Taken (23 page)

“You might be surprised,” I said mildly.

“Bullshit. You get invitations to parties, you get guys like Talisid showing up to offer you jobs. You’re part of the club; you don’t know how hard it is for us.”

I started to answer, then paused.
So you know it was Talisid who gave me the job? Interesting.
“So why do you think I took the job?”

“You want the apprentices for yourselves, right? You don’t care what happens to them. You only help them if they’re yours.”

“You and Anne aren’t mine,” I said.

“So?”

“If I only care about apprentices who are mine, what am I doing here?”

“How should I know?”

“I’m just trying to make you see the logic here,” I said. “By your reasoning, if I treat you cruelly like Sagash, then that means I’m self-serving and don’t care about you. But if I’m nice and try to help you, then that means I must have some evil hidden purpose which
also
means I’m self-serving and don’t care about you. Is that about right?”

Variam just glowered. “Whatever.”

“They’re going,” I said, looking up.

Hobson had left the table and was hurrying away. I watched him curiously. Up until I’d arrived at the services I’d been more than half-expecting a trap, if for no other reason than that I remembered very clearly what had happened the
last
time Anne had been driven somewhere alone in that Bentley. But Hobson’s behaviour didn’t fit with that. Acting scared and nervous, okay—but he’d asked Anne to come to a public place, somewhere that would be crowded even at this late hour. That was the kind of thing you’d do if
you
were worried about a trap.

But if Hobson wasn’t involved himself, that meant . . .

Anne had risen and was just leaving via the services’ front doors. “Come on,” I said to Variam, and walked quickly after her.

I was halfway there when I felt something shift in the futures ahead. I took one glance at them and broke into a run. The automatic doors slid open in front of me as I ran out into the night.

Anne was halfway across the car park, a slim shadow against the dark lines of cars, just about to turn down one of the rows. “Anne!” I shouted from behind her.

Anne stopped, turned. I kept running towards her. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was looking at me in surprise. “Alex?”

“Behind you!” I shouted.

Anne turned back just as the figure flicked into view behind her. Her eyes went wide and she jumped out of reach as the shape reached out, grasping.

A second later I slammed into it. The darkness hid the creature’s features; it had the silhouette of a human but was heavier. We both went down and hit the tarmac and I rolled away fast, staying out of reach.

A second figure stepped out of the darkness right next to Anne, reaching for her neck. I’d seen it coming and aimed a kick from the ground that took out its knee. The second one hit the ground next to the first and I scrambled to my feet, backing away with Anne. “Variam!” I shouted. “They’re constructs, destroy them!”

Both constructs were rising to their feet and in the futures ahead of us I could see the paths they would take, solid lines of light changing to match our actions but without choice or initiative of their own. One was still locked onto Anne; the other was heading for me. But it took them a few seconds to reach us and Variam got there first.

Mages of Variam’s type are called fire mages, but that’s not really what they do. Their real power is over heat: generating it, controlling it, moving it. It’s true that most fire mages
do
use fire in their spells, but that’s as much psychological as anything; fire is what they think of, so that’s what they create. Variam’s approach was a little different. Instead of creating bolts of fire or some kind of flamethrower, he just poured a ton of heat into the area right between the two constructs.

Fire magic’s not subtle and it’s not great at defence, but for sheer destructive power there’s not much that can beat it. There was a hissing sound and a
thump
of superheated air, a backwash of heat making me cover my eyes. When I opened them again the constructs were gone. A five-foot circle of tarmac where they’d been standing was steaming, and the corners of two car fenders that had been in the blast were glowing a faint yellow and starting to droop.

“Where’d they go?” Variam said in surprise.

“I don’t know.” I looked around. I could see figures in the darkness of the car park but they were too far away, and as I concentrated I saw that they had the branching futures of humans. “I—Anne, move!”

Anne started and tried to jump away, but this time she wasn’t quick enough. One of the constructs seized her from behind, and a second later the other did the same to me.

Constructs move, but they aren’t alive—they’re dead things animated by magic, created to fulfil a certain purpose. All constructs are built with a guidance program, and once a construct’s been given a command it’ll keep going until the task’s completed. They’re strong—stronger than any human—but that’s not what makes them so dangerous. A construct can’t feel pain or fear or boredom. They don’t get hurt, they don’t get tired, and most of all they
don’t stop
. If you get away from one, it’ll just keep coming. The only way to stop a construct is to completely destroy it, either by breaking the spell that animates it or by doing such massive damage to its body that it can’t physically hold together anymore.

But for all their power, constructs have limits. They can’t draw conclusions, they can’t take initiative, and they can’t use tactics or prediction or deception. You can’t program a construct to outsmart an opponent; you can only make it stronger or tougher or faster.

The construct that had grabbed me from behind was trying to break my neck, and if I’d given it even the smallest chance it would have succeeded. But it wasn’t the first time I’d had a construct try to kill me and I’ve learnt from painful experience what works and doesn’t. As the construct reached for my neck I twisted to one side, pulling it off balance and levering its hand away. Someone who knew how to fight would have recognised the move and countered it, but the construct didn’t understand the concept of leverage and just kept trying to pull me in and crush me. I went with the movement and turned it into a throw, slamming the construct to the tarmac. The twisting motion pulled the thing’s grip loose and I jumped back again out of range.

I felt a surge of magic and looked back at Variam and Anne. The other construct was gone and Variam was standing against Anne with his sword out, staring into the darkness. “Variam!” I snapped.

Variam looked at me, confused. “I don’t get it. I hit him but—”

The second construct pulled itself up and went for us again. Variam narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, orange-red light flickering about his upraised hand. A pulse of heat exploded with a hissing thump from the centre of the construct’s chest, hot enough to ignite the air in a flash.

An instant before the spell hit, the construct vanished and we were alone in the darkness. “What the
hell
?” Variam said. “I hit him!”

Anne was looking around, and as she did her eyes widened. “Vari, Alex! It’s over—!”

I threw one of my condensers to shatter against the tarmac and grabbed Variam and Anne. As the cloud of fog rushed out around us I dragged both of them to one side.

An instant later the two constructs reappeared in the fog cloud. I couldn’t see them but with my divination I knew where they were. Their futures were static lines of light—without any sign of where we were they were just going to stand there until—

“Let go!” Variam said angrily.

“Shh!”

The lines of light changed direction as both constructs moved, converging on the sound. Their heavy footfalls were audible and Variam tensed and shut up as I pulled him to one side. Anne stayed quiet, trusting me to lead her. The constructs reached the point where the noise had come from, only five feet away—and stopped.

I kept leading Variam and Anne away and this time Variam thankfully kept his mouth shut. The constructs didn’t move; without sensory input their simple programming couldn’t predict our movements. We came out of the fog cloud into the night, and now that Anne and Variam could see me I put a finger to my lips, ushering them towards the car.

“What’s—?” Variam said once we were fifty feet away.

“Gate magic,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Short-range teleport.” Looking back I could see the patch of mist, weirdly out of place in the car park. The constructs were still standing motionless inside it—then as I watched they vanished. “Crap.” I broke into a run. “Come on!”

We piled into the car. I started the engine and the gearshift dial rose up with a whirr. “Where are they?” Variam asked Anne.

“I don’t know! They’re not alive, I can’t—”

One of the constructs blinked into view just in front of the car. I’d had a second’s warning and as it appeared I stomped on the accelerator. With a roar the Jaguar leapt forward, ramming the construct with a hollow
thump
and sending it flying. I braked instantly, throwing Variam and Anne into the back of the seats, and pulled out into the car park. The second construct appeared an instant later, grabbing for the door, but I swung the car away and it caught only air. A green
EXIT
sign flashed up in the headlights and I turned towards it, accelerating and putting a row of cars between us and the constructs.

The exit road was dark and led around the side of the services, past the petrol station and back towards the M4. Anne reached to touch my shoulder from the backseat and a soft green glow sprang up as I felt the energy of a spell flow through me. The adrenaline racing through my body levelled off, and my fatigue vanished as my reflexes sharpened. Suddenly I could see the road more clearly and correcting the car seemed easier. “Thanks.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket one-handed and handed it over my shoulder to her. “Anne, find Sonder and call him. Variam, keep watch out the back. We haven’t lost those things.”

“They’ve got a car?” Variam asked. He was peering out the back window.

“They don’t need one—”

Variam said something in an angry voice. I didn’t know the language, but the meaning came across loud and clear and I glanced up at the mirror to see that two figures had appeared in the shadows behind, running after us. As I watched they vanished and reappeared closer, still running. “Hang on,” I said, and put my foot down. The Jaguar’s engine roared eagerly and carried us out onto the M4.

The motorway was flat and slightly curved, hills and trees visible to either side in the darkness. Lights shone down from above, casting everything in orange-yellow except for the pinpoint reflections of the cat’s-eyes marking the lanes. It was late but the M4 is the major artery linking England and Wales and all three lanes were dotted with cars. I pulled from the left lane into the centre and then into the right. A few seconds later I saw the constructs burst out onto the motorway behind us, running along the hard shoulder before teleporting a few hundred feet forward, still running.

“Hello?” Anne said from behind me. “Sonder? Alex, I’ve got him!”

“Hold it here!” I swerved between the cars. The Jaguar was doing more than eighty miles per hour but in the mirror I could see that the constructs were still closing on us. They’d sprint for a couple of seconds, then blink forward, hit the ground running, and keep going. For all our speed, they were catching up fast.

Anne scrambled over the gearshift into the passenger seat and held the phone to my ear. “Sonder,” I said, keeping one eye on the side mirror. “We’re being chased by two teleporting constructs trying to kill us. Need some suggestions.”

“Teleporting—Wait, you mean—?”

“Yes.”

“Are they—?”

“Just vanishing and reappearing.”

“Um.” I could imagine Sonder pushing his glasses up. “You know, I think—”

I leapfrogged an Escort that was blocking the fast lane, pulled the Jaguar around a station wagon ahead of us, and slid back in again, ignoring the angry blare of horns. “Fast would be good.”

“Screw this,” Variam said. “Open the roof!”

I hit a button on the dashboard and the sunroof whirred back, filling the car with a rush of cold air. Variam pulled himself up, standing on the backseat, and turned towards where the constructs were running. Fire magic surged and I felt the pulse of a heat burst behind and to my left.

“Um,” Sonder said over the phone. “Okay. Well, there was a fashion back in the early twentieth century for making constructs with an imbued spell. The idea was they’d be able to use their one spell in the same sort of way as an adept, but it eventually fell out of favour because—”

“
Sonder.
How do we kill them?”

Again I felt the pulse of Variam’s heat spells and again I heard him swear. I risked a quick glance away from the road to the left but I couldn’t see the constructs. We’d entered a band of heavier traffic that was forcing me to keep my speed down. “Well, theoretically—” Sonder began.

The two constructs blinked in on top of us, one after another. With my second’s warning I was able to swerve away from the first. It appeared to our left at road level and grabbed for the car but missed.

The second appeared an instant later while I was still recovering from the swerve. It landed on the Jaguar’s hood with a
thump
, blocking my view, and turned to face us.

Anne drew in her breath in a gasp. For the first time I got a clear look at the construct; it had the form of an adult man in cast-off clothing with a blank face and dead eyes. Ignoring Variam, it locked its eyes on Anne and raised a fist to punch through the windscreen.

I stomped on the brakes and the Jaguar slowed in a sudden screech of tyres. The construct clutched at the smooth hood, but there was nothing to grab and it went flying head over heels. It slammed into the motorway ahead of us, rolling over and over. From behind I heard another screech of brakes and I hit the accelerator again. The construct finished rolling, looked up to see the Jaguar about to run it down . . . and vanished in a blink as we shot through the space he’d been in.