The Arcane Engineer

Chapter 1: Two Teeth on a String

“It happened after sunset but before the sky was completely dark. I had stayed out on the boat late that night because I was catching on every cast. Fish know when something big is going to happen – a big storm, what-have-you – and they start to eat. Saving up for a rough time I think. Anyway, I docked my boat and looked toward the city, and that weird tower flickered red like a glowfish in mating season. Flickered, then lit up. You know the rest…”

-A quote from a fisherman in Tuor, as documented in Raskha’s journal

16 Years ago, Two days after the blackout

The messenger extended the baby out in front of him and nodded, signaling Oren to take the child from his arms.

Oren held the messenger’s gaze, allowing his eyes to show the fear and uncertainty that he felt. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I can’t raise this child. I know nothing of infants.”

Oren heard a sound behind him and swung his torch, peering into the alley behind him. A rat scurried across the dirt, and Oren felt his heart thump in his chest.

Two days ago, Oren would not have needed a torch. The alley would have been well lit, even in the dead of night as it was, from the bluish street lamps in the adjacent plaza – lights that had illuminated the city of Tuor for a thousand years. But tonight was different. The city was dark, dangerous. Tonight a tension hung in the air like the entire city expected disaster.

“Oren, you must be the child’s caretaker. You’re the only one left.”

He was right, of course. Every other member of the Order was dead.

Oren dropped the torch onto the ground beside him and extended his arms.

The messenger handed him the child, its quiet form wrapped in a white blanket.

“Why?” Oren asked, his eyes meeting the messenger’s. “Why is this child so important?”

The messenger stepped closer to Oren and put his hands on the baby, tilting him upward toward Oren, then reached a hand into the bundle of cloth. He pulled back the blankets that were covering the child’s back, then signaled for Oren to look.

Oren peeked down the child’s back, expecting to see nothing in the near blackness of the alley, yet a soft glow caught his eye. Vertically, along the child’s spine, Oren saw three distinct symbols – none of which he recognized – starting between the child’s shoulders and moving downward towards the middle of the back. Each looked like it had been recently tattooed onto the child, it’s dark black ink pink and irritated. Most startling, each rune glowed a faint blue light.

Oren’s face darted to that of the messengers. “Why? How?”

The messenger shook his head, indicating that he would say nothing.

Fine, Oren thought. He looked into the baby’s sleeping face then back to the man, his eyes narrowing. “Were you responsible for the blackout? Did our Order have anything to do with the blackout?”

The messenger said nothing, his face a mask of stone.

When the city went dark, it wasn’t just city lights that had quit working. The automated food factory had stopped producing, spaceships fell from the sky, crashing into the city below; all forms of communication on- and off planet had ceased to function; simple electronics had stopped charging; water no longer ran through the faucets.

“If it was you who caused it,” Oren said. “You should reverse it immediately. Trade will stop, people won’t be able to enter or leave the planet, families will be broken – mothers and fathers separated from children – the free-flow of information will end, starvation, rioting in the streets … panic.”

The man said nothing.

Oren pulled his hood over his head. He wasn’t going to learn anything from this man.

Oren heard a rustle behind him in the alley. He turned, but saw only trash flying in the breeze, blowing up and down between the two buildings.

“I can’t raise this boy,” Oren said. “I have responsibilities… I am the trade commissioner.”

The messenger shook his head. “What use is there for a trade commissioner when there is no trade? No, you will disappear with the boy. Change your identity. Find a new life. Keep him safe,” his tone hung heavy with finality.

Oren looked at the baby. His entire life would change because of this child and this blackout. Oren felt his jaw tighten.

“There is more,” the messenger said.

“More?”

The messenger reached within his cloak and pulled out a leather bound book and held it in the air for Oren to take. Its edges were in mint condition as if the book had only been handled with perfect care. A symbol was gilded in the center of the cover in what looked like silver. It looked like two sharp teeth hanging from a string.

His eyes grew wide. “Planets,” Oren cursed. “Why entrust this with me?”

“The boy will need it, Oren.”

Oren heard another disturbance behind him.

He turned to look, searching they alleyway in the near-darkness, his eyes straining for a hint of movement. His heart raced in his chest as he searched. Nothing.

He sighed, relieved, his heart still racing, and held the child closer to his body. Then a THUMP sounded where the messenger had been standing, and Oren nearly screamed in fright.

He turned. The messenger lay face down on the ground, a small pool of liquid pooling by his face. Blood. A cloaked figure crouched over him, inspecting a necklace that was still attached the messenger’s neck which appeared to have a metallic key hanging from it.

The figure ripped the necklace off the messenger and pocketed the key.

Oren knew this cloaked figure from somewhere – had seen his shape before. He held the baby tight and began to back away into the alley behind him, keeping his eyes on the hooded figure.

The murderer rose, and torchlight revealed their face.

Oren’s eyes widened in recognition. “It was you. You killed the others, you-”

The figure rose and began to pursue him.

Oren pulled back his torch and flung it at the murderer, a throw focused with every ounce of frantic survival that Oren could gather.

It flew end-over-end straight at the person’s face.

Oren turned and ran down the alley. He heard a scream behind him, but he didn’t stop to look. He cut down a street then turned left, his heard hammering in his chest. He ducked behind a garbage can that overflowed with refuse and sat down, trying to calm his own breathing.

Within the blankets, the child stirred.

Through his fright, Oren managed a smile. “Hi, Little One,” he whispered. “If you keep quiet, I promise to find you a wet nurse in the morning.”

The child make a cooing sound, then reached up and grabbed Oren’s eyebrow.

Oren frowned. “I think I’ll call you Raskha. Ras-kha. In Ancient Tivolian it meant ‘River of Change.’ Can you say it? No? I guess we’ll work on that.”

The sound of footsteps passing by the entrance to the alley made Oren freeze. He put a single finger to his lips, looking at the child.

As the sound of boots running on cobblestones became quieter and then silent, Oren breathed a sigh of relief. He stood and walked the opposite direction.

Below, you'll find a pdf of the first few chapters of the book and a map of where all the action takes place.