Arcanum Tales Chapter page 6 of 6

As in situations similar to this one, things began to happen very quickly.

Perriman spoke, disappearing, and the bandit swore, swinging the end of his weapon back and forth, searching for him.

The young mage was moving behind the horse, in order to better position himself for a quick dispatch of the criminal.

The source of the strange noise came into view, and all turned to see its approach.

It was a beast, but like none Perriman had ever seen. It traveled atop the iron rails that he had seen before, with great wheels for feet that screeched and groaned upon the metal surface. The beast itself was stout and squat, with innards of bolts and pistons and pulleys, and a thick grill of teeth protruding out from beneath its one, brightly glowing eye. A single horn on its head poured forth black and fetid breath, and behind it followed a segmented tail of large wooden crates, mounted on wheels as well, which continued out of sight behind Vermillion Station.

The very presence of the thing seemed to affect the spell he had cast. The Rune, so bright in his head, became muddled and unclear. The bandit turned, seeing Perriman a flickering field of color appearing behind him. The staff swung round once again. The mage sprung left, clearing his head, and called to mind the most powerful spell he knew.

In the space between the mage and the bandit there appeared a Greater Demon, one of the most fearsome creatures from the dark reaches of the Void. It raised its horned head to the sky, and let out a terrible howl.

And promptly disappeared.

The bandit, upon seeing the creature, used his weapon, which issued a dull boom and exploded in his face.

Behind Perriman, who, strangely, found himself seated on the ground, there was another noise, a loud crack from the direction of the metal beast. People began to scream. The Station Master came running in their direction, hands held high.

"Look out! The brakes! The brakes are out! Get clear of the train!"

And the train, as it seemed to be called, flew off the end of the metal rails and past the platform, its iron wheels screaming and spewing great fountains of spark and smoke, tearing up large chunks of the courtyard floor in its wake. Behind it trailed three or four of the wheeled crates, the last of them tipped over on its side. The train itself stopped not five metres from Perriman, the light in its eye fading and finally going out.

Willoughsby appeared, breathless and angry. "Damn you, Smythe! I told you not to use magick here. Now look what you've…oh, no…"

Perriman, feeling rather light-headed, stood up and looked to see what the gnome was so concerned about. Willoughsby seemed to be focused on Perriman's left shoulder, and so he looked down to see the cause of his distress.

A dark stain was spreading quickly on his greatcoat, and when Perriman tried to lift his arm to find the source of the problem, he found he was unable. He pulled his shirt back with his right arm, and found a large, roundish wound, bleeding profusely. His vision was blurring, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. The night was unnaturally dark, and he had the distinct feeling that he was falling.

"How utterly uncivilized," he thought.