Wizardborn (World's First Wizard Book 3) by Aaron Schneider (read me like a book txt) 📕

British in the forms of arms and materiel, so Roland could appropriate such a vehicle as a personal transport whenever he liked.

“Too easily disrupted, you see,” Roland continued as they turned down a street that put them near the edge of the Neva river. “Which it sounds like you proved when you broke up Stalin’s little soiree. No, we needed something that would have effects across battlefields and reach populations.”

A snarl came to Milo’s lips at the thought, and he was thankful that the noise of the engine hid his revulsion. He was going to have to work harder than he’d expected to stay safe until evening.

“So Zlydzen began experimenting with radio,” Roland explained. “Now, it wasn’t as easy as playing a magical song over the radio. No, Zlydzen made it clear that it wasn’t the music or even the actual sound as much as the psychic resonance that allowed the machine to manipulate the minds of others. So he needed a means to produce psychic resonance, one for the battlefield and the other for civilian targets much further out.”

Hearing the words “civilian targets” tested Milo’s stomach so much he turned to the armored window to hide his disgust.

The Neva River was a gray ribbon, still obstructed in spots where the wreckage of buildings and vehicles jutted into the river, creating snarled strands of refuse. Speckling the gray, turgid waters eddying around these spots were smaller collections of refuse. When he pressed against the slotted window of the armored vehicle, Milo could see that several of these collections included bobbing bodies.

“Were the bodies down there part of the experiments?” Milo asked, his mouth suddenly tasting like the ash which still sat in his pocket. “Or did you add them for decor?”

Roland spared a glance at the Neva and shook his head as though dismissing the sight before it could even register.

“Not directly,” he said, trying to sound as eager as before but failing. “The battlefield application is, as you might expect, messier. Zlydzen is still fine-tuning it, but there have been errors, and errors make bodies. Simple as that.”

Milo decided the window offered no relief from his growing nausea, so he stared at the floor. Roland thankfully lapsed into silence, leaving Milo in peace.

After a few minutes, there was a dull thump-thump as the road under them changed. Milo saw they were crossing the Neva, heading for an island cradled in the arms of the river. Looming from the center of the island was a strange cyclopean structure, its dimensions and proportions reminiscent of ancient temples in antique lands. From its roofs and spires, dozens or maybe hundreds of metallic antennae extended. As they rolled across the bridge, skirting the scorched remnants of barricades and overturned hulks, Milo saw they weren’t antennae but the metallic branches he had seen being forged in front of the palace.

His mouth went dry as they drew closer to the bristling monument. In Milo’s mind, it seemed like some shelled parasite with its head burrowed in the flesh of the earth until it rose, swollen to bursting. With a surge of righteous hate, Milo wanted the thing destroyed. He didn’t need the abomination explained, but Roland, his eyes shining with pride, seemed determined to share it.

“The Resonator is quite the sight, isn’t she?” He chuckled and glanced at Milo, who had barely enough time to contort his face enough to hide his true feelings. “We’ve only turned her on a few times, but you’ve already seen her handiwork.”

Milo stared blankly at him for a second and then remembered the barren streets in front of the train station and a dark hotel bar.

“Gzhatsk,” Milo muttered. His words were barely audible over the engine, but Roland nodded all the same.

“Yes, one of our first successes,” Roland said, beaming. “Nearly eight hundred kilometers away, and at a quarter of our signal's potency, we had the entire town under our sway in less than a week. At a little over half-power, we could target Berlin, and at full strength, Paris or even London is not out of reach.”

They’d left the bridge and begun to prowl around the open space, which must have been a park before it became the birthplace of a doomsday monstrosity. Up close, Milo could see that what had once looked like a single massive structure was more like a central infestation from which had sprung radiating protrusions of metallic corruption. The bulky core of the horrific edifice had been built with whatever was at hand, its exterior riveted together from scored and rusting hunks of scrap. The spired colonies radiating from the central pod were of fresher and more purposefully crafted materials.

Milo wasn’t sure he could speak without betraying his utter horror, but somehow he forced the words out of his mouth.

“Why would the Reich be helping you with all this?” Milo asked, tearing his eyes away from the Armageddon spectacle. “I mean, do they not understand, or do you have something over them that they’d channel these kinds of resources your way?”

Roland swung the car around for another pass by the Resonator, a toothy grin spreading across his face. Milo recognized the look from the night he’d shared the news of the great weapons heist that was going to set them free.

“A little bit of both and more besides,” Roland said and winked as he leaned into the accelerator. “They’ve fully bought into their own ‘superior’ nonsense. We have them convinced it only works on the brains of subhumans. The fact that we managed to covertly enslave some of their members and pump them for information has also ensured that they understand failure to cooperate could leave them exposed. They are convinced this is an attempt to restore the Russian Empire and will continue to assist if we guarantee to turn it upon their enemies on the Western Front.”

It seemed a fool's bargain, but Milo imagined the likes of the Reich were the kind of arrogant, vicious fools who would go along with it.