Steamforged Sorcery - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

It took Angel several minutes to escape from beneath the creature. By the time he finally got free, the smell of burnt meat and hair had been thoroughly imprinted on him. He let out a heavy sigh and brushed his clothes off as best as he could.

“Fantastic,” Angel muttered. He examined his right arm, but it was undamaged. He let out a sigh of relief and knelt beside the orc’s corpse, examining it. A small grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.

The gears in his hand whirled again as his fingers melded together into a large blade. He drove it into the creature’s chest and dragged downwards. His nose twisted at the rancid smell rising up from the monster.

He carved deeper into the creature’s chest until a glint caught his eye. The blade transformed back into his hand and he reached within the orc’s chest, wrapping his fingers around a small orb. Angel pulled it free with a sharp tug, then held it up to the dim light coming up from the triggered trap lines on the floor to get a better look at it.

“Green,” Angel said, slightly disappointed. “Oh well. Better than nothing, I suppose.”

He tucked the orb into his pocket and adjusted his coat for the second time. He glanced over his shoulder at the board on his back, but it looked fine. Not much could break Old World metal, so he wasn’t particularly concerned.

Angel gave one final glance around the room before he walked out. He retraced his steps back through the catacomb, but he had no further problems. The further he got, the more rock and less magical or mechanical parts he saw. It took him nearly an hour to arrive at the exit – a large gaping cave entrance.

The sunlight brought a grimace to Angel’s face. He wasn’t even outside yet, but the temperature had risen several degrees beyond uncomfortable. He squinted as he walked out into the desert. It stretched out as far as the eye could see. The world looked hazy from the heat rising up from the orange sand.

Angel grabbed the metal board on his back. It detached with a hiss and he tossed it onto the ground in front of him. Pale gray lines rang along the side that had been pressed to his back. They centered around two circular patterns on either side of the board.

He stepped onto the metal. The lines lit up with a dim white light that was barely visible in the sunlight. The board rose up a foot into the air, kicking up the sand beneath it. Angel reached into a pocket on the inside of his cloak and pulled out a thick scarf. He wrapped it around his face and leaned forward.

The board floated forward responsively. The lines grew brighter and he shot forward, tearing through the desert like a bullet. The wind howled past Angel’s ears and he let out a gleeful laugh. He launched over a sloping dune and did a flip before touching back down.

Small specks of sand pattered against his face and body, but he didn’t mind. Hours felt like minutes as the desert blurred beneath him. The wind he kicked up was more than enough to fight back against the sweltering heat. In fact, Angel was starting to get cold.

The sun traced through the sky and dipped towards the horizon. Just as the light was starting to fade, the dark form of a city rose on the horizon. A permanent cloud of steam and smoke floated in the air above it. Angel slowed as he grew closer. Massive walls easily five stories high towered over him, all made of shimmering bronze.

Cannon barrels poked through holes in the wall and lined the battlements. At the front of the city were two massive doors that rose all the way up to the top of the walls. They were half open. In the sky far above the city, an enormous blimp made slow circles through the air as it prepared to land.

Angel hopped off his board as soon as he was within walking distance of the massive doors. A small, ever-present crowd had gathered just inside the city, leaving an opening in the center for vehicles to pass through. Vendors yelled and hawked their goods at anyone foolish enough to listen, and the smell of fried food drifted into his nostrils.

He hopped out of the way as a heavy metal box on treads shot past the crowd and rumbled by him, spraying sand everywhere as it sped into the desert. He rolled his eyes and slung the board over his shoulder.

Vendors called out, waving trinkets that Angel had no doubt would fall apart by the following morning. He ignored them, just like the rest of the city’s residents. The only people that actually spoke to the merchants at the gate were tourists.

Angel walked at a brisk pace down the main road. He entered the markets, which had been conveniently placed in the center of the city to ensure people had to pass through them at least once wherever they went.

Despite the late hour, the markets were bustling. Large tarps covered the hundreds of tiny shops from the searing desert sun, and most of them were still open. Many never closed. Bronze City never slept.

A dirty boy in one of the alleyways started towards Angel at a casual pace. Angel turned and looked him straight in the eye, shaking his head slightly.

The boy grimaced. Then he gave Angel a small nod and turned to return to his alley. Angel just shook his head. Some things never changed. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been in the boy’s place, but the winds of fate had delivered him. All the boy could hope was that he’d be shown a similar mercy.