Tinkermage (Book 2) (34 page)

Epilogue

She watched through tired eyes as the last of the wounded were loaded on the last land crawler. Uncle Britt raised his hand and gave her the thumbs up. She laughed. What was left of the gnomish force, barely twenty in number, worked with heavy hearts, exhausted from fighting and losing so many companions, but she swelled with satisfaction, knowing she’d been able to save some of them. Uncle Britt, Flay, and others she didn’t know quite so well, near strangers at first, were bonded to her now, after her intimate look inside them mending bones and flesh. Hard to tell whether their parting glances were of appreciation or awkward respect. She’d even removed the arrows from Tomkin’s shoulder, and true to his stubborn nature, the gnome had simply nodded his thanks and went back to work.

The opportunity to help her kin with her healing touch had allayed her gnawing guilt, if but a little. The deaths of over twenty-five gnomes still rested squarely on her shoulders. She couldn’t have possibly guessed this would happen, but she should have had enough sense to consider the possible dangers of traveling through the Utene Mountains all the way to the tip of Sullenor. She’d been so excited about having an adventure that she never once considered the lives of her traveling companions. She was tempted to lay some blame on Termund. He knew the dangers, knew more about orcs than she, yet he’d failed to impress this upon her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
How could I ever resent him?
No, she would hold the responsibility of those lost close to her heart and avenge them when she could. And she’d never take things for granted again. If the Prophetess was right, her future held much bigger, and likely more dangerous, tangles.

Another worry: the Prophetess. Now locked away in a dark spot in Niksabella’s mind, for now. When would she manifest again? Could Niksabella retain control over her mind and body when the time came? Or, better yet, could the fiery-haired lady be extricated somehow? And what would that mean for Niksabella’s power? Would she lose everything?

Too many questions.

“Are you okay?” Fritzy put her arm around Niksabella and gave her a brief hug. She laid her head on Fritzy’s shoulder, too weak to resist her friend’s pull. She didn’t care. She let herself slump into the heavy, fur-lined coat worn by Fritzy. Uncle Britt had given it to Nika, but the coat swallowed her up. It was perfect on her friend.

“Don’t let go of me, Fritzy. I may just fall.”

“I’d never.”

Niksabella smiled and buried her nose in the coat, catching a whiff of Uncle Britt’s pipe smoke. “Never is a long time.”

She heard Jontuk’s heavy footsteps and looked up to see the stonekin approach.

“All you need to know is I’ve got you,” Fritzy said.

Maybe I can rest soon.

She spied Termund leap down from one of the idling niners and stride toward them. Flay and Jess fell in behind him. As they approached, Niksabella raised her head and caught the strange, haunted look in his eyes. Termund looked down at the ground and stopped just outside of her reach.

“What is it?”

“I’m not going with you.”

A cold chill went up her spine. “What do you mean?”

From behind them Jontuk spoke. “I can only take two. Just barely. And—”

“So you’re going with the others.” She looked at Termund when she said it. She knew it then. Or maybe she’d known it the whole time.
We must part. After having gone through so much.

“I saw you and Jontuk together. You wiped out a squad of orcs.” He gave them both a look of admiration. “I no longer fear for your life as long as you and the stonekin are together.”

“I’m staying with you, Nika.” Fritzy squeezed her, and Niksabella welcomed the shoulder-crushing pressure.

Termund smiled with tired resignation. “Of course. Although I’d certainly love having you along with us, unless you’re still set on going south.”

Fritzy’s head shook, her ink-colored hair still speckled with orc blood. “I’m with Nika. Always.”

Termund’s face became a blur as tears filled Niksabella’s eyes. The eager sounds of hissing steam and clacking pistons quickened her anxiety. Oil and grease-burn wafted through the air. She wanted to fight this decision, wanted to protest and fuss and demand Termund come with them. After all, she was the one with the power now. And she was pretty sure Jontuk would do as she asked. Or perhaps they could shadow Termund back to Thrasperville, protect them until they arrived safely.

Termund saw the cogs spinning in Niksabella’s head, and he took a step forward. “It has to be this way. Whatever you’re thinking, just forget it. Get to that Grinding Tower and find out if the recursive mirror can be of any use to us in the coming…” he glanced at Jontuk, “…
war
.”

As if to reinforce the notion, and probably to hurry them along, Jontuk leaned in closer. “When I first came to this world following a thread of hope, guided by the strange Prophetess, I was sorely disappointed to see how small you all were. But since then, I’ve come to realize the bravery and ingenuity of your kind. I’m proud to call you an ally. When next we meet, Termund Grundzest, I hope it is on the battleield against our enemy.” Jontuk held out his mighty paw.

Termund stuck his chest out and approached the giant. He placed his tiny hand on the stone fingers. “And you with both arms.” That got a chuckle from Jess and Flay.

Niksabella stepped out of Fritzy’s embrace and approached her Thrasperville kin. Jess came to meet her, and the two hugged like sisters.

“I always thought you were brave,” Jess whispered.

“Around you I had little choice.”

Flay waited in the wings, and Niksabella let go of Jess to hug the rambunctious warrior, careful to avoid his healing shoulder. He looked much better already, the axe head removed and her magick having bound his wound and hopefully purged any budding infection.

“We’ll make up a song about you on the way to Thrasperville. They’ll be singing it in the pubs within a week of our return.”

“I’d just be happy with your safe return. All of you.”

She let go of Flay and turned. Termund was right there, so close she could feel the tension
thrumming
off him. Her heart sunk like a stone. Dread filled her soul.

“Termund, I—”

“Shh. It doesn’t…”

Before he could finish, before either one of them could say another word, she balled up her fist and gave him a
thunk
on the chest, then grabbed his shirt and pulled herself up, up, on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. She wrapped her arms around him as far as she could, which wasn’t very far with his thick vest in the way. She wanted to crush him, wanted to pick him up and carry him away. But she was as helpless as a gnomeling clinging to the trunk of an oak. He enveloped her in his grasp and she let the tears go.

On a whim, she slid one of her rings from her index finger. A cheap, faux silver thing, really. She seldom even thought about it. But suddenly it was her most valuable possession. She handed it over, and he took it willingly, placing it on his little finger.

He kissed her once and then once more, held her face in his hands for another moment, kissed her a third time, and then stepped away.

Niksabella stood between Fritzy and Jontuk and watched as Termund, Jess, and Flay climbed aboard the idling niner. Termund worked the levers and foot pedals and set it in motion. They clanked and growled and steamed their way back the way they’d come, carrying the wounded and weary survivors. And her love.

“We better go,” Fritzy said. “Tomkin set charges on that wrecked niner. Keep the orcs from finding anything useful on it.”

The diminutive gnomestresses faced Jontuk. The giant stood like a small mountain next to them.

Niksabella gulped down her tears and put her anguish aside. A small part of her hoped there was something she could do to make up for what she’d caused.

Jontuk bent low and put a finger on her shoulder, careful not to knock her down. “What I’m about to do is take a form that makes me one with stone and earth, able to flow through it as easily as a fish through water. You will travel inside of me.”

“That doesn’t sound… weird at all.” Fritzy narrowed her eyes.

“It is safe. Besides, Termund told me if anything happened to either of you, he’d have me melted down and turned into a granite bar top, whatever that is.”

“All right then. We’re ready. Right, Nika?”

Niksabella took Fritzy’s hand and nodded absently, yet her eyes remained fixed on the craggy upsweep of rock and forest where Termund and her friends had disappeared. “Do what you’re going to do.”

Heat struck her in the side of the face. The ground shifted. She was vaguely aware of Jontuk sinking, the stone around them turning wobbly. It didn’t frighten her. No magick could. Not now. She had found something within herself, some
power
, and the strength to wield it. But where was all that when Termund Grundzest was going the other way?

A tear warmed against her cheek.

The ground came up and swallowed her.

Acknowledgements

If you read the acknowledgements at the end of
Rough Magick
, then you know how I feel about you all. Nothing has changed! I couldn’t have done any of this without my friends, family, and the unbelievable support of Joe and Tim and the folks at
Ragnarok Publications
.

And the fact that you, O Reader, have taken valuable time out of your life to read something I wrote is incredibly humbling. It’s hard to express just how thankful I am to have so many dedicated readers.

Shout out again to my street team: Larry Heydorn, Daniel Chambliss, Amanda Shore, Melanie Meadors, Rob Hayes, Moses Siregar (you rule, bro!), Missy Gunnels Katano, and Becca Calloway Butcher. A very fun group of fellow authors and reviewers whose feedback has been seriously helpful. I’m proud to be a part of such a wonderful community of people who share a love for epic fantasy, and I hope you will stay with me for
Cogweaver
!

Remember, you can go to
www.kennysoward.com
to catch the latest “Kennah” news, blogs, and vlogs. Please
sign up for my mailing list
and I promise to send fairly regular updates. Visit my Facebook Author page,
https://www.facebook.com/officialkennysoward
, where I post about things that influence and inspire me, as well as how I’m coming along with my current works.

Hell, stop by just to chat.

About the Author

Kenny Soward grew up in a small Kentucky suburb listening to hard rock and playing outdoors. In those quiet ‘70s streets, he jumped bikes, played Nerf football, and acquired many a childhood scar. His love for books flourished early, a habit passed down by his uncles, and he spent many high school days in detention for reading fantasy novels during class.

At the University of Kentucky, Kenny took creative writing classes under Gurny Norman, former Kentucky Poet Laureate and author of
Divine Rights Trip
(1971), and all of this eventually prepared him to take the plunge to write speculative fiction. The GnomeSaga consists of
Rough Magick
,
Tinkermage
, and
Cogweaver
, and he has also co-written a pair of “Dead West” supernatural horror novels with Tim Marquitz and J.M. Martin, which are collected in the
Dead West Omnibus
, available now.

By day, Kenny works as a Unix professional, and at night he writes and sips bourbon. Presently, he lives in Independence, Kentucky, with three cats and a gal who thinks she’s a cat.

Books by Kenny Soward

GnomeSaga Trilogy

Rough Magick
|
Tinkermage
| Cogweaver (Feb 2015)

Dead West Series

Those Poor, Poor Bastards | The Ten Thousand Things

Dead West Omnibus
(collects both novels above)

Anthologies

Manifesto: UF
|
Neverland’s Library

Blackguards: Tales of Assassins, Mercenaries, and Rogues (Jan 2015)

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