The Dragons of Dorcastle Read Free Page A

Alain repeated the lessons to himself, trying to block out the thunder of the bandits’ weapons, taking long, calming breaths while he attempted to deny any feelings of fear.
    But along with the fear he could not totally eliminate, one thought kept intruding. What other weapons were the bandits using? The thunderous weapons which had wiped out the guards were not crossbows. They were far deadlier.
    He reached one of the last wagons, a large one with barred windows whose door had been kept locked since the caravan had left on its journey. Alain had not mingled with the other members of the caravan, of course, since all were commons, but he had overheard some speculation about the occupant of this wagon possibly being a spoiled Imperial lady who had remained unseen throughout the journey. If so, and if the lady still survived, he might still be able to do something for someone.
    Alain came around the side and saw that the wagon door sagged open. How could the bandits have reached it before he did? Forgetting caution and weariness for a moment, the Mage rushed forward to look inside the wagon.
    A figure rose up before him, holding something in one hand that glinted dully in the dust filtered sunlight. Alain checked his own lifted hand and the two stared at each other for a long moment.
A Mechanic?
    There could be no doubt. Even in the scorching heat of the waste the woman wore the dark jacket which marked the members of the Mechanics Guild as surely as Alain’s robes marked his own. Unlike the garments of the Mage Guild, though, which bore symbols and ornaments to mark their ranks and special skills in a form only other Mages could read, the jackets of the Mechanics were aggressively plain, just leather stained dark. Those unadorned jackets sent a message to everyone that Mechanics thought themselves so important that they did not need to impress with their clothing or show any visible sign of rank. Her trousers were also plain, though made of tough and high quality material, and her boots dark leather like her jacket.
    It took Alain a moment to overcome his shock, then look past the raven black hair cut short so it fell just to her shoulders and the frightened, angry expression, to see that the Mechanic was about his own age.. Her youth startled him, but then it surely would not take the Mechanics that long to teach even elaborate tricks to their members.
    “What are you doing here, Mage?” the Mechanic demanded, pointing the object in her hand at his face. That thing she carried had no blade, nor any visible bolt like a crossbow, instead looking like an oddly shaped piece of metal with a hole in the end facing Alain. But the way the Mechanic held it made clear it was a weapon of some kind. “I’ve seen you occasionally during the journey, so I know you’re not among the attackers. Otherwise you’d already be dead!”
    He could hear the fear in her voice, barely concealed beneath the bravado of her words.
    “I am charged with protecting this caravan!” Alain yelled back over the crash of the bandit weapons.
    “They depended on a Mage for protection?” she shouted. “What was the caravan master thinking? Who’s attacking us?”
    Under normal conditions Alain would have turned his back on her, adopting a Mage’s lack of interest in anyone and anything in this world. Under normal conditions he would not speak with a Mechanic at all. But he was badly enough rattled that Alain answered instead. “Bandits, the guard commander said. He said there would be only a few, and poorly armed.”
    “Bandits!” The Mechanic shook her head, eyes wild. “Impossible. There are dozens of rifles firing on us. No bandit gang could afford those.”
    “Rifles?” Mechanic weapons?
    “Yes.” The Mechanic held up the thing in her hand. “Like this pistol, but bigger and longer ranged. Where are the caravan guards?”
    “Either dead or fled. I believe most have died. I found no one alive until you.” He had spent years being told