The lock eater, p.27
The Lock-Eater, page 27
The gearling kept his eyes forward. “He’s alive,” he said.
“And you?” she asked.
Now Traveler turned. At first, his glowing motes were carefully blank. He looked like any other gearling—stiff, genteel, unfeeling. Then something in the expression changed. His eyes tilted. They warmed. The shift was subtle, but effective. Even after all their time together, it still amazed Melanie how communicative Traveler could be with just two little dots.
“I’m alive too,” he said.
“Even if everything else is a lie,” Melanie agreed.
The gearetten had been scorched. Its three eyes were dark behind the mesh, and it sat in a tilt, pushed back by the force of the explosion. It still blocked their way out, but it also blocked the guards from swarming in.
Melanie could hear a great clamor of voices from the other side of the doors, likely responding to the blast. In the distance, a bell began to ring—once, twice. A citywide emergency was being declared.
“We’ll have to find another way out,” Melanie said. She gazed across the entrance hall. All the other doors led inward, and the windows were too high to climb through. “Maybe if we double back, we’ll find other exits . . . some kind of service door or secret passage.”
She felt a rumble behind her. The guards must be trying to push the door open.
The second rumble was even stronger.
“What are they doing out there?” Melanie frowned, turning. The other girls were all backing away from the doors with alarmed expressions.
No, not the doors, Melanie realized.
From the gearetten.
Three glowing dots ignited.
“w W-Hat?”
An odd voice echoed out of the machine. The white motes swirled behind their grille, moving in confused rotations.
“W-w wHEre aM I?” The gearetten lifted itself heavily from its prostrate position, looming even higher. Its enormous metal legs droned with the sounds of heavy machinery.
“Oh,” Melanie gasped. “Oh, no.” Her words rang through the hall like the tones of a bell.
“I I I I c-cAN’t Fee e l aNYthInG. RR rriQ?”
Traveler’s eyes were bright with shock. “That spell was the same one Zerend used to destroy the evidence of his work. The same explosion that created me . . .”
Traveler pressed forward, his hands raised. “Zerend, stay calm,” he said. “You’re alive. That’s the most important—”
“nO.”
“Zerend, please. Listen to my voice.”
“No nO NO NO NONONO. nO-T liKE THI I I I IS.” The gearetten’s piston legs began to churn. Steam sprayed from valves all over its body. Its three eyes jerked wildly—the color clouding from white to bloody red.
“MM m E L aaNeeeee GaTe.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. A chill climbed up her back. “Run.” She turned to Mrs. Harbargain. “Get the others inside! Somewhere deep. Go now!”
Mrs. Harbargain scooped Blitz from Traveler, then herded Melanie’s friends inward, back toward the castle’s interior. The matron brought up the rear, carrying Blitz in her arms. She turned when she realized Melanie hadn’t followed. “Come with us,” she called.
“I’ll be right behind you!”
Harbargain’s face crumpled. “You won’t,” she said. “I let you go once. I was a fool then. What would I be now?”
“Yyy-y OUr f-faULT! mmEL a NEe!”
The gearetten’s front leg swiped out, obliterating a castle column in a single movement. The entire hall shook. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
“You’d be the woman who stormed a castle to save my life,” Melanie said. “Now go, please! Protect the others!”
Harbargain glanced behind her to where Melanie’s friends had disappeared into the castle. When she looked back her face was resolute. “I love you, Melanie Gate. Take care, my little wonder.”
Melanie nodded, fighting back tears.
Another crash. The building shook with even more violence. She turned just in time to see one of the gearetten’s three eyes center upon her. The red pupil expanded.
“MM EL A N EE!”
The automaton lurched forward. One of its enormous mechanical legs lifted upward and came punching toward her with frightening speed. Traveler lifted his hand and conjured a glittering globule. The bubble repelled the blow, but burst in the process, dissolving to nothing.
“We have to get you out of here!” Traveler buzzed, raising another barrier. “He’ll bring down the whole palace.”
“The whole city!” Melanie said. She could hear the dread thick in her own voice. “This thing destroyed Ein’s glade with some kind of weapon . . . he called it an eldritch canon!”
Zerend’s voice shrieked out of the automaton’s metal grille. The gearetten shifted its weight onto its back four legs and struck downward with the other two at the same time. Traveler shouted in alarm. He pulled his arms wide and the bubble flattened and stretched, shielding a broader area. The legs bounded off just as the spell shattered.
“Jump onto my back!”
Melanie did as she was told, climbing onto the gearling. Once she was on, Traveler burst forward, loping beneath the gearetten.
The entrance to the castle was still fastened shut, but now that the obstruction blocking their path had moved away from it, rising up to kill her, it meant she could . . .
OPEN! she commanded, pressing her hand to one of the enormous doors.
They burst apart, revealing a small army on the other side. At first the city guards looked frightened to see a gearling bounding through the suddenly open entryway. Then, as they caught sight of the enormous mechanical monstrosity behind it, they looked truly terrified.
“Run!”
“The machines have gone mad!”
Guards fell over themselves attempting to retreat, creating a mass of fleeing bodies.
“Hold on!” Traveler crouched low, then took a flying leap over the crowd. He landed on the other side with a hiss of steam.
The guards were still scrambling out of the way when the gearetten burst through the castle’s facade, obliterating what was left of the entrance.
“y-yOUR FAU-lt ME L L L L an EEEE!”
“We’re in the heart of the city!” Traveler rasped. “There’s no way to lead it out without people dying.”
Melanie remembered the smell of seawater in Riquem’s vision. “The docks!” she cried. “They’re just west of the castle.”
Traveler skidded into a turn, bounding westward. Melanie glanced behind her to see the gearetten charging after them. Its six insectlike legs pumped furiously, each step shattering the stones beneath them.
It was morning in Crossport, but the emergency bells meant most civilians were required to take shelter in their homes or nearby businesses. Even so, some people still milled about in the streets. Curious bystanders gaped toward the commotion, and a stubborn few ignored the alarms entirely to go about their business.
Melanie saw a kassipoi merchant hurriedly clearing his table of merchandise as he noticed the chaos barreling toward him. The kassipoi yowled, his fur standing on end. He scrambled out of the way as Traveler and Melanie sprinted past, only narrowly avoiding the gearetten’s pulverizing legs.
Ahead, Melanie could see the harbor juddering between the last two buildings of the avenue. Merchant ships rocked gently against the docks. Now that the storm had passed, the sea was unnervingly calm. She tried to think. How could they lead Zerend to the water? She doubted that enormous metal body was much good for swimming. Perhaps if he was angry and disoriented enough, she could—
A thunderous crack erupted from behind her. The sky dimmed, darkness swallowing the avenue. Then morning returned, and the hulking shape of the gearetten crashed upon the harbor—right in front them.
Melanie screamed as Traveler skidded to a halt.
The gearetten’s three motes clicked into a monstrous synchronization. They began to spin, the lights drawing together. Soon they’d formed a single blood-red eye. Energy crackled from the orb, lines of red lightning snaking across its metal body.
“This . . .” Melanie gasped. Her last memory of Ein’s glade snapped into focus. “This is the eldritch canon! He’ll kill everyone!”
Traveler’s face turned down toward Melanie’s. His eyes were despondent. “It’s too strong,” the gearling said. “We have to run.”
“No.”
Melanie was tired of running.
Ein had told her she was a spirit of freedom—a key to open doors. And true enough, all during her journey Melanie had been bursting through barriers, usually to flee.
But she was also more than what Ein had meant for her to be. She was a foundling, a prodigy, and a con artist. A witch, a rebel, and a friend. She was a girl and a spirit and whatever else she chose. She was a lock-eater.
I won’t define you, Hexe of the South. Even that name is yours to set aside, if you choose.
She was the Hexe of the South—but on her terms.
She was a key to open doors.
And, apparently, to shut them.
“Get me closer,” Melanie said. “I need . . . I think I need to touch it.”
Traveler’s eyes tilted doubtfully, but a moment later he nodded. “Very well.”
The gearling burst forward, skittering agilely across the street—and then the wooden planks of the harbor. Zerend shrieked unintelligibly. The gearetten punched its legs at them, attempting to pin them against the docks. Its glowing eye brightened, growing almost as intense as the morning sun.
A leg shot out toward them. Traveler only just dodged the thrust. The second one Traveler buffeted away with a glittering bubble. The gearling crouched and pivoted, leaping toward the automaton’s enormous scorched abdomen.
He was too slow for the third strike.
Traveler tried to leap over the sweeping limb, but the blow caught his legs, sending them both spinning through the air. Melanie felt the shock of impact as she landed, saw bright spots burst before her eyes. She reached out blindly, finally grasping . . . metal.
“Melanie!” Traveler’s voice sounded so far away.
“D I EEEEE.”
In contrast, Zerend’s voice was everywhere, rumbling through her entire body. Her eyes focused. She was directly beneath the gearetten.
“CLOSE!” Melanie screamed.
It was a brief wish, but a strong one, and it passed right through her hand where she’d pressed it against the gearetten’s armor. The metal heard her, and it did its very best to grant such a potent wish.
It imploded.
Once, Melanie had witnessed a ship sinking, when an old merchant vessel gave way just outside the harbor. The wood sang as it collapsed, in a mournful hymn. The sound Melanie heard now was similar. There was a sharp crunch of metal, then a high warped chime.
“W w w h-ha t?”
Melanie lurched suddenly backward, flying through the air. She landed against a floating bubble that Traveler had thrown her way. The gearling quickly helped her down, and the two of them stood side by side as they watched the enormous mechanical monster folding in upon itself.
“R rr riQum! N o!”
Another high screech, but this was from the glowing eye. The lines of electricity grew more intense, crawling across the shrinking metal sphere.
Traveler raised his hand and the stone inside his palm flared. Then one last billowing bubble appeared, swallowing the gearetten and yanking it backward.
Zerend fell into the sea. The surface of the water hissed and boiled on contact, but it wasn’t long before all that densely packed metal plummeted downward. There was a dull, startling BOOF that shook the docks. Then, after a few churning waves, the water quieted.
The morning was silent again.
They stayed there for a time, listening to the lapping water. Finally, Melanie turned to Traveler. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. She took his hand in hers. “He was . . .”
How to put it into words? He was your friend. He was so much more than your friend. He was a life, and I know what it cost you to end it.
“He was a murderer,” Traveler finished for her. The gearling let out a little sigh that echoed within his mask. “We should find the others,” he said. “I doubt staying in Crossport would be wise. For us or your friends.”
Melanie nodded. “I know a place,” she said. “One we can make our own.”
The gearling turned his gaze toward her. His glowing eyes tilted hopefully.
“Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 35
NEARLY everyone at the Merrytrails School for Magic agreed: Abraxas was a good cat.
Not the kindest. Or the most beautiful. Or the most entertaining, or agile, or sweet-smelling. But deep down he was good.
Which was why they were throwing him a nameday party.
No one was quite sure exactly how old the cat was, of course. Not even Mrs. Harbargain. But when you’re a family of foundlings, you don’t get too caught up in the details.
Abraxas had acquiesced to a miniature party hat for exactly seventeen seconds. He now batted at what was left of the unfortunate headgear, on the ground in shreds.
Melanie the Periwinkle, the First Hexe of the South, began the speeches. She held Mrs. Harbargain’s hand in her own as she recalled the day a year ago when she’d accidentally released Abraxas from their orphanage . . . also accidentally exploding the building in the process. The South Coven all smiled at one another, remembering that night.
Agatha the Cardinal, the Third Hexe, reminded Melanie that she’d snuck a fire iron into the room. The Fifth Hexe, Sun-mi the Celadon, recalled that she’d even given a little speech!
Sun-mi set Abraxas’s birthday cake in front him, drawing the cat’s attention away from the clawed-up strips of party hat. The loaf was baked from eggs, fragrant cheese, and fish scraps, and topped with a generous helping of fried crickets. It smelled awful, but a more conventional cake awaited the girls inside. Sun-mi had only used a few crickets in that one.
“What was it you said we’d have to rename the orphanage?” she asked, pressing a finger to her lips. Beside her, Blitz’s shining face split into an expectant grin. He hadn’t heard this part of the story.
“The Merrytrails Asylum for Cat Killers!” cried Baruti the Zaffre, the Fourth Hexe, and all the girls cackled with laughter.
Melanie flushed. “I never said that.”
“You DID!” insisted the Sixth Hexe, Mariana the Pearl. “And you got in so much trouble!”
“Well, in any case, this isn’t about me,” Melanie said primly. “It’s about Abraxas.”
“Wasn’t that what started the whole thing with Traveler?” asked Jae Jetblack, the Second Hexe, turning to the gearling. “Abraxas escaped, but then he brought you to Melanie. To us.” She looped her arm through Traveler’s, leaning affectionately into him. The two had become fast friends in the past year, and Jae was easily the most apt of his students. In her black coat with lacy sleeves (designed by Livia) she looked every bit the magical prodigy she’d proven herself to be.
Traveler the Gold’s glowing eyes rose to meet Melanie’s, the dots two mirthful crescent moons. “Technically Melanie found me first,” he said. “In a different life. But that’s right . . . I was alone in Crossport, desperately seeking a way out of the city. I knew of an orphanage, and had heard about its unusual accident. But on my way, I got lost in the storm. I had no idea which building was yours. Then I saw a poor creature huddled beneath a windowsill. He was soaked to the bone. And he was just outside Merrytrails.”
“You rescued each other!” exclaimed Helen Sunglow-Stables, the Seventh Hexe. “So we have Abraxas to thank for all of this.”
“To Abraxas!” Jae shouted.
“To Abraxas!” Blitz’s body flared, sending sparkling arcs across the glade. Several of the water spirits cried out, splashing the witches in protest with glittering droplets.
Melanie smiled as her friends all screamed and laughed, shielding themselves from the spray with minor protection spells. Abraxas hissed at the spirits, retreating from his birthday feast. It was probably for the best, Melanie thought. A cake that fragrant combined with a cat that gassy was asking for trouble.
Still, in that moment, she was nearly overcome by the debt she owed the mean old tom.
It had taken a year to build their little school in the woods.
A year, and toil, and no small amount of luck. The aldermages had followed them, of course. In the days following Zerend’s destruction, it seemed like the entire thaumacracy was after their heads. But with Traveler’s help, the girls had escaped the city and made it to Hamlen, where Katzy’s and Livia’s grateful families hid them for a time.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the truth of Zerend’s treachery was revealed. His notes on the body-stealing spell were discovered, along with several detailed prospective strategies for a coup against the king and prime minister.
With such a wealth of evidence pointing to the empire’s highest ranking magical mind being both a murderer and seditionist, the remaining two heads of state agreed there was only one reasonable course of action.
They quietly pretended the whole thing had never happened.
Not that there weren’t changes. A new high enchanter was chosen, and it turned out that Adrianus’s mentor, Saanvi, had been selected for the job. She began a sweep of reforms, including ending all hostilities against the Ley Coven and a systematic purge of corrupt aldermages. She even loosened restrictions on the Imperial Census of Spellwrights, allowing grouille royalty to practice magic for the first time since the Wizard War.
Many fought back against Saanvi the Red’s new policies, but with the king and prime minister behind her, there was little her rivals could do to stand in her way. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a chance.
Melanie and the girls were able to journey to the Zwarte Woud unthreatened, where they found Ein’s glade a burned-out ruin. The spirits were scattered. The forest denizens in hiding.
