Jak Koke: Clockwork asylum

Maxwell returned the grin as though he understood Ryan's thoughts about the political correctness of his boss. "She also left me some instructions, though she said you would probably countermand them, saying that I should persist, just up to the point where you are about to beat me half to death, then allow you to do whatever you feel is best. If it's all right with you, we'll skip the verbal sparring and get right to the point where you do what you want. Agreed?"

Behind Ryan, Dhin's barking laughter carried in the sluggish air.

Ryan smiled again; he felt better than he had in days. "Agreed," he said. "What were your instructions?"

Maxwell gestured to the limo. "The cars each come with a rigger. Under no circumstances am I to allow your companion to drive the limos. Miss Brooks seems to believe that if you're left to your own devices, you'll get into mischief of some kind. And…" Maxwell looked from Ryan to Dhin, sizing the ork up in one casual sweep, "And she also seems to think that if your companion is allowed in command of the controls, the Draco Foundation will soon be minus a very expensive luxury auto."

Dhin snorted. "Like they couldn't afford it."

Ryan stepped up to Maxwell and put his massive arm around the thin man's shoulders, turning him in the direction of the limo. "I'll be sure and tell your boss that you did your best to dissuade me from deviating from her schedule, and that you even threw your body in front of the limo to prevent us from doing anything foolish. However, as Carla correctly anticipated, my companion will drive. I assume you can find your way in the other vehicle."

Maxwell nodded and opened the rear door of the lead Nightsky for Ryan.

Dhin had already stepped to the driver's door, opened it, and motioned for the waiting driver to exit, which the woman did without so much as a blink.

"Many thanks, Maxwell. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise, Mister Mercury. May your journey be swift and its rewards be great."

Ryan smiled and closed the door. Within seconds, the heavy limo was exiting the front gate and pulling out into the sparse traffic of the corporate cluster. Alone in the rich interior, nestled into the plush seat that seemed to mold to every contour of Ryan's body, his good feeling started to fade. His mind refused to shut down, refused to let him relax.

Everything had gone wrong with the recovery of the Dragon Heart, and for the first time since the death of his parents, Ryan had failed. It was not a feeling he was used to, one he did not want to get used to. His stomach was in knots, and dull pain wracked his gut.

Dunkelzahn's message came back to him. The message relayed to Ryan several days ago by a spirit that had somehow been bound even after the dragon's death.

"Your mission," the spirit had said, speaking in a voice like Dunkelzahn's, "is to take the Dragon Heart to the metaplanes and give it to the one whose song protects the spike created by the Great Ghost Dance. She is called Thayla. I will repeat this once, Ryanthusar, because it is so important. Retrieve the Dragon Heart and deliver it to Thayla-the bridge must not be finished.

"In order to complete your task, you must enlist the service of a powerful mage who knows the ritual that can carry you and the Dragon Heart into the metaplanes. This mage must also be absolutely committed to this endeavor. Of all my friends, only two fit these criteria…

"I have taught you of the cycles of magic, but no one has dared manipulate them as our enemies do now, bringing this age to the brink of destruction so early in the mana cycle. The discovery of the Locus by Darke may be the single most devastating event in all of history. If the metaplanar Chasm is breached before we are ready, we will all suffer. All beings will die.

"All beings."

"My fellow dragons are overconfident, thinking they can hide in their lairs as they have always done. But when the Enemy comes, the monsters will be able to use the technology of our own time to locate and breach our lairs. No sentient creature is safe this time. When the mana level gets high enough, the chasm will grow narrower and narrower until the Enemy can cross without any bridge. But there will be no hiding this time. Technology changes everything. No magic can protect against it.

"This time there will be no hiding. There will only be war. We must build up our defenses; we must gain the time we need to build up our technology so that we have the ability to fight the Enemy when it can cross. But to gain that time we must protect our natural defenses. They must not be allowed to fail, and the Dragon Heart will ensure that they don't. Thayla will know how to use it. Get it to her before it is too late."

The spirit had vanished then, its task completed. And Ryan had been stunned. How could he be entrusted with such a responsibility?

I don't want it.

Ryan took a deep breath and sank into the cushions. The mission was too much, too daunting a task, and one he had no idea how to even begin.

Ryan had always been a weapon, wielded with extreme precision by the great dragon Dunkelzahn.

Now Dunkelzahn was dead. Gone in a massive explosion. Vaporized.

And while Ryan's edge was still sharp enough to cut, there was no hand to guide him. No hand but his own.

Ever since his ordeal with Roxborough, Ryan had been thinking on his own more and more. Thinking about what he wanted from life. Thinking about the comforts of life that other people had. Comforts like a home, a loving and stable relationship.

Comforts that Ryan had never allowed himself.

Dhin's voice cut the air of the limo's cabin. "Were you expecting company, Bossman? Seems we've picked ourselves up a tail."

Ryan sat upright. He took a breath and said, "Thanks, Dhin. Keep them in sight."

He touched his wristphone, punching in the code for Carla Brooks. After a second, the tiny screen filled with the platinum white hair, black skin, and sharp elven features. Her smile was warm, even though her tone was dry. "Well, well, Quicksilver, I see you still like to do things your way. I just got off the line with Maxwell-"

"No time for chat, Black Angel. Did you anticipate my actions and assign covert escort?"

Carla's smile faded, and her eyes narrowed. "You know me better than that. Those are not the kind of games you and I play with each other. I take it by the look on your face that you've picked up some unwelcome company."

Ryan nodded.

Carla's face took on a look of concern. "You want me to send an intercept team?"

Ryan shook his head. "We'll take care of them. Dhin's going to feed you the vehicle specs and all the info he's got on it. Track it from your end. If I don't hear back from you in three minutes, we'll move on them."

"Got it, Quicksilver. Good hunting." Carla's face faded from the screen.

Ryan took a second to remove his suit jacket, roll up his shirt sleeves, and pull the matte-black Ingram Warrior machine pistol from its trim pouch at his waist. He checked the slide clip, thirty rounds ready, one in the chamber. Ryan slid the silencer from its holster and screwed it onto the Ingram's barrel. As a physical adept, he followed the Silent Way, moving with silence and stealth whenever possible.

Ryan set the silenced Ingram on the seat beside him, then reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat for his MGL mini-6 grenade pistol, again popping the clip and checking the load. Six high-explosive rounds. By feel, he pulled another grenade clip from the pocket. Six white phosphorous grenades.

He jammed the WP clip home, and stuffed the clip of explosive rounds into the pouch that had held the Ingram. Ryan still had his usual bandolier of narcotic throwing darts that he would use preferentially. But if things didn't go the way he expected them to, the white phosphorous would burn his pursuers out of their vehicle, and the Ingram would do the rest. He just hoped it didn't come to that.