natural as ever.

“Because I was able to sequester the emptiness I felt. You've lived with that lack all your life. It's hardened you in ways I can't imagine.”

Tionne thought about that. She'd never really seen it that way, but she supposed that Nerillia was right. After all, she'd never tried to block out the emptiness, just find ways to temporarily fill it. To find things that made her feel whole. Tonight, standing here watching Dragonfell fall, she felt more whole than she'd ever felt in her entire life. She felt almost drunk with it.