The Sword of Morrow - Ch. 05

Rymus Ironhands watched as the Reckoner was rolled over onto its back. Rymus had been up since shortly after daybreak and had set about on working on the second part of his mission. Recovery was all well and good, but here was a chance to examine the enemies’ technology.

When he had risen so had Tau’ry and Mozt, the remaining two gobbers from the mechaniks. Together the three had spent the early morning repairing and reattaching the left arm of the Sentinel. Once repaired the boiler and furnace were refueled with coal and water, and lit off. Tau’ry and Mozt were going to help the gun mages set up the camp, which they had begun while the Sentinels repairs were being conducted, but Rymus had decided it would probably be better to resume excavating the Defender while the rains had stopped. While the ground was still muddy, it was no longer flooding and that alone would make any progression on the excavation good. The gobbers had happily accepted the task and went to work as most gobbers do, with a cheeriness that seems amazing, especially considering yesterday’s events.

Rymus had then shared a cup of charka with the trollkin. He’d never real seen and albino trollkin before, but Torga seemed to have a pleasant enough demeanor and was amazingly intelligent for a trollkin. The elf was still asleep, and Rymus had suggested that they let him sleep. He’d never seen anything like yesterdays events. Somehow he’d severed the link between the Menoth warcaster and the Reckoner. Between that and saving their lives with his actions with the Sentinel, he was just happy to be alive. He may be half human but he saw that elven rage welling up in him. Had his magelock not been destroyed in the first volley of the enemy’s barrage, Rymus could only imagine what kind of devastating magic would have been seen on the battlefield. The elfling had carried his sword like an elf though. The blade held down in his left hand and swept back against his lower fore arm. His right hand, which probably held his pistol normally, was pressed to his temple as he fought to control the warjacks on the field. Now Rymus was no mage at all, but he did understand how the magic of the warjacks worked, and for the boy to do what he had done was an incredible feat indeed, and as a gun mage. There had only been four gun mages up to this point in Cygnar’s army that were also warcasters. Currently the only one on active duty was Lt. Allister Caine. While Caine was a powerful gun mage and warcaster, his mouth on more then one occasion had kept him from promotion. In fact Caine had cost Rymus his experiment, with his antics, but if the elf boy was indeed another gun mage warcaster, then maybe, just maybe…

Rymus had by now found the latches underneath the armor and had now unlatched and opened the hood to the Reckoner. I was one of the cleanest engines he’d ever seen. The rods and hydraulic conduits were shined and looked brand new. Disconnecting the armored head unit, Rymus was able to access the cortex. It was unlike the standard Khador cortexes used mostly in the Menoth warjacks. Rymus disconnected the cortex slowly. A yellow glow emanated from the runic carvings all around the exterior of the cortex. Instead of looking like a cylinder like Khador cortexes or a pill like Cygnar cortexes, the Menoth cortex looked like a ball. Circles were carved around the ball in levels, with runes carved into each level. The Fraternal Order would spend much time understanding its operation. It wasn’t until T’mys was almost upon him that he noticed that the elfling was coming towards him.

T’mys’s right hand was outstretched in a wave towards Rymus, as he came down the hill. Rymus was between the Reckoners arm an opened armored hood, with a large metal ball in his hand. The Sentinel stood a little bit off. A new arm attached but the armor over the shoulder was still in utter ruin. The front part of the Reckoner, now facing skyward, was covered in mud. Rymus also had mud over much of his clothes, most of it from the Reckoner.

“Good Morning” T’mys called down.

Rymus grunted back a hello but continued to examine the cortex ball and inner working of the warjack. As T’mys got a little closer he began to notice the runic carving on the sphere and the faint glow coming from them. He shifted his gaze it see the magic. Floating around the ball were several circles similar to those he saw yesterday. This was the beast’s mind.

“What you got there?” T’mys asked friendly enough, although his curiosity was peaked.

Holding the cortex a little higher, as if to present it Rymus told him, “This is a cortex, although this one is kind of special. It’s the first on I’ve seen quite like this. I’d read a report a while back that Khador and the Protectorate had had some sort of falling out. This isn’t Khadoran in origin. If I had to lay a wager I’d say this is completely of Menoth design. I knew they had a construction facility, but the ability to make cortexes, that’s news.” Rymus looked at T’mys fully now. The hypothesis had been brewing in his mind, but it wasn’t until he started to speak it aloud that he knew it had been there. “That means Menoth no longer need outside assistance to create warjacks. That is not good news.” The last sentence he stated very matter of fact-ly.

“You mean this warjack is completely new? T’mys asked.

“No…. well yes but your missing what I’m saying. Yes the ‘jack is new, or newly constructed that is, but the design is known to us. No what I mean is that if the Protectorate now has the ability to create cortexes,” Rymus held up the sphere “then they are about to become a bigger threat.”

At hearing that T’mys looked back towards the top of the hill, hoping that Kerr would return soon. “This is news they need in Caspia.” He looked back towards the dwarf.

“Aye, it is. And we’ll give it to them, because you saved the day, boy. You’re a bonafide hero” Rymus lowered the cortex and smiled. “I don’t think anybody has thanked you yet for yesterday lieutenant. Let me be the first.” Rymus switched the cortex into his other hand, and then reached out to shake T’mys’s.

T’mys took the dwarf’s hand in friendship but looked a little uneasy at being titled a hero. Still though, smiling he said, “I wouldn’t say I’m a hero, just doing my job. Hell Torga took out that paladin. If anybody is a hero it’s probably him.” T’mys shrugged.

“Oh Lt. Torga is a pretty powerful man. I’ll admit that, but what you did to this ‘jack, and even the Sentinel here,” Rymus jerked his thumb back over towards the Sentinel standing but a few feet away. “You saved the day when you took it and took out those damn Menoth zealots.”

“Yeah, but…” T’mys rubbed his head, very uneasy now, “I don’t know old man. I think that was just battle fury. I’m not sure how I did some of that stuff. I just kind of knew if we didn’t get that sentinel back online then we we’re done. So I took it from Capt. Eaton and…”

“Took it?” Rymus asked. “What do you mean took it?

“Well…” And T’mys began to explain exactly what he’d gone through yesterday with seizing the Sentinels controls from their dying captain to trying to seize control of the dead ‘jack before them. By the end of the tale both half-elf and dwarf were sitting on the Reckoners leg like a campfire log.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before.” Rymus said when T’mys was through. T’mys just looked at the dwarf and shrugged, he had no real answers himself. “Now I’m no mage, no sir.” Began Rymus, “I’ve been an engineer all my life. The mechanics and technology behind these things” he patted the warjack they were both sitting on “are my bread and butter. The magic behind them, that’s a wizard’s game. I have a basic idea of how it works though. I’m like one of those ‘jack marshals, I know just enough to make myself dangerous” and he chuckled at that last bit.

“Well you’re one up from me. I know I controlled that thing,” T’mys pointed at the Sentinel, “but I couldn’t tell you how I did it. I stole what was already there.”

“Right, right, I caught that bit the first time around son. Here lets try this” Rymus hopped up from his seat and wipe some of the mud from the seat of his pants. He gave a little wave for the elfling to follow him. Together they walked over to the Sentinel.

“All right, now what do you see when you look for the magic on this thing?” Rymus patted the chain gun cannon.

T’mys did as Rymus said and shifted his gaze. Unlike they day before he saw no runes, no lines of magic. In fact, besides the glow in the eyes T’mys didn’t see any magic at all. “Nothing,” he looked towards Rymus “there’s nothing there.”

“Hmmm… all right, try this. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“I said close your eyes, now do it boy” Rymus commanded. T’mys did as he was told and closed his eyes. He then felt the dwarf take his hand and place it on the warjack. T’mys could feel the slotted steel of the Sentinels face underneath his fingers.

“Ok, now feel for the magic. Just let your being sense the magic. Its in there.”
T’mys shrugged, his eyes still closed, but then settled down and tried to feel the magic. T’mys’s shrug brought a smirk to the old dwarf’s mouth.

“Now don’t try and force it. Take all the time you need. It’s in there, and once you feel it you’ll know.”

'You’ll know' he says. That was pretty condescending. T’mys frowned a little at that but then began to concentrate on feeling the magic once more.

“No Boy!” scolded Rymus “you’re trying to hard, relax into it...easy-like.”

Lt. Willis had never done anything easy like. His uncle had raised him hard, and his father had raised him to be smart. Easy wasn’t in the programming. Still T’mys relaxed as best he could. The metal felt cold against his the palm of his hand. It was just one part of the head assembly. The face of the warjack, of all warjacks for that matter, was like an armored helm. Something you would see on knights of old. Meant to show strength, and yet strike fear into the enemy at the same time. The only exceptions to this rule were the helljacks of the Cryx. Those monstrosities looked like monsters and demons from your deepest nightmares. The tactile sense of things grew stronger as he focused on ‘feeling’. He felt the bits of dried mud, the small scratches that wind and time had left, the small indentation where someone must have hit the Sentinels face sometime ago. He felt all this and yet there was something more. He could feel the heat from the eyes as they glowed. It wasn’t painful by any means but it was present. And slowly his mind seemed to wander and follow that heat back to its source. As he did so he felt the warmth around him as well. Then there in the darkness of his minds eye was a spark. T’mys opened his eyes quickly and pulled away from the face of the Sentinel. “Heat!”

“Aye, there is heat there, and yet you didn’t burn, now did you?” Rymus answered, a smile growing on his faces. T’mys was looking at the palm of his hand and back into the eyes of the Sentinel. “Now tell me this though laddie, what color is that heat?”

T’mys looked at the old dwarf for a second, the dwarf only spread his arms wide with a look on his face that said ‘you tell me.’ T’mys didn’t truly understand the question, but he knew the answer, more importantly he understood the answer.
“Blue.”

“Aye, tis blue. And what else did you feel?” Asked Rymus, prodding him further.

T’mys once again placed his palm on the metal faceplate of the warjack and closed his eyes. It was easier this time to follow the heat, to follow the magic back. Again he felt the heat sink in around him, warming him. As before there was a spark. His body shuddered a bit, unlike before however he stayed connected to the ‘jack with this image in his mind. The spark floated in the blackness, slowly growing. As it began to get larger he could see flames, spinning and twirling in many directions.

“What do you see boy?”

“Fire.” Answered T’mys, “It a big ball of fire. Blue fire. But…. I don’t know. Not really a ball but close.”
“Close? How is it close?”

“I… it’s like longer. More like… more like an egg then a ball, but it’s shifting in different directions.” He stated. His eyes were closed but he was smiling now.

“Shifting?” Rymus was confused

“Yes. The bottom is rotating clockwise, but the segment above that is rotating in the different direction. The section above that one is rotating the same direction as the last one but faster. Then the section above that one is rotating in the same direction as the one on the base but so much slower. The top isn’t moving at all.”
Rymus Ironhands began to understand this image even if the elfling didn’t. Cortexes are layered. The boy was seeing the magic of the cortex but not full grasping what he was seeing. That was ok though. It had taken Rymus himself almost a week to get this far when he was learning this. “Just keep watching it lieutenant. Feel its movement. Feel the rotations.”

T’mys nodded his head but his eyes remained closed. He didn’t want to lose this moment. He continued to watch the fires dance in his mind’s eye. The flames moving around in circles, bending the light and shadows in to strange sigils he could almost recognize, only to have them wash away seconds later with an all new visual pattern. He could feel the rings spinning in their different directions and speeds. More experimentally then by any instinct he tried to slow one of the rings down. He thought to it, trying to increase the pressure on it with the grip of his mind. Like wise the ring began to slow as he played with it. Then as he had before he tried to speed the slow ring up, the third ring started moving with incredible speed were only a moment before it had spun at a snails pace. T’mys slowly moved on to two of the spinning flames at the same time, then three, and then all of them. As it spun faster and faster the fires became brilliant. The shadows and flames all disappeared into bright blue. The strange iconography the flame and shadow playfully created was all gone in the immense light. With out meaning to, T’mys began to picture himself there, next to the large hovering egg of light. After some time he began to slow the egg down with his mind. This was more difficult then speeding it up but after some time it did begin to slow. As the rotations calmed down as the light seemed to diminish accordingly. The fiery rings once more became visible and as it continued to slow the images he had seen in the fires became more distinctive. The fires themselves seemed gentle, like a slow campfire. T’mys pushed further with his mind, slowing all the rings to a halt. As the rings halted, the fires, which slowly died as the rotations slowed, became extinguished. All that was left was a pale blue cylinder pill like object, which widened slightly near the base. Four rings were circled around the cylinder creating five segments of unequal size. On each segment were runes of electric blue. Some of the runes looked similar to the ones he’d seen yesterday spinning around the warjack and Capt. Eaton. Others he’d never seen before. T’mys reached out to touch the cylinder and all went suddenly dark.

T’mys eyes fluttered open to find he was lying on the ground next to the Sentinel. Torga and Rymus were running to him from around the other side of the Reckoner.

“Willis?” Called Torga with a worried sound in his voice.

“Are you all right lad,” Rymus asked as he finally got up to the fallen half elf.
Torga gave T’mys his hand and helped him to his feet.

“What happened?” T’mys asked a little blurrily. “Torga when did you get here.”

“I’ve been her for over and hour now, what are you talking about? Rymus has been showing me our prizes.” Torga jerked his thumb in the direction of the fallen warjack.

“An hour? That can’t be”

Rymus laughed a little “Aye it can, and is. You’ve been standing next to this thing since 9:30.”

“9:30? What time is it now?

Torga looked towards the sun, “I reckon just passed noonday. I came over the hill when Kerr got back and you were fondling the Sentinel’s face while the dwarf was hip deep in that machine.”

“Kerr’s back?”

Torga nodded the affirmative. “About an hour now.”
“Any word from the fort?” T’mys asked. Torga nodded again and pulled a folded
parchment from his shirt.

“There is a ‘jack wagon following her, should be here by two I’d imagine.” Torga began, as T’mys unfold the letter and began to read. “They want to collect these ‘jacks, and the one stuck in the mud as well. After that they are pulling us in.”

Lt. Willis looked up at Torga when he finished and nodded at him this time. He then went back to completing the letter that held their units new orders. A he finished he asked Torga, “How’s Kerr?”

Torga scratched his head and answered, “She’s better. I don’t think she’s completely over everything that happened, but she not a hysteric mess anymore either.”
T’mys inwardly winced at that. Torga was right unfortunately. Sgt. Kerr had been through several engagements with the 92nd and had never fallen apart as she had yesterday. She was a good gun mage, and usually a steady member to have at your back, until yesterday that was.

“She was told that we wouldn’t receive a replacement for Singleton until we get back to Caspia.”

“Gods only know how long that will be.” Muttered T’mys. A slight wave of disorientation hit T’mys again from nowhere. Torga caught him easily enough this time.

Concerned he asked “You all right?”

“Yeah.” T’mys told his friend although quietly, “Yeah, I’m fine. Although I’m starving.”

At this Rymus laughed. Looking down at the dwarf Torga to took a chuckle. “Let’s get back to the camp, I believe a stew is on boil.”

“Stew?” T’mys asked warily. “What kind of stew?

“Fish stew, the kids have been busy” Torga answered as he clapped his friend on the back and started leading him back over the hill to the camp. As the three near the hill’s crest T’mys looked over his shoulder at the Sentinel. It stood there like a silent guardian over the fallen enemy, the blue in its eyes still softly glowing.

“Ok, so there is magic there.” T’mys seemed to both ask and state at the same time. “But that isn’t how I controlled it yesterday.”

“Well from what you said boy, the connection was already there and active. The commands you gave weren’t complicated. The ‘jack knew what you wanted and complied. Had it been confused it probably wouldn’t have done anything.” Rymus explained.

“Ok…” T’mys said, getting his head around the new ideas of what actually happened yesterday, “but I don’t know those runes. And that’s the trick isn’t it?”

“Trick?”

“Yes, the trick. The method of control.”

“Well that’s partly right. That’s the arcane side of the machine. The locomotion is the other side, the science behind it. They work together.” Rymus put his hands together interlacing the fingers there to mimic two gears.

“All right, but I don’t know anything about engineering and that sort of thing.”

“Well that’s ok too.” Rymus informed, “From your point of view, hell most warcasters for that matter, the steam behind things really isn’t understood. They teach a base level idea of it all in the academy, but it’s more about how things operate. You’ve seen how warjacks move, how they work physically. You’ve seen it before, so you mind grasps the idea at least. Now put it all out of your mind, let us eat.”

“Thank Dhunia!” Torga injected. “Common sense has arrived.”

Both Rymus Ironhands and T’mys Willis chuckled at this, but somewhere in the back of T’mys mind the seeds of curiosity had already taken root. Could he actually be a warcaster? The possibility was there. There would be more of this, but for the time being T’mys would concentrate on his new orders, and continue his mission.