Grabbing the Brass Ring

    While Sean began searching through the foreman’s desk, Flick moved to a small, covered plinth. The stand was just in front of a large picture window looking out over the manufactory floor. She pulled at the cover with no success before drawing her sword. Sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth, she began trying to wedge the weapon beneath the edge of the lid.

    The blade slipped in Flick’s grip, her hands weak and slick from the blood seeping through her bandages. The screech of metal on metal rang out over the sound of flying paper as the sword carved a shallow furrow across the cover’s polished bronze. She started to try again.

    Behind her, Sean ripped one drawer out of the desk after another. The top of the foreman’s desk was already swept clear, nick-knacks and notes scattered across the floor in the search for his control amulet. The drawers were proving no better, full of old parchment, ink pens, and diagrams, but no amulet.

    He heard a metallic ping and saw the lid fly through the air as it whined past his ear. Flick let out a whoop.

    “I got it lad! The control rune is open, now we just need the trigger. Have ya found the poor bastard’s bauble yet?”

    “No, I need help looking.” He dropped another drawer on the floor in frustration and reached for the next one down.

    Flick moved over to the bookshelves lining the back wall and started to run her hands along the higher shelves. Her probing swept off a line of dust that fell into her face and made her sneeze, but no amulet.

    “Nothing over here either.” She said as she moved to some cabinets next to a small cot.

    “We’ve got to be almost out of time.” Sean fretted. “Do we call it? Try to make it back to the lift?”

    “I think we both know we’re not making it back before the big blow, at least not on these legs.” Flick answered, picking her way through the pockets of folded formal wear. “Naught to do now but make a run at it and hope for the best.”

    Sean let out a rattled sigh and laid the last drawer on top of the desk. “I’d like to argue, but I can’t. We’re going to have to go to Plan B. I’ll yell down to Mordren from the hall, if we aren’t worried about our escape then we should still have some time for me to move the core into the box.”

    As if summoned, Mordren’s voice rang out from the mouth of a small hose dangling down from above the desk.

    “Can you hear me? Have you made it to the foreman’s office?”

    Sean grabbed the tube, pulling it close to his face. “We’re up here, but there’s no sign of the control amulet. I don’t think the foreman was up here when the first pulse went out.”

    “He wasn’t.” There was a finality in Mordren’s voice that made Sean’s skin prickle.

    “…how do you know that?”

    “Did you see the silver stud in the wall as you came in? On the edge of the explosion there?”

    “I did. I don’t know what that has to do with where the foreman is though.” Sean responded, feeling a growing irritation at the time they’d wasted searching the office.

    “That was the foreman. Or parts of him, to be precise. The silver stud you saw was the control amulet.”

    “And it was already damaged.” Sean finished, putting the pieces together. “What have you been doing down there then?”

    “Completing the necessary preparations for what comes next.”

    Sean went to the window, Flick close behind. The tube slid in a track along the ceiling, moving with him as he limped along.

    The glass here was in much better shape, not having been in close proximity to one of the blast victims. It was still pocked here and there by debris that had flown up from below, but it provided a clear view of the workshop floor and the faulty core at its center.

    The stone looked a lot like the photograph, a bowling ball sized rock ringed in hoops of brass, floating about a foot off of the table below it. What the photo had failed to replicate was the motion of the rings. They were spinning at speed, rotating around one another in a way that reminded Sean of an old timey gyroscope.

    While the apparatus was clearly the source of the red glow pervading the workshop, the stone itself was a bright white that only dimmed to crimson around the edges. He couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light or not, but the rings appeared to be slowing slightly with each slow pulse.

    Sean forced himself to look away from the hypnotizing sight. “So what comes next, Mordren? How do we help?”

    “Are you able to close the door to the office?” The retainer asked, entering view from beneath the overhang created by the room in question. He held his end of the tube in one hand and was dragging a small hand trolley with the other. On the flat of the trolley sat a stout container.

    “No, our entry was a bit too forceful for that.”

    “Unfortunate. Then I would ask that you stay as far away from the opening as possible. I am going to transfer the core into the containment vessel and to do that I must grab one of the rings.”

    The two of them watched as Mordren shifted the speaking tube, pinching it between his cheek and his shoulder. He began to pull on a pair of thick gloves that ran all the way up his biceps, the mittens a match for the apron he was already wearing.

    “I am uncertain as to whether doing so will be dangerous to you both, but that office should be the most heavily warded room in the workshop.”

    “What about you?” Sean asked, almost shouting through the pipe. “If it’s dangerous to anyone, it should be me. I’m the one who can heal himself, I’m the one who agreed to this stupid task of Corvane’s!”

    “And I am the one under whose watch this was allowed to happen in the first place. What kind of attendant would I be if I allowed my master to place himself in peril of my making?” Mordren’s voice was calm as he pulled on goggled mask. “Culpability aside, I believe I am also the only one of our party who has the strength to lift the device.”

    Flick leaned in to speak through the tube. “If you die, big man, I’m going to be right cross with you. I need someone else who can carry the lad when my back gets sore.”

    “I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you like that, Miss Flick.” The wry note in his voice matched the woman’s forced levity as he opened the containment chest. “Now please move away from the doorway, sire, everything will be fine in just a moment.”

    Sean started to protest again, but he felt Flick’s hand on his arm. “No, lad, let him do this. He’s right, and even if he weren’t you’re too important to risk.”

    That almost didn’t stop him. He wanted to talk this out and see if there was a better option. He knew the three of them could come up with a solution if they took the time to work through the issue.

    The growing numbness on his chest reminded him – the time he wanted was time they didn’t have.

    “Thank you. Again. This is the second time you’ll have saved my bacon today.”

    “Doing so has been my pleasure, sire. Now, I’ll be done in just a moment.”

    Sean let the tube drop, huddling into the corner of the room with Flick. They both watched through the marred glass as Mordren held out both big mitts toward the rings whirling around the core.

    He was hesitant at first. He flinched back once, then twice, as his fingers approached the hoops.

    A third time, then a fourth, he aborted his attempt to grab the outermost ring at the last moment.

    On the fifth, Sean saw the tip of one of the gloves spiral off into the shadows before its owner drew it back.

    The sixth attempt, Mordren thrust his hands forward.

    The largest ring caught in both the elf’s palms. A cry, agonized and defiant, echoed up the speaking tube as it cut into the thick leather and the flesh beneath.

    He maintained his grip, arms straining as he struggled to move the weight of the core. The interior rings began to slow, and the stone began to pulse faster.

    The tingling started to spread out from Sean’s pendant, moving along the nerves of his body. The light in the workshop grew more intense with each pulse, its illumination creeping further up the hall and through the doorway.

    With a final burst of effort, Mordren swung the stone over and above the open box. He slammed the core into the coffer’s interior.

    The rings around the stone stopped.

    The red light flashed white.

    The box slammed shut.