Wicked Ways: An Iron Kingdoms Chronicles Anthology by Douglas Seacat & Matt Goetz & Zachary C. Parker & Aeryn Rudel & Michael G. Ryan & Matthew D. Wilson

Author:Douglas Seacat & Matt Goetz & Zachary C. Parker & Aeryn Rudel & Michael G. Ryan & Matthew D. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Skull Island eXpeditions
Published: 2017-06-27T21:00:00+00:00

— CASE 4 —

THE REAPING

By Matt Goetz

Near Glynam in western Llael, late autumn

MELANIE COLLINS SAT IN THE BACK of the rocking wagon next to a case of extremely dangerous, experimental, and, most of all, fragile Strangelight technology, wincing slightly with every bump in the irregular cobbles of the back country road.

To avoid imagining the spectacular explosion that might consume her should one of the delicate instruments suffer catastrophic failure, Mel went back to her mental inventory of the contents of her large equipment case. Counting down the numerous spectragraph plates, Strangelight projectors, spare alchemical capacitors, and yard upon yard of spectrally shielded conduits calmed her nerves—slightly. Most of the items Cronan Bailey, the curmudgeonly quartermaster of Blackwell Hall, sent with them were delicate, but others were volatile if harshly jostled. Accordingly, Mel had packed everything into a rugged metal case, but despite her best efforts, or how carefully she repacked its contents at each stop during their journey, a few things kept getting rattled loose.

Abigail and Elliot sat on the wagon’s bench. The investigator had her glasses on her forehead and was poring over numerous letters from a Workshop affiliate in Elsinberg who had requested aid from the Ceryl branch. The younger Elliot seemed to be enjoying his turn at the reins and had propped his boots up on the buckboard, trying to cut the very picture of a carefree wagoner.

Elliot drove them over another series of dips and bumps, causing the contents of the case to rattle. Mel threw open the lid and snatched the single-use ectoplasmic disruptor mine out of it. This device concerned her above everything else. She inspected it for a moment and then sighed with relief. Bailey had warned her about the perils this little gadget presented should its containment housing be cracked, using colorful words like searing wounds and agony. Thankfully, it wasn’t damaged. After he had explained its use, she had begun to think of the thing as a “ghostbomb,” though Bailey would have taken umbrage with this term. Deciding not to risk putting it back in the case, she clipped the disruptor mine to one of the gear straps that crossed her chest.

“Try to miss a couple, would you?” she said as she punched Elliot in the shoulder. He offered a sheepish grin in return and hauled back on the reins, slowing the horses.

“Sorry.”

To her right, John Kincaid rode up next to the wagon on horseback—or at least he tried to. In the brief time they’d had a horse for Kincaid, a dark brown dray purchased from a farmer outside Corvis, the animal had made it clear to the entire team that it considered itself firmly in charge of their particular relationship. It had dumped the bouncer twice in as many days and had bitten him when he offered it a fistful of grass as a peace offering. Kincaid renamed it “Bastard” to better match its disposition. Bastard tossed its head to shake free of the reins, making horse and rider weave a bit on the road.

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