Despite having set aside a whole night for rest, in the hopes of recovering from two all-nighters in a row, Amelia was barely able to sleep, because she knew Lieutenant Colonel Denholm was coming and that woman terrified her more than any other witch in Dugaria. According to rumor, she’d once lifted an entire mountain with magic. That was surely an exaggeration, but if even a fraction of that was true, she was terrifying beyond measure. Even worse, the black-uniformed generals were coming, including some very senior witches, one of which Iris had met.

  In the end, Amelia rose before dawn, to oversee preparations for lunch, even though it didn’t factor into her private plans. The dining room was decorated with two shades of green bunting matching the colors of Dugaria and the kitchen staff were already setting out food for the buffet that was supposed to follow the demonstration, either to placate the generals, or as a celebration, depending on what happened.

  They made Amelia a quick egg sandwich and she was on her way, out to the workshop, where her apprentices had been hard at work, all night long. The wagon’s side plates had been bolted on, which hung low enough to mostly protect the tires.

  Dawkin was busy polishing the brushed, steel armor with a rag, a nice touch that gave it a finished look that would hopefully make it glare in the faces of onlookers.

  “How are things coming along?” Amelia asked.

  Dawkin looked up and smiled, “Just finished, ma'am.”

  Glancing at the other apprentices, who’d taken a quiet moment for a break, Amelia looked at her assistant with a womanly eye again and stepped closer, feeling that same, strange need to get closer, demonstrating to her that it hadn’t been a fluke.

  Dawkin smiled and as Amelia got closer, he once again closed his eyes and puckered his lips. Amelia did the same and leaned toward him.

  “Good morning, ma'am!” Tillote finally noticed Amelia’s presence and called out, once more spoiling the moment.

  Amelia and Dawkin both glared at her with frustration, but the girl seemed oblivious to their expressions. One of the older apprentices, who was able to read the room better, flicked Tillote in the ear, causing her to glare with anger.

  Amelia poked her head back outside for a moment, confirming they were alone, then spoke, “Everyone, gather round!”

  The apprentices assembled near her, that they might hear what she had to say.

  “Thank you for all your hard work.” Amelia spoke softly, as a precaution, “Have all of you made the preparations I asked of you?”

  Dawkin reported, “I’ve secured the plans for everything in the carriage you gave me. Just as soon as the demonstration begins, I’ll sneak off and get going.”

  Amelia had long-ago converted her Father’s old house-wagon into a horseless carriage and given it to Dawkin, because he’d been in need of both a home and transportation at the time.

  “Good. What about the rest of you?”

  Tillote answered, “I’ll be driving the old portable workshop, with a couple families and all the steam engines from the workshop crammed into it, which have already been loaded.”

  “And I’ll be driving the tractor, hauling a big wagon for the rest and my sister is hanging onto the backup copies of the plans for me.” Another apprentice offered, “Everyone is ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  “Okay.” Amelia nodded and decided aloud, “Dawkin is expected at the demonstration, but the rest of you should head out now. With any luck, you can outrun the rumor mill and leave the country without trouble.”

  Tillote and the apprentices headed off, leaving Dawkin and Amelia alone.

  She stepped over to Dawkin and leaned toward him again, as they both closed their eyes and puckered their lips.

  Marta called out from the door as she entered, “I think we should get going! Colonel Denholm just sent a messenger, demanding a status update!” Both Amelia and Dawkin sighed with irritation at the interruption and glared at Marta, who smiled at the two of them and asked, “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Yes!” Amelia and Dawkin spoke at the same time.

  “Sorry, Amelia,” Marta’s knowing grin got wider, “but the messenger has demanded to see you, specifically.”

  Amelia glanced at Dawkin, then nodded, “Fine, I’m coming.” Looking at him again, she instructed, “Roll the war wagon outside and hitch it to the horse, so we can get it to Fort Stand. I think the test will be happening early.”

  “Got it.” Dawkin rushed off, to obey.

  An hour later, Amelia and her sisters were on the road and staring at the backside of a horse with Dawkin mounted on it. The sisters sat inside the war wagon, Iris in the driver’s seat, Amelia to one side and Marta in the back. All three of them were in uniform. The journey to Fort Stand took an hour by foot, but the horse was faring no better, despite the fact it was a rather large and strong one that was quite used to heavy loads.

  “What do you think our chances are?” Amelia asked, “I’m told some very senior witches will be present, including a few generals, Lieutenant Colonel Denholm and a Captain Krauss.”

  Iris groaned at that last name and looked on Amelia with terror, ” ‘Killer’ Krauss will be there?”

  “You know her?” Marta asked.

  “I worked with that psychotic-” Iris referred to Krauss as a female dog, “and she’s no joke!” Her breathing became quite nervous and rapid.

  “What’s her specialty?” Amelia asked, “What will we be up against?”

  “She’s a blood witch and possibly a necromancer, though she also uses fire, because she likes a little variety. Regardless, however, she enjoys making people explode.”

  “Are you serious?” Marta asked, fear also gripping her voice.

  Witches with a talent for manipulating blood rarely became healers, but more often than not, they discovered their affinity by accident, because blood magic responded to emotion, especially anger. Most of the time, their powers manifested at an early age, when the child lost their temper. The result was normally extremely messy to everyone around them and after that, they tended to follow one of two patterns, with rare exception. As a result of accidentally killing people they loved and accepting the idea it was their fault, their powers usually turned inward, resulting in a self-destructive explosion. From time to time, however, they completely snapped and instead became mass-murderers, reveling in the destruction their powers could inflict. Unhinged blood witches were the number one reason witches were feared, because their rampages were nigh-impossible to stop, even with other witches standing in their way.

  Iris nodded, “I’m afraid so. I gather Denholm keeps her on a short leash when she’s in Rimestar.”

  “What do we do about her?” Amelia asked.

  Marta shrugged, “Don’t look at me, I’ll have my hands full with Denholm if the plan goes south!”

  “I guess I’ll be her opponent.” Iris sighed and trembled with fear, “I should hopefully be fast enough to keep her from casting.”

  Amelia nodded, “I’ll drive, then.”

  “Fine.” Iris agreed and the two of them squeezed past each other, to switch seats.

  “Any thoughts on Denholm?” Marta asked.

  After a moment’s consideration, Amelia suggested, “If it comes to it, hit her with your best shot. I doubt you’ll connect, but that should be enough of a distraction for us to break away.”

  “Okay.”

  “Remind me why we didn’t just launch in the night?” Iris requested, “This is starting to sound like a bad plan.”

  Amelia sighed, “Mother would never want us to just run away and hide, since we’ve been a part of this mess for five years, probably making things worse.” The guilty expressions of Marta and Iris said Amelia had hit the nail on the head, so she went on, “After talking the other day, we know Skobia didn’t start the war, just like we’ve suspected from the start. They’d love to surrender, but Dugaria won’t let them, so I want to give Skobia the power to defend themselves. That’s why I sent my apprentices off early, to maximize their chance of escaping to Skobia unnoticed, though their round-about journey is likely to take weeks. It will be riskier for Dawkin, since he’s coming to the demonstration with us, but he’s got the fastest horseless carriage, which he parked near the fort, just yesterday.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “We’ll have to buy him a little time, but that’s easy: we just perform the tests we’ve been asked to perform, then if all goes well, they’ll be so happy, they won’t notice us wandering off.”

  “Okay.” Iris nodded.

  The wagon stopped and Dawkin leaped down from the horse, to check in with a gate guard. After a moment, he got back on the horse and the wagon was hauled around the side of the fort, where some folding chairs had been set out for a number of military personnel in both the green uniforms of those ranked Colonel and below, as well as the black uniforms of more senior personnel. Colonel Denholm and an elderly witch General in black sat on the front row, beside another witch officer in green, who Iris looked at with barely-concealed terror, likely indicating she was Captain “Killer” Krauss. Rather ominously, Denholm and Krauss were both in trousers, rather than skirts, indicating they were prepared for trouble.

  The field featured a series of wood cutouts of men painted to look like Skobian soldiers in armor, plus a small brick wall.

  Dawkin dismounted and used a wrench to detach the bit required only for pulling the wagon with a horse. While he worked, Amelia swung her door open, then stepped over to the spectators and saluted as Denholm rose.

  The Lieutenant Colonel returned the salute and gave Amelia an icy glare as she spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear, “This is your last chance, Private Blackwell. You’ve been given rather more latitude than I’m comfortable with, due to the potential of the weapon you’ve promised His Highness, but the King’s patience is growing thin.” She looked over Amelia’s shoulder, to the wagon, “Are you quite certain you need your sisters for this demonstration? I’m almost certain they’re not actually required.”

  “You weren’t here for the previous two tests!” Amelia protested, “Iris is always calm under pressure, quick enough to pull me out if I freeze, and Marta is powerful enough to control the blast if the engine becomes unstable! I need them both, or I could die!”

  “Very well,” Denholm nodded, apparently accepting the lies, “but one more catastrophic failure and your new home will feature chains and bars, at the very deepest portion of the King’s most vile dungeon.”

  “I’ve done my best to please the King,” Amelia bowed her head, “but compact steam engines can be quite volatile and difficult to stabilize. After recent research, however, I think I know what’s been going wrong and this one will do…better…” Amelia trailed off in the face of the intense glare the taller woman gave her.

  “So you say,” Denholm leaned until she towered over Amelia, forcing the small woman to look straight up as Denholm hissed so quietly no one but them might hear the rest of her words, “but I don’t believe you. You think you’re always the smartest woman in the room, you smug, little-” Denholm sharply cursed in Amelia’s face, spittle landing on her cheeks, “but I’m on to you and the King agrees you’ve rope enough to hang yourself with. With that in mind, if you’d like to make any final adjustments to assure this prototype works, now’s the time. However, if this test fails, I’m not going to let you live.” Denholm’s eyes glowed, bathing Amelia’s face in red light, before she went on, “I’ll get an earful from His Majesty over it, but ultimately, I can argue I acted in his best interests, because you’re definitely not.”

  Amelia gulped and quietly nodded as she slowly backed away, though their eyes remained locked. Before Amelia finally dared to look away, Denholm gave her a sick smile that was full of menace and anticipation very like that of a hunter, just before a good kill.

  Dawkin stepped over and whispered, “You’re all set. Anything you need before I head off?”

  Amelia shaded a little red, because there were so many spectators, but she knew it was her last chance with Dawkin and after that confrontation with Denholm, she was feeling more emotional than average. She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around the young man and pressed her lips to his.

  It was a moment that was both short and sweet, but which also seemed to stretch into a subjective eternity, because it was charged with magic beyond that of anything Amelia had ever experienced, making actual magic feel like a cheap stage magician’s trick by comparison, while the kiss she shared with Dawkin felt like the genuine article.

  When the kiss ended, Dawkin gave Amelia a huge smile and planted a kiss of his own on her lips, which went on far longer than the first, leaving Amelia feeling absolutely giddy with delight, as if her blood had lost all its weight and become lighter than air, threatening to lift her into the sky. In short, it was even more magical than the first.

  In the wagon, Amelia’s sisters smiled and Marta said, “Ah, she finally figured it out!”

  “It’s a real shame it took her so long.” Iris commented with a tear rolling down her cheek, “With all the plans she’s put in motion, that her man’s in charge of, there’s no way he can come with us.”

  Marta nodded, produced a handkerchief from a pocket and blew her nose, before agreeing, “A real shame she didn’t think about that. He could have been our brother-in-law.”

  She blew her nose a second time.

  Meanwhile, Captain Denholm shook her head and rolled her eyes as she took her seat.

  Krauss smiled, “They make a cute couple. If it comes to it, I’ll make sure they barbecue together.”

  The old general that had been training Iris commented, “Oh, the two of you need to lighten up a bit! Would it kill you to have a little romance in your souls?”

  Denholm and Krauss met each other’s gaze, shuddered, looked into the General’s eyes and spoke at the same time, “Yes!”

  The old witch sighed, “Let the young folks have their happy moment, since it may very well be their last.”

  “Fine.” Denholm grumbled.

  Dawkin ended the kiss and Amelia felt like putty in his clearly skillful hands.

  “I love you.” He whispered.

  Amelia nodded and muttered back, “I love you, too.”

  Dawkin walked back to the horse and mounted it, walking it away, dragging the equipment that had been used to link it to the front axle of the war wagon.

  When he got around the corner of the building, he urged the beast into a gallop and Amelia turned away. Feeling a sense of horror sinking into her frame every bit as intense as the affection she’d finally become aware of, she turned back to the wagon and climbed into the driver’s seat, hauling the door shut, which latched itself.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks for a time as the truth of how foolish she’d been settled in. She was in love and had only just now realized it, after committing the man she loved to treasonous acts that could possibly get him killed, if Dugaria figured out his role in matters and caught up to him in time. Even worse, she was about to launch herself into orbit, with no intention of ever coming back.

  Marta set a hand on Amelia’s shoulder from behind and offered, “I’m sorry. I should have left you alone, then you’d still be oblivious.”

  “No, don’t be sorry.” Amelia shook her head and wiped away her tears, “I would have been hurting, either way, but at least now I know why.”

  “We could take him with us, couldn’t we?” Iris suggested, “The other apprentices have backups of the plans, don’t they?”

  Amelia shook her head, “The others don’t know half what he does. Without him, it would take years to build another wagon, but Skobia doesn’t have that kind of time. With him, it will be months. He’s the only one that can change the entire course of this war.”

  All three of them sighed with frustration and Amelia set her mind on the future. She started the engine and waited for it to build enough steam pressure to function, producing a rising rumble, though it was quieter than previous engines she’d built, because she’d mounted it on rubber gaskets to dampen out most of the vibrations.

  When the time came, she drove the wagon in a circle, followed by a figure eight, then lined it up on one of the wooden cut-outs of a man, firing a shot through it from the driver’s gonne! The lead ball hit with such force that the cut-out cracked horizontally, due to the grain of the wood, and the top half fell off!

  “Iris, fire some rounds at the others. Marta, sight on that brick wall and get ready to fire.” Amelia requested.

  Iris nodded, aimed and missed her first target, but was able to use the plume of dust from the impact with the ground to adjust for the second shot, producing results similar to Amelia. Then she sighted on the next, repeating her success. The third dropped just as easily as the second and she didn’t stop until ever last cut-out was down.

  Behind the two of them, Marta worked the handles on the periscope that rotated the big gonne.

  “Good shooting.” Amelia was surprised, because Iris had never fired a spring-gonne before.

  Iris shrugged, “I have a good eye for distance. It comes with all the scrying.”

  “You ready, Marta?” Amelia asked.

  “One moment.” Marta answered and made some small adjustments to the elevation of the big gonne as she looked through the periscope.

  When she was ready, she laid hold of the handle at the bottom of the periscope, which was similar to the one Iris used, complete with a crossbow-like trigger, though the hand grip was more vertical. She pulled the trigger and the big spring produced a loud slap as the plunger attached to it launched the lead ball! The recoil was so bad, the entire wagon shook!

  When the dust cleared, the brick wall was nothing but rubble.

  “Now for the victory lap.” Iris reminded Amelia, “Nice and slow, to make everyone happy.”

  “I know.” Amelia nodded.

  Aside from Denholm and Krauss, everyone was clapping. Denholm narrowed her eyes, because she seriously doubted Private Blackwell’s past jargon-heavy explanations for failure, especially since the sisters had initially argued so much about their vows of non-violence. In short, there was no way Blackwell was planning to deliver the war wagon, something His Majesty had agreed about.

  Instead of coming to a stop, which was part of the plan for success, the war wagon went around the corner of the fort’s outer wall and accelerated!

  Denholm barked to be heard over the applause, “We’re up, Krauss!”

  With a muttered syllable from Denholm in the ancient witch’s tongue, two broomsticks flew through the air of their own accord, stopping to hover beside the two military witches.

  They mounted them sidesaddle and Denholm shot into the air, quickly followed by Krauss, who handled her stick more clumsily. Denholm rode her broom without laying hands on it, which was a rather advanced technique, but with her mastery of telekinesis, it was easy. Krauss, on the other hand, wasn’t as familiar or as skilled at telekinesis, unless it involved blood. She was able to get it into the air, though she wobbled like a drunk, barely able to control her direction of flight, because she was more focused on keeping up with her more skilled superior.

  When they were high enough to see, Denholm shouted, “They’re stealing His Majesty’s property!”

  “I see it!” Krauss shouted back, “What’s the plan?”

  “Kill the traitors!” Denholm growled back!

  “My kind of plan!”

  Both witches angled their sticks for a downward dive!