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  “You don’t give me orders!” Adamas challenged.

  “Then take it as a suggestion, because if you don’t go down there, I will personally drag you kicking and screaming if need be.”

  The two gems glared at each other for several pregnant moments before the diamond relented. “Get the troops ready to move at Hawk’s command.”

  “And Lates?” Caerus asked, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

  “What about him? He’s far too young to be involved in this kind of combat.”

  He floated out, leaving two very concerned children.

  “What could—?”

  “Don’t,” Ruber said. “Do not speculate. Do not guess. Don’t even imagine. Just go get the troops ready and nothing else. The last thing we need is to panic at a time like this.”

  “And what time is this?” Caerus asked.

  “This is obviously the end of Father’s reign as king, of course. And we both know he isn’t going to step down willingly.”

  She had nothing to say after that.

  “The best way to stop someone trying

  to crash through a door is to open it.

  I assure you they will always fall

  flat on their face.”

  Sirus Sus

  Sole survivor of the Sus Family Slayings

  How to Prepare Yourself for the Worst

  Volume Three

  Chapter Three

  “SHE HAS to be here somewhere,” Molly said for what felt like the fiftieth time.

  They had begun searching the chambers one by one, trying to ascertain who was in each and if they were the one clockwork girl Molly was looking for. So far the first two levels of chambers had resulted in two “I know them,” three “I wouldn’t let them out even if I wanted to,” and one very emotional “Oh, this is where she went,” but not a single “This is her.”

  Ferra was slowly losing her patience.

  “Why can’t we just open them all?” she asked after what she thought was far too long going from one door to another.

  “Because some of these people are not well. Their morality springs have worn down, or they might be suffering from some kind of malfunction that is not readily evident, and I have orders not to.”

  Ferra almost let all that slide until she repeated Molly’s words mentally, halting at “orders.”

  “Whose orders?” she asked cautiously.

  “General workshop orders,” Molly answered in her own voice. “These people are in lockdown for a reason. We cannot just release them.”

  “So what are we doing, then?” Too late, Ferra realized she had crossed into territory the Yellow Lenses’ gruff voice had warned was off-limits.

  “Found her!” Molly exclaimed, clapping her small brass hands together and scattering Ferra’s concerns.

  Ferra walked up to the cell and found the number 1816 stamped on the door. To the right a brass panel had the name Olimpia stamped on it and a phrase Molly translated. “Do not reattach eyes.” Under the brass panel was a simple series of switches, the door’s lock.

  “What does that mean?” Ferra asked, aghast.

  Molly shrugged. “No idea. She has been stored here as long as the workshop has been in place. There were rumors she came with Tinker and Jones from their original world.”

  “What world was that?” Ferra swallowed most of the last word, realizing she had just narrowly escaped Yellow Lenses in the few seconds before Molly found the door. She was not about to make another mistake.

  Molly said nothing and searched for the correct combination that would open the door. Ferra slid the window grill on the door open and looked inside.

  It appeared as if a beautiful woman were sleeping upright.

  “By Logos, there’s a human in there!”

  Molly grabbed Ferra’s hand when the barbarian tried to pry the door open. “No she’s not. She is simply crafted in the guise of a human woman. Trust me, Ferra, she is a clockwork being just like me.”

  Ferra pulled her hand back and watched as Molly slid the door open but left the restraining arm intact. “Why would they make her so lifelike?”

  “Different units served different purposes. Whatever Olimpia’s purpose was, she needed to pass as human.”

  “That sounds like she was a spy.”

  Molly turned a small crank built into the side panel of the door. “Espionage would make sense.”

  The lights in the chamber glowed dully for a moment as Molly continued to spin the wheel. Slowly they began to grow brighter, and a hum came from the apparatus the woman stood in. Molly got closer as she waited for the chamber to recharge. After about a minute, the strange woman’s eyelids snapped open.

  Revealing two dark crevices where eyes should have been.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, sounding like a panicked human. “Speak up! I can’t see you.”

  Molly held out her hand and pressed it to Olimpia’s face. “It’s me, Molly. You’re in your chamber.”

  The clockwork woman let out a breath and smiled. “Molly, how long has it been?”

  “Longer than you think. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Of course, let me out and I will answer anything you ask.”

  Molly pulled her hand back. “You know I can’t do that, Olimpia. We have orders not to release any of you.”

  “What are orders but suggestions made with force? If it’s been as long as you say it’s been, just let me out. You can’t get in trouble.”

  The woman sounded so real, so emotional Ferra would not have been able to tell Olimpia was not real but for her lack of eyes.

  “It’s not a matter of trouble, it is an order and I can’t break it.” Molly sounded sad, but her voice didn’t waver. She obviously meant what she said.

  “Then I’m not sure why you think I would say anything to you.” Olimpia now sounded angry.

  “Because we are looking for the command pod.”

  “Ah-ha!” was all Olimpia said.

  “If we could find the pod, there is a chance I could cancel all standing orders and maybe let you and the others out.”

  “You’d do this for me? For us?”

  “I can try,” Molly answered, sounding hopeful.

  Olimpia considered it for a moment and then sighed. “I suppose I have no choice. The command pod is under the fabrication floor. It is the lowest three levels of the workshop. They were meant to be jettisoned in case the workshop was overrun or control was lost.”

  “I didn’t know there was anything underneath the fabrication floor,” Molly mused.

  “No one did; that was the whole point. If there were a rebellion, the clockworks could never find it, and if someone gained control of the clockworks, they could never reveal its location. But finding it is just the first part. You will need to answer the door’s questions before you can gain access.”

  “What door?” Ferra asked, which made Olimpia jump back in the harness that held her fast in the chamber. She gave off a sound of fright as she uselessly looked to the left and right.

  “She’s a friend, with me,” Molly said, trying to calm her. “Everything is well.”

  “You brought a human into the workshop?” She smiled, her earlier panic vanishing instantly. “Must be a very special human indeed.”

  “What door?” Molly asked, ignoring the remark.

  “The door that leads to the command pod is guarded by the workshop’s sentry and will ask three questions before it will allow access.”

  “What are the questions?” Molly asked.

  “They change,” Olimpia explained. “They are all very personal and refer to the creators’ earlier life.”

  “How do we get past that?” Ferra asked Molly.

  “What happens if we answer incorrectly?” Molly asked Olimpia.

  “You are allowed two failures. If you make a third error, the guardian will destroy you.”

  “Do you know any of the answers?” Ferra asked.

  “I overhead a few—bef
ore. ‘What was her name?’ The answer is Elizabeth. ‘Where did Father die?’ The answer is the north pole. And ‘Where did lightning strike?’ The answer is Ingolstadt.”

  “What does all that mean?” Ferra asked, confused.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Molly said, working the door mechanism. “Thank you, Olimpia, you were invaluable.”

  “You’ll keep your promise? If you get to the command pod you’ll release us?”

  Molly swung the door away from her. “I made no such promise. I said if we found the pod, there was a chance I could cancel the standing orders and maybe let you out. There is a chance of this.”

  The door slammed shut, and the locking bolt turned in place.

  Molly peered into the window grill and said loudly, “A chance in hell,” and slammed it shut.

  “Psychotic maniac. And she wonders why they locked her up.” She made sure the door was sealed and began walking away. “Some people need a good morality spring shoved up their ass.”

  “Etiquette,” Ferra called out, following her.

  “Oh it’s wound fine. I just dislike that thing immensely. She gives all mechanical beings a bad name.”

  Ferra looked back at the door and wondered what exactly Olimpia had done.

  “JUST AS I suspected,” Silica said as a violet beam shone on Adamas’s surface. “A crack.”

  “A what?” Adamas asked, his voice carrying across the entire compound.

  “A crack, and yelling won’t make it better,” the doctor replied, reorienting her light.

  “How did this happen?” Ruber asked from the doorway.

  “It’s rare,” Silica explained as she circled her king. “But the cases I have heard of usually involve heat. Great heat. Like the heat made from an efreet.”

  “That thing did no damage to me,” Adamas assured her.

  “That might be, but it did put an undue amount of stress on your body, and, along with your recent exertions, the heat might have made something that was negligible something deadly.”

  “Deadly?” Ruber asked, floating into the room.

  “The crack is there; that cannot be changed. Now all we can do is manage the situation.”

  “Manage how?” Adamas asked.

  “No exertion, no magic, and certainly no combat. As the energies of your soul move through the lattices of your body, they get lost in that crack and skip for a moment. Most of the time the skip will show as simple memory loss, but far worse things can happen. If a skip were to occur when you were casting a spell or caught in another being’s spell, the magic could lose focus and slash randomly at everything, including you, sire.” As though anticipating Ruber’s question, Silica added, “There’s no way to predict when something like this might happen. And there’s no way to predict what effect casting even simple spells might have on you, my liege.”

  “I’ve never heard of this before,” Ruber admitted as Silica turned her probing beam off. “Is this common among our people?”

  “No! And it isn’t going to become common now,” Adamas announced, floating away from them. “This information is not to leave this room. Period. I will not have this kingdom thrown into a panic because of some crackpot’s ramblings.”

  “Excuse me,” Silica said, her voice dripping with venom. “I am the foremost expert on our kind, and I can assure you that I am not a rambling crackpot. You have a hairline crack in your body, and it is only going to get worse. You can ignore my diagnosis all you want; it will not make you better.”

  Before Adamas could respond, Ruber turned to her and said, “Thank you, Silica. You’re dismissed.”

  The amethyst looked as though she was ready to continue the fight but instead gave a small hummpphh and floated off. As soon as they were alone, Ruber turned to his father.

  “You can’t be seriously thinking of ignoring her advice.”

  “You can’t be seriously thinking of telling me what to do.”

  “You are no longer fit to be in combat,” Ruber said after long seconds of silence. “Stay here. I will lead the troops.”

  “You are not in any position to give me orders, boy.” Adamas moved closer to Ruber threateningly.

  “Father,” Ruber said calmly. “Don’t put me in a position to do so. You will not like the outcome.”

  Adamas said nothing as his son left the room.

  Five seconds later Adamas had forgotten the conversation and began to gather his troops for the final assault on Arcadia.

  HAWK AND I appeared in the middle of a large field.

  Not everything in Olim’s realm is ice. There are small pockets of normal weather lying at the farthest reaches of the globe. Think of the Arctic except here it is sunny and warm. I had come here shortly after the first battle with Oberon, while Hawk slept. Moving anywhere in Olim’s world was no more than taking a few steps, as far as my power is concerned. The first thing I experimented with was teleporting. I saw most of Niflgard in that night and stumbled across this small, peaceful place. As inhospitable as images of the Antarctic showed, this was just as inviting. It had lush, green grass, a couple of ancient trees, and… wait a minute. You aren’t picturing that lame field in Twilight, are you? ’Cause this field is way better.

  Why? Because, that’s why.

  “Are we on the same world?” Hawk asked, staring around.

  I eased up on my thoughts, and the information slid into his mind.

  All I felt from him was more hurt.

  “Why would you take off without me?” he asked in a small voice.

  “You were tired, wounded,” I said, trying not to sigh. “You needed rest, and I wanted to test my powers out. Why do you have to make a thing out of it?”

  “Because the Kane I knew wouldn’t have left me. He would have wanted to share it with me, but you, you don’t even care. This is what I am talking about. You are changing and not for the better.”

  “Why, because I’m not some weak, scared idiot wandering through your world unable to protect himself?”

  He got right in my face. “Because you’re acting the same way I was when I arrived in your world.” That left me speechless. “What did you call me? A douchebag? Well, your actions, your behavior makes you a douchesack, a douchevat of immense proportions.”

  “Douchevat?” I echoed, confused.

  “A large vat of douche,” he clarified.

  “Ah,” I said, not wanting to ruin his insult by explaining what a douche—anything was. “Well, I’ve changed.”

  “I understand you’ve changed, but that is a physical response to the seed. You are allowing these powers to change you in places they shouldn’t. Your love, your devotion to what is right is why we’re still alive. I’m not asking you to answer; just listen. And you’re throwing that all away. For what? The ability to make a chair? Would the person I am talking to right now stop me from killing Spike? Would he even care?”

  I really didn’t have an answer to any of those questions. Strike that. I did have the answers, but they scared the crap out of me because they made me sound nothing like the person I had always been. Unaware of what I was thinking, how I was crumbling at the edges, Hawk added, “I’m not jealous, just in case you think I am. Kane, I wouldn’t want the power you possess for all the brewed liquid in the Eastern Kingdom. I’m afraid I’m losing the other part of my soul, the only part I care about.”

  Word by word he broke me down. I could feel the arrogance, the denial of what I was doing melt away, leaving the scared high school kid who just wanted to know who the hot guy who’d just showed up in school was.

  “I’m sorry.” I gulped, taking a deep breath.

  His eyes went wide. “I can hear your thoughts.”

  Nodding, I walked to him. “I turned it off. I turned the power off. It’s there; it’ll never be gone. I don’t want it on all the time.”

  He put his arms around me, and I felt so tired it was insane. My body was sore, my mind was spinning, and I was cold. I almost collapsed into him and we fell back into the grass
. The last words I heard were him saying, “Sleep, I’ll protect you.”

  And for the first time since I got the power, I dreamed.

  ONCE THERE was a petty little man who wanted to be king.

  Born to a peasant family, he was a short, unattractive man who was going to end up being a normal man in a normal world. One of millions who had lived and died in the cycle of life, he would not be remembered nor admired. This fate was too much to bear for the man. He set out to change his future at any cost.

  Working as a soldier in a nobleman’s army, he learned to kill with ease, almost with relish, some said. The little man began mastering the craft of murder and warfare one death at a time. He advanced quickly, becoming an aide to one of the generals. During the skirmish, the little man realized how he could become king. In the middle of a battle, he threw the general into the fray, causing him to be killed in a most horrific way. Then he told the troops their leader had fallen, seized control of the moment, and rallied them forward.

  And so the aide became an officer.

  His prowess in fighting was proven true time and time again until he rose through the officer ranks as one of the most brutal campaigners the nobleman possessed. The man claimed victory after victory, and the reports of unnecessary violence and sadism were ignored amid the war’s mounting success.

  The man became the general and believed he had become someone of power.

  Until he realized he still answered to the nobleman.

  Not pleased, the general sought out a way to become more than he was. He could discover no means to elevate himself past his rank into the true ruling class. As long as the nobleman’s lands were protected, there was no way the general would be more, so in the middle of the night, he defected to the other side and gave them the information they would need to slip past his former men’s defenses.

  The next battle was bloody, and the nobleman’s troops were cut down by the thousands.

  Within a week the nobleman’s army was on the run; within a month it was destroyed. The turncoat general led the troops into the fallen castle to force a surrender from his former lord. There, the general killed the nobleman and his family, leaving no rightful heir to the throne. The other side took control of the lands and placed the general in charge as a governor responsible to them and enforcer of their will.