Umbral Ten by Douglas Murphy

Author:Douglas Murphy [Murphy, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-20T22:00:00+00:00

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“How’d it go?” Jakob asked, as Snuffles entered the blacksmith’s shop.

Part of him worried that Snuffles’ early return had meant that that part of the plan, the most important part of their threadbare little plan, had failed. Certainly, the plan on this end hadn’t gone entirely smoothly, as their attempts to convince the blacksmith around had ended with the poor man bound hand and foot in the back room.

The occasional wailing noises from said back room were … distressing, Jakob had to admit. Neither Rook nor Sister Tamara seemed bothered by them, though: Sister Tamara was busy selecting weapons for the townspeople to use, and Rook was making adjustments to his arm, incorporating some kind of canister of amber fluid into it.

(“What’s that for?” Jakob had asked, but Rook had declined to answer, just mumbling something about how it would take too long to explain.)

“We’re scraping the bottom of the barrel, but we found someone to wear the robes and say the words,” Snuffles said. “So long as he doesn’t decide that doing so will forever damn his soul.”

Jakob squinted at him. “Is that likely?”

“Yes,” Rook said, without looking up.

“From the town of crazy blood sacrifice cultists, mate? Aye, seems likely,” Sister Tamara said.

Rook sighed, clicking another part into his arm. “And you heard Lady Elizabet’s whole rant about ‘resist and you’ll suffer.’”

Jakob saw Snuffles cant his head, skimming his gaze over the open hatch across Rook’s arm. Jakob was certain that any of the college’s artificers would have been delighted to take apart that arm of Rook’s and examine its inner workings -- from what little Jakob knew of artificial limbs, the framework was a vastly outdated autodyne prosthetic, but extensively modified so that it could be reworked in short spans of time to include any manner of device.

“Making upgrades?” Snuffles asked.

“I’m coming to realise that the cannon doesn’t quite cut it.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be saying ‘I told you so’ for many more.”

Snuffles chuckled, nudging a foot against Rook’s arm.

Sister Tamara held up a box of gold-plated bullets, raising an eyebrow. “Y’think Lady Theodosia can work her magic on these?”

Jakob leaned over, running a thumb over the edge of the bullets. They weren’t as smooth as he had thought they’d be, just by looking at them. Far from it, actually, he could feel the nicks and grooves in them with crystal clarity.

“I’m no expert,” he said. “But I am certain she can work at least a basic enchantment upon these.”

“Basic ain’t good enough this time,” Sister Tamara said. “But I guess we’ll see what she says. Maybe she can work some kinda lightning spell into them. Or fire? Hey, what works best for killing your sort, Snuffles?”

Jakob assumed that question was rhetorical. There was no way that -- …

“A blade imbued with holy magic works best, like Lance’s golden sword,” Snuffles said. “Although my blood can be used as a catalyst with a pretty similar effect. Want me to bleed a little on your bullets?”

“Hard pass, mate.

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